Lin Qimian arrived on the third floor.
The lobby on the first floor was crowded with people, but the remote northern corridor on the third floor was all but deserted.
Xu Yueliang’s toes tapped lightly against the floor, keeping a steady rhythm.
Lin Qimian drew near and heard her softly counting the beats under her breath—one, two, three, four; two, two, three, four.
She danced with utter focus, facing the small window at the end of the corridor, her back held ramrod straight in a posture of proud defiance.
Lin Qimian came to a halt just a step away, watching her in silence.
All the station required was a minute and a half of dance—a brief segment to bridge the preceding song and the group routine that followed, highlighting the diversity of contemporary youth culture.
Xu Yueliang completed the sequence without a single pause, then launched straight into a second repetition.
By the time Lin Qimian watched her begin the third round, the dust accumulated on the corridor floor had been scuffed away into a series of clean circles by her feet.
“Moon,” Lin Qimian said.
Her voice was soft, but in the empty space, it rang out clear and distinct. Xu Yueliang’s body jolted, and she stopped dancing.
Yet she didn’t turn around. She didn’t respond.
She simply stood there, the thin fabric of her performance outfit leaving her slender arms and legs exposed to the air, the ribbons hanging limply as if a mere breath of wind might unravel her entirely.
“I’m here,” Lin Qimian said, her throat dry and raspy. “Sorry—I couldn’t get through to your phone. I got worried.”
Xu Yueliang’s shoulders began to tremble, though she was still fighting to hold herself together.
Lin Qimian couldn’t bear it any longer. She strode forward and, in an instant, caught sight of the shimmering pool of tears welling in Xu Yueliang’s eyes. A sharp pang twisted in her chest.
She reached out and pulled Xu Yueliang into her arms, holding her close and tight.
Beneath Lin Qimian’s palm, the skin of Xu Yueliang’s back was smooth and soft, cool as the waters of an autumn lake.
Lin Qimian pressed even closer, molding their bodies together so that her arms could fully enfold the other woman, sharing her own warmth.
“You’re freezing,” Lin Qimian murmured with a frown. “Are you cold?”
Xu Yueliang’s head was buried against her chest. At last, she stirred, nodding as her hair brushed against the hollow of Lin Qimian’s neck.
“Where’s your coat?” Lin Qimian asked. “Your bag? Your phone?”
Xu Yueliang shook her head.
Lin Qimian stroked her back. “Did they take them? Tell me where, and I’ll go get them.”
Xu Yueliang shook her head even harder, the motion tugging loose a button on Lin Qimian’s shirt.
Cool tears brushed against her skin, one droplet sliding down to land squarely over her heart.
“Alright,” Lin Qimian said, yielding to her. “We won’t get them, then.”
She shrugged off her own jacket—thank goodness she’d worn one—and draped the gray suit coat over Xu Yueliang’s back. It looked far warmer already.
Lin Qimian held her for a good while longer. Xu Yueliang’s tears flowed freely; even without a sound, they soaked through to drench Lin Qimian’s entire chest.
Her arms were raised too, little fists clenched tight against Lin Qimian’s front.
Lin Qimian cupped the back of her head, her fingers gently massaging in slow, soothing strokes.
Xu Yueliang’s muscles were rigid with tension; Lin Qimian could feel her pulse thrumming through her skin into her fingertips.
At long last, Xu Yueliang sniffled and let out a choked whimper. “Doctor Lin… I’m okay now…”
But no sooner had the words left her lips than a violent sob seized her, her whole body shuddering.
Lin Qimian quickly fished a tissue from her pocket. She eased back just enough to bend down and wipe away the tears, then pinched Xu Yueliang’s nose to help her blow.
Xu Yueliang snatched the tissue herself and wailed softly, “This is so embarrassing…”
“What’s embarrassing about it?” Lin Qimian ruffled her hair. “Tears always bring snot along for the ride. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve cleaned you up.”
Xu Yueliang huffed a couple of times, scrubbing fiercely at her face until she’d wiped herself clean.
Her makeup had smeared in the process, leaving the tissue streaked with black and red.
“Woo…” Xu Yueliang whimpered.
