Yan Muyu had always assumed that, as the boss, her employees would at least show her some respect.
She never imagined that falling from producer to mere guest would leave her completely in the dark about the variety show’s itinerary. And ever since they landed, everything had been going wrong.
Even with the live stream switched off, Yan Muyu hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep.
The mountain road was relentlessly bumpy, with hairpin turns every dozen meters or so. If not for her seatbelt, she might have been rolling around the inside of the van like a loose marble.
The drive from S City to this little mountain village in a southern prefecture-level city had taken nearly the entire day.
The driver, a local hired by the production team, hadn’t said a word the whole time. The van was eerily quiet.
Yan Muyu’s head throbbed mercilessly, so she kept her eyes squeezed shut. Her fluffy sleep mask, like a poached egg, even pinned down her bangs. With every jolt of the road, her hair whipped back and forth. Qiu Chao even spotted the casual stud earring Yan Muyu had thrown on that morning clatter to the floor.
There were three cameras in the van, all powered down for now.
Outside the window stretched a cobalt-blue night sky. As they climbed from the foot of the mountain, the houses down below shrank into mere pinpricks of light.
The moon hung high above, amid fleeting glimpses of scrub and brush. Some people still roamed the darkness, headlamps strapped to their foreheads as they picked tea leaves.
Qiu Chao appeared to be gazing at the scenery, but her eyes were fixed on Yan Muyu.
With that sleep mask blocking Yan Muyu’s eyes, Qiu Chao could stare without restraint.
From the bridge of her nose to her chin, down to the undone collar of her shirt, and the hand draped idly over her body.
Yan Muyu was so pale—pale enough that Qiu Chao felt her own once-confident skin looked dull by comparison during their intimacies.
Those hands were too beautifully shaped, stirring something restless in Qiu Chao right then. She imagined those index and thumb fingers teasing at certain places on her own body.
Did she wear that same expression with others?
Aloof and above it all, never fully lost in the moment.
Yet she clearly craved Qiu Chao’s body, unlike that drunken night at twenty-two when she had lavished praise on her beauty.
Qiu Chao had thought their casual physical relationship would quench her thirst for a time. But she hadn’t realized Yan Muyu wasn’t pure spring water at all—she was hard liquor.
An addiction that clung to Qiu Chao’s every desire, no longer a vague phantom but an itch gnawing deep in her body, impossible to ignore.
Yan Muyu was already irritable from her sleepless night, and this day’s endless drive had worn through every last shred of her patience.
She had never endured real hardship growing up.
As a child, Yan Kai had shielded her. Even during the Yan family’s darkest days, the worst Yan Muyu faced was being sent by her brother to a boarding school on the outskirts of S City. The conditions were rough, sure.
That place technically belonged to S City, but decades ago, it had been a county seat in the neighboring district—little more than an urban village.
No luxury malls in sight, just a rundown department store left over from the eighties.
The gilded characters on the building had long been eroded by wind and rain. The “goods” radical in one character had lost its shell, turning the whole sign into something like “Hua Da Lou.”
Most of the shops inside had shuttered. It had boomed at the end of the nineties, though—plenty of flashy golden signs still lingered.
The place was notorious for ghost stories, cursed feng shui they said. Unexplained suicides plagued it, and with so many folks heading south for work, it had fallen quiet.
That made it a magnet for thrill-seeking middle schoolers.
Yan Muyu had spent the tail end of her sixteenth year and most of her seventeenth there.
Lin Chi had originally planned to introduce her to Shen Tianqing as a friend, but Shen Tianqing’s school was downtown, so it never happened.
Deep down, Yan Muyu and Shen Tianqing were cut from the same cloth—neither had ever known true want.
Good genes, decent brains. Their grades hovered in the middle of the pack. They weren’t academic stars, but they weren’t slackers either.
Everyone knew Shen Tianqing had a short fuse, though. Yan Muyu was her polar opposite.
She loved to laugh, and her smile melted away any standoffishness her beauty might suggest. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, perhaps, but steady and serene in a way that felt genuine, not cheap or overly welcoming. People flocked to her.
Gentle and considerate—that was the impression Yan Muyu left on everyone.
Shen Tianqing had never bought it.
In her eyes, Yan Muyu was just good at faking it. Not like the girlfriend of that sister Shen Tianqing had loved for so long.
The universal “sister-in-law.”
Her gentleness ran soul-deep, like nurturing spring rain turning into drifting catkins on the breeze. It haunted Shen Tianqing’s dreams, urging her to beg Yan Muyu for new finger toys modeled after Shi Xu.
