Provoking Fire [Entertainment Circle] - Chapter 22

The island wind had suddenly intensified, swirling around them in gusts that carried the irritating scent of rain.

The Director had checked the weather forecast before sending them to this smaller island, but he hadn’t anticipated such a rapid change. The forecast proved far less accurate than expected.

Rainbow Valley, marked on the map, now lay before them, living up to its name with exquisite beauty. Lush greenery stretched as far as the eye could see, its emerald hues flowing across the landscape like liquid jade. The lawn extended into the valley, where natural banyan tree caves, their aerial roots entwined, dotted the landscape. Vast fields of wisteria and Autumn Moon Sunflowers bloomed in the valley, their serene elegance undisturbed by the gathering storm.

Yet at this moment, no one had the mind to appreciate the natural splendor.

Thunder rumbled across the sky. Though they were sheltered in the valley, they could almost hear the distant crash of waves against the coastal reefs. The sky darkened abruptly, leaving them barely time to react as the temperature began to plummet.

As the wind intensified, Su Yan began to feel the chill through her clothes. Large raindrops began to pelt down, and her earlier ease vanished, replaced by a solemn expression. She grabbed Chu Xiyue’s hand and pulled her toward the distant mountains.

“Thunder and lightning,” Su Yan warned, “we shouldn’t stand under trees.”

As she spoke, Su Yan scanned their surroundings, picking up a fallen branch to use as a walking stick.

Vast, dark clouds surged across the sky, driven by the howling wind. The valley echoed with thunder as the downpour began almost instantly, sounding like a thousand horses galloping. The two quickly donned raincoats, but the gale tore off their hoods. Su Yan stubbornly held onto Chu Xiyue, insisting they find a cave to shelter from the rain and lightning. Seeing her determined expression, Chu Xiyue didn’t resist, simply tightening her grip on Su Yan’s hand.

Chu Xiyue had climbed mountains before and often hiked in valleys during her free time, enjoying the tranquility of nature far from the city’s bustle. But she had never experienced such severe weather conditions.

From elementary school onward, schools distributed emergency manuals for weather disasters. Anyone with even a basic understanding knew how dangerous mountain valleys could be during torrential rain.

And this was worse—a triple threat of coastal location, mountain valley terrain, and torrential downpour, stacking debuffs to the max.

Chu Xiyue was drenched by the rain, barely able to keep her eyes open. Her windbreaker was nearly useless, serving only as a superficial layer of protection. Hearing the thunderous roar of thunder, she quickened her pace until Su Yan ahead exclaimed with a hint of joy:

“Found it! There’s a cave up ahead!”

As soon as the words left her lips, Su Yan told Chu Xiyue to step back. She picked up a rock and tossed it into the cave, the crisp echo of the impact reverberating through the air. After a moment’s pause, Chu Xiyue switched on her flashlight and swept the beam across the interior, confirming that no people or animals were inside. Only then did she carefully climb up the rocky slope.

Sheltered from the torrential rain, they could finally catch their breath.

Fortunately, the cave was spacious enough to accommodate four or five people. Chu Xiyue collapsed onto the ground, too exhausted to care about the dirt. She shook her hands, pulled out a wet wipe from her bag, and wiped her face haphazardly before reaching for her phone to contact the Director.

To her dismay, the phone showed no signal.

Chu Xiyue’s heart sank. Could I really be this unlucky? she thought. As it turned out, she was. She tried making a call, but it wouldn’t go through. The mountain signal was already weak, and the thunderstorm only made it worse.

After three failed attempts, Chu Xiyue gave up and turned to Su Yan, who was wiping down and organizing their gear. She remembered that they had been switching the camera between them to vary the angles, and it had been in Su Yan’s hands right before the rain started.

Su Yan looked up, and their eyes met. In that instant, Su Yan realized something was wrong. She felt around beside her, and her expression changed.

Chu Xiyue noticed Su Yan’s reaction and immediately guessed what had happened, but she still asked for confirmation:

“Lost it?”

Su Yan nodded, her usually composed face tinged with self-reproach. She bit her lip slightly, a sign of her anxiety.

Chu Xiyue glanced at the increasingly heavy rain outside. Even the ivy clinging to the thick tree branches was being beaten down, unable to stand upright. She sighed inwardly but didn’t get angry. Instead, she raised her voice to reassure Su Yan:

“It’s okay. Mountain rain comes and goes quickly. Let’s just rest here for a while.”

