Melon Eating Cannon Fodder, On Air!-Chapter 62 - Sixty-Two: The First Tug

Appearances could be deceiving. A person’s life might be quietly breaking apart, piece by piece, and yet they could still smile as though nothing had happened.

An Ning liked to think that this was a coping mechanism for many. After all, outsiders loved to measure their own lives against others’. Some even took a perverse comfort in knowing that someone else’s life was worse than theirs.

The world could be unkind in countless ways.

But it was not without kindness.

In her previous world, An Ning had received kindness too. From fans who supported her regardless of rumours, regardless of endings, regardless of how abruptly she had disappeared. They stayed. They remembered. That alone had once been enough to keep her standing.

Now, looking at the woman in front of her, An Ning’s thoughts drifted.

Lu Jiaxin did not have a good ending in the original timeline.

"Ningning, this was not simply called an ending," the little melon said, pausing for the briefest moment, as though even it found the truth distasteful. "She died."

An Ning nodded slowly.

"I know."

In the novel, it had been written as an accident. A tragic slip. A cruel twist of fate. The sort of conclusion that allowed everyone involved to walk away clean, grieving just enough to look human.

But An Ning knew better.

Accidents did not always happen by chance. Some were merely convenient.

She looked at Lu Jiaxin again. The gentle smile. The calm posture. The quiet grace she carried even now, standing beneath the lights as if she had never once been broken.

If appearances truly were deceiving, then Lu Jiaxin was the most convincing illusion of all.

An Ning’s gaze lingered on Lu Jiaxin a moment longer.

On the surface, everything about her looked right. Her smile was gentle, her posture composed, her presence warm enough to soothe a room full of strangers. It was the kind of calm that cameras loved and audiences trusted.

But An Ning had learned long ago that calm could be cultivated.

Some people learned to smile because they were happy.

Others learned to smile because it was safer than telling the truth.

"She looks fine," An Ning murmured softly.

The little melon bobbed beside her, unusually subdued. "That is what everyone thought too. Right up until the end."

An Ning did not ask how.

She already knew.

In the original timeline, Lu Jiaxin’s death had been wrapped neatly. An unfortunate accident. A slip at the wrong time. A woman with too much on her mind. The media mourned briefly. Netizens sighed. Life moved on.

The people who benefited the most from her absence cried the hardest.

An Ning’s fingers curled slightly at her side.

"How long?" she asked.

The little melon hesitated. "From today? Less than a year."

An Ning exhaled slowly.

Less than a year. For someone who had endured years of silence, of suffocation, of making herself smaller just to survive, less than a year felt almost cruel.

She watched as Lu Jiaxin laughed softly at something the director said, her eyes crinkling just a little at the corners. It was a real reaction. Unforced. Honest.

That was what unsettled An Ning the most.

Lu Jiaxin was not pretending in this moment.

"She came back," An Ning said quietly. "She finally came back to where she belonged."

"Yes," the little melon replied. "And that is exactly why the ending happened."

An Ning understood then.

Some people could tolerate a woman as long as she stayed quiet. As long as she remained decorative, compliant, grateful. As long as she did not try to reclaim anything that had been taken from her.

The moment she reached for her life again, she became inconvenient.

An Ning’s eyes hardened, just a fraction.

"This time," she said calmly, "that ending does not get to happen."

The little melon froze mid-air.

"Ningning," it said carefully, "changing her fate will not be easy."

An Ning’s lips curved, faint and unreadable. "I know."

She looked at Lu Jiaxin once more, at the woman who smiled as if she had already survived everything.

"But difficult," An Ning added, "has never been a reason for me to do nothing."

The little melon hovered closer, its glow flickering faintly. "Intervening will draw attention. The forces around her are not simple."

"I am aware," An Ning replied.

She shifted her weight slightly, eyes never leaving Lu Jiaxin. From the way the woman spoke, to the way she held her teacup, to the pauses she allowed herself before answering questions, everything about her carried restraint. Not the timid kind, but the kind born from long practice.

Someone who had learned when to speak.

And more importantly, when not to.

"Tell me," An Ning said quietly. "Who benefits most from her death?"

The little melon did not answer immediately. When it finally spoke, its tone had lost all playfulness.

"Her husband. His family. And one other person."

An Ning’s gaze sharpened. "The friend."

"Yes," the little melon confirmed. "The one who stays close. The one who comforts her. The one who cries the loudest at the funeral."

An Ning closed her eyes briefly.

She had seen this story before. Too many times. Different faces, different names, same ending. A woman steps aside for love, sacrifices her career, her independence, her voice. When she finally tries to return, she is quietly erased.

Accidents were convenient things.

"So the trigger," An Ning said, "is not her return."

The little melon bobbed. "It is her intention to leave."

An Ning opened her eyes again. Lu Jiaxin was listening attentively as Zhou Zhenyu spoke, nodding with genuine interest. She looked relaxed. Comfortable. Almost hopeful.

Hope was dangerous.

"She does not know yet," An Ning murmured.

"No," the little melon said. "In the original timeline, she only learned the truth shortly before her death. It was sudden. Overwhelming."

An Ning’s jaw tightened.

"Then we do not wait for that moment," she said. "We move before she is cornered."

The little melon hesitated. "Your actions will cause ripples. Some outcomes may change in ways you cannot predict."

"That is fine," An Ning replied evenly. "I am not trying to predict everything. I am only changing one thing."

"And that is?"

An Ning’s gaze softened, just slightly, as Lu Jiaxin laughed again, this time a little freer than before.

"She will not be alone."

The little melon went quiet.

In the distance, the director called for everyone to gather. Dinner preparations were underway. Lanterns were being lit one by one, their warm glow spreading across the courtyard like a promise.

Lu Jiaxin turned, her eyes briefly meeting An Ning’s across the space.

For a heartbeat, something passed between them. Recognition, perhaps. Or instinct.

Lu Jiaxin smiled at her.

An Ning returned it.

Somewhere deep within the tangled threads of fate, something shifted.