Chapter 13: Turnback Grass

After that day, Qiu Chao never showed up at Yan Muyu’s suite looking for her again.

Words like “gracing us with your presence” and “meal reimbursement” had become the two things Yan Muyu hated most.

But with A World Starting Anew drawing to a close, she was swamped these days—utterly frazzled, crashing in her office for several nights straight. She had no time to puzzle out the real reason behind Qiu Chao’s blatant seduction.

Not that she wanted to.

Honed by years of indulgence in every vice under the sun, Yan Muyu’s instincts screamed danger. Some people’s feelings were best left untouched; getting tangled up could drag all the old baggage back to the surface. A clean break was ideal—mutual destruction was a fool’s game.

Worst of all was the fear of someone holding death over her head.

She never wanted to stand over another ex-lover’s grave.

The mere mention earned her a scolding from Shen Tianqing for being overly dramatic.

Truth be told, the two of them were much the same. Yan Muyu knew full well that the little widow was just jealous—of the fact that Yan Muyu had never even properly gotten together with the woman her friend had thought of as a sister-in-law.

That one had always treated Shen Tianqing like a kid, even when she was dolled up to the nines, all seductive wiles on display. Shi Xu had never laid eyes on her.

So Yan Muyu couldn’t be bothered to argue with Shen Tianqing over it.

~~~

Xing Wen never imagined that taking over an entertainment company would grind Yan Muyu down like this.

By the day of the finale photoshoot, Yan Muyu looked much thinner than when they’d first met.

Xing Wen scrolled through the selfie she’d snapped back then and couldn’t help sighing over how differently life treated people.

Overwork only made Yan Muyu slim down; it just piled the pounds on her.

The acting variety show’s grand champion was a shocking upset, but the ratings remained stellar.

After it wrapped, Yan Muyu had her staff personally deliver invitations to the wrap party—digital and print copies both—to everyone involved. The venue was the Yan Hotel.

Qiu Chao was on the list.

Lou Haiyan had drawn up the guest list, and Xing Wen had been there when she showed it to Yan Muyu for approval.

Sprawled across the sofa in the headquarters office, Yan Muyu sported a full-on pudding-bowl dye job on her head, the two-tone look yet to be fixed. Her sly vibe made it impossible to buy her as the upstanding type.

“How come Qiu Chao’s on here?” Yan Muyu asked.

President Yan’s chief secretary, the ever-gorgeous Miss Lou, was still the office heartbeat.

Lou Haiyan might not have known it, but Xing Wen was aware plenty of folks speculated Yan Muyu would go after the “grass right under her nose.” She’d shot down the rumors plenty of times. Even desperate, Young Boss Yan wouldn’t touch Secretary Lou.

Secretary Lou was far too straitlaced—hardly Young Boss Yan’s type.

And she probably had no interest in becoming one, either.

“Miss Qiu Chao is a special guest,” Lou Haiyan replied. “Why wouldn’t she be on the list?”

“Shen Tianqing and her precious little goldfinch aren’t coming,” Yan Muyu shot back. “Can’t Qiu Chao sit this one out too?”

She wasn’t one for these schmoozefests either, but she had no choice. She even had to play nice.

Even with her natural social butterfly charm, it wore on her.

She spun her swivel chair a full turn, long legs dangling as her hand propped on the desk. Tilting her head up to meet Lou Haiyan’s gaze, she asked, “So, can I skip it?”

Dressed sharp in her business suit, Lou Haiyan desperately wanted to roll her eyes but held back, offering a perfectly professional smile instead. “You must attend.”

Yan Muyu sighed. “And after the party’s over, can I take a couple days off?”

She’d slimmed down noticeably, but hadn’t gone gaunt—just griping about muscle she’d finally built up vanishing or her already modest chest flattening out further.

Xing Wen was left speechless, wondering if she harbored stereotypes about this crowd.

Or maybe about tops—assuming they all preferred flat chests.

So you go for curves to compensate for your own build?

Lou Haiyan handed Yan Muyu the tablet with her schedule. “You can rest for two days. Day three has a meeting for the new variety show. The other departments are prepped, and with promo wrapping up, we could air as early as day four if all goes smoothly.”

Yan Muyu let out an “oh.” “Are you people even human? How was I supposed to know we were airing on day four? Am I a mule or a donkey—what kind of output is that?”

Her voice had a distinctive timbre, level whether complaining or pleased. Like an emotionless AI, yet with a crisp tone that could pierce straight to the soul.

“Why not an ox?” Lou Haiyan countered.

“You’re calling me a cow,” Yan Muyu said.

Xing Wen: …

Lou Haiyan looked exasperated too. In her time at Yan Corporation, she’d never encountered a boss quite like Yan Muyu.

None of the veterans were like this either.

Her so-called worldly experience felt useless.

Taking a deep breath, Lou Haiyan said, “Young Boss Yan, let’s be serious.”

Eyes shut, Yan Muyu started swiveling the chair again. Xing Wen had no doubt that without company, she’d have propped her feet on the desk.

With the show ending right before summer break, the company was pushing to go live during the holiday. Yan Muyu had begged off filming in pastoral summer heat—”You want me to die of heatstroke?”—but got shot down every time.

Here she was in the over-chilled office, bundled in an open jacket.

Legs swinging, her cropped tank top barely hit her waist, exposing skin white as snow. The navel piercing caught the eye; Xing Wen knew she shouldn’t stare but sneaked a glance anyway.

Eyes straight ahead, Lou Haiyan said, “I’ll send a car for you at six this afternoon. Call me when it’s over.”

No one had ever managed Yan Muyu like this before. Spoiled loose, she still chafed after months.

With a helpless hum, she cracked one eye at Lou Haiyan. “Tonight I’m hitting the clubs after—don’t babysit me.”

“What about me?” Xing Wen piped up.

“Watch the kid for me,” Yan Muyu said. “Tianxing wants to crash at my suite and play. Keep her occupied.”

Yan Kai’s condition hadn’t improved, and Yan Tianxing’s bond with her own father was lukewarm at best—she clung to Yan Muyu.

But adults had adult needs and worlds; kid duty was a drag.

Yan Muyu added, “Prep a gift too—High-Mountain Tea, the priciest kind.”

Her tone softened, but lips pursed, the casual air vanished into something crisp and cool.

She shut her eyes. Bare-faced, her skin held up well—no sign she was past thirty; she looked like a student.

“Book a restaurant?” Lou Haiyan asked.

“Sister Zhen Shu’s vegetarian,” Yan Muyu replied. “Find somewhere serene.”

Xing Wen marveled that Lou Haiyan didn’t bat an eye, perfectly in sync with Yan Muyu’s train of thought.

With that, Yan Muyu shooed them out, claiming she needed a nap.

Xing Wen followed Lou Haiyan from the office. “If Young Boss Yan hits the clubs after the party,” Lou Haiyan told her, “tail her.”

Xing Wen yelped.

Lou Haiyan recalled Yan Muyu’s tabloid exploits. True, work had kept her too buried to play around lately, but relaxation could mean headlines.

Even at familiar spots.

“Don’t let President Yan spend the night out,” Lou Haiyan added.

“That’s tough, Secretary Lou,” Xing Wen said.

Lou Haiyan sighed. “Do your best.”

Her thoughts drifted to Qiu Chao. “Miss Qiu Chao hasn’t been bothering Young Boss Yan lately?”

Xing Wen nodded. “Company lined up new gigs for her, I hear. Friend said she flew to H City for a show.”

Lou Haiyan’s head throbbed thinking of Yan Muyu’s new variety project—even outside her wheelhouse, she heard the production team gripe about headaches nonstop. The director crew was top-notch, though; they’d muddle through.

And the terms Qiu Chao demanded…

Young Boss Yan wasn’t even an actress. With these two, things were already so odd—wouldn’t sparks fly?

