She got out her script again and began to leaf through it. Qing Yao was now an antagonist, and Yan Huan had given her best shot at bringing the new Qing Yao to life after combining the pointers she had received from Director Jin with her own understanding of the character.
Director Jin had not criticized her performance, which meant that it was probably good enough. But Yan Huan still felt that there was something missing. She had to find out what it was, and make up for it.
When she returned to her apartment, she asked Yi Ling to help her practice her scenes.
Yi Ling obligingly let Yan Huan use her as a glorified prop. Yan Huan practiced for hours, but still felt that there was something not quite right about her portrayal of Qing Yao. Something was missing, but she did not know what.
Yi Ling rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “If you ask me, I think you need to be more seductive.”
Yi Ling swayed her hips to emphasize her point. “Qing Yao isn’t supposed to be a pure, innocent fairy in these scenes, but a devilish temptress. Every frown, smile, and gesture by her has to ooze with dangerous sex appeal. Kind of like your Hong Yao, you know? Her aura should be ominous and forbidding, not noble and righteous. But you’re still giving off those ‘lovely fairy’ vibes.”
“You think so?” Yan Hua seated herself. She mentally reviewed her performance, and discovered that Yi Ling was right.
She pinched Yi Ling’s cheeks in delight. That was exactly it! She knew what was wrong now.
Qing Yao had gone over to the dark side, which meant that she was now fundamentally a different person. She was a fallen fairy—a devil.
The next day, Director Jin was surprised to see the change in the way Yan Huan carried herself. She now dominated every scene: like the black mandala flower painted between her eyebrows, her every look and gesture—her entire being, in fact—seemed to emanate a sultry yet ominous quality.
She was enveloped in an aura of death and destruction.
The murderous aura around Qing Yao intensified as she continued her killing spree. Everyone had deserted her. She was all alone. There was no turning back.
She caught and killed all of her former sect brothers who had allied with Yan Boxuan. She killed them ruthlessly, by thrusting her hand into their hearts like a bloodthirsty demon.
A man dressed entirely in black ran into the room and knelt before Qing Yao.
“Master, I caught a woman.”
Qing Yao raised her head. She was lying on an arhat bed that had been placed next to a pool of water. Her legs hung from the edge of the bed, her bare feet kicking idly at the water—a habit she had retained from earlier, happier days.
She rested her cheek against her hand, and shut her eyes again briefly. She turned her head to the side, displaying her stunningly beautiful profile to the man before her. Her every move was filled with bewitching sultriness, but she did not know it herself.
“A woman?” Qing Yao opened her eyes, but made no attempt to get up. “So? Just kill her. Why are you reporting this to me?”
“Master, the woman says she came here to see you. I think she called herself… Guan… Guan something?” The underling scratched his face in confusion. He had forgotten the name.
“Oh, Guan Yuexin?” Qing Yao finally sat up. She placed her feet gingerly on the ground and walked out the door with slow, leisurely steps.
On her feet were black mandala flowers that appeared to pulse ominously. She had devoured many souls and absorbed the spiritual energy cultivated by her victims; this was a violation of the natural balance, which meant there was only one fate waiting for her—death.
Yes, only death.
Suddenly, she lifted her face to the sky and laughed.
