After a week of waiting, Xiang Wan came to teach as usual. She missed half of a lesson from the foreign teacher and then went downstairs to buy groceries with Chao Xin.
The supermarket was now somewhat familiar to Xiang Wan, who walked directly to a shelf to select tomatoes.
As she picked up a bright red tomato, she thought of Peng Xiangzhi’s criticism: eating a few meals and then socializing with anyone, and it made some sense.
She really did love to eat.
But as the young miss from the Prime Minister’s family, it wouldn’t have been appropriate to show any gluttonous tendencies.
She rubbed her waist, which had grown a bit more round.
This wasn’t a good sign.
So she said to Chao Xin: “Ms. Chao, could we not have tomato meatballs today?”
“Hmm?” Chao Xin was holding a bunch of celery, “Why? You said they were delicious last week.”
“I want something lighter today.” Xiang Wan blinked.
Then she frowned and whispered, “But Paipai is growing.”
Chao Xin quickly understood, her indifferent almond eyes glanced at her, then at her waist: “Did you gain weight?”
The last two words seemed to be formed with her lips, but no sound came out.
Xiang Wan sighed, “In the past, I would only eat fruit in the evening. Now, with a meaty meal every week and eating late, I always feel that my chin is heavy when I wake up the next day.”
Chao Xin laughed, tilting her head to look at her chin mockingly: “Let me see.”
As if teasing a child.
Xiang Wan raised her neck: “Is it?” Did she have a double chin?
Chao Xin looked down, observing her profile, “Swallow.”
With a vague sound, Xiang Wan’s neck moved from top to bottom.
Chao Xin was initially just teasing her, but seeing her so obedient, Chao Xin was a bit taken aback. She didn’t know how to respond, so she straightened up with her high heels tiptoeing, tapping twice on the ground. Then she turned her head as she put her finger on a fresh cucumber, “It seems not.”
“Oh.” Xiang Wan felt relieved, her face softening, more tender than any vegetable. Then she brushed her hair back.
Opening a fresh-keeping bag while carefully selecting tomatoes, Xiang Wan said, “About the studio, I asked Su Chang for you. She said that if you want to set up a studio, the cost is not high. The main factors are the scale of the studio, the location and size of the office. If it’s a voice team, you generally need your own booth. Therefore, the number of recording studios and the equipment would take up most of the investment. You would have to find the talents yourself. If the budget is not very abundant, consider employing an actor who can also serve as a sound engineer, and the rest of the voice actors could be non-full time, signing only for particular projects. Screenwriters and post-production staff don’t need to be contracted, they can be hired on a project-by-project basis.”
After many years in the industry, Chao Xin had built a considerable network. She was likely already aware of these matters. However, if she decides to start building her own studio and streamline the process, it would indeed require quite a bit of effort.
“Su Chang said that running a studio is essentially like running a company, just like any other industry. The most important thing is the customer base. In the past, you were a freelancer, signing individual contracts for projects. But it’s different when a team undertakes a project. Previously, others would invite you, but in the future, it’s your team that has to compete for projects.”
“Therefore, it’s essential to maintain good relationships with broadcasting platforms, producers, investors, IP holders, and even top authors holding individual copyrights. Otherwise, people may not think of you.”
“Good IP and big projects are hard to come by. The pond is just such big and everyone wants a piece of the cake,” she continued as she placed tomatoes one by one into a fresh-keeping bag.
Her words were delicate with an unspoken understanding. Chao Xin’s aversion to socializing might not benefit her studio’s development.
Chao Xin had already reached her individual potential, but if she wanted to dig deeper into the industry for long-term sustainable development, she needed to nurture new talent.
Chao Xin listened attentively before sighing softly, “Thank you.”
Then she asked, “Since you don’t want meatballs, how about tomato egg soup?”
“Okay.” Xiang Wan smiled sweetly.
Chao Xin squinted her eyes, glanced at her captivating smile before taking the fresh-keeping bag from her hand. She asked softly, “Why are you helping me?”
Xiang Wan pondered for a moment before she said, “Two years ago, when I first came to Jiang City, I stayed at a friend’s house. She also extended a helping hand to me in every way.”
“Was it… Peng Xiangzhi?” Chao Xin guessed.
Xiang Wan tore another fresh-keeping bag to put the celery in.
“Su Chang?”
She slipped the celery into the bag.
“Yu Zhou?”
Xiang Wan stopped, holding the edge of the bag, letting the celery fall, “Yes.”
Her movements were empty, as were her eyes. Chao Xin’s premonition also missed a beat, so she asked, “Do you like her?”
Chao Xin rarely socialized with friends and was not particularly adept at tactfully navigating conversations. If it were someone else, they might not have asked further, but Xiang Wan was dealing with Chao Xin.
