Chapter 61: Sick Part 2

Xia Yuanyuan had come upstairs at some point, carrying a hot water bottle.

When Yan Muyu turned to look, Xia Yuanyuan said, “Good thing I was here to keep an eye on Sister Qiu.”

She still didn’t quite trust Yan Muyu’s reliability. “The director told me the cameras are off.”

Yan Muyu replied, “I had them turned off.”

Her hand lingered on Qiu Chao’s forehead, but as she started to pull it away, someone grasped it.

Qiu Chao’s nose was sharper than a dog’s—she could sense who it was even with her eyes closed.

“Little Yan.”

Xia Yuanyuan got goosebumps all over. She thought back to Li Xi’s earlier jab.

It really was that sappy.

Qiu Chao never called anyone else “Little” anything like that.

Her favoritism toward Yan Muyu was plain as day.

On this stormy summer night, the rain battered the old glass windows, driven by the wind.

The wooden frames had gaps, letting drafts seep in even when shut tight.

The breeze set the beaded curtain clattering, its crisp notes clashing sharply with the faint whimpers rising from Qiu Chao’s throat.

Qiu Chao still seemed to be in a lot of discomfort.

Yan Muyu asked, “Should I take you to the hospital?”

The weather was awful today, and there were no cars on these mountain roads.

The villagers, who had lived here for generations, knew exactly when it was safe to head out.

Even the tea pickers had scurried home in the downpour, turning this into a rare day of rest.

Before Qiu Chao could respond, Xia Yuanyuan blurted anxiously, “Driving now would be way too dangerous.”

Qiu Siyuan wasn’t trying to come down the mountain—the road conditions were totally different. There was only one winding mountain highway from the village to the county seat.

Yan Muyu’s hand was still held fast by Qiu Chao. It slid down from her forehead, palm brushing her cheek, until Qiu Chao guided it to her chest—like handling a priceless treasure.

It was a kind of instinctive attachment that Yan Muyu rarely felt.

Yan Muyu said, “That’s not for you to worry about.”

“I’ll always get her there safely.”

But right after Yan Muyu spoke, Qiu Chao murmured a refusal.

Her body was still unnaturally warm, yet she clutched Yan Muyu’s hand tightly, her brows furrowing as if she hadn’t fully woken.

Then she called out “Mom” in a choked voice.

A tearful “Don’t go.”

Qiu Chao’s vulnerability was a rare sight—even Xia Yuanyuan had never witnessed it.

She’d been with Qiu Chao for years and always felt like she was following a bold general conquering new frontiers.

Qiu Chao was confident and radiant, lonely in private but never pitiful.

Xia Yuanyuan knew Qiu Chao’s past had been rough, but not the specifics—what kind of rough, exactly.

Even Mai Chen didn’t know the full story.

They were just temporary collaborators, but Yan Muyu was different.

She seemed like the driftwood Qiu Chao had clutched in her sea of suffering, trying to claim it for herself, to make it hers alone.

Yet she’d forgotten that clinging to driftwood meant not just survival, but endless drifting too.

Yan Muyu leaned down and called out to Qiu Chao.

To Xia Yuanyuan’s ears, that slightly hoarse voice from the cold carried an unbelievable tenderness.

Mai Chen had asked Xia Yuanyuan several times how things were progressing between Qiu Chao and Yan Muyu.

Qiu Chao never said much, and Xia Yuanyuan couldn’t tell much just from watching.

She didn’t understand why love had to hurt so much—it made her own romance seem shallow, lacking that bone-deep intensity, downright vulgar even.

But Qiu Chao was also so happy. Xia Yuanyuan could feel her thrill every day.

It was an emotion Qiu Chao never showed in her work mode.

Did Qiu Chao even like acting?

Probably not.

She just liked the money.

Her real affection seemed reserved for Yan Muyu, from start to finish.

It was worrying—she might end up like some of those veteran female stars.

Rising to stardom only to crash, love too deep to last.

Yan Muyu asked, “You okay?”

She whispered in Qiu Chao’s ear, “Want to go to the hospital?”

