Qiao Qi didn’t see Li’ang’s messages until that evening while waiting for her scene.
The weather tonight was decent, not as scorching as the past few days. The set was bustling with people coming and going, lights blazing bright. A few child actors in beggar costumes ran around nearby, not minding the heat at all.
Tonight was a scene where Liang Yan and Qiao Qi together rescued a young beggar in the dead of night. The earlier part wasn’t a big scene, but there were some explosion effects later on. The props team and crew had started preparing for this scene half a month in advance, all so that tonight’s shoot could go smoothly.
To match the night scenes, the director had scheduled filming for after eight in the evening. Some actors without much to do had wrapped early.
As for Qiao Qi, she’d already been rushing around all day, and with such an important scene tonight, she didn’t even have time for a proper meal.
When Cheng Yueming and Xu Lu finished eating, they ordered a portion for Qiao Qi as well—a balanced mix of meat and vegetables, plus a cup of concentrated vitamin juice.
“Don’t run yourself into the ground.” Xu Lu opened the crew’s boxed meal in front of her, offering sincere advice, “Why not hire an assistant?”
Although Qiao Qi’s pay wasn’t high right now, she probably had enough to afford one.
Once the show was officially announced, all sorts of events big and small would likely come calling, and if she had to handle everything alone, she’d be swamped.
Qiao Qi first thanked Xu Lu for the dinner, then addressed the matter of an assistant, “I don’t need one for now—there’s not much going on.”
Xu Lu didn’t push further after hearing this. She could tell Qiao Qi was someone with strong opinions of her own; if Qiao Qi didn’t want something, no amount of persuading would help.
So she simply patted her on the shoulder, cheering her on instead, “Alright then, eat well, good luck tonight!”
Qiao Qi smiled and agreed.
She was sitting in a corner of the set at that moment. It wasn’t particularly bright there, but some distant lighting reached over, and in the dimness a faint layer of light traced the contours of her face, half-visible, half-hidden—only her eyes held a clear, bright smile.
She really was a very clean, unspoiled sort of person.
Any artist signed to Xu Lu’s company inevitably had to go down the path of marketing and hype. The company’s boss had come to the set once before and quite liked Qiao Qi; afterward he’d mentioned to her that if they could sign her, they should.
She knew the boss wasn’t really interested in Qiao Qi herself, but in Liang Yan standing beside her.
Being bound together with Liang Yan would guarantee her career path wouldn’t be difficult going forward.
But just now, in the instant Qiao Qi had looked up, Xu Lu suddenly found herself hesitating.
Someone like this—once placed in her hands, wouldn’t she quickly get a complete “makeover”?
What a shame that would be.
—
Qiao Qi stopped eating halfway through dinner; she wasn’t especially hungry, just thirsty, so she pushed the meal box aside and cradled a cup of dark green concentrated juice instead.
Her nails were painted green, her fingers slender and pale as scallion stalks—against the glass of concentrated juice, there was a certain harmony to it.
Just then, a small figure darted into the corner of her vision. Qiao Qi, straw still in her mouth, sensed something odd and turned her head, straw clenched between her teeth, to see a small child crouched down beside her.
The child wore a grubby beggar’s costume, hair deliberately mussed and unkempt—except for that face, white as congealed jade.
Which made her eyes look all the more dark and bright by contrast.
It was Maiya!
Qiao Qi froze, straw still in her mouth, staring blankly.
Maiya grinned foolishly, arms and legs spread wide, calling out in a babyish voice: “Surprise, Seventh Princess!!”
Qiao Qi, not yet recovered, tried to speak with the straw still in her mouth, and it hit the back of her throat—she couldn’t help but gag.
Seeing Qiao Qi gag, Maiya thought of how she herself vomited when unwell, and her face went pale with fright. “Are—are you not feeling well? Should we find Brother Fairy Tale to take a look?”
Seeing how badly frightened Maiya was, Qiao Qi hastily set the juice aside and pulled the child into her arms with a smile. “No, I just accidentally swallowed wrong on the straw.”
Her eyes were very gentle as she looked at Maiya; overhead the night sky was pitch black, and the few stars that occasionally flickered seemed to be reflected in her eyes.
