Chapter 71: Love Even If Missed Part 1

Yan Muyu looked a bit disheveled. If it were just the usual dirt and grime from a day’s work up on the mountain, there would have been nothing strange about it.

But she had come back from outside, and that made her disheveled state seem rather unusual.

Ding Yingxue had never seen fireflies before in her life. As she stared at the ones cupped in Qiu Chao’s hands, her eyes all but screamed, “I want them so bad I could cry.”

Liu Song was still playing the piano—a perfect ambiance setter, providing background music that fit Qiu Chao and Yan Muyu’s locked gazes so seamlessly it needed no post-production tweaks.

The live stream’s camera angles rotated through the group, making sure the viewers could catch every expression on each face.

The atmosphere of them all gathered together was too idyllic, enough to make anyone rise to their feet without thinking, enough for the person next to them to give that extra nudge.

Xi Xi said, “She’s already brought you the fireflies you wanted. Aren’t you going to go greet her, Qiu Chao?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Liu Song nodded vigorously from the side. “Exactly, exactly.”

Qiu Chao stood up. Yan Muyu wheeled her suitcase over and asked her, “Is your cold better?”

Xi Xi chimed in, “It has to be better by now, right?”

That mouth of hers was just begging for a swat—even Liu Song couldn’t resist tugging at Xi Xi.

Yan Muyu didn’t snap back. Her hair was a little messy, after all.

Off-camera, Xing Wen looked pretty disheveled too. Who went around catching fireflies by the roadside late at night, anyway?

But Xing Wen, who had grown up in the city, had never seen fireflies before either. She snapped a ton of photos.

She even managed to capture Yan Muyu in a few.

The car’s headlights weren’t all that bright in the dark, just enough to outline their boss’s silhouette amid the twinkling firefly glow—and somehow, it came off looking rather tender.

Xing Wen hadn’t expected to see Yan Muyu like this.

She had thought it was just a sudden whim at the time, but now the truth was plain as day.

It was all for Qiu Chao.

So, had things changed between them?

Before, the tension had been so thick that their relationship felt utterly inscrutable to everyone.

Xing Wen suddenly found herself wondering: Had any of Yan Muyu’s previous girlfriends seen this side of her?

The woman was undeniably gentle.

But her gentleness was too all-encompassing, generous enough to breed insecurity—like she could move mountains and fill seas for you, yet never stick around till the end.

Had Qiu Chao managed to catch hold of that fleeting breeze?

There were mud flecks on Yan Muyu’s pants.

Nights down by the mountain stream weren’t safe, even with escorts along. Mosquitoes swarmed everywhere, and heaven knew what else hid in the grass.

Yan Muyu only realized she might have lost her mind after she’d already made her way down there.

Her past relationships had always been like morning dew.

Sure, there had been late-night joyrides chasing sunsets by the sea, but nothing reckless about it.

Smart people, weighing their options and picking the best kind of companionship.

Part on good terms, a graceful goodbye—maybe even stay friends.

A night like this in a mountain village, soft mud underfoot by a babbling stream, chasing fireflies?

That was never something the old Yan Muyu would have done.

She could buy all sorts of things with money or tuck her feelings into pricey gifts.

Her girlfriends knew what held value: the most extravagant flowers, the finest restaurants, limited-edition sports cars.

The sort of things framed by teenage fantasies—things Yan Muyu had even sneered at back in her own youth. Yet here she was, at this age, shivering in the cool mountain breeze against her skin.

She thought, I’m done for.

Qiu Chao had won.

Ding Yingxue was still whistling from the sidelines. Yan Muyu shot her a look, and she clammed up instantly.

The silver-haired director off-camera leaned lazily against a pillar. When her eyes met Yan Muyu’s, she gave a lazy clap.

Qiu Chao clutched the plastic bottle, but her gaze landed on the mosquito bites dotting Yan Muyu’s hand.

Yan Muyu’s skin was so fair that the red welts stood out glaringly.

Qiu Chao asked, “Doesn’t it itch?”

Her loose clothes shifted as she stood, her collar dipping open just enough to reveal her collarbone, which looked so stunning in the lamplight that it left viewers momentarily dazed.

