Chapter 69: A Warm Invitation Part 2

Today, Qiu Siyuan had switched up the live stream format to something more interactive.

As a result, there was no full panoramic view of the room. Qiu Chao could sit off to the side, spacing out without a care.

The storm had passed, and stars now dotted the sky.

Qiu Chao fiddled with her phone, idly scrolling through Weibo out of boredom.

Though Mai Chen was still pretty annoyed with Yan Muyu, she sent over some news about her anyway.

More precisely, about the Yan Family.

Yan Muyu was giving an interview—one or two minutes long. The woman sitting beside her looked a bit older but not truly aged, and at first glance, she bore a resemblance to Yan Muyu.

Their temperaments, however, were worlds apart.

Mai Chen: These wealthy families are always so dramatic.

Qiu Chao: Their family is actually on the smaller side.

Mai Chen: Weren’t they done fighting it out already? Impressive stamina.

Qiu Chao: Which makes it perfect for me to marry into, right?

Mai Chen: Why do you sound like you’re planning to pop out heirs left and right? You and Yan Muyu won’t even have kids.

Qiu Chao: Yeah, such a shame. Otherwise, I could use a kid to seize power.

Mai Chen stared at that message from Qiu Chao on her phone screen for a long moment, speechless.

She could totally see Qiu Chao pulling something like that.

Thank goodness Yan Muyu was a woman.

Thank goodness Qiu Chao liked women. Otherwise, it would be terrifying.

Mai Chen: Looks like you’re bored without Yan Muyu around. You haven’t even shown your face on camera.

Qiu Chao: I’m on sick leave, technically.

Even as she said that, when Mai Chen tapped into the live stream, she could spot Qiu Chao in the background of Liu Song’s interactive feed—looking bored out of her mind, idly doing some embroidery.

Li Xi sat across from her, tweaking sheet music. The two of them perfectly illustrated what it meant to be total strangers.

Anyone could tell Qiu Chao seemed a bit wilted.

Mai Chen: Get some rest early, then.

Qiu Chao: I miss Yan Muyu so much.

Mai Chen: …

Mai Chen: Then message her yourself. What good does telling me do?

Mai Chen felt like she’d gone from unable to accept it to almost used to it. Maybe it was just that the Yan Muyu she’d seen in the streams lately wasn’t as bad as she’d imagined.

Qiu Chao: I don’t dare.

She felt like she’d gotten a response from Yan Muyu—small as it was—and now Qiu Chao was starting to hesitate.

Even fully head over heels, she still panicked with the fear that she’d love Yan Muyu even if her bones were ground to dust.

Mai Chen: Have you gone soft? Weren’t you always the one seeking her out before?

Mai Chen: Don’t know who was dropping all those hints on the show. What, did Yan Muyu figure out she’s your first love now?

Qiu Chao: Probably not. I told Qiu Siyuan not to say anything. A blockhead like Yan Muyu wouldn’t notice anyway.

Mai Chen: Who’s the real blockhead here?

She sighed. Even without calling Qiu Chao, just seeing her glued to her phone in the live stream background was enough for Mai Chen to sense her loneliness.

Qiu Chao wasn’t some acting prodigy. This industry did favor raw talent—some geniuses lit up the screen from their very first take.

Qiu Chao didn’t exactly love acting, but it was the best way she’d found to make a living and chase her ambitions.

Who said talent was only about innate skill, though? Stamina and relentless effort were talents too.

Too many people these days dismissed hard work as pointless and cheap.

Even Liu Song, the type heaven had blessed with gifts, showed her passion for the craft in the live variety show—never slacking on practice even when on air.

Ding Yingxue was the same.

Qiu Chao didn’t reply. She went back to what she’d been doing earlier.

Li Xi sat across from her, seemingly oblivious, while the live stream comments overflowed with dissatisfaction.

“These two aren’t interacting at all lololol.”

“Come on, even if it’s yuri vibes, not everyone catches your eye!”

“What is Qiu Chao even doing? New challenge?”

“I’m dying to know where she learned that. If it’s just for a role, she’s way too talented.”

Qiu Chao didn’t sit there long—Li Xi’s solo segment came up next.

She slipped away.

After the rain and the chill that followed, Qiu Chao sat in the courtyard gazing at the moon.

She mulled it over for ages before finally placing a voice call to Yan Muyu.

Before it even connected, it switched to video.

Back and forth a few times—no telling if it was for fun or if her longing had outgrown mere voices.

I’d survived years without seeing Yan Muyu.

And yet just one day apart, and my longing was this… overwhelming.

Finally, it connected.

Yan Muyu held her phone casually and asked what was up.

Qiu Chao stared at Yan Muyu on the screen. She could tell it was the hospital—probably a break room.

The Yan Family Hospital went for a high-end look; without the logo in the background, it barely resembled one.

Qiu Chao asked, “Have you eaten?”

Before connecting, she’d thought up a ton of questions.

Like, are you tired? How’s your brother?

But what came out was so mundane, so ordinary.

Yan Muyu said, “Yeah.”

No sooner had she spoken than a girl darted in from the side. “No, you didn’t! Little Aunt’s stomach hurt so bad earlier.”

It was Yan Tianxing, munching on snacks. Her voice came with the crunch of chips—bratty, like she was there to stir up trouble.

Yan Muyu snapped, “You’re such a blabbermouth.”

Yan Tianxing peeked at the woman on the phone and went, “Whoa, it’s that sister from before—the one in your room.”

To be honest, that comment landed a bit awkwardly.

But Yan Muyu already knew why Yan Tianxing phrased it that way.

