Qiu Chao had returned to the country in a tough spot—too big for small gigs, too faded for the top tier. Holding onto goddess status meant skipping variety shows and high-exposure work.
Plenty of people were already predicting her downfall.
The night breeze lifted Qiu Chao’s hair. The way she looked at Yan Muyu was gentle and serene, as if she were carefully tracing every feature with her eyes.
“I don’t feel shortchanged,” Qiu Chao said.
She licked her lips, her voice mingling with the whistling wind. “You know the resources I’m after aren’t that kind.”
“Qiu Chao,” Yan Muyu said, a touch helpless, “you’re going too far.”
Her attitude was much softer than before the show started. After all, they hadn’t seen each other in years—bedroom encounters couldn’t compare to everyday life.
At her core, Yan Muyu was a gentle soul. Her wildness and recklessness were just two sides of the same coin.
It was the tenderness for flower petals, the blindfold as Qiu Chao gasped that it was okay, she could ruin her.
Warm palms overlapping with quivering eyelids—it nearly brought tears to Qiu Chao’s eyes, that lingering warmth.
How could anyone not crave a lifetime of such care?
No wonder it was addictive, unforgettable, sleepless nights with no substitute.
Deep down, she was affectionate and considerate with women, unaware that her casual indulgence was a poison.
“Yan Muyu, what are you so afraid of?” Qiu Chao asked.
Her gaze was calm, reminding Yan Muyu of a frozen winter lake—still on top, but surging underneath, freezing cold turning scalding hot.
Yan Muyu glanced toward the distant camera crew.
She could guess now who had orchestrated this perfect push-pull, the savvy filming that knew when to back off during the live stream.
It was clearly Qiu Siyuan and Qiu Chao’s scheme.
Qiu Siyuan was helping Qiu Chao hunt her down.
Really…
Yan Muyu smiled. “What would I have to be afraid of?”
She was a smiler, and that’s how she came across on the show.
Not to mention the selfies on the social account Yan Muyu had dug up—posed or candid, always with a smile.
That’s how Yan Muyu was in Qiu Chao’s memory too.
But this smile was one Qiu Chao had never seen.
It held no emotion, just a touch of loneliness.
“I’m not the right person for you,” Yan Muyu said.
It was the most direct answer she’d given lately.
The wind stirred the grass clippings on the ground as the sky darkened.
Village lights flickered on, and from their spot, they could see the hillside homes lighting up too.
Cars wound up the mountain road, headlights curving with each turn—dinnertime, folks heading home. An ordinary day in the mundane world.
But Qiu Chao didn’t back down. She stood with Yan Muyu, gazing at the lights below.
“Who do you think I’d suit?”
“Your brother?”
They hadn’t brought up Yan Kai much since reuniting.
Qiu Chao knew Yan Muyu checked her phone first thing in the morning for updates from her brother’s hospital caregiver, tracking his condition daily.
Of course she knew Yan Kai’s place in Yan Muyu’s heart—just like Qiu Yuan’s in hers. Family, inseparable.
Yan Muyu opened her mouth to speak, but Qiu Chao cut in.
“Do I need to explain those four years with your brother?”
Qiu Chao smiled. The wind lifted her skirt hem and long hair; she tucked a strand behind her ear, but the rose scent had already washed over Yan Muyu.
“Those four years,” Qiu Chao said, “were they mine and Yan Kai’s… or mine and yours?”
“You must have known at some point, even if not at first.”
She didn’t look at Yan Muyu, her eyes on a three-wheeler chugging up the distant mountain road.
The roadside lamps were old, buzzing with static. Kids played outside after dinner, the heavy thump of jump ropes mixing with crisp snaps.
“Doesn’t matter. It wasn’t me,” Yan Muyu said.
She dodged the question, but Qiu Chao wasn’t letting the chance slip.
“You’re not the type to feel tied down just because I almost became your sister-in-law, right?”
She tilted her head, her gaze lingering on Yan Muyu’s lips, then drifting to her dangling hand. “We’ve slept together plenty of times, after all.”
“That’s not the reason,” Yan Muyu said.
Qiu Chao stepped a little closer.
~~~
Yan Muyu was tall—even at seventeen, she stood out among the girls at school.
Her type got along with guys without a hint of flirtation, but she drew girls like moths to a flame.
Qiu Siyuan had been asked countless times if they were dating whenever they hung out.
It had tormented Qiu Siyuan for ages—she knew her tastes ran deeper.
Yan Muyu had joked back then, “Why don’t you get a girlfriend? Then I’d have that rumored girlfriend’s girlfriend.”
After that night at the KTV, Qiu Chao had left. She took a few days to rest, tending to her dragged wounds and bruised grips.
