Yan Muyu’s candid words made Sun Sitiao instinctively glance around, afraid someone might overhear.
After all, Xuan Zhelu had never officially announced her relationship.
Sun Sitiao’s furtive peeking only made her look more suspicious. Yan Muyu chuckled. “Just reply to her like that.”
Sun Sitiao let out an “oh.” Yan Muyu asked, “Where’s your assistant?”
Sun Sitiao replied, “In the other hall.”
Yan Muyu called over Xing Wen. “Take Miss Sun back. She can down five glasses of red wine in one go—impressive.”
Xing Wen: …
Sun Sitiao protested, “I’m fine. I can walk back myself.”
Yan Muyu seemed to understand her concern. “Meng Heng doesn’t come here. Didn’t you know she’s shooting a new drama?”
Sun Sitiao said, “I know!”
She seemed a bit flustered, her cheeks flushing pink. Yan Muyu smiled. “So go back and rest. I heard you’re starting a shoot soon too.”
Sun Sitiao blinked. “How did you know?”
Yan Muyu shrugged. “I just know.”
In the distance, Qiu Chao had been watching them the whole time. A senior colleague had left her side, only for a few others to come chat.
Noticing Qiu Chao’s gaze on Yan Muyu, they couldn’t help recalling the explosive rumors from recently.
Seeing Sun Sitiao talking with Yan Muyu, one remarked with a smile, “Young Boss Yan really knows how to charm the ladies in the industry.”
Qiu Chao turned her head. “Is that so?”
The other nodded. “Didn’t they say that Xuan Zhelu from Teng Huang New Star used to date Young Boss Yan?”
The hall’s lighting was bright enough that Qiu Chao’s profile looked exquisitely refined. The shimmering flecks on her face caught the light like stars, making her eyelashes flutter like sparks with every blink.
The industry was full of beauties, but few reached Qiu Chao’s level.
Beauty wasn’t rare—top-tier beauty was. It could launch someone to stardom overnight, with endless resources flowing in.
Without careful planning, though, it could lead to utter ruin.
Qiu Chao was the perfect example. Even with scandals dogging her, no one could touch her position now.
Qiu Chao asked, “Are they still together?”
The other shook her head. “Doesn’t look like it.”
Qiu Chao murmured an “oh.”
Yan Muyu had someone escort Sun Sitiao away. Soon after, the celebration banquet wrapped up. She urged Xing Wen to check on Yan Tianxing, then drove off alone.
Xing Wen lingered, about to call a cab back to the hotel, when a car pulled up beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Qiu Chao’s face.
Xing Wen’s eyes widened. “M-Miss Qiu Chao.”
Qiu Chao smiled. “Where did she go?”
Xing Wen faltered. “Ah…”
Qiu Chao pressed, “Which bar?”
Xia Yuanyuan, behind the wheel, was speechless. You look just like someone about to catch her cheating right now.
Xing Wen shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Qiu Chao raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Xing Wen insisted, “Really. It’s Young Boss Yan’s private schedule. She didn’t tell me.”
Qiu Chao didn’t press further. The car drove off.
For some reason, Xing Wen felt a chill down her spine. Qiu Chao was stunning, sure, but coldly so. She seemed approachable at first glance, but she had thorns—sharp ones that pricked deep.
Yet around Yan Muyu, those thorns softened.
Xing Wen inexplicably recalled that day when Qiu Chao had shown up at the suite looking for Yan Muyu, drenched through and wrapped in a bath towel as she emerged.
Water trailed across the floor in winding wet streaks. Yan Muyu had stood there coldly, impassively watching Qiu Chao leave in disarray.
Even after that humiliation, why cling to Young Boss Yan? She must really like her that much.
Even as one of Yan Muyu’s own people, Xing Wen had to admit Yan Muyu wasn’t great partner material.
Same-sex relationships weren’t as taboo as before, but marriage still wasn’t an option. The industry had a few out celebrities, but most kept it hidden for their careers—coming out was scarier than cheating, and it could cost you your job outright.
Qiu Chao had never been rumored to like women before, either.
After some thought, Xing Wen sent Yan Muyu a message:
Young Boss Yan, Miss Qiu Chao asked where you were.
Ten minutes later, Yan Muyu replied: Do you know where I am?
Xing Wen: No.
Yan Muyu: Mm.
Yan Muyu didn’t go to Devotion Bar. She headed to another familiar spot instead.
