Chapter 72: Respect and Blessings Part 2

Qiu Siyuan took a deep breath, still considering Wen Miao the most bizarre woman she’d ever met.

“Anyway, you two weren’t officially dating. That year, wasn’t it her who taught you mahjong? That’s when we went for the bone marrow hotpot.”

Yan Muyu let out an “oh.” “Did Qiu Chao eat there too?”

Qiu Siyuan said, “Why not just ask her directly? Hasn’t she come clean already?”

Yan Muyu had her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets. The cool summer night breeze lifted her bangs. Qiu Chao was off trying to catch fireflies, laughing with a childlike innocence.

Yan Muyu replied, “Some things, she just won’t say.”

Even if they could sit together reminiscing about the past—about the brutal murder that had shattered everything, her sister’s disfigured face.

Qiu Chao’s biggest summary would only be that it was “sad.”

Yan Muyu knew that sadness held more layers, and she understood why.

Some pains were etched into the bone. Even now, with Qiu Chao shining like the sun, she still carried the memory of her teenage years—too broke to afford a single pair of real leather shoes.

Time could pass. Emotions could heal. But that raw moment of grief? It could never be made whole.

Yan Muyu wanted the specifics: the exact time, the precise place. She wanted to tend to the wounds Qiu Chao was still hiding.

Even when Qiu Chao professed love—fierce and passionate—in her deepest feelings, she didn’t know why the tears still came.

Back then, Yan Muyu wouldn’t have accused her of fooling herself.

She just felt a surge of tenderness, wanting to kiss her forehead.

Heart and soul—words she’d tossed around lightly before.

In that instant, she truly ached for her, down to her core.

Qiu Siyuan said, “About a week after your birthday, I think. She must have been staking the place out.”

This slice of history had been part of the deal between Qiu Chao and Yan Kai back then. There was nothing online about Qiu Chao dropping out or her work history—no insider scoops from acquaintances.

Qiu Siyuan wasn’t exactly an acquaintance; she was an old connection.

“She came to thank you,” Qiu Siyuan explained. “Tracked you down to our usual eating spot.”

“But she didn’t come in,” she added. “I was downstairs taking a call. She barely said a few words when you poked your head out from upstairs and called for me. She bolted.”

In Qiu Siyuan’s memory, that year’s Qiu Chao had been striking in her looks, but with a tacky kind of flair.

A shrewd, worldly sharpness overlaid her vibrant features, wrapped in the dust of endless nights of hustling. She seemed far older than her ID suggested.

Too savvy for her age, it made Qiu Siyuan mistake her for an “older sister” type.

Yan Muyu asked, “Do you remember what she was wearing?”

That was a tough one. Qiu Siyuan glanced at Yan Muyu.

Yan Muyu sighed. “I want to remember too, but how was I supposed to know that day would turn out like it did?”

She and Qiu Siyuan stood by the car. On the other side lay the midnight village, with streetlights winding up the mountain like stars spilled across the ridges.

Qiu Siyuan gave a rough description, then added, “Anyway, it was cheap stuff.”

She glanced toward Qiu Chao in the distance. “Nowadays, if Qiu Chao wears market stall finds, it looks like high fashion. But back then? Totally different.”

Yan Muyu murmured her agreement.

Qiu Siyuan asked, “So, you two making it official?”

There was no mockery in her tone—just the sincere concern of an old friend.

Yan Muyu said, “I don’t know. One step at a time.”

She shrugged. “I’m scared we’ll end up sick of each other. That year, I never planned to play the hero. But Qiu Chao put me up on this pedestal.”

Qiu Siyuan said, “You? Afraid?”

Yan Muyu nodded frankly. “I’ve never been so tightly wrapped around someone’s finger before.”

There was no bitterness in her words—just a hint of amusement. It struck Qiu Siyuan as a willing surrender.

Not very “Yan Muyu” at all.

It reminded her of the way Qiu Chao had stared up at the building that year—predatory, almost frightening in her determination.