Lin Qimian eyed the tissue. “It’s fine. We’ll fix your makeup later.”
Xu Yueliang kept her head down. “I don’t have a makeup artist. No one’s here to do it for me…”
It was an unfair situation, plain bullying—yet her voice came out so soft and pitiable, carrying no hint of resentment toward anyone, only self-reproach for her own weakness.
Lin Qimian let out a quiet breath and gripped her shoulders.
“Moon,” she said, calling her by name.
Xu Yueliang looked up at her, lashes still damp, the corners of her eyes and the tip of her nose flushed red.
“I have two plans for handling this,” Lin Qimian said. “In the first, you hand everything over to me, and I’ll make sure you get the best treatment here today and tomorrow. In the second, I do nothing at all, but I’ll stay by your side until you’ve sorted out this mess.”
Xu Yueliang blinked in confusion. Lin Qimian added, “Take your time to think it over. There’s no rush.”
Xu Yueliang stared blankly for a long moment, her eyelashes fluttering as she blinked. Then, in a small voice, she asked, “Doctor Lin, do you know what happened to me?”
Lin Qimian replied, “I have a rough idea.”
Xu Yueliang waved a hand. “They’re not targeting me personally. It’s people like me—all of us.”
She tried hard to explain it to Lin Qimian. “They’re from the station, you see. The station runs on that old bureaucratic system where rank alone can crush you. This gala has tons of participants. It’s impossible to look after everyone, so some people inevitably get overlooked and end up feeling wronged.”
Xu Yueliang pointed at herself. “With my status, my experience, my background—I’m the one who’s going to get wronged. It couldn’t be anyone else.”
“I should have realized that,” she said, pausing to draw a deep breath. “I just never thought I’d be this fragile. The moment I stepped on stage, my mind went completely blank…”
Here, Xu Yueliang couldn’t hold back any longer. Tears spilled down her cheeks again.
She wiped them away with one hand while saying, “So it’s okay. As long as I overcome my own issues, that’s all that matters. As long as I can get on stage and finish the performance, I’m good.
“The rest isn’t my problem. There’s nothing I can do about it, and it has nothing to do with me.”
Sniffling through the words, Xu Yueliang stealthily slipped a hand into the pocket of her gray suit jacket, pulled out a tissue, and dabbed carefully at her tears.
Lin Qimian knew Xu Yueliang was smart, but she hadn’t realized just how clear-eyed she was—or how well she could talk herself through it.
She seemed as soft as a pool of water, ready to spill over at the slightest touch. Yet when confronted with the harsh realities of her career, she proved as resilient and unyielding as a sword that would never break.
“You’re incredible,” Lin Qimian said sincerely.
Xu Yueliang’s lips quivered, her face on the verge of crumpling into tears, but she tilted her head up and flashed a smile. “Of course I am! I’m the top streamer in Orange’s Dance District. I’ve dealt with way worse than this—it’s all small potatoes!”
“Alright then…” Lin Qimian glanced around. “I’m starving. Does the top streamer want to treat her friend who traveled all this way to a meal?”
“Ah!” Xu Yueliang cried out. “You haven’t eaten?”
Lin Qimian pressed a hand to her stomach. “I couldn’t get through to your phone, so I skipped lunch and came straight here.”
“Oh…” Xu Yueliang stared at her, her face turning bright red in an instant.
She snatched up the suit jacket and draped it back over Lin Qimian’s shoulders. Then she grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the door.
“There’s a mall right outside where we can eat, but I need to grab my clothes and phone first,” Xu Yueliang said, taking charge. “Doctor Lin, what do you feel like? If your stomach’s bothering you, we’ll keep it light. If you’re just hungry, how about some B City specialties?”
Lin Qimian followed along, her eyes on the playful tuft of hair bouncing at the nape of Xu Yueliang’s neck. “Won’t this mess up your rehearsal?”
“It’s break time,” Xu Yueliang said, then paused. “Besides, my… stuff is all sorted in the back anyway.”
“Perfect,” Lin Qimian said. “Then let’s get something delicious.”
Xu Yueliang moved with impressive speed. Determined not to let Lin Qimian go hungry any longer, she even broke into a jog.
