A Love Letter Written to You - Chapter 40

Chapter 40

 

The campsite was on a plateau at the mountain summit. As they stood there gazing out, what met their eyes was the expanse of Yacheng’s vast forest, stretching endlessly. The town became a tiny speck amidst the landscape, painted with the same rosy hues as the sky. The deep green, once boldly spread like ink, now shifted into another palette.

 

And the sun was right in front of them.

 

So close—it felt almost within reach.

Ji Yu unconsciously held her breath.

The setting sun dragged its golden halo down into the forest, and the melting clouds became the orchestra to this descent, half-real, half-illusory, like a dream suspended between truth and fantasy.

 

In the shared moment of silence, she turned her head and caught a glimpse of Leng Ying’s expression.

 

The rosy glow was reflected in Leng Ying’s eyes, and in that brief instant, the depths of her dark amber pupils sparkled brilliantly—soul-stirringly beautiful.

 

Such eyes, like shimmering water.

 

Ji Yu found herself at a loss for words. “…So beautiful.”

 

Leng Ying smiled gently, her eyes glimmering like amber. “Nature is always beautiful.”

 

It was a sunset.

 

They had arrived just in time to witness its end.

 

The sun sank slowly, and the brilliance of the sky faded into a dim blue-gray. Tents began to pop up one by one. Their own tent was already set up.

 

This was where they would sleep tonight.

 

Ji Youqin touched her stomach. After all the physical work they had just done, she was hungry. “What’s for dinner?”

 

Ren Meng teased her, “You’re already hungry?”

 

Ji Youqin snorted. “Aren’t you?”

 

Ji Yu was fine. The work hadn’t been all that tiring. Still… she turned to Leng Ying and asked, “Are you hungry?”

 

Before Leng Ying could reply, the production crew arrived, carrying trays of food.

 

They were using the built-in grills and ovens available at the campsite. One look made it obvious that tonight’s late-night snack would be barbecue.

 

There were slight differences compared to the first day: this time, the grill used low flames, and the surrounding setup was more enclosed and compact.

 

Director Pan explained, “Tonight marks the final evening of our first-half recording. Just like your arrival day, we’ve prepared a barbecue for you. After dinner, you can rest up. We’ll start filming the sunrise around 4 AM… the production crew will notify everyone in advance.”

 

The seven-day shoot had flown by. The eight of them exchanged glances, all feeling a bit dazed.

 

Ji Yu picked a small grill and pulled it closer to where she and Leng Ying were sitting. The smokeless charcoal used by the crew was very considerate for camping purposes.

 

Leng Ying watched as Ji Yu brought over ingredients and started grilling. Her movements were gentle. She yawned.

 

Ji Yu immediately asked, “Sleepy?”

 

Leng Ying replied, “Not really.”

 

She picked up some chopsticks to help turn over the food on the grill. The sun had set, and the moon rose above them. Stars filled the sky, visible from their high mountain perch.

 

The stars shone like a waterfall, twinkling endlessly in the night.

 

Leng Ying, focusing for a while on the grill, finally looked up at the starry sky, feeling a wave of fatigue.

 

The stars were constant—always there, quietly watching from above.

 

Ji Yu paused, letting the food cool slightly before bringing it to Leng Ying’s lips. Leng Ying opened her mouth and took a bite. The savory flavor burst on her tongue. She reached out to stop Ji Yu from offering more and returned the favor instead, insisting gently, “You eat too.”

 

Ji Yu obeyed and took a bite herself, though she still wanted to feed Leng Ying again. Leng Ying didn’t resist but insisted on taking turns—if she ate once, Ji Yu had to eat the next.

 

Give and take.

 

There wasn’t much to do on the mountain, so they leisurely grilled food for nearly two hours before wrapping up their meal.

 

The stars in the sky twinkled even more brightly.

 

Without realizing it, Ji Yu had fallen asleep, her head resting on Leng Ying’s shoulder.

 

Amid the laughter and chatter around them, Leng Ying turned to glance at her. Ji Yu’s golden hair partially covered her face, but Leng Ying could see the top of her head and her rounded forehead.

 

Amid the noise, this was the place where everything settled.

 

Leng Ying gently reached out and brushed aside a lock of hair. The earring she had given Ji Yu was still in her ear.

 

…Ji Yu hadn’t taken it off.

 

Not once, since Leng Ying had gifted it to her.

 

Leng Ying only just now realized this and pressed her lips together softly.

 

Was it really… that meaningful?

 

…Was it that important?

 

Looks like she needed to give Ji Yu more earrings. While Ji Yu looked good in anything, a few more styles would make it easier to match outfits.

 

Still…

 

A trace of melancholy rose within her.

 

The key wasn’t the earring.

 

…It was: what kind of relationship did she really want with Ji Yu?

 

To be honest, Leng Ying found friendship ideal—it avoided the complications of romance. But with Ji Yu, the boundaries were becoming increasingly blurred.

 

Ever since Ji Yu returned to China, the line between them had started to dissolve.

 

How long could the barrier of “just friends” really hold?

 

The sturdy walls she’d once built—after years of erosion—were now fragile and close to crumbling.

 

Leng Ying let out a soft sigh. She knelt down and doodled on today’s friendship card, then tucked it into Ji Yu’s pocket.

 

Her movements were light, but Ji Yu stirred awake.

 

—She hadn’t been sleeping deeply anyway.

