Yan Muyu: …
Her face might as well have said, “You have no shame.”
Qiu Chao laughed, a spark of delight in her eyes.
The morning light was soft and faint. Qiu Chao tugged at the fabric over her chest with one hand. In the next moment, her brows furrowed, and she called out in a saccharine whine, “Little Yan~”
Yan Muyu went on high alert. “What?”
Qiu Chao: “You rode so fast. My head’s spinning now.”
Off-camera, Xia Yuanyuan let out a sigh.
Xing Wen: “Miss Qiu Chao’s so fragile? Maybe she needs some tonics.”
Xia Yuanyuan thought to herself: She’s so innocent.
Good thing no one knew this was Sister Qiu’s true face.
Yan Muyu had no choice but to support Qiu Chao as they walked inside.
She shot a glance at the cameraman following them. Seeing the boom mic hadn’t swung over yet, she hissed fiercely in Qiu Chao’s ear, “Cut the act.”
Qiu Chao fired back just as playfully: “Next time, let’s try it in the car?”
Yan Muyu: …
This woman was toxic.
~~~
The task the Embroidery Workshop had lined up for Yan Muyu was tracing patterns.
The footage synced with some later educational inserts about the craft, turned into stickers overlaid during her chats with the masters.
Yesterday, Qiu Chao had come alone. Even with a translator, and people talking to her, viewers still got the sense she was lonely.
Today, with Yan Muyu there, the translator girl stuck to her usual routine, asking a few questions.
But the kid had zero acting chops—she kept glancing nervously at the director off-camera.
Yan Muyu: “If it’s not working out, you can just ask me directly.”
She sat at the table, a cup of local specialty black tea at her side. For some reason, it tasted like raspberries when brewed.
Outside the window stretched a forest, morning light filtering through the branches and spilling onto Qiu Chao on the other side.
She’d already gotten to work.
The village was so remote that locals only ventured out a few times a year for holidays.
Tourism wasn’t developed yet, so even if visitors came, they’d praise the scenery but complain about the lodging and have no clue what to eat.
Qiu Chao was stunning today, and the production team had dressed her in local ethnic attire. At a glance, she looked like a native woman.
Not a young girl anymore, but she had a special kind of radiance.
The camera panned over her, and viewers who’d been lured by Xi Xi’s meme videos on Weibo thought they’d stumbled into the wrong live stream.
Yan Muyu didn’t look at Qiu Chao directly, but she caught her in her peripheral vision.
She pushed aside the steaming tea and scooted toward the electric fan. To the tense little girl, she said, “Relax. You’ll still get paid for translating.”
The girl broke into a grin.
The director: “Don’t interfere with our work.”
Yan Muyu: “What work? I am your work.”
She had a gift for twisting logic. Just like that, she took charge and snatched the director’s question list.
“Have you looked into the local ethnic customs before?”
Yan Muyu: “Nope.”
“What do you think now?”
Yan Muyu: “Embroidery’s too hard.”
Compared to Ding Yingxue, who’d been dinged for zero variety-show vibe since the show started, Yan Muyu’s easygoing looseness stood out.
The industry was full of polished stars. Qiu Chao wasn’t even in the same league as current top idols, and she kept her private life under wraps.
Yan Muyu and Xi Xi were the most real ones out there.
One was naturally bouncy, the other thrived on teasing.
Fans often joked it was backward.
The artist less fun than her manager.
Yan Muyu’s tone stayed light as she breezed through the third question: “Have you studied drawing before?”
Yan Muyu: “Whoever wrote these questions has no game. They should be asking if I even want to do this job.”
Director: “Do we need to ask?”
【The girl next to her keeps cracking up.】
【Young Boss Yan is hilarious. Hanging out with her seems fun.】
【She only gets awkward with Qiu Chao… like she’s got her number.】
【Still stuck on that bike-riding smile. People really look different when they smile.】
Yan Muyu: “Yeah, back in elementary school.”
On the show, Ding Yingxue and Liu Song had mentioned their backgrounds—most fans knew their family stories. Xi Xi’s messy love life was public knowledge.
Yan Muyu came from money and was the show’s boss, but she rarely spilled personal tea.
Yan Muyu: “Dabbled in everything, mastered nothing.”
She rattled off a few examples. Qiu Chao, ostensibly focused on her embroidery across the way, was actually hanging on Yan Muyu’s every word.
Yesterday alone, she’d been bored out of her mind, passing the time by daydreaming about Yan Muyu.
Today they shared the same space, and she still ached with longing.
The thrill of last night’s tangles lingered on Qiu Chao’s body, fueling her growing greed.
Yan Muyu had turned her down yesterday, but she’d caved in the end.
This woman always had a soft heart. A few tears, and it was done.
Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
In the end, Qiu Chao had no idea when she’d fallen asleep. Waking that morning, she still savored the warmth of their bodies intertwined under the thin blanket, the joy Yan Muyu had coaxed from her as she yielded.
Yan Muyu, you’re different with me.
【That’s big-family life? All those lessons sound pricey…】
【The girl next to her looks lost.】
【Yan Muyu’s photography skills are top-tier. That one guy xxx should bow to her—she shot him perfectly.】
【Her compositions are genius. Why isn’t she doing this professionally?】
【Rich kid perks. Does whatever. But the Yan Family doesn’t seem that free—she got dragged into being boss.】
【She does post private shots, right? On Insta too.】
【Depends on who she’s shooting.】
【Xuan Zhelu got lucky. Feels like she’s riding Yan Muyu’s coattails to the top.】
Yan Muyu finished and noticed the little girl still staring at her. “What?”
The girl: “Do you take pictures of them like they do?”
Yan Muyu: “Yeah.”