The sudden downpour caught the production team off guard. After waiting two minutes without any sign of the rain stopping, panic began to set in.

The weather forecast had predicted clear skies for the next few days, and the team had confirmed this before making their arrangements. Now, the soaring viewership ratings felt like a double-edged sword, adding to their anxiety and unease.

Fortunately, they managed to contact Yao Tian and Lu Rujin. Their group happened to be near a traditional Chinese-style house, where they immediately took shelter from the rain. They called the production team to report their safety just before the thunderous storm arrived. A few minutes later, Meng Qin and Zhao Fei also made contact, though the signal was intermittent. At least they were safe.

The remaining group was Su Yan and Chu Xiyue. They had ventured the farthest and remained out of contact. Viewers watching the live stream suddenly saw the camera fall, its view getting stuck in a mountain hollow, never moving again.

By then, anxious fans were flooding the production team’s social media with private messages, demanding they immediately search for the missing guests and ensure their safety.

The production team wanted to help, but the storm had whipped up towering waves that threatened to swallow anyone whole. Even with the best intentions, they were powerless to launch a search. Fortunately, they had stationed staff on the island. Instead of panicking, the team contacted the island’s rescue team.

Rainbow Valley was, in reality, a picturesque mountain valley, secluded and tranquil. After rain, rainbows would arch across the sky like bridges, their reflections shimmering in the water below. The area was crisscrossed by a dense network of streams and rivers, their currents swift and strong. While light rain usually didn’t detract from the scenic beauty, the occasional thunderstorms that swept through the valley posed hidden dangers at every turn.

The recording camera was satellite-linked, theoretically ensuring uninterrupted footage. Now that it was lost, their only hope lay in the Production Team noticing something amiss and finding them.

Chu Xiyue, feeling uncomfortably damp, decided to move deeper into the valley to wring out her shoes and socks. But as she shifted her position, her sharp eyes caught movement among the scattered rocks. The rain-darkened sky forced her to squint, straining to see in the dim light. Her flashlight was outside, but even with the faint illumination, she thought she saw something jet-black writhing within the crevices.

Su Yan, though preoccupied with wiping herself dry with tissues, had been keeping an eye on the surroundings. Noticing Chu Xiyue’s alarmed expression, she immediately rose and shone her flashlight into the rocky crevice. There, in the beam of light, stood a scorpion, its entire body pitch-black, its tail arched menacingly, its oily, pointed stinger gleaming ominously in the darkness.

Despite her boldness, Chu Xiyue was still a child raised in comfort. The sight of a potentially venomous wild scorpion made her pale, though she didn’t turn and flee. Her fingertips trembled uncontrollably as she warned Su Yan.

Unnoticed, Su Yan had already picked up a stone and was advancing step by step into the shadows.

“Move aside!”

The woman’s voice carried an unyielding sharpness. Since they’d met, Chu Xiyue had never heard Su Yan speak to her with such authority. Instinctively, she obeyed and retreated. In the next moment, the scorpion, sensing the disturbance, emerged from its hiding place between the rocks, its oily, venomous stinger swaying as it scuttled forward. Su Yan bent down and smashed the stone in her hand down with brutal force.

A resounding thud echoed through the damp corner. Not satisfied, she struck again. The sound sent shivers down Chu Xiyue’s spine. Staring into the dark, humid corner, she imagined countless scorpions and venomous insects lurking within. She backed away, but her instincts wouldn’t allow the scorpion to remain hidden and dangerous. She switched her flashlight to its brightest setting and swept the beam across the area, illuminating every crevice.

“Ahead, Su Yan! Ahead!”

As the scorpion scurried through a crack in the rocks, Chu Xiyue’s sharp eyes spotted it. She quickly shouted a warning to Su Yan, her gaze fixed on the creature, too afraid to move.

The scorpion had just been struck by Su Yan but wasn’t dead yet. Some of these insects carry potent venom, and in the wilderness, without medical care, a sting could have severe consequences. Even a small poisonous creature clings fiercely to life, struggling to survive. Su Yan, with lightning reflexes, delivered another blow, crushing the scorpion into a mangled mess.

Su Yan, however, took a step back, letting out a soft, muffled groan.

“Are you alright?!”

