It was the weekend, a time for group activities, but the production team had no intention of letting the guests sleep in. As the sky was just beginning to lighten, they roused everyone from their beds.
Yan Muyu hadn’t slept well all night. After bringing Qiu Chao back to her room the previous evening, she had barely finished showering when her phone rang with a call from Yan Tianxing.
Her little niece was still profoundly averse to school—probably from watching her aunt’s live streams every day—and she asked several times if she could come over to play.
It was summer vacation, after all, and school was out. Yan Muyu had enrolled Yan Tianxing in a summer camp and had planned for her mother, Lin Yumian, to look after her.
Lin Yumian had probably brushed it off, as usual.
The little girl had been through quite a lot. Though she never once said “I miss you” during the call, her nonstop chatter made it clear with every word that she wanted Yan Muyu to come home soon.
Yan Muyu thought of her own empty house. Even without the summer camp, Yan Tianxing would just be bored and alone.
She always remembered how it had been when she was that age—always on her own.
The Yan Family never lacked for money and could provide endless fun people and things, but when it came to emotional warmth, there had always been a void.
“Wait until your summer camp is over,” Yan Muyu said. “Mine will be wrapping up around then, too.”
She always kept her promises to Yan Tianxing, as if she were talking to her younger self. But she couldn’t help venting a little resentment toward Lin Yumian. “Didn’t Grandma come to see you?”
Yan Tianxing replied, “She seems to have gone traveling with someone.”
Lin Yumian had withdrawn from worldly affairs for years. Her personality seemed soft at first glance, but it was stubbornly unyielding beneath the surface, especially when it came to her unrealistic fantasies about love.
Just like back then, when she had humbled herself in hopes that Yan Muyu’s father would turn back to her. Even now, as a grandmother, she still yearned desperately for someone else’s affection.
“Whatever,” Yan Muyu said. “You just have fun, okay?”
Yan Tianxing was still reluctant to hang up, so Yan Muyu sat outside and talked with her for a long while.
The production team left her alone. The live stream was nearly over anyway, and the viewers in the chat were simply curious about who could hold Yan Muyu’s attention so patiently.
Even without hearing the voice on the other end, they could tell from Yan Muyu’s body language that the caller was someone special.
Screenshots of the moment made their way into the variety show’s trending topics. Someone asked: Does Yan Muyu have a girlfriend now?
[Huh? Never heard anything about that.]
[This production team is so sneaky. Can’t I just know who she’s talking to?! They captured Yan Muyu’s expression so tenderly—it’s impossible not to ship it.]
[Feels like she’s coaxing someone.]
[She might be the least reliable manager out of all of them, but right now… she actually seems pretty dependable.]
[Just from how she scooped up Qiu Chao like that—Xi Xi and Pei Wan could never.]
When Qiu Chao woke up that morning, Yan Muyu was already gone from the room.
Following her usual routine, she checked her phone and spotted the hot topic in the show’s entry.
Many people were guessing it was a girlfriend—it fit Yan Muyu’s image perfectly.
But Qiu Chao was sure it had been Yan Tianxing.
She switched to her alt account to shoot down the posts claiming Yan Muyu must be seeing someone, then saved a bunch of fan-screenshot photos of herself and Yan Muyu.
Early as it was, she fired them all off to Mai Chen.
-Qiu Chao: [Image]
-Qiu Chao: [Image]
-Qiu Chao: The camera work is flawless. We look like a perfect match.
Mai Chen had bloodwork scheduled that morning and, as an inpatient, hadn’t had time to watch the live stream until eleven. She stuck to an early-to-bed, early-to-rise schedule.
She couldn’t watch the evening broadcasts live, but catching the morning replays worked just fine.
She never imagined that the first thing she’d see upon opening her phone would be Qiu Chao showing off.
-Mai Chen: This excited?
-Mai Chen: You two official now?
-Mai Chen: How’s the injury? I really want to ask if you fell on purpose, but that feels too basic.
The live stream hadn’t started yet, so Qiu Chao lounged in bed, grinning as she typed back.
-Qiu Chao: Of course not on purpose. Do I seem like the type to hurt myself for love?
-Mai Chen: Anyone else, no. But Yan Muyu isn’t just anyone to you.
Her blunt words landed in Qiu Chao’s eyes like pure validation.
-Qiu Chao: Right? If even you think so, then Yan Muyu definitely…
-Mai Chen: You two talked it out?
-Qiu Chao: Nope.
-Mai Chen: Her ex showed up, and you’re cool with that?
-Qiu Chao: Yan Muyu wouldn’t get back with her.
-Mai Chen: Not jealous?
The “typing…” indicator at the top of the chat lingered for a long time.
-Qiu Chao: Of course I’m jealous.
Her next message carried obvious delight: But Yan Muyu’s on my side.
-Mai Chen: I still think you two should just lay it all out.
Mai Chen was utterly numb after the past few days.
Even Xia Yuanyuan, the assistant who only reported good news, wouldn’t spill what Qiu Chao had actually been up to.
Mai Chen wasn’t cut off from the internet just because she was hospitalized. How could she miss Qiu Chao’s antics on the live stream?
People in the industry were even asking her if it was scripted. Was Qiu Chao playing the role of the little sister-in-law pining after her ex-sis-in-law?
Mai Chen didn’t even have the face to respond, let alone explain.
Because Qiu Chao was the real Schrödinger’s shipper.
