Chapter 53: Xu Yueliang Prepares the Food, Lin Qimian Plans the Travel Route

Few people around, peaceful and quiet, no work to interrupt them.

This was no different from the outing they had planned.

Xu Yueliang gazed at the scene before her, on the verge of tears yet holding them back, unwilling to let them spoil the moment.

Her face was a mess—brows furrowed, lips forced into a smile.

“No more words,” she said, shaking her head. “I won’t say it again.”

After saying sorry twice, how could she bear to speak further now that Doctor Lin had gone to such lengths to prepare this surprise, making up for her regrets? There was no need.

This was the best gift she’d received in a very, very long time.

“Silly goose.” Lin Qimian ruffled her hair. “What do you think of this campsite? If you don’t like it, we can pick another spot.”

“No, no, no—it’s perfect!” Xu Yueliang insisted. “Absolutely perfect!”

“Alright, then. I’ll set up the fresh flowers around camp. You unpack the ready-made food we bought.” Lin Qimian divvied up the tasks.

“I can make something fresh right now! Your favorite!” Xu Yueliang offered.

Lin Qimian smiled. “No rush. The sun’s the one in a hurry.”

Xu Yueliang glanced over. Sure enough, the sun was hurrying.

It was sinking fast—soon it would slip behind the city skyline.

Xu Yueliang hurried to sort out the food. Doctor Lin had stocked up plenty of ready-to-eat items and fruit; unpacking them was all it took.

She carried everything out and arranged it neatly on the picnic mat.

The carpet was still in place, and in her haste she caught her foot on it, stumbling slightly. Staring down at the gray-green shag, she remarked, “Wow, this grass is growing in thick!”

Lin Qimian burst out laughing.

She unpacked the bouquet and arranged the flowers in bottles alongside the daisies, setting them by the chairs.

“A little cluster of flowers,” Lin Qimian said.

Xu Yueliang kicked off her slippers and stepped onto the carpet, kneeling beside the picnic mat. “Then I should get close to the earth too—like the flowers, tapping into that grounding energy.”

Lin Qimian settled beside her. “Look—the sun’s setting.”

Xu Yueliang turned to watch, her back straightening as she stared in awe.

She had never realized how beautiful a city sunset could be.

Golden light blazed brilliant, fractured by the buildings into countless shadows. Above stretched the empty sky; below sprawled the bustling world.

“I…” Xu Yueliang started to speak, then swallowed her words.

Only after the sun had fully vanished, turning the sky an inky blue, did she finally say, “My streams run from two in the afternoon till two in the morning.”

Lin Qimian murmured softly, “Mm.”

Xu Yueliang went on. “To rake in more gifts, chase those watch-time bonuses, climb the diligent streamer ranks…”

Lin Qimian nodded. “You’ve done incredibly well.”

Xu Yueliang rested her chin on her knees. “But I’ve missed out on so much—like thousands of gorgeous sunsets.”

Lin Qimian peeled a pistachio and held it to her lips.

Xu Yueliang parted her mouth and took it.

Lin Qimian said, “You could get bolder with your career plans. But I can’t offer specifics—no one knows your world better than you do.”

“Mm!” Xu Yueliang beamed. “Enough of that. When do we get to see the stars?”

Lin Qimian replied, “Once the city falls asleep.”

Xu Yueliang sprang to her feet. “Then first things first—Doctor Lin’s stomach needs to be happy.”

She dashed to the kitchen, where the clatter of pots soon rang out.

They finished dinner and cleaned up, but it was still too early.

Too early for the whole city to have drifted off.

Xu Yueliang declared she’d never slept in a tent before and claimed it outright—though she kept poking her head out to chat with Lin Qimian.

Propped on her elbows, her legs kicked idly inside.

“I can pull an all-nighter till two, but Doctor Lin won’t last.”

Lin Qimian said, “If I crash, I’ll sleep it off and stargaze when I wake.”

Xu Yueliang rolled onto her back. “You’re right.”

Lin Qimian eyed her. “So you want me out on the grass?”

“Ah!” Xu Yueliang froze. A few seconds later, she whispered, “Is this… a two-person tent?”

Lin Qimian confirmed, “Yes.”

Xu Yueliang scooted aside, curling into a tight ball that hid her face from view.

“Then let’s share it,” she mumbled.

Lin Qimian laughed.

Xu Yueliang had the nerve to invite her so boldly, but Lin Qimian didn’t dare accept with the same confidence.

Just sharing this intimate space alone with her—watching her soft smiles, the way her cheeks flushed now and then—was already pushing Lin Qimian’s limits.

