IMH - 17

The faint aroma of tea drifted through the side lounge of the hotel lobby, carried by the sneaky night breeze.

Han Chu’s eyes crinkled with a smile as he exchanged pleasantries with Yu Qian. “It’s been such a long time since we last met, Qian Qian. How have you been these years abroad?”

Yu Qian nodded briefly, showing no intention of reminiscing. She extended her hand directly. “What could she possibly have that’s so valuable you had to bring it all the way here for me?”

Perhaps because Yu Qian used the impersonal pronoun “she” to refer to her own mother, Han Chu’s smile dimmed slightly.

He pulled a square box from his backpack. “This was Aunt Qu’s watch. The hands stopped working properly, so she asked me to take it for repairs. But then... well...”

Han Chu lowered his eyelids, his tone tinged with regret. “Aunt Qu’s watch is very precious. It couldn’t just stay with me indefinitely—it wasn’t right. Now that you’re back in the country, I thought I’d bring it to you.”

Yu Qian opened the box and gave the watch a cursory glance.

She was very familiar with this watch. Its design was simple yet elegant, with a crocodile leather strap. Despite careful maintenance, years of wear had frayed the edges slightly, and the sapphire crystal face bore faint scratches under the light.

As far back as Yu Qian could remember, her mother had worn this watch. It was an expensive luxury brand.

Yu Qian guessed it might have been a gift from her biological father—a token of affection or something similar.

Though she disliked the man intensely, she had to admit he had good taste.

After confirming it was indeed Qu Liwen’s possession, Yu Qian closed the box and thanked him indifferently. “Thank you.”

Her expression remained unchanged in the face of her mother’s belongings. When she looked up again, she caught Han Chu hesitating, clearly wanting to say something more.

Yu Qian didn’t mince words. “What do you want to say now?”

Han Chu seemed momentarily stunned before letting out a sigh of resignation. “Qian Qian, you misunderstood me. I just wanted to remind you that it’s getting colder now that autumn has arrived—you should dress warmly to avoid catching a cold. Are you still upset about what I said back then…?”

“Mm, okay.” Yu Qian cut him off before he could delve into old grievances.

“Well…” Han Chu smiled weakly, “it’s late tonight. I just came to deliver this to you and see how you’re doing.”

He paused, then added, “Let’s meet up another time—have dinner and catch up properly.”

“We’ll see.”

As Yu Qian said those words, she noticed Han Chu glance over her shoulder toward something behind her.

She turned her head instinctively—

Cheng Xiaonan was leaning against the marble wall near the elevator, his expression visibly sour as he glanced impatiently in their direction.

Han Chu asked, “Is that your friend? Is he waiting for you?”

“My boss.”

Yu Qian considered his second question for half a second and decided Cheng Xiaonan might indeed be waiting for her.

After all, his coat was still in her room.

So she bid farewell to Han Chu: “He’s probably waiting for me. His coat is in my room.”

Han Chu fell silent for a moment, then said, “Then go ahead. When you have time, remember to contact me.”

His features were gentle, and his smile appeared warm.

But deep down, he wasn’t particularly tender-hearted, Yu Qian thought.

After seeing Han Chu leave the lobby, she realized her earlier statement carried some ambiguity.

Late at night, saying her male boss’s coat was in her room sounded somewhat inappropriate?

As she approached, Cheng Xiaonam spoke before she could ask anything. “Since you’re currently one of our company’s models and there’s an important show coming up in a couple of days, it’s only natural I keep an eye on you meeting strange men late at night for safety reasons.”

As he spoke, his gaze lingered on the watch box in her hand.

At moments like this, Yu Qian felt a strong urge to tease Cheng Xiaonan.

So she said, “He’s not a stranger—I’ve known him since childhood.”

A man and woman knowing each other since childhood easily evoked thoughts of terms like “childhood sweethearts.”

Cheng Xiaonan pressed the elevator button with noticeable force, making the upward arrow click audibly.

Still, he remembered to hold the elevator door open when it arrived, saying, “You go first.”

