Chapter 71: Love Even If Missed Part 2

Qiu Chao, her head resting on Yan Muyu’s shoulder, leaned in for a peek.

Qiu Chao teased, “See? You do like me.”

Yan Muyu stayed quiet as more messages rolled in from Yan Tianxing.

Little Xing: When are you gonna paint me, Little Aunt?? You always take my ugly pics, hate you!

Yan Muyu: When did I ever take your ugly pics?

Yan Tianxing fired back several photos—all from when she was five or six.

Yan Muyu: What, raiding the darkroom for my rejects?

Yan Tianxing switched to voice message—

“Bored at home. Dad wants me to keep him company at the hospital. Sigh, he looks so pitiful right now.”

The girl’s voice was bright and endearing.

Qiu Chao asked Yan Muyu, “How’s your brother doing?”

Yan Muyu answered, “Moved to a regular ward. Something off about the accident—he says he’ll handle it.”

Yan Kai had said as much, so Yan Muyu wouldn’t pry.

She typed back to Yan Tianxing: Then go keep him company.

Yan Tianxing: Little Aunt, does Dad like that auntie who visited him yesterday?

Yan Muyu: What makes you say that?

Yan Tianxing: “Saw photos in his room too. Super old ones—you were just a little older than me back then.”

She even sent the photos.

Yan Muyu: Yeah, he likes her. She’s his first love.

Qiu Chao murmured, “Kinda harsh to tell a kid that, no?”

Her warm breath tickled Yan Muyu’s ear. The intimacy of sitting so close made it all too easy to lace their fingers together.

Yan Muyu replied, “She knows way more than you think. No point sugarcoating it—divorce wasn’t hidden from her either.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Kids in the Yan Family don’t sweat that stuff.”

Just like the hysterical fights between her parents when she was little.

Yan Muyu, once nicked by flying porcelain shards, had calmly felt the blood trickling down her forehead. Yan Kai had scooped her up and gotten the doctors to tend to her.

Yan Kai hadn’t exactly nailed marriage himself, but at least he’d spared Yan Tianxing that tense household vibe.

He and his wife had parted amicably; he’d even brought their daughter to the remarriage.

Qiu Chao ventured, “Is it that Miss Zhen Shu?”

Qiu Chao was curious too. Rumors of being a stand-in didn’t faze her. She still had no regrets about the sham romance with Yan Kai.

At the very least, it had given her four years of closeness with Yan Muyu.

Those years had served their purpose for her.

Yan Muyu hummed in confirmation.

Qiu Chao asked, “Think they could actually get together?”

Yan Muyu laughed. “Why so nosy?”

She kept texting Yan Tianxing, slipping in red envelopes amid the chat.

The picture of an indulgent aunt.

Qiu Chao said, “Because I’m like Wanwan—always curious.”

Yan Muyu: “You really never had feelings for my brother?”

Qiu Chao: “No interest in rich old guys.”

She hugged Yan Muyu’s arm, glomming onto her like she wanted to melt right in.

The fireflies’ faint glow added an unexpected layer of tenderness to the moment.

Qiu Chao’s heart swelled with sweetness. This woman likes me. Yan Muyu likes me.

Yan Muyu: ……

Sure, it wasn’t wrong about her big brother, but still…

Qiu Chao: “I didn’t even diss your brother. Why so mad?”

Yan Muyu blinked innocently. “Who said I was mad?”

Qiu Chao: “Jealous, then? Over me being tagged as the Yan Family fiancée for years?”

She kept escalating, and Yan Muyu nearly burst out laughing. “Never pegged you for such a dreamer.”

Qiu Chao: “Guilty. Fantasized about when you’d sleep with me, when we’d date, when you’d take me racing down the coastal highway…”

She got more animated, a far cry from her subdued livestream vibe. Fans spotting this would worry she’d been body-snatched.

Yan Muyu teased, “What are you, twelve?”

For no reason at all, this version of Qiu Chao struck her as adorable—fresh, brand-new.

Qiu Chao: “Started the day I met you.”

Yan Muyu asked naturally, “How old were you?”

Qiu Chao: “Seventeen…”

She snapped her gaze up, but the light was too faint to catch more than Yan Muyu’s hazy outline.

The next second, Yan Muyu asked, “So, what was your first love’s name?”

