Chapter 63: Damp Soil Part 1

Qiu Chao rarely had such a long phone conversation with Qiu Yuan, and her mood was clearly much improved.

Qiu Yuan wasn’t much of a talker. Over the years, she had preferred to keep to herself. With the money Qiu Chao had earned, she bought her a tea mountain and built her an artist’s studio. Now, Qiu Yuan enjoyed a fairly stable life.

Qiu Chao wouldn’t push her to start dating, either.

Perhaps it was because she herself, as the older sister, had little experience with romance. She just wanted Qiu Yuan to be happy.

Qiu Yuan asked, “So if you two really end up together, will you go public?”

She rarely went online herself. Her assistant handled posting her works. In the art circle, she was somewhat well-known but kept a very low profile.

People in that line of work needed promotion and management, though. With Qiu Chao’s money, she could provide it all.

Having endured so much hardship herself, Qiu Chao understood all too well the miseries of poverty and the lingering regrets from her youth. She always went all out to fulfill whatever Qiu Yuan wanted.

In turn, this made Qiu Yuan worry about Qiu Chao’s own happiness.

Qiu Yuan said, “It’s not allowed domestically yet…”

Qiu Chao shook her head. “That’s okay. Life is what you make of it.”

She smiled. “Of course, I’d love for the whole world to know that we’re together. But Mai Chen—just Mai-jie—she’d blow a gasket.”

Qiu Chao seemed lost in some fantasy. To Qiu Yuan, her smile looked strangely unfamiliar.

Like the big sister she truly was to her little sister.

Qiu Yuan said, “Haven’t you already started living together?”

She tilted her head. Her little sister had naturally fair skin to begin with, and since she spent so little time in the sun—always holed up in the artist’s studio—it was pale to an almost startling degree.

But the scars on her face, though repaired, still bore heavy flaws. That was why Qiu Yuan avoided seeing people.

Qiu Chao replied, “Not even close.”

Her focus was entirely on her conversation with Qiu Yuan. She didn’t hear the noises from the courtyard.

Yan Muyu had already brought the fish lamps back from the workshop. Rain was still falling outside. Li Xi climbed out of the passenger seat and called for help unloading the items from the car.

After stepping inside, Yan Muyu shrugged off her soaked jacket. While doing so, she asked Liu Song, “Where’s Qiu Chao? She hasn’t come down at all?”

The live stream viewers had spent the entire morning on edge, glued to Yan Muyu’s footage. This stand-in boss from a wealthy family was wildly daring, barreling through the storm without a second thought.

The crew had announced they’d postpone until tomorrow, but Yan Muyu insisted on driving into town anyway.

Li Xi, riding shotgun, had nearly hurled.

She’d even joked that she’d already written her last will and testament in her head, begging the audience to make sure it got recorded.

Yan Muyu had laughed and called her pretty witty.

Liu Song eyed the plastic bag still clutched in her hand. “What’s that?”

Yan Muyu said, “Pine nut candy from town. Want some?”

Liu Song blinked. “You even bought candy?”

【Yeah, yeah—make Li Xi haul the fish lamp while you go goofing off.】

【Doesn’t seem like Yan Muyu was craving it herself…】

【Bet she bought it for Qiu Chao.】

【What makes you say that?】

Yan Muyu hummed in agreement. “It was on the way.”

【Bull!】

【You totally planned this!】

After grabbing a handful for Liu Song, she headed upstairs. Liu Song watched her hurried steps. Then Li Xi walked in and griped, “I thought I was gonna die.”

Liu Song asked, “Was she driving that fast?”

Li Xi said, “Nah, not really. But the rain was brutal. I was terrified.”

Even as she said it, Li Xi’s tone stayed casual, like she hadn’t been fazed at all.

She glanced at the staircase where Yan Muyu had disappeared. “In a rush to get home to your girl?”