~~~

That evening at the wrap party, Yan Muyu was a far cry from the drowsy mess of the afternoon.

Tailing her the whole time, Xing Wen half-thought she was a club hostess, the kind paid to charm rich ladies.

The industry whispers bore it out.

Must be the hair and face.

Yan Muyu could talk to anyone, big shot or not.

Even the eliminated contestants from A World Starting Anew were invited, and from afar, she looked deep in convivial chat with one and all.

Qiu Chao arrived late, straight off a flight—just a blind pig could see who she was here for.

Xia Yuanyuan felt dead on her feet.

Since re-signing with Whale Entertainment, Qiu Chao still enjoyed high autonomy. With her manager Mai Chen laid up in the hospital, it hadn’t slowed her—work poured in online, like paying back favors.

Guest spots on outdoor shows, auction galas, that sort.

Xia Yuanyuan figured: Sister Mai’s just jealous—jealous President Yan’s muscling in on her turf! But since Yan’s the boss, she dumps it on our Qiu Jie.

Oddly, Qiu Chao hadn’t hounded Yan Muyu since that day.

Yet her urgency now made it clear: she missed Yan Muyu badly.

In Xia Yuanyuan’s eyes, Qiu Chao was always the glamorous, mature beauty—poised in every way.

Career setbacks never broke her; she always bounced back from rock bottom.

But when it came to feelings for Yan Muyu, that poise cracked.

From the airport ride to the party, she gave off teenage-crush vibes—rushing a thousand miles, yet hanging back, watching Yan Muyu glad-hand from afar.

Now a crowd ringed Qiu Chao, former special guests and industry vets.

