Our Tender Harmony

After a full day of shooting, most of the cast had retreated back to their own rooms. With still another hour before dinner, some went to workout, some went to socialize, some left the set entirely to do promotional shoots, and some sat down to review their scenes for the next day.

Xia Ruyun fell into the last category. Her hair had been bound into a loose bun and she had changed into a loose t-shirt and shorts. She sat cross-legged in front of her sleek, modern-style desk. A latte sat by her, its milky coffee scent spreading through the air. Soft music filled her room—faint enough that it merely teased her ears. She hummed along, murmuring the lyrics while her pen danced across her printed script.

Dense writing covered the page, tone notes for individual phrases, overall character notes for posture and expression, and a swath of additional notes from past practice sessions. Having just talked through the script by herself, she starred the two lines she had stumbled over.

A slow yawn slipped through her lips.

She clicked her pen.

“I just don’t feel it. How am I supposed to show that much fear? My face doesn’t move that much…”

Leaning back in her chair, Xia Ruyun swept her eyes through her room. Searching. Searching for anything that might provide a dribble of inspiration.

Her bed sat in the corner. White sheets, white covers, white pillows—nothing special. The door to her bathroom. The small open space. The vase full of fake flowers. The gaudy painting from who knows where.

She pursed her lips. After a few seconds, she sighed. “I’ll ask Feiling later.”

The song came to a close. The singer’s voice faded, and in those few seconds of silence before the next song, Xia Ruyun felt the world close in a little.

I just don’t get acting. I’m not cut out for it...

What if I just quit? What if I move to the mountains and become a nun? What if I become a worm and laid in bed forever?

She knew.

She knew that, logically, rationally, reasonably, she shouldn’t trust her thoughts or her insecurities, but they really knew how to poke at her most tender points.

I’m an adult. I’m 26. I shouldn’t be this fragile.

I should be able to just be strong.

Right?

As the next song started, she pushed the thoughts back out of her mind—threw them aside like a scumbag ex. Not that she had an ex.

---

An hour later, Xia Ruyun sat in a restaurant on the 10th floor alone. Sat in the corner table by the window, she scrolled through her phone while working her way through a potato salad. Tearing her eyes away from her phone, her face blanched as she stared at her plate.

It felt… foreign?

It’s only been a couple months, but I’m already not used to eating without Feiling.

At the same time, her stomach called to her with desperate howls.

I miss fried chicken. I want fried chicken so bad. I want to eat fried chicken and instant noodles…

She set down her phone, massaging her temples with one hand. Despite her best efforts though, her frown refused to disappear and her fork stayed still.

“Hi, how are you enjoying the meal? Everything alright?” A waiter walked over, pulling Xia Ruyun out of her thoughts. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“Ah, no, the food’s great, thank you,” Xia Ruyun flashed a smile to the waiter. “It’s lovely, no worries.”

“Alright then, I’ll leave you to it, let me know when you’d like the bill,” The waiter nodded, refilling her cup of water before walking off to check on a different patron.

Xia Ruyun, meanwhile, began poking at her food once more. One bite, a second bite, and bit-by-bit she worked through the potato salad.

I wish I didn’t have to maintain my figure.

---

The door shut with a click. Having finished her dinner, Xia Ruyun returned to her room with a sigh. In the doorway, she pulled her shoes off while supporting herself with one hand before stepping into a pair of slippers. Walking further into the room, she drew the curtains to the window before settling at the table in the center of the room.

She spread her papers, moved her speaker, and settled into the chair. Swiping through her phone, she restarted the same album she had been listening to earlier in the day. Once settled, she couldn’t help but feel a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Tonight, she and Li Feiling had decided to have their nightly practice session in her room instead.

Is this what it feels like to be an emperor’s favored concubine?

Ten minutes of idling on her phone later, and a couple knocks came from the door. Pushing herself up from her chair, Xia Ruyun walked towards the doorway with a few light steps. As she walked though, she heard a certain woman’s cheery laugh from the other side of the doorway.

“Xia Ruyun, Xia Ruyun, let me in! Zombies are coming,” Li Feiling joked as she increased the speed of her knocking. “You’re not going to let me die out here are yo-”

“Of course not,” Xia Ruyun pulled the door open with a laugh. “Welcome in, welcome in. This is my humble abode. Smaller than yours, but nice nonetheless.”

“Mn, they did book a good room for you, what a good use of Chu Changfeng’s funding,” Li Feiling walked around, inspecting the room with the air an imperial censor. As she did though, she paused as the music reached her ears. “Ruyun?”

“Yes?” Xia Ruyun closed the door, walking to the center table and taking a seat.

“Are you listening… to your own album?” Li Feiling facepalmed with an exasperated laugh.

“I am, am I not allowed to?” Xia Ruyun stared up at Li Feiling with a smile.

“Is it not… I don’t know, I don’t make music. Is it not a little shameless?” Li Feiling shook her head with a laugh. She pulled the chair out across from Xia Ruyun and took a seat. “Is it common?”

“I have no idea,” Xia Ruyun hummed along to the tune of the music. “But I do. I’m also quite shameless, so it fits my image.”

“… I don’t know if I’d call you shameless, but sure,” Li Feiling leaned down, pulling open her bag and taking out her own script. A similar set of papers appeared on the table—this set, though, much cleaner with only a few stars, triangles, and underlines dotting its surface. “So, what do you want to go over today?”

“I wanted to go over the betrayal scene that I have tomorrow,” Xia Ruyun sighed, flipping through her own script. “Not the scene we share. We can practice that one tomorrow.”

“Mn, sure, no issues on my end,” Li Feiling slid her script to the side. Leaning forward, she propped her chin up with one hand. “Any questions? Any guidance I can provide?”

Xia Ruyun, with her eyes still on the script, opened her mouth to answer only to pause. Silence fell between them, the air filled only with gentle singing—Xia Ruyun from five years prior. Then, after a few seconds, Xia Ruyun’s shoulders dropped as her voice came out in a sliver.

“I just… I just really don’t get this scene. I just don’t understand…”