Qiu Chao hadn’t been sick in ages.

She was always meticulous about her health, knowing how much illness could derail her career.

This industry ran on looks and figure, demanding extreme discipline—she handled it all.

Mai Chen always said Qiu Chao was the most resilient artist she’d ever managed.

As if she didn’t know the meaning of indulgence.

After wrapping a shoot, she never hit the clubs, raced cars, hired escorts, gambled—none of it.

Qiu Chao’s post-wrap vacations were spent prepping nonstop for the next gig.

She was like a spinning lantern that never stopped, painting herself in vibrant colors to fend off the dull darkness ahead.

Those flashing hues were her fleeting moods—seemingly colorful, but always underpinned by gloom.

Yet her dreams revealed her true heart.

A childhood home, doting grandparents, a beautiful mother and honest father, anticipation for a little sister’s birth.

Everything so perfect.

But then—

It all ended too soon.

As if Qiu Chao was fated from birth to a life of wandering, gaining only to lose.

Bound by the chains of youth, unable to protect her mother or sister.

In the end, her mother protected her—but Qiu Chao never saw that final glance.

Couldn’t even close her eyes for her.

Her sister was adopted into a life that wasn’t great, but Qiu Chao knew it beat staying with her.

At least Qiu Chao could earn money now, send her sister pocket cash.

Let her buy whatever she wanted—stickers and hair clips that kids her age loved.

As for herself.

Discount clearance shoes billed as real leather but falling apart.

Knockoff bags decked with cheap plastic pearls.

Qiu Chao had met Yan Muyu at the worst possible age, dressed in nothing glamorous—utterly mismatched.

That inferiority complex hit even though she knew she shouldn’t feel it; she just couldn’t stop.

Like an unstoppable burp after chugging soda, belly full and bubbling.

Even later, when Qiu Chao had money for custom luxury shoes and pearl handbags…

She couldn’t rewind time, couldn’t erase that moment when Yan Muyu pushed open the window and saw her in panic.

Her heart felt like it would leap out.

She thought: Is this person so dazzling that I’m only fit to lurk in the shadow of a utility pole?

I want to be the moon in the sky too.

So when she sees me again, she’ll praise my unparalleled beauty.

But why is it good that Yan Muyu forgot that wretched version of me?

It still hurts so much.

Qiu Chao seemed to slip back to that day—the noisy street, puzzled Qiu Siyuan, teasing Yan Muyu.

She murmured a hazy “ah,” sensing Yan Muyu’s voice had changed.

Yan Muyu asked again, “Feeling really bad?”

Qiu Chao cracked her eyes open a sliver. Her lashes were wet with tears, trembling like a flower bud nearly bowed by morning dew.

Qiu Chao let out a soft “mm.”

Yan Muyu said, “Then let’s go to the hospital. I’ll get someone to call a car.”

In that moment, she switched to a decisive efficiency that clashed with her earlier gentleness, making her on-camera easygoing seem like an act.

Even Xia Yuanyuan was stunned by Yan Muyu’s shift.

How could someone have so many sides?

But this version of Yan Muyu exuded an extraordinary reliability, like someone you could lean on completely.

Qiu Chao said, “No.”

She started to roll over but wouldn’t let go of Yan Muyu’s hand, tugging her closer instead.

Yan Muyu had to brace herself with one arm overhead. “Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

Qiu Chao closed her eyes. “A good sleep will fix it.”

The rain outside poured harder, its roar echoing through the room—loud enough for Yan Muyu, held close in Qiu Chao’s arms, to feel the thunderous beat of her heart. Longlong.

Yan Muyu said, “What if you run a higher fever tomorrow and end up a vegetable? What then?”

Xia Yuanyuan, standing just outside the door, thought Yan Muyu’s mouth was better kept shut.

Qiu Chao replied, “Then you’ll have to take responsibility.”

Yan Muyu let out a sigh. “Then go to sleep.”

“You woke me up,” Qiu Chao said.

“I’m concerned about you,” Yan Muyu replied.

