When Mu Wan arrived at the film set the next morning, Mi Yu had just finished shooting a water scene.
Crew members helped her out.
Her face was pale.
Li Nan handed her a towel. After drying herself briefly, Mi Yu let her assistant help her toward the changing area.
The production kept its costumes in a large box truck beside a temporary dressing room divided into separate sections for men and women.
Every actor changed there.
Naturally, Mu Wan ran into Mi Yu when she went inside.
Mi Yu removed the soaked costume.
Her assistant held a large thermos and poured her something hot.
The weather was warm enough for scents to travel easily.
Mu Wan caught the smell of red-date ginger tea.
She glanced at Mi Yu again.
Her brows were tightly drawn.
Her face was pale.
So were her lips.
Filming water scenes during menstruation was hardly unusual for actresses.
No matter how famous someone became, a production schedule rarely reorganized itself around one person’s cycle.
A heavy ache dragged through Mi Yu’s lower abdomen.
The surrounding air was sticky with summer heat, yet inside she felt painfully cold.
She drank some of the ginger tea.
A thin sheen of sweat appeared across her skin.
The cold ache in her abdomen remained.
Irritated, Mi Yu abruptly poured the tea away.
Her assistant silently took the lid from her hand and did not dare do anything else.
Fortunately, Mi Yu’s attention had already shifted elsewhere.
Through the haze of pain, she noticed Mu Wan changing nearby.
“Did Li Nan tell you?”
Mu Wan looked over.
“In a few days, I’m going to Wen City to film that television drama. They arranged a role for you too. The one Director Zhang Chengze is making.”
Whenever Mi Yu joined a production, Mu Wan often ended up with a supporting role in the same project.
It was almost a package arrangement.
One successful actress brought enough work for two people at their small agency.
“Not yet.”
Mu Wan stood near one of the changing partitions and smiled at her.
“Thank you, Sister Yu.”
Mi Yu gave a faint laugh.
She took out a slim cigarette.
Her assistant immediately lit it.
Smoke curled around Mi Yu’s face and drifted past the fine lines near the corners of her eyes.
In truth, Mu Wan did not need to thank her this time.
Director Zhang Chengze had personally contacted Li Nan and asked for Mu Wan.
At the previous dinner, Mu Wan had drunk on Mi Yu’s behalf, and Zhang Chengze had clearly remembered her.
Now he had specifically requested that she join his production.
What he might expect in return was not difficult to guess.
The entertainment industry had deep waters.
Unspoken bargains and hidden expectations were commonplace.
But Mu Wan had almost no ambition.
Whatever expectations someone attached to giving her a role were likely to go unanswered.
She understood the rules of the industry perfectly well.
She simply chose not to play by all of them.
People like her rarely climbed very high.
Mu Wan had no desire to.
She gained less.
But she also had less to surrender.
Mi Yu studied her face.
Another wave of pain tightened her brows.
She drew on the cigarette, then spoke coolly.
“I’m getting older.”
Smoke drifted from her lips.
“There won’t be many roles left for me eventually.”
She looked at Mu Wan.
“Maybe someday I’ll need you to help me instead.”
Mu Wan paused.
Then she smiled.
It was the first time Mi Yu had ever initiated a real conversation with her.
It was also the longest they had spoken.
They were not close, but Mu Wan knew enough about Mi Yu to understand how competitive she was.
That last sentence did not sound like something she would normally say.
Mu Wan assumed Mi Yu was mocking how many opportunities had fallen into her lap through other people.
“I’m not capable of anything impressive.”
She laughed lightly.
“I’m destined for minor roles. And most of those roles came from you in the first place.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t make such a terrifying joke about me supporting you.”
Mi Yu watched her for a long moment.
With a face like Mu Wan’s, half the conditions needed for fame were already there.
The other half had to be fought for.
Mu Wan simply did not want to fight.
Another sharper cramp struck.
Mi Yu did not continue the conversation.
Her gaze swept briefly over Mu Wan’s long legs before she stood and left.
After filming ended, Li Nan finally told Mu Wan about the Wen City production.
Her role would be larger than usual this time.