Any closer, and who knew what might happen.

Her rationality hung by a thin thread, Xu Yueliang’s innocence and trust tugging at it, blurring the boundaries between what she should and shouldn’t do.

“If you’re sleepy, go ahead.” Lin Qimian pulled her chair closer to the telescope and began adjusting the settings. “When you can’t see the stars, you can always look at the moon.”

Tonight’s moon shone brilliantly. Magnified again and again, its planetary textures came into sharp relief.

Lin Qimian studied how today’s patterns differed from those of previous nights. As she lost herself in the view, it felt as if her body were floating lightly, wandering among the craters.

Then a rush of warm breath enveloped her.

It was like a balmy, humid breeze off a springtime sea.

Xu Yueliang had leaned in close, bending at the waist with her hands propped on the table, eyes straining toward the eyepiece. Lin Qimian turned her head and nearly brushed against her cheek.

Xu Yueliang’s cheek bore no resemblance to the magnified moon.

It was smooth and luminous, like the hazy half-moon of Jiaojiao viewed from Earth, veiled in a soft glow.

Lin Qimian blinked. Seizing the moment, Xu Yueliang pulled back slightly, not daring to press forward. She lifted her eyes anxiously. “Can you see the moon? Can you see it?”

Lin Qimian: “…I can see it.”

Xu Yueliang: “Is it pretty? Is tonight’s moon pretty?”

Lin Qimian: “…”

She couldn’t meet Xu Yueliang’s gaze while answering such an obvious question.

“See for yourself.” Lin Qimian stepped aside.

Xu Yueliang rubbed her hands together. “I don’t know how…”

“It’s mostly tuned already. If you want to get a better grasp…” Lin Qimian shook the box beside her and pulled out the manual. “You can compare it to this.”

“Okay, okay!” Xu Yueliang’s interest was piqued. Blushing, she added, “Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime. Don’t get mad if I mess up, Doctor Lin. Unless I break your telescope.”

Lin Qimian: “Okay.”

Lin Qimian slid her chair back and sat down. “Actually, I have more than one.”

Xu Yueliang’s eyes widened as she stared at her. Lin Qimian smiled. “So don’t worry about breaking it.”

Of course it mattered—Xu Yueliang wasn’t the type to ruin someone else’s things without making it right.

She pored over the manual with intense focus, handling the telescope as gingerly as if it were a live bomb, like a middle schooler stepping into a lab for the first time.

Amused, Lin Qimian picked up her phone and snapped a photo.

Xu Yueliang tinkered away for quite a while until her back ached from bending over. When she finally turned to Lin Qimian, she found her lounging lazily in her chair, flowers scattered at her feet, her gaze drifting idly out the window.

“Doctor Lin, aren’t you coming to look?” Xu Yueliang said. “Am I hogging your telescope? You should grab another one—we could look together~”

“No need.” Lin Qimian tilted her chin. “I’ve got plenty to see.”

Xu Yueliang followed her gaze. The moon hung high over the city skyline, bright and clear.

“It’s not the same at all,” Xu Yueliang remarked. “It actually looks even prettier from afar.”

“I disagree.” Lin Qimian’s finger tapped lightly. “From a distance, clouds lend it beauty, but it’s forever out of reach. Up close, you glimpse its true nature—as if you could hold it in your hand.”

She smiled. “But of course, the moon has never belonged to any one person.”

They played late into the night.

By the time they said goodnight, the moon had shifted to the other side of the sky.

Xu Yueliang reminded Lin Qimian to rest well. The soup she’d simmered was still in the pot—have a bowl after sleeping in tomorrow, and it’d chase away any lingering chills.

But she couldn’t stay for breakfast. Vacation was over; she had to head home early and get back to work.

Lin Qimian promised she would. The next morning, sounds stirred from the next room over, and she opened her eyes.

She listened as Xu Yueliang left the bedroom, as she washed up, then as her footsteps padded cautiously to the door. With a soft click, it shut.

Silence settled over everything.

Anticipation. Romance. Heat. Fantasy.

Lin Qimian lay there awake for a while, feeling for the first time that this home she’d built herself was cold and stark—not the warm hues it should have.

Fortunately, at ten o’clock, a message pinged from Xu Yueliang, checking if Mianmian was up yet, if she’d had the soup, if the cold had come back.

Lin Qimian replied, asking her: [What are you doing?]

Xu Yueliang said she was doing her makeup, prepping her look for the stream. It was a special day, so the broadcast would start earlier than usual.

