Chapter 43: Simmering in Warm Water Part 1

Because Yan Muyu hadn’t been able to buy the specified cut of meat that day, she headed to the market again the next morning.

This time, Qiu Chao didn’t tag along. She had been assigned to embroider a massive pattern and watched Yan Muyu leave with eyes full of reluctance.

The afternoon brought little work, so Qiu Chao headed home early.

Pei Wan tried making plum pork ribs using the recipe she’d brought back, but the flavor fell flat.

She and Qiu Chao experimented with it several more times.

Yan Muyu lounged in the rocking chair, fiddling with her camera. Liu Song glanced her way several times as she passed by before finally working up the nerve to ask, “Young Boss Yan, why didn’t you stick with that career?”

The live stream picked up the soft rustling of weary birds returning to their nests outside the Little Mud House as evening fell. Xi Xi and Ding Yingxue stood side by side, checking the latest notice from the production team on their phones.

A guest would arrive tomorrow, and they needed to prepare some local specialties.

Plum pork ribs and a green tea series—nothing too complicated overall.

They just had to make the dumpling wrappers from scratch.

Xi Xi complained without a hint of restraint. Yan Muyu shot a glance at the curious Liu Song. “When was the last time you saw me with free time for photography?”

Liu Song tilted her head. “I mean before. Didn’t you quit ages ago?”

The barrage scrolling across the live stream brimmed with viewers’ curiosity.

Compared to the others, Yan Muyu’s presence wasn’t all that active.

Pei Wan had been a big name in the educational vlogging scene back in the day. During her undergrad years at a top university, she’d churned out vlogs left and right while pulling all-nighters for interviews.

Her college life had been full and vibrant, and even years later, backups of those old videos still floated around online.

Ding Yingxue had been a child star that year, and on the rare sets where she filmed, Pei Wan would pop up to tutor her.

Xi Xi had always been the delicate flower of wealth. Her social feeds overflowed with a lifestyle she never saw as flaunting riches—but her followers certainly did, to the point of excess.

People couldn’t help their curiosity about her day-to-day, though.

And she was a stunner, to boot. Her comments overflowed with fans fawning “big sis this” and “big sis that,” peppering her with questions about where she scored her latest finds.

Xi Xi might come off as haughty, but she wasn’t prickly. She showered her fans with gifts every few days.

Her messy split from her ex-husband had won her a wave of sympathy, too.

Yan Muyu barely posted on domestic social apps, and she hadn’t broadcast her relationship with Xuan Zhelu anywhere public.

CP fans had dissected Xuan Zhelu’s updates thread by thread, convinced Yan Muyu had to be dating someone.

Yan Muyu was a woman, after all, and not getting caught in anything scandalous could almost pass for platonic friendship.

Even with everyone knowing she was gay.

Her overseas profiles buzzed with activity, mostly photos over words: camping trips, ski slopes, mountain hikes, fishing outings…

A life packed to the brim, but offering no real peeks into more—her group shots never betrayed a girlfriend’s presence.

Someone had once mistaken Shen Tianqing for her paramour.

That sparked Yan Muyu’s longest reply chain ever—a flurry of posts.

Shen Tianqing herself had shot it down bluntly: “I’d sooner die than go for Yan Muyu.”

End of story.

The rumors painted her as a hedonist drowning in vice, but her public profiles offered scant proof.

A string of girlfriends, juggling multiple flames, a flirt through and through—common knowledge in expat student circles.

Truth mingled with lies until it all stuck to her like a “bad girl” badge.

The Yan Family couldn’t care less.

Yan Muyu? Less still.

Liu Song’s question dredged up events from four years back. Yan Muyu let out a sigh. “Yeah. Just lost the spark, you know?”

She polished the lens—who knew what she was tweaking next—then struck a dramatic pose.

“Call it a creative dry spell.”

Liu Song’s hair fell in fluffy, soft waves. Yan Muyu reached out to twirl the cherry hair tie dangling from the motion, but Xi Xi swooped in and batted her hand away.

“Our Liu Song’s as straight as they come,” Xi Xi said.

Liu Song blinked, still processing. The fragrant breeze from Xi Xi’s lean-over practically brushed her nose as she swatted past.

Liu Song let out a dazed hum.

Yan Muyu chuckled. “Is she? Only her hair, maybe.”

She seemed far more mellow now—perhaps from that touching tale she’d heard earlier, or the way the village’s cooking smoke hushed everything to peace.

A shift in mood could subtly reshape one’s aura. Yan Muyu fixed her gaze on the camera again, scrolling through her daytime shots.

She brushed it off lightly, but Xi Xi opened her mouth for more—only for Liu Song to nudge her away. “Sister Xi, you upset? What’s eating you? I handled all the cow dung scooping today. Why the sour face? Tell me?”

She wielded her honeyed voice like a pro.

Ambient noise or no, viewers felt themselves melting into it.

【Liu Song’s made for pillow talk.】

【Did Yan Muyu just throw shade at Liu Song?】

【Xi Xi’s the straight one here. Liu Song? Too kid-sister for romance, feels off.】

【Yan Muyu babies that camera more than any girlfriend.】

Yan Muyu thumbed through the day’s photos and fiddled with the lens. In her absent fiddling, someone suddenly barreled into frame.

Qiu Chao held out a green jujube. “Hungry?”

It looked freshly washed, with another tucked in her cheek.

Yan Muyu shook her head.

She’d been unusually subdued all day—so much so that Qiu Chao hesitated to interrupt.

Liu Song had a sensitive soul. Back home, she’d sunk into Yan Muyu’s tale of the two bosses, sighing over it more than once before peering at her photos.

