Chapter 22 (1/2)
After Mu Wan finished her final shot, she was blasted backward by the staged explosion, rolled out of the trench, and hit the ground.
Liu Qianxiu was sitting in the car watching.
She had tried her best to fall prettily, but once she got back to her feet, her eyelashes were caked with dust, and she knew perfectly well that she must look like some bedraggled refugee.
When filming wrapped, Mu Wan went to the dressing room to change. Before going to find Liu Qianxiu, she ducked into the restroom and washed her face clean.
When she looked up again, the face in the mirror looked as smooth and delicate as a freshly peeled egg. Beneath her long dark brows, her eyes were bright and clear; her nose was fine and small; her lips held a touch of red.
Even without makeup, she was beautiful.
Mu Wan wiped away the water on her face with both hands and turned to leave the restroom.
Liu Qianxiu’s car was parked outside the studio base.
The day had warmed quickly, and by ten in the morning the temperature had already reached thirty degrees. Mu Wan had just come from a battlefield scene and felt as though she had walked straight out of a furnace. The sweat on her skin kept evaporating almost as soon as it formed.
When she reached the car, she pulled open the door and saw Liu Qianxiu in the driver’s seat.
Cool air rushed toward her.
His figure was reflected in her eyes.
Her body cooled. So did her heart.
Something flickered in Mu Wan’s gaze. Smiling, she got into the car and fastened her seat belt.
She had not dried her face before coming out. The air outside had still felt damp enough that it had not bothered her, but once she got into the air-conditioned car, her skin began to feel slightly tight. Mu Wan took out some moisturizer and dotted it onto her face. The loose strands beside her ears had been dampened with water and clung obediently to her cheeks.
“How come you came over?” she asked.
Up until now, it had always been her going to the hospital to wait for him to get off work. This was the first time Liu Qianxiu had come to find her at the studio base.
She was very happy.
Because this was different from before.
Something between them had clearly changed.
As for what exactly had changed, her mind was too sweetly overheated to sort it out properly. All she knew was that her heart felt sugary and cool at once, like eating a strawberry popsicle.
“I was passing by,” Liu Qianxiu replied calmly.
“Oh.”
Mu Wan’s voice curled at the end, light and lingering.
With her long fingers, she slowly rubbed the white moisturizer across her still-warm cheeks, smoothing it in. She had arrived on set at four in the morning and had been filming for a full six hours. Now that she was in the car, the tension in both her body and mind began to drain away.
After finishing with the lotion, she stretched her slender body out against the window the way a stray cat, after wandering, might finally find a sheltered corner to curl up in. Looking out at the studio base still bustling under the heat, she settled deeper into the seat.
“Do you usually film like this?” Liu Qianxiu asked.
The car started and rocked lightly. His voice was cool and clear, like something that had traveled through a mountain forest with morning dew still clinging to it.
“Yes.” Mu Wan withdrew her gaze. “A lot of supporting-role scenes are like this. In the end, they all die one way or another.”
The corner of her eyes lifted slightly as she turned back to him.
“I’ve died countless times on camera,” she said. “Every possible kind of death, I’ve done it. Probably more than you’ve seen, and you’re the doctor.”
There was even a trace of pride in her tone.
The car stopped at a T-junction. Liu Qianxiu switched on the left turn signal and, looking at the bright pride in her eyes, asked in his low voice, “Do you like being an actress?”
“Not exactly.”
Mu Wan shook her head, thought about it, and said, “I’m only pretty. Acting makes money faster than anything else I could do.”
Liu Qianxiu gave her a long, unreadable look.
Mu Wan’s lashes flickered.
Then, a little guilty, she muttered, “The dust was covering it today.”
The light turned green.
Liu Qianxiu started the car again. His profile was finely shaped, the line of his mouth composed and unreadable.
As the car turned into the main road, he looked ahead at the broad flat stretch of asphalt and said lightly, “Fame pays even more.”
The trees by the road slid by in a rush. The sky was high and white with heat.
Mu Wan looked at him, then lightly wet her lips.
When she finally turned her eyes back toward the road ahead, she said, “But then I wouldn’t be able to come see you every day. I want money to come quickly, yes—but even more than that, I want a steady life.”
