Chapter 44: Snowy Night Reverie Part 2

The director was ruthlessly pragmatic. “We don’t make guests clean. Whoever’s closest to their guest does it.”

The first guest’s friend was clearly drawing the short straw.

For some reason, Liu Song instinctively glanced at Yan Muyu.

Yan Muyu was spacing out, while Qiu Chao’s eyes were red-rimmed, though a smile played on her lips.

Qiu Siyuan smiled. “I’ll reveal it tomorrow. For now, stick to the schedule—those working go to work, those shopping go shopping.”

She added a reminder. “The village’s Fish Lantern Festival is coming up soon.”

Qiu Siyuan loved filming off-script moments, like Yan Muyu’s chance encounter with the Cooperative Store owner or the out-of-towner tea picker.

She’d even planned to drag Xiao Qing and Hong Long for interviews.

Liu Song blinked. “Fish Lantern Festival?”

“It’s a local ritual event,” Qiu Siyuan explained. “Over the weekend, you can join the guests to learn how to make fish lamps. We could form a lantern procession.”

Qiu Chao didn’t pay it much mind.

Afterward, Yan Muyu saw Hong Long and Wu Xiaoqing off. She’d decided that after pounding rice cakes the next day, Hong Long would take her down the mountain at noon to buy a used car.

She walked the two villagers out of the yard alone to the path beyond, where the crew only captured her retreating back.

“You can drive my motorcycle,” Hong Long offered.

“How many cars do you have?” Yan Muyu asked.

“We’ve got three!” Xiao Qing exclaimed.

Her fingers fumbled—she held up three fingers but meant four—drawing a laugh from Hong Long.

“She actually prefers the three-wheeler,” Hong Long said.

The woman in the red dress nodded enthusiastically.

“How about I rent it from you?” Yan Muyu suggested. “Starting tomorrow, for twenty days total. One day…”

Yan Muyu took forever to return. Qiu Chao sat in the yard, enjoying a massage from Liu Song.

Qiu Siyuan had left, and earlier Liu Song and Ding Yingxue had been guessing who was coming.

“I have a feeling they’ll start with Young Boss Yan,” Liu Song said.

“Why?” Qiu Chao asked.

“Because she looks like the most fun.”

Qiu Chao followed up. “Who do you think it’ll be?”

Liu Song didn’t know Yan Muyu well—any info she’d crammed recently.

She figured Qiu Siyuan wouldn’t be that mean, like sending an ex-girlfriend or something.

If it was an industry friend, there was director Shen Tianqing, who’d just wrapped a variety show.

Liu Song shared her theory.

But the next day perfectly dodged it.

That evening, Yan Muyu rode back from shopping on the Dayang motorcycle Hong Long had rented her. She overheard Xi Xi’s gleeful schadenfreude.

“Young Boss Yan, you’re on loft-cleaning duty.”

Yan Muyu let out an “Ah?” Xi Xi coughed. “Didn’t you check the messages? It’s Xuan Zhelu coming—not your friend?”

She emphasized “friend.” Qiu Chao was splitting firewood outside today, and the sounds carried sharply.

Ding Yingxue stared despairingly at the pile of split logs on the ground, thinking several were ruined.

Sister Qiu was in a foul mood today.

Yan Muyu furrowed her brow, glancing first at the loft, then at Xi Xi.

She took a deep breath, then turned to the follow-cam. “Can you just spill it all at once? What’s next to torture me with?”

Right then, Qiu Chao came in hugging an armful of firewood.

She might have started a high-slit skirt firewood-chopping trend—at least the viral clips online hooked it to violent aesthetics rather than her gentle beauty, praising the thrilling contrast of her swinging that axe.

Her skirt flared in a graceful arc through the air. Qiu Chao brushed past Yan Muyu with the wood, muttering a cold “Excuse me.”

“You eat explosives or something?” Yan Muyu asked.

“Aren’t you sleeping with your guest tomorrow night?” Qiu Chao shot back.

Xi Xi whistled.

Liu Song let out an “Uh,” feeling like she’d stumbled into an invisible battlefield.

Yan Muyu was speechless for a long moment, convinced Qiu Chao was openly calling her out.

“Hey!” she called, but Qiu Chao ignored her completely and went inside to cook.

