The day the whole show wrapped, the weather turned out great — clear skies for miles, and everyone on set was in high spirits.
Even the reluctance and awkwardness that usually came with the end of a shared stretch of life felt considerably lighter because of it.
The director, perhaps deliberately, saved the very last shot for the scene of Cheng Yanyun and Ming Yan’s first meeting at the train station.
Back then, the station had been bustling, the sound of trains echoing across the sky; Cheng Yanyun had come to hand off a black briefcase to a friend, and in the flash of that exchange, collided with the overseas-returned Young Master Ming, who’d just stepped off a train.
Amid the crowd, the two of them had shared a subtly charged glance.
“Cut—”
The director gave the call, and everyone on set said in unison, “Congratulations, Yanyun Manor has officially wrapped!”
For a brief moment, Qiao Qi zoned out, still standing in place, her gaze fixed unblinkingly on Liang Yan’s face.
The young master, newly returned from abroad, hadn’t yet been swept up into the three-way power struggle of a chaotic era; he still carried himself with a full head of youthful pride, an air of arrogance and refined bearing threaded through his brows and eyes — even the most fleeting glance at him was pleasing to look at.
Qiao Qi was so lost in looking at him that for a moment she didn’t notice everyone else around her, until Liang Yan stepped forward first. “Great work, Teacher Qiao. Wishing you nothing but success from here on out.”
Only then did Qiao Qi snap back to attention. Focusing her gaze, she met Liang Yan’s slightly upturned peach-blossom eyes, letting her gaze sweep briefly over the faint smile at the corner of his lips, before giving a small nod. “Same to you. Nothing but success.”
—
Naturally, the wrap banquet was scheduled for that evening — all the actors who’d already wrapped earlier were more or less all present. The director had specially booked an entire banquet hall, and by the time everyone gathered, it was a packed crowd from front to back. Qiao Qi found herself recalling that the kickoff banquet, way back when, hadn’t had nearly this many people.
Somewhere along the way, over the course of nearly five months, unfamiliar faces had gradually filled the space around her, and those unfamiliar faces had slowly turned familiar, until now, here they all were, gathered together.
There were plenty of faces Qiao Qi genuinely couldn’t put names to, but looking at them still brought a flood of memories to mind — memories that all belonged to Cheng Yanyun.
Tonight, once she walked out of this hall, she’d be stepping into a whole new life.
A brand new life, one that belonged to Qiao Qi.
Suddenly, a hand reached into her field of view; Qiao Qi’s blurred vision gradually sharpened, focusing on the stemmed wine glass held in that palm, and following it up, she met Liang Yan’s eyes.
Out of Ming Yan’s skin, he was still every bit the arrogant young master. Though he hadn’t dressed up especially for tonight, Qiao Qi still caught the faint logo at his collar at a single glance — reportedly, short-sleeve tees from that brand started at five figures.
Some people are simply born with a face heaven-gifted for good fortune — amid the noise of the crowd, even a single blink of his eyes was enough to draw attention. He lightly rested one arm on the empty chair beside him, body angled slightly, his other hand lifting a stemmed glass; tilting his chin, he said, his lips moving lightly, “You’ve worked hard these past few months, Teacher Qiao.”
Qiao Qi clinked her glass against his, took a sip, and said, “Not as hard as you.”
Liang Yan smiled, and for once spoke to Qiao Qi with genuine seriousness. “Any plans for the future?”
Qiao Qi was a little surprised that Liang Yan would bring this up with her; she thought it over, then shook her head. “Not entirely sure yet.”
“You’ve made it this far and still aren’t sure?” Liang Yan said, pulling his chair closer to Qiao Qi’s, one arm pressed against the table, chin propped casually on his hand. His front fringe occasionally fell into his eyes, and he’d blow it away lightly, then glance left, then right, rambling on to Qiao Qi in introduction.
“See that one over there, that’s the head producer, outranks even Xu Lu directly.”
“And that one, one of the investors — nearly every show he’s backed has won awards.”
