Chapter 23: A Gentle Sway

Xing Yue is acting so strange.

Bu Yao was obedient and didn’t send any more WeChat messages to disturb Xing Yue at work. Yet Xing Yue found herself distracted the entire night.

If the station didn’t have air conditioning, she would have sweated through her clothes from the heat.

Her mind kept drifting back to the day she found Bu Yao’s shed skin. It was Bu Yao’s first molt after reaching adulthood—thin as a cicada’s wing, so delicate she feared it would crumble in her hands. Soft as pure silk, just seeing it was enough to imagine the pampered, delicate little Fire Snake it had come from.

Her skin must be as white and smooth as congealed fat to nurture such a perfect shed.

After Xing Yue finished her work and was packing her things, Qiao Rui arrived. She called everyone else out of the studio and handed Xing Yue a document.

“The contract between the company and New Shadow Entertainment. Take a look, sign it. There’s a show starting recording in two months. The schedule’s a bit tight, so you need to prepare.”

As if she could already predict Xing Yue’s reaction to the contract, Qiao Rui pulled out a chair and sat across from her, ready for a long discussion.

New Shadow Entertainment was one of the Bu family’s businesses. Among their many ventures, it was just one that could be considered somewhat notable. The Bu family’s most profitable industries far exceeded anything entertainment could generate.

Xing Yue read through the contents. By the first page, her eyes were already clouded with gloom. Though her face remained cold as ice, she didn’t explode. She flipped through page by page until she finished the very last word on the last page.

“The company really wants me to participate in this kind of show?” She took off her glasses, her eyes strained with fatigue, and lifted her head to look directly at her manager of many years. “Sister Qiao, I know the big trend right now is variety shows grabbing attention, but does the company not consider my type? I’m a cover singer, entering a competitive variety show?”

She’d assumed the company would arrange a singer competition—something music-based like a talent showdown. She hadn’t expected this: dancing, acting out scripts, cameras tailing you in the practice room, all kinds of marketing.

The contestants were practically all industry veterans—people who’d been famous and faded. Not a single complete newcomer. Xing Yue was the only internet cover artist. Everyone else had acted in hit dramas, had original songs that topped charts, or were solo idols from disbanded groups.

This kind of show was built on nostalgia. Xing Yue had no original works. If she competed, the audience would mock her. This was clearly pulling strings.

Qiao Rui knew Xing Yue would object. It was expected, and perfectly reasonable.

She interlaced her fingers and rested her chin on them, speaking earnestly, “Madam Bu’s intention is that if you were younger, custom-making an idol survival show for you wouldn’t be a problem. But you’re at this age now; this is the only way to generate buzz. For singing competitions, you have no original works, no real recognition. But joining this variety show is completely different—a bunch of big names propping you up. How could the hype not explode?”

It was the same principle as an internet celebrity starring in a Hollywood blockbuster. Netizens would immediately notice the newcomer wedged among all the big shots. Whether they got trashed or mocked, negative fame was still fame. The real fear was no one discussing you at all, making zero splash.

Seeing Xing Yue’s dark expression, Qiao Rui tried to persuade her. “Anyway, the outcome is guaranteed: you win. Even if every viewer in the country sees you’re living off a rich woman, so what? They’d kill for that chance and can’t even get it.”

There’s money to be made. Are you going to make it or not? Qiao Rui knew what was eating at Xing Yue. Xing Yue’s singing skills were genuinely outstanding; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been an online sensation for so many years.

But in a show with this kind of unequal background, even if Xing Yue had the talent to back it up, she was destined to be mocked. The moment she appeared on screen, people would cry foul play.

She didn’t know the full history between Xing Yue and Madam Bu, but she had heard that Xing Yue and the Eldest Miss had an unusual relationship. If so, Madam Bu was truly ruthless, messing with her daughter’s woman like this.

She placed a pen on the table, urging, “Sign it. There are two months left. The company has already found dance instructors for you. Even though the first place is preordained, you still need to back it up with skill. Don’t slack too much.”

Xing Yue’s grip on the contract corner creased the paper, her thumb pressing until it ached dully.

Madam Bu could have easily picked a batch of internet singers like Xing Yue to give the show more authenticity. Instead, she’d arranged it this way, deliberately making Xing Yue a laughingstock. Wasn’t being humiliated at the Bu Residence enough? She had to make Xing Yue lose face in front of the entire nation.

Perhaps the bitterness was too much to bear; Xing Yue’s lips turned pale. She felt as if she’d been transported back to that charity gala ten years ago. No one had told her what kind of people would be attending, what kind of charity this was.

She was wedged among elites from business and politics, clueless about their academic discussions and business exchanges, unable to answer a single question. Madam Bu had been watching her from the crowd. Just like everyone else, those up-and-down glances were filled with lofty contempt and arrogance.

Madam Bu had never truly accepted Xing Yue, yet doted on Bu Yao beyond reason, indulging her every whim. So she did this: on one hand supporting Bu Yao’s marriage to Xing Yue, on the other hand humiliating Xing Yue. She wanted to brand into Xing Yue’s very bones, every moment of every day, the fact that she had married above her station into the Bu family.

The blank signature line finally bore those two characters. The strokes carried nothing but exhaustion and powerlessness.

