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Psst! We're moving!
Yan Man stood in place for a moment, not yet having replied to the message when the car in front of her lightly honked its horn.
Already here?
The driver’s door opened, and Ye Lin walked up to her.
He bent down slightly, leaning closer to look at her: “Shall we go?”
She put away her phone, hands stuffed into her pockets, and turned her head with pride.
“What’s the point? I already said I’m not going.”
“Take a look first, then decide,” he said calmly.
After a pause, he added: “I really did make the bed.”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t want you staying over earlier—it’s just that I was worried it might affect you negatively.”
Yan Man was about to ask what kind of negative effect he meant when the passenger door was pulled open before her.
Ye Lin: “Just take a look, okay?”
As they were talking, another car behind them honked its horn. The assistant director leaned out, teasing: “You’re not getting into the car even though Teacher Ye opened the door for you?”
Not wanting to block traffic, Yan Man smiled and said: “Alright, I’m getting in. You can go ahead.”
Once seated in the passenger seat, she noticed a paper bag placed in front of her.
“So formal? What’s this? Can I take a look?” Yan Man reached for it.
“Yes, it’s for you,” he said.
Opening it, she found the dating contract inside.
Yan Man: “….”
His signature had already been neatly placed in the designated spot for Party B. It was even neater than the handwriting she’d seen on his scripts before.
She pulled out a pen from the side, signing as she spoke: “You really know how to set the mood.”
Whether she meant it as sarcasm or sincerity, by the time she finished putting the contract away, the car had already entered the parking lot of the villa.
Five minutes later, she pushed open the door and stepped into Ye Lin’s domain.
The house was filled with an unfamiliar yet comforting scent—a faint aroma of freesia mixed with woody notes from home furnishings. The interior design was minimalist but highly sophisticated, with clever arrangements at the entrance and bar area.
Yan Man: “Which designer did you hire? I really like it.”
He paused for a moment before replying: “I made some adjustments after they sent over the proposals.”
This surprised her.
“You mean… you designed it yourself?”
“More or less.”
“Then if I ever buy a house, I’ll have you help me plan it.”
As she spoke, she wandered into the study, leaving the man standing by the entrance momentarily lost in thought. After a while, he shook it off.
If they could be together by then, would she no longer need to buy a house for herself alone?
Or perhaps, by then, he could naturally add his own touch to the room as her boyfriend.
While he was deep in thought, Yan Man had already entered the study.
She stood in front of the wall lined with trophies, her eyes unwavering.
Though it still felt distant now, she had to admit—these were the awards every actor dreamed of receiving.
She looked up, momentarily stunned: “You’ve won so many awards.”
Ye Lin: “There are more that aren’t displayed.”
Her brows furrowed in curiosity, and she gave him a playful kick.
“You always seem so indifferent,” Yan Man leaned closer to examine them, “but these trophies are well-preserved. You must clean them regularly, right?”
“Mm.” He hadn’t expected her to notice such details. Her gaze lingered for a long time, so he moved closer and said, “But if you want any of them, I can give them to you.”
“I don’t want yours. I want to earn my own.” Yan Man pointed upward. “That one, that one, and this one—I want all of them.”
After a long pause, he chuckled softly and replied: “Alright.”
Yan Man tilted her head suspiciously: “What are you agreeing to? Are you a judge or something?”
“I am.”
“….”
“Lifetime judge,” he clarified. “Though I rarely attend.”
It got too noisy sometimes. When the judges disagreed, the room would erupt into arguments. And he believed acting was subjective—each performance had its own merits, impossible to judge solely by wins or losses.
Lost in thought, Yan Man suddenly said: “If you ever have the chance to judge me in the future, don’t go easy on me. I don’t want special treatment; I want to see my true level.”
“Don’t worry,” he straightened up. “I won’t attend.”
“Besides… whether I participate or not, your acting speaks for itself. Even if I did vote, it wouldn’t change the final outcome.”
Yan Man nodded: “You really know how to talk. I’ve decided to stay.”
“…”
She sat down, leaning against the back of the chair, and said softly: “Until I become a better actress.”
Ye Lin: “Hmm?”
She continued: “Then I can complete Mom’s last stage play.”
Her mother often told her that her biggest regret was not having enough time to rehearse her favorite play because of raising children and managing the household.
It was her first leading role. Her mom said that perhaps, in a parallel universe, someone else would fulfill that dream for her.
Yan Man didn’t know if there was a higher power watching over her, but on the day she left home, she went to the studio to give it a try.
What if she could act?
And strangely enough, she discovered she could—and slowly, she fell in love with performing. That vague idea gradually took shape through acting—
Could she try to fulfill her mother’s unfinished dream?