She quickly grabbed her bag, changed into her everyday clothes, splashed water on her face to scrub away the worst of the smeared makeup, and then led Lin Qimian out of the Broadcast Building and into the mall next door.
She’d only been in B City for half a day, spending most of it cooped up in the Broadcast Building, but Xu Yueliang had already mapped out every good food spot nearby.
She tugged Lin Qimian into a restaurant and enthusiastically introduced her to the menu. Lin Qimian requested a private booth, and they settled in.
The meal felt just like any other they’d shared before.
Xu Yueliang happily picked morsels of food for Lin Qimian, shoveled down her own bites with gusto, and kept up a lively stream of chatter to ensure the time passed enjoyably.
As they finished up, she patted her belly. “I should be good to go for rehearsal now.”
“Mm,” Lin Qimian said. “The human digestive system is remarkably efficient.”
Xu Yueliang glanced up. She’d meant to check Lin Qimian’s stomach for any hint of a food baby, but her gaze snagged instead on her chest.
Lin Qimian’s shirt—that clearly expensive shirt—was a wrinkled mess from their earlier tussle.
The button that had come undone hadn’t been refastened. Her collar hung crookedly to one side, exposing a swath of pale, snowy skin and the elegant line of her collarbone.
Xu Yueliang’s gaze drifted upward to Lin Qimian’s face.
Even without any makeup at all, that beautiful face paired with her aloof expression was enough to lend Lin Qimian an air of refined elegance far beyond the ordinary.
Xu Yueliang recalled what she had said and asked softly, “Doctor Lin, were you serious about that earlier?”
Lin Qimian tilted her head slightly. “When?”
Xu Yueliang clarified, “When you laid out those two options for me.”
Lin Qimian nodded. “Yes, completely serious.”
Xu Yueliang cupped her face in her hands, her eyes sparkling like a lovestruck teenager fawning over her favorite idol drama. “So domineering! Such a total CEO vibe~~~”
Lin Qimian blinked. “…”
Xu Yueliang went on dreamily, “It feels like if I just say yes, it’ll all come crashing down—the TV station’s finished, and it’ll belong to House Xu!”
Lin Qimian paused. “…Not quite that dramatic. The TV station belongs to the state.”
Xu Yueliang let out a bubbly laugh. “You’re right, you’re absolutely right.”
Lin Qimian found her behavior a little odd.
Her gestures and expressions seemed to belong to some other plane of existence altogether. She stared so intently, with that greedy yet utterly contented look on her face—so different from her usual self.
The intensity of her gaze made Lin Qimian squirm a bit.
It wasn’t unpleasant, exactly. More like… an itch deep in her chest, a flush creeping across her skin.
Lin Qimian looked away and lifted the teacup from the table for a sip of water.
Xu Yueliang sighed admiringly. “Even the way Doctor Lin drinks water is so~~~~ gorgeous~~~~~”
Lin Qimian nearly choked. She set the cup down and coughed lightly.
“Anyway…” Lin Qimian checked her wristwatch. “When’s your next rehearsal round?”
Xu Yueliang sprang to her feet at once. “You’re right, I should get going. Still need to find someplace to do my makeup…”
“Sit down,” Lin Qimian instructed.
Xu Yueliang froze mid-motion, her eyes fixed on her.
Lin Qimian’s gaze wavered for a moment. “I know you’ve chosen to make it on your own merits. I respect that, and I support you. But… now that I’m here, won’t you let me actually help somehow?”
Xu Yueliang stammered, “Ah, Doctor Lin, you’ve already…”
“I mean real, tangible help.” Lin Qimian cut her off, pulled out her phone, and sent off a voice message. “Teacher, come on in.”
The private room door swung open. In walked a makeup artist dressed in the height of fashion, her appearance polished to perfection and a warm smile on her face. Trailing behind her was a young assistant lugging a massive makeup case.
The pair greeted Xu Yueliang with friendly warmth.
Xu Yueliang flustered, bowing hastily. “Teacher, sorry to trouble you.”
“Take good care of Moon,” Lin Qimian said with a smile. “Make her absolutely dazzling for the stage—let her stun the whole crowd.”
