Chapter 14
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Chapter 14: Temptation
Yu Cai abruptly stopped mid-sentence. She went silent. Yu Bai pulled the phone slightly away to glance at the screen—still connected. She called out, “Yu Cai?”
“Yeah, sis.” Yu Cai sounded distracted. She rubbed her eyes. The person who had just been standing outside Man Tong had vanished. Had she been seeing things? Or… was that really Jiang Liuyi?
She asked uncertainly, “Sis, I remember your—” She clenched her teeth, correcting herself, “Wasn’t Jiang Liuyi not taking interviews?”
Yu Bai didn’t know why she was suddenly bringing up Jiang Liuyi, but she nodded. “Yeah. Qiushui said she’s got some lingering issues from the past, so she doesn’t do interviews.”
So she had seen wrong.
Yu Cai frowned, feeling ridiculous for scaring herself. And even if Jiang Liuyi were giving interviews, it would’ve been with her, not Man Tong. She was Yu Bai’s sister—there was no reason Jiang Liuyi would go to them.
Her heartbeat slowed. Yu Bai asked, “What’s going on?”
Yu Cai said, “Nothing, I just mistook someone for her.”
Yu Bai’s brows furrowed. “Mistook who?”
“By the photography studio—I thought I saw Jiang Liuyi,” Yu Cai said.
Yu Bai’s heart gave a sudden lurch. She instinctively turned to look at Lin Qiushui, who had just finished messaging Jiang Liuyi. Covering the phone’s receiver with her hand, she asked, “Qiushui, did you just talk to Liuyi?”
Lin Qiushui looked up and considered for a second. “Yeah.”
Yu Bai asked, “Where is she?”
Lin Qiushui had meant to say “with her wife,” but remembering Yu Bai’s temper—how she’d cry again—she decided against it. Instead, she replied casually, “At home, practicing piano. Where else would she be?”
Yu Bai inexplicably felt a wave of relief. On the other end of the line, Yu Cai laughed at herself, realizing how absurd she’d been. Just nerves, making a rookie mistake like that.
She said, “Anyway, sis, don’t forget what you promised me. I’ve got to get back to work.”
Yu Bai replied, “I know.”
Still uneasy, Yu Cai added, “Don’t be so stubborn. Don’t cling to your pride. Hasn’t Jiang Liuyi stayed single all these years just waiting for you? Be softer. Win her back.”
Yu Bai fell silent. If it were the Jiang Liuyi of the past, she’d still feel confident about coaxing her back. But this time, she didn’t know why—it felt like Jiang Liuyi was slipping away from her, bit by bit.
That feeling of not being able to hold on… it was the first time she’d ever felt it with Jiang Liuyi.
The person who had once loved her so deeply.
Yu Bai lowered her head and gripped her phone tightly. After a long pause, she finally said, “Mm.”
So what if she was losing her bit by bit? If that was the case, she’d just win her back bit by bit.
She set the phone down. Lin Qiushui asked, “Yu Cai?”
Yu Bai nodded. “Yeah, it was Xiaocai.”
Lin Qiushui said, “She was pestering me not long ago—insisting on interviewing Liuyi.”
“She mentioned it to me too,” Yu Bai replied. “But we both know Liuyi doesn’t do interviews.”
Lin Qiushui turned toward her. “Well… not necessarily.”
Yu Bai looked at her. Lin Qiushui spread her hands. “It’s been so long. Things change. Who knows—maybe she’s willing now? Why don’t you ask Yu Cai to reach out again?”
She’d meant to indirectly let Yu Bai know that Jiang Liuyi was accepting interviews now. But the moment Yu Bai heard those words, her face went pale, eyes rimmed red.
Things change over time. That single sentence cut like a blade. The pain was sharp and hard to bear.
Lin Qiushui reached out and patted her. “Yu Bai?”
Yu Bai looked up. Tears clung to her lashes, clear and crystalline. Just like before—when she cried, she was still that heartbreakingly lovely little princess. Lin Qiushui’s voice softened. “Why are you crying again?”
“I’m fine.” Yu Bai took a deep breath. “Qiushui, do you all think… all of this is my fault?”
Lin Qiushui looked at her, hesitating, the words on the tip of her tongue.
