Chapter Forty-Four: I Don’t Wear Makeup
Yuan Zhong kept her eyes on the makeup room door but didn’t go over; something was definitely happening inside. Lately, whenever anything went wrong, Wang Shanshan’s mood would sour, and when that happened, she would take it out on Yuan Zhong, shoving responsibilities onto her—just like earlier, when she’d been told to pick someone up. Who knew what was going on this time? Yuan Zhong had no intention of inviting trouble upon herself.
Chen Yue wanted to ask for an autograph ahead of time, so she poked her head into the makeup room. Soon enough, she slipped out, looking thoroughly defeated.
Hunching her shoulders, Chen Yue shuffled up to Yuan Zhong, stammering, “Shan-jie wants you inside.”
“What’s going on?” Yuan Zhong frowned.
“It’s the old man Qile Yu—he refuses to get his makeup done and is clashing with Shan-jie.” Chen Yue looked miserable. “I walked right into the crossfire and got a good scolding from Wang Shanshan.”
“You! I told you there’d be a signing session later; why are you so impatient?” Yuan Zhong scolded, frustrated. “What good ever comes from barging in?”
“So… what now? She wants you.”
Yuan Zhong gritted her teeth and braced herself. “I’m going to the restroom. Just say you didn’t see me.”
“No way!” Chen Yue grabbed her. “I’m scared. If she scolds me again, I’ll be terrified!”
This is what you call a teammate as useless as a pig!
“Yuan Zhong! Get over here,” Wang Shanshan called from the makeup room doorway.
Well, there’s no escaping this! A formidable opponent, indeed—also quite intimidating.
Yuan Zhong composed herself, walked up to Wang Shanshan, and feigned ignorance. “Master, what’s the matter?”
“Come inside!” Wang Shanshan’s tone was sharp.
Chen Yue gave Yuan Zhong an apologetic look, but there was nothing she could do.
Qile Yu sat with his legs crossed, glaring coldly at the makeup artist, as if ready to strike if anyone dared touch him.
“What kind of makeup artist did you hire?” Wang Shanshan started berating Yuan Zhong. “The technique is terrible, making the guest uncomfortable!”
How could makeup be uncomfortable? Yuan Zhong wondered.
“If the guest refuses makeup, what do you suggest we do?” Wang Shanshan stared at Yuan Zhong.
Shouldn’t you be asking the guest? Yuan Zhong thought, but didn’t dare say it aloud.
Qile Yu turned to look at Yuan Zhong; she looked back at him.
What an unlucky fellow!
What a troublesome guy!
Both muttered silently to themselves.
Yuan Zhong glanced at Wang Shanshan again—she truly didn’t know how to handle this situation.
Wang Shanshan merely glared, sending her meaningful looks, but Yuan Zhong wanted to say she really couldn’t decipher them!
The atmosphere turned awkward, and as Wang Shanshan’s expression grew darker, Yuan Zhong looked on the verge of tears.
Unable to bear it, Qile Yu spoke up. “I said, no makeup.”
“No makeup means you won’t look good on camera, which affects your image,” Wang Shanshan explained again.
“I’m not making a living off my looks!” Qile Yu insisted.
“Of course not, that’s not what I meant. But a good image adds points,” Wang Shanshan said. “Just a simple touch-up.”
“No need!” Qile Yu frowned. “Are we doing this show or not? If not, I’m leaving!”
Qile Yu stood up; Wang Shanshan nervously reached out to stop him, then pushed Yuan Zhong forward.
Without warning, Yuan Zhong found herself right in front of Qile Yu—a classic case of collateral damage.
“N-no makeup is fine, but at least let’s clean up a bit? You just walked over, and there’s sweat on your face,” Yuan Zhong improvised quickly.
“Is there?” Qile Yu hadn’t noticed and looked for a napkin.
“Let me help, I’ll wipe it for you, alright?” Yuan Zhong swiftly grabbed a box of cotton pads.
“That’s not a napkin,” Qile Yu eyed her warily, thinking, Little girl, I don’t want to make things hard for you; you’d best stay away. If I hadn’t pitied you, I wouldn’t have arrived on time earlier. Now I’m only making things difficult for Wang Shanshan. Why are you jumping in?
“These are cotton pads; they absorb sweat better and clean more thoroughly,” Yuan Zhong explained. “You can dampen them for facial cleansing, no makeup.” She thought, Please, old master, just play along, I really have no other option.
Qile Yu said nothing, nor did he refuse.
Yuan Zhong carefully pulled out a cotton pad, adding, “This is made from all-natural materials, no fluorescent agents, good for the skin.”
Qile Yu noticed Yuan Zhong’s hands—her skin was pale, fingers slender and long, nails short and neatly trimmed, with a soft hue. They looked clean, cute, and attractive.
In his writing, Qile Yu had described female characters’ hands—beauties’ hands ought to be elegant, slender, with nails like flower petals, sometimes painted in vivid hues.
He was a little dazed; he hadn’t expected hands like these—different, yet equally beautiful. Perhaps even more appealing.
Yuan Zhong observed him carefully, seeing his gaze fixed on the cotton pad in her hand, not showing any resistance. She ventured, “Would you like to sit down first?”
Qile Yu glanced at her, said nothing, but took a seat.
“Thank you,” Yuan Zhong silently thanked him again and again.