When Shen Tianqing heard Yan Muyu was doing the show with Qiu Chao, she’d gloated for ages. She was sure Yan Muyu’s true colors would show.
That little widow had a vicious tongue—Yan Muyu saw nothing “sweet sis” about her.
Shen Tianqing had said, “Don’t go flying off the handle at Qiu Chao, only to punch cotton and end up just as pathetic as the rest—outmatched by your sister-in-law.”
Qiu Chao’s stare was so blatant that Yan Muyu felt goosebumps crawling over her skin, even through the sleep mask.
Another bend, then a steep uphill climb. The paved road gave way to unfinished gravel, and the tires ground over it. Yan Muyu swore she caught a whiff of burning clutch.
Qiu Chao was still watching her.
They splashed through a puddle, the van shuddering. Yan Muyu finally snapped.
She yanked off her sleep mask and shot Qiu Chao a glance. “Can you stop staring?”
Qiu Chao recoiled as if startled. No streetlights outside, no interior lights on—just the faint glow from the dashboard’s LCD screen, showing their route.
That dim light was enough for Yan Muyu to catch the look in Qiu Chao’s eyes: like moonlight shimmering on a river at night. Rippling, but not from any waves—subtle, almost oppressively intimate.
Qiu Chao asked, “You couldn’t sleep?”
Yan Muyu snorted. “On a road like this? If I could, it’d be a coma.”
She checked the in-van cameras—all off. The production team had messaged that the director was waiting at the cabin.
They must have figured the conditions here were too abysmal and sent the message to placate their boss—
Six minutes left on the drive.
Yan Muyu didn’t bother asking why Qiu Chao was staring. The answer was obvious.
Besides, there was the driver and Xia Yuanyuan riding shotgun in the assistant seat.
Xia Yuanyuan didn’t dare utter a word. All those online rumors were scams—whoever called Yan Muyu gentle had never seen Young Boss Yan without her smile. Terrifying.
A natural villain face, pure sleaze.
On a road this rough, even glancing at her phone felt blinding. Yan Muyu had been about to catch up on messages when Yan Tianxing called.
The kid was in full latchkey mode these days—clinging to Lin Chi now and then but never seeking out Shen Tianqing.
“Auntie, when are you getting off work?”
Yan Muyu chuckled. “Haven’t even started yet.”
Qiu Chao listened with downcast eyes as Yan Muyu took the call.
A total one-eighty from how she treated Qiu Chao—like a different person.
“Twenty-two days, and today doesn’t count.”
Yan Muyu sighed, letting her young niece chatter on.
Lin Chi had taken her to the theme park today—she wasn’t some Muggle, and all that. Then how Lin Chi’s college boyfriend was such a ditz, like a rabbit spirit—gorgeous but useless. Still, Big Sis Lin Chi said bankrolling a pretty waste was a top-tier skill.
The metaphors flew wild, and Yan Muyu was still grinning by the time they pulled up.
Viewers in the live stream were getting antsy, feeling thoroughly strung along by the show.
A peek in the morning, a bit at noon during boarding—then nothing.
But the stream stayed live. The first to arrive had been Pei Wan and Ding Yingxue, the manager-idol duo.
When Yan Muyu and Qiu Chao finally stepped out, there they stood at the doorway.
The village was comically rustic—a squat earthen house with a yard, bamboo grove out back, dense greenery all around. Pure, unspoiled nature.
Crane your neck, and you could spot scattered lights on the next peak over—that seemed like the actual village.
Even in summer, the wind up here was chilly. Yan Muyu hefted her suitcase, eyeing the shack that screamed “turn tail and run.”
Now she got why these two hadn’t gone in.
They’d arrived at last, and so had the live stream.
Viewers flooded in. The feed showed the four women’s backs against that vintage-as-hell house.
【Whoa, that house has some serious character.】
【Thought this was one of those ‘lifestyle’ shows secretly filmed in a shiny new build…】
【Harsh. Isn’t Young Boss Yan loaded? This treatment cracks me up.】
【Back view alone screams misery…】
【Meanwhile, some unlucky singer tweets her car’s broken down on the hairpin road, nearly slid backward…】
【Liu Song posted a selfie. Why’s she so hyped? Starting to think she actually likes Xi Xi…】
Yan Muyu was the tallest of the bunch—Yan family stock ran tall.