Then, after this show got greenlit, Qiu Chao’s transatlantic call came through. Her voice calm across oceans and mountains, but laced with uncontainable ambition.

Qiu Siyuan had asked, “What if it fails?”

Qiu Chao: “Then I won’t live.”

How much was bluff, how much real? Not Qiu Siyuan’s concern.

Those who knew Qiu Chao might think it out of character for such a ruthlessly ambitious survivor.

But people could compartmentalize love and career perfectly.

Especially since Qiu Chao was ice-cold in business, channeling all her fire into romance.

Fire enough to reduce someone to ashes—like all her insecurities and pride.

But now, it seemed…

Yan Muyu still held the extinguisher, deftly balancing Qiu Chao’s every mood.

That was terrifying in its own way—falling so completely, yet thriving in it. It left onlookers unsettled.

Qiu Siyuan said, “Respect. Blessings.”

Yan Muyu shot back, “If you want to curse me out, just say it straight.”

Qiu Siyuan asked, “Do lesbians ask for wedding cash gifts too?”

Yan Muyu replied, “You short on cash?”

Qiu Siyuan sighed. “Every little bit helps.”

~~~

Although releasing fireflies wasn’t anything groundbreaking, it felt utterly novel to these women who rarely spent time in the countryside.

They had a blast playing in the chilly night breeze late into the hours. Taking photos dragged on for ages.

In the end, they took turns posing and even dragged Qiu Siyuan in for a group shot.

But the lighting was poor, the flash too harsh, and their makeshift phone flashlights didn’t help. The results looked straight out of a horror flick. Yan Muyu furrowed her brow, about to comment, when Ding Yingxue cut her off.

“Young Boss Yan, don’t set the bar so high,” Ding Yingxue said. “Have you never taken fun pics before?”

It was borderline insubordinate. Liu Song tugged at Ding Yingxue’s sleeve.

Ding Yingxue glanced at Yan Muyu climbing into the car, only for Yan Muyu to pull a goofy face out of nowhere.

“I—damn,” Ding Yingxue blurted.

Yan Muyu laughed. “Isn’t this fun?”

Qiu Siyuan checked the time. “Aren’t you all tired?”

Ding Yingxue replied, “No follow cams for once—this is relaxation.”

Wandering a mountain village deep into the night was such a rare thrill; there might never be a second chance. They wanted to snap every photo possible.

With no one else around, Liu Song whispered, “Wrap-up’s this weekend.”

She sounded a little sad. Ding Yingxue slung an arm around Liu Song’s shoulders. “Why so down? Don’t you see Sister Xi every day?”

Liu Song said, “That’s just it… Days like this are too precious.”

Yan Muyu drove them back, moonlight spilling over the tea garden. Tomorrow was another day.

Qiu Chao watched the driver ahead, staring at Yan Muyu’s hands. She thought of Qiu Siyuan’s question: what about the future?

She hadn’t considered it.

She figured Yan Muyu hadn’t either.

This relationship was something Qiu Chao had seized, laced with heavy premeditation and scheming. Even the past had been leveraged for sympathy.

This was already the best outcome.

She’d won the bet. But a lifetime was so long. She could tuck the wind into her sleeve for now—but would it stay contained forever?

Yet in that moment, Qiu Chao realized more deeply than ever: this was love.

Insecurity, restless yearning—just shy of a grand public announcement.

A public announcement.

Would Yan Muyu do it?

She sat in the back, silently fixating on Yan Muyu’s hands amid Liu Song and Ding Yingxue’s chatter. She imagined those hands gripping her thighs.

Yan Muyu suddenly called out, “Qiu Chao.”

Qiu Chao was lost in thought.

Qiu Siyuan turned. The car interior was pitch black, lit only faintly by passing mountain road lamps.

But Qiu Chao’s bone structure was exquisite. Even in darkness, her quiet poise exuded endless allure—as if a sliver of light was enough to captivate the world.

Everyone lusted after beauty.

