Xu Yueliang sat frozen in front of the camera, as if someone had hit the pause button. She didn’t move for a long time.
The barrage of comments scrolled by too quickly. Even with a dedicated screen just for reading them, the messages flickered past as white text, vanishing into the feed almost instantly.
Lin Qimian.
Xu Yueliang’s throat bobbed. It wasn’t until a trusted admin sent her a private message asking if she was okay that she snapped back to focus.
She reached for the water glass beside her and chugged a big mouthful.
The comments came into sharp relief, all of them asking what had happened:
【Moon, is your connection lagging?】
【That was one minute and twenty-eight seconds of frozen footage.】
【Did Bigshot 11’s gift barrage freak you out?】
【Holy crap, is 11 really Moon’s hot doctor sister?】
【Never thought I’d see yuri novel drama play out live in Orange.】
【What are you guys dreaming about? Better question: is the streamer DMing her top donor? She’s got plenty to chat about with him.】
【What’s the doctor’s name again? Which hospital? I’m gonna go check out the babe—and get my teeth looked at while I’m there.】
Xu Yueliang jolted back to reality. She quickly messaged the admin:
-【I’m fine.】
-【Delete the name 11 just posted. Delete any more mentions from now on.】
-【Ban anyone spamming repeats.】
The admin had been with her for a while and moved fast without asking questions.
Within half a minute, every trace of Lin Qimian’s name had vanished from the comment history. Xu Yueliang cleared her throat and switched to a new song. “Sorry about that~ I wasn’t feeling great for a second~”
She pushed back from the chair and stood. “I’ve been practicing a new dance—super sexy. Want me to show you guys~~~?”
The live stream room was packed mostly with guys, and the word “sexy” sent the screen into a frenzy of thirsty cheers.
Xu Yueliang took her position as the music kicked in, her expressions falling perfectly into place.
Any dance she brought to stream had been drilled into her body through endless practice.
She needed moves so ingrained that she didn’t have to think—just let muscle memory take over.
Because right now, she couldn’t think.
Her mind was stuffed full with those three words, like cotton crammed into her veins, grinding everything to a halt.
One-two-three-four, two-two-three-four. She counted the beats silently in her head.
The song ended quickly, and the comments settled back to normal. Xu Yueliang bent to queue up the next track without checking the history or reading out the thanks list.
She powered through four songs in a row, her breathing growing heavy, before finally stopping.
She glanced at the time and waved at the screen. “That’s it for today’s stream~~ Time to call it. Get some rest, everyone—goodnight, muah~~~”
She logged off before the comments could react.
The main screen went black, and the camera light blinked red.
Xu Yueliang powered down her gear, put everything back in its place, and left the room.
That was her workspace, decked out with the best lighting, soundproofing, props, and decor.
Step outside, and it was her real life.
A tiny one-bedroom apartment. The bedroom doubled as her work setup, so the living room was where she crashed.
The sofa pulled out into a bed—or served as a laundry pile. The TV barely got used; the coffee table made a perfect dining spot.
Half a sandwich lay abandoned on the “table.” Xu Yueliang sank onto the rug and tore into it.
She barely tasted it.
With nothing to distract her now, all the information she’d shoved aside came rushing back. The silence amplified the chaos in her head.
When the sandwich was gone, she grabbed her phone. After a long hesitation, she finally sent the message.
To z92565611: 【11, do you know Doctor Lin?】
Lin Qimian snapped awake at five in the morning.
The city was still asleep, sunlight spilling through the massive living room windows to blanket half the floor.
Her head throbbed fiercely. She shifted, and pain shot through her neck, her back—everywhere.
Her fingers were numb. The stuff clutched in her arms clattered to the floor. She looked down, eyes stinging.
Two phones. Her candy wrapper jar. The letters Xu Yueliang had given her—handwritten by who knew whom. And a bag of chips, vacuum seal already burst.
Lin Qimian picked up the chips. Half a bag’s worth of crumbs rained into her welcome-home rug.
Lin Qimian: “…”
How had she ended up passing out in her own entryway?
How had she dragged that treasure chest of painful memories all the way home?
How had she…
She sat there, stunned.
She snatched up her phone. No need to check her sent messages—the notification bar had Xu Yueliang’s WeChat right at the top.
【11, do you know Doctor Lin?】
11, do you know Doctor Lin…
How had a little setback and a few drinks stripped away all her rationality and cunning? How had she let those trivial emotions wrap around her, pushing her to do something so utterly stupid?
Lin Qimian struggled to her feet, ignoring the ache in her body, and strode into the bathroom.
She splashed a handful of cold water on her face, finally clearing her head a bit.
She washed up but didn’t reply to Xu Yueliang’s message.
Xu Yueliang had asked, “Do you know Doctor Lin?” not “Are you Doctor Lin?” That meant there was still room to maneuver.
How much room depended on just how stupid she’d been last night and how much she’d let slip.
Lin Qimian clutched her phone and sank onto the sofa, starting to investigate what had happened.
By the time she’d called Huang Xiaoyi to take her home, her head was already fuzzy from the alcohol.
Someone who rarely drank could lose all reason after just a couple of shots, her mind overheating as she did things she couldn’t even imagine in her sober state.
That idiotic display on the road—Lin Qimian glanced at the dashcam footage and couldn’t bear to watch. She quickly password-protected the video.
Once home, she seemed to have stayed only in the entryway. Orange’s browsing history showed she’d only entered Xu Yueliang’s Live Streaming Room.
She took a deep breath and opened the barrage records. There were two comments.
【It’s Lin Qimian.】
【When can it happen?】
Both had already been deleted by the admin.