His voice sounded strained.

Once inside the elevator, Cheng Xiaonan suddenly blurted out, “Coming to give you a watch late at night—isn’t that kind of romantic?”

Yu Qian was all too familiar with this side of him.

Years ago, he’d been exactly the same—youthful, unable to contain his emotions, yet prone to putting on a tough front.

One weekend, after much coaxing, Yu Qian had agreed to watch Cheng Xiaonan play basketball at the gym.

When he came off the court during a substitution, this younger guy sat next to her, wiping sweat from his brow, clearly dissatisfied. “Why do I feel like you keep looking at one of the guys on the opposing team?”

Yu Qian had deliberately teased him then—she couldn’t recall exactly what she’d said—but she remembered that when Cheng Xiaonan returned to the game, he left his backpack, jacket, and water bottle on the chair next to her.

It was as if he wanted to mark her with his name, Cheng Xiaonan.

She adored how he pretended not to care but eventually couldn’t resist asking. In those moments, she could sense all his genuine affection.

Yu Qian hid her smile by lowering her head. “It’s not romantic—it’s my mother’s keepsake.”

She could almost picture Cheng Xiaonan’s shock without even looking up.

When they reached their floor, Cheng Xiaonan still held the elevator door open for her to exit first.

Walking behind her, he suddenly spoke. “Do you need to rest tomorrow?”

The corridor was eerily quiet, making his question seem abrupt.

Why would she need to rest?

Yu Qian first thought to counter-question, then remembered she’d mentioned the watch belonged to her mother.

Perhaps Cheng Xiaonan assumed she’d be upset and needed a break.

Almost everyone believed her relationship with Qu Liwen was strained. Everyone thought she’d only feel relief upon Qu Liwen’s death.

When Qu Liwen passed away in a domestic hospital, Yu Qian hadn’t returned home. Funeral arrangements were handled by others, and foreign media labeled her cold-hearted and unfilial. Even Han Chu, who had grown up with her, believed she harbored no feelings for Qu Liwen.

Whenever she brought up Qu Liwen, Han Chu always lectured her to empathize more with her mother, emphasizing how hard it was to raise a child alone.

But Cheng Xiaonan hadn’t done that.

In the dimly lit corridor, Yu Qian turned her head. Cheng Xiaonan stood in front of his room, hands in his pockets, brows furrowed, lips pressed tightly together.

He looked away, avoiding her gaze. “‘Eleven’ isn’t so heartless as to make employees work while grieving. If you need to rest, I can inform An Gu.”

Yu Qian smiled. “I’m not so grief-stricken that I can’t continue working. No need to trouble President Cheng. I’m fine.”

Back in her room, Peter had already slipped away unnoticed.

Yu Qian found a message on her phone from him:

[I snuck out through the side door. I saw your scholarly friend. Too refined, too proper—he’s clearly not a match for you. I still don’t like him.]

The message was like a critical father scrutinizing his daughter's potential suitors.

Yu Qian didn’t reply but remembered Cheng Xiaonan’s coat was still with her—she’d forgotten to return it.

In truth, Han Chu’s appearance, family background, and education were impeccable.

As a child, Yu Qian often heard Qu Liwen praise Han Chu: “Your brother Han Chu won another award,” or “Han Chu participated in another competition,” or “The teacher praised Han Chu again…”

Back then, Yu Qian spent nearly every day on set—auditioning, filming ads, shooting magazines, or learning facial expressions and modeling techniques from industry veterans.

Sometimes, Qu Liwen would drive Yu Qian home, passing by Han Chu’s house. Through the thin curtains, Yu Qian could see the light inside and Han Chu studying under its glow.

Did she envy him?

Of course, she did.

Yu Qian rarely had the chance to sit through a full day of classes. Sometimes, when she attended school, teachers would complain, “Yu Qian, why are you always sleeping in class?”

She fell behind because she couldn’t understand the lessons and was exhausted from her shooting work.

Some teachers contacted her parents, but Qu Liwen told them not to worry about Yu Qian’s grades—she had other plans for her life.