Live streams and variety shows tested a star’s adaptability like nothing else, and they had a way of shattering the mystique actors cultivated.
Qiu Chao’s popularity was surging—it was all heading in a great direction.
But shows like this inevitably spawned CP ships.
Whale Entertainment’s previous hit, A World Starting Anew, had featured that fan-fueled double-canary pairing of Meng Heng and Sun Sitiao.
If a ship gained unstoppable momentum, it could influence the stars themselves.
Qiu Chao…
She had gone all in.
Mai Chen felt a pang just watching the replays.
She hadn’t been with Qiu Chao through those first four tough years, so she had no idea where Qiu Chao’s pain threshold lay.
The team that had stuck with Qiu Chao back then had long since disbanded. The one who had cared for her most attentively turned out to be Yan Muyu.
That’s why Xia Yuanyuan’s occasional messages carried such shock.
—Mai Sis, Young Boss Yan is so thoughtful. She even knows the perfect temperature for Sister Qiu’s water.
—I realized Young Boss Yan just knows what Sister Qiu likes without being told.
Things like that.
Being an assistant was a job, with a clear checklist from training.
But Yan Muyu had never been an assistant. Her manager certification was a casual afterthought. Yet Qiu Chao had become her first client by some twist of fate.
Habits from over a decade ago were etched into her body. She knew what Qiu Chao liked and disliked, what made her react, what scared her.
Some preferences were intensely personal, leaving Xia Yuanyuan—who prided herself on being a top-tier assistant from the outside—feeling ashamed.
Mai Chen had told Xia Yuanyuan: That’s not assistant work. That’s one person’s ingrained way of caring.
It was a terrifying habit.
The indulgence and tolerance born from years of constant closeness—even after a clean break, when they crossed paths again, what surfaced first wasn’t love or hate, but the little details of—
How good it had once been.
Mai Chen didn’t like Yan Muyu and didn’t think she was the right endgame for Qiu Chao.
But after years of working together, no one could force Qiu Chao into anything she didn’t want.
If Qiu Chao had been ruthlessly ambitious, she could have taken shortcuts long ago. She was so elegantly self-serving, yet here she was, throwing herself headlong into love.
People were always so contradictory. Qiu Chao’s contradictions came laced with uncertainty, born from never receiving the passionate response she craved.
Plenty of people had liked her over the years, but it was always one-sided.
There was only one person Qiu Chao had ever liked, and that had been one-sided too.
Qiu Chao even had a touch of childish naivety. The moment Mai Chen suggested laying it all out, she fired back—
-Qiu Chao: Not the right time yet.
Mai Chen asked: Then when?
This variety show was the perfect chance. No other distractions, no room for Yan Muyu to spark anything new.
None of the other guests were her type, and she was deeply tied to her own manager.
Out in these rural mountains, with a director bending over backward to help.
All the timing, location, and harmony they’d missed before had converged right here.
But Mai Chen couldn’t guarantee Yan Muyu would reciprocate.
Winning Yan Muyu over was like grasping at the moon in water, snapping flowers in a mirror, or chasing wind with a net—bound to come up empty.
-Qiu Chao: I don’t know either.
She seemed to hesitate for a bit before slowly typing: But Yan Muyu’s been so much better to me than before.
-Qiu Chao: She remembers everything.
Mai Chen thought: She’s usually so sharp. Why is she playing dumb now?
I’ve never gotten this stupid over a relationship.
~~~
The production team announced they wouldn’t have to cook breakfast that morning, and no one was happier than Liu Song.
She clearly had zero interest in eating Xi Xi’s “love noodles” again. She bounded up, greeting everyone with a bright good morning, then grabbed Yan Muyu. “Young Boss Yan, has Lulu Sis gotten up yet?”
Yan Muyu glanced upstairs. “Why don’t you go check?”
Liu Song: “You go.”
The live stream had just gone live, and viewers flooded in, catching Yan Muyu and Liu Song shoving the responsibility back and forth.
[What are they doing this early?]
[LOL, Liu Song, why’d you back out again?]
[Why is Yan Muyu washing her hair every single morning?]
[Did Xuan Zhelu drink too much last night?]
Yan Muyu gave Liu Song several pointed looks before finally heading upstairs herself.
But just as she reached the stairs, Xuan Zhelu came stumbling down.
Yan Muyu jumped. “What happened to you?”
Xuan Zhelu’s assistant had looked after her after the live stream ended last night. She was still in her pajamas, eyes half-shut as she shuffled down, apparently headed for the bathroom.
She was still groggy, but hearing Yan Muyu’s voice made her a little happy, so she called out, “Ah Yu.”
Yan Muyu watched wide-eyed as she missed a step, startling her. She hurried over to steady her, terrified that something major might happen here under the production team’s watch.
The cameras here were all fixed in place, so the view had some distortions.
Everyone else only caught a glimpse of Yan Muyu’s sleeve flashing by, followed by her rushing up the stairs three steps at a time.
Liu Song, standing in the hall checking today’s itinerary card, heard a thud and jumped in fright.
Qiu Chao had just changed clothes and come out. She asked in surprise, “What happened?”
Then came Xuan Zhelu’s sharp cry: “Yan Muyu! My treasure! Are you okay?”
Qiu Chao’s face changed instantly. She beat even Liu Song to it, rushing into the stairwell leading upstairs. There, she saw Yan Muyu propping herself up on the steps to stand.