She smiled and pinched Maiya’s cheek. “What are you doing here?” She pulled Maiya out of her embrace and looked her up and down. “And dressed like this?”
Maiya giggled “hehe” and covered her mouth mysteriously. “Not telling you.”
Qiao Qi raised an eyebrow and deliberately pinched at Maiya’s waist, tickling the child until she squirmed in her arms.
“You sure about that?”
“Ahh hahaha ahahaha, Seventh Princess, I was wrong, I was wrong!” Maiya laughed until she couldn’t stand it, finally collapsing into Qiao Qi’s arms and confessing everything. “A big sister brought me here!”
“Which big sister?” Qiao Qi asked, puzzled.
“Me.”
Qiao Qi looked up to see it was Xu Lu.
Seeing Xu Lu, Maiya greeted her brightly, “Sister Deer!”
Xu Lu smiled and ruffled her small head before turning to Qiao Qi. “Someone on the crew had a child who suddenly had something come up, and I thought of the little one you mentioned before, so I stopped by to see her. She missed you a lot.”
The smile on Qiao Qi’s lips gradually faded, and she said nothing.
Xu Lu knew what she was worried about, and knew this action of hers was a bit of “overstepping,” but she had her own purpose—only it wasn’t convenient to say it just yet, so she could only explain: “It won’t take up too much screen time, and look how dirty she is—once her little face gets smudged up more, no one will recognize her.”
She continued, slowly looking toward Qiao Qi, “Besides, don’t you want to leave a keepsake in your very first work?”
If Qiao Qi had still been struggling just a moment ago, she no longer hesitated now.
Xu Lu was right—since she’d been able to bring Maiya over, she must have looked into the situation at the hospital too. Maiya’s condition currently wasn’t very good; even if she had surgery in the future, her survival odds were only fifty percent.
If that other fifty percent could be poured into this show, she truly…
Couldn’t refuse.
So Qiao Qi gently pulled Maiya into her arms, not minding the dirt on her clothes and hair, and smiled as she stroked her head. After a good while, she finally looked up at Xu Lu. “Thank you.”
Xu Lu shrugged, shaking her head easily. She tucked both hands into her pockets and, just before leaving, winked. “I’ll be collecting my thanks from you later.”
Qiao Qi didn’t say yes out loud, just smiled.
—
After Xu Lu left, Qiao Qi turned her attention to Maiya, chatting idly with her. Seeing the set was nearly ready, she began steering the conversation toward the filming.
Maiya was still too young to have any real concept of filming; she only knew she was going to be on TV with the Seventh Princess, and she was thrilled, eyes shining.
That light chased away the last traces of worry and hesitation in Qiao Qi’s heart. She knew the child’s part was small—she just needed to run outward when the director called “action.”
But Maiya’s health wasn’t as sturdy as the other children’s, so Qiao Qi gave her several worried reminders. Only once she’d confirmed Maiya seemed fine did she pat her little head. “Alright, are you going to stay here with me, or go play?”
Maiya wanted both to go play and to stay with the Seventh Princess. She pouted, the hesitation written all over her face.
Qiao Qi didn’t rush her, waiting patiently to the side.
She took out her phone, meaning to scroll through Weibo. Someone had leaked a few crew photos online recently—though the images were too blurry to make out who was who, they’d still drawn a fair number of fans’ attention.
But before she could open Weibo, she saw the WeChat notification icon appear in her notification bar. She swiped down out of habit and saw it was a message from Li’ang.
She tapped in to see what he’d sent.
Liangou: Got a big treasure to show you tonight. Liangou: Guaranteed that once you see it, you’ll want to devote yourself to me for life.
Qiao Qi: “…………?”
Honestly, she found herself wondering if there was something unhealthy lodged in her own head.
Otherwise why, upon seeing the words “big treasure,” was her first instinct to call the police?
Report it to the cyber police!
Officers, someone here is being inappropriate online!
7: ……?
7: I’ll show you a big treasure right now.
7: It looks exactly like a red exclamation mark.
The other party seemed to be busy and didn’t reply.
Qiao Qi cupped her face with one hand, the other endlessly scrolling the phone screen, flipping page after page through their message history, reliving those days all over again as if experiencing something strange all over.