Her network was vast; she’d been to nearly every bar in S City, especially the lesbian ones.
Perhaps thinking about the live variety show taping in a few days soured her mood completely.
The bar’s owner, a former photographer and thus a colleague of sorts, grinned when he saw her. “The big shot graces us with her presence?”
Tonight was some event, the central area packed with writhing beauties and a “no men allowed” sign to keep things discreet.
Yan Muyu quipped, “Gotta squeeze in some fun while I can. You know me.”
She’d left her somewhat formal jacket in the car. Her white shirt bore a gold-embroidered oleander at the chest. The hem was tucked into tailored suit pants, secured by an intricate silver waist chain that accentuated her slim, elongated figure.
The owner was wiping glasses and glanced at her. “You look thinner.”
Yan Muyu checked her phone— a message from Lou Haiyan reminding her not to stay out overnight. She didn’t reply, instead saying, “Get me my usual.”
But Yan Muyu waited ages without a response from him. The basement level was getting rowdier instead.
She realized then that she was the only one at the bar—odd.
When she looked up again, the owner was nowhere in sight. Behind the bar stood someone with an improbably innocent face.
Xuan Zhelu’s hair shimmered purple under the dim lights, clashing with her recent mature pivot but evoking her girl-group days.
Half her hair was piled high, the other half cascading over her chest.
Her droplet earrings swayed as she tilted her head to regard Yan Muyu, threatening to tug her earlobe clean off.
Xuan Zhelu slid the drink forward. Yan Muyu noticed the raindrop tattoo sticker on her chest—positioned perfectly to shatter the innocence of her face with that plunging sweater.
Yan Muyu sighed and rubbed her face in despair, though she didn’t bolt. “What are you doing here?”
Xuan Zhelu’s heavy, girlish makeup and the low light made her unrecognizable to strangers.
She leaned in with a grin, and Yan Muyu spotted the kicker: the tattoo glowed fluorescent.
Yan Muyu turned away, refusing to look.
Xuan Zhelu asked, “Did Little Sun tell you?”
Yan Muyu said, “She did.”
Xuan Zhelu replied, “So I knew you wouldn’t hit Devotion. I came here to wait for you on purpose.”
Yan Muyu asked, “Something you need?”
Yan Muyu had trimmed her hair for the banquet, but it was still that awkward shoulder length—golden waves with uneven ends that matched her vibe perfectly: carefree, languid, untamable.
Xuan Zhelu said, “I want to sleep with you.”
Yan Muyu shot back, “I’m not for sale.”
Her rejection was swift, devoid of any flirtation. Just then, the downstairs DJ switched tracks.
An Italian remix, less pounding than the last.
Yan Muyu couldn’t sit still. She stood to leave, but Xuan Zhelu grabbed her hand.
Yan Muyu had beautiful hands. Even in the dim light, Xuan Zhelu clutched one with both of hers, the tremor evoking old memories.
She said, “One more thing.”
Yan Muyu tossed back the drink. “What?”
Xuan Zhelu declared, “I want to be the flying guest on your new variety show.”
Yan Muyu gave her a strange look. “Don’t you know what breaking up means?”
Xuan Zhelu countered, “But you parted amicably with all your exes. Why block me?”
Yan Muyu said, “Because you’re too damn noisy. We can’t be friends after, and you don’t need to be some sleazy online fling buddy either.”
Xuan Zhelu was twenty-seven—not young anymore—and the most successful from her original girl group.
Yan Muyu sipped her drink, her tone turning uncharacteristically earnest. “Can’t you be more discreet? If anyone spots you, your reputation’s done for.”
But Xuan Zhelu just giggled. “You won’t tell.”
Yan Muyu pressed, “What if I lose my phone? Or it gets stolen?”
She hadn’t even realized she wasn’t mad.
Xuan Zhelu had known Yan Muyu for years and never seen her truly angry.
Compared to the men who’d chased her in her youth or the flirty female directors from her group days, Yan Muyu was the most unique partner she’d ever had.
Even post-breakup, the aftertaste lingered, tempting her for more.
Xuan Zhelu wheedled, “You invited artists from my company. Why not me?”
Yan Muyu rolled her eyes. “No idea why not you? Figure it out.”
Her bluntness bordered on cruel, but Xuan Zhelu doubled down, clinging to her hand and coquettishly pleading as before, “Sis, the flying gues—”
“Young Boss Yan.”
A woman’s voice cut in. Xuan Zhelu whipped her head up to see a woman in a half-skirt approaching.
