It had been three days.
Wei Ran noticed it the moment he stepped onto the set.
His eyes moved before his thoughts did—left corridor, storage area, monitor corner, behind the lighting rigs. A quick sweep. Automatic.
Then he did it again.
And stopped.
She wasn't there.
"Morning."
He nodded at whoever greeted him and kept walking. Makeup chair. Script in hand. Same routine. Same timing.
His eyes drifted once more toward the far corridor.
Empty.
"You lose something?"
Wei Ran glanced sideways. Zhou Kai stood beside him, hands in his jacket pockets, watching him with mild curiosity.
"No."
Zhou Kai followed his line of sight anyway.
"You've checked that direction three times," he said calmly.
Wei Ran looked away. "Just looking."
"Mm."
Zhou Kai didn't look convinced.
After a pause, Wei Ran spoke again, tone casual. "There was a girl here a few days ago."
Zhou Kai raised an eyebrow. "That narrows it down to about half the industry."
"She had a notebook."
"That narrows it down to the other half."
Wei Ran didn't smile.
Zhou Kai studied him for a second. "Intern?"
"Maybe."
"You ask anyone?"
"Not yet."
Zhou Kai shrugged. "People come and go. Especially on big sets."
Wei Ran nodded once.
That should have been enough.
---
Filming started.
"Action."
Wei Ran stepped into character like slipping into a coat. Lines delivered clean. Movements precise. No hesitation.
"Cut."
The director seemed satisfied.
Between takes, Wei Ran reached for water—and realized he was looking toward the corridor again.
Empty.
He frowned slightly at himself.
Sleep deprivation, maybe.
The schedule had been lighter than usual, but he'd still slept less than he should. Late script revisions. Early calls. Endless repetition.
Zhou Kai appeared again near the monitor.
"You slept four hours last night," he said mildly. "Start seeing ghosts yet?"
Wei Ran didn't answer.
"Don't tell me this notebook girl doesn't exist."
"She exists."
"You sure?"
Wei Ran's jaw tightened slightly.
He remembered the weight against his chest. The grip on his collar. The way she had whispered, "Hide me."
That wasn't imagination.
"I'm sure," he said flatly.
Zhou Kai studied him for a moment longer than usual.
"You've been scanning the set since you got here," he said calmly. "Did she do something?"
Wei Ran didn't look at him. "Do something?"
"You don't get distracted," Zhou Kai continued. "So either she caused trouble… or she caused something."
A beat.
Wei Ran flipped a page in his script, eyes lowered.
"Nothing happened."
Zhou Kai waited.
Wei Ran added, almost too evenly, "She just stood in the wrong place."
"The corridor?" Zhou Kai asked lightly.
Wei Ran's fingers paused for half a second before turning the page.
"Yeah."
Zhou Kai hummed. "And that's enough to have you looking for her three days later?"
Wei Ran finally glanced at him.
"It interrupted my break," he said. "That's all."
Zhou Kai's mouth twitched faintly. He didn't believe it.
"Right," he said. "Must've been very disruptive."
Wei Ran didn't respond.
And that silence said more than any explanation could.
---
The set moved on.
Props shifted. Assistants rushed. Someone complained about catering again. Everything was loud and ordinary, like nothing unusual had ever happened in that narrow space.
Wei Ran finished two more scenes without error.
Still, during break, he found himself walking the longer route again.
The corridor was empty.
Concrete wall. Storage crates. No sign anyone had been there.
He stood there for a moment longer than necessary.
If she had really been in trouble—
He cut the thought off.
He didn't know her. Didn't owe her anything.
Still.
He walked back.
---
At noon.
The energy on set changed slightly. A small group gathered near the monitors. Nothing dramatic—just a few extra bodies standing closer than usual.
Wei Ran noticed someone new among them.
Or not new.
Different.
She stood slightly behind two crew members, listening. Her clothes were simple but well-fitted. Neutral colors. Hair down this time, falling naturally over her shoulders.
No notebook.
No tension.
No corner.
He barely registered her at first.
Just another face.
Then—
Something tightened in his chest.
Subtle.
Unreasonable.
He glanced again.
She shifted her weight slightly. Turned her head as someone beside her spoke.
Same eyes.
He froze.
The shape of her face was clearer now. Hair different. Expression calm. Composed.
Not the girl pressed against a concrete wall.
He stared longer than he meant to.
"Ah," Zhou Kai said casually from beside him. "You like that type?"
Wei Ran didn't answer.
"You're staring."
"I'm not."
"Sure."
Zhou Kai smirked but didn't push.
Wei Ran kept watching.
It didn't make sense.
Three days ago, she had looked plain. Blended in. Shoulders drawn slightly inward. Notebook tucked close.
This woman stood straight. Relaxed. As if she had always belonged there.
Different clothes.
Different posture.
But—
The feeling was the same.
That quiet pull.
He watched as she nodded at something someone said. Her expression barely shifted. Controlled. Present.
Then, almost accidentally, she turned slightly in his direction.
Their eyes didn't fully meet.
Not directly.
Just close enough.
His breath caught before he could stop it.
It was her.
Or at least—
It had to be.
The memory aligned without asking permission. The corridor. The grip. The whisper.
No one else reacted. No one looked at her twice. She blended into the set like she had always been there.
Which made it worse.
If she was just normal—
Why did he feel it again?
"Don't tell me," Zhou Kai said lightly, "you've fallen in love with a stranger."
Wei Ran exhaled once through his nose.
"I don't fall for strangers."
"Good," Zhou Kai said. "That would be inconvenient."
Wei Ran didn't move.
Across the set, she continued her quiet conversation, unaware—or pretending to be unaware—of his stare.
Three days of doubt dissolved in one instant.
He hadn't imagined her.
He hadn't exaggerated it.
She had been there.
And now she was here again.
This time, not hiding.
But he still didn't know which version was real.
The corridor girl—
Or this one.
Wei Ran finally looked away, but the unsettled feeling didn't leave.
It only sharpened.