Misunderstanding

When she was eighteen, she told the Yan family about her orientation. She had thought that, on her coming-of-age birthday, they might go easier on her, but they didn’t.

That night, walking home alone, she thought of going to confess to Jiang Lan. Back then, all she wanted was to live with the person she loved; money and status were things she could put aside completely.

But not long after, two days before she had decided to make her feelings known, Jiang Lan went abroad. Even the friends around them only found out after Jiang Lan had landed overseas.

Yan Yue slammed on the brakes, suddenly guessing something.

She turned the wheel, then stopped again, and finally let go. She could go and confirm it, but what was the point after confirming it? So many years had already passed.

Jiang Lan... that name felt distant and unfamiliar, yet it still made her heart tremble.

Once filming officially began on the variety show, Qin Qingyan only appeared in one episode. Because of that, the director treasured every bit of footage, repeatedly reminding the cameraman to stay close at all times; the cameraman repeatedly promised he would.

In the end, though, they still miscalculated.

On camera, Qin Qingyan sat on a small stool by the pond. After fixing the fishing rod in place, she lounged in the sun lazily, spending an hour or two just fishing. The cameraman had no choice but to ask the director for instructions; the director gritted his teeth and said just one word: “Film it!”

Not long after, Qin Qingyan seemed to feel how strong the sun was and pulled her sun hat down over her face. At that point there was even less to shoot.

The show had five regular cast members, and each episode invited whatever guest happened to be available. The production team didn’t assign any clear tasks; the main thing was to film the artists’ private day-to-day lives.

Qin Qingyan had volunteered to fish, and that would be their lunch for the day.

Before long, she caught another one. The fish was lively, thrashing about. She was used to banging it once against a rock; after it went limp, she tossed it into the bucket. Glancing inside, she saw three fish. Enough for a meal.

After packing up, she put on her sun hat and carried the bucket back to the small villa where they were filming.

The other cast members hadn’t expected Qin Qingyan to actually catch fish, let alone three, and they all praised her. Some of it was sincere; some was flattering politeness.

“We’ve got the fish, so let’s prep them first. Shushu and the others aren’t back yet; we’ll wait for them,” said one of the older cast members with a smile.

“I’ll help too.” As a regular, Yu Qingyan was especially diligent every episode; at least the other regulars she’d just gotten to know had a very good impression of her.

Suppressing her fear, she reached into the bucket for the slippery fish. After a struggle, she finally managed to grab one and lifted it up happily, but before long the fish twisted hard and shot free, thrashing desperately on the ground.

Everyone burst out laughing, then someone helped catch it again.

Yu Qingyan could only smile helplessly.

The faucet was turned on, and water ran over a slightly slanted stone slab. Qin Qingyan was carefully scraping off the scales, barely paying any attention to Yu Qingyan beside her.

Yu Qingyan noticed where the cameras were pointed. She had to find something to talk about; otherwise, if this aired, wouldn’t it prove the online rumors that they didn’t get along? For Qin Qingyan, it might not matter, but Yu Qingyan’s image was built on being beautiful and kind. Since she had already enjoyed the benefits of that image, no matter how unwilling she was, she had to keep smiling.

“I watched 《Three Selves》. It was really shocking. Everyone sitting in the rows in front of and behind me in the theater was crying. I thought it would be a lighthearted comedy, but I didn’t expect it to be so tragic. It really stayed with me,” Yu Qingyan said with a smile, as if still savoring it.

“Really? Then that’s a very good compliment,” Qin Qingyan said.

“Your acting has improved a lot. It’s been less than a year, right? How did you do it?” Yu Qingyan asked sincerely. After all, strength was the foundation for standing in the entertainment industry.

Without even lifting her head, Qin Qingyan said, “Observe everyone around you. They’re the best teachers.”

“We’re back!” Xu Shushu waved as she came in; the moment she saw Qin Qingyan, her steps quickened.

She was wearing a white sun-protective jacket, tied in a knot at the waist. Underneath was a black tight short-sleeved shirt, and her straight legs beneath her denim shorts were so pale in the sunlight they seemed to glow. She carried two large buckets full of vegetables, one in each hand.

Qin Qingyan washed her hands and went over to help Xu Shushu carry one bucket. Xu Shushu handed it over, barely hiding her happiness, and the two walked back to the villa side by side.

After that, Qin Qingyan quickly finished cleaning the fish she hadn’t fully handled earlier, then went over and sat beside Xu Shushu to shell beans together. Yu Qingyan was still struggling, and one of the actors saw it and went over to help.

“Qingyan, is this your only episode?” Xu Shushu asked boldly.

“Mm. I’m not used to variety shows; acting suits me better,” Qin Qingyan said as she shelled the beans.

“Then... why were you willing to come this time?” Xu Shushu asked carefully. There was a faint hope in her heart, even though she knew the chances were tiny.

Qin Qingyan tipped the beans in her hand into the basin, then pulled over another handful and thought for a moment before saying, “Because the sea is close here.”

Xu Shushu’s mood dimmed a little, then quickly lifted again. “You like watching the sea?”

Qin Qingyan nodded.

Another regular actor came over to help. He had heard their earlier conversation and followed up, “That’s convenient; the beach is only about a half-hour drive from here. If you want to see it, we can all go together sometime.”

Qin Qingyan smiled at him but said nothing, lowering her head and continuing to shell the beans. Watching the sea was the sort of romantic, beautiful thing that should be done with the person you loved.

