It wasn’t until nearly the end of the broadcast that Qiu Siyuan announced the next arrangements.
Nothing more than drawing lots again. Yan Muyu went numb, staring at the words “Herd Sheep” above for a long time without a word.
The happiest was Xi Xi. She finally didn’t have to pick cow dung anymore.
The rich young lady hadn’t carried her usual fragrant scent these past two days. Instead, she reeked of medicinal plasters that screamed “health tonic.”
While Liu Song was video-calling to pass on the Duck Whistle technique to Qiu Chao, Yan Muyu slipped off for a shower.
Once the live stream shut down, everyone looked far more relaxed.
This kind of round-the-clock broadcasting really tested the guests’ mental resilience. At times like this, assistants delivered the celebrities’ essentials, and the group would stand around chatting idly.
Xing Wen sidled up to Yan Muyu. “Young Boss Yan, want me to bandage that wound for you?”
Yan Muyu shook her head. “No need. If it’s really bad, I can always call the team doctor.”
Xing Wen murmured an “Oh.”
Yan Muyu had just showered, steam still wafting from her skin. She’d given her hair a quick towel-dry but hadn’t bothered finishing the job.
Her hair wasn’t long to begin with; the ends snagged in the hollow of her shoulder, leaving dark wet patches.
Yan Muyu glanced down at her hand but didn’t dwell on it.
She accepted the medicinal solution from Xing Wen and headed to the stone bench in the courtyard to tend to the injury.
Qiu Siyuan had just wrapped up a word with the assistant director. No matter the angle, something seemed off about her—wearing a jacket in the dead of summer.
Once Yan Muyu sat down, she asked, “So what’s the deal with you? Can’t handle a breeze?”
Qiu Siyuan replied, “I told you, it’s an old problem. Why do you keep asking?”
Yan Muyu said, “Just caring about you. Wouldn’t want you missing out on a bikini and some clubbing.”
Qiu Siyuan let out a chuckle. She unscrewed her thermos for a sip of hot water, tilting her head to watch Yan Muyu apply the medicine herself. “I’m not the bikini type.”
Yan Muyu nodded. “Fair enough. I hear they even do special bikini line shaping these days—such a hassle.”
Qiu Siyuan landed a light punch on her. “Quit it. Doesn’t your beauty salon handle that stuff?”
Yan Muyu’s cotton swab wavered, nearly jabbing the wound. “Hey, I’m trying to medicate here.”
Qiu Siyuan teased, “Should I have Qiu Chao do it for you?”
The medicine-soaked swab traced a brown line across Yan Muyu’s palm, like an iron nail ripping through the fate line she’d etched for herself.
It compelled Yan Muyu to rewrite the rules she’d imposed on herself—unwittingly scripting someone else’s future in the process.
Yan Muyu pressed, “Still not telling me how you two know each other?”
She hated beating around the bush. Getting tangled up with someone like Qiu Chao was completely out of character for her old self.
The staff milling about now knew enough to steer clear of interrupting the director and the boss.
Xing Wen stood off to one side, jotting down the day’s work summary and firing off a report to Lou Haiyan.
In her peripheral vision, her boss hunched over, absentmindedly doctoring the wound. Even the floral pajamas couldn’t make Yan Muyu look tacky or dowdy.
This woman had zero connection to the prior two messes, yet here she sat with Qiu Siyuan—their shadows blending on the ground like one. It reminded Xing Wen of those childhood photos of the pair that netizens had dug up and dissected.
Childhood friends. So why didn’t Young Boss Yan know Director Qiu and Miss Qiu Chao were acquainted?
Qiu Siyuan asked, “That curious, huh?”
She took another sip of warm water. Yan Muyu caught the goji berry whiff from the thermos and couldn’t resist warning, “Watch it, or that cup’ll explode.”
Qiu Siyuan laughed. “Getting picky now?”
Yan Muyu demanded, “Spill it or not?”
Qiu Siyuan said, “Not yet. Timing’s off.”
Yan Muyu shot back, “Then when? Don’t think director status saves you from me chewing you out.”