【Why do “accompanying the guest” sound so hilarious hahaha】

【Go check Xuan Zhelu’s Weibo ASAP, I’m so hyped for her arrival.】

【She’s already live-streaming packing—barrage is full of fans wailing that she looks so cheap lol】

【Xuan Zhelu really likes Yan Muyu, right? Flaunting their photo together on stream.】

【Help, never pegged her as a total simp before.】

【But I think Qiu Chao’s the one into Yan Muyu… damn, jealousy makes it even spicier.】

【I’d rather see Yan Muyu cleaning.】

【Yan Muyu’s gotta pick up Xuan Zhelu tomorrow too?】

Liu Song changed the subject. “Young Boss Yan, how’s your rice cake pounding skills?”

Now that she knew it was Xuan Zhelu, Yan Muyu’s head throbbed. She even thought Shen Tianqing would’ve been preferable.

But the very next message was from her less-preferred option.

Shen Tianqing: [Image] She loves you so much.

Shen Tianqing: [Image] What does little sister-in-law say?

The renowned director had perfected gloating, capping it off with an emoji that nailed her popcorn-munching vibe over Yan Muyu’s variety stint.

She’d even dug up ancient chat logs—with Yan Muyu.

Printed screenshots, like a scrapbook. The interface showed Yan Muyu and Shen Tianqing’s texts.

Back then, Shen Tianqing rocked a classy flip phone decked in girly crystal stickers radiating teen angst.

It captured Yan Muyu’s messages, worlds apart from her now:

-Yan Dog: What do you think of this one?

-Yan Dog: [MMS]

-Yan Dog: [Photo]

-Yan Dog: Feels like none of these do Qiu Chao’s beauty justice.

Shen Tianqing’s handwritten note: She wasn’t this thoughtful with her own girlfriend, was she?

Yan Muyu opened the images. First, she silently scrolled Shen Tianqing’s screenshot of Xuan Zhelu’s Weibo.

Xuan Zhelu had reposted the show’s invite, visibly thrilled.

Then, her old clothes-shopping consult with Shen Tianqing.

The tone made even Yan Muyu cringe—pure “things change, people don’t.”

She zoned out a bit: What dress did I get Qiu Chao back then?

The memory wasn’t as fuzzy as she’d thought.

Instantly, an image surfaced: Qiu Chao in a cobalt blue maxi dress.

Film-like, with mild overexposure.

But Qiu Chao’s smile was radiant.

A candid shot—the straps weren’t tied yet, half her bra peeking out.

That style was trendy then; now it’d be braless with nipple pasties.

Back then, bras were trickier, so she’d bought matching lingerie.

Times had changed, but Yan Muyu sadly realized she still remembered Qiu Chao’s measurements from back then.

Now, their combined ages could pass for an old folks’ home, yet Qiu Chao’s figure seemed even better than before.

The tactile memory lingered on Yan Muyu’s skin, every inch a forbidden thrill she desperately suppressed.

Yet instinctual recall proved unstoppable.

Shen Tianqing didn’t tease further when Yan Muyu went quiet.

That was her style—probably revenge for Yan Muyu’s jabs during her romance with Meng Heng.

She knew about Lin Chi’s bet with Yan Muyu but didn’t bring it up now.

Yan Muyu was prone to hot-headed impulses; she wasn’t bad at heart, if anything too kind.

She drifted too much—that very detachment had spared her some deceptions.

With her own love life fulfilled, the once “neurotic widow” Shen Tianqing just wanted Yan Muyu to stop haunting like a lost soul.

Even as a ghost, at least have a grave to rest in.

No one knew if anyone would ever give Yan Muyu a real home.

Not the empty Yan Family mansion, nor the penthouse apartment atop some hotel.

Just an ordinary one—like the kind she had drunkenly described to Shen Tianqing one snowy night during their study abroad, slumped over the steps by the roadside.

“That light is truly lit for me.”

That year, Shen Tianqing had been half-mad, convinced that Shi Xu had reincarnated as some lonely foreign ghost.

On Christmas, she had dragged a bunch of foreigners into a game of pen fairy—and downed plenty of authentic Erguotou smuggled over from home.

