Chapter 31: Picking Her Up Part 3

【Huh? Greasy? It looks fine to me!! I’m a culinary major—no issues here.】

【Young Boss Yan doesn’t even cook and she’s critiquing!】

【Their meal looks healthy enough to me…】

【Feels like Qiu Chao just said something to her.】

【Nah, didn’t hear anything.】

【The way Qiu Chao watches Yan Muyu eat is just like my grandma eyeing a piglet… anyone get it?】

【Hahahaha, fattening her up to eat?】

Qiu Chao didn’t take offense at the veiled jabs. She ate slowly, picking at her food grain by grain, her pace leisurely.

Yet the sight of such a beauty was easy on the eyes, a stark contrast to Yan Muyu, who ate like a mukbang streamer.

No one found Yan Muyu crude, though. Her looks and unique aura saw to that.

The hall fell quiet now, the two of them eating in companionable silence—a picture of unexpected harmony.

As Yan Muyu ate without a word, her mind wandered back years ago, to when Qiu Chao had been her almost-sister-in-law and they’d shared meals at the Yan Family home.

Yan Kai was hardly ever around—still, Yan Muyu had no idea how the two of them had even gotten together in the first place.

She suspected it was because Qiu Chao bore a passing resemblance to Zhen Shu. That alone might have been reason enough to start.

Their temperaments couldn’t have been more different, though.

That elder sister had an aura like a bodhisattva—her smile seemed to offer salvation to all the world. She was beautiful, sure, but only in an ornamental way. Fine for display in a case, but Yan Muyu couldn’t picture her handling everyday life.

And yet Zhen Shu had been the model homemaker.

Pity most men were cut from the same cloth—one woman at home wasn’t enough; they always craved more outside.

No wonder they split. And so, during Yan Muyu’s study-abroad break, she ran into Qiu Chao fresh off wrapping a shoot.

The sprawling Yan Family estate held just the two of them. With Qiu Chao around, even the chef got the day off.

The little sister-in-law had particular tastes and no interest in Michelin-starred chefs—she preferred cooking herself.

Yan Muyu spent her breaks either gaming or grinding through homework. Coordinating international group projects was a nightmare; from the kitchen, Qiu Chao could hear her huddled on the sofa with her laptop, arguing with classmates.

French, English, and Chinese flew out in a torrent.

Her voice was so clear and fluid that even her scolding had Qiu Chao distracted from her cooking, her thoughts wandering.

They said Qiu Chao was uncultured, and sure enough, she couldn’t understand a word—but her heart still pounded like a drum.

That year, Yan Muyu had been good to her little sister-in-law. When she caught Qiu Chao’s gaze, she’d flash her a smile.

It wasn’t her usual smile, nor the one she gave other guests now. No—this one made Qiu Chao feel like she’d been slotted into Yan Muyu’s future for the long haul.

Only after Yan Muyu finished eating did she remember she was supposed to deliver meals to Sister Xi and Liu Song. But Pei Wan had taken all the packed lunches—and even driven off with the tricycle.

“Why didn’t she say anything?” Yan Muyu muttered.

Qiu Chao cleared the bowls and chopsticks, nudging Yan Muyu to tidy the table. “She took them right in front of you. Need she say more?”

Yan Muyu gave an “oh” and watched as Qiu Chao headed back.

While Qiu Chao washed the dishes, Yan Muyu quietly wiped down the table.

Their teamwork was seamless—not like strangers at all.

Nor like the typical manager and artist dynamic.

【Isn’t this too domestic?】

【Yan Muyu looks tough but she’s surprisingly easy to boss around.】

【Qiu Chao… total wife material.】

【I’m deep in aunt-sister-in-law shipping. Private Marseille.】

After one o’clock, Yan Muyu had to head out. She turned to Qiu Chao. “What time does your thing start this afternoon?”

The variety show offered multiple camera feeds.

Some viewers were even tuned into Pei Wan dropping off meals. Sister Xi could barely choke down food amid the stench of cow dung, while Liu Song felt full just watching—yet she still lavished praise on Pei Wan’s cooking in the group chat. Ding Yingxue preened with smugness, her tone screaming, “That’s my sister—jealous much?”

Liu Song topped it off by complimenting Sister Xi too: our Sister Xi is the real pro, picking through cow dung like it’s nothing.

Sister Xi voice-messaged back: “You idiot, what’s there to praise about that?”

Liu Song just giggled like a fool.

Yan Muyu ignored the group chatter. The old Little Mud House lacked air conditioning, and even with the midday heat easing, it was still stuffy. The fan whirred away as she flopped back into the rocking chair, fishing a palm-leaf fan from some drawer and waving it lazily. “I’m heading out soon.”

Her voice carried a clear note of drowsiness. The fan lifted her bangs, then let them fall.

Qiu Chao slotted the clean bowls onto the wooden rack—the antique pieces had been polished yesterday, giving the shot a nostalgic, timeless vibe under the camera.

“Three o’clock for me,” Qiu Chao said.

“Oh,” Yan Muyu replied. “That’s late. You can hang here by yourself.”

【I thought she’d say something like, ‘That late? Want me to come with?’】

【What are you hoping for? Look at Yan Muyu’s attitude. No way.】

There was a wooden stool by the rocking chair, its red varnish chipped. Qiu Chao perched on it, seemingly just to catch some of Yan Muyu’s breeze.

“I’ll go with you,” Qiu Chao offered.