Qiu Siyuan remained smug. The ear piercings they’d gotten together in school were unchanged, though Qiu Siyuan favored gaudy studs while Yan Muyu went minimalist.
Somehow, their tastes had flipped.
Qiu Siyuan said, “Forget it—you’re terrible at trash-talk.”
She sighed. “Not even as good as Qiu Chao at swearing.”
Yan Muyu ventured, “Lin Chi, that sister of mine—remember her?”
The sudden pivot stunned Qiu Siyuan. After a beat, she recalled and murmured, “Oh.”
“That one with the wheat-toned skin.”
Yan Muyu continued, “She said she saw you with Qiu Chao once.”
Qiu Siyuan clarified, “Saw us how? I’m not interested in her.”
Yan Muyu countered, “Getting defensive?”
Qiu Siyuan eyed her leisurely. “You’re the defensive one.”
Her tomorrow’s schedule lay before her. Back in school, this girl excelled at planning and data crunching. Desk-mate Yan Muyu back then figured Qiu Siyuan was academia-bound.
Who could’ve guessed she’d dive into directing—reality TV, no less, worlds apart.
Yan Muyu insisted, “I’m not defensive!”
Unaware she’d raised her voice, she drew glances from the crew rigging tomorrow’s lights.
Yan Muyu sighed.
Qiu Siyuan probed, “Qiu Chao confessed to you?”
Yan Muyu conceded, “Sharp as ever, Director Qiu.”
Qiu Siyuan said, “She cleared it with me first. Otherwise, the audience would’ve caught it.”
Blunt as ever, she dangled just enough to needle Yan Muyu—clearly delighted by her rattled state, capping it with a chuckle.
Qiu Siyuan pressed, “And? You say yes?”
Yan Muyu faltered. “I…”
The palm scar looked gruesome. Days later, it still prickled with faint pain and itch.
Much like the sensation Qiu Chao stirred in her—like Qiu Chao felt it too.
Qiu Siyuan ventured, “Heard you lost a girlfriend before?”
They rarely messaged, but social feeds crossed paths.
Qiu Siyuan stayed low-profile; few knew her account, barren of personal shots.
Yan Muyu flashed brighter but tossed occasional likes their way.
Like Yan Muyu’s funeral post that day—sky shot and caption.
Qiu Siyuan had held off prying solo. Atmosphere right now, she tested the waters.
Yan Muyu confirmed, “Yeah.”
The knot lingered. Intellectually, Xu Xue’s death had zilch to do with Qiu Chao. But tradition’s “dead above all” clogged her chest.
Love had been black-and-white then; now guilt festered.
Yan Muyu sifted through the tale for Qiu Siyuan, sharing bits.
Old wounds best drowned in booze, but tonight’s courtyard breeze was crisp. Inside, Xi Xi hustled Liu Song to bed, nixing selfie filter trials with Ding Yingxue.
Pei Wan stepped out to wash up, spotting Yan Muyu deep in talk with Qiu Siyuan.
She lingered at a distance, yet Yan Muyu’s heavy expression hit home.
Stars blazed tonight. Pei Wan snapped a pic.
Instantly, her lock screen pinged: Ding Yingxue. Sis, Mom’s lining up another blind date for you.
Ding Yingxue: She asked if you like guys or girls. Haven’t replied.
Pei Wan blanked on a response.
Love held scant appeal; Yan Muyu had pegged her right on sight. Pei Wan, eternal school flower, drew admirers of every stripe—none worth reciprocating.
Agent life shadowing Ding Yingxue’s shoots soured it further: love as staged illusion.
Showbiz “soulmates” strayed solo, imploded later.
What merited reckless dive?
This variety show dumped Qiu Chao in her lap.
The woman burned fervent, masks off.
Screens buffered viewers; housemates witnessed raw.
Xi Xi lobbed sly digs; Pei Wan played cool, cataloging all.
Right now, a glance up showed Qiu Chao—relocated to the Little Mud House’s second floor—propped at the window, eyes on courtyard Yan Muyu.
Long hair tumbled free; production’s ethnic pajamas couldn’t dim her magnetism.
