Chapter 69: A Warm Invitation Part 1

When Qiu Chao woke up the next day, she discovered there was no one lying beside her.

She picked up her phone and checked it first.

There were many unread messages, and the camera in the room wasn’t on either.

The top one was from Xia Yuanyuan.

[Sister Qiu, the director said that if you’re still not feeling well, you can rest some more. The live stream’s been shut off for now.]

[Young Boss Yan had something to attend to and headed back.]

Qiu Chao froze for a moment.

Headed back?

Her first reaction was that Yan Kai had woken up—or that Yan Tianxing had run into trouble.

The Yan Family might be a powerhouse of high society, but its internal structure was actually quite straightforward.

At least, back when Qiu Chao had struck that deal with Yan Kai, the entire family was already firmly under his control. All those mistresses the tabloids loved to harp on had been dealt with decisively. There was virtually no chance of any drama, and Yan Kai even had his own father eating out of his hand.

The media had hyped it up endlessly, proclaiming it as ironclad proof that Yan Kai intended to marry her.

Qiu Chao knew better. She didn’t even qualify as a proper stand-in—not on the level of some pampered canary like Wanwan Leiqing.

Because Yan Kai never wavered. From start to finish, his sole aim had been to catch a single glance from Zhen Shu.

What existed between them was purely a transaction: her fast track to success, his gambit for a flicker of emotional reciprocation.

Sadly, Yan Kai had come up empty.

Yan Muyu’s kindness toward her back then had carried hopes for the family’s future as well.

Hopes that Yan Kai would come to his senses, recognize the value in those around him, and stop torturing himself over a phantom emotion.

At its core, it boiled down to this: People like us rarely get what we crave. Unions of equal standing, measured in precise calculations—what was love against resources, forever the true currency?

In an age that preached free romance, such freedom proved rarer than gold, leaving people helpless, their pillows soaked with midnight tears, bereft even of a simple promise.

Qiu Chao understood exactly why Yan Muyu was the way she was.

Her father chased skirts endlessly, toying with women for sport. Her mother was naive to the point of folly, deluding herself with dreams of true love.

Her eldest brother’s affair had played by all the rules, only to crumble before harsh reality.

They were glaring cautionary tales. And even Yan Kai’s gentle affection, coupled with his diligent fulfillment of a business marriage’s obligations, couldn’t change that.

Perhaps the Yan Family bloodline simply lacked the gene for enduring love. Better to cut losses.

No investment, no love, no pain.

Boiled down, Yan Muyu was just a scared kid terrified of hurt.

And oddly enough, that rang true.

Qiu Chao tapped open Yan Muyu’s chat.

The profile picture changed constantly, restless as ever—today a dog, tomorrow an oil painting of cats, a mishmash of random snaps.

The ID stayed consistent: that foreign handle.

[My brother woke up. I’m heading back to check on him.]

[Work’s no issue. Qiu Siyuan will sort it.]

She wasn’t nearly as loquacious here as on stream. Her exchanges with Qiu Chao carried zero banter.

Maybe because their first encounter hadn’t been ideal, always tinged with an offbeat flavor unlike normal bonds.

Qiu Chao sent back a simple “Okay.”

No instant reply from Yan Muyu.

Qiu Chao pulled up Weibo, where the show’s official account had posted the update.

—Due to guest Yan Muyu having urgent business, her live stream segment is on hold.

Ms. Qiu Chao’s health requires further rest, so the past two days’ content will be rescheduled.

The comments were filled with fans’ supportive understanding, peppered with questions about Yan Muyu’s abrupt disappearance.

The rest of the cast pressed on with post-rain village tasks per the production team’s plans, while Qiu Chao curled up upstairs to recuperate.

It was a rare slice of unhurried life for her, broken only by occasional calls to Qiu Yuan.

Qiu Yuan brewed tea on her end; Qiu Chao stared idly out the window on this one.