Some answers begged to be voiced, but she played it casual, like she had no clue.

This was hardly the moment for such a question—ideally, some carefully staged setting.

Not here on the floor in the dark, with the beaded curtain tinkling in the breeze and birds calling from the mountains.

The world felt hushed, though downstairs, it sounded like they were gaming.

She could even hear Xi Xi cursing and Ding Yingxue pleading with her sister.

Upstairs, the two women locked eyes in the shadows—one with foreknowledge, the other blindsided.

Qiu Chao whispered, “My seventeen-year-old…”

Yan Muyu’s name came out faint, faint enough for their lips to meet again.

Yan Muyu hit the floor, her head throbbing under Qiu Chao’s weight as she loomed over her.

Their heartbeats thundered like the storm from nights ago, lightning crashing inward to scatter the fog around Qiu Chao.

The person in her heart was right there, right beneath her.

That dreamlike first meeting years back—Qiu Chao’s pulse had raced just like this.

Maybe a touch of the suspension bridge effect, but if Yan Muyu was the swaying bridge on the brink of collapse, Qiu Chao would happily be the one sprawled across it.

The rocking itself felt romantic. If they plummeted, she’d sever the ropes herself and fall into the abyss together.

Yan Muyu gasped, “Don’t bite. That hurts.”

Qiu Chao: “Then touch me.”

Yan Muyu yelped, “Hey! ‘Touch you’? Where are you dragging my hand?”

Yan Muyu: “I haven’t showered.”

Qiu Chao: “Rinse your mouth and we’re good.”

Yan Muyu: “No way. I’m beat.”

She fended her off every which way, but Qiu Chao wouldn’t quit.

“Then kiss me a hundred times.”

Yan Muyu had never seen Qiu Chao like this.

Qiu Chao always came off as the mature type—nothing childish about her.

Now she seemed three sheets to the wind, leaving Yan Muyu equal parts amused and exasperated. “A hundred? I don’t need swollen lips tomorrow for everyone to laugh at.”

She cupped Qiu Chao’s face, which was puckering up for a peck. “When did you meet Qiu Siyuan?”

“How’d I end up your first love?”

Qiu Chao: “Kiss me a hundred times, and I’ll tell you.”

Utter nonsense, pure and simple.

Yan Muyu: “I could pinch you a hundred times instead.”

Qiu Chao arched her back. “Go ahead.”

Yan Muyu: ……

What a rogue. No one would buy that someone of her caliber acted like this behind closed doors.

Yan Muyu insisted, “I’m serious—no joking. I don’t remember a thing.”

Qiu Chao rolled off her and cradled the plastic jar again, reluctant to let go.

Yan Muyu flicked on the light, straightening the CDs that had toppled earlier.

Qiu Chao said softly, “I know you don’t remember.”

She’d imagined confessing to Yan Muyu a thousand times. Never like this.

There were no candles or red wine, no fancy hotel—just a rundown room in a rundown mountain village.

Outside, the summer wind howled, but inside, it wasn’t too stuffy.

She had imagined she’d harbor a lot of hatred, the way she did on those countless sleepless nights thinking of Yan Muyu. Four years had come and gone, turning excess love into resentment born of dissatisfaction.

Yet in this moment, she felt utterly content.

She didn’t even realize how radiantly she was smiling.

Yan Muyu almost couldn’t bear to look at her.

“Just because I saved you that day?” Yan Muyu asked.

Qiu Chao lowered her eyes. Her beautiful hand toyed endlessly with the phone, and she found herself jealous of Yan Muyu’s phone.

Qiu Chao snatched Yan Muyu’s phone away and set it aside. Then she slipped her own left hand into Yan Muyu’s palm, hoping the other woman wouldn’t make her fiddling too obvious.

“You should know,” Yan Muyu said, “if I can’t even remember it, then it probably wasn’t just for you.”

“Are you trying to make me back off?” Qiu Chao replied.

It looked like Yan Muyu was playing with Qiu Chao’s hand, but in truth, their fingers were intertwined.

Qiu Chao’s fingers slipped in and out between Yan Muyu’s, more like stubborn vines long since rooted in the other woman’s life—impossible to casually avoid.

For once, Yan Muyu didn’t quibble or deflect.