Yan Muyu, eyes closed, paused mid-fan and switched it to her other hand. “No need.”

“You’re driving alone anyway. It’ll kill the boredom,” Qiu Chao pressed.

【She’s offering this much and you still won’t agree?】

【Feels like they really got along great back in the day.】

【Yan Muyu hasn’t budged an inch, except hogging the fan.】

【Totally suspect auntie-sister-in-law era had them shopping together.】

【They did! And got photographed.】

【What!!! Pics or it didn’t happen!】

“You think riding shotgun isn’t tiring?” Yan Muyu said. “Go handle your work.”

She still kept her eyes closed. The brightest spot in the hall was the skylight. This place was actually quite pleasant because the Little Mud House backed right up against the mountain, making it cooler than an ordinary home.

In the distance, there was even a small waterfall, and the faint sound of rushing water drifted in now and then.

Qiu Chao said, “I’m pretty bored here all by myself.”

She let out a yawn. Even sitting sideways on the long bench, her graceful figure was impossible to miss.

The next second, Qiu Chao snatched Yan Muyu’s fan away.

Yan Muyu opened her eyes.

Qiu Chao went on, “I know you find driving boring too.”

Yan Muyu replied, “It’s hot as hell in the car without the AC.”

That was also the boss’s rule.

Yan Muyu herself was essentially the boss, and she was left utterly speechless. She’d never gone hungry for lack of money in her life, and as Shen Tianqing had put it, this show really was designed to torment her.

Qiu Chao shot back, “I can handle the heat just fine.”

Her reply was lightning quick, but her gaze wandered, clearly lost in thought about something.

At the moment, the house held only her and Yan Muyu. Last night, with all the people and staff around, it had felt lively enough.

But after filming officially kicked off, the big crew had scattered into smaller groups, leaving hardly anyone off-camera now.

Qiu Siyuan was still hanging around, but she was swamped. Sick on top of it, and she couldn’t risk her cough getting picked up on mic, so she’d slapped on a mask for the day.

It was the sort of sight that made Yan Muyu sweat just glancing at her.

Off-camera, Qiu Siyuan raised an eyebrow as Qiu Chao, standing nearby with Yan Muyu’s assistant, leaned in for a quiet word.

Xia Yuanyuan murmured, “Sister Qiu’s actually pretty timid.”

Xing Wen let out a soft “Ah?” and said, “Is she scared of old houses like this?”

Xia Yuanyuan wasn’t sure how to respond. By the time she’d started working with Qiu Chao, her artist had already cut ties with Whale. She didn’t know the full story of Qiu Chao’s past.

All these years abroad, Qiu Chao had rarely come back to China, usually spending New Year’s with her team.

Qiu Chao’s little sister wasn’t the clingy type at all—she was a total homebody—and Xia Yuanyuan got that, especially with the scar on her face.

At such a young age, she already had that reclusive, mountain-hermit vibe.

Qiu Chao only went back for a few days during long holidays, just to stay with her sister.

The audience wasn’t the only one curious now; Xia Yuanyuan herself wondered what Sister Qiu’s childhood had been like.

Artists didn’t talk about a lot of things, so how were they supposed to know?

But right now, Xia Yuanyuan had this odd hunch that the show might coax Qiu Chao into opening up about stuff she’d never shared before.

Yan Muyu’s rocking chair swayed gently back and forth. The rattan seat wasn’t new—probably scrounged up by the production team to match the house’s rustic vibe.

It even creaked a little.

The sound only deepened the silence. Yan Muyu glanced over at Qiu Chao and realized for the first time that her eyes were darting everywhere, avoiding direct contact.

Yan Muyu let out a chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re still scared of ghosts.”

Qiu Chao shot back at once, “No, I’m not.”

But she instinctively scanned the surroundings anyway. There were follow cams running, and crew members just outside the door.

People were around, sure, but the house still felt way too empty.

Even the courtyard stirred up buried terrors from Qiu Chao’s memory—her grandparents’ deaths when she was little. They’d passed naturally of old age, but their bodies had lain in the old family home for the wake.

Right there in a hall like this one, though it had been raining that day, the sky far darker.

The old bulbs had buzzed and flickered overhead. It was a joyous funeral, nothing scary about it—gongs and drums blaring, even opera singers hired to perform.

They’d sung the elderly couple’s favorite pieces.

That kind of passing was a celebration, at least in Qiu Chao’s memory—no room for fear.

But that year, her mom had been pregnant when her dad met with tragedy. The family lost three people in under a year.

The unborn sister in her mother’s womb became the source of all the bad luck.

People turned on her mom too, the rumors driving her away until she just couldn’t take it anymore and left.

Every heartache in Qiu Chao’s life traced back to that funeral.

That’s why the sight of this house had spooked her yesterday.

Her usual insomnia dragged on longer than ever. She needed to watch Yan Muyu fall asleep first.

Thank goodness Yan Muyu was there.

But Qiu Chao’s comeback had been too swift, dredging up old memories for Yan Muyu of Qiu Chao’s terror during that horror flick.

Like that one rainy afternoon, years back.

She and Qiu Chao holed up in the basement movie room, watching a thriller.

Total trash—kids messing with a spirit-summoning game using a pen.

All shocks played for cheap scares. Yan Muyu had nearly laughed out loud. But when she turned, there was her rising-star little sister-in-law, head down, clutching a throw pillow so tight her knuckles whitened, hair curtaining her face.

Yan Muyu went, “Huh?” and called out, “Qiu Chao?”