Yan Muyu replied, “It itches.”

It itched enough to make her a little miserable.

The sound of Lin Yumian’s sobs from her childhood echoed once more in Yan Muyu’s ears—that shallow impression she’d first formed of love.

Painful, noisy, utterly despairing.

Nothing but resentment, hysteria, and a fight to the death.

Yan Muyu had wondered countless times why her mother had fallen for that scumbag.

What was so great about a playboy? Their family wasn’t short on anything; she could have found someone better.

Lin Yumian’s mistake had been her innocence.

The family’s pampered baby girl, betting it all on a marriage alliance to the Yan Family.

She’d become the biggest laughingstock.

No love, only hatred.

Even now, at her age, she still chased after love, seeing his shadow in every man she met.

Was love really that intoxicating?

It wasn’t until a few years ago that Yan Muyu understood why.

On one night when Lin Yumian was blackout drunk again, Yan Muyu had carried her to bed. Her mother clutched her hand, crying out for Yan Muyu’s father.

Rambling on about “back then,” about being seventeen, about the year she met him.

One moment it was “he,” the next it was “you.”

They said true beauty was in the bones, not the skin, and Lin Yumian was beautiful indeed. But that first love had twisted into an obsession.

The sheltered young lady skips school for the first time, tumbles off a wall—and gets scooped up mid-fall by the tardy young heir climbing after her.

One girl’s heart blooming with joy; the other not the least bit interested, setting her down coolly.

No one in the Yan Family was ever unattractive.

At least Yan Muyu’s father had been even more flamboyant in his youth than Yan Kai—perfectly matching the taste of a Lin Yumian who’d never dated and had no time for gentle, bookish types.

Too bad some people were born rotten. Even infamous from boyhood, he never lacked admirers.

Yan Kai had shipped him off to a sanatorium by now. Yan Muyu visited her birth father once a year, and he still didn’t look his age.

Heartless types lived long. It took him ages to place her—“Oh,” he’d say eventually, “Yumian’s kid.”

As if he had no clue she was his daughter.

On those long nights, Lin Yumian would drink herself into a stupor, her sobs sounding like a vengeful ghost wailing through the storm.

If she’d actually become a ghost, though, she probably wouldn’t have sought revenge. She’d have dressed up as the ghost from A Chinese Ghost Story for one more round with him.

How pathetic.

Yan Muyu had cursed her mother to her face before, but Lin Yumian didn’t care. Her body might age, but her heart was forever frozen at seventeen.

The beloved little daughter had been sheltered too well.

Her family could arrange everything—except love.

No life was without bumps. No matter how beautiful or well-off Lin Yumian was, she had her share of suffering.

And yet, amid those sobs, Yan Muyu thought of Qiu Chao.

Her former little sister-in-law had her own drunken nights like that.

Only Qiu Chao didn’t ramble on.

She would just fix her gaze on Yan Muyu, staring until her eyes grew weary and she blinked reluctantly—then straining to open them again, until Yan Muyu covered them with her hand.

It was strange, but suddenly Yan Muyu felt that Qiu Chao shared something with Lin Yumian.

That near-pathological fixation.

Back then, Yan Muyu hadn’t yet pinpointed the core of Qiu Chao’s obsession. She only sensed that wild, ruthless edge to her.

Radiant and dazzling outside the bedroom, yet so pitiably endearing within—insisting on dragging Yan Muyu from the bedside to share the bed.

Yan Muyu had refused at the time.

She hadn’t expected they’d end up sharing one anyway.

Years later.

Here in this mountain village cabin, in the midst of a reality show, they became surging waves—forcing out each other’s deepest, hottest desires.

Qiu Chao said, “Put some bug repellent on.”

She took Yan Muyu’s hand and led her toward the stairs.

Xi Xi piped up from the side, “So eager to head upstairs and catch up already?”

Ding Yingxue grinned. “So romantic! I’ve never seen fireflies in my whole life.”

Xi Xi turned to the production crew. “No more surprise guests flying in?”

