Lin Xianing’s muscle strain wasn’t too severe. As long as she didn’t overdo it, a few days of rest would get her back on set.
The crew urgently rearranged the filming schedule, pushing all the intense action scenes to later. By then, Lin Xianing’s injury should have mostly healed.
As for Le Yiqiu, she ended up staying at Lin Xianing’s place.
When she went back to pack her things, a taxi had barely reached the entrance of her complex before a swarm of reporters blocked her way.
“Miss Le, is it true that Teacher Lin got hurt on set?”
“How serious is Teacher Lin’s injury?”
“Teacher Lin’s already out of the hospital—why didn’t she come home with you? Have you two fallen out?”
There were even more outrageous questions than that.
At first, they had just been sneaking photos, but now they were openly surrounding her for interviews. Only the intervention of the complex’s security guards allowed her to break free.
When she emerged with her packed bags, worried about another blockade, she had Chen Tao drive the car back from the hospital, then slipped away by car.
With her home exposed, it wasn’t just paparazzi staking her out—crazed fans might show up too.
The place wasn’t safe for Lin Xianing anymore.
Not even for Le Yiqiu. Leaving aside whether they would divorce, as long as they were partners for a single day, countless fans would hold it against her.
Even if they did divorce, those fans would probably side with their idol and take it out on her anyway.
Maybe it really was time to move.
For the first time, the thought crossed Le Yiqiu’s mind. The house had been meant to preserve memories of her grandmother, but after the full renovation, nothing of her grandmother remained—no furnishings, no traces. Her grandmother’s presence had vanished without a shadow.
She couldn’t understand what twenty-eight-year-old her had been thinking. She owned so many properties—why not just pick one of the wedding homes? Why remodel this one, erasing every sign that her grandmother had ever lived there?
The renovated house was no longer the home where she and her grandmother had relied on each other.
She had clung to her grandmother’s lingering image for comfort, drawing a thread of warmth into her lonely life.
But now that image was gone, surviving only in memory. Whether they moved or not hardly seemed to matter anymore.
If the house hadn’t been renovated, she might not have decided so easily.
With every trace of her grandmother erased, the house had lost its original meaning.
Le Yiqiu hadn’t agreed to move in with Lin Xianing for the reason she’d stated aloud—and mainly because their marriage was fake.
Their union was a sham; there was no need to move into Lin Xianing’s home.
Even if they started dating for real now, moving in together would be rushing things.
The only reason for cohabitation was to avoid anyone noticing their marriage had crumbled.
A fake marriage couldn’t last long anyway. Lin Xianing had already given her the divorce agreement—just waiting for her signature.
Once she signed, they could head to the Civil Affairs Bureau for the paperwork, and that would be the end of it. No more ties between them.
…
When Le Yiqiu returned to Lin Xianing’s house, she found Lin Xianing curled up on the sofa, reading a book.
She looked like a lazy kitten—adorably so, no matter the angle.
Chen Tao had driven the car over and naturally came along. She set the luggage down and promptly offered to leave. “Boss, Teacher Le—if there’s nothing else, I’ll head out.”
Lin Xianing glanced up with a soft “Mm,” then eyed the stack of suitcases.
Five or six in total. The smallest one was Le Yiqiu’s.
She really didn’t have many clothes. Ever since joining the crew, she’d been too busy to shop, just rotating through her existing wardrobe. It was all sportswear, day in and day out—nothing fresh—but it did make her look energetic.
Once Chen Tao left, Le Yiqiu nudged her suitcases further in. “Where should I put these?”
Lin Xianing’s place was decorated to feel incredibly spacious. One glance across the open layout was a visual treat.
But it lacked privacy. Fine for solo living, less so for hosting friends.
Le Yiqiu scanned the room but couldn’t spot a closet anywhere.
Lin Xianing didn’t answer. Instead, she raised her voice slightly. “Er Niu, open the closet.”
A thin partition wall in the bedroom area slid open, revealing a massive walk-in closet inside.
Hidden away like that—classic Lin Xianing.
Le Yiqiu chuckled. “What on earth were you thinking when you decorated this place?”
Lin Xianing was at a loss for words. The remodel had been several years back, when she was just into her early twenties and deep in her chuunibyou phase.
Her fans and netizens saw her as an aloof, ethereal fairy, but privately she was a total shut-in, obsessed with anime and games—a diehard into her world.
Her head was full of wild fantasies back then, though she kept a straight face on the surface, giving off that high-and-mighty vibe.
Most clothes in a celebrity’s closet came from brand friends or sponsors. She rarely bought any herself, unless for a specific event—then it was custom pieces, high-end loans from luxury houses that wouldn’t lend just anything.
Looking at this closet now, compared to her own back home, Le Yiqiu could only sigh in inferiority.
