Chapter 45: Exchanging Secrets Part 1

Because Xuan Zhelu was coming, Yan Muyu had no choice but to head up and clean the attic in the Little Mud House.

But she clearly wasn’t cut out for tidying—the viewers felt exhausted just watching her.

On top of that, the attic really was ancient. The single room even required dismantling the crystal beaded curtain for a thorough cleaning.

The weather was muggy, and that evening, after the group had all showered, they realized Yan Muyu still hadn’t come down.

“Is it really that hard to clean?” Xi Xi asked.

She glanced up from downstairs. This house had a solid structure, actually—supposedly, the attic used to be reserved for the youngest daughter.

Liu Song stepped up beside Xi Xi and peered upward as well.

Just then, Muyu managed to unhook the beaded curtain and glanced down. Good grief—several pairs of eyes staring right back at her.

Leaning against the wooden railing she’d spent half the day wiping, she propped herself up and called out, “What are you all staring at? Why not come up and help?”

Xi Xi replied, “I was wiped out from shoveling cow dung.”

She had a real talent for delivering deadpan lines that cracked people up. At least the barrage lit up with a wave of hahahahas.

“Then let me come help…” Liu Song started to say.

But Xi Xi grabbed her before she could finish.

Xi Xi tilted her chin toward the others. Over there, Qiu Chao—who’d just showered and blow-dried her hair—was heading upstairs.

Pei Wan was off to the side, tallying up the accounts. The production team kept assigning new chores every day. Village life wasn’t bad, but everyone was starting to feel worn out.

Fortunately, it was the weekend, which meant a group outing to make fish lamps.

At least that beat pig rearing, duck herding, or cow herding.

The guests’ menu for tomorrow had already come out, so they could all head back early to cook.

Pei Wan was just about to ask Qiu Chao what vegetables they’d need to buy tomorrow—or if she wanted to hit the veggie garden for some fresh greens—when she realized Qiu Chao was gone.

“Sister Qiu headed upstairs,” Ding Yingxue said from where she was pouring water.

It was the first time the live stream audience had gotten a look at the attic.

Most viewers had never lived in a mountain village. Even those who’d visited had probably only seen spruced-up new rural developments or tourist homestays.

Pastoral Idyll kept things visually harmonious, faithfully recreating the look of an old village.

Plenty of those high-quality scenery GIFs had gone viral, and that was without even mentioning how the stunning landscapes blended seamlessly with the gorgeous female guests.

Whether it was Pei Wan puttering along on a tricycle through the morning mist or Yan Muyu pedaling her bike, they all had that refreshed, urban-grime-shedding vibe.

They didn’t quite pass for locals yet, but they were starting to blend in.

【This attic staircase is way too narrow.】

【How is there a slide?】

【Even one person would struggle up that, and the steps are so steep.】

【Qiu Chao even hitched up her skirt.】

Downstairs earlier, plenty of people had heard Yan Muyu blasting music.

She’d borrowed Liu Song’s pricey speaker, and by the time Qiu Chao reached the top, the upbeat light tunes enveloped her completely.

Upstairs relied on fixed cameras—probably because Qiu Siyuan had scouted the spot and figured stationary shots would work better than follow cams in such tight quarters.

Qiu Siyuan’s framing was always impeccable.

It started with a shot of Qiu Chao’s skirt hem, then switched to her point of view, drawing the audience along to explore the unfamiliar attic.

Yan Muyu stood in the wide-open room.

The second floor had just the one room, but its windows were enormous.

On day one, Xi Xi had asked if it was VIP treatment. Once the crew showed her some upstairs photos, though, she’d recoiled in disgust.

Still, it was clear a lot of thought had gone into building the place: those big windows pushed right outward.

The glass featured pale blue carved reliefs, and Yan Muyu had scrubbed them several times—they were much cleaner now.

She stood by the window, looking like she was catching her breath.

Yan Muyu’s posture was all lazy slouch, but her naturally slim waist and long legs gave it punch. She’d knotted the hem of her baggy oversized T-shirt, baring a strip of pale midriff.

From behind, she radiated this powerful energy that clashed with her usual vibe—purely the result of all that training.

Qiu Chao had watched Yan Muyu fence countless times before.

Whenever Qiu Chao had time off and Yan Muyu was free, they’d head out together.

Yan Muyu would always check first: “You wanna come with? If not, just wait for me—I’ll head back and then we can…”

But Qiu Chao wouldn’t even let her finish before nodding eagerly.

Yan Muyu would just say, “Oh. Then don’t get bored, okay?”

From Qiu Chao’s perspective, the window framed a sky brimming with stars.

The room’s light wasn’t all that bright—an old fixture with lily-petal shades spilling the glow downward.

In that soft light, Yan Muyu’s silhouette was utterly captivating.

【This angle…】

【Feels like I’m watching a romance flick.】

【Qiu Siyuan’s wasting her talent not directing movies. This shot makes it so easy to imagine Qiu Chao pining after Yan Muyu for years.】

【But Qiu Chao’s stunning too.】

【Killer wide shot—gets them both, and Qiu Chao’s expression just guts me.】

【Like she’s been gazing at her for years…】

【Come on, it’s not like they don’t know each other.】

No need for the production team to layer on post-production sound—the song Yan Muyu had playing via Bluetooth from the speaker was plenty emotive.

The mood hung thick and quiet, no embellishment required.

The next second, Yan Muyu turned her head. She spotted Qiu Chao standing at the stairwell.

The upstairs space wasn’t large—just the one room.

The little living area was crammed with junk, and Yan Muyu had only shoved things around haphazardly, with no clue where to begin.

Earlier, leaning at the window, she’d yelled down to Qiu Siyuan in the yard for advice on what to do. The director had shot back, “Sort it out yourself!”