Though she tried to keep her voice down, Chu Xiyue heard her clearly. She immediately crouched down to check for injuries. Finding no visible wounds, she breathed a sigh of relief. Only then did she notice Su Yan leaning against the cave wall, taking a deep breath and explaining through gritted teeth:

“It’s nothing serious. I just twisted my ankle.”

A twisted ankle would likely heal in a few days—a far smaller price to pay than a venomous scorpion sting. In her early years as a background actor, Su Yan had faced far worse conditions while running around film sets. To her, this was just a minor inconvenience.

Just as Su Yan was about to say she could stretch her leg a bit and be fine, she saw Chu Xiyue slowly kneel down on one knee. Chu Xiyue didn’t seem to mind the cold, hard ground digging into her knee, nor did she flinch at the scorpion’s corpse lying inches away.

Chu Xiyue’s voice, rarely tinged with such serious authority, rang out:

“Sit down and take off your shoes.”

This was the same Miss who had just moments ago couldn’t hide her fear and disgust at the sight of a single scorpion, and who had previously seemed to be subtly competing with Su Yan. Yet in this moment, she radiated an undeniable sense of reliability.

The two had been walking in the rain, their shoes and socks quickly soaked through and filled with mud and sand. Even though the Beauty’s ankles and toes were naturally fair and delicate, they certainly wouldn’t look elegant in their current state.

Despite her earlier display of Miss-like temperament, Chu Xiyue showed no hint of disdain. Instead, she skillfully used a wet wipe to thoroughly clean Su Yan’s foot from ankle to sole, leaving no trace of dirt. Then, her fingers slowly traced upward from the ankle, applying steady pressure until she located the sprained area. She lifted Su Yan’s foot and gently rested it on her knee.

Taking advantage of her long arms and legs, Chu Xiyue leaned over and easily reached the bag placed nearby. She rummaged through it, retrieving the medications they had prepared before coming to the island. It was thanks to Su Yan’s meticulousness—her habit of carrying various small bottles of medicine wherever she went—that Chu Xiyue actually found the safflower oil. She gently massaged a small amount into Su Yan’s injured ankle, spreading it evenly.

“Hiss!”

Chu Xiyue thought she was being gentle enough, but Su Yan gasped sharply. Her coffee-colored eyes, framed by long, butterfly-like lashes, glanced at her with a hint of reproach. The lashes drooped, as if her emotions had been shattered into fragments.

The aloof, unapproachable aura of this “high mountain flower” always softened when they were alone together. In the past, she had been fastidious and narcissistic, but later, she occasionally showed a surprisingly caring side. Now—

For some reason, Chu Xiyue detected a touch of vulnerability in the woman’s usually formidable face.

Perhaps it was because Su Yan had twisted her ankle while dealing with that scorpion she was too afraid to touch.

At this thought, Chu Xiyue’s heart always softened slightly.

“Su… Sister Yan, please bear with it. They should realize we’re missing and come looking for us soon.”

In fact, the crew members sent by the Director were indeed rushing toward them with the rescue team, urging their horses onward while calling out their names. Chu Xiyue massaged Su Yan’s ankle for a while, then suddenly heard their names faintly. She carefully approached the cave entrance and was immediately drenched by the wind-driven rain.

Fortunately, she spotted the group and quickly waved to them. The men were all young and strong, and one of them, seemingly accustomed to such situations, strode toward Su Yan, who was sitting on the ground resting her injured ankle. The already cramped cave suddenly felt even more crowded.

Chu Xiyue glanced at the man’s burly frame. While his imposing physique did inspire a sense of security, the thought of Su Yan having to ride on his back for the entire journey home made her feel strangely uneasy, a vague discomfort settling in her heart.

Before she could pinpoint the source of her unease, her instincts took over.

“She just twisted her ankle, nothing else. I’ll carry her back.”

Though her voice was clear and melodious, the added emphasis at the end conveyed an unmistakable air of authority.

The burly man from the rescue team glanced back at Chu Xiyue, his eyes widening in surprise. Before he could fully process his astonishment, Chu Xiyue had already crouched down. Su Yan’s long dress, fortunately, didn’t hinder her movements. As she rose, Chu Xiyue effortlessly adjusted the hem of Su Yan’s skirt. The moment the woman leaned onto her back, Chu Xiyue realized Su Yan weighed even less than she had imagined.

Though Su Yan was taller, Chu Xiyue shifted her weight within the cave, securing Su Yan firmly on her back. She carried her with apparent ease, her slightly disheveled hair failing to conceal her radiant beauty. Like a peach blossom stubbornly clinging to its branch after a rainstorm, her allure only intensified.