Qiu Chao was a little puzzled.

She blinked, and though the pixels blurred slightly in the night light, it only softened her beauty into a hazy gentleness. It reached across the miles through her eyes, inexplicably soothing Yan Muyu.

Qiu Chao asked, “Stomachache? You didn’t skip meals all day, did you?”

Yan Muyu admitted, “Forgot.”

She leaned against the sofa, looking worn out indeed. She set the phone down casually on the table and accepted a cup of hot water from her assistant nearby.

Yan Muyu added, “About to eat now.”

Qiu Chao asked, “How’s your brother?”

Yan Muyu teased, “So you called to check on him? Hang on, I’ll pass the phone— you two can chat it up…”

Qiu Chao cut in, “You know full well I mean you.”

Yan Tianxing overheard and let out another “Whoa.”

Yan Muyu ruffled her hair roughly.

Yan Muyu asked, “That’s what you called to say?”

She truly looked like she had no appetite. In her little courtyard, Qiu Chao cradled her phone, eyes fixed on Yan Muyu, unable to look away.

She ached for the softness of Yan Muyu’s lips on hers, for the strength of her embrace—like it could pierce right through her.

Qiu Chao said, “Can’t I call just because?”

Propping her chin, she gazed at Yan Muyu, lashes fluttering—like the fleeting thoughts of her that had slipped into Yan Muyu’s day amid the chaos.

Yan Muyu hadn’t replied yet when Qiu Chao continued, “I really miss you.”

Yan Muyu said, “I left in the middle of the night.”

Before, Yan Muyu would have fired back with something sharp. But now, she found she couldn’t.

She didn’t even notice how her tone had softened, her usual sharpness melting away into deep fatigue—as if seeking pity from someone.

Yan Tianxing, beside her, crunched on chips and played games. She might not grasp the subtleties of deep emotions, but she could sense the shift in Yan Muyu’s mood.

Yan Muyu had taken calls around her before—girlfriends, friends, colleagues. They were easy enough to tell apart.

But even facing a girlfriend, the little aunt would never act like this.

The intimacy was the rare sort that even Yan Tianxing, as family, found surprising.

So the little aunt wasn’t quite invincible after all.

Qiu Chao said, “So I miss you very much.”

Her voice was calm, but even through the phone, Yan Muyu could sense the raw emotion in her eyes, unhidden and intense.

It was purer than the deliberate teasing of the past—almost like the expression Qiu Chao wore when speaking of her first love.

Yan Muyu instinctively wanted to pull away.

It was like the gut reaction before danger, an urge to run.

Yan Tianxing had been playing a game nearby, the crisp sounds cutting through the air. But she’d finished her drink and stepped out.

The lounge was left to Yan Muyu alone.

She nibbled on a couple bites of bread, then stood by the bed. Qiu Chao watched her slip on her headphones and smiled. “What, afraid your niece will overhear?”

Yan Muyu replied, “Yeah. Who knows what you’ll say.”

Qiu Chao asked, “When are you coming back?”

Yan Muyu said, “I’ll talk to my brother later and see.”

Qiu Chao pressed, “Once he’s awake, everything’s fine, right?”

She paused. “What, still think I had something to do with it?”

Yan Muyu shot back, “As if you could pull that off.”

Qiu Chao chuckled. “Your brother’s got plenty of schemes. He’s just overly cautious when it comes to feelings.”

She thought for a moment. “A man of his position—doesn’t that call for something more direct? Take what you want by force?”

Yan Muyu laughed dryly. “You watch too many movies. It’s not that simple. Too many entanglements, and you could lose everything.”

Qiu Chao tilted her head. “And you? No arranged marriage or business alliances in your future?”

Yan Muyu shrugged. “If the sky falls, my brother’s there to hold it up. I’m just along for the ride.”

Qiu Chao’s gaze softened. “You still look exhausted, though.”

Yan Muyu waved it off. “This is nothing.”

She sighed, a faint shadow of irritation lingering on her face. Qiu Chao watched, wishing she could reach through the screen and smooth away the crease between her brows.

Yan Muyu continued, “Aren’t you off streaming today? Why are you… “

She peered closer. “Sitting in the yard? Aren’t you worried about catching a chill?”

Qiu Chao smiled. “Because I’m thinking of you. I’m always burning up.”

Yan Muyu groaned. “Can’t you just talk normally for once?”

Qiu Chao’s expression grew serious. “I’m seriously missing you. Can’t you take me seriously?”

The misty playfulness faded from her eyes, replaced by a firm resolve—one that Yan Muyu couldn’t quite read and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Yan Muyu admitted, “This is hard for me to accept.”

She sighed again. “Qiu Chao, you know I never date anyone longer than four months.”

Qiu Chao leaned in, radiant with confidence, all traces of the timid girl who’d once fled in self-doubt swept away. “That’s because you haven’t dated me yet.”

Yan Muyu had no idea that back then, someone had run down a long street, tears in her eyes, burning with resentment.

That year, Qiu Chao had planted endless ambition in her heart.

She wanted so much—so many things. But most of all, she wanted Yan Muyu.

Her kisses, her embraces, every bit of her intimacy.

She wanted to tame this woman, until her eyes held nothing but Qiu Chao.

Yan Muyu warned, “You’ll regret it.”

Qiu Chao grinned, propping her chin on her hand as she gazed across the miles. “Let’s test that, then. Not just in bed—we’ve tried that already, haven’t we?”

She was utterly unfazed, her smile warm and unwavering.

Qiu Chao added firmly, “What I want has never been ‘just a try.’ I want to date you.”