The corner of her mouth curved up in unconscious delight, the glow of the phone screen lighting up her face, and her eyes too.
Maiya beside her rarely saw this expression on her Seventh Princess. Though she remembered the Seventh Princess as always gentle, kind, and pretty, today somehow felt different.
She imitated Qiao Qi’s pose, cupping her own face with one hand—except while Qiao Qi looked at her phone, she looked at Qiao Qi.
This was the scene Liang Yan walked into just as he arrived. He couldn’t help himself; he crept over carefully and sat down next to Maiya, cupping his own face in imitation of the two of them.
So the crew members not far off saw Liang Yan tilting his head to look at Maiya, Maiya tilting her head to look at Qiao Qi, while Qiao Qi held her phone, light in the corners of her smiling lips and eyes.
Overhead, starlight filtered through the gaps in the big tree’s leaves, scattering across the ground, and the three of them looked as though they’d stolen a corner of peace amid the noisy set.
Wu Shuang, flying the flag for the ship, couldn’t resist secretly dodging the director to snap a photo, thinking that she couldn’t post it now, but once the show aired she’d absolutely post it in the fan forum!
This kind of harmonious “family of three” scene would kill the shippers dead!
Anyway, she herself was already dead, dead, dead from it!
—
Qiao Qi only belatedly realized there was someone else beside her besides Maiya. She turned her head and abruptly met a pair of smiling peach-blossom eyes, startled enough that her own eyes went wide.
Compared to her usual light, cool composure carrying Cheng Yanyun’s aura, she looked like a startled rabbit just now.
Liang Yan, caught red-handed, showed not the slightest guilt—he simply kept cupping his face, staring openly, even brazenly asking, “Teacher Qiao was smiling so sweetly just now. Are you in love?”
Teased by him, the tips of Qiao Qi’s ears instantly flushed a transparent red; even in the dim corner she couldn’t hide the blush covering her face.
Knowing full well Liang Yan couldn’t see the phone’s contents from that distance, she still guiltily tried to put it away.
As a result, in her fluster, her phone dropped straight to the ground.
…Screen up.
Qiao Qi sucked in a sharp breath and bent down to grab it.
But she was beaten to it.
By Maiya.
Maiya, understanding nothing, held the phone and stared at it for several seconds, then laboriously sounded out two syllables: “Le…yi…an…lian? Brother Lian!”
Qiao Qi now felt as though the secret diary entries of a girl’s heart had just been read aloud in public. Mortified enough to want to die, she snatched the phone from Maiya’s hands and clapped her hand over the child’s mouth, glaring. “Quiet!”
Maiya let out a few muffled “mmph mmph” sounds, while Liang Yan beside them was thoroughly delighted, like a mischievous boy from his school days who’d accidentally caught a glimpse of who a female classmate secretly liked.
He lifted his arm to pull Maiya into his own embrace, deliberately saying: “Oh come now, what’s the big deal? Don’t make things hard on the little one—if you want to make things hard on someone, go make it hard on your Brother Lian!”
Qiao Qi’s whole body flushed red at that, even the corners of her eyes tinting red—whether from embarrassment or anger, she couldn’t say.
Rarely getting such a visibly stirred reaction out of her, Liang Yan raised an eyebrow with considerable satisfaction, deliberately shrinking back as if afraid. “Hey hey hey, a gentleman uses words, not fists.”
Qiao Qi didn’t want to use her fists—she wanted to go straight for a gun, to shut this man up permanently!
And Maiya, oblivious to the need for discretion, tugged at Liang Yan’s arm, blinking her big eyes. “Seventh Princess, who’s Brother Lian? Is it Brother Fairy Tale?”
Qiao Qi rubbed her forehead wordlessly, dodging the question and even actively changing the subject. “Weren’t you going to go find your friends to play? Why aren’t you going yet?”
Liang Yan was thoroughly delighted. He sat with considerable ease, his long legs bent and spread apart, leaning back slightly when he laughed, his tousled, styled hair brushing lightly against the back of his neck with the motion.
His long arm loosely encircled Maiya.
Maiya, quite comfortable leaning against him, only belatedly thought to turn and look at who this person was—seeing it was Liang Yan, she let out a delighted “Wow!” “Prince!!”