She’d been watching the drama unfold for days and wasn’t about to back down now—she wanted in on the fun.

Qiu Siyuan shook her head. “The person we invited is still overseas. They can’t make it back.”

Ding Yingxue blinked, confused. “Someone I know too?”

The camera cut to the director.

By then, Qiu Chao had already led Yan Muyu upstairs. The hall downstairs still simmered with that heated atmosphere.

Qiu Siyuan replied, “Yes.”

Pei Wan stayed silent, as if she’d already guessed.

Ding Yingxue pressed, “Can you say who it is?”

Qiu Siyuan smiled. “No. The show’s wrapping up soon—no need to stir up more trouble for you all.”

【Holy crap! I’m dying of curiosity!】

【Knowing this crew, it’s probably another drama bomb waiting to explode.】

【Ding Yingxue and Pei Wan being sisters? What Shura field is there to see?】

【You forgetting how Ding Yingxue got all jealous asking “how many little sisters do you even have?” before?】

【Oh, got it—maybe it’s someone who counts as Pei Wan’s little sister too?】

【Pei Wan’s different from Yan Muyu and Xi Xi as their manager, though.】

【Director is my type—she’s so hot.】

Downstairs, they were discussing the plans for the next few days. Qiu Chao led Yan Muyu up the stairs.

Qiu Chao had been in a semi-rest state these past couple of days, so the cameras upstairs hadn’t been turned on yet.

Yan Muyu rarely trailed behind Qiu Chao like this. Her shoes thudded dully on the wooden boards, but Qiu Chao’s hand burned warm in hers.

The voices from downstairs gradually faded behind the walls, turning into a hazy background hum. Their breaths seemed amplified in the silence, igniting like a fuse the moment the door clicked shut.

Yan Muyu’s shoulder bag slipped to the floor, and the jar of fireflies rolled under the bed.

Qiu Chao pinned Yan Muyu against the door, her urgent kisses raining down.

Qiu Chao pressed herself almost into Yan Muyu’s body, gripping her hand tightly. She kissed with loud, unabashed smacks, as if she didn’t care about the thin walls or where they were.

She even thought: If only the cameras were rolling. Let everyone see that Yan Muyu is mine.

Yan Muyu seemed startled at first, but with her lips claimed, she had no chance to speak—and Qiu Chao had no intention of giving her one.

A familiar restlessness spread through her body. Yan Muyu hooked her arms around Qiu Chao’s waist, deepening the kiss.

They kissed until they were breathless, until their clothes hung in disarray.

Qiu Chao pulled back slightly. “Still itchy?”

She meant the mosquito bites on Yan Muyu’s skin.

Yan Muyu shot back, “Are you bug spray or something?”

The words made no sense at first listen, but they had Qiu Chao fighting a smile.

Qiu Chao had tumbled to the floor, only for Yan Muyu to pull her back up. She was like a clingy, harmless snake—fierce-looking on the outside, but utterly nontoxic.

Yan Muyu added, “Stop rubbing against me. I haven’t showered yet.”

Qiu Chao fished the fireflies out from under the bed. The unlit room drew all its faint glow from the hazy twilight filtering through the window.

But it was evening now, and even that light was dim and diffused.

Qiu Chao asked, “Did you watch my interview?”

They sat on the floor together, Qiu Chao leaning into Yan Muyu, cradling the jar of fireflies.

The room was too damn dim. Even holding up the jar, Yan Muyu could barely make out Qiu Chao’s features.

But she knew that face by heart. She murmured an affirmative.

Qiu Chao pressed, “Why’d you give me this?”

Yan Muyu replied, “Gotta put them back later.”

Qiu Chao hadn’t expected that answer. She was momentarily speechless.

Yan Muyu chuckled. “Just a brief taste for you.”

Qiu Chao said simply, “Oh.”

They sat there quietly like that, Yan Muyu falling silent for a long stretch.

After a full day crammed in the car, her head throbbed. Her phone buzzed on the floor—photos from Yan Tianxing.

Yan Muyu tapped one open. It was an oil painting from her room.

Of Qiu Chao, naturally.