Qiu Chao let out an “oh.”

She rolled back over, nearly tumbling off the edge of the bed, but with uncanny precision, she hooked her arm around Yan Muyu’s pajama top.

She must have been truly weak in the limbs, because her voice lacked its usual energy.

“Then I’m going to sleep.”

“Watch me sleep,” Qiu Chao added.

Yan Muyu had no other choice but to give in.

Xia Yuanyuan closed the door, finally understanding what Qiu Chao had meant earlier when she said Yan Muyu was “great.”

This variety show made it all too easy to glimpse a guest’s true colors. Even the strongest scripts couldn’t fully control a reality show once it went live.

Yet Pastoral Idyll had avoided all the scandals and meltdowns that netizens had predicted.

When these female celebrities gathered, even their bickering carried no real bite—like everyday dorm room chatter.

Any undercurrents never dragged on too long, always overshadowed by some new event, though the aftertaste lingered endlessly.

Yan Muyu might come across as harsh on the surface, but the thoughtfulness deep in her bones shone through no matter what.

She treated everyone equally, her respect and tolerance plain to see. Being around someone like her brought no pressure at all.

But if you actually liked her, you’d find yourself craving more.

Xia Yuanyuan wondered: Was Qiu Chao satisfied now?

Had she joined Whale Entertainment and drawn this variety show precisely because she foresaw she could fully win Yan Muyu over in these twenty days?

But it went far beyond twenty days.

There were the ten years before that, the four years prior, and who knew how much longer she’d been carrying this.

A person could harbor many kinds of feelings, and Qiu Chao had been liked by plenty of people. She’d even tried responding to that affection, starting new romances.

In the end, though, nothing could rival the first heartbeat of youth—that love at first sight meant to last a lifetime, right up until death.

Yan Muyu stayed by Qiu Chao’s side as she slept, gazing at her old acquaintance with her eyes closed under the faint glow of the bedside lamp.

They’d shared moments like this before, but this was the first time in years that Yan Muyu had seen Qiu Chao sick.

Back when she was on track to become Yan Muyu’s sister-in-law, Qiu Chao had always been meticulous about her health. She looked as delicate and vibrant as a rose, born into luxury, but at heart, she was a born worrier who had to handle everything herself.

Cooking, watering flowers, picking grapes…

Even on vacation, she stuck to her exercise routine and followed her schedule to the letter. If Yan Muyu disrupted her plans, she’d make up for it the very next day.

Yan Muyu had watched her treat vacations like they weren’t vacations at all, staying just as busy.

Practicing her posture, running lines, studying endlessly.

If overnight fame was just luck, then Qiu Chao’s enduring success could only be chalked up to her own relentless effort.

Yan Muyu didn’t know when she’d drifted off.

But she was jolted awake in the middle of the night by Qiu Chao’s touch.

Yan Muyu was still slumped over the bedside, but Qiu Chao was awake now. Her hand caressed Yan Muyu’s face, sending a shiver down her spine.

Qiu Chao looked far more alert than before, though still not quite herself.

She flashed Yan Muyu a smile. “Awake?”

“Why are you touching my face?” Yan Muyu grumbled. “You couldn’t even move me onto the bed.”

“I couldn’t lift you,” Qiu Chao said. “But we could sleep on the floor together.”

Yan Muyu was speechless.

She stood up and twisted her neck, noting that the rain outside had lightened considerably.

It was three in the morning. Everything was deathly quiet.

“Can you kiss me?” Qiu Chao asked.

She was utterly shameless. “Kissing you while you’re asleep just isn’t any fun.”

The female star’s long hair cascaded to her waist. Her soft, boneless hands seized Yan Muyu’s dangling one and shook it playfully, with a touch of deliberate childishness.

But at its core, it was pure seduction.

“I want to sleep,” Yan Muyu said.

“No work tomorrow,” Qiu Chao pointed out.

“Live streaming is work.”

“Then kiss me a few more times.”

Yan Muyu laughed. “Then what’s with sucking on my finger? That’s not what ‘a few kisses’ means, is it?”