“Brother, could you please hold the umbrella?” Chu Xiyue called out, noticing the man still frozen in place.

Snapping out of his daze, the man hastily opened a large umbrella and draped a waterproof blanket over both women. He had expected Chu Xiyue to need his assistance descending the slope, but the woman’s seemingly delicate frame proved unexpectedly sturdy.

The rain continued to fall, though the thunder had ceased. A fresh, earthy fragrance permeated the mountain ravine. Su Yan clung to Chu Xiyue’s back, their rain-soaked hair tangling together, blurring the boundaries between them. Even their perfumes mingled in the damp air, creating a fleeting illusion of unity—a beautiful delusion destined to fade.

Her ankle still throbbed faintly, but Su Yan ignored the pain. She recalled her days in that remote mountain village, where the only redeeming feature was the picturesque scenery. In that backward little town, a delicate young girl had appeared, following her around affectionately and calling her “Sister Yan,” a far cry from the difficult woman she had become.

The moment she saw Chu Xiyue again, Su Yan knew the girl had grown up exactly as she had imagined: wild and unrestrained, nurtured by a carefree environment filled with love and confidence. This upbringing allowed her to navigate this complex social circle with the same carefree laughter, anger, and spontaneity.

This is good, Su Yan thought.

Now, years later, the girl no longer recognized her. Remembering the stranger’s gaze from their first meeting, Su Yan felt a sense of relief.

Her life was already mired in darkness. This bright sun might have its flaws, but she couldn’t let her taint it.

She would simply savor these fleeting moments of happiness, like now, when their bodies pressed so close that they could feel each other’s warmth. As the icy rain fell from all directions, Su Yan tightened her arms around Chu Xiyue, pulling her closer. Mistaking this for fear of falling, Chu Xiyue shifted her weight, demonstrating her strength and assuring Su Yan that she could carry her back just as easily as any burly man.

Yet her arms were already tensed to the point of trembling.

What a clumsy girl.

To be honest, Su Yan’s height of 175 cm made her exceptionally tall among women. Years of fitness training had given her a muscular build, so even at her lightest, she weighed over 55 kg. Compared to the rail-thin actresses dominating the entertainment industry, she had a more athletic physique.

Chu Xiyue had never carried anyone for so long. By the end, she was only holding on through sheer willpower. After trekking a full two kilometers to their destination, her arms, back, and legs were numb and aching when she finally set Su Yan down.

Yet her gaze toward Su Yan was filled with a proud, almost boastful look, as if saying, “See? I can do it.”

Upon reaching their temporary shelter, the rescue team immediately arranged for a doctor who had been waiting nearby. The rain had eased slightly, and Chu Xiyue finally managed to connect to Wi-Fi and receive a video call from the Director. On the other end, the Director leaned anxiously into the frame, his heart leaping back into his chest when he saw Chu Xiyue seemed unharmed. He blurted out:

“Yueyue, are you both alright? What about Teacher Su?”

Chu Xiyue answered honestly:

“Teacher Su twisted her ankle and is resting now. Everything else is fine.”

Seeing the Director sigh in relief, she finally dared to turn the live stream camera on to reassure the waiting fans. Her face was plastered with an apologetic smile as she repeatedly apologized and subtly hinted for Chu Xiyue to say a few words. Someone even held up a cue card behind her.

Chu Xiyue nodded.

“Well, at least no one died out there. The safety measures were indeed quite thorough and effective.”

The Production Team: “……”

At that moment, Chu Xiyue’s appearance was far from flattering. Her long, jet-black hair, soaked by the rain, hung messily over her shoulders, with a few strands clinging to her pale face. Though she was draped in towels and spoke calmly without losing her temper, anyone who knew her would recognize that her mood was anything but good.

The more she acted nonchalant, the more it hinted at the brewing storm beneath the surface.

Su Yanwei’s hardcore fans disliked Chu Xiyue, but their concern for their idol outweighed their animosity. Knowing that Chu Xiyue had brought Su Yanwei back safely, they felt a grudging gratitude. Hearing Chu Xiyue’s words now only fueled their outrage against the Production Team, their protests growing even louder and more vehement.