“I Did.” Xiang Wan shook her head.
“Hmm?”
“I liked her, in the past.”
Chao Xin raised her eyebrows, opening her mouth slightly, her tongue touching the roof of her mouth then retreating, before she nodded.
“So you are…” She closed her flirtatious eyes, leaned a bit closer to Xiang Wan, asking in a whisper.
“T, I am T.”[1]
Xiang Wan noticed Chao Xin’s amber-encased pupils contract as she looked her up and down, seemingly puzzled.
“What?”
Chao Xin licked her lips, “You don’t really look the part.”
“Uh…of course, I don’t mean to look down on you, those…people like you. I’m just…not very familiar.” Chao Xin nodded slowly with her hand on the shelf, her fingertips tapping quickly as if playing a swift piano melody.
Chao Xin wasn’t very knowledgeable about the trends popular among the younger generation. In order to perform for a baihe radio drama, she had even made a special effort to research.
Feeling awkward again, Chao Xin let out a sharp, short sound from her nose, cleared her throat before asking her, “Uh, lotus root slices, do you want some?”
This was the second time in a minute that Chao Xin had started a sentence with “uh” in front of Xiang Wan.
Now it was Xiang Wan’s turn to be confused. She furrowed her brow, gazing at her intently. She pondered over a word she had heard from Peng Xiangzhi, “Are you…homophobic?”
“I’m not, not, I’m not afraid, not afraid.” Chao Xin hurriedly spoke, her voice even louder than before.
“You’re afraid.” Xiang Wan bit her lip.
She’d never seen the esteemed Chao Xin so flustered before. Even though her face was still calm, as a voice actress, she wouldn’t allow flaws in her voice under normal circumstances.
Chao Xin closed her lips tightly, took a breath, let out a “Hmm” before she said, “If I were afraid, why would I voice act for a baihe radio drama?”
“I’m just…a bit surprised because you look…quite normal,” she said, choosing her words carefully.
“Normal?” Xiang Wan furrowed her eyebrows again. Her gaze deepened, revealing a mix of curiosity and slight annoyance. It was as if a little beast was awakening within her soul.
Chao Xin opened her mouth, letting out a soft hiss.
Xiang Wan didn’t push any further. Instead, she lowered her eyelids, tight-lipped and turned to go to the fresh food area.
Chao Xin furrowed her brow, trying to think of how to apologize to her, but then she saw her turning to leave. So, she reached out and grabbed her wrist, saying, “Wanwan.”
She was a bit anxious, wanting to explain that she didn’t mean it that way. She had heard Xiang Wan’s friends call her “Wanwan,” and wanted to show her closeness and confirm her acceptance for homosexuality. But it seemed like…a little too much.
Xiang Wan slowly looked at the fingers gripping her wrist, then gazed up at her, and finally blinked slowly, tentatively asking, “Ms. Chao, are you…?”
“I’m not, not, not, I…” Chao Xin suddenly let go of her, this time she didn’t even have the strength to deny it.
Xiang Wan stared at her unblinkingly, taking in her mature flowing hair, her impeccable professional blouse, her fingers twisting around the handle of the shopping cart, and her high heels that swayed like a wine glass.
Suddenly, her head tilted as she laughed slyly.
Chao Xin retracted her hand and placed it on the cart, “Xiang Wan.”
Chao Xin called out her full name with that well-known voice of hers, her aloof expression returning. However, after calling her name, she tugged at the corner of her mouth. This small action seemed to draw a line between Xiang Wan and other strangers.
It was enough to let the person in front of her know that she wasn’t truly indifferent.
Xiang Wan was a bit sly, she could see it.
But she didn’t resist Xiang Wan joking with her like this.
Xiang Wan’s smile was warm and mellow. She lowered her head to arrange the fruits and vegetables in the shopping cart, “I didn’t ask you that question for no reason. Director Peng mentioned she has a few baihe projects on hand. I thought I would ask on her behalf if you’d be interested.”
“If you’re not homophobic, that would be best.”
She tactfully shifted the conversation to work the next second. The way the young girl handled this delicate situation caught Chao Xin’s eye.
And it made her feel quite comfortable.
Chao Xin shifted her gaze away from Xiang Wan, “Send the invitation for the audio dramas to my email. I’ll need to check the character design, story, and crew first.”
“Alright.”
“So, meatballs or tomato and egg soup, you still haven’t told me.” Chao Xin had asked this before, but for some reason, she had forgotten immediately.
“Meatballs.”
Xiang Wan turned gracefully and sauntered away, leaving behind an elegant silhouette.
- T means top in lesbian relationships.[return to text]
CNYuriTranslation 