Liang Yan echoed her “Wow!” “It’s me!”
Qiao Qi: “……”
This was top-tier shamelessness.
“Wow! Long time no see!” Maiya said brightly. “Are you going to be on TV with us too?”
Liang Yan had already noticed Maiya’s outfit and hairstyle but hadn’t asked, thinking Qiao Qi surely wouldn’t have agreed to let Maiya show her face. At Maiya’s words, he looked over at Qiao Qi in surprise.
Qiao Qi could roughly guess what Liang Yan was thinking and told him honestly: “Xu Lu found her to help out.”
Liang Yan’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly at that. Just as he was deciding whether to give Qiao Qi a heads-up, he saw Qiao Qi put her phone back in her bag and smile at him. “The little one is really happy.”
Oh.
Then there was no need to interfere.
Liang Yan nodded lightly and said no more. “Alright.”
Just then the assistant director called for Qiao Qi to go check her lighting mark. Qiao Qi turned back, uneasy, to look at Maiya, and Liang Yan tilted his chin at her. “Go on, I’ve got her.”
Only then was Qiao Qi reassured. “Thank you.”
Right in front of Qiao Qi, Liang Yan reached out and hooked his arm around Maiya’s neck. “Come on, let’s chat—tell your brother what kind of Brother Lian you’d like.”
Qiao Qi: “……”
Director, wait just a moment!
Let me go kill a witness first!
Seeing Qiao Qi’s expression, Liang Yan’s smile grew even more unrestrained. And Maiya really did seriously start counting on her fingers with Liang Yan. “Um, I hope Brother Lian hurries up and marries the Seventh Princess home, then has a little baby, and then plays with me!”
Qiao Qi: “……”
She was tempted to go find the makeup artist for another layer of powder—she could feel her own face burning red.
“And then what?” Liang Yan asked, leisurely tilting his head toward Maiya, occasionally glancing over at Qiao Qi on purpose, then feigning surprise. “Oh? Teacher Qiao hasn’t left yet? So many crew members are waiting on you.”
Qiao Qi: “……”
She silently clenched her jaw and gave Liang Yan a faint smile—a smile that clearly carried an unspoken message: just you wait.
Liang Yan curved his peach-blossom eyes, smiling with pure, innocent charm, even grabbing Maiya’s hand to wave it at her. “Bye~”
Then he continued chatting with Maiya. “What else? How many babies do you want them to have?”
“Um, I think seven would be just right.”
“……”
Listening to this absurd conversation as she turned to leave, Qiao Qi found herself inexplicably wrapped in an aura of tragic heroism—like a martyr departing on a doomed mission, never to return.
Liang Yan, unmoved, continued planning out Teacher Qiao’s married life in vivid detail.
But without the person in question there, the teasing lost its point, so Liang Yan chatted idly with Maiya a while longer before slowly pulling out his phone.
Seeing a WeChat notification, he immediately curled his lips up and tapped in.
Tonight’s scene had Ming Yan just coming from a family banquet, so he was wearing a suit whose fabric clearly spoke of wealth. Only, finding it restrictive, he’d taken it off, left wearing just a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing the clean, defined lines of his forearms.
His already refined, outstanding features were made even more striking by a few strokes from the makeup artist’s brush; when he smiled, the corners of his eyes caught the glow from his phone screen.
This scene bore a striking resemblance to Qiao Qi looking at her phone just now—Maiya cupped her face and stared for a good while before handing that same line over to Liang Yan.
“You’re smiling so sweetly.”
Unlike Qiao Qi’s bashfulness, Liang Yan smiled at Maiya upon hearing this. “Because I’m in love.”
Wu Shuang, passing by unintentionally: “……”
Why, why, why!
I just want to properly ship a couple, why is that so hard!!
Author’s Note: Wu Shuang, what a pitiful shipper.
Let me explain something. I don’t know if readers understand the data side of things, but compared to my previous books, this one’s numbers aren’t great.
Not trying to play the pity card, just stating facts.
I’ll work harder and try to update more each day.
You’ll just have to bear with me—leave more comments each day, alright?
Handing out 20 red envelopes today!