The production team was also on edge, knowing that weather conditions were unpredictable. However, Chu Xiyue’s words made them feel guilty, as if they had overlooked something. At the time, they had only checked for dangerous animals in the area. Assuming that two adults wouldn’t easily stumble or get hurt, they had confidently let the women proceed.

Ultimately, the production team acknowledged their undeniable responsibility for the artist’s injury. After assuring fans that Su Yan was safe, they temporarily cut the live stream.

The hashtags #HeartbeatAcceleration3 and #SuYanAndChuXiyueLostContactInTheRain remained trending high. The production team immediately issued an explanation, bracing themselves for criticism. Eventually, the fans’ anger subsided.

Chu Xiyue received a message from her manager. To reassure Sister Yao, she sent a short video showing herself full of energy, proving she wouldn’t be easily knocked down by a little rain. Afterward, she went to check on Su Yan.

After knocking, Chu Xiyue heard a faint, clear voice say, “Come in.”

She pushed open the door and saw Su Yan sitting on the bed, already changed into fresh clothes. Her ankle had been given a simple ice pack treatment, and she was covered with a blanket. Her long hair, washed and nearly dry, cascaded loosely over her shoulders. A half-empty glass of water sat on the bedside table, its lingering moisture giving her lips a faint, rosy tint.

In contrast, Chu Xiyue looked considerably more disheveled.

Su Yan glanced at her and, seeing her state, asked, “Aren’t you going to freshen up before coming over?”

Since arriving, Chu Xiyue had been busy contacting various people, barely taking time to towel her hair. Hearing Su Yan’s words, her delicate eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Do you find me repulsive?”

Su Yan’s gaze swept over her briefly before she looked down, idly playing with her fingers. Her voice, soft and meaningful, drifted through the air. “Not repulsive. But if Miss Chu finds this state acceptable…”

Chu Xiyue had dressed for the day’s sea outing in a sports tank top, red-and-black athletic leggings, and a sun-protective jacket. Now, the damp, clingy fabric clung to her body, accentuating her slender figure. Water dripped from her still-wet hair, the crystalline droplets tracing the curve of her neck before disappearing into deeper contours.

Chu Xiyue walked in, draped in a bath towel, but a closer look still revealed her disheveled state.

The damp chill outside had been sealed off, and the air conditioning had long since warmed the room, circulating a soothing warmth. Chu Xiyue glanced down at her attire, then at Su Yan. Her fair earlobes gradually flushed pink, but she stubbornly refused to acknowledge it in front of Su Yan, gruffly retorting:

“You’re such a straight girl, yet you talk so much!”

Su Yan’s lips curved into a faint smile.

Leaning against the headboard with languid grace, her long hair cascaded down in loose waves. Her striking features exuded an air of noble detachment, while her skin was remarkably pale—even the small patch of skin at her elbow was a healthy, rosy pink. Lying on her side, the blanket loosely covered only her legs, leaving a glimpse of the small of her back beneath the loose shirt. The subtle curve, barely visible, stirred an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch it.

Chu Xiyue mentally repeated “It’s just a straight girl’s tricks” several times. Yet under Su Yan’s composed gaze, she couldn’t resist. She asked a staff member for a set of clean, new clothes and hurried to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Only after emerging did she feel truly alive again.

The staff had prepared clothes in one-size-fits-all, which were even loose and casual on Chu Xiyue’s slender frame. However, the white shirt was a bit short, subtly revealing a sliver of her toned waistline.

The temporary lodging was small, and Su Yan’s room happened to be the only one with a bathroom. Chu Xiyue had just finished showering, a towel draped over her shoulders as she haphazardly dried herself. Her hair stood on end like a lion’s mane as she walked to the table, grabbed an unopened bottle of mineral water, and drank deeply.

After the shower, she felt as if she’d washed off at least a kilogram of mud and grime, leaving her feeling lighter. Only then did she belatedly realize how utterly exhausted she was. She felt utterly listless, wanting nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep.

As Chu Xiyue emerged, Su Yan reached for the bedside table. Seeing how easily she moved with her long arms and legs, Chu Xiyue didn’t stop her, not expecting the woman to retrieve a hairdryer.

Once Chu Xiyue finished drinking, she beckoned Su Yan over with a flick of her hand.

“Come sit by the bed.”

Chu Xiyue had initially intended to firmly refuse.