The newcomer’s gaze fixed on Yan Muyu.
The bar owner shrugged from the side. “She’s Young Boss Yan’s person.”
Xuan Zhelu snapped, “You have a new girl already?”
Her coquettish tone vanished; she didn’t notice her voice had cracked.
Yan Muyu, more annoyed than ever, demanded, “Secretary Lou, what are you doing here? Did you plant a tracker on me or something?”
Lou Haiyan replied, “Xing Wen said you spelled everything out for her, so I came myself.”
Yan Muyu frowned. “What are you doing here? I told you I wanted to rest.”
Lou Haiyan’s expression was cool. “Reuniting with your ex-girlfriend?”
Xuan Zhelu worked for Teng Huang New Star, and she had a new drama airing right now. When Lou Haiyan had arrived, she’d spotted paparazzi lurking outside, snapping photos of the actress.
After having her people chase them off, Lou Haiyan had come upstairs to find Yan Muyu.
Yan Muyu had no retort for that. She let out a sigh, stood up, and started walking away.
“Fine, can I go back to sleep now?”
“I’ll drive you back,” Lou Haiyan offered.
Yan Muyu shrugged. “Then let’s go.”
Xuan Zhelu opened her mouth as if to say something more, but Yan Muyu was already heading out. Lou Haiyan carried herself with all the poise of a perfect secretary, her smile polished and professional.
“Miss Xuan, for any work-related matters, please have your agent coordinate with our company. There were quite a few photographers outside this time trying to get shots of you.”
She seemed to pick up on the fact that Xuan Zhelu had slipped out without her manager, and her tone stayed gentle as she added, “We’ll bill your company for the expenses.”
Yan Muyu’s mood was utterly wrecked. She hadn’t gotten a proper rest in far too long, and even pushing open the back door left her feeling a little unsteady on her feet.
Oh—her car keys were still sitting on the table.
She’d just pulled out her phone to call Lou Haiyan when someone snatched it from her hand before she could even unlock the screen. In that instant, the heavy scent of roses enveloped her.
In the dim light, the perfume slammed into Yan Muyu like a wave, followed by the press of hot, wet lips. The other woman’s hand seized Yan Muyu’s and guided it straight to her own slender waist.
That touch. That slim waist. That scent.
Qiu Chao.
Yan Muyu moved to shove her away, but Qiu Chao stomped down hard on her foot.
The woman was wearing needle-thin stilettos, and the pain made Yan Muyu’s face twist, leaving her too stunned to speak.
A car pulled up right then, and Qiu Chao shoved her straight inside.
“Are you insane?” Yan Muyu gasped.
Xia Yuanyuan, behind the wheel, drew in a deep breath. She was half-terrified she’d end up the star of some true-crime documentary, half-thrilled by the sheer audacity of it all.
Qiu Chao’s stomp had been brutal, and Yan Muyu kept hissing through her teeth at the lingering ache.
But once she’d bundled Yan Muyu into the car, Qiu Chao collapsed right on top of her.
Her chest pressed flush against Yan Muyu’s. “Little Yan, feeling frisky again?”
Yan Muyu nearly laughed from sheer exasperation. “Who’s the frisky one here?”
Xia Yuanyuan slipped on her headphones, hit the gas toward the hotel, and pulled up her contacts to fire off a quick message to Lou Haiyan—
Lou Sis, Young Boss Yan’s riding back with our Sister Qiu.
Qiu Chao’s fingertip prodded Yan Muyu’s cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. “You, obviously.”
Yan Muyu shoved her off and scooted to the window, snapping irritably, “If you’re the one who’s frisky, keep it to yourself.”
She huffed out through her nose, her annoyance plain as day.
Qiu Chao slid closer anyway.
“Don’t lean on me,” Yan Muyu warned.
Undeterred, Qiu Chao looped her arms around Yan Muyu’s neck and let out a soft hum. “I heard Xuan Zhelu was upstairs?”
Yan Muyu blinked. “You know her?”
Qiu Chao nodded, pitching her voice into an exaggerated, syrupy purr. “Sis, mind if I crash with you tonight?”
Yan Muyu eyed her suspiciously. “Have you been stalking me?”
Qiu Chao chuckled. “Not quite.”
She showed no signs of getting off, clinging bonelessly to Yan Muyu like a limpet.
Qiu Chao let out a soft laugh. “I just don’t like the idea of someone else eating my food.”