The girl: “Where’s your gear?”
It was totally off-script. Even the off-camera crew perked up.
This team had people from Qiu Siyuan’s camp and Whale’s.
The big four cinematographers were hyped as gods now, but among peers, only Yan Muyu and Yao Xilou stood out.
Yan Muyu loved shooting women. Yao Xilou didn’t discriminate, but folks said even his men didn’t hit like Yan Muyu, the lesbian.
Talent played a huge role in the craft.
Some were born with what others chased their whole lives.
Like intuition, capturing the decisive moment.
Yan Muyu’s shots were all instants, as if she could glimpse a person’s fleeting transformations and freeze them in a single frame.
One look pulled you in for another. Even hollow beauties came alive with layers.
The most bland subjects gained stories no one else could capture—but she could.
Yan Muyu: “Wanna learn?”
The kid nodded.
Yan Muyu sighed. “My niece hates this stuff. She’s always gaming.”
To the crew: “Go grab my camera on the way back. Once I’m done here, I’ll take her out shooting.”
【Didn’t expect her to be good with kids.】
【Is the niece Big Boss Yan’s? Qiu Chao looks chill.】
【If Qiu Chao had married Yan Kai back then… would these two be all cozy on the show now?】
【Yan Family wives don’t have it easy. Qiu Chao’s better off free, swimming in the open sea. Burning bridges was smart.】
The production team actually fetched Yan Muyu’s camera.
Questions done, she followed the master to trace patterns.
The workshop was stuffed with fabrics—maybe local subsidies helped with the renovations.
But workspaces were always cluttered: tables piled with paper, cloth, and balls of discarded embroidery thread.
The master taught, and the girl translated key bits.
Yan Muyu picked up a few phrases, but her accent cracked everyone up, the other embroiderers included.
Qiu Chao laughed too.
The little girl was Qiaoqiao, in sixth grade. After this summer break, she’d head to the county seat for school.
Her grandma was the one teaching Qiu Chao embroidery.
She watched Yan Muyu draw the lines with steady hands, then glanced at Qiu Chao, who hardly seemed like a beginner.
“What’s your relationship?” she asked.
This little girl wasn’t like Yan Tianxing, the kind of child exposed to the internet far too young.
She barely had time to play on her phone. If the program crew hadn’t reached out, Qiaoqiao would have been up at dawn picking tea leaves with her mother.
“Guess,” Yan Muyu said.
She wasn’t wearing earrings today. Her piercings looked like tiny wounds, not especially attractive.
Yan Muyu’s hair had been casually braided that morning. It wasn’t long, so the little plait resembled an underdeveloped tail—something the child found amusing.
“Friends?” Qiaoqiao ventured.
“No,” Yan Muyu replied.
She went over the lines several times with her pen. The local embroidery came in many styles, and those depicting faith were especially intricate.
The live chat overflowed with comments lamenting how difficult it was.
Yet Yan Muyu and Qiu Chao seemed like monsters, utterly unfazed by their newcomer status.
One moved with practiced ease, the other grasped it instantly. The program crew even set up a split-screen shot for side-by-side viewing, heightening the sense of their deep immersion in the work.
Birdsong drifted in from outside the window, and another pot of tea came to a boil.
The air filled with the fragrance of tea.
Qiaoqiao let out a soft “Ah.”
The program crew hadn’t told her much else. The little girl only knew these two were celebrities.
The day before, Qiaoqiao had sat beside Qiu Chao, watching her embroider.
Qiu Chao had completed four flowers, but the wave pattern stood out as the most striking.
A person’s movements could convey deep emotion.
Local girls sewed their own dowries when they married.
The child didn’t grasp complex feelings, but to her, Qiu Chao had resembled one of the new brides she’d seen.
Except she wasn’t holding red fabric.
Qiu Chao’s expression had been so soft, her gaze so tender.
It evoked the way Qiaoqiao had seen her brother and sister-in-law dance by the bonfire.
Qiaoqiao hadn’t asked then. She’d assumed it was a gift for someone special.
When she first laid eyes on Yan Muyu, the audience thought the girl was startled by her height. In truth, Qiaoqiao had noticed Yan Muyu’s hair ribbon.
The wave pattern was clipped at the front of the short braid, tamed neatly in place.
Yan Muyu started to explain what a manager was, but the child leaned close to her ear and whispered, “She’s your girlfriend, right?”
Yan Muyu’s line for the flower’s stamen veered sharply off course. The red pencil dragged a long streak across the paper.
The girl looked a touch smug. She whispered on, “I know we’re not supposed to say it.”
The next moment, she asked loudly, “Sis, did I guess right?”
Girls this age were utterly charming. Perhaps from too much time in the sun, her cheeks glowed rosy. Her smile brimmed with self-satisfaction—if she’d had a tail, it would have shot straight to the sky, a perfect match for her name.
Her eyes shone bright, awaiting Yan Muyu’s firm praise.
Yan Muyu nodded helplessly. “Yes, yes, you did.”
“You’re so clever.”
In the next instant, her phone lit up with a new message.
Yan Muyu tapped it open. It was from Yan Tianxing—
-[Pic]
-I knew it! There’s a picture of her in your room. Though I misremembered—it’s an oil painting.
Qiu Chao wore a velvet blue dress in the image, reclining in the dappled shade of trees.
It had clearly been taken in the Yan Family garden.
Yan Tianxing: Little aunt, you obviously have a great relationship with this sister! You lied to me! You’ve never painted one for me.
Yan Muyu instinctively glanced at Qiu Chao—only to find her looking back.
This time, she hurriedly averted her eyes.
Back then, I was so straightforward, Yan Muyu thought.
But now…
I absolutely can’t let the cat out of the bag.