Thinking of that, she tapped at her phone with clean fingers. The message she was hoping for still hadn’t come, so she turned off the screen again.

“Ah!” Xu Shushu suddenly flung the beans in her hand away in panic; even her voice was trembling.

Looking at the ground, Qin Qingyan saw that the beans had gone bad. Inside were small greenish-white worms wriggling about. She stretched out her foot, about to crush them, but then she thought of Xu Shushu’s frightened expression and changed her mind, flicking them away with her hand instead.

The male actor shelling beans nearby looked at the two of them and suddenly smiled faintly, with a knowing expression. Just then, the camera captured the whole moment.

Lunch was sumptuous. There were exactly seven dishes for the seven people, beautifully plated and fragrant.

Qin Qingyan tasted a bite; it really was good. At that point it could be considered a feast for the eyes, nose, and tongue all at once. Seeing the black chicken noodles in the big bowl in the center, she picked up a chopstickful. Right after she finished eating, someone promptly asked how it tasted.

“Nine points,” she said.

“Then where did the one point go?” someone pressed.

“Everything else is great; it’s just that I can’t eat it every day, so I’m deducting one point,” Qin Qingyan said with a smile.

In truth, the perfect ten in her heart was entirely due to her bias. If that person burned the food, she would still smile and eat it, then give that exclusive perfect score with praise.

That answer immediately made the owner of the noodles overjoyed. Who wouldn’t want their effort recognized?

“Cooking really is a skill. I’ve been learning for half a year, and what I make still doesn’t taste as good as this. Such a waste of all that money,” one actor said.

They ate, chatted, and laughed; the atmosphere was fairly harmonious.

As the conversation went on, the topic returned to Qin Qingyan. Qin Qingyan also understood some of the show’s little arrangements, so she tried her best to cooperate with their questions.

“You’re only twenty?” one actor said in surprise. “I thought you were at least twenty-five or twenty-six. You’re that young?”

Looking at everyone’s reactions, he wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“Don’t I look like it?” Qin Qingyan said with a helpless smile.

“Oh, you’re beautiful, and everyone in the entertainment industry takes good care of themselves; it’s hard to guess someone’s real age. He means you seem steady, and the way you deal with people doesn’t look like someone just past twenty,” someone explained with a laugh.

The man agreed, saying that was exactly what he meant.

Yu Qingyan suddenly laughed and asked Qin Qingyan, “Qingyan, the seven of us all have different personalities here. If you had to choose an ideal type, who would you lean toward?”

The question was out of place. It was asking about private matters, and if answered poorly, it could easily stir up trouble. Because of that question, several seasoned actors at the table who had previously had a good impression of Yu Qingyan quietly became wary of her.

“I don’t really have an ideal type. Whoever I fall in love with is my ideal type. I only feel admiration for everyone here; I wouldn’t dare fall in love with everyone I meet,” Qin Qingyan said with a natural smile, defusing the question in just a sentence or two.

When night fell and the sky darkened, Qin Qingyan sat on the swing outside, looking up at the stars. Two stars were close together; she stared at them for a long time.

The night was cool, so she got up and went back inside.

Before sleeping, she looked at her phone again. Still no message. She turned off the light and fell asleep alone, her heart full of unsettled thoughts.

The next day, Qin Qingyan slept until eight. Reaching for her phone, she saw thirteen missed calls, all from Su Yan. There were also several missed voice messages on WeChat. Beneath the voice messages was a picture.

She clicked it open in confusion, and for an instant, her breathing stopped.

The photo was taken by the sea. Two women were walking side by side, yet just as they happened to turn and look at each other, the bright, warm smile on the woman in red was so glaring to Qin Qingyan that it hurt.

And the other woman, wearing a loose white shirt, was Yan Yue.

Qin Qingyan quickly forced herself to calm down. They were probably just friends; meeting a friend was normal. She didn’t even call back. Instead, she borrowed a production car and opened the navigation Su Yan had sent.

It took less than half an hour to get there. She hurried down the steps, scanning her surroundings as she ran.

It was around eight-thirty, and the beach was getting crowded. The jumble of colorful clothes threw her vision into disorder. Finally, after several minutes, she caught sight of the two figures from the photo in the distance.

They were sitting on a bench, resting.

Qin Qingyan suddenly wanted to do something. She knew she probably shouldn’t, but after a struggle, she still did it.

She sent Yan Yue a message: “Are you still at home?”

She saw Yan Yue in the distance open her screen, then quickly reply: “What’s wrong?”

“Are you at home?” Qin Qingyan asked stubbornly.

After a moment, the other side sent back: “I am. Is something the matter?”

Qin Qingyan’s hand dropped weakly. She didn’t reply again; she only felt cold all over, her breathing growing difficult, something clogged in both her throat and her heart.

She wanted to flee, but her legs were beyond her control; she couldn’t take a single step. Her eyes could only see the matching red and white figures in the distance.

When no reply came after that, Yan Yue found it a little strange. It seemed like this was the first time something like this had happened.

“Busy?” Jiang Lan asked.

“It’s nothing,” Yan Yue said, putting away her phone.

She had originally come to find Qin Qingyan and planned to give her a surprise, then go look at the sea together after filming ended. Who would have thought she’d unexpectedly run into Jiang Lan instead? The world was strange that way. Back then, at an event with only three or four hundred people, she had tried so hard to see Jiang Lan just once and still hadn’t managed it.

Now, with such a tiny probability, they had run into each other after all.