Melon Eating Cannon Fodder, On Air!-Chapter 70 - Seventy: The First Move

Sun Qiaolian sat across from her manager in a quiet café tucked behind the studio district, the kind of place where difficult conversations were conducted softly and without witnesses. The hum of the espresso machine filled the gaps where words hesitated.

Her manager slid a thin folder across the table.

"This is what we secured," she said.

Sun Qiaolian opened it.

Her gaze stalled.

Then froze.

A minor role.

Not a supporting character.

Not a recurring presence.

Not even a disciple with a name the audience would remember.

Just a brief appearance. A few lines. A role so small it could be cut without affecting the story.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the paper.

"...This?" she asked quietly.

Her manager nodded. "Yes."

Sun Qiaolian lifted her head, disbelief finally breaking through her composure. "Wasn’t it confirmed to be me?" she asked. "You told me they liked me and I just have to turn up at the audition, leaving everything else to them. You said it was basically settled."

Her manager did not answer right away. She stirred her coffee once, slow and deliberate, as if buying time.

"Things changed," she said.

Sun Qiaolian’s stomach dropped. "Changed how?"

"There was competition," her manager replied. "And someone else... went further."

The words were vague. They did not need to be clearer. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Sun Qiaolian went very still.

"Further?" she echoed.

Her manager met her eyes this time. "Qiaolian, you know what I mean."

Silence settled between them, thick and heavy.

Sun Qiaolian remembered the private dinner room. The soft lighting. The way the atmosphere had shifted as the night went on. Glasses refilled without asking. Compliments that edged closer to appraisal than praise.

She remembered the hands.

Hands that lingered too long when pouring wine.|

Hands that brushed her waist when she stood.

Hands that tested boundaries under the cover of laughter.

She had endured that much.

She had let herself be touched, slightly.

She had drunk more than she wanted.

She had smiled when she wanted to leave.

She had told herself that this was tolerable.

But then the tone had changed.

The smiles had sharpened.

The invitations had become private.

The expectations had stopped pretending.

She had understood then.

Perfectly.

She had played dumb. Changed the subject. Pretended not to hear what was being implied. She had left before anything could be demanded outright.

She had believed that drawing the line there would still be enough. Besides, this role wasn’t enough for her to go beyond.

"So," Sun Qiaolian said slowly, "who got the role?"

Her manager hesitated for a fraction of a second. "Someone new. Not particularly experienced."

Sun Qiaolian let out a soft, incredulous laugh. "But willing and obedient."

Her manager did not deny it.

"She made them happy," she said carefully. "That was enough."

The café felt suddenly too bright.

Sun Qiaolian looked down at the folder again, at the thinness of it, at how little space her name occupied.

"So this is what I get," she said. "For stopping where I did."

Her manager’s expression tightened. "You didn’t do anything wrong."

"That’s not the same as doing enough," Sun Qiaolian replied. She knew that everyone was measured by their worth if one doesn’t have any backing.

Her manager sighed. "This industry doesn’t reward restraint. It rewards compliance."

The words cut deeper than any accusation.

Sun Qiaolian had always believed she was better than this. Kinder. More sincere. More deserving than the others who smiled too brightly and leaned too close.

She had believed that staying just this side of the line would keep her safe.

Now she understood the truth. Stopping halfway only meant she had paid the cost without receiving the reward.

Others moved ahead. An Ning had earned a real audition through ability and being in the Shen Entertainment. Lu Jiaxin stood firmly at the center of the project. And she, who had compromised enough to feel ashamed but not enough to be chosen, was left holding a role that barely existed.

"I understand," Sun Qiaolian said at last. Of course she did, she had known the meaning of value more than anyone.

Her manager studied her. "Do you?"

Sun Qiaolian nodded.

Yes.

She understood that the role she wanted had gone to someone who had crossed the line she refused to step over.

She understood that in this world, boundaries were not respected. They were exploited.

And as she stood to leave, the folder tucked under her arm like proof of her place, something cold settled in her chest.

She had not been rejected because she lacked talent. She had been rejected because she had chosen not to sell herself completely.

Her familiar smile returned as she stepped back into the street, flawless and practiced.

But behind it, something had shifted. It was as though as she had made a decision that she had pondered over.

She took out here phone and dialled a number that she had keyed in several times but never did call.

The phone rang and was picked up on the third ring. "Shen Xiyu speaking, who is this?"

"Xiyu-ge," Sun Qiaolian replied. "Are you by any chance free?"

