The Cold Queen is My Exclusive Little Snack - Chapter 7

This year’s Mid-Autumn Festival felt no different for Zuo Xingning than usual—except for the company she kept.

Chu Shiyin’s mooncakes, after sitting for a few days, had become oily. Traditional Chinese pastries, inherently rich in sugar and oil, proved cloying after just half a piece. Despite making only a small batch, they spent several days finishing them. Once the mooncakes were gone, it was time to fly to Beicheng to film a variety show.

After finishing her acting class in the afternoon, Zuo Xingning rushed to the airport, only finding time to check Weibo on the way.

Her official Weibo account, created during her freshman year of college, had accumulated tens of thousands of followers over the years through occasional posts of daily life and selfies. However, she had abandoned the account along with her acting career. After a long period of inactivity, many followers had unfollowed, leaving mostly “zombie accounts.” Even after posting a Four-Grid photo set that morning, the likes remained pitifully scarce.

Zuo Xingning sighed, switched to her alternate account to give herself a like, and then habitually visited Chu Shiyin’s newly active Weibo to leave a few comments before putting away her phone and closing her eyes to rest.

Once her fever had completely subsided, Chu Shiyin took her to the hospital. As expected, bl00d tests revealed nothing abnormal. The previous fever was attributed to a weakened immune system, so the next day, when Chu Shiyin went to the gym, she brought a “companion.”

After Yu Siya returned, Zuo Xingning settled into a routine of gym, acting classes, and home—a relentless schedule busier than the village donkey.

Mornings were spent at the gym, afternoons in class, a dual drain on her body and mind that left her collapsing into bed each night, exhausted as a dead dog. Even her time with Chu Shiyin dwindled, reduced to stealing quiet moments late at night to catch the faint scent drifting from the neighboring room.

Leaving the door open while sleeping is truly a civilized custom.

Zuo Xingning opened her eyes and ordered several cans of cat treats online, intending to reward the “great benefactor” who had compelled Chu Shiyin to adopt this habit. Whether the treats would end up gathering dust or being devoured by the little cat was beyond her control.

Didn’t Jiejie mention putting Tuantuan on a diet?

The corners of her lips curved in the rearview mirror, a smile Zuo Xingning herself didn’t notice. Whenever she thought of Chu Shiyin, even amidst memories of grueling workouts, a smile bloomed on her face. The unwavering smile bounced with each step she took, and when she finally saw Chu Shiyin, her eyes overflowed with honeyed affection.

Unfortunately, of the three people present, one was absorbed in work, refusing to spare her a glance; another habitually wore a blank expression, her face hidden beneath a mask and hat, making it impossible for even a celestial being to discern her emotions. Only the assistant, Lizi, cast uncertain glances between the two actresses, again and again.

After boarding the plane, Lizi couldn’t resist nudging Yu Siya’s arm and whispering, “Sister, I remember you saying Xingning lives with Sister Shiyin, right?”

“Yes,” Yu Siya replied, sensing there was more to Lizi’s question. “What’s wrong?”

“Well… isn’t that like inviting a wolf into the house?” Lizi hinted, “Xingning seems really fond of Sister Shiyin.”

“What wolf?” Yu Siya started to ask, but then she noticed Lizi’s hesitant expression and realized what she was implying. “What are you thinking? Zuo Xingning is just a fan of Shiyin’s.”

“Of course I know that,” Lizi blushed, defending herself. “But Sister Siya, haven’t you noticed? The way Xingning looks at Sister Shiyin… it’s like she’s looking at her idol, but there’s something… too affectionate about it.”

Yu Siya scoffed dismissively. “She looks at cats with that same ‘affectionate’ gaze. Enough with the overthinking. They seem to have known each other since childhood. Just keep this to yourself, okay? Don’t spread rumors.”

“Ah, I see—” Lizi nodded thoughtfully, her voice trailing off.

Childhood friends? That’s practically childhood sweethearts! And they were destined to meet! I’m shipping this so hard!

The vampire’s heart was an open secret, except to the vampire herself.

As the plane took off, Chu Shiyin removed her hat and mask. With a graceful twist of her slender wrist, she slid an ebony hairpin into her updo, leaving only a few wisps of hair to brush against her nape. The pastel blue sky and fluffy clouds stretched along her shoulders, framing the window like a canvas. Her profile, framed within the window, resembled a medieval oil painting.

Zuo Xingning wasn’t the only one captivated by the scene, but she was the only one staring blankly, her eyes seemingly glued to the view.

Chu Shiyin noticed her gaze out of the corner of her eye and chuckled inwardly. “What are you looking at? Is there something on my face? Or do you want to switch seats?”

“No, no… I wish I had my camera with me,” Zuo Xingning murmured, her brown eyes reflecting a silhouette against the radiant afterglow of sunset. The golden light haloed her silhouette, seeping from her eyes into her mind, leaving her feeling slightly dizzy, as if she’d drunk a sip of plum wine.

For some time, she had deliberately kept her distance, and it had been a while since she had been this close to Chu Shiyin. In the nearly enclosed space, Chu Shiyin’s fragrance lingered persistently, gradually transforming into the rich aroma of plum wine as she inhaled it.

Then, it shifted to the savory scent of food.