“Oh, and her, top-tier manager. Any celebrity you can name off the top of your head, she’s probably managed at some point. But she doesn’t stick around long-term, usually gets people established and then steps back.”
“People with real talent probably all have some quirk normal people can’t quite understand, I get it.”
“And that one, that one, quick, look, guess who that is?”
…Are these actual deities descended from heaven?
So excited.
Qiao Qi couldn’t help glancing sideways at Liang Yan, and noticed that his usually lazy eyes were now fully wide open, sparkling, an unselfconscious innocence and earthy energy shining through.
Unable to help herself, Qiao Qi kept glancing at him a few more times, a faint smile slipping out at the corner of her mouth, and then, mimicking his posture, she too lifted her arm and propped her chin on her hand.
As a result, every actor and staff member intending to come toast the show’s leads found themselves pausing, hesitating in place before approaching, watching Qiao Qi and Liang Yan turn their heads left in perfect unison, then right, occasionally leaning together to whisper, eyes growing brighter and brighter each time.
…It honestly looked a lot like two kindergarten kids gossiping in class.
Right then, Kindergarten Student One was still busy introducing Kindergarten Student Two to some mystery figure, and Kindergarten Student Two, Qiao Qi, had indeed been led along the entire time by Student One, Liang Yan. She stared over at the figure in question — honestly, she couldn’t quite make the person out, but with some effort, she could tell it was someone with a full head of long, waterfall-like hair, wearing a white French-style dress; plenty of people were coming up to toast her, but she herself hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol.
“Who’s that—”
Qiao Qi, a little curious, turned to ask Liang Yan, but hadn’t realized the two of them were sitting so close together, and her lips ended up brushing straight across his cheek.
“…”
“…………”
The air seemed to freeze for an instant, and immediately after, Qiao Qi and Liang Yan sprang apart at the same moment, the distance between them going from barely a fist’s width to enough space to fit a two-hundred-pound bodyguard in between.
Qiao Qi: “…”
Liang Yan: “…”
Just as quickly, all the actors who’d been standing by waiting for the right moment to come toast them suddenly swarmed in at once, each holding up a glass, their well-wishes ranging from “bright future ahead” to “may you sweep every award there is.” Qiao Qi’s ears burned red as she listened, and, saying nothing, drank whatever anyone toasted her with.
By the third glass, Liang Yan finally couldn’t stand watching any longer; quick on his feet, he intercepted the fourth glass of red wine on its way to her lips, and because he moved so fast, quite a bit of it spilled.
Everyone present froze.
Including Qiao Qi herself.
Liang Yan lifted an eyebrow and looked at Qiao Qi. “No one’s going to walk you home if you get too drunk.”
Qiao Qi said nothing, only that the redness that had originally just been faintly visible on her ears gradually spread down her neck, and to her chest as well.
Her skin was fair, so even the slightest tinge of red was extremely noticeable.
Seeing this, the others startled, hurriedly offering apologies one after another.
Qiao Qi kept her lips pressed tightly shut, saying nothing the entire time, sitting obediently in her seat, watching as Liang Yan held his own glass in one hand and the glass he’d confiscated from her in the other, swapping toasts back and forth with the crowd, downing who knows how many glasses in the process.
His alcohol tolerance was apparently quite good; despite also having fair skin, no matter how much he drank, he showed no sign of it at all.
Once the others had all wobbled off, tipsy, Liang Yan still looked perfectly composed, a spring breeze of a smile on his face, his eyes calm and unruffled — only the color of his lips had turned a vivid red from the alcohol.
Qiao Qi’s gaze drifted over his lips, unhurried; the moment he glanced her way, she looked away just as casually, pretending she hadn’t seen anything at all.
As if nothing had happened.
But of course, Liang Yan just had to bring this excruciatingly awkward matter right out into the open.
“Did you just take advantage of me a second ago?”
Qiao Qi: “…………”
The redness that had only just faded from her ears crept right back up again; her eyes practically turning red too, she forced out, after a long pause, “I did not!”
Liang Yan let out a scoff, saying nothing.
But that scoff alone was enough to thoroughly unsettle Qiao Qi, and she shot back, “What are you laughing at?”