Yu Bai said, “I know you all blame me. Liuyi blames me too. Back then, I was the one in the wrong. All I cared about was my art. Before I left, Liuyi said she didn’t want to break up—that she would wait for me.”
Her voice caught. “She lied.”
Qiushui couldn’t hold back any longer. “Yu Bai, these past few years haven’t been easy for Liuyi either. After you left, her insomnia got really bad. She had to take medication just to sleep. Later, she threw herself into practice like mad—locked herself in the piano room all day, every day.”
When Yu Bai left, Jiang Liuyi hadn’t yet achieved her current fame. She was just emerging, a rising star on the horizon. Back then, Qiushui had truly feared the blow might break her completely—that she’d never recover. But Jiang Liuyi bounced back faster than expected. During the stomach ulcer incident, she even called Yu Bai, hoping she’d come back. Even if they couldn’t be together, just one meeting would have been enough.
But Yu Bai turned her down.
Qiushui remembered turning around and seeing Jiang Liuyi standing behind her. After that, she never brought up Yu Bai again.
Sometimes, Qiushui would ask her, “Do you hate Yu Bai?”
Jiang Liuyi would answer, “What good would that do?”
She once asked, “Do you hope she comes back?”
That time, Jiang Liuyi just stared straight ahead, silent.
The first time she met Song Xian, her reaction had been instinctive: “She’s kind of like Yu Bai.”
Jiang Liuyi had only glanced at her—no denial. Later, Song Xian told her that during their first meeting, Jiang Liuyi had called her by that name too.
That was the moment Lin Qiushui realized: Jiang Liuyi still hadn’t let Yu Bai go.
Yu Bai’s eyes were rimmed bright red, tears trembling at the corners. She lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Qiushui. I’m sorry, I…”
Lin Qiushui said gently, “Yu Bai, I don’t know who was right or wrong between the two of you. All I know is—Liuyi still hasn’t moved on. You’re both still young, there’s still time to make it right. So…”
Yu Bai clenched her teeth and nodded. “I know. I know.”
Seeing her like this, Lin Qiushui’s heart softened. She turned to look out the window. Sunlight flickered into the office through the fine gaps between leaves—dancing, shimmering.
At that very moment, Jiang Liuyi stood by a window elsewhere. She blinked back into awareness as He Xiaoying quietly asked beside her, “Miss Jiang, do you think these questions are okay?”
She smiled. “No need to call me Miss Jiang. Since you’re a colleague of Song Xian’s, just call me by my name.”
“No way!” In the office, calling her by name was one thing—but face to face, it didn’t feel respectful. He Xiaoying said, “Then how about I call you Teacher Jiang?”
Jiang Liuyi gave in. “Alright.”
He Xiaoying beamed. “Great, then Teacher Jiang, let’s begin the interview.”
Song Xian stood to the side, adjusting her camera. Through the lens, she looked at Jiang Liuyi—dressed in an ivory skirt that fell below the knee, her long hair loosely pinned up, bangs gently veiling her smooth forehead and brushing the sides of her face. She was seated with her body angled slightly to the right, leaning against the armrest in a relaxed posture that exuded quiet grace. Her features leaned toward the sculpted side, and with the crisp makeup, her profile appeared strikingly sharp.
Song Xian stared into the viewfinder for a long moment before speaking. “Hold on.”
He Xiaoying turned. “What’s wrong?”
“The makeup isn’t right,” Song Xian said. Then glanced toward the window. “And the lighting isn’t ideal either.”
Jiang Liuyi’s white outfit was especially prone to reflecting light.
Song Xian directed the lighting crew to step back a bit, then said to He Xiaoying, “Let’s do the interview first. We’ll take the photos afterward.”
It was the first time Jiang Liuyi had seen Song Xian at work—issuing instructions with such methodical ease, her manner calm and composed, possessing a steadiness beyond her years. Jiang Liuyi had previously misunderstood the nature of Song Xian’s work, thinking photography was just snapping a few pictures and editing them later. Only now did she realize how wrong she’d been.
This Song Xian…
Is actually kind of captivating.