She would need to spend about two weeks with the production.
Fortunately, Wen City was close to Xia City.
The high-speed train took only half an hour.
If filming ended early enough, she could still return to Xia City that evening.
In the past, Mu Wan never bothered coming home while shooting out of town.
If the crew stayed somewhere for several days, she stayed with them.
This was the first time she had found herself considering traveling back and forth every day.
As for why...
It was because of the kittens.
At least, that was the explanation Mu Wan settled on.
Filming ended at four thirty that afternoon.
Zhongfen was being discharged today.
Mu Wan had planned to pick him up.
She also wanted to ask when Liu Qianxiu would finish work.
If she brought Zhongfen back to her own apartment and accidentally let him get chilled again, another veterinary stay could seriously weaken such a young kitten.
She took out her phone.
“You already picked up Zhongfen?”
Mu Wan stood near the entrance to the film studio.
Behind her stretched a busy row of snack shops and restaurants crowded with people.
Yet somehow, all she really heard was Liu Qianxiu’s voice through the phone.
“Mm. I picked him up at noon.”
The faint sound of paper turning accompanied his answer.
He really did take the kittens seriously.
Mu Wan checked the time.
Four thirty.
If she went home first, she would arrive at around five fifteen.
By then, Liu Qianxiu would probably be nearly finished with work.
A taxi stopped beside her.
The driver lowered the window and asked if she needed a ride.
Mu Wan waved him on.
Then she returned her attention to the phone.
“What time do you finish?”
Liu Qianxiu had no surgery scheduled that afternoon.
“Five thirty.”
Mu Wan calculated quickly.
“Okay.”
A smile touched her lips.
“See you then.”
She ended the call.
Another taxi approached from farther down the road.
Mu Wan raised her hand, climbed inside, and pulled the door shut.
“Tang’er Hospital, please.”
Traffic was heavier than she expected.
By the time Mu Wan reached Tang’er Hospital, it was already five thirty.
She paid the fare and hurried toward the emergency building.
By now, she knew the area well.
She crossed the parking lot, stepped onto the edge of a flower bed, and prepared to take a shortcut.
Then she looked toward the entrance of the emergency department.
And stopped.
The last of the rain had fallen the night before.
By morning, the sky had cleared.
At five thirty, the sunlight was no longer harsh.
It slanted in from the west, warm and pale, stretching the shadows of the people moving through the hospital entrance.
Beside the hurried flow of patients and staff stood two doctors.
Liu Qianxiu had not changed yet.
He was still wearing his white coat.
Clean.
Quiet.
Restrained.
In the late-afternoon light, even his usually cool expression seemed softer.
His eyes were lowered slightly as he listened to the woman beside him.
She was a doctor too.
Pretty.
Delicate.
Her white coat did little to hide her graceful figure.
She seemed to say something amusing.
Then she smiled at Liu Qianxiu.
Warm.
Gentle.
Mu Wan’s gaze slowly dropped.
Their shadows overlapped across the hospital steps.
Something unfamiliar stirred inside her.
She looked at the two shadows for another moment.
Then raised her head.
“Liu Qianxiu!”
Her voice was neither loud nor soft.
Just enough.
Liu Qianxiu looked up.
His gaze moved toward the flower bed.
Mu Wan stood balanced on its narrow stone edge beneath the slanting sunlight.
Tall.
Slender.
Smiling.
Her frame was fine-boned, her figure softly curved.
Long pale legs stretched beneath her, and on her right knee was the square piece of gauze Liu Qianxiu had applied the night before.
One corner had already begun to peel away.
She was beautiful.
Her small face was vivid beneath the sunset.
Her lips were red and slightly curved.
Fragments of golden light seemed to shimmer inside her dark eyes.
When she saw that he was looking at her, Mu Wan jumped down from the flower bed.
Her long hair lifted behind her shoulders.
She walked toward him.
Then smiled.
“Liu Qianxiu.”
Her eyes stayed on his.
“I came to wait for you.”
Only people wait.
And she had come to wait for him.
Oh my 🤭. The authors ending comments are always lovely
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