Liang Yan took his time taking a sip of his drink, then shot Qiao Qi a mysterious glance. “Nothing, don’t take it to heart — I’ve got makeup on today, what you brushed against was just makeup.”
Qiao Qi: “…”
Well, thanks for that.
Just then, Qiao Qi caught a graceful figure approaching from the corner of her eye, and at the same moment, clearly noticed Liang Yan drop the teasing look from his face, standing up with a somewhat more serious expression.
Following his gaze, Qiao Qi realized it was that mystery woman from earlier; as she drew closer, Qiao Qi could see the woman was strikingly beautiful, carrying herself with a dignified, gentle elegance — she seemed like the kind of person who’d have done well as an actress too.
But she probably wasn’t a celebrity — a face like that, no one would forget once they’d seen it, and Qiao Qi didn’t recall ever having seen her on TV.
“Long time no see, you little rascal.” Yu Min approached with a warm smile.
Liang Yan turned noticeably more well-behaved in front of her, like a scamp running into an elder; he didn’t even reach for his drink, just narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Auntie Yu.”
Qiao Qi blinked, a little surprised — this woman looked like she was only in her thirties or so, and she was Liang Yan’s aunt?
Or maybe just someone of an elder generation, relatively speaking?
“You must be Qiao Qi?” Yu Min turned to look at Qiao Qi; her brows and eyes carried a cool, gentle warmth, and though there was a certain distance to her as well, it never came across as unpleasant.
It was the kind of innate, perfectly-calibrated politeness some people simply had.
“Yes, hello.” Qiao Qi stood up, instinctively reaching for her wine glass, only halfway through the motion did she remember her glass was still with Liang Yan; she paused, glancing at him.
Liang Yan gave an “oh,” “Auntie Yu doesn’t drink, no need to toast her.”
“Oh.” Qiao Qi thought about it, then picked up a glass of water instead, and went through the polite gesture out of courtesy.
In the course of their conversation, Qiao Qi learned that Yu Min was Cheng Yuzhi’s wife — though not his first wife, and not Cheng Yueming’s birth mother either.
Qiao Qi had no interest in prying into other people’s private affairs, and instinctively sensed Yu Min probably had something to discuss with Liang Yan, so she found an excuse and stepped away.
Once Qiao Qi had left, Liang Yan’s expression turned exasperated. “Don’t tell me my dad sent you here to talk me around again?”
Yu Min laughed. “Your dad doesn’t even have the time to worry about you these days.”
Liang Yan paused, catching on to what Yu Min meant, gave an “oh,” and lowered his eyes, his lashes casting a faint shadow across his eyelids; his voice, when he finally spoke, came out a little hoarse. “My sister.”
“Mm.” Yu Min didn’t bother beating around the bush with Liang Yan either. “I only just got back, haven’t seen Xiao Mo in a while. Last time I saw her she seemed fine — how did she suddenly end up on set — hm?”
Liang Yan spun the glass in his hand between two fingers, then tilted his head back and drained most of what remained in one go, only realizing after he’d swallowed that it wasn’t his own glass.
It was Qiao Qi’s.
…Never mind.
Liang Yan casually set the glass aside, and said quietly to Yu Min, “Let’s talk outside.”
He pressed his fingers against his temple. “It’s too loud in here, giving me a headache.”
Yu Min gave an “mm,” then, remembering something, suddenly turned to glance in the direction Qiao Qi had gone, and said, “Is this girl new? She looks a little familiar.”
“Hm? Qiao Qi?” Liang Yan said. “I guess you could call her new, but she did some commercials before this, you might have seen her around.”
“No.” As a psychologist, Yu Min had seen countless patients and their families over the years, and had a knack for reading people, for sorting them into one category or another.
Whatever category Qiao Qi belonged to, Yu Min was certain it wasn’t the kind of face you’d have seen on TV.
“Hm? What is it?” Liang Yan asked.
Yu Min smiled. “Nothing. Let’s talk about Xiao Mo first.”
Author’s Note: You all haven’t been talking to me much in the comments section lately.
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