She let Qiu Chao do as she pleased with her hand, her gaze unusually serene.

“What I mean,” Yan Muyu said, “is you don’t need to hold onto something like that. Just like I never remembered you.”

A “life-saving grace”—those words felt too weighty in their current circumstances, too much even for an ordinary romance.

They belonged in epic legends, paired with vows of eternal fidelity and pledges to live and die together for a perfect ending.

“Maybe you just projected that instant of relief from being rescued onto me,” Yan Muyu went on, gripping Qiu Chao’s hand. “Thinking… that it was love.”

Qiu Chao had heard variations of this many times before—from Mai Chen, from Qiu Siyuan.

They’d all insisted it wasn’t love, just coincidence. Anyone else in that moment, and she’d have fallen for them too.

Why did it have to be Yan Muyu?

Mai Chen had never even met Yan Muyu but had already pegged her as a playboy from a wealthy family. For all Qiu Chao’s experience, she couldn’t argue against the stereotype of a rich heir’s casual flings.

Qiu Siyuan was Yan Muyu’s friend.

She knew Yan Muyu was a decent person, but only as a friend. Even after observing her relationships up close, Qiu Siyuan never saw her as the type for lasting forever.

But Qiu Chao was certain.

She leaned forward and settled onto Yan Muyu’s lap, facing her directly. Her hands pressed onto Yan Muyu’s shoulders as she stared intently into her eyes.

The perfume wafting from Qiu Chao’s body nearly overwhelmed Yan Muyu.

It carried the rich, fermented essence of a life more than a decade in the making, every note proclaiming that her heart was set on one person alone.

“I know my own feelings,” Qiu Chao said.

Her fingers traced Yan Muyu’s features, stirring a delicate itch.

“That day, it was you who showed up—specifically you,” she continued. “So for my whole life, you’re the only one I want.”

Her tone remained calm as she casually revealed a slice of her past no background check could uncover: her late mother; her stepfather’s accomplices; her days hustling as a KTV promoter; Northwest Little Sister, who became some rich merchant’s mistress.

A seventeen-year-old girl targeted for revenge.

A moment of utter despair that nearly dragged her into the abyss.

Then, one embrace—enough to shatter every bit of calm Qiu Chao had built since.

Even after all these years, the memory of it still made her choke up on the spot. It had been the wellspring for her early days faking tears on camera.

Foolproof every time.

Her roles in those plays might have been fake, but her feelings for Yan Muyu were real.

The wind outside kept blowing, sending the curtains fluttering. Moonlight pushed shadows into the room, casting restless dark patterns across the floor.

They played over Yan Muyu’s face, and Qiu Chao couldn’t help but tilt up her chin, pressing her lips forward.

Her tears fell onto Yan Muyu’s cheek.

“But you’re too hard to have, Yan Muyu,” Qiu Chao whispered. “Too hard… to truly possess.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Yan Muyu asked.

Qiu Chao had had countless chances.

Like that first visit to the Yan Family, when Yan Muyu spotted her in the passenger seat.

Like their first shared meal, after Yan Kai had left midway.

Like every moment alone in those four years since…

But she never had.

“Do you think,” Qiu Chao said, “that if I’d spoken up back then, you’d be looking at me like this now?”

She smiled, tears still glistening in her eyes as she pinched Yan Muyu’s chin. “Little Yan, you’re too heartless.”

“What I want isn’t four months, or forty, or forty years.”

“I want your lifetime.”

Yan Muyu let out a chuckle. “Acting like victory’s already yours?”

In the next instant, she yanked Qiu Chao close by the waist and tugged out the hairpin securing her updo.

The actress’s long hair spilled down, silky in the light, its fragrance threatening to fill the entire room.

“Who was the one in such a rush?” Yan Muyu teased. “Rushing here to throw caution to the wind, rushing straight into Whale Entertainment’s arms.”

Qiu Chao wriggled, but Yan Muyu held her fast. “That’s because you fell for me,” she shot back. “You care!”

Yan Muyu stroked her hair, a mix of tenderness and willing surrender in the gesture.

Just as Qiu Chao braced for more stubborn denial, Yan Muyu hummed in agreement.

“Then let’s find out,” she murmured. “Just how long my lifetime will be.”

“I’m most afraid of the slow, steady burn.”