Time marched into November, and the weather in S City grew ever colder. Yet Xu Yueliang found herself enveloped in an unprecedented warmth that filled her days.
That warmth stemmed from Lin Qimian, who was staying in the hotel directly across from her apartment.
Every morning, they set the same alarm. From the moment they opened their eyes, messages flew back and forth between them. Sometimes they even hopped on a voice call, listening together to the sounds of each other brushing their teeth and washing up.
Then they headed out together for breakfast. Xu Yueliang would see Lin Qimian off to work before strolling leisurely back to her apartment to start her day.
Her streams ended too late at night for Xu Yueliang to bear keeping Lin Qimian waiting, so they shifted dinner to a more reasonable hour—right after Lin Qimian got home from work, during the break between Xu Yueliang’s two evening sessions.
Lin Qimian had kept every promise she’d made, and in return, Xu Yueliang took her to all the best eateries nearby.
They chatted effortlessly over meals. At first, Xu Yueliang would blush at her own tangled thoughts, but as time passed, the shyness shed its anxiety, leaving only a cozy intimacy.
It was like soaking in a tub of comfortably hot water—one that drew a light sheen of sweat, opened your pores, washed away the day’s fatigue, and left you feeling joyful and content.
Happiness, that abstract notion, had become a tangible reality in Xu Yueliang’s life, wrapping her in its embrace.
That energy radiated outward too. Viewers in her live stream room often commented on how great she looked lately, and she flashed brilliant smiles even at the hotel lobby staff when greeting them.
Then, late at night when all was quiet, Xu Yueliang would draw back the living room curtains, sprawl on her sofa bed, and gaze at the brightly lit high-rise across the street. To one particular window, she penned a letter.
She sorted through her emotions but only dared express a fraction of them.
She had so much more to tell Lin Qimian, but she carefully selected only the most delightful bits.
She wanted Lin Qimian to see her flaws, her less-than-perfect side. Yet whenever they were together, her spirits soared. She brimmed with anticipation, fueled by a sense of invincible drive. She felt better than ever.
So she always fell short of her goal by a wide margin.
Day after day, though, Lin Qimian’s hotel bills kept piling up!
Xu Yueliang had checked the rates, but she didn’t know what room type Lin Qimian had booked. Lin Qimian never said, only mentioning discount coupons from friends that made it cheap.
As if there were endless coupons and generous friends to go around.
Xu Yueliang wasn’t naive. She had a mental calculator tallying every debt she owed Lin Qimian. When it hit a level she couldn’t bear, she’d call a halt.
Her performance at the B City gala had gone well, leading to more offers.
Recently, she’d locked in two projects: a video ad shoot for a brand and a small-scale dance drama.
With dates set and coordination needed with the dance troupe, and both gigs in B City, she simply requested an extended leave and headed out to knock them both out in one trip.
She posted a leave notice in her live stream room, and the fans wailed in protest.
Unlike the backlash she’d faced before, her female fans mostly pouted and whined playfully. The worst of it was lines like, “Moon’s abandoning us! I won’t be able to sleep without your streams!”
They piled on, building a towering thread under her notice.
Xu Yueliang’s heart warmed. She quickly posted an update, promising at least one daily post during her break—sharing snippets of her life and a nine-grid of selfies.
The comments erupted in cheers.
Girls were so soft, so sweetly demanding, so easy to soothe.
Except… Lin Qimian.
Xu Yueliang shut down her computer and mulled it over for a good while before daring to send her a message: [Doctor Lin, what time will you be home today?]
On the desk, the phone buzzed twice. Zhenzhen looked up at once. “Teacher Lin, you have a message.”
Lin Qimian was examining a patient and merely hummed in acknowledgment.
Half a minute later, she set down her instruments. “The wound’s healing nicely. You can stop the meds now.”
After seeing the patient out, Lin Qimian removed her mask and instructed Zhenzhen, “Don’t mention phone notifications when patients are around.”
Zhenzhen hesitated. “But it’s that phone.”
Lin Qimian: “…”
Zhenzhen pressed on. “A WeChat notification.”
Lin Qimian: “…”
Zhenzhen shot her a sly, knowing glance. Lin Qimian cleared her throat and picked up the phone.
It was indeed an important message—an important one from Xu Yueliang.
With nothing pressing today, she could wrap up early.
Lin Qimian tapped away at her keyboard, then suddenly remembered that Xu Yueliang liked the sound of her voice. She turned her back to the room and sent over a voice message.