Qu Liwen’s plan was for Yu Qian to remain a model forever, earning money through photoshoots.

Qu Liwen had a short temper and frequently scolded Yu Qian harshly on set, sometimes even resorting to physical violence.

Once, after being yelled at and locked outside by Qu Liwen, Yu Qian was taken in by Han Chu’s mother, who let her stay in Han Chu’s study to read with him.

Yu Qian had a bruise on her arm from being pinched. Han Chu applied ointment to it and then sat at the desk, reading The Little Prince in English to comfort her.

He spoke with fluent pronunciation. His mother brought in freshly cut fruit and gently reminded the two children not to strain their eyes—health was most important.

Han Chu read aloud about the Little Prince’s guilt toward his rose: “I was too young to understand love.”

Yu Qian suddenly asked, “How old is the Little Prince?”

Han Chu was surprised—surely Yu Qian couldn’t understand English?

But Yu Qian explained that she understood bits and pieces. Sometimes, foreign photographers on set spoke English, and over time, she picked things up.

At the time, Yu Qian was around eight or nine years old. She truly envied Han Chu’s family and admired his excellence.

But as they grew older, they became increasingly incompatible.

Their last meal together occurred after two or three years of no contact.

Yu Qian was 21, and Han Chu was 26, pursuing his Ph.D.

That period was one of the darkest times in Yu Qian’s life. After dropping out of high school at Qu Liwen’s insistence, she never continued her education.

During those years, she earned a lot of money and bought a red sports car, driving it to meet Han Chu for dinner.

Perhaps she harbored some desire to show off.

Yu Qian had just finished work and still wore her makeup and styled hair, appearing more mature than her actual age.

When she waved to Han Chu from her sports car, she clearly saw him frown.

That frown marked the beginning of their unpleasant conversation.

For Yu Qian, Han Chu—gentle and accomplished—had always been someone she admired deeply and confided in as an older brother.

But that day, with a furrowed brow, he asked her, “Have you ever thought about going back to school and learning something?”

Memories of being falsely accused of bullying resurfaced. Instinctively, Yu Qian responded that she was tired of school.

Han Chu glanced at the sports car parked outside the restaurant and asked, “Are you just going to keep falling like this?”

In those years, Yu Qian had been falsely accused of bullying, leading to her demotion and transfer to another school.

Even though it was still a high school in the capital city, rumors followed her. A group of self-proclaimed righteous teenagers began bullying her.

It wasn’t severe—her backpack would go missing, textbooks were defaced with insults, and instant noodles were spilled on her chair.

But back then, Yu Qian wasn’t as calm as she was now.

She felt sad and had nightmares.

When she told Qu Liwen, her mother scolded her: “Don’t be so dramatic. If you didn’t do anything wrong, why would they only bully you and not others?”

After dropping out, after feeling lost, Yu Qian finally emerged from those shadows. But that day, hearing Han Chu sigh and call her descent “self-destruction,” hurt deeply.

He assumed her car, bags, and accessories were gifts given with ulterior motives.

He assumed her lack of formal education meant she was giving up on herself.

It was also that day that Yu Qian drove to the middle school’s back alley, finding a quiet spot where she could hear classroom lectures and the ringing of bells.

The red-brick back wall was covered in ivy. Under the dim streetlights, the vines swayed gently like waves in the breeze.

At that moment, Yu Qian thought that if her memories of school were like an abyss, then the ivy rippling in the wind made the abyss somewhat pleasing to look at.

Underneath one section of the wall, some ivy had fallen off.

Before Yu Qian could think further, a skateboard suddenly flew over the wall, landing with a loud thud on the trunk of her car.

Then a boy climbed onto the wall, crouching to peer down. Seeing the sports car, he muttered a curse.

That day, Cheng Xiaonan jumped down from the wall, ignoring his skateboard, and walked over to inspect the damage to Yu Qian’s car. Then he apologized.

Back then, he was even more arrogant, and his apology carried a hint of bravado.