Later, when she passed by the backstage of a theater, she realized that plays were even harder than film acting. She worked tirelessly, determined to become an actress worthy of recognition, so she could shoulder the responsibility of a play.
She thought, if that day ever came, her mother’s spirit would surely be happy watching from above.
Her daughter had performed her most beloved play.
Perhaps then, she would have no regrets.
All performances in a play were live. The audience sat right there, and every scene had to be perfect in one take—no retakes allowed. It was far more complex than the positioning she practiced during competitions. Within one or two hours, they had to tell a complete story, and the number of co-actors wasn’t limited to just two or three.
Moreover, there was a divide between stage plays and screen acting. Without enough excellent works under her belt, it would be hard for her to gain recognition in mainstream theater, let alone secure a leading role.
So she had to perform The Urban Traveler well, showing everyone that she had limitless potential—not just for idol dramas.
When she spoke about these topics, her tone wasn’t particularly passionate. She simply sat there quietly, yet inexplicably, it made people want to pat her head and hug her tightly.
After a long silence, Ye Lin finally said: “Alright. If you need me, remember to tell me.”
“You support me?” She was astonished. “Don’t you think it’s absurd for me to want to act in plays?”
“No,” he said. “If you find it meaningful, then it is meaningful.”
Yan Man nodded and said: “After this project wraps, I want to take a break, find a good teacher to improve my acting, and see how this show turns out before deciding when to attempt a play.”
He stood up, ruffled the top of her head, and said:
“Alright. I’ll wait for you.”
At first, Yan Man didn’t fully grasp what he meant by “wait for you.”
Later, she realized—he probably believed she could do it. So instead of saying “work hard,” he said “I’ll wait for you.”
Wait for the day she could achieve it.
In the evening, the doorbell rang twice.
Yan Man wondered aloud: “One is Simon, coming to deliver my luggage. Who’s the other? Food delivery?”
“No,” he said. “Bi Tan brought mine, along with two cats.”
“Your luggage?” Yan Man asked. “Are you staying here too?”
“Mm.”
She had initially wanted to ask if his hotel stay had also expired, but then she realized it was his own house—it was perfectly normal for him to live here.
So she nodded to acknowledge that she understood.
“Which room is yours?”
He pointed to the corner: “Next to yours.”
Soon after, the front door opened, and Simon appeared outside. His expression was complicated as he handed over her luggage. After hesitating for a long while, he finally said: “You… be careful.”
Yan Man: ?
Simon tried to phrase it gently: “At night… don’t get too carried away. You still have filming the next day, and sometimes wearing formal dresses exposes your neck, so...”
Realizing what he meant, Yan Man interrupted in disbelief: “We’re sleeping in separate rooms. I’m just staying over, not moving in together.”
Simon thought to himself, Then tell me how this is different from cohabitation?!
“Alright, got it,” Simon turned to leave, but after a moment, he turned back and reminded her again: “Take care of your neck…”
Yan Man: “….”
I can see you didn’t take a single word I said to heart.
Just as she finished dealing with Simon, Bi Tan arrived.
Not only did he bring two cats and Ye Lin’s luggage, but he also brought a small bag, claiming it contained some essential daily items. After rummaging through masks and toothbrushes, Yan Man spotted a blue box at the bottom.
Blue, rectangular—though she hadn’t used one herself, she knew exactly what it was: contraceptive supplies.
After thinking for a moment, Yan Man said to Bi Tan in the living room: “You and Simon are quite the pair.”
Bi Tan resisted the urge to vomit and tried to maintain an air of elegance: “Me and him? Where the hell do we match?!”
“You match in that neither of you has a sane mind.”
“…………”
After the two left, Yan Man continued with her routine, doing what needed to be done. She showered, memorized her lines, reviewed the script, and then went to bed.
After scrolling through Weibo for a bit, she put her phone down and closed her eyes to think.
Ye Lin passed by and noticed the light still on in her room, though there was no sound. He couldn’t help but push the door open slightly to peek inside.
She was lying flat on her back with her eyes closed, but the bedside lamp was still on.
He approached, turned off the lamp for her, and noticed that the edge of her blanket wasn’t tucked in properly. He reached out and tucked it in more securely.
As he did so, the back of his hand accidentally brushed against her chin.
Yan Man froze, then opened her eyes: “Why are your hands so cold?”
“Did I wake you up?”
“No,” she said, “I was just drifting off.”
Unconsciously, Yan Man reached out, her fingers trailing up his knuckles and stopping on his forearm. She felt it for a few seconds: “Did you just go outside and catch a breeze?”