She got Yan Muyu, who had been playing mahjong with her international friends, so wasted she was seeing double. Bereft of any national spirit, Yan Muyu lost every last cent in her wallet.

Vehicles passed on the snowy street, and a few kind souls asked if the two of them needed help, but they waved them off.

Yan Muyu mumbled incoherently, her head throbbing. The alcohol dredged up memories of the Little Sister-in-Law back home, so she dialed Qiu Chao with an international call.

Shen Tianqing protested, “Don’t bother the actress.”

But the call connected almost immediately.

Qiu Chao’s voice came through gentle as ever. “Little Yan.”

Yan Muyu let out a sudden yelp. The next instant, her stomach lurched, and she doubled over to vomit again.

Shen Tianqing burst into laughter. She watched Yan Muyu collapse against a trash bin just as a clump of snow fell from the tree overhead, smacking her square in the head. Yan Muyu cursed, “Fuck your goddamn fairy ass!”

Shen Tianqing scooped up Yan Muyu’s phone from the snow. Qiu Chao sounded worried on the other end, repeatedly calling Yan Muyu’s name.

Shen Tianqing didn’t introduce herself. She and Qiu Chao had never met, and she had no idea if Yan Muyu had ever mentioned her.

“She’s had too much to drink,” Shen Tianqing said.

“Oh,” Qiu Chao replied. The line buzzed with chaotic noise on her end—familiar to Shen Tianqing as the sounds of a film set.

“Classmate,” Qiu Chao said, “could I ask you to look after her? She gets… chatty when she’s drunk.”

Shen Tianqing had seen Yan Muyu drunk before.

The girl’s tolerance was mediocre at best, her mahjong skills abysmal, but she never threw tantrums. She just escalated from casual chatterbox to pro-level motormouth.

“I know,” Shen Tianqing said.

Of course she knew the woman on the other end of the line. Qiu Chao was the same age as Yan Muyu—in fact, a few months younger.

They were barely contemporaries.

Yet Qiu Chao’s voice carried an unmistakable maturity.

“Thank you,” Qiu Chao said.

“No need to thank me,” Shen Tianqing replied. “That’s your job, isn’t it?”

Qiu Chao seemed to falter for a moment. Shen Tianqing glanced at Yan Muyu, still retching. “Aren’t you family?”

After a pause, Qiu Chao murmured an agreement.

Then she hung up.

Shen Tianqing’s apartment building was right next to Yan Muyu’s. She roped in a student to help carry the drunkard over in no time.

Once the inebriated mess hit the bed, Yan Muyu devolved into delirious babble: one moment wailing about her missing camera, the next fretting over vanished design sketches, then promising her big brother she’d look after his wife, and finally pleading with her mom not to yank her hair…

Shen Tianqing recorded it all, planning to make Yan Muyu listen to her own foolishness come morning.

But mindful of past incidents—when Yan Muyu had once crawled under the bed and nearly suffocated herself—Shen Tianqing kept a video call open with Lin Chi, sharing the drunken antics while waiting for her charge to sober up a bit.

Shen Tianqing could pull all-nighters with ease. She wasn’t much of a sleeper anyway, forever haunted by the soul of someone long gone.

In the dead of night, the patter of snow against the awning jolted Yan Muyu awake. Bleary-eyed, she spotted the figure on the sofa and mistook it for the Yan Family home.

“Qiu Chao,” she mumbled.

“Hey!” Shen Tianqing snapped, shattering the illusion in an instant.

“Awake now? Looks like you won’t be crawling under the bed. I’m heading out.”

“Oh,” Yan Muyu mumbled. She squinted at the dim light, too lethargic to stir.

The bedroom held only the glow of a single lamp, while downstairs the Christmas revelers partied on.

The world outside thrummed with life.

Yet it only amplified the solitude within these walls.

Out of nowhere, Shen Tianqing asked, “Do you like Qiu Chao?”

Yan Muyu’s head still swam, her stomach aching. Her eyelids drooped as sleep tugged at her again.

Shen Tianqing snorted softly, convinced she had misread things.

After all, everyone said Yan Kai was set to marry Qiu Chao. For Yan Muyu to harbor feelings like that would be absurd.

She grasped the door handle and pulled it open—only to hear Yan Muyu murmur behind her,

“I like that light.”