But the warm air blowing over her head was too comforting, especially when Su Yan massaged her scalp with those soft fingertips—it felt even better than the usual cushion brush. Sitting on the bed, freely stretching her slightly sore legs, Chu Xiyue could confidently entrust the hair-drying task to someone else.

Su Yan’s movements were gentle, with no tugging on her scalp. Instead, a soothing, tingling sensation spread from the crown of her head down to her ears, accompanied by the woman’s cool, elegant perfume.

The initial minty coolness gradually faded into a delicate camellia fragrance, its subtle notes drifting from Su Yan’s fingertips to Chu Xiyue’s nose. As Chu Xiyue unconsciously relaxed, the two settled into a semi-embracing position, a detail Chu Xiyue barely noticed.

The moment was interrupted by a knock at the door. A staff member entered with two steaming bowls of ginger tea, pausing slightly when they saw Chu Xiyue sitting on Su Yan’s bed, the hairdryer buzzing loudly.

The ends of Chu Xiyue’s hair were the most stubborn to dry. Su Yan’s slender fingers wove through the strands, gently curling the tips to feel the airflow, her expression as focused as when she studied a script.

The young assistant who brought in the supplies had only recently graduated from university. Her ears flushed slightly at the sight before her, and she raised her voice to be heard over the hairdryer’s hum:

“Teacher Su, Teacher Chu, please drink the ginger tea while it’s hot. Be careful not to catch a cold.”

With that, the assistant hurried away, remembering to close the door behind her. She paused to remind the staff to avoid disturbing them, lest any clueless male crew members barge in.

Soon, the damp ends of Chu Xiyue’s hair were finally dry. Satisfied, she put away the hairdryer and picked up the ginger tea. The two women took a sip together, but Chu Xiyue immediately choked and coughed.

The ginger tea had been prepared by simply dissolving the powder, preserving its full, pungent spiciness. While this might work well as a seasoning to mask fishy flavors in cooking, it was a disaster for Chu Xiyue, who loathed the taste of ginger.

In comparison, she couldn’t help but long for Su Yan’s bowl of red bean and barley porridge.

Seeing Chu Xiyue’s beautiful features twist into a grimace, Su Yan went to find a staff member. The person who had prepared the ginger tea looked equally helpless.

“No one expected this rain. We have extra Ginger Tea, but we’re out of sugar, Teacher Su,” he said, gesturing toward the neighboring residence. “The residents probably have some, but they’re notoriously stubborn.”

The Director had instructed the staff to accommodate the two women’s requests as much as possible, given that the Production Team was at fault. They wanted to soothe their tempers and make amends. The Ginger Tea was indeed too strong. Chu Xiyue’s assistant had mentioned her fondness for sweets, so they’d tried adding brown sugar, only to be rebuffed.

Su Yan’s aloofness was legendary in the industry. The staff member had assumed she was just asking casually, but after hearing the explanation, she immediately opened her umbrella and stepped back into the rain, heading toward the neighboring residence.

The door was answered by an elderly woman in her seventies, her white hair neatly styled and her glasses glinting coldly. The knock had clearly irritated her, her brow furrowed in annoyance. But when her gaze fell upon Su Yan’s expression of suppressed discomfort, her expression softened slightly.

A minute later, Su Yan returned with a small packet of brown sugar, thanking the old woman. Under the staff’s astonished gazes, she reworked the still-warm Ginger Tea for Chu Xiyue, making it much smoother and more palatable.

Just as the rain outside began to subside, the island, now completely free of rain, revealed its sun-drenched beauty.

When the two returned to Heart Island, the production crew greeted them with radiant smiles, offering profuse apologies and reassurances. The other guests also gathered around, expressing their concern. Seeing Su Yan’s injured ankle, Meng Qin, who had been trying to maintain her composure, finally couldn’t hold back her worry. She repeatedly glanced at Su Yan’s ankle before finally speaking, her voice strained:

“Teacher Su…”

Before she could finish, Chu Xiyue suddenly seemed to remember something. In front of everyone, she swept Su Yan into her arms in a princess carry, cradling her tightly as if afraid someone might steal her away.

Even for a tall, slender adult woman like Su Yan, the pose felt surprisingly natural in Chu Xiyue’s embrace. Having learned from experience, Chu Xiyue held her securely this time, her peach blossom eyes still smiling, radiant and dazzling even without makeup.

“Teacher Su twisted her ankle and needs to rest for now,” Chu Xiyue announced. “We’ll head back to our room to rest.” She turned to the director, her tone like that of an obedient student seeking permission. “There won’t be any more filming today, right? It’s already so late.”