Shacked in the ramshackle Little Mud House, she evoked balcony wind-listener poise.
That antique beaded curtain, post-wash gleam maxed, fluttered—teasing glimpses of her gifted beauty, elegance unfurled.
Yet her stare scorched, jolting bystander Pei Wan.
Why crave Yan Muyu so fiercely?
Those four Yan Family cohab years alone?
Qiu Siyuan, post-recap, wore regret but queried, “You blame Qiu Chao?”
Yan Muyu shook her head. “She’s not the type.”
Qiu Siyuan pursued, “Guilt-tripping over Xu Xue then?”
She pursed her lips. “For not backing your girlfriend?”
Xu Xue’s note spelled it plain—but logic’s one beast, heart’s snag another.
Yan Muyu murmured, “I still feel like…”
Qiu Siyuan cut in, “Yet you greenlit trying with her. Why?”
Yan Muyu inhaled sharply. “She blabs everything to you?”
Qiu Siyuan grinned. “Jealous? Pointless. No spark either way.”
She shrugged. “Leaves room for you.”
Yan Muyu’s face knotted further. “You…”
Qiu Siyuan shrugged anew. “Romance on reality TV? Cue shot reshuffles.”
She groaned, “Painful. Mute-mic moments galore. Face it—I’m just Boss Yan’s overworked wage slave.”
The silver-haired woman laughed with a teasing glint in her eye, but after all, the two of them were childhood friends. Even sitting together like this brought back the vibe of skipping class to hang out back in the day.
Yan Muyu let out a sigh. “I just feel so…”
She trailed off again, unable to find the words. Resting her face on her arms, she slumped over onto the stone table.
Qiu Siyuan chuckled and patted her back. “Aren’t you the one who loves following your heart? This choice was yours, so give it a shot.”
The comfort was genuine enough, but Yan Muyu couldn’t shake the feeling that it carried a hint of schadenfreude, like Qiu Siyuan was just watching the show.
Yan Muyu narrowed her eyes. “Did you plan this?”
Qiu Siyuan grinned. “Nope, I’m just the sidekick.”
She wasn’t fazed by Yan Muyu’s glare at all. With a playful lift of her eyes, she gestured for Yan Muyu to look up.
Yan Muyu frowned. “What now?”
But she followed the cue anyway, glancing over. There, at the second-floor window, someone was leaning out, cupping her face as she watched them.
Qiu Chao’s eyes crinkled with laughter, her usual icy glamour from the stream completely gone. For some reason, it gave Yan Muyu the odd illusion that she looked like a little sister.
Qiu Chao really was the little sister type, though most people struggled to slap that label on her.
She had never gone through an awkward, green phase. From the start, she’d been mature and alluring, turning more heads with every passing year.
Qiu Siyuan nodded toward her. “She’s waiting for you.”
Yan Muyu huffed. “So you’re that eager to shove me into the spider’s lair?”
Qiu Siyuan burst out laughing at the metaphor. “You loosened the reins yourself.”
She shrugged. “Besides, no one can force you to do something you don’t want.”
Her old friend’s tone dripped with mockery. “Xiaoxiao, you’ve already…”
She paused, then dropped the three words: “surrendered.”
Yan Muyu took a deep breath. She badly wanted to pinch that smug, gloating face of Qiu Siyuan’s, but she let it go.
Qiu Siyuan gave her a nudge. “Go on.”
Yan Muyu instinctively glanced up again. Qiu Chao was still watching her, her gaze as if it had melted the bright moon overhead, full of sincere affection.
It was enough to make Yan Muyu avert her eyes in a fluster, unable to hold the stare.
Qiu Siyuan just poured fuel on the fire. “Have a wonderful night.”
Yan Muyu’s temper flared hotter. “Then how about you try not waking people up at five in the morning for once.”
Her voice carried a bit, drawing even Xing Wen’s attention.
Xing Wen pondered for a moment, then added a line to the work summary she was sending Lou Haiyan: Young Boss Yan’s emotions are pretty volatile—might need to pick up some calming herbs for her.
~~~
After going off-stream, Xi Xi had someone give her a full spa treatment.