She carefully wiped his sweat, then took a bottle of toner, pouring a bit onto the cotton pad.
Qile Yu stared at Yuan Zhong; she hurried to explain, “This is just regular water, to cleanse the skin. You know, sweat makes things sticky.”
Seeing him nod, Yuan Zhong finally began.
After cleaning his face, Yuan Zhong checked; the makeup artist spoke up, “This will reflect light on camera—you need to mattify.”
“Shall I use powder?” Yuan Zhong asked, moving closer, thinking it was time for the makeup artist to step in.
“Use the cushion BB, mattifies instantly,” the makeup artist handed it directly to Yuan Zhong.
She glanced at the makeup artist, thinking, Me? Seriously?
The makeup artist stared at Yuan Zhong; Qile Yu stared at her; Wang Shanshan stared at her, too.
Yuan Zhong cried out inwardly, Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this?
Left with no choice, she took the cushion BB and stepped forward. “Please close your eyes.” She admired herself—her voice was calm and gentle, despite her inner turmoil.
Qile Yu obliged, and Yuan Zhong awkwardly applied the BB cream, guided by the makeup artist.
Once finished, the makeup artist commented, “His brows are thick, so that’s fine, but his lips are too pale…”
“I’m done!” Qile Yu frowned; he’d cooperated enough.
The makeup artist fell silent.
Yuan Zhong glanced at Wang Shanshan, her look saying: I really did my best.
Wang Shanshan turned away.
Yuan Zhong inspected Qile Yu’s face—it was indeed a bit pale. She thought, We’ve come this far, might as well finish the job. She tried to persuade him, “Your lips are a little chapped, maybe just a bit…”
“Stop fussing, a sip of water will do,” Qile Yu shot her a glare.
Qile Yu carried an aura that said strangers should keep their distance; his fierce expression made the makeup artist step back two paces, clearly startled.
Yuan Zhong considered, then looked at his reflection. “Actually, this works. You look a bit like Wen Liang from your book—a kind of sickly handsomeness, that character was quite interesting to me.”
Qile Yu looked at Yuan Zhong, surprised; that book had mostly male readers.
Yuan Zhong mentioned several scenes involving Wen Liang. “That character was so conflicted—wanted to be good, but always made the wrong choices.”
Wang Shanshan coughed nearby, urging them on.
Yuan Zhong brought up Wen Liang because she sensed the author didn’t like that character much; she hoped Qile Yu would dislike resembling him and agree to some lip color.
She was out of options—she’d tried her best.
Just as Yuan Zhong was about to give up, Qile Yu spoke. “Really? I look like him? Then forget it.”
That meant he was willing!
“Alright, I’ll put on some natural lip color for you, just a little to brighten up,” Yuan Zhong felt a bit excited—not just because Qile Yu agreed, but because she’d understood him as an author.
She showed him the color first; he accepted, so Yuan Zhong applied it with a small brush.
Quickly, she used the eyebrow brush to tidy his brows.
Before Qile Yu lost his patience, Yuan Zhong tossed aside the eyebrow pencil. “Done!”
The rest was up to Wang Shanshan.
She seemed satisfied enough and led Qile Yu out.
Yuan Zhong checked on the remaining tasks; the live interview wasn’t her responsibility. To avoid further trouble, she went backstage to prepare for the signing session, staying clear of Wang Shanshan and Qile Yu, not even telling Chen Yue.
Cong Wenbin arrived; Yuan Zhong went out, confirmed the parking spot, and took the car keys.
“I ran into the police,” Cong Wenbin said. “I don’t have a driver’s license.”
“What! How did you manage?” Yuan Zhong was startled—on the way, she’d asked him, and he’d said there was no problem.
“It’s fine, the police were dealing with an accident,” Cong Wenbin replied calmly.
“You can’t drive without a license! That’s wrong!” Yuan Zhong was angry. “I know you want to help, but safety isn’t a joke. If you don’t have a license, just tell me. I could’ve found another way.” She herself had a license; she could drive, and let Cong Wenbin take Qile Yu to the venue first.
Cong Wenbin looked confused, not understanding why Yuan Zhong was suddenly upset. He thought for a moment, then realized and explained, “I have a license, just didn’t bring it.”
That infuriating kid!
Yuan Zhong didn’t bother with him and headed to the signing venue.
Cong Wenbin followed, and for once, apologized, “Sorry, I should’ve said it clearly. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
Yuan Zhong glanced back at him, feeling her reaction might have been too strong—maybe she was just overwhelmed and stressed, but she shouldn’t have taken it out on him.
So she said, “I was a bit anxious, should’ve double-checked with you. You’re a careful person; you said you had a license before, so you must have one. That was my mistake.”
Cong Wenbin shook his head, then asked, “Is Wang Shanshan giving you a hard time again?” He’d noticed lately that Wang Shanshan was quite harsh with Yuan Zhong.
“It’s just how she is, nothing much. Let’s go, sort out the books for the event, arrange them nicely. Who knows how many will sell later,” Yuan Zhong said.
As it turned out, escaping the interview scene was a wise move. Qile Yu was thoroughly uncooperative with Wang Shanshan, and in front of so many people, she couldn’t lose her temper. The thirty-minute interview barely lasted half that, ending in social disaster—far more awkward than the makeup room.