【She really went there!】

【Lmao, I love scenes with this many women!】

【Woo, our Xi’er and Liu’er sharing the frame… bliss!】

Li Xi had shouted it loud enough for everyone to hear, the perfect picture of doing it on purpose.

Yan Muyu had heard, of course. The camera on the stairs caught her expression—no embarrassment like people expected.

Strands of rain-soaked bangs clung wetly to her forehead. Yan Muyu’s face held an inscrutable shadow.

But her steps were light and quick. Her shoes tapped against the wooden boards in rhythm with the rustling plastic bag of candy. Somehow, it made her seem like she was in a good mood.

【Didn’t Qiu Chao buy that same candy back when they were making the fish lamps?】

【I just checked the replay—yep.】

【Wasn’t the candy vendor uncle not selling in the rain?】

【Hahaha, some of y’all must’ve missed the shot—Yan Muyu straight-up knocked on his door to buy it.】

【MVP: Li Xi’s eye-roll, lmao.】

Qiu Chao was still chatting with Qiu Yuan. The room’s windows were shut, but the rain pattered steadily against the glass.

Deep in sharing her secret crush confessions, Qiu Chao didn’t notice someone coming upstairs—or the door opening.

Yan Muyu had overheard Qiu Chao’s voice even before pushing the door open.

