The next day dawned just barely, the sky still dim. Worried about how Yan Nuoya had slept at the studio the night before, Mo Xiangwen had picked up two breakfasts early and hurried over.
He subconsciously pulled out his key and slid it into the lock before suddenly catching himself.
Someone was living in the studio now—he couldn’t just barge in like he usually did.
After a brief hesitation, he raised his hand and knocked lightly on the door twice. “Nuoya, you up? I’m coming in.”
It wasn’t long before a soft murmur came from inside. “Mm.”
He pushed open the studio door, and his gaze instinctively drifted toward the sofa bed.
There sat Yan Nuoya on the edge, her back to the door.
She wore a simple white cotton nightgown, the faint morning light tracing the graceful curves of her figure.
Her usually neatly combed silver-white hair hung loosely and a bit messily, with a few rebellious strands sticking up.
She seemed to have just woken up, surrounded by a lazy, dazed aura he’d never seen on her before. Her fingers absentmindedly teased at the tangled ends of her hair.
At the sound of the door, she turned around, sluggish and delayed.
Her normally clear, piercing eyes were veiled in a thin mist now, hazy with sleep and lingering fatigue as they quietly fixed on Mo Xiangwen in the doorway.
This was a far cry from her usual calm confidence; right now, she exuded an inexplicable softness and vulnerability.
“Morning,” Mo Xiangwen said, suppressing a strange flutter in his chest. He tried to sound casual as he shook the bag in his hand. “Brought you some breakfast.”
Yan Nuoya blinked, her gaze slowly sharpening. She let out a soft “mm,” her voice still husky from sleep. Rather than heading straight for the food, she picked up the rinse cup and toothbrush from the coffee table and made for the bathroom.
Mo Xiangwen glanced at the sofa. Yan Nuoya had already folded the quilt neatly, with the pillow resting squarely on top.
Her first move upon waking had been to make the bed? That was just like her. He set the breakfast on her desk, returned to his own spot, and started watching videos while eating his own meal.
Some time later—just as he began to worry about how long she was taking in the bathroom—the door creaked open.
Yan Nuoya emerged, freshly washed.
Her silver-white hair was now pulled back into a sleek ponytail, revealing the elegant line of her neck.
She held the plain white rinse cup in one hand as she walked to her suitcase and carefully tucked it away.
She looked a touch more alert after splashing water on her face, but the deep weariness etched between her brows hadn’t faded.
She seemed utterly listless, her movements sluggish and unhurried.
“Have some breakfast first,” Mo Xiangwen said gently, noting how she was forcing herself to perk up. “If you’re still tired, you can rest after. Nothing urgent today—take it easy.”
“. . . Okay.” Yan Nuoya nodded faintly, her voice thick with exhaustion.
She settled into the seat beside Mo Xiangwen and picked up a spoon with deliberate slowness, sipping at the warm porridge. Her head dipped forward uncontrollably a few times, but she powered through and finished the last bite.
She set the empty bowl down almost immediately and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin.
Propping herself against the table, she stood—her body swaying unsteadily.
Mo Xiangwen figured she was off to brew some coffee or change clothes, but instead, she shuffled to the sofa bed and bent down to gather the thin quilt she’d folded that morning.
Clutching it to her chest, she swayed back toward her swivel chair at an agonizingly slow pace.
She hadn’t bothered to change out of the clean, simple white nightgown.
She sank into the chair’s generous embrace, curling her body sideways so her back buried deep into the soft cushions. Her legs tucked up naturally.
She draped the quilt over her waist and abdomen, and her eyelids finally gave out, drooping shut with a heavy finality.
Mo Xiangwen watched her sink into utter exhaustion and let out a silent sigh.
Keeping his voice low, he asked, “Why not sleep on the bed over there?” He meant, of course, the assembled sofa bed.
Yan Nuoya’s eyelids didn’t so much as twitch. She gave the tiniest shake of her head, her cheek nuzzling unconsciously into the soft cushion as she mumbled something blurry and sleep-soaked.
“No need . . . right here . . . is fine . . .”
With that, her breathing settled into a deep, steady rhythm. The hand resting on the edge of the blanket went fully slack.
Mo Xiangwen turned to gaze at the sleeping Yan Nuoya. Without her usual cool detachment, her sleeping face looked relaxed and serene.
Had inviting Nuoya to move into the studio been a mistake?
From what he knew of her, it shouldn’t have been.
And he hadn’t misread her expressions or demeanor yesterday.
Maybe . . . he’d overlooked something?
He sighed inwardly and decided to shelve the question for now.
No point dwelling if he couldn’t figure it out. Better to focus on work.
He could just ask her straight when she woke up.
Shaking his head, he pushed the stray thoughts aside.
Speaking of work . . . he needed to bring up the studio mascot with Bai Shishi soon, have her check if her friend was available.
He’d just opened the group chat when he spotted a message from Bai Bai.
Bai Bai: Anyone up for a game?
Pass One Charm: Sorry, Bai Bai. Sis and I have stuff today—can’t play.
Pass One Charm: Try Xiangwen and Nuoya.
Bai Bai: What about Xiao Yi and Nuoya?
Human-Dragon Unity: Nuoya’s resting, no dice. I can join.
Human-Dragon Unity: But first, got something to chat about with you.
Bai Bai: Huh? With me?
Human-Dragon Unity: It’s about your friend. Private chat?
Bai Bai: Sure.
They switched to private messages.
Bai Bai: What’s this about my friend, Xiao Yi?
Bai Bai: New character designs?
Human-Dragon Unity: Yeah, but this one’s for our studio.
Bai Bai: The studio?
Human-Dragon Unity: Su Mengli suggested making a mascot last time—as the studio’s symbol.
Human-Dragon Unity: I remembered our deal to prioritize your friend.
Human-Dragon Unity: So, wondering if she’s free to do the original art lately.
Human-Dragon Unity: Even better if she can handle modeling too.
Human-Dragon Unity: Our future game plans could really use her help. A long-term contract would be ideal.
A mascot? Xiao Yi’s studio needed one? And they had future game plans that might need her too?
Did that mean she could join the studio?
But how was she supposed to tell Xiao Yi that she herself was the artist in question?
Bai Shishi froze. After the initial surge of delight came a furrowed brow of hesitation.
Her fingers hovered motionless over the keyboard for a long moment before she finally mustered her resolve.
Bai Bai: Xiao Yi, there’s something I need to tell you.
Whatever. She just had to trust him.
Believe first—and keep believing.