*****

The little melon bobbed into An Ning’s vision with the enthusiasm of someone who had just uncovered a particularly juicy piece of gossip.

"Ningning," it said, voice lowered in exaggerated secrecy, "timeline deviation detected."

An Ning paused mid-step, brow lifting slightly. She did not stop walking, only slowed enough to signal she was listening. "Which one?"

"Sun Qiaolian and Shen Xiyu," the little melon replied, spinning once in place. "They have already made contact."

An Ning’s expression remained calm, but her fingers curled faintly around the strap of her bag. "Earlier than expected?"

"Much earlier," the little melon confirmed. "In the original timeline, Shen Xiyu was the one who reached out first. He noticed her distress, felt protective, and gradually pursued her. It was slow. Organic. Very ’male lead coded.’"

"And now?" An Ning asked.

The melon’s tiny crown tilted. "Now she called him first."

An Ning stopped walking.

The corridor outside the studio was quiet, footsteps echoing distantly. She leaned lightly against the wall, gaze unfocused as she processed the information.

"She initiated," the melon continued. "Not accidentally. Not under the guise of work. She made the first move deliberately."

An Ning exhaled softly. "That is a significant change."

"Yes," the little melon agreed cheerfully. "Because Sun Qiaolian is not reacting anymore. She is acting."

"Well, I am assuming that now things didn’t go as smoothly as it should for her." An Ning had a mischievous smile on her face. "She started to get panicky."

"Not wrong," the little melon replied. "In the original timeline, things usually just go well for her. She had everything she wanted delivered straight to her at the expense of others."

"Of course," An Ning scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Others paid for it, she harvested the result. If I recalled correctly, this film’s main role eventually did go to her right?"

"Yes! You are right. After Lu Jiaxin’s death, one thing lead to another and eventually, she got the role and this was her first breakthrough." The little melon said. "Which reminds me, we still have a mission on hand!"

An Ning folded her arms, "You are right. Most pressing matter right now is averting Lu Jiaxin’s death."

The original timeline had never been kind to those who deserved better. An Ning understood that more clearly than anyone. Fate, as written in that novel, had been ruthless in its efficiency, rewarding those who took shortcuts and discarding those who hesitated, questioned, or tried to hold on to a sense of decency.

An Ning tapped her fingers on the table, she had to find a way to let Lu Jiaxin know of her best friend and her husband’s betrayal but this definitely shouldn’t come from her. After all, people usually hate those who come bearing the bad news.

"How about through dreams?" The little melon suggested. "Except that it would require your luck value."

An Ning fell silent at the suggestion, her fingers pausing mid-tap.

"Dreams?" she repeated, tone thoughtful rather than dismissive.

"Yes," the little melon said, bobbing enthusiastically. "Just snippets of the original timeline, just enough for Lu Jiaxin to start to suspect and probably be on guard."

An Ning did not answer immediately. Her gaze drifted to the window beside the corridor, where afternoon light slanted in softly, catching dust motes in the air.

"And how much luck value would it cost?" she asked at last.

The little melon hesitated, crown wobbling slightly. "A fair amount. Not catastrophic, but not light either. Enough to be... felt."

An Ning let out a quiet breath. "Of course it would be."

Luck value was not something she treated lightly. In this world, it was currency, leverage, protection. Spending it recklessly could backfire in ways even the system could not fully predict. And yet, if she waited too long, the threads were already shifting. Sun Qiaolian was acting earlier. Shen Xiyu was being pulled into a different trajectory. The original timeline was unraveling faster than expected.

If Lu Jiaxin remained unaware, then the danger would not announce itself politely.

An Ning closed her eyes briefly, recalling the woman she had seen on screen. The calm strength. The quiet dignity. The way she smiled at others even when carrying her own fractures.

"She doesn’t deserve that ending," An Ning said softly.

The little melon’s voice gentled. "No. She doesn’t."

An Ning opened her eyes slowly, resolve settling in where hesitation had been. If fate insisted on repeating itself, then she would interfere until it broke. Whether through dreams, fragments of truth, or the careful expenditure of luck she could not afford to lose, she would make sure Lu Jiaxin was given a chance to see the cracks before they widened into something fatal.

Somewhere else in the city, Sun Qiaolian was already pulling at another thread, choosing a different path after tasting rejection for the first time.

And as those threads tightened and crossed in unseen ways, An Ning understood one thing with absolute clarity: this story had already diverged too far to return to its original ending, and from this point onward, every choice would matter.