Yan Muyu’s appreciation for it was the most exaggerated Qiu Siyuan had ever seen. There was even that classic high school incident where she nearly tumbled off a cliff just to snap a photo of a particularly stunning cloud.

She didn’t just admire surface-level beauty, though. It went deeper, into those hard-to-articulate details that made something truly captivating.

Qiu Siyuan, as the director, understood exactly what Yan Muyu wanted to capture on film.

Qiu Chao was far too complex. It was that very complexity that wove a web around you—mesmerizing, alluring, impossible to look away from. Just like now, as the car pulled up to the entrance and the outside lights blazed brighter.

Yan Muyu glanced into the rearview mirror, staring silently at Qiu Chao.

Qiu Siyuan said nothing.

In the back seat, Liu Song and Ding Yingxue had actually leaned against each other and fallen asleep.

Pei Wan fiddled with her phone, lost in thought about who knew what.

The car fell quiet in an instant.

It was the dead of night, with even the crickets tucked away asleep, when Yan Muyu pulled out her phone to snap a photo. She forgot to turn off the flash, though, which finally yanked Qiu Chao out of her reverie.

“You were sneaking a photo of me,” Qiu Chao said.

“It’s not sneaking if I told you about it,” Yan Muyu replied.

Qiu Siyuan got out of the car. “You all should turn in early. We’ve got wrap-up tomorrow, plus some other events lined up.”

Liu Song nodded vigorously, like her head was a pestle in a mortar. Ding Yingxue wrapped her arms around Pei Wan’s waist and shuffled back inside, clinging to her like a child.

That left just Yan Muyu and Qiu Chao in the car.

Qiu Chao reached out a hand.

“What’s that for?” Yan Muyu asked.

“I want to see if you made me look hideous,” Qiu Chao said.

Yan Muyu didn’t hand it over.

With a grin, she added, “You looked really… when you weren’t in time to put up your guard.”

She never got to say “hideous.” Qiu Chao lunged forward, trying to snatch Yan Muyu’s phone.

Yan Muyu was still buckled in with her seatbelt and hadn’t anticipated just how fierce Qiu Chao could be. She climbed right over from the passenger seat, squeezing between the driver’s seat and the dash.

“I know you’re skinny, but you don’t have to prove it like…” Yan Muyu started.

Qiu Chao leaned in and planted a quick kiss on Yan Muyu’s lips. In the same smooth motion, she swiped the phone and hopped out the passenger door.

Yan Muyu sat there frozen, dumbstruck. So was the night-shift staffer who’d come to retrieve the car.

She felt like she was sleepwalking through a dream.

Sure, everyone knew there was something between Yan Muyu and Qiu Chao, but was this position—in the car, no less—a bit too much?

Part of her wanted to call the cops!

Safety first… Wait, no, at least the car was parked.

Why was she getting force-fed dog food in the middle of the night?

Qiu Chao walked off, scrolling through Yan Muyu’s phone.

Yan Muyu had figured it was locked anyway, so no big deal. But by the time she unbuckled, got out, and caught up, Qiu Chao was already admiring the photo.

“How did you unlock my screen?” Yan Muyu demanded.

Qiu Chao shot her a glance, then sauntered leisurely over the threshold. The moment Yan Muyu shut the door behind them, Qiu Chao pinned her against it.

The female star, bare-faced in the dim predawn light, had contours that looked impossibly perfect. She rose on her tiptoes, tilting Yan Muyu’s chin up, and murmured, “I know you a lot better than you think.”

“Little Yan.”

In the next instant, she was hoisted up over a shoulder. They passed by Ding Yingxue, who was squatting off to the side rinsing her mouth, under Pei Wan’s wide-eyed stare. Yan Muyu gave Qiu Chao’s backside a playful smack.

“Is that so?” Yan Muyu said. “Then don’t cry later.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Qiu Chao shot back.

Ding Yingxue rinsed her mouth one more time and let out a whoop. “That’s spicy!”