The flight attendant distributing dinner brought their conversation to an abrupt end. Chu Shiyin had little appetite, so the attendant gave her a bread roll and some fruit. Zuo Xingning ordered a black pepper beef noodle soup. After finishing her meal, she noticed Chu Shiyin hadn’t touched the bread roll and took it to fill her own stomach.

The canvas in the photo frame had been replaced with a night scene. No one mentioned their earlier conversation again. Chu Shiyin watched Zuo Xingning devour her food with gusto and suddenly reached out to pinch her arm. Despite her petite frame and a layer of soft flesh, she never appeared chubby. Anything she ate seemed to vanish into a black hole, leaving no trace. Unlike other celebrities who constantly worried about dieting and weight loss, she never had to give it a second thought.

“I wonder where everything you eat goes,” Chu Shiyin murmured, withdrawing her hand with a sigh.

“My stomach? It’s basically a fourth-dimensional pocket,” Zuo Xingning quipped casually. The hunger she’d been suppressing lately was resurfacing with renewed intensity. Biting Chu Shiyin’s neck again was clearly out of the question, so she had to rely on stuffing her stomach to alleviate the gnawing emptiness. Fortunately, her naturally lean physique allowed her to indulge without consequence.

After gulping down a glass of ice water, Zuo Xingning crunched on the ice cubes as she opened her iPad and played a pre-downloaded video. As she watched, she unconsciously leaned closer to Chu Shiyin.

Separated by an armrest, she couldn’t get too close. But whenever she was engrossed in something, she would instinctively gravitate toward Chu Shiyin, like a furry little animal drawn to warmth in winter—endearing rather than annoying.

Chu Shiyin was accustomed to these little gestures. She glanced at the iPad screen and asked, “Watching Escape to Freedom?”

Escape to Freedom was the variety show they were participating in tomorrow. Guests were typically divided into two teams, competing through deduction, puzzle-solving, and other challenges to acquire skills and clues. The ultimate goal was to win or avoid elimination.

Zuo Xingning nodded, her eyes still glued to the screen. She had been catching up on videos for two days, but Escape to Freedom had four-hour-long live streams in addition to the main episodes. She was still a bit behind, but she had gotten a good grasp of the regular cast members’ styles.

“Nervous?” Chu Shiyin, knowing how much research Zuo Xingning had done, assumed she was worried about winning. “No one will give a newcomer a hard time. Just be yourself. Winning or losing isn’t that important.”

“I’m not worried about myself, Jiejie,” Zuo Xingning finally looked up, her gaze earnest. “I want to help you win.”

After two years away—excluding the exclusive awards ceremony earlier this year—tomorrow’s variety show recording would be Chu Shiyin’s first public appearance. No one understood the trials and tribulations of the past two years better than her fans, who had stood by her side through it all. If some wanted to drag her down from her pedestal, they would lift her even higher.

So even for a small variety show, Zuo Xingning wanted to do everything she could to help Chu Shiyin win.

At 8:20 PM, the plane landed at Beicheng Airport. This was a public itinerary, so it was no surprise that hordes of fans would be waiting outside. Chu Shiyin and Zuo Xingning lingered behind, disembarking with the last group of passengers.

Lizi had already gone ahead to retrieve their luggage, while Yu Siya waited for them in the terminal. Before they even stepped out of the exit, Zuo Xingning sensed an unusual tension in the still air, like gunpowder waiting for a spark to ignite.

Chu Shiyin wasn’t just a spark; she was the burning gunpowder itself, a force a thousand times more potent.

All three women understood this perfectly.

“I should have let you go out with Lizi first,” Yu Siya murmured, glancing at Zuo Xingning. “Remember to keep your distance from Shiyin later. Don’t get swept up in the crowd. Find Lizi after you exit and wait for us in the car.”

“Okay,” Zuo Xingning replied. She walked a few meters, rounded a corner, and the volatile atmosphere exploded.

No words were needed. Even a glimpse of Chu Shiyin’s silhouette was enough for the sharp-eyed fans to recognize her. Their screams crescendoed, but she silenced them with a swift gesture, ending the uproar in an instant. The next moment, the fans outside the exit raised their banners in unison.

Low calls and barely suppressed sobs of excitement carried on the wind, as the fans fearlessly unleashed their love, coalescing into a tidal wave that surged forward, wave after wave, until it engulfed everything in its turbulent embrace.

No one could question such raw, vivid affection, not even Chu Shiyin at the vortex’s center.

Standing at the exit, she bowed deeply to her fans before security could escort her away.

No one knew why she had suddenly vanished for two years—a period that had felt like two centuries to the “Second Hand” fans. But they had endured.

Zuo Xingning watched Chu Shiyin’s spine curve and straighten again. Her gaze drifted to the faces of the fans who had come to welcome her. Suddenly, she understood why everyone who had met Chu Shiyin in person insisted that seeing her live was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Emotions conveyed through screens always felt distorted, leaving room for doubt about exaggeration. Only in reality, face-to-face, could one fully and accurately receive every signal, realizing that their love had never been a one-sided self-indulgence.

As the crowd surged, Zuo Xingning unconsciously drifted to the back.

Few noticed her, and she remained unaware that a telephoto lens had framed her in its shot.