The Director nodded repeatedly.

Chu Xiyue also nodded, her expression earnest. “Just asking for permission, of course. We always follow the rules.”

The Director and Guests exchanged awkward glances.

After Chu Xiyue carried Su Yan back to their cabin, Yao Tian was the first to break the tense silence. She suggested a game of Guandan, pointing out it was only 10 PM and no one was quite ready for bed.

Zhao Fei’s long lashes drooped, casting faint shadows beneath his eyes in the lamplight. Though not fully immersed in the entertainment industry, he was undeniably a rare beauty, radiating a gentle, scholarly aura—refined and elegant, like a figure from a classical painting in the Jiangnan water towns. His temperament was equally gentle and patient.

Yet today, despite Yao Tian’s deliberate attempts to smooth things over, Zhao Fei declined to join the group’s activities for the first time. Even off-camera, a faint smile remained on his face.

“I’m a bit tired. See you tomorrow. I’d like to rest tonight.”

With that, he left, leaving the others to exchange puzzled looks.

The troubles outside no longer mattered to the two women who had returned to their room.

To reassure her fans, Chu Xiyue posted a Weibo update confirming their safety after escorting Su Yan back to their room. The post quickly garnered numerous replies, mostly from fans offering comfort. After all, they had been exposed to the wind for too long, and Chu Xiyue had a slight headache. She initially planned to post the update and go to sleep, but reconsidered and replied to a few comments to avoid being accused of PR tactics by the show.

Looking back, she felt a bit angry, but she couldn’t entirely blame the production team. After all, the weather was unpredictable; no one could have anticipated the thunderstorm despite the forecast predicting clear skies.

What bothered her most wasn’t her own discomfort, but seeing Su Yan twist her ankle. She felt a pang of guilt, knowing Su Yan had injured herself trying to deal with the scorpion. Apart from that, the production team’s rescue efforts were prompt, and their subsequent handling of the situation was adequate. Chu Xiyue saw no point in dwelling on it.

After all, the incident hadn’t brought filming to a halt. With two days remaining, holding grudges would only make things awkward.

The next day, Su Yan’s ankle was still slightly swollen, and the previous day’s events had left everyone shaken. The production team decided to cancel all activities and let the group return to the villa.

The luxurious mansion was a world apart from the rustic cabins on the island. The refrigerator was fully stocked with drinks—some they had bought themselves, others provided by the Production Team. Judging by this setup, the rest of the filming would likely take place indoors.

As expected, today’s task was light: playing board games, just enough to create some highlights for the final edit. After all, Su Yan had injured herself during the previous challenge, and whether yesterday’s task had been completed was no longer a concern.

Board games had surged in popularity in recent years. Beyond classics like Truth or Dare, Monopoly, and German Blitz, “scripted murder mysteries” had become particularly trendy. However, three of the six participants were actors who spent over half their year on film sets. Yao Tian groaned at the mere mention of “script,” while Lu Rujin quickly vetoed the idea, her orange-shadowed eye makeup sparkling with lively energy. “Scripted murder mysteries take up an entire afternoon, and there’s so much reading it makes my head spin. Without any acting, they’re just boring.”

“Let’s play Werewolf instead,” Lu Rujin suggested. “I haven’t played Werewolf in ages!”

Lu Rujin was the youngest among them, and her almost coquettish tone made it difficult to refuse. Everyone knew how to play Werewolf, and the game’s duration was just right. With six players—two werewolves, one villager, and the essential Witch, Seer, and Hunter—they didn’t need to add more people.

Seeing everyone agree to her suggestion, Lu Rujin’s mind sparked with another idea:

“Just playing the game isn’t very fun, is it? Let’s add a twist! Whoever wins the most rounds today gets to make a request of anyone else. As long as it’s not too outrageous, they can’t refuse, okay?”

Chu Xiyue, who was unpacking a brand-new set of Werewolf cards, glanced at Lu Rujin without betraying any emotion.

The bullet screen buzzed with comments:

I used to think Lu Rujin was the most innocent one here, but now she seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Didn’t she used to have that bubbly, sweet idol persona? Well, well, well, our little idol is hiding quite a bit.