She neatly packed away Lin Xianing’s things first, then hit a snag with her own. “Where should I put mine?”
Lin Xianing appeared engrossed in her book, but her gaze kept flicking toward Le Yiqiu.
She was pleased to see her own clothes sorted so meticulously, categories clear—perfect for her OCD tendencies.
Only then did she notice the small suitcase.
Was Le Yiqiu really moving in?
Earlier, Le Yiqiu had suggested coming over during the day and heading home at night. But with Lin Xianing injured, someone had to stay—either her or Chen Tao.
She hadn’t fully decided yet when Chen Tao laid out the reality with a sigh. “Boss, photos of you leaving the hospital are already out there.”
“They’ll be swarming the complex entrance soon. They’ve got video of our car pulling in.”
“If Teacher Le goes back alone and leaves the boss here by herself, the internet will explode with bad rumors about you two.”
Things like marriage troubles or deceiving the public. They might even spin worse lies.
Online, truth hardly mattered—just mindless mobbing.
After Chen Tao’s breakdown, Le Yiqiu stopped hesitating and committed to staying a few days.
She’d planned it back at the hospital, only to be thrown by how open Lin Xianing’s place was.
She dreaded forgetting to close the curtains one day, then diving into the bathroom for a shower.
Or having Lin Xianing out there, watching intently and critiquing her figure.
Just imagining it sent heat rushing to her face, turning it beet red.
Lin Xianing blinked at Le Yiqiu’s sudden flush. It was deep autumn—surely not that warm?
“Put it wherever.”
The place was huge; one little suitcase would fit anywhere.
Lin Xianing shot a disdainful glance at the tiny bag, then wheeled herself over to the closet and stood to rummage down a pile of new clothes from the top shelf.
They were still packaged, tags intact.
Le Yiqiu hovered anxiously beside her, terrified she’d slip and fall. “What do you need? Let me get it.”
When Lin Xianing reached for something higher, Le Yiqiu hurriedly pressed her back into the wheelchair to stop her.
Lin Xianing didn’t insist. She settled back obediently, even scooted the chair back a bit, and watched Le Yiqiu fetch the clothes.
She endorsed her own brand and rarely wore competitors’. Friends sent heaps she could never finish.
From those, she’d pick two or three to wear out—a nod to the gesture—and soon her closet overflowed with untouched pieces.
Lin Xianing gestured at the pile on the floor. “Pick out some you like from these.”
Le Yiqiu got it right away. “For me?”
“Mm.” Lin Xianing nodded for her to choose.
Le Yiqiu saw nothing wrong with it. She carefully selected a couple she liked, then moved to put the rest back.
Lin Xianing pulled her aside wordlessly, rummaged for ages, and curated over twenty pieces.
“Take these out of their packaging, sort them by color and type, and toss them in the washer.”
The house had two balconies: one for laundry, the other for plants and afternoon tea.
Le Yiqiu stared at the mini-mountain of clothes and paused. “Isn’t this a bit much?”
She had simple tastes—stylish and comfy, no repeats for a week. This stack might outlast her.
Lin Xianing didn’t think so. Over twenty pieces sounded like a lot, but it was just the tip of her closet’s iceberg.
Pull them out, and the closet barely looked emptier.
That was the gap between stars and civilians. Regular folks filled a closet and called it plenty; celebs crammed massive rooms and wanted more.
Many stars never rewore an outfit after one go.
Lin Xianing was better—she kept her worn pieces and passed on gifted ones she didn’t keep.
Plus, she had her own unannounced brand.
Half the clothes she’d picked for Le Yiqiu were from it.
Unaware of their origins, Le Yiqiu obeyed Lin Xianing’s unwavering gaze, hauling them off to wash and dry in the machine.
Then Lin Xianing insisted on styling them, making her try each one on.
Le Yiqiu felt like a dress-up doll, entertainment for Lin Xianing’s downtime.
She had to admit, though—Lin Xianing had impeccable taste. Basic pieces transformed under her styling.
Standing before a wall of mirrors, Le Yiqiu stared at this unfamiliar version of herself, a touch dazed.
As a child, her grandmother loved dressing her like a little princess, buying every kind of gown.
Since her grandmother passed, it had been baggy sportswear—maybe because no one dressed her anymore, or maybe because of that silhouette.
“What are you thinking about?” Lin Xianing had appeared behind her at some point.
Le Yiqiu didn’t hide it. “I miss my grandma.”
“Were you close with her?”
Since they’d met, Lin Xianing had never asked about Le Yiqiu’s family, nor had Le Yiqiu volunteered anything.
What kind of married couple didn’t even know each other’s backgrounds? Clearly, neither took the marriage seriously.
Then again, it was fake. Why would they?