From the kitchen, where she and Pei Wan tinkered with plum pork ribs, Qiu Chao glanced out to see Liu Song crouched by the rocker, chatting away.

“How was lunch for you all?” Pei Wan asked.

Steam billowed from the kitchen, slicking brows with sweat. Dinner aromas soon filled the air.

But the production team had dropped a new menu—guest’s tastes unknown, complete with a vegetable salad.

No monopolizing, either: one dish per person.

Qiu Chao eyed the list. “Home-style stuff. That boss lady cooks a mean meal.”

Pei Wan held herself to exacting standards across the board.

A subtle perfectionist—at least, Qiu Chao had never seen anyone pack an electronic scale for a trip like this.

Even the rice got portioned to the gram.

Right now, she sliced meat into even strips, each a match in heft.

“Plum pork ribs…” Pei Wan sighed. “Why can’t we nail the taste?”

Qiu Chao’s mind drifted to Wu Xiaoqing—and Boss Hong’s love for green tea dumplings, mentioned over meals. Maybe ask for a hand?

Guest due day after next; two days ought to do it.

“Can we call in reinforcements?” Qiu Chao murmured.

Pei Wan’s eyes sparked. “Worth a shot. But Yan Muyu might have better luck asking.”

They kept their voices low. The live stream caught only murmurs, nothing clear.

Beauties in the kitchen made for eye candy regardless—pure viewing bliss.

Truth was, Qiu Chao had come to enlist Yan Muyu’s help.

Ding Yingxue had snagged the green jujubes on her way back. Day one, they’d all pinched pennies, terrified of running dry. But realizing the show just wanted good eats loosened their wallets.

She’d hauled home a hefty bag, devoured half en route, then munched between swings of the axe while splitting logs with Liu Song.

Yan Muyu shook her head again. She mulled how to capture that otherworldly poise of Wu Xiaoqing’s.

Odd woman, that village widow—such peculiar detachment.

Yet her face and words betrayed no chill.

Yan Muyu had puzzled over it that afternoon, too. Hadn’t stopped her meat run, though.

She’d swung by Wu Xiaoqing’s place again, splurging on a fat bundle of Mimi shrimp strips before dumping them on Qiu Chao and Qiaoqiao at the embroidery workshop.

Now, she toyed mindlessly with the lens, gaze on Qiu Chao gone hazy.

It made Qiu Chao feel she could toy right back. Ignoring the headshake, she popped the jujube straight into Yan Muyu’s mouth.

Yan Muyu froze.

So did the viewers.

【？？？】

【Sister Qiu, she said no—why force it?】

【Never seen Yan Muyu’s face like that.】

【Her whole vibe’s so artsy today… kinda captivating.】

【Young Boss Yan taking an L? Gold.】

【Screenshot this—prime “choked up” meme material.】

Caught off guard, Yan Muyu froze between spitting and swallowing.

Qiu Chao nudged it deeper, her fingertip grazing Yan Muyu’s lips—then yanked back sharp.

As if she were the victim.

Yan Muyu crunched the crisp fruit in resignation, cheeks ballooning. Utterly done.

She spat the pit and grumbled, “Told you I wasn’t eating.”

Qiu Chao perched on the armrest, beaming down. “And yet.”

The sour tang stung Yan Muyu’s cheeks. She cupped her face and muttered, “Quit tormenting me.”

Qiu Chao missed it, leaning in all chummy. “Whatcha got there?”

The camera framed Xiao Qing the boss locking eyes with Hong Long—a midday candid, backdrop artfully blurred.

Yan Muyu arched a brow. “Need something?”

Her tone had chilled anew, but Qiu Chao brushed it off.

Yan Muyu now was much improved from her earlier prickliness—or rather, Yan Muyu wasn’t prickly at heart.

She was simply too good, so good that no one knew how to claim her for themselves. Liking turned to loathing, culminating in that stark warning—

Don’t fall in love with Yan Muyu.

But how could anyone resist?

Qiu Chao was determined to push her luck.

She leaned close to Yan Muyu’s ear and whispered, “Can we call in some reinforcements? Pei Wan and I just can’t get those plum pork ribs right.”

The rocking chair was meant for swaying, and even though Yan Muyu hadn’t leaned back fully, the moment Qiu Chao perched on the armrest, the whole thing tipped off balance.

Yan Muyu’s ears had always been sensitive. Qiu Chao’s sudden whisper sent her into overdrive. She tried to shove Qiu Chao away, but Qiu Chao grabbed hold tight.

Qiu Chao tumbled right into the rocking chair, landing squarely on top of Yan Muyu.

Behind the Little Mud House stretched verdant hills and bamboo groves, filled with the rustling flap of weary birds returning to their nests. Ding Yingxue seemed to be chatting with Pei Wan in the kitchen. When Pei Wan didn’t respond, she raised her voice.

Liu Song was shelling green beans and waved off Xi Xi’s offer to help. “Your nails are too long for this,” she said.

Xi Xi replied, “Then I can take them off,” but the artist, a good decade younger than her, just scolded, “Don’t mess around.”

Yan Muyu let out a pained grunt.

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around Qiu Chao’s waist. The rocking chair rocked wildly, creaking with age in a series of sharp squeaks.

The live chat went blank for a moment.

Liu Song and Xi Xi both glanced over.

Qiu Chao hissed in discomfort and scrambled to shift off Yan Muyu, flustered.

But the scene was downright shocking.

Qiu Chao’s chest had smashed right into Yan Muyu, and Yan Muyu was clutching the camera strap with one hand for dear life, afraid it would fall.