Everyone had their multifaceted personalities. From what Yan Muyu knew of Qiu Chao, she kept professional relationships with colleagues at arm’s length—neither too warm nor too cold.

~~~

Back when they attended banquets or fashion shows together, Yan Muyu would ask out of curiosity if her relationship with so-and-so was really that bad. Qiu Chao always said no.

Whenever Yan Muyu was home, Qiu Chao wouldn’t even change out of her dress right away. The nanny van would pull right up to the Yan Family estate without a care.

The female star would hike up her skirt hem and dash toward Yan Muyu waiting at the door. Yan Muyu dressed casually in slippers, leaning crookedly against the frame.

Back then, Yan Muyu heaped praise on Qiu Chao without restraint. She often thought Qiu Chao’s stylist was no good—a comment that drew plenty of eye-rolls.

Qiu Chao preferred poofy skirts over ones that hugged her curves.

No one on her team back then had noticed that quirk—except Yan Muyu.

Yan Muyu, waiting at the door, went inside with Qiu Chao. As the staff swarmed to remove her styling, she lounged and asked lazily about the evening’s event.

It was all hit-or-miss chatter. Qiu Chao barely paid attention to anyone else. Instead, she asked what Yan Muyu had eaten for dinner, admitting she was starving.

When Yan Muyu glanced at the assistant, Qiu Chao quickly added that she wanted to eat with her.

Yan Muyu would go, “Oh?” Then grin. “I just stuffed myself silly.”

Qiu Chao would purse her lips. “Fine.”

Yan Muyu teased, “Kidding. What do you want?”

Qiu Chao said, “I want to cook it myself.”

Yan Muyu laughed. “You’ve got way too much energy. Keep this up, and the kitchen auntie will be out of a job.”

She burst out laughing again.

In the end, Qiu Chao just nibbled a little—female stars had to watch their figures.

Yan Muyu chugged soda late into the night, gossiping about industry drama. She even pulled up interview clips about Qiu Chao right in front of her.

Qiu Chao got so annoyed she shoved her. Yan Muyu whined in complaint.

The Qiu Chao on the screen was nothing like the one beside her.

The Qiu Chao behind this door was nothing like the one in the live stream.

Yan Muyu had almost forgotten that Qiu Chao could talk like this.

Only one person could draw that tone out of her—

Qiu Yuan.

Yan Muyu had never met Qiu Yuan.

All her impressions of the younger sister came from Qiu Chao.

The scraps came from the addendums in Yan Kai’s investigation on Qiu Chao.

Qiu Yuan’s fate had been pretty tragic: adopted, then abandoned again. A child made insecure by her looks.

But she had Qiu Chao. That sister was invincible for her sake—a stroke of luck that even made Yan Muyu feel Qiu Yuan had something going for her.

It also made Yan Muyu feel even more… toward Qiu Chao.

In a family with more than one kid, the older one always had it tougher.

Burdens and duties melted together. When the bitterness peaked, it bred the illusion that it was sweet, too.

Was that why Qiu Chao loved this candy—the kind that got sweeter with every bite but left your throat clogged soon after?

Qiu Chao said, “I was never that into this industry to begin with, you know.”

Whatever was said on the other end made her laugh. “Yeah, my first love was her, too. I was obsessed. If not for her, I never would’ve gotten into it.”

Yan Muyu stood outside the door for a long time—so long that viewers checking the upstairs live feed thought it had glitched.

If not for the little cat ambling slowly along the railing, they really would’ve suspected a tech issue.

【What’s Yan Muyu doing??】

【Eavesdropping?? Qiu Chao’s supposed to be sleeping in there.】

【Yan Muyu, you’re actually listening at the door??】

【Uh… that’s not quite how the idiom goes.】

【Qiu Chao’s awake? Then who’s she with in there…】

【Some of y’all are way too thirsty.】

【What? I meant on the phone! You guys are toxic.】

【Gonna lock you all up later.】

Yan Muyu had lost count of how many times she’d heard the word “first love.”

Most people had one. Shen Tianqing’s was the late Shi Xu.

Lin Chi’s was some rotten senior she’d dated. Qiu Siyuan’s—well, Yan Muyu chalked that up to suspension bridge effect: her sister who charged selflessly into the blaze.

Qiu Chao’s first love struck Yan Muyu as some hazy notion.

Distant, yet eternally vivid in her memory. It pulled Qiu Chao right back to her teenage years, her voice softening with bubbly excitement.

It didn’t match her age now—like she was still in the thick of that romance.

Qiu Chao continued, “She was just such a good person. Yuan-yuan, you have no idea—I thought I was done for back then. I was plotting ways to off myself, drafting apologies to you and all that. A whole mess of last words. Hilarious, right?”

Qiu Chao added, “But she just swoops in like it’s nothing, grabs me by the arm. Wow, you should’ve seen her hands—gorgeous…”

Yan Muyu couldn’t take it anymore. She shoved the door open with a loud bang.

Qiu Chao jumped. So did Qiu Yuan on the other end of the line.

The newcomer was tall with long legs, her hair a little damp and pant legs a bit muddy. But nothing could dampen Qiu Chao’s fondness for her.

In an instant, the image merged with the Yan Muyu from her memories, and Qiu Chao suddenly grew tense.

She didn’t even notice her own slight stutter. “You… how did you just suddenly…”

“You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry to disturb you,” Yan Muyu said.

She closed the door behind her, as if shutting out the audience lurking just beyond the cameras.

The barrage exploded with comments: [Let me in!][Let me see!][The production team’s abusing their power for personal gain!]…

Yan Muyu set the large plastic bag bulging with malt candy on the bedside table and switched on the bedside lamp. The dimness in the cramped room lifted a little.

It was enough for her to make out the lingering delight on Qiu Chao’s face.

“How’s your body feeling?” Yan Muyu asked.

Qiu Chao, who had been chatting so animatedly moments before, seemed utterly stunned.

She could scarcely describe the sensation—like the figure from her painting stepping into reality, or like wresting her beloved away from someone else after untold effort.

Here in this unfamiliar mountain village, on this unfamiliar rainy day, in this unfamiliar room, she could spend a lifetime with Yan Muyu.

“I’m feeling better,” Qiu Chao said.

Yan Muyu glanced at Qiu Chao’s phone, abandoned on the bed. The video call was still connected; the girl on the other end caught sight of Yan Muyu’s gaze and ended it in a flash, leaving only a telltale beep.

It was Qiu Yuan, as expected.

Didn’t Qiu Chao have any friends? All these years, just work—never bored?