Her hazy memories sharpened into focus. She pieced together the general context, but that was as far as it went.
After sending those two damning messages, she’d passed out and even had what could only be called a sweet dream.
She had no recollection of Xu Yueliang’s reaction.
The recording of last night’s stream hadn’t been released yet. Whether it was the streamer herself who’d messaged her or the viewers in the Live Streaming Room, they were probably all still fast asleep.
There was still time to salvage this.
All that had been fully exposed was Doctor Lin’s name—the masked dentist who’d pulled Xu Yueliang’s tooth.
Her name was Lin Qimian, which probably wasn’t all that surprising to Xu Yueliang.
It was just tearing down that flimsy paper window of “strangers online.” If Xu Yueliang remembered her, she was nothing more than a former classmate with no real connection.
And online, 11 was just some crazy fan showering Xu Yueliang with gifts, like an obsessed stalker who couldn’t control herself. As long as Lin Qimian played it tough and Xu Yueliang had no solid proof, it was merely that she knew Doctor Lin.
Lin Qimian had found her escape route. She felt much steadier now.
But she still didn’t reply to Xu Yueliang’s message.
She held her phone, sitting quietly as the sky grew brighter and the city came alive with noise.
Lin Qimian felt hungry.
A real, gnawing hunger rising from her stomach and spreading through her body.
She thought of the snacks Xu Yueliang had given her back in Middle School—the cheapest, most ordinary ones, perfectly suited to a kid’s tastes.
Sweet ones that were intensely so, spicy ones that brought tears to your eyes.
Once Xu Yueliang had grown up, the snacks she gave became the newest, most expensive, uniquely flavored yet mild ones that rarely disappointed.
Lin Qimian liked both kinds, but right now, she craved the ones from their childhood.
She got up, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs.
She checked the supermarket in her complex first but didn’t find what she wanted.
She left the complex, hailed a cab to the nearest mall. Most of the shops were still closed, and she came away empty-handed.
As she exited the mall, she spotted a mom with a kid in a school uniform by the roadside. It hit her like a ton of bricks—she felt like such an idiot.
Lin Qimian found an old elementary school and arrived at a dusty little shop just before the morning rush.
There they were at last, crossing years of time—eaten and drunk, red and green, lying quietly on the shelves as if they’d been waiting for her all along.
Lin Qimian gathered up a huge armful and brought it to the counter. The Shop Boss grinned and asked, “You went to school here, right? Coming back for some childhood memories?”
Lin Qimian mumbled, “Yeah.”
The Shop Boss laughed heartily as he rang her up. “When I stocked these, my wife said they were outdated. But look, I told her—classics are classics. Stuff from when you were a kid just hits different.”
He packed the items one by one into the bag and winked at Lin Qimian. “Truth is, it’s the times from back then that were good. And the people who were with us in those days.”
Lin Qimian took the bag. “Thanks.”
She stepped outside with her haul, not rushing to the cab. She pulled out a pack of spicy strips, tore it open, and strolled along the curb, munching as she went.
Students streamed toward school, the morning sun brilliant as if the day were newborn.
Lin Qimian thought back to her childhood self, before her mother had passed away. Her personality hadn’t been particularly lively back then, but it certainly wouldn’t have been called aloof.
In those days, she had people who cared for her, people who loved her. The world had felt bright and brilliant to her, full of hope.
Now, as she savored the familiar taste in her mouth, she recalled Xu Yueliang’s smiling face. She imagined that perhaps she really did have a sliver of hope—that she could take Xu Yueliang’s hand, watch the snow together with her, and press her lips to her cheek…
Suddenly, the world felt bright and brilliant again, full of hope.
She stopped in her tracks and opened Orange Live.
Xu Yueliang’s live streaming room was quiet, while Weiwei’s already had a notice pinned up: out on leave for three days, from today until the day after tomorrow.
Lin Qimian raised her hand to hail a cab and gave the driver the address for Youhai Hospital.
But before the car had even left the street, she changed her mind and switched it to her home address.
Back at home, Lin Qimian freshened up as quickly as she could, then stood in front of her closet, agonizing over her outfit for a full ten minutes.
The clothes couldn’t be too formal and stiff, nor too casual and unbecoming of her status.
They had to look neat under her white coat without adding bulk, and elegant and attractive once she took it off.
Her hair and makeup needed to match—effortless and natural, yet refined and alluring.
Fortunately, she had a face that everyone praised as beautiful upon seeing it. At least on the outside, she probably wouldn’t rub anyone the wrong way.
After fussing over every detail until she was perfectly put together, Lin Qimian stepped out the door.
At the hospital, she first checked the appointment records for each department, then headed straight to her target for some friendly colleague chit-chat.
Ever since her identity as a shareholder had been announced at the last meeting, her colleagues had all been exceptionally friendly toward her.
It wasn’t hard for her to learn that Weiwei’s full name was You Weiwei—and that Xu Yueliang had ultimately not recommended her old classmate, Doctor Lin Qimian, to You Weiwei.
But Lin Qimian sat down in the clinic room where You Weiwei had an appointment scheduled anyway.
Once certain shackles were broken, it became possible to be honest—more than honest, even.
For instance, she wasn’t wearing a mask today, nor her glasses.
Not only was her face fully on display, but she had also pinned on her doctor name tag.
Right there on her chest, in clear, unmistakable characters: 【Attending Physician: Lin Qimian】.
She had thrown herself out there. She had thrown herself out there long ago.
What remained—anyone who came to Youhai would now meet Lin Qimian. That was something for Xu Yueliang to consider.