Cheng Xiaonan said, “Your car may be a bit expensive, but if you go to an official dealership, they won’t rip you off just because you’re a girl. Whatever it costs, come find me—I’ll pay for it. Let me leave you my number. Do you have your phone?”

Yu Qian’s phone was off that day. Cheng Xiaonan rummaged through his bag for a while but couldn’t find a pen.

Looking at Yu Qian, he clicked his tongue and said, “Top students don’t carry pens, you know?”

Yu Qian had never seen a “top student” like him. In the end, she handed him a brow pencil.

Cheng Xiaonan asked where to write. On impulse, Yu Qian extended her wrist. “Here.”

Holding her wrist, he wrote a “1” and then frowned, looking up. “Your skin’s so delicate—does writing here hurt?”

That summer in the capital city hadn’t fully ended yet. Cicadas chirped intermittently, and moths fluttered around the lamplight.

Yu Qian instinctively looked up, meeting a pair of genuinely questioning eyes.

During that time, Yu Qian’s mood wasn’t great. She often lingered in the backstreets of the middle school.

And she kept encountering Cheng Xiaonan, who always asked, “Why do you always park here?”

“Does this place belong to you?”

Cheng Xiaonan laughed. “No, not really.”

After saying that, he leaned on the car door, jumped into the passenger seat, and placed his baseball cap on her head. “Go ahead and cry.”

“Who said I wanted to cry?”

“Don’t underestimate a top student’s keen insight, alright? Cry if you want—I won’t laugh at you.”

That day, Yu Qian didn’t cry. Cheng Xiaonan directed her to a deserted area outside the city.

Parking by the roadside, he said, “Look up.”

So she gazed at the vast expanse of stars, and the tears in her heart dried under their brilliance.

Turning her head, she found Cheng Xiaonan watching her.

Yu Qian asked, “Why aren’t you looking at the stars? Why are you looking at me?”

Cheng Xiaonan grinned mischievously. “Because you’re prettier than the stars.”

During that time, Yu Qian was lost. She started reflecting on what she was doing, what she should do, and what she wanted to do.

Through that period of confusion, Cheng Xiaonan stayed by her side.

It was ironic. She had stumbled on the path of life, falling into the mud.

She thought the person she once admired would pull her up, like in her childhood, reading The Little Prince to her.

But no one did.

Instead, Cheng Xiaonan unexpectedly entered her life, jumping into the mud with her, rolling around, and then casually saying, “Alright, we’ve played enough—it’s time to get up.”

________________________________________

The next morning, when Yu Qian woke up, Sun Yue excitedly called her.

The girl chattered happily, saying her cold was completely gone and she had gotten a medical clearance. She had already shown it to Cheng Xiaonan and was on her way to the hotel.

She asked Yu Qian, “Qian, do you want me to bring you breakfast? I know a place near the hotel that makes amazing stuffed flatbread—it’s better than Popeye’s spinach! Want to try it?”

Yu Qian chuckled. “Sure, I’ll give it a try.”

Over the next few days, Yu Qian didn’t see Cheng Xiaonan. His coat was returned by Sun Yue.

Whether it was her imagination or not, Sun Yue seemed chattier and more attentive after recovering from her illness.

She practically clung to Yu Qian like her shadow.

The day before the runway show, as the makeup artist applied nail stickers to Yu Qian, Sun Yue circled around her anxiously. Amused, Yu Qian asked, “Sun Yue, aren’t you resting?”

Sun Yue shook her head. “I don’t have anything to do, so I’m not tired. Why should I rest? Are you cold? Do you need an air-conditioned blanket?”

“No, thanks. Just grab a chair and sit down,” Yu Qian said.

“I’ll squat—it’s fine!”

After finishing one hand, the makeup artist moved to the other. Sun Yue, squatting nearby, snapped photos enthusiastically, exclaiming how beautiful Yu Qian looked.

After a while, Sun Yue suddenly said, “Qian, if you’re feeling down about anything, you can tell me. I might not be good at other things, but I’m great at listening. Really! Back in school, I was known as an emotional trash bin!”