The waits for Yan Muyu from days past suddenly felt tangible, distilled into this pinpoint ache of longing.

In the end, she couldn’t resist. That evening, she dialed Yan Muyu.

No answer. Over an hour later came a voice reply.

Yan Muyu was still at the hospital, having just fetched Lin Yumian from the wellness center.

Yan Kai had woken, all right, but his condition remained shaky. True to form, the workaholic had summoned his inner circle the instant his eyes fluttered open.

Yan Muyu left him be. Back in town, she’d first scooped up Yan Tianxing, then headed to retrieve Lin Yumian.

She’d found Lin Yumian deep in a mahjong game.

The club’s tabs ran sky-high, enough to bankrupt an average household for years.

Rich wives clustered there—widows, cheated-on spouses, every stripe imaginable—flanked by barely dressed, sultry male dealers. Yan Muyu’s lip twitched; thank goodness she’d left Yan Tianxing outside.

Lin Yumian’s game was trash, matching Yan Muyu’s own lousy skills. She was the table’s resident mark.

The Yan Family had cash to burn and watchdogs monitoring Lin Yumian’s spending to thwart cons, so risks stayed minimal.

This hardly resembled motherhood, though. Yan Muyu’s entrance plunged the room into hush.

Who at the table didn’t know Yan Muyu?

The Yan Family’s big and little scions: the elder somewhat gentle and unassuming, the younger a wild card from the cradle.

Lin Yumian could unleash hysterics on Yan Kai, but never dared cross Yan Muyu.

The others froze mid-motion; Lin Yumian, clueless, kept her hand glued to the dealer’s, lost in the feel.

The dealer—a college-boy type in slutty getup—made Yan Muyu’s eyes water. Good thing she wasn’t straight.

Clearly Lin Chi’s kind of spot.

Yan Muyu stayed silent, but her tablemates cracked first. “Yumian, your daughter’s here.”

Lin Yumian yelped an “Ah?” It took her a beat to process, but she glanced sidelong as the others did.

There stood her freakishly tall daughter—who’d towered over every girl gang since childhood—eyeing her with ice.

Lin Yumian yanked her hand back and flashed a smile at Yan Muyu. “Mu… Muyu.”

The other ladies clammed up; Yan Muyu looked spoiling for a fight, liable to upend the table.

Yan Muyu: “Let’s go.”

Lin Yumian: “Huh? Go where?”

Yan Muyu hauled her mom upright. “Cards or man-chasing? Ever check your phone? Do-not-disturb again?”

Her words crackled like firecrackers, fury thick in the air. “Where’s your assistant?”

Lin Yumian: “Sent her home to rest.”

Yan Muyu frog-marched her out. The club’s testosterone overload stung her eyes. “Resting here, huh?”

Lin Yumian neared sixty but passed for far younger; distant view, killer figure; close up, just pronounced laugh lines.

Pampered from birth, her voice dripped syrupy whine.

Lin Yumian: “Hey, don’t yank so hard—it hurts!”

Yan Muyu bundled her roughly into the car and slammed the door.

Passenger-seat Yan Tianxing, mid-ice-cream lick, twisted around. “Hi, Grandma.”

Lin Yumian: “Oh, Little Xing’s here too.”

Yan Muyu clicked her seatbelt. “Big Brother’s awake. Hospital with me.”

Lin Yumian said, “Oh.” After a delayed spark of realization, she added, “Yan Kai’s up?”

Yan Muyu: “Yep. What, you think I’d hunt you down for fun?”

Lin Yumian: “Me showing up won’t fix him any.”

Her tone was peak petulance, straight out of a CEO-wife novel.

Too bad her groom scraped “domineering CEO” status without the novels’ obsessive loyalty or transformative devotion.

Cue endless tears for the pampered wife, blaming her looks—pregnancy plastics sprees included.

Yan Muyu had burned out her anger. Lin Yumian inhabited a bubble world, zero grasp of propriety even now.

