“How did you hurt yourself so badly?” Yi Ling saw the bruises on Yan Huan’s shoulder and didn’t know what to do. How could it be so serious? “Do you want to go to the hospital?”
“It may be the constitution problem. Actually, it doesn’t even hurt much.” Yan Huan moved her arms, but it hurt so badly she couldn’t help but furrow her brows.
It’s really hurt. Luckily, I shoot the drama in ancient costumes. Otherwise, you’d be able to see it when I wear short sleeves.
She pretended it was nothing and continued to read the script and memorize her lines. She was in pain and on the verge of crying but held her tears back.
At night, she went into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes when Yi Ling fell asleep. Looking at her shoulder, she saw it was badly bruised.
She put on her clothes and came out of the bathroom, then picked up the script. She thought a lot about how to put on the play well.
The woman was dressed in black and had black hair down to her waist. A black Datura flower was painted on her forehead and she had coquettish makeup and red lips. At that moment, she gently stirred the pool barefoot.
At the same time, a man also appeared. When she turned around, he was awestruck by her beauty and his pupils went slack and he could not get himself away from her.
She exuded a seductive aura and could drive people to madness with it, but he knew that and was still willing to seek his own doom. Even if he should die beneath a peony flower, he would still be charming as a ghost.
The woman walked over barefoot and it seemed that the black Datura flowers were growing beside her feet. The man couldn’t move himself when she reached him, even when he realized she was not a fairy but a witch.
“Who are you?” the man asked, obviously obsessed with the woman, his eyes filled with her figure. They looked dull and glassy.
The women opened her lips and put her hand on the man’s neck.
“Demon Lord, Qing Yao…”
As soon as she stopped speaking, the man’s neck was twisted by a beautiful hand and, with a crack, he died on the spot, his eyes widened and his expression frozen.
The woman closed her eyes and took in his soul for self-cultivation. She stood up and laughed scornfully like the demons in hell. She was Demon Lord Qing Yao. She killed people without blinking an eye, she would kill anyone without bother. She had no humanity or feelings as she wasn’t a human originally.
“Cut!” Director Jin shouted, before asking Yan Huan to come over. Yan Huan relaxed a little and dared not wipe the sweat on her forehead away as she was afraid that it would smudge her make-up. It was already winter after a few months of shooting.
It was too cold in winter and it made her skin crawl. She shivered with cold, her hands and feet already having gone numb due to the thin clothes she had to wear. Her legs were bare and she even had to be barefoot in the recent scenes.
She came over when she finished shooting and Yi Ling quickly draped a coat around her shoulders.
Yan Huan wrapped herself with the coat tightly and blew out, her breath seen in the frigid air.
It was too cold.