When she turned around, Zhenzhen was staring at her, eyes wide as saucers.
Lin Qimian straightened up the things on her desk. “Send Director Yan the materials they asked for.”
Zhenzhen nodded. “Already did.”
Lin Qimian smiled faintly. “Good. See you tomorrow.”
Zhenzhen pumped her fist. “Yes! I knew I was right!”
Lin Qimian just smiled and let it slide.
Ever since that rumor had spread about her having a partner, nearly everyone in the hospital had been dying to figure out who it was.
Zhenzhen had cornered her a few times for answers, her guesses growing wilder by the minute—all shot down by Lin Qimian.
So Zhenzhen had taken to watching her phone, eavesdropping on calls and texts, even scrutinizing her every expression for clues.
By now, she had everything pegged except the one crucial detail: the person’s identity.
Lin Qimian stepped out of the Clinic Room, her spirits lifting at the thought of seeing Xu Yueliang soon.
The drive was smooth sailing—probably because she’d beaten the evening rush hour, or maybe the heavens themselves didn’t want to stand in the way of their date.
Music drifted through the car speakers while a brilliant sunset painted the world outside. Everything felt perfect.
Until she parked, walked into the restaurant, and the stunning Xu Yueliang greeted her with, “Doctor Lin, you should move back.”
Lin Qimian blinked. “????”
Xu Yueliang offered an awkward little smile. “I’ve got a business trip tomorrow. Won’t be back for five or six days.”
Lin Qimian’s knife and fork clinked sharply against her plate. “Five or six days isn’t that long.”
Xu Yueliang pressed on. “Your hotel runs at least 580 a night. The best VIP discount I could find was twenty percent off—that’s a minimum of 464 bucks per day. Over five or six days? That’s two thousand something, pushing three grand!”
Lin Qimian arched a brow. “…You’re pretty good at math.”
Xu Yueliang grinned sheepishly. “I pulled out the calculator on my phone while I was waiting for you. Heh.”
Heh, indeed.
Lin Qimian looked up at her.
Xu Yueliang rubbed her hands together. “It’s just day by day anyway. If not now, you could wait till I get back and then… and then…”
Lin Qimian leaned in, a hint of frustration in her voice. “And then what? You’re still asking me to move in?”
Xu Yueliang’s brows drooped, her whole demeanor deflating. “It’s not that I don’t want you to. It’s just… it doesn’t feel right.”
She had a point—it wasn’t right. Lin Qimian had never gone to such lengths for anyone but Xu Yueliang.
She did it all willingly, even joyfully, as if it were her privilege. Xu Yueliang knew she could afford it, but she was always tallying things up, weighing who’d given more and who’d given less so far.
A pang of sadness hit Lin Qimian. These past few days together had made her bold enough to assume they’d moved past stranger and friend into something truly intimate…
But clearly, Xu Yueliang’s walls were still standing.
“It’s fine,” Lin Qimian said. “I’ll head back tonight.”
Xu Yueliang’s face filled with guilt as she blurted, “Let me help you pack your things, then…”
Lin Qimian shook her head. “No need. Just a few clothes—I can toss them in the car and go.”
Xu Yueliang fell quiet, watching her with wide, glistening eyes, like a puppy that knew it’d done wrong.
The food arrived, and Lin Qimian nudged her. “Eat.”
Xu Yueliang nodded vigorously, chattering about the dishes and piling them onto Lin Qimian’s plate with infectious enthusiasm.
Under that onslaught of cheer, Lin Qimian’s disappointment melted away in a mere two minutes.
“Is this the dance drama you mentioned before?” she asked, steering the conversation to something Xu Yueliang cared about. “Heading to B City? Got the role locked down yet?”
“Not yet—I’m going for the audition,” Xu Yueliang said at once. “The director sent over a bunch of video clips for me to pick from.”
Lin Qimian smiled. “That’s impressive.”
Xu Yueliang beamed back. “This time it’ll be old hat, since there’s the ad shoot too. Yun Jie thinks it’s a big deal—she’s coming with me.”
Lin Qimian’s knife paused mid-slice. “Not going solo, then.”
Xu Yueliang nodded eagerly. “Nope! And they’ll reimburse all the travel expenses!”
She threw herself into her post-transition career with seriousness and excitement.