One asked, “Heard you’re doing a variety show with Young Boss Yan next?”

Qiu Chao nodded.

The other person was quite curious. “I thought you didn’t like this kind of lifestyle variety show.”

Qiu Chao smiled.

Even though she had rushed over, she showed no signs of travel fatigue. The velvet red gown clung perfectly to her figure, and the necklace around her neck made her slender throat look all the more flawless.

“I follow the company’s arrangements.”

The other person went on. “Even Young Boss Yan herself is joining a variety show. She must really be going all out.”

Qiu Chao smiled. “Just treat it like a game.”

Her gaze drifted, however, to Yan Muyu sitting diagonally across from her. Yan Muyu was chatting with a girl in a white dress.

Qiu Chao turned to the senior beside her. “Is that girl one of the trainees too?”

She wasn’t all that familiar with the domestic TV drama scene, so her question came with a light laugh.

The senior gave an “oh.” “That’s Sun Sitiao, an artist from Teng Huang New Star. She got eliminated earlier.”

Teng Huang New Star.

Qiu Chao immediately thought of someone else.

Meanwhile, Yan Muyu’s mouth twitched as she watched Sun Sitiao chug two glasses of red wine one after another. Is this a roadside stall or what?

Sun Sitiao was way younger than her, so Yan Muyu couldn’t help seeing her the same way she saw Yan Tianxing—like a kid sister.

Sun Sitiao had been the one to come over and toast her first, but after downing the drinks, she felt stuffed and let out a little burp.

Yan Muyu took a deep breath. Is this the second princess of Teng Huang?

Or maybe it’s just idols switching careers. Idols don’t really have any standout qualities anyway—nothing special about them.

Sun Sitiao’s hair was all in braids today, decked out with so many accessories it made your head spin.

She took a deep breath and called out “Young Boss Yan” with the resolve of someone facing death unflinchingly.

Yan Muyu glanced at her phone with one hand while texting a friend that she’d swing by later to hang out.

Tonight wasn’t some masked dance party, so she sure as hell wasn’t going to repeat that mistake.

Yan Muyu said, “If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out.”

Sun Sitiao stammered, “I… I…”

Yan Muyu raised an eyebrow. “You drunk already?”

The girl was the same age as Meng Heng, but somehow Yan Muyu always saw Meng Heng as being from an older generation than Sun Sitiao.

Sun Sitiao took a deep breath. “Do you have time later?”

Yan Muyu lifted her eyelids. “I’m not interested in you.”

Sun Sitiao shot back, “I’m not interested in you either.”

Yan Muyu asked, “Then what do you want?”

Sun Sitiao said, “Sister Xuan said she’ll be waiting for you at Devotion Bar.”

Devotion Bar was a spot owned by one of Yan Muyu’s friends.

The crowd there was mostly industry folks, and everyone knew the rules—no photos.

The privacy was excellent, the events were always top-notch, and you’d often spot familiar faces from the scene.

Yan Muyu set down her wineglass and gave Sun Sitiao a look.

Sun Sitiao had always come off as a bit of a ditz, and the internet agreed. God knows what Shen Tianqing had ever seen in this airhead—nothing like Shi Xu, who’d been hopelessly smitten.

Yan Muyu’s sudden silence probably made Sun Sitiao squirm. She pursed her lips. “Uh, that’s all. I was just passing on the message from Sister Xuan.”

Teng Huang New Star was way bigger than Whale Entertainment, but it was an idol agency through and through—mostly talent show grads.

Sun Sitiao, mockingly dubbed the “second princess,” had come up through a girl group.

The real “big princess” was the boss’s daughter, Xuan Zhelu. Her skills were still the gold standard for domestic girl groups. Even after switching to dramas, no one could find fault with her work.

She had zero rumors with any guys. The only gossip that stuck was the one with Yan Muyu—though neither had ever confirmed it, and they both just called each other friends.

Sun Sitiao had never pried for details. She’d always figured Xuan Zhelu was drop-dead gorgeous, total top energy.

But now Whale’s Young Boss Yan was standing right in front of her. Gone was the easygoing vibe from earlier; instead, Sun Sitiao felt a subtle pressure.

Yan Muyu’s fingers were still wrapped around the stem of her highball glass, and Sun Sitiao found it hard to look away from her hand.

She hadn’t interacted much with Yan Muyu during the variety show’s run, but up close… this Young Boss Yan really was…

Something else. Charismatic as hell.

Yan Muyu sighed. “You’re not curious why she didn’t just tell me herself?”

Sun Sitiao blinked. “Huh? Why?”

Yan Muyu flashed her a smile. “You really that dense? Because I blocked her on every platform.”

Sun Sitiao: “Why?”

Yan Muyu: “I don’t eat turnback grass.”