Liu Qianxiu lowered his lashes slightly.
Her voice lingered in the car even after she finished. He kept driving, but said nothing more.
When they got back to his place, Mu Wan changed into slippers. Watching Liu Qianxiu head toward the bedroom, she hesitated, then asked,
“Can I take a shower at your place?”
His steps paused.
He turned back to look at her.
Mu Wan met his quiet gaze head-on, though her heartbeat was speeding up.
“I’ve been filming since early morning,” she explained. “I’m covered in dust. I feel awful.”
As she spoke, she scratched lightly at her hair. Her high ponytail completely exposed her fresh, fair face. Truthfully, the only clean part of her at the moment was probably that face.
Liu Qianxiu said nothing.
Instead, he turned away from the bedroom and went to a room Mu Wan had never entered before. He opened the door.
“There’s a separate bathroom here,” he said.
“Thank you.”
The moment he agreed, Mu Wan hurried over, asking as she went, “Do you have all the shower stuff?”
“No.”
Mu Wan: “...”
“I’ll get it.”
The two master bedrooms in the apartment each had their own bathroom and shower. There was no shared one.
The moment he said he would get what she needed, something inside Mu Wan was lightly brushed, like grass bending under the wind. What he brought would have to be things he himself used.
Which meant that, in a way, this counted as indirect bodily contact.
Mu Wan’s face heated up again.
Liu Qianxiu looked at her faintly flushed cheeks, then let his eyes drop to her narrow shoulders. She was wearing a cropped black T-shirt that exposed a strip of pale midriff. Even the shirt itself was dusted with dirt.
“Do you want clothes too?” he asked.
Mu Wan looked up sharply.
Her face seemed to redden even more, flushing all the way from the line of her cheek to the tips of her ears. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. Her throat tightened slightly.
“Hm?” she said, the sound rising like the flick of a cat’s tail. Lightly biting her lower lip, she asked, “Do you have women’s clothes here?”
“No,” Liu Qianxiu said. “Only things I’ve worn.”
Only things I’ve worn.
“Yes,” Mu Wan said at once. “I want them.”
Liu Qianxiu brought her clothes and shower supplies, and Mu Wan took the whole pile into the room.
His apartment was large, and even the second bedroom was spacious. It was not empty the way she had imagined. The décor, like the living room, leaned pale gray—but unlike the living room, this bedroom felt much more modern.
There was a large bed, a hanging lamp, a walk-in closet, decorative paintings, a sofa, and a projector. The sliding doors to the balcony were tightly shut. The pale curtains had been drawn back, revealing a wooden balcony completely bare, quiet, and a little cold.
Such a large room was clearly meant for guests, and yet it did not seem as though anyone had ever really stayed there—otherwise it would not lack even the most basic spare toiletries.
Carrying everything in her arms, Mu Wan went barefoot into the bathroom.
She took only a simple shower, washing the dust from her body and the fatigue from her bones. By the time she was done, she felt as though her whole vision had cleared.
Using a towel to dry her damp hair, she searched around and only then realized there was no hairdryer.
Water still dripped from the ends of her hair.
After blotting at it a little more, Mu Wan reached for the clothes she had been given.
The moment her eyes landed on them, a flush rose up through her chest and set her face burning again.
He really had given her the clothes he had worn.
Because she had seen him wearing them before.
The long cotton-linen shirt and trousers had fitted him perfectly, making his lean frame look even taller and cleaner.
When she picked them up, the weave felt fine beneath her fingers, and the slight current of air they stirred carried with it a faint scent of sandalwood.
Even the clothes smelled like him.
Cool. Abstinent. Quietly severe.
Mu Wan took the long shirt and pulled it on from below like a T-shirt. It fit Liu Qianxiu perfectly, but on her it hung loose and oversized, the hem dropping well below mid-thigh. The thin fabric brushed against her skin, slightly rough and cool. Wrapped in sandalwood, she felt as though she were touching something forbidden, and the heat in her rose uncontrollably.
She yanked at the sleeves, then told herself sternly that she was being shameless. Patting her cheeks once or twice, she hurried out.
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