Qiao Rui took the contract and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d really been afraid Xing Yue would refuse and this cash cow would slip away. She offered some token comfort: “Don’t worry, the company will arrange everything well for you. You have three days off. But after the break, it’s straight to grueling training. Get some good rest.”

Xing Yue was the only one left at the station. She buried her face in her hands, the rims of her eyes stinging. She just sat there, maintaining that posture, for a very, very long time.

Everyone from the company had left. The light in Xing Yue’s office was still on. She lifted her head, put her glasses back on, expressionless.

Suddenly, the door pushed open. Bu Yao, having waited far too long for Xing Yue to come home, had found her way to the company. She was holding a box.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be overtime? Why are you the only one here?” Bu Yao asked, placing the box on the desk and starting to open it.

Her tail must have been put away not long before; on her plain, fair cheeks, faint traces of snake scales were still visible.

Xing Yue took a steadying breath. Her frozen iceberg of an expression abruptly melted. She pulled Bu Yao onto her lap in one motion. “Just about to head home. What did you buy?”

She tried her best to be gentle with Bu Yao, but even the forced curve of her lips was strained.

Bu Yao jumped in surprise, instinctively starting to get off Xing Yue’s lap. What was up with Xing Yue… acting like this?

Back when they were married, they’d often argued. Aside from in bed, there was barely any intimacy. Now, out of nowhere, Xing Yue was hugging her onto her lap. Her eyes widened in shock, then her cheeks slowly flushed crimson.

Xing Yue’s mood lifted slightly, amused by her reaction, and she focused her attention on the box.

Bu Yao had bought Xing Yue a new phone. She looked at Xing Yue sheepishly, unsure if Xing Yue would refuse it. “Use this one. Put the old one away.”

She wasn’t asking Xing Yue to throw it away, just to keep it safe, and use the new one she’d bought.

Before Xing Yue could reply, she added, “Is that okay?”

Seeing this cautious little expression, Xing Yue pulled Bu Yao close and handed her the phone.

Bu Yao’s face burned. Her happiness was visible to the naked eye. But Xing Yue’s silence made her hard to read; she couldn’t tell if Xing Yue was truly willing or not.

She used the SIM ejector tool to take the card out of the old phone and put it into the new one.

She glanced sideways at Xing Yue, then used her own phone to send two photos via Bluetooth—pictures she’d just taken today at the camellia garden. One, with the tail curled to the left, was set as the lock screen wallpaper.

She glanced at Xing Yue again. Seeing no refusal, she took the other picture—the tail slightly to the right this time—and set it as the home screen.

This way, unlocking the phone connected the lock screen and home screen like a little animation: the snake tail gently swaying.

Bu Yao was very satisfied with her masterpiece. It was then that Xing Yue, who had been silent all along, spoke.

“I have three days off. Do you want to spend them with me?”

Bu Yao remembered what Xing Yue had said on the phone about wanting to nibble her little tail. She buried her face in the curve of Xing Yue’s neck, nodded, and her snake tongue gently flickered, licking Xing Yue’s collarbone.

“After the break, I’ll be a bit busy,” Xing Yue took hold of Bu Yao’s wrist, encircling it with her thumb and forefinger in an intimate gesture. “The show your family’s New Shadow Entertainment is sending me to—it won’t be easy. I need to give it my absolute all. Can’t waste the opportunity your mother gave me.”

Hearing this, Bu Yao sat up straight. “Will you be very tired?”

She didn’t want Xing Yue to be that tired.

Xing Yue looked at Bu Yao, then averted her gaze in less than two seconds. She looked at the tip of Bu Yao’s nose, at her lips—everywhere but Bu Yao’s eyes.

Her gaze was deep and unfathomable. She held Bu Yao’s hand, lifting it to nuzzle her own cheek. “Being tired is inevitable. But your company is offering a huge sum. To earn that much money, of course you have to put in proportional effort. Don’t worry about me being tired.”

Hearing Xing Yue chat so softly, Bu Yao felt like she was actually part of Xing Yue’s life.

“Your mother might not pay much attention to the entertainment industry,” Xing Yue kneaded the small hand resting in her palm, playing with the rosy fingertips. “Everyone sharing the stage with me is a major league player. The pressure’s not just average.”

Bu Yao caught the worry in Xing Yue’s words. She encouraged her: “Don’t be nervous. I’ll have people in the company invite a few minor celebrities, some small-time influencers to join the show.”

With all sorts of opponents, she wouldn’t be starting from the very bottom. Then Xing Yue wouldn’t be under so much pressure, right?

Xing Yue hugged Bu Yao. Whether from sheer exhaustion or something else, she buried her entire face deep into Bu Yao’s embrace, breathing evenly. She teased, “The Eldest Miss is so considerate.”

This kind of praise made Bu Yao blush. Just like her mother said, everyone likes outstanding, exceptional people, gentle and thoughtful ones.

If Xing Yue praised her like this, it meant Xing Yue liked her a little bit more.

The snake tail, which had been put away not long before, gradually emerged, draping down. The moment it touched Xing Yue, it coiled upwards with uncontrollable excitement. The scales along its entire length rippled and tightened.