Lin Qimian called her right away, answering her questions while listening to the chatter of her voice amid the bustle.

They talked straight through until 11, when Xu Yueliang was all set with half an hour to go before going live.

Lin Qimian asked, “Starting this early today—what time will it wrap up tonight?”

Xu Yueliang: “Twelve o’clock.”

Lin Qimian: “That’s half an hour more than usual.”

Xu Yueliang: “There are two hours of rest time in the afternoon, but we’ll be recording a ten-minute interview.”

She paused for a moment. “I’ve talked it over with Yun Jie. After National Day, my entire live streaming schedule will be adjusted.”

Lin Qimian: “Oh? Adjusted how?”

Xu Yueliang took a deep breath, as if she were announcing a decision that would let down the entire world. “Same as most of the streamers signed under her—from six in the afternoon to 11 at night, with one fixed day off every week.”

Lin Qimian burst into laughter. “That’s a great adjustment. It’s good for your health and will extend your career.”

Xu Yueliang quickly added, “But in my free time, I’ll study more and try out other kinds of work. Yun Jie mentioned a gala opportunity for me—on Satellite TV!”

“Ah, that’s fantastic. Congratulations.” Lin Qimian’s voice lifted at the end. “Now I can watch Little Moon dance on TV.”

“Mm!” Xu Yueliang exclaimed. “I’ll work hard! No… I won’t embarrass Doctor Lin!”

“You’ve never done anything to be embarrassed about,” Lin Qimian said. “Our Little Moon is diligent and brave. She works tirelessly, relying on her own strength and unwavering effort to climb to the top of her industry and claim the rewards she deserves. She’s an outstanding example among today’s youth.”

“Ah…” Xu Yueliang went still for a long moment before sniffing back her emotions. “Doctor Lin, you have to read the award speech at my annual meeting.”

Lin Qimian agreed without hesitation. “Okay.”

Xu Yueliang laughed. “How come you say yes to everything I ask…”

The two chatted a while longer, until her live stream was about to begin. Then they hung up.

Xu Yueliang appeared on camera. Today she had her hair in twin buns, and she wore a pink qipao embroidered with twining floral branches. Her smile was sweet, her features delicate and endearing.

A massive wave of viewers poured into the Live Streaming Room. The screen was instantly drowned in a flood of white bullet comments.

Blending in among the newcomers, Lin Qimian officially registered the throwaway tourist account she’d used a few times before. She gave it a plain, unremarkable name: Mumu.

Xu Yueliang cupped her hands toward the screen, accompanied by upbeat, festive music full of New Year’s greetings. “Hello to all my new and old friends~~ Welcome to my live stream~~ It’s so lively today—the comments are dazzling my eyes~~ If you come back tomorrow, I’ll read every single name~~”

“Now I’ll pick randomly. Whoever catches my eye gets a welcome—and a little red packet. The sixth lucky viewer can even request a song, a dance, or a joke~~”

The bullet comments went absolutely wild, scrolling so fast that auto-hide couldn’t keep up. They covered half of Xu Yueliang’s face.

Lin Qimian didn’t block them. In the past, when watching streams, she’d greedily soak in every glimpse of Xu Yueliang’s face—every smile, every gesture. Now, she paid attention to every comment about her, every voice reaching out across the internet to connect with her.

Xu Yueliang read off a few usernames. The winners erupted in excitement.

When she got to the sixth, Xu Yueliang squinted at the screen, then leaned right up to her computer. Her pretty face suddenly filled the frame, and the chat exploded with “aaaaaaah.”

Lin Qimian’s fingertip tapped lightly. She sent a single bullet comment: 【1】.

It was her way of entering the draw.

But it was too calm, too understated. Her plain white username, paired with that lone 1, stood out barely at all amid a frenzy of endless 【11111111111111111】s.

Truth be told, she wasn’t after any prize or a chance to get close to the streamer.

After all, the streamer had shared meals and a home with her for two whole days. What could be more intimate than that?

Lin Qimian felt utterly content, deeply satisfied.

She simply wanted to join the ranks of Little Moon’s viewers, to add one small spark to the celebration. Or… perhaps to see if the goddess of fate might bestow some whimsical blessing.

The thought had barely crossed her mind—

“Mumu,” Xu Yueliang read aloud.

Lin Qimian froze.

Smiling, Xu Yueliang settled back into her chair. She propped her chin in both hands and called out again, her eyes curving into happy crescents. “Mumu~”

Then she asked a question that came out of nowhere: “Do you like kapok flowers~~”