Under His Rule ✔

Chapter 7 POV Elsie

Today, I have a scene involving falling into the water.

Splash.

I stand up from the chilly water, feeling dizzy as I emerge, and even the director's voice shouting "NG" seems unusually distant, barely audible.

Lucy rushes over with a large towel, wrapping my dripping body while whispering complaints in my ear, "The director said this take is still not good."

I squint my eyes and softly respond with a faint "uh-huh."

So far, I've repeated seven or eight takes for a single shot.

But it's not my fault.

The plot involves me rescuing the female second lead who has aquaphobia and can't get into character.

However, director Mr. Benjamin has high standards and doesn't want to use a stunt double. So we have to keep doing it over and over again. Finally, the director lets out a long sigh.

Then he turns to me, "Elsie, take a break for now."

He stays in place, explaining the scene to the female second lead.

"Okay," I nod, wrapping myself in a towel and heading to the RV assigned for me by the crew.

Lucy quickly follows, making hot tea for me while chattering incessantly, "Elsie, the director's expression just now was really bad. I thought he might explode... But you've been in the water for so long, won't you catch a cold? You should take a hot bath when you get back, or..."

The thermometer shows that the current outdoor temperature is 8 degrees Celsius.

The water begins boiling, and I take the hot tea from Lucy, sipping it.

"It's okay; I rarely get sick."

As it turns out, one should avoid making flags.

In the afternoon, after returning to the hotel and just finishing a shower, my temples throb, and my eyelids become increasingly heavy.

I lie on the bed in a daze, and the phone on the bedside table suddenly buzzes.

The incoming call display instantly wakes me up.

I cough twice before answering, "...Mr. Vincent."

"What's wrong with your voice?"

Did he find out? I disguise it, "It's nothing. I talked too much during shooting and got a bit of a cough."

"Okay." A muffled closing door sound comes from Vincent's end as he lowers his voice, "Are you free tonight?"

I bite my lip, "I'll come to you."

After hanging up, I get out of bed, put on a coat, and quickly drive to his residential complex.

Making sure there are no paparazzi around, I swiftly take the elevator. As soon as I enter, Vincent pours me a glass of water,

"It's late for you to come out; won't you get scolded?"

"No, there's no shoot tonight." I take off my coat.

"Mr. Vincent."

When Vincent is about to lead me to the bedroom, I call him softly. "Hmm?"

"I've learned some new things recently." I swallow and express my thoughts discreetly.

"What have you learned? Show me." Vincent raises an eyebrow, teasingly saying.

The atmosphere escalates to this point.

I'm determined to let him sit on the sofa, unzip his pants. Then, I cup my chest with both hands, squeezing that thing into the deep cleavage.

A satisfied sigh.

Vincent can't hold back any longer, stands up, and pulls me onto the sofa.

But just as we start kissing, his hands suddenly stop, then go to touch my forehead.

He stands up and distance himself.

"Mr. Vincent." I sit up, following him, "Why not continue?"

"You have a fever." I pause for a moment and say, "It's not serious."

I mean it wouldn't affect us having sex.

But Vincent frowns, turns around, and heads for the foyer.

"Are you angry?" I ask.

"Put on your clothes." Vincent hands me the coat hanging on the foyer rack.

"I'm sorry," I apologize.

But after zipping up my coat, I look up and realize that Vincent has also put on his coat.

"Are you going out?" I'm surprised.

Vincent reaches out and touches my forehead again, "I'll take you to the hospital; you have a high fever."

In the car.

I sit in the passenger seat, turning to him, "Mr. Vincent, are we really not going to have sex?"

After all, we haven't seen each other for nearly 20 days, and he finally took the time to see me. I don't want to ruin his mood.

"Elsie." Vincent's brows furrow even more, and he stares at me intently, "I really want to know, what am I to you."

I begin to carefully choose my words.

The next second, I hear him say, "Am I a psycho?"

"No, of course not."

"Then just be good and go see a doctor."

Vincent takes me to the nearest hospital. Even though it's nighttime, the hospital is still bustling with people.

Fortunately, I've wrapped myself up tightly so that no one can recognize me.

After a brief consultation, I walk out of the diagnosis room with the doctor's prescription.

Vincent waits for me by the door, "What did the doctor say?"

I reply, "He wants me to do a blood test."

Since it's nighttime, there's only one nurse on duty at the blood-drawing window.

I stand in line behind a sobbing little girl, and the nurse prepares without expression.

Seeing the gleam in the nurse's eyes as she stares at the needle, coupled with the cries of the little girl, my heart tightens.

It's time for the needle, and the middle-aged nurse says to that girl, "Honey, don't be afraid. I'm very gentle and won't hurt you."

I swallow hard behind.

Lady, you better live up to your words.

The needle pierces the little girl's fingertip, and she just whimpers, not the loud crying I imagined.

But when it's my turn, I look at the elastic band tied around my arm, clenching my fist, feeling my muscles already stiffening.

One difficult thing to admit is that I'm very afraid of needles. I've been afraid since I was a child.

The nurse swabs my skin with iodine using a cotton swab and starts looking for my vein.

I swallow.

She keeps tapping my skin and keeps telling me to clench my fist. My other hand is also clenched into a fist, placed on the table.

I nervously watch the needle in the nurse's hand.

As soon as the icy feeling of the needle touches my skin, everything suddenly goes black in front of my eyes.