“How did you figure out I’m feeling down?”

“It wasn’t me.”

Sun Yue shook her head and then explained, “It was President Cheng. The night before I returned, he called me and said you might be feeling down. He said he couldn’t ask directly, but maybe it’d be easier for girls to talk. If I was better, he asked me to come and keep you company…”

After a pause, Yu Qian calmly replied, “I’m not feeling down. President Cheng is being overly sensitive.”

At the same time, Cheng Xiaonan sat in a makeshift conference room, finalizing details with An Gu and the team.

Though called a conference room, it was just a few tables pushed together, plastic chairs, and a partition made of KT boards.

However, the table was fully stocked with drinks and snacks, including a few bowls of nuts.

Cheng Xiaonan sat near the floor-to-ceiling window, from which he could clearly see Yu Qian testing nail stickers—one hand already done.

Sun Yue squatted beside her, chatting animatedly.

The two girls exchanged words, and Yu Qian’s eyebrows lifted slightly before she smiled faintly.

Her smile was always subtle. Cheng Xiaonan relaxed slightly as he turned his gaze away.

An Gu was still busy overseeing the stage setup and would join them later.

Shen Shen sat beside Cheng Xiaonan, hunched over, whispering into the phone to Ji Ran: “It’s already 2 PM, and I haven’t eaten lunch yet.”

Whatever Ji Ran said on the other end, Shen Shen shot Cheng Xiaonan a mournful glance and continued complaining: “Nan Ge doesn’t take care of me! The other night when I got drunk, he didn’t even escort me to my room—he made me take the elevator myself. I got off on the wrong floor and spent half the night outside, nearly freezing to death. Tell me, isn’t he heartless…?”

Cheng Xiaonan glanced at Shen Shen, thinking, Oops, he slipped up.

True enough, a few seconds later, Shen Shen started explaining: “I wasn’t drunk—it was just a little drink, barely anything! Just a small sip, Ran Ran, listen to me…”

Shen Shen ran outside with his phone, leaving the conference room.

In reality, Shen Shen wasn’t the only one who hadn’t eaten lunch. Almost everyone working at the venue was skipping meals.

An Gu’s team was meticulous about the runway setup. Once 80% of the stage decor was complete, they banned all smelly food from the venue.

If anyone was hungry, they could go out to eat, but no one had the time. They either nibbled on bread or skipped meals altogether.

A group of dedicated artistic madmen.

Cheng Xiaonan glanced toward Yu Qian. She had barely touched the whole wheat bread slice Sun Yue had given her, eating only half.

He pulled the bowl of pistachios closer and began shelling them one by one.

By the time Shen Shen returned, only a few intact pistachios remained in the bowl.

Staring at the pistachios blankly for a moment, Shen Shen turned to Cheng Xiaonan, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Nan Ge, don’t tell me you shelled all these for me?”

Cheng Xiaonan glanced at him. “Did Ji Ran scold you stupid?”

After shelling the last pistachio, Cheng Xiaonan wiped his hands with a wet wipe and prepared to call Sun Yue to take the kernels over.

Just then, he noticed a staff member wearing a work badge carrying a pile of shelled nuts toward Yu Qian…

The young man stood in front of Yu Qian, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, and handed her the nuts.

With exaggerated nails on her fingers, Yu Qian couldn’t take them herself, so Sun Yue helped.

Yu Qian smiled at the young man, mouthing a “thank you.”

Cheng Xiaonan turned back emotionlessly, glancing at the remaining nuts on the table. “Shen Shen.”

“Huh?”

“Eat the nuts—you’re hungry, right?”

“Aren’t you eating?”

Cheng Xiaonan crumpled the wet wipe and tossed it into the trash. “No.”

Shen Shen looked utterly confused, grabbing a handful and popping them into his mouth. Chewing, he asked, “If you’re not eating, why’d you shell so many?”

Cheng Xiaonan’s voice sounded like it was squeezed through gritted teeth.

He said, “Stress relief.”