The conversation flowed easily from there, smoothing over the earlier awkwardness. After dinner, Xu Yueliang insisted on walking Lin Qimian to the hotel lobby. She even hit the elevator button, waited for it to arrive, watched her step inside, and waved goodbye.
Her service was impeccable, like that of a five-star concierge.
As the doors slid shut, Lin Qimian let out a soft sigh.
The elevator dinged, and she headed toward her room. She’d taken only two steps when her phone buzzed twice.
The special rhythm that even Zhenzhen would have noticed.
Lin Qimian unlocked her phone. Xu Yueliang had sent her a barrage of cute emoji stickers, followed by: 【I’m going to give Mumu some special treatment~~】
Mumu—that wasn’t how Xu Yueliang usually addressed her.
Lin Qimian opened Orange Live and spotted the leave-of-absence notice posted by her specially followed streamer, Little Moon, along with a promise to her fans.
She was already sharing her daily life with her fans, even posting nine-panel selfies. How much more special could the treatment get for her?
The corners of Lin Qimian’s lips curved upward as she replied: 【I’m looking forward to it.】
That evening, Lin Qimian returned to her own home. She soaked in a relaxing bath, then settled into the chair she had carefully picked out herself and read for a while.
As bedtime approached, a message from Xu Yueliang popped up: 【This is today’s letter for Mianmian.】
But nothing followed.
Lin Qimian found it odd. She leaned back against the chair, staring at the empty screen.
In the past, Xu Yueliang never announced her letters ahead of time. They would simply appear at some random moment when the moon hung in the sky—a long string of words, like an irregular nightly sweet treat.
Lin Qimian needed to savor that treat before she could fall asleep peacefully.
Her fingertips tapped lightly on the desk as she silently counted in her mind. If no message came in half a minute, she’d have to ask.
With Xu Yueliang, she was never satisfied. Once she got a taste of those little perks, even the occasional absence clawed at her heart, impossible to bear.
At twenty-nine seconds, the new message finally appeared.
It was like Xu Yueliang had timed it perfectly to strike right at her heart—to make her anxious, restless, her pulse racing.
Xu Yueliang had sent a video.
The thumbnail was pitch black, and the file was large. When Lin Qimian tapped it, it took a moment to download automatically.
Probably just about as long as Xu Yueliang wanted her to wait.
The video finally started playing. The dark screen shook slightly, and a soft voice whispered intimately through the speaker: “Doctor Lin~”
The sound made Lin Qimian’s ears tingle.
Xu Yueliang chuckled lowly. “It’s so embarrassing like this~”
Lin Qimian thought: You never feel embarrassed, no matter what you do, you shy little weirdo.
Xu Yueliang continued, “I borrowed Doctor Lin’s playbook. I figured seeing me and hearing me would make you feel it even more~~”
Lin Qimian thought: True enough, but where are you? The screen’s still black, you idiot.
Xu Yueliang said, “I made Doctor Lin mad today, but I really feel bad about her money, and about how she hasn’t been home for days. Nowhere’s as comfy as home, right~~”
Lin Qimian thought: Excuses.
Xu Yueliang went on, “Anyway, when you do something wrong, you get punished. When you feel guilty, you make it up. Today is special treatment day one~~”
The screen finally brightened. Xu Yueliang’s pale, tender palm moved away—it had been covering the camera the whole time.
“This is specially for Doctor Lin to see.” Xu Yueliang’s voice was laced with shy embarrassment. “Doctor Lin likes pink.”
Lin Qimian closed her eyes and hit pause, letting out a long breath.
Xu Yueliang had dressed herself up as a pink leopard.
Before her rebrand, Xu Yueliang’s streaming style had occasionally veered into sexy territory. Afterward, she’d pivoted to a mix of beauty, food, comedy, dumb antics, fitness, and dance.
Lin Qimian had seen it multiple times—forums popping up with posts reminiscing about the old Little Moon, digging up and recirculating her past videos. Invariably, commenters would chime in that the current Little Moon had lost her original flavor.
That flavor.
Lin Qimian wanted to tell them they hadn’t seen the real thing.
When Xu Yueliang truly wanted to seduce you, she’d slip into a skin-tight pink leopard-print bodysuit, top it with fluffy ears and a long tail, and purr right at you: “Meow~”
“Meow~~” Xu Yueliang mewled in the video. Then her whole face flushed red with shame. She covered it with her hands and squatted down, whimpering to herself, “Wahhh, this is too much, even for me…”
