The streetlights flickered to life, casting a distant, warm glow upon An Yanqing.
The light stung her eyes momentarily. She tugged the brim of her hat lower, no longer meeting Zhong Chu’s gaze.
“What, did Grandpa Zhong kick you out of the house?”
Her tone was neither warm nor cold, yet An Yanqing possessed a unique talent for making every word that reached Zhong Chu’s ears sound like a provocation.
“So what if he did?” The corners of Zhong Chu’s lips curled slightly. She fidgeted with the small red booklet she had nearly thrown away earlier, gripping it like a legal “Sword of Damocles” used to restrain An Yanqing. That aggressive shade of red was her weapon, its blade pressed firmly against An Yanqing’s throat.
The tactic worked. At the very least, An Yanqing’s gaze was currently held captive by that red, nearly freezing upon the thin booklet.
Having torn off her tie earlier, she hadn’t put it back on. The top button of her shirt was also undone, and the open collar revealed a striking expanse of pale skin, yet she still felt a tightening in her throat.
Zhong Chu’s wrist swayed nonchalantly. With her movements, the “blade” would suddenly distance itself, only to abruptly draw near again.
An Yanqing felt a bit suffocated. Her fingers instinctively reached for her collar to undo a second button.
She stated flatly, “My place doesn’t have an extra room for you.”
She was telling the truth, but in this context, Zhong Chu naturally interpreted it as a counterattack and a provocation.
The swaying red stopped abruptly. A flash of irritation crossed Zhong Chu’s face. “Grand Superstar An, if you’re going to find an excuse to lie to me, at least put some heart into it. You were the lead actress in the production you just finished. Do you really think I don’t know what your salary looks like?”
She slapped the small red booklet against her palm. The crisp thwack sounded again and again, accompanying her mocking tone as it drilled into An Yanqing’s ears.
“The Galaxy Media agency you belong to is a Zhong family asset. Technically speaking, I’m your boss. Using that kind of talk to bluff others is fine, but lying to my face is simply not taking me seriously, isn’t it?”
An Yanqing still didn’t look up. She stared silently at the swaying shadows on the ground, listening to the upward lilt of Zhong Chu’s voice and her slow, derisive question: “Could a superstar like you actually be short on cash?”
An Yanqing suddenly felt a chill. The cool late-summer night breeze bit into her bones, carrying a hint of autumn’s impending severity. Dressed only in a thin white shirt, she found it hard to fend off the aggressive cold.
She slowly pulled down her rolled-up sleeves. With a heavy heart and a sense of exhaustion, she said, “Zhong Chu, why would I lie to you about something like this? What good would it do me?”
Zhong Chu laughed, crossing her arms casually. The corners of her eyes and brows arched simultaneously as her soft voice sharpened into an invisible blade: “By marrying me, haven’t you gained enough ‘good’ already?”
An Yanqing’s raised hand dropped. She looked at her and spoke: “When the Zhong family gave me resources, they never once asked beforehand if I…”
The rest of the sentence remained unspoken. Beneath the brim of her hat, An Yanqing’s eyes met Zhong Chu’s for a brief moment, harboring complex emotions that the latter couldn’t decipher.
She shifted back to a calm statement: “Grandpa Zhong was the one who proposed the engagement.”
She stopped talking. Faced with this answer, Zhong Chu didn’t know how to respond either. The old man was deep and calculating; he was lukewarm toward her father, yet his doting on her—his granddaughter—bordered on indulgence. Still, she could never understand his thoughts.
That included this current move, where the old man had uncharacteristically ignored her wishes and forced her to marry An Yanqing, a rival she had never gotten along with.
Since An Yanqing didn’t take the initiative to speak, there wasn’t much left for them to talk about. The atmosphere turned stagnant. Zhong Chu felt it was rather dull and stopped her fidgeting.
“An Yanqing…” She frowned at her, wanting to say something, but her red lips parted and then stopped.
She was half a head shorter than An Yanqing. Looking up at her always felt like a subtle, uncomfortable posture.
Perhaps it was the psychological illusion of being at a disadvantage, but the slight discomfort was hard to put into words. Zhong Chu glanced around, saw a set of stairs beside An Yanqing, and climbed up in two steps.
Now, when she turned to look at An Yanqing, her slight upward gaze had transformed into a downward look.
An Yanqing’s downward gaze followed her movements. Between her hat brim and her mask, only a pair of calm eyes were visible. The warm yellow streetlights created a cozy atmosphere, but it only served to make her eyes—like cold stars—appear even more desolate.
The night wind picked up, brushing past An Yanqing’s aloof features. She stared back at Zhong Chu in silence, her gaze devoid of any ripple.
Clutching the red booklet, Zhong Chu suddenly felt a surge of irritability. “Grandpa Zhong, Grandpa Zhong… why do you call him so affectionately? People who know realize he’s my grandfather, but those who don’t might think you and I actually have a good relationship.”
She was in a bad mood, and her words inevitably carried a spark of anger.
An Yanqing said daintily, “Grandpa Zhong asked me to call him that. If you’re unhappy about it, you can go settle it with him directly.”
“Furthermore,” she looked at the splash of red in Zhong Chu’s hand, her eyes narrowing as she used Zhong Chu’s own logic against her, “We are a legal couple. Your grandfather is my grandfather. From now on, when I see him, I’m afraid I’ll have to drop the ‘Zhong’ entirely.”
Zhong Chu had wanted to throw the eyesore away earlier. Hearing An Yanqing’s words and seeing that red color now, the sense of discomfort intensified. “Are you just used to stealing my things? And now, you’re even going to steal my grandfather?”