Yan Muyu had brandished her fist at her.

Now, she looked startled, as if Qiu Chao had sneaked up on her. “How’d you get up here? You scared me.”

Qiu Chao’s hair wasn’t fully dry yet—the ends still damp.

She had this effortless way of blending into any setting, the kind that never pulled you out of a movie.

It was the same here: she fit the backdrop so perfectly that it sparked Yan Muyu’s creative impulses in an instant.

Yan Muyu was just about to tell her to get some rest when Qiu Chao beat her to it. “I’ll help you.”

“No need,” Yan Muyu said.

Qiu Chao took in the junk pile, the unmade bed, and the mop water still sitting on the floor that Yan Muyu hadn’t emptied.

With a half-smile, she looked at Yan Muyu. “You sure? Feels like it’d take you all night.”

Yan Muyu could’ve sworn Qiu Chao put extra weight on that “you.”

Yan Muyu shrugged. “All right then.”

Remembering Xi Xi’s instant shutdown earlier, she huffed. “These people are ruthless.”

Qiu Chao stepped closer to inspect the room and asked Yan Muyu, “So, am I good?”

Being alone together always carried this vague, electric undercurrent.

Fans had already penned lengthy forum essays under anonymous accounts, arguing that Yan Muyu had designs on her ex-sister-in-law.

Yan Muyu’s own fans called it an easy debunk, though—citing her history with exes in bullet-point takedowns.

Exhibit A: Xuan Zhelu.

The two camps went back and forth relentlessly, but nobody disputed the sparks between Yan Muyu and Qiu Chao.

It was blatant.

If it was just manufactured fanservice, neither of them needed the hassle.

Now, with no one around, Qiu Chao’s question wrapped in the summer swelter felt like a prod.

Like rain battering a battered lotus leaf, pressing in on Yan Muyu.

But they weren’t truly alone—the live stream had millions of eyes.

To the audience, Qiu Chao didn’t match the image of her peak acting days at all.

She was nowhere near delicate or fragile—never once whined about the heat or hard work, always pitching in quietly.

She’d even embroidered alongside colleagues she’d just met.

And her brand of care that slipped out during hangouts? Perfectly measured—warm without smothering, distant without being icy.

“Sure, savior,” Yan Muyu said.

Without glancing her way, she bent to grab the bucket of dirty water and haul it off to dump.

There weren’t many cameras upstairs, likely due to the cramped space.

Yan Muyu had polished the bedside window and had been about to make the bed, but now with Qiu Chao here, she still didn’t know how to navigate that faint, teasing tension.

Yan Muyu was a pro at stirring up flirtation—but even better at shutting it down.

Just like now: her breezy tone shattered the atmosphere Qiu Chao had built. “Thanks, then.”

【Qiu Chao’s so wifey.】

【Xuan Zhelu headed out early morning too, huh.】

【Lmao, that other girl’s still chattering away on her live stream, all hyped.】

【She really doesn’t give off that ice-queen girl-group-leader vibe.】

“Are you this polite with Xuan Zhelu too?” Qiu Chao murmured as they brushed past each other—too quiet for the mics, so the viewers missed it. Yan Muyu felt a pang of exasperation.

She shot Qiu Chao a look. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Fresh from her shower, Qiu Chao’s body wash scent perfumed the whole space with roses.

Yan Muyu suddenly clocked it: this woman was obsessed with rose everything—perfume, laundry detergent, shampoo, body wash.

But she wasn’t the same Yan Muyu who’d once shared a home with Qiu Chao anymore, and she had no intention of asking.

That felt too intimate.

Even though they’d shared a bed multiple times and still bunked together nightly these days—their bodies inches apart, their souls worlds away.

“Answer me,” Qiu Chao said.

She fought to keep her expression neutral, but inside, her heart twisted into knots. Years of bottled-up jealousy were on the verge of driving her insane.

The floral lamp overhead cast a cool, pale light, and scattered across the floor was a pile of discs from some forgotten era, all neatly sorted by Yan Muyu.

While cleaning earlier, she had kept insisting that she was just the little cleaning girl.

Yet she hadn’t denied it—this room had such a strong vintage vibe, like it belonged to a completely different world from downstairs.

It felt as if some trendy young person had once lived here, playing discs on mountain village nights, watching bootleg movies with their blurry picture quality, utterly transfixed.

Qiu Chao’s eyes reddened again.

Yan Muyu had turned away just moments ago when Qiu Chao tugged discreetly at the hem of her T-shirt that had come loose—a move so subtle the cameras completely missed it.

Cicadas chirped outside the window, while inside, dark undercurrents surged.

Even their breaths came in gusts like mountain winds, only the winds were cool while Qiu Chao’s were scorching hot.

Qiu Chao looked particularly aggrieved, so much so that Yan Muyu desperately wanted to ask her:

Why does your body seem to love me so much, while your eyes hate me?

But this wasn’t the time or place.

Yan Muyu grabbed Qiu Chao’s hand and fished a Devil Candy from her pocket, placing it in her palm.

“Don’t stand on ceremony with me.”

Qiu Chao’s heart jolted hard. As she looked up, tears she couldn’t hold back spilled down, the rest pooling in her eyes.

The audience watching was utterly baffled.

Yan Muyu’s heart trembled. Involuntarily, she reached out and wiped the tears from Qiu Chao’s cheek.

The next second, she jolted as if electrified and fled downstairs with the dirty water bucket in hand.

The old wooden stairs creaked and thudded underfoot—thump, thump, thump. No one knew what had happened, but Yan Muyu let out a curse.

Then came Liu Song’s voice—

“Young Boss Yan, what happened?”

Yan Muyu’s voice was utterly despairing: “Damn it, how can the floor just collapse like that?”