She wove the button she’d unexpectedly snagged into a bracelet using colorful crystal cord from the corner store—fifty cents a pack—and waited amid the after-school crowd at Beiyu Middle School for that figure who’d shared a fleeting intimacy with her.
That whole day felt like a dream.
Nightmare and sweet dream tangled together, leaving Qiu Chao with shivers of fear and floods of relief in equal measure.
But she knew the one who’d saved her belonged to a different world.
Expensive perfume, a girl’s frame in a boy’s school shirt, the Beiyu Middle School badge half-hidden by a grasshopper pin.
That pin had stung Qiu Chao’s cheeks with obsession, yet brought a sober clarity and comfort.
After late self-study, the crowd surged out, parents pulling up in cars.
Bikes, scooters, and e-bikes jammed together, horns blaring amid the chatter, a chaotic din.
Qiu Chao dug out one of her own shirts, similar in style to those from Beiyu Middle School, and pinned a butterfly brooch—given to her by her sister from the Northwest—at the spot where the school badge would go.
She wore her hair down, mimicking the Korean drama heroine hairstyles that were all the rage among girls these days, and clipped a yellow hair accessory beside her ear.
Fortunately, Yan Muyu was easy to spot. Qiu Chao found her right away.
But there was another girl standing next to her—the same one Qiu Chao had seen in the bathroom that day, the one Yan Muyu had mistakenly called out while hugging her.
Xiao Miao.
Word was her name was Wen Miao.
Qiu Chao hesitated all over again. That girl was decked out head to toe in designer labels. Sure, the school uniforms might look the same, but her shoes and bag? No contest.
The priciest pair of shoes Qiu Chao owned had cost just fifty bucks—clearance bin stuff, irregular sizes. The shopkeeper swore they were real leather, but they felt cheap as dirt.
Her hesitation turned into aimless pacing back and forth right outside the restaurant where Yan Muyu was grabbing late-night snacks. Even the stray dog by the door started eyeing her like she was a nuisance.
Right on cue, Qiu Siyuan stepped out to make a call and bumped straight into her.
She recognized Qiu Chao immediately.
The girl with the short hair had a vibe that matched Yan Muyu’s perfectly, though she was much skinnier—like some frail invalid who might blow away in a stiff breeze.
Qiu Siyuan said, “You’re the one from that day…”
That day, Qiu Chao had bolted like a rabbit, but the birthday song had blared from her alarm clock all night long.
It had been the summer solstice, the memory searing itself into her very soul.
From then on, Qiu Chao adored the summer solstice, while her own winter solstice birthday felt utterly ordinary by comparison.
Qiu Chao startled, terrified that Yan Muyu inside might hear. She shushed Qiu Siyuan frantically and dragged her behind the nearest telephone pole, acting all sneaky.
Qiu Siyuan asked, “Do you need something?”
Qiu Chao pressed her lips together. The street was packed with eateries and food stalls, a magnet for students after school.
Beiyu High didn’t keep a tight leash on boarders anyway, and girls like Yan Muyu and Qiu Siyuan—shipped off by their families—were even less restrained.
They’d been given the moon on a string already. Problem kids were a handful to manage, so the school mostly let them do as they pleased.
Qiu Chao said, “I came to say thanks.”
Qiu Siyuan went, “Oh. Well, come on in then. Not working tonight?”
Under the dim restaurant lights that day, Qiu Siyuan had only caught a quick glimpse of Qiu Chao and figured her makeup made her look like some older sister type.
Now, seeing her bare-faced, Qiu Siyuan realized she was a real beauty.
Not so much the “older sister” vibe anymore.
Qiu Chao stammered, “I…”
The very next second, a window flew open from the upstairs private room. Qiu Chao dove into the blind spot behind the pole.
Yan Muyu’s voice drifted down lazily as she called out, “Siyuan.”
Qiu Siyuan looked up. Yan Muyu said, “What, you taking that long on a call? Who’s down there?”
From Yan Muyu’s angle, all she could see was the hem of a girl’s skirt—easy to mistake for some schoolkid.
Qiu Siyuan opened her mouth to reply, but Qiu Chao signaled her to stay quiet.
Qiu Siyuan said, “It’s…”
Yan Muyu cut in, “Got it. Your girlfriend. Congrats! So, you crashing in the dorm tonight, or should I grab you a cake to celebrate?”
Her voice was smooth and clear as spring rain, her teasing tone cutting through the noisy street without losing a beat.
Qiu Siyuan protested, “No… I don’t have…”
Yan Muyu went on, “Not into cake? How about some eight-treasure rice? Or we hit up hot pot. Which class is your girlfriend in? Senpai or underclassman? Come on up and eat with us.”