An Yanqing’s gaze shifted slightly. For a moment, she dazed out looking at their two shadows merged on the ground. The shadows were intertwined and intimate, far closer than their masters actually were.
She pressed her throbbing temples and quietly shifted her feet, separating the two shadows.
Zhong Chu didn’t notice the small movement. She only heard An Yanqing’s voice, which sounded slightly hoarse and weary: “Zhong Chu, ask yourself, what have I ever stolen from you?”
“Do I need to remind you? If your skills aren’t up to par, you have to accept defeat. Are you really that much of a sore loser?”
That single sentence reignited the fire in Zhong Chu’s heart. She stared intently at that familiar face, and memories of their years of rivalry flashed through her mind.
From petty conflicts to tripping each other up, from sharp confrontations to childish bickering—all sorts of memories buried deep in her mind, long faded, suddenly became vivid.
She wanted to argue, but when the words reached her lips, she felt there was nowhere to start. The entanglements were too deep and heavy; if she were to re-examine them and settle old scores, one night wouldn’t be nearly enough time.
She lowered her head irritably. Seeing the small red booklet in her hand, she couldn’t help but click her tongue.
She had wanted to throw this thing away long ago, but with her grandfather’s instructions hanging over her, she couldn’t just toss it before letting the old man see it.
At this thought, Zhong Chu brushed aside her other chaotic musings and gave the item in her hand a casual flick. “It’s too late today. Grandpa just called me; he wants us to go back and rest first, then go see him tomorrow.”
The transition was jarringly blunt, and An Yanqing couldn’t help but furrow her brows.
The proud young miss had always been a darling of fortune, accustomed to acting on every whim. Even though An Yanqing had offered an explanation, Zhong Chu had no intention of listening. An Yanqing’s own wishes were never factored into her heart; if Zhong Chu wanted to do something, she made sure it happened.
She had already made the executive decision to take An Yanqing home. Just as An Yanqing was about to refuse, Zhong Chu suddenly leaned in and shoved the items into An Yanqing’s pocket.
Caught off guard by the move, An Yanqing’s train of thought was broken. She took a sharp step back, instinctively raising a hand to block her, but Zhong Chu was too fast—she had already finished what she set out to do.
An Yanqing’s question came half a beat late: “What are you doing?”
Two small red booklets now sat stacked in the same pocket. They didn’t weigh much—so light they felt almost non-existent. However, as Zhong Chu had leaned in, her hand had instinctively braced against An Yanqing’s waist for support.
The thin fabric was quite breathable. Their skin met briefly through the material, allowing each to clearly sense the other’s body heat. Even though Zhong Chu withdrew the touch immediately, the lingering warmth on An Yanqing’s skin refused to dissipate for a long time.
Zhong Chu straightened up, slightly startled by An Yanqing’s abrupt reaction. Her previous agitation vanished, replaced by a sense of discovery, as if she had suddenly found An Yanqing’s weakness. She raised her finger again, pointing at her waist from a distance, unable to stop a smile from curling her lips. “Is your body really that sensitive?”
Her own outfit lacked pockets, and since she couldn’t throw the red booklets away but found them an eyesore to hold, she figured “out of sight, out of mind” was best—letting the booklets’ other owner take care of them.
She had intended it as a joke, but as she looked down at An Yanqing while laughing, something suddenly felt off.
Standing two steps higher on the stairs, Zhong Chu had a superior vantage point. When they were further apart, it wasn’t as noticeable, but at this distance and angle, she had a direct view of the scene at An Yanqing’s chest.
An Yanqing had removed her tie earlier and undone two buttons. Normally, the shirt would have sat properly against her body, but the tugging from Zhong Chu’s earlier motion of stuffing the pocket had pulled the hem. The fabric shifted slightly, revealing a striking expanse of white and the deep, elegant lines of her collarbones.
Zhong Chu had previously been standing with her back to the streetlights, casting a shadow over An Yanqing. Now, as she moved, a gap opened up. The features of An Yanqing’s face visible outside her mask were gilded with a warm, bright yellow glow, softening the cold aura she had projected earlier.
Drenched in the warm light, she looked up quietly. Her eyes held the reflection of the amber glow and the faint silhouette of Zhong Chu.
She looked… almost docile. She lacked entirely the aggressive momentum she usually had when bickering.
Zhong Chu’s heart gave an inexplicable skip. She retracted her finger. For some reason, the words she intended to say got stuck in her throat, coming out instead as: “An Yanqing, button up your clothes.”
An Yanqing’s brow twitched slightly, clearly surprised. She looked down at herself but didn’t follow the order; instead, she instinctively rubbed the spot on her waist where she had been touched earlier. “It’s fine.”
The moment the words left her mouth, Zhong Chu felt her own demand had been awkward. An Yanqing’s resistance was expected; that fleeting impression of docility was completely out of character for how she usually behaved.
It would be a miracle if she actually listened to me, Zhong Chu thought.
Standing right in front of her and losing patience for talk, Zhong Chu frowned and reached out directly to do up the buttons for her.
Before she could get close this time, An Yanqing took a proactive step back. Light and shadow flowed across her face, illuminating her elegant brows and cool eyes. Within her gaze, deep and complex emotions swirled—emotions that Zhong Chu found impossible to decipher.
But quickly, everything vanished as the light faded. She stepped back into the shadow cast by Zhong Chu’s body, returning to silence.
The light was dim now, and with her head slightly bowed, her hat and mask obscured her expression. Zhong Chu couldn’t read her mood; she only heard her voice, kept very low, asking softly:
“Zhong Chu, what are you thinking?”