This season has fewer people, but not a single one is a pushover. Lu Rujin is stirring the pot, Chu Xiyue and Meng Qinming are the overt and covert damage dealers, Zhao Fei is another wolf in sheep’s clothing, and Yao Tian and Su Yan are just floating around.

Which eye are you using to say Sister Yan is staying out of it? Didn’t you hear the Director say yesterday that Chuchu carried Sister Yan back after she got injured? Stop projecting your own failing CP onto others—their mutual devotion is everything! KSWL!

After getting everyone’s agreement, Lu Rujin, finally getting her wish, rubbed her hands together and started the game.

In Werewolf, the Witch, Seer, and Hunter are indispensable roles. Regardless of any fancy variations that might emerge later, these core characters are almost always included. With only one Villager in this game, the probability of drawing a special role was quite high.

Chu Xiyue drew the Seer role in the first round.

Actors on set don’t have lines to rehearse every moment. During occasional downtime, when they didn’t feel like studying scripts, they’d organize small team-building activities. Werewolf was a popular choice, a quick icebreaker. Chu Xiyue had been playing since her school days and was quite confident in her skills, determined to win.

But in the first round, Su Yan immediately claimed the Seer role, her aggressive bluff flawless. If Chu Xiyue hadn’t been absolutely certain she held the Seer card, she might have doubted herself for a moment.

Lu Rujin, as the Witch, was elected Sheriff. After agonizing between the two claimants, she sided with Su Yan and eliminated Chu Xiyue, leading to a complete defeat.

Chu Xiyue was furious:

“Lu Rujin, do you even know how to play?!”

Lu Rujin whimpered, feeling wronged:

“Sister Chuchu, both of you sounded convincing, but Sister Su Yan just radiates righteousness, like a good person.”

Chu Xiyue was rendered speechless by Su Yan’s reasoning.

But in the next round, the tables turned, and Chu Xiyue drew the Hunter card. In this simple six-player game, the two werewolves boldly claimed to be the Hunter, a role that could prove its identity, plunging the game into a fog of uncertainty.

This time, Su Yan appeared to be an innocent villager, but Chu Xiyue had already figured out her strategy. When Chu Xiyue was eliminated, she took this well-hidden deep-water werewolf with her, naturally exposing the other.

In the third round, Chu Xiyue drew a villager card and, by playing the chaos, shielded the hidden Witch from a crucial kill, securing victory for the good guys.

In the fourth round, Chu Xiyue drew a werewolf card. By then, the good guys had learned to conceal their identities, but the werewolves still managed to pinpoint the Witch for a precise kill, leading to the werewolves’ victory.

Before she knew it, Chu Xiyue had become the player with the most wins. She hadn’t even noticed how quickly time had passed, and a smile bloomed on her cheeks.

“I never thought a six-player game of Werewolf could be this much fun!”

It was only when the director reminded her that Chu Xiyue remembered she had a wish-granting opportunity, valid only for that day. Lu Rujin immediately rushed over to discuss it with her.

“Sister Yueyue, I heard Sister Yan has abs. Can you make her show them off?”

Abs?

Chu Xiyue instinctively glanced at Su Yan, her gaze carrying a hint of reproach for revealing this information to Lu Rujin. Su Yan’s expression remained calm, though a faint trace of helplessness lingered in her eyes.

Chu Xiyue quickly realized Lu Rujin must have seen it on the fan forums.

Faced with Lu Rujin’s expectant gaze, Chu Xiyue firmly refused, lifting her chin with haughty pride. “You have no say here, you defeated opponent.”

Lu Rujin could only glare helplessly.

The bullet screen erupted in laughter.

Xiao Chu has been so gentle and reserved lately, has Jinjin forgotten she’s actually got a fiery temper?

Am I the only one curious about what she’s planning? So mysterious!

After that, no matter who tried to bring up the topic, Chu Xiyue showed no intention of using her special privilege. Eventually, everyone gave up, and they lingered in the family-style bar for a while longer before parting ways.

Around ten o’clock that night, after the livestream had ended and the group had dispersed, Chu Xiyue strolled leisurely past the entrance with Su Yan. They bumped into a tall, slender figure standing by the door.

The woman’s deep eyes reflected the star-studded night sky beyond the island, radiating a captivating brilliance. She gazed at Chu Xiyue, her red lips curving into a knowing smile, her voice carrying a hint of seductive allure as she bluntly revealed the newcomer’s lingering purpose:

“Want to see my abs?”

Chu Xiyue stopped in her tracks.