Jiang Liuyi lowered her gaze, a soft smile playing on her lips. He Xiaoying caught it and quickly asked, “Teacher Jiang, for the interview… would it be alright if we include a few things about you and Song Xian?”
“I heard it was love at first sight between you and Song Xian?” He Xiaoying asked eagerly.
Jiang Liuyi looked up, slightly surprised. “Did Song Xian say that?”
He Xiaoying nodded like a pecking chick. “Mm-hmm, she did.”
Sure, it was probably her looks that caught Song Xian’s eye at first—but wasn’t that basically the same thing? No harm in dressing it up a little.
Jiang Liuyi’s gaze drifted toward Song Xian, who was a short distance away, speaking with the lighting technician. Her side profile was focused, composed, as she gestured precisely to adjust the angle. Jiang Liuyi watched her for several seconds before returning to herself. “Yes. It was.”
He Xiaoying lit up with excitement and immediately dove into several more questions she’d been too nervous to ask earlier.
Jiang Liuyi didn’t put on airs—she answered candidly and directly. The conversation flowed naturally, and the atmosphere during the interview was warm and relaxed.
Before long, the interview wrapped up. He Xiaoying was thoroughly satisfied. Song Xian, having finalized the lighting setup, walked over to Jiang Liuyi and said, “I’ll redo your makeup.”
He Xiaoying blinked. “Song Xian, you really can do everything!”
Everyone at the magazine knew Song Xian was brilliant—she could draw, shoot, and her retouching skills were unmatched. Anytime someone had a problem, she was the go-to. They all said she was exceptional, but to think she could even do makeup?
He Xiaoying was genuinely impressed.
Song Xian flashed her a smile and led Jiang Liuyi over to the makeup station. The cosmetics were all there—usually for quick touch-ups. She glanced at the ones that had already been used, then reached below and pulled out a brand-new, unopened set.
Her hands moved with practiced ease. Jiang Liuyi’s makeup was typically done by professionals; she usually wore only a light touch when she went out. But under Song Xian’s skilled hands, her striking features gradually softened. Her brows and eyes took on a gentler expression, and the elegance of a classical beauty quietly surfaced.
Standing to the side, He Xiaoying watched as if she were witnessing magic unfold, unable to hold back her amazement. “This is incredible.”
The difference was striking—her entire aura had shifted. Jiang Liuyi’s love of classical music had been a major focus of the interview, and now, with this look to match…
Perfection. Absolute perfection.
He Xiaoying burst into applause. Song Xian glanced her way, and He Xiaoying got the hint immediately. “I’ll go edit the transcript.”
Once the room cleared, Jiang Liuyi looked at her reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t the first time she’d worn makeup like this. Before performances, her makeup artist often tailored the look to match the mood of the music. But this—being made up by Song Xian—felt entirely different.
Something stirred at the edges of her heart, rising unbidden.
Song Xian set down the brush. “All done.”
Jiang Liuyi glanced at the mirror—flawless. Not a trace out of place. She stood up. Song Xian gave her outfit a quick once-over, then said, “Hold on.”
The two stood face to face. Jiang Liuyi hadn’t yet guessed what Song Xian was about to do when she saw her looking around—and then suddenly starting to undress. Jiang Liuyi’s expression shifted slightly, but Song Xian had already slipped off her shirt and handed it to her.
“Wear this.” It was a soft blush-pink shirt. Underneath, Song Xian still wore a white camisole, her fair arms and bare shoulders exposed. Her shoulders were smooth, her arms slender and straight. Jiang Liuyi froze for a second, and Song Xian had already slipped the shirt onto her, adjusting it as she went. She didn’t bother with the buttons—instead, she tied a loose knot at the hem. A familiar scent wafted up, subtle and close.
Right in front of her, Song Xian was lowering her head to tie the knot, her long lashes casting shadows, her profile absorbed and precise.
After finishing the knot, Song Xian adjusted the collar, lifting it slightly. Her hands moved around to the back of Jiang Liuyi’s neck, carefully arranging the fabric there. As she leaned in, all Jiang Liuyi could see was the elegant curve of her neck, the pale skin, the delicate collarbone.
Faint marks still lingered on her skin—just barely visible near the tip of her nose.
So tempting.
She wanted, desperately, to sink her teeth in.
