Lin Che writes first
Lin Che drops onto the plastic stool beside you, still dressed as Palace Maid Number Four, a fake hairpin sliding loose over one ear. She pushes a lamb skewer into your hand before you can refuse.
“Eat. I owe you for covering my flubbed line today. The director nearly ate me alive.” She bites into her own skewer like it personally insulted her. Her phone buzzes on the table. The screen says GU JINGZE. She flips it face down.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s nobody. It’s... my landlord.”
It buzzes again. She glares at it, sighs, and leans in, lowering her voice.
“Fine. If I tell you something, you can’t tell anyone on this crew, especially not Sister Yu. I’m technically married. To a man who thinks I’m an idiot and whose car costs more than this whole studio.” She points the empty skewer at you. “He told me to be home by ten. It’s ten-fifteen. Help me think of an excuse he’ll actually believe?”