Her hand was warm and soft, like a freshly baked piece of dough, rolling back and forth across his skin.
“I’ve been in bed all this time,” he said, touching his own arm. “Isn’t this a normal temperature?”
“Is this a normal temperature?” she asked skeptically, pulling back the blanket. “Come on, feel me.”
The suggestion felt a little off, so his hand paused, not moving.
Yan Man: “Where’s your hot water bottle?”
“No hot water bottle.” He replied.
With the heater on, he hadn’t used one in a long time.
Yan Man looked at him incredulously: “In this freezing winter, your body temperature isn’t high to begin with, and you don’t use a hot water bottle? Who else would freeze but you?”
“…”
She glanced to the side: “There’s only one pillow on my bed.”
After a long pause, seeing him standing there motionless, she tilted her head curiously and made an inquisitive “Hmm?”
Yan Man: “What are you standing there for? Bring your pillow over.”
He parted his lips slightly and said: “…You want to use it?”
“…”
Yan Man patted the space beside her, explaining slowly: “Pillow, bring it, next to me, sleep,” then paused and pointed at him, “you, together.”
“Do you understand now?”
She urged him: “Hurry up. I’m nice and warm right now. Did you make my blanket thicker?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as if struck by something, still immersed in a sense of weightlessness.
“So I can go?”
Yan Man turned her head: “What, you don’t want to come?”
“Yes.”
“Then go ahead.”
Once he lay down beside her, Yan Man turned her head toward him: “What were you hesitating about earlier? Were you afraid I’d take advantage of you?”
“No,” he said, “I was worried about being unfair to you.”
“What’s there to worry about? I’m just warming you up. It’s not like I’m selling you my kidney,” Yan Man muttered, feeling her worldview shaken. “You virgins are so conservative.”
“…”
She tucked her blanket around him, the heat rising and enveloping his skin almost instantly.
Warmth began to surge along his bones.
Yan Man reached out and grabbed his arm. Feeling the warmth, she unconsciously leaned closer to him.
He turned to his side, and her head nestled into the crook of his neck, filling the air with the faint scent of shampoo.
Yan Man closed her eyes, but moments later, she felt something and opened them again.
“Why did you kiss my hair?” she yawned, “Good thing I wash my hair every day.”
“…”
After a pause, his gaze fell on the gap between her neck and the pillow, and he asked: “Is the pillow uncomfortable?”
She moved her head curiously: “No, it’s fine.”
“Really fine?”
“Really fine,” she said, “What do you want?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. After a long moment, he said:
“Let me ask if you need to rest your head on my hand while sleeping.”
In the darkness, Yan Man blinked, and the head resting against his chest began to tremble with suppressed laughter.
Ye Lin reached out, pressing down on her restless head with some force, feeling the vibrations on her forehead as she spoke.
“Don’t laugh,” he murmured softly.
Sure enough, she didn’t laugh or fidget anymore. Somehow, she slowly drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, she was woken up by the alarm clock.
She had been in the middle of a dream and felt disoriented when the noise startled her awake. She turned off the alarm and instinctively closed her eyes again.
Previously, Zhou Xuan would wake her up, so she wasn’t quite used to relying on an alarm. Thinking that she had set it five minutes earlier, she figured she could sleep for just five more minutes.
In winter, people always tend to linger in bed. Soon after, she felt the person beside her get up, followed by sounds coming from outside. Half-asleep, she felt icy fingers brush against her earlobe.
Ye Lin: “Time to get up.”
She couldn’t help but shiver slightly, though her body still lacked strength—perhaps this was a common symptom of being in love.
After mustering some effort, she finally managed to extend both arms out from under the blanket.
She stretched her arms and flailed them in the air, intending for Ye Lin to pull her up.
But the man thought she wanted him to carry her. After analyzing her posture, he leaned into her arms, one hand gripping her arm and the other wrapping around her waist, lifting her up effortlessly.
The blanket was still wedged between them, and he pressed it down with his leg.
Her head hung low, her words a little slurred: “…Don’t want to get up.”
Ye Lin walked toward the sink, casually asking: “Then what do you want to do?”
Her body swayed slightly, unable to find a stable point, and she slowly began sliding down.
Yan Man wriggled upward, her mind still foggy. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist to stabilize herself.
At that moment, she recalled a meme and slowly muttered aloud: “I want to measure my brother’s waist with my legs.”
“…”
By the time they reached the sink, she was mostly awake. Yan Man unwrapped her legs and stepped down, her toes brushing against the top of his foot. She felt the man lean back slightly.