Yan Tianxing: “Grandma’s gotta make an appearance, though. Reporters are swarming.”

Lin Yumian gasped, fumbling a mirror from her purse. “Gotta prep then! Muyu, why not call sooner?”

Yan Muyu had logged a full day behind the wheel, grit and exhaustion clinging like dust. Neither carmate offered solace.

At a red light, she massaged her brow. “See the timestamp on my message.”

Lin Yumian: “Oh right, weren’t you filming? When’d you roll in?”

Yan Tianxing eyed Yan Muyu’s face, clocking the foul mood, and turned to Lin Yumian. “Little Aunt got here this afternoon. Hasn’t eaten a bite.”

Lin Yumian whiffed it. “Me neither.”

Dusk fell, sun dipping westward.

Skyscrapers hemmed the crawling traffic, lending Yan Muyu at the helm an otherworldly disconnect.

With her eyes shut, the village mud hut resurfaced in her mind, along with the night winds through the mountains, the window-framing bamboo, and the rail-leaned gaze upon her…

Qiu Chao.

Had her health mended at all?

Away from that haven, woes crashed back—corporate, familial.

All hers to bear.

No dodging them, just this groundless sorrow.

How brief the respite? Under half a year, and she teetered. Big Brother’s years of it beggared belief.

Couldn’t Mom spare a thought for home?

Dad’s betrayal scarred her, not theirs. How does one tune out a decade?

Yan Tianxing: “As if. Club nibbles are top-shelf.”

The little girl’s voice still carried a childish lilt. Yan Muyu couldn’t be bothered with her own mother, who was touching up her makeup in the back seat. Instead, she asked Yan Tianxing, “How have you been lately? Is the tutor working out okay?”

Yan Tianxing still refused to go to school, but she didn’t have much reaction to her own father, Su Xing, either. Yan Kai seemed like little more than a vaguely familiar stranger to her.

That was the Yan Family for you—cold indifference passed down through the generations.

The kids who grew up treated that way still had no idea how to handle their own children.

Yan Muyu could only be grateful that Yan Kai wasn’t like his father. She was thankful she hadn’t turned into a hopeless romantic rich girl like Lin Yumian.

Yan Tianxing said, “Eh, same as always. Don’t you read the summaries the tutor writes every day, Little Aunt? I do my homework, you know.”

The little girl didn’t seem to have many friends and preferred playing games instead.

Yan Muyu had never liked the social circles either—all that careful selection based on well-matched families, where every motive boiled down to personal gain.

Back then, Yan Kai had let her go her own wild way, and the friends she’d made were all the same sort. Naturally, she wouldn’t impose any different expectations on Yan Tianxing.

Yan Muyu said, “Fine, just checking. Later, you go straight up the back entrance with Sister Lou.”

Yan Tianxing asked, “There are really that many reporters?”

Yan Muyu replied, “Not that many, but word always leaks out. There’ll be some.”

No sooner had she spoken than Lin Yumian let out a shriek from the back. “Where’s my setting powder?!”

Yan Muyu didn’t even bother glancing in the rearview mirror. Lin Yumian undoubtedly wore an expression of utter devastation.

Yan Tianxing glanced over. “Grandma, you already look so young. You don’t need to fuss anymore.”

Lin Yumian shot back, “You’ll understand when you reach my age.”

Yan Tianxing muttered under her breath, “Why’d you even get a boob job, then…”

Yan Muyu: …

She drove on in silence until they reached the hospital. There, Lou Haiyan took Yan Tianxing up, while Yan Muyu handled the reporters alongside Lin Yumian.

Lin Yumian could just play the role of delicate wallflower, after all. She was still technically Mrs. Yan of the Yan Family.

That evening, Qiu Chao made a brief appearance on camera to do some work. Afterward, she helped Pei Wan prepare dinner and listened as Li Xi picked out tracks.

The Fish Lamp still sat in the living room hall, alongside a scaled-down version everyone had made together. It actually looked pretty cute.