She’d never met Pei Wan or Ding Yingxue before and extended a hand to shake theirs naturally.
She’d heard of the sisters. Showbiz had its share of family operations, but they often lacked polish, so resources stayed middling.
Ding Yingxue’s path was laser-focused: parents mapped it out young. Once Pei Wan finished school, she took full charge of her younger sister’s career.
Though technically cousins, Pei Wan had been raised by Ding Yingxue’s parents from childhood—like true sisters.
That said, their looks were worlds apart. Most folks clocked Ding Yingxue first.
Pei Wan’s vibe was too understated, almost invisible. Ding Yingxue was the top child star of her cohort—best resources, strongest track record.
Pei Wan deserved all the credit.
Pei Wan shook Yan Muyu’s hand. Her features were plain, but her smile was warm and easy. She wore her long hair pinned back with a simple clasp, a few strands falling loose.
A slender back, a long neck, and an aura that was plenty captivating.
Yan Muyu was exceptionally skilled at photographing women. Once her gaze landed on someone, she could usually capture their most alluring moment.
That look held no personal feelings—just pure appreciation.
“Hello, I’m Pei Wan, Yingxue’s manager,” Pei Wan said.
She shook hands with Yan Muyu, their grip brief, but her eyes stayed fixed on the other woman.
Everyone was curious about Yan Muyu. Even though she was no longer Hree’s chief photographer, her reputation lingered.
“Hello, Yan Muyu,” Yan Muyu replied.
She added, “You can call me Muyu.”
Pei Wan was the same age as Yan Muyu.
She wasn’t much of a talker and didn’t strike anyone as the bubbly type.
The production crew’s camera caught them against the backlight, lending texture even to the dilapidated house in the background. And that was without mentioning Qiu Chao and Ding Yingxue—both actresses in the industry. Qiu Chao was a film veteran, while Ding Yingxue was a rising TV star. They were chatting too.
【This Young Boss Yan’s gaze… so…】
【My brain is flooded with Yan Muyu’s gossip. The one that stuck with me most was that she dated Xuan Zhelu…】
【Policies are more relaxed these days, but almost no one comes out publicly. Nobody wants to lose their job.】
【How are we supposed to survive the next twenty days? This place looks rough even from the outside.】
Off-screen, the director’s team had taken their positions. The moment Yan Muyu spotted the director’s face, a wave of annoyance washed over her.
“How come it’s you?”
【Who? Why aren’t they filming this!】
【This variety show feels so casual…】
【It’s great… I hate scripted drama. Yan Muyu’s a boss but gets no special treatment—hilarious.】
【This place is such a village!!】
The feed cut to the director’s team, capturing them for real.
The woman at the front had silver hair slicked back, practically glowing under the headlights in the night.
Her tactical jacket was zipped all the way up, and her ear piercings nearly matched Yan Muyu’s—like she was trying to turn her earlobe into a colander.
She didn’t fit the stereotype of a middle-aged, potbellied male director at all.
She was probably wearing cat-eye contacts with slit pupils that looked strikingly cool under the lights.
【So… cool… director.】
【This woman looks familiar… Have I seen her somewhere?】
【She did overseas variety shows before. I remember her.】
【Word is she’s got a string of girlfriends—always getting papped clubbing with girl group members.】
Pei Wan and Ding Yingxue had asked about the director for this show, but the producers hadn’t spilled, just assured them it was all good.
Even they were surprised to see her in person.
Qiu Siyuan was simply too famous, though she’d never done a domestic variety show.
While studying abroad, she’d hosted a civilian makeover program in the States that still held a 9.8 rating.
It was always brimming with humanity and warmth, yet never dull in its day-to-day moments.
Domestic companies had thrown big money at her to come back, but they couldn’t lure her.
The silver-haired woman stood, and Yan Muyu walked over for a hug.
The camera made it clear the two were close.
“No way—you actually got roped in? I had no idea,” Yan Muyu said.
“Yeah,” Qiu Siyuan replied. “If you weren’t a guest, I wouldn’t have come.”
The next second, her gaze shifted to Qiu Chao, who stood off to the side.
“Qiu, you happy?”
She hooked an arm around Yan Muyu’s neck. “With this one as your manager, you can get all the revenge you want.”
Yan Muyu looked utterly baffled.
The live chat filled with question marks.
Only Qiu Chao, amid the night breeze, tucked a strand of wind-tossed long hair behind her ear.
She revealed a smile—shy and bashful in a way the public rarely saw from her. “Happy.”