Yan Man looked up at him.
Ye Lin: “Not measuring anymore?”
“…”
You look almost disappointed.
After finishing up, Yan Man headed to work.
Today, she arrived earlier than usual, even though she woke up much later than normal—this was perhaps the most time-efficient way.
She changed into her costume and began focusing on her work.
Whether it was work or life, she found it difficult to multitask. When filming, she devoted herself entirely to acting; in life, she gave her all to living.
As long as the thread tied to her mother wasn’t triggered, she would continue to live the life her mom had hoped for—finding her own path, warm and optimistic, just like the first sixteen years of her life.
Her mother wouldn’t want to see her stuck in the past forever.
Someday, she’d be healed. That’s what she believed.
It was already late at night when she finished work. She wasn’t sure if Ye Lin and the two cats were asleep yet.
With an indescribable flutter in her heart, she pushed the door open a crack.
Contrary to her expectation of darkness, the living room was brightly lit and warm. Hearing the door open, Ye Lin walked over from the couch.
Seeing her dressed lightly, shivering slightly from the cold, he instinctively took two steps forward: “I said I’d go pick you up.”
“No need,” she said, her mood inexplicably lifted. “Simon and the others are still at the set—it’d be a hassle for you.”
Taking off her coat and scarf, Yan Man slipped into the bathroom to warm up: “I’m going to take a shower.”
However, after finishing her shower, she realized she hadn’t brought any clothes. The heating in the living room seemed stronger today, so she wrapped the bath towel around herself twice and stepped out to grab her clothes.
Unexpectedly, Ye Lin was still sitting on the couch. Seeing her emerge, his hand paused mid-petting of the cat.
“…”
“What?” Yan Man glanced down. “Does my towel look bad?”
This was a special limited-edition towel she had bought, soft and fluffy. Sometimes when she was feeling lazy, she would simply wrap it around herself and wear it.
“…No,” he awkwardly averted his gaze. “Why are you out here?”
“I forgot my clothes. Just came out to grab them.”
“Why didn’t you let me help?”
“It’s fine,” Yan Man said. “I can handle it myself. No need to bother you.”
After exchanging a few words, she turned to head back to her room when suddenly she noticed one of the white cats—Nuomi—leap onto the couch, extending its sharp claws, clearly intent on mischief.
“Nuomi—” Failure to discipline reflects poorly on the owner, so Yan Man hurried over. “Don’t scratch the couch!”
Nuomi nimbly dodged, and she lunged into empty air.
Clutching the towel tightly around her chest to keep it from slipping, Yan Man thought Nuomi would settle down—but to her surprise, the cat dared to taunt her further, shifting to another spot and leisurely extending its seemingly harmless little paw once again.
She tilted her head toward Ye Lin: “Help me out? I have to catch this little troublemaker today.”
Nuomi darted around the couch, leaving Yan Man dizzy from chasing it. In the blink of an eye, the cat suddenly braked—
Yan Man lunged forward, and Ye Lin’s body pressed down on top of hers.
…
The cat escaped, but she ended up pinned beneath Ye Lin.
This cat was truly audacious. After just one day of adjustment, it had already grown bold, wreaking havoc. In the blink of an eye, it disappeared somewhere else and began tugging at her towel.
Feeling the towel about to slip, Yan Man twisted her body. The cat was successfully thrown off, and she shifted from facing away to lying face-to-face with him.
Ye Lin’s hands were still braced against the edge of the couch.
She propped herself up backward, her collarbone slightly exposed, her damp hair dripping a single drop of water.
She admitted that when she initially suggested staying over, it really was just to save time—she hadn’t thought much beyond that.
But now, his nose was barely a centimeter away, and she could feel his body heat clearly. Her gaze fell upon his impeccably handsome face, magnified and still flawless.
Her DNA as a visual enthusiast stirred.
What was that saying?
Beauty distracts.
She sensed he had something to say. A few seconds later, he indeed spoke in a deep, husky voice.
Very hoarse.
“The contract doesn’t mention this.”
Yan Man lowered her eyes slightly, recalling for a moment: “Hmm?”
His eyes swirled with dark intensity: “Kissing—is it allowed?”
She hadn’t expected him to bring this up, and the subtle contrast sent a wave of pleasure rippling through her nerves, akin to dizziness.
She felt herself smiling: “Of course.”
His fingers brushed against the edge of the towel, burning hot.
“What about afterward? Where do we draw the line?”
The more restrained he acted, the more she wanted to coax out his unrestrained side.
“Until I say stop,” she whispered teasingly into his ear, her breath ghosting over him, “anything goes.”
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