 

She simply enjoyed the feeling of Leng Ying’s gaze resting on her.

 

If possible, Ji Yu wished these moments could last forever—a hundred years wouldn’t be enough. A thousand, ten thousand still wouldn’t satisfy.

 

Just after Leng Ying slipped the friendship card into her pocket, Ji Yu opened her eyes, pulled the card out, and grinned sleepily. “I haven’t written mine yet today.”

 

Leng Ying’s heart skipped a beat, then settled. She smiled slightly. “Write it.”

 

Ji Yu took a pen from her and began scribbling on the blank card.

 

She drew two little stick figures leaning on each other, facing away from the viewer. Above them, she added a few stars.

 

Finished, she handed the card to Leng Ying, completing the day’s handover ceremony.

 

The mountain breeze blew gently. Everyone was growing sleepy. One by one, they crawled into tents and sleeping bags.

 

Leng Ying borrowed an old-fashioned alarm clock from the staff and set it for 3:50 AM.

 

Ji Yu saw her finish and said, “Then I won’t set mine~”

 

Leng Ying smiled. “The crew will wake us too.”

 

But she was used to keeping her own time. It gave her a sense of control.

 

Ji Yu nodded, “I’ll just follow your alarm~”

 

Leng Ying chuckled and patted her gently. “Sleep.”

 

…

 

3:50 AM – The Mountain Forest

 

Everything was still.

 

The alarm sounded loud and jarring.

 

In the city, that sound would’ve been drowned out—but here, it rang out crystal clear.

 

After four or five seconds, Leng Ying woke and turned it off.

 

She was awake.

 

Ji Yu wriggled for a moment, then sat up.

 

She blinked and looked at Leng Ying. “It’s still dark outside.”

 

Leng Ying replied, “Mm, but it’ll suddenly get bright any moment.”

 

Ji Yu understood. She unzipped the tent and stepped outside. The chairs from last night were still there. Ji Yu lounged in one and waved enthusiastically to Leng Ying, who was emerging from the tent.

 

Leng Ying quickened her pace and lay down in the chair beside her, side by side.

 

Ji Yu pointed at the sky. “The stars are gone.”

 

“They’re still there,” Leng Ying said. “We just can’t see them right now.”

 

Ji Yu thought for a moment and said, “Sometimes I wish I were a star.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because stars don’t have to think about anything,” Ji Yu said. “They just hang up there. Whether someone sees them or not is up to the viewer—not the star.”

 

Leng Ying chuckled softly. “But I still want to eat your sunflower seeds.”

 

“…Well, there goes my moody moment.” Ji Yu perked right back up. “Oh right! Sunflower seeds—I’m a sunflower~~”

 

She hummed a little tune, making up a melody on the spot.

 

Leng Ying was tempted to bring out her sleeping bag.

 

Lying on a recliner inside a sleeping bag… it’d be just like sleeping in a warm blanket!

 

But that would be a little too obvious. After thinking it over, she gave up.

 

…Not everything in life goes the way we want.

 

While they chatted, the other cast members woke up one after another, stirred by the alarm. They emerged from their tents and flopped down into recliners, each one snugly settled.

 

Ji Youqin lingered in bed for a bit and was dragged out by Luo Qing.

 

She missed 4 AM—but it wasn’t a big deal. The sky was still dark gray.

 

“It’s still night!” Ji Youqin grumbled.

 

Luo Qing stopped her from going back into the tent. “Sunrise happens in an instant.”

 

“Really?” Ji Youqin looked around and, seeing everyone else nod, collapsed into a chair. “Tired.”

 

“Bad morning!” Sanma (the sardine) greeted her.

 

Ji Youqin responded weakly, “Bad.”

 

Sunrise truly did happen in an instant.

 

Leng Ying was no longer listening to them talk—

 

She had been stealing glances at Ji Yu with the excuse of peripheral vision, admiring the glint of morning light in Ji Yu’s hair.

 

Then suddenly—

 

A soft glow bloomed between the mountains and trees.

 

A vibrant, rising orange.

 

In just a moment—a blink—the sun’s tip peeked out.

 

Along with it came crisp air and a gentle breeze.

 

The sun had begun its duty for the day.

 

The guests were invited to witness a sunrise—a rebirth in the forest.

 

To make whispering easier, Ji Yu had already shifted her recliner to be right next to Leng Ying’s.

 

Now, their chairs had no gap between them, pushed together completely.

 

While Leng Ying watched the sunrise through the trees, Ji Yu was watching her.

 

The golden light suffused every particle in the air. And what was rising wasn’t just the sun—but also the long-suppressed love hidden deep in someone’s heart, quietly growing stronger and stronger.

 

Ji Yu brushed against Leng Ying’s hand, and Leng Ying took it, holding it tight.

 

“…Don’t want to take a photo?” Leng Ying asked before Ji Yu could even speak, turning her head with a smile. Her eyes shimmered again, softening all her usual coolness.

 

The other guests were also talking about taking photos. The crew gathered them for a group picture, then handed out cameras so they could take personal shots.

 

Admiring her photo, Ren Meng said proudly, “Not bad! If I quit the industry, I could still make a living with my photography. Not bad at all.”

 

Hearing this, Leng Ying asked, “Are you going back to your agent?”

 

Ji Yu turned her gaze toward her too.

 

Ren Meng shook her head.