She could talk the hind leg off a donkey. Qiu Siyuan couldn’t get a word in edgewise and could only glance toward Qiu Chao by the pole.
The girl she’d met just once was biting her lip, her fingers nervously picking at the rhinestone trim on her cheap crossbody bag. The bag screamed budget, and so did her shoes.
One of the plastic rhinestones popped off in Qiu Chao’s fidgeting, clattering onto her scuffed fake-leather shoe. What a mess.
Qiu Chao wanted to sink into the ground. Qiu Siyuan looked up at Yan Muyu, still leaning on the windowsill, and said, “Go drink your bone broth.”
The next instant, a syrupy-sweet girl’s voice called out, “Siyuan, hurry up! We’re playing word chain… with your girlfriend…”
Qiu Siyuan snapped, “I told you, I don’t have a girlfriend!”
She was about to wave Qiu Chao out when she realized the girl had bolted.
The street was a madhouse, crowds surging every which way, and just like that, the pretty girl vanished into the throng.
Qiu Chao still cringed at the memory of that humiliation.
She hadn’t been ready for any of it—not a single thing. She never should have been so reckless about a second meeting.
Qiu Siyuan headed back upstairs, but Yan Muyu hounded her relentlessly, determined to get the full story.
Qiu Siyuan glanced at Wen Miao, their senpai, who was busy snapping selfies with a new flip phone. She couldn’t bring herself to say you’d mistaken her that day.
Eventually, Yan Muyu gave up, figuring she wouldn’t pry anything useful out of Qiu Siyuan.
Later, Qiu Siyuan had gently probed Yan Muyu and confirmed she truly didn’t remember.
Qiu Chao had no intention of seeking out Yan Muyu again, but she’d learned her name anyway.
The day before heading off to model, she’d ambushed Qiu Siyuan outside Beiyu High—alone for once.
She’d asked for her number. Qiu Siyuan had hesitated a good long while before handing it over.
The first time Qiu Chao called Qiu Siyuan was the day she’d run into Yan Muyu while riding in Yan Kai’s car.
The voice on the other end was hoarse as she said hello.
Qiu Chao replied, “Hello, is this Qiu Siyuan?”
“It’s Qiu Chao. From the KTV that time.”
Qiu Siyuan wasn’t in the country, but she hadn’t changed her number.
It was like she had someone she couldn’t let go of, waiting for a call on that line.
Work phones came and went, but her personal one stayed the same.
Qiu Siyuan thought of the pretty girl who’d lingered downstairs that night before walking away, then of the face from her recent award win.
She said, “Oh, it’s you.”
Qiu Chao went on, “I’m living at Yan Muyu’s place now. If she mentions me, could you not bring up… back then?”
Qiu Chao didn’t specify in what capacity she was staying there, and Qiu Siyuan didn’t ask.
She didn’t dwell on it. After going abroad, she and Yan Muyu hadn’t talked as often anyway.
She just murmured agreement.
But the next day in class, a classmate pointed at the news headline on her computer: “Whoa, female celebs getting hitched to tycoons this young now?”
There was Qiu Chao—the one she’d spoken to last night.
Eighteen years old, marrying into wealth.
Was crashing at the Yan Family what that meant?
That very evening, Yan Muyu called, griping nonstop about how her brother was something else, snagging a wife even younger than her.
After the rambling tirade, Qiu Siyuan couldn’t hold back: “You really don’t remember her?”
Yan Muyu asked, “You know her?”
She even joked, “Don’t tell me you dated her. I seem to recall you had a thing back in high school…”
Qiu Siyuan denied it. “No, I didn’t.”
She recalled Qiu Chao’s look that day, and her flustered state at their first meeting. It wasn’t hard to guess.
She liked Yan Muyu.
Back then: insecure, timid, dirt-poor. Now: confident, radiant, worth millions.
Polar opposites, except her new status was a bit much.
Almost-sister-in-law.
Qiu Siyuan started wondering if anything would come of these two.
Would Yan Muyu—live-for-today, wine-today-drunk-today—fall into such a calculated snare?
~~~
Moths danced around the streetlamp. In the livestream’s wide shot, Qiu Chao looked like she was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Yan Muyu—almost a perfect match, even.
The ideal height difference: Yan Muyu could pull her right into an embrace with one arm.
Qiu Chao had acted opposite plenty of male leads, but she’d never been the romantic interest herself.
Now, her gaze drifted far away, barely registering Yan Muyu’s words that it wasn’t for that reason.
She asked, word by word, “Would dating me really make you so miserable?”
