This banquet was, in truth, nothing more than a collaboration between the Li family’s hotel and a popular short-video platform. Inviting food creators would raise the hotel’s profile, give it a glow of trendiness — good for future business. So of course Li Xiangwei had to invite Wen Yin. Wen Yin was the new star on the rise; besides, who didn’t know that “Heart’s Whisper” was one of Wen Yin’s alternate accounts?
Li Xiangwei couldn’t help picturing the commotion Wen Yin’s presence would cause. After a moment, when Wen Yin met her hopeful look, she simply smiled and nodded.
“All right,” Wen Yin said. “I’ll come.”
She had no new material at the moment — might as well turn the banquet into a food vlog. Li Xiangwei beamed and fished a gold invitation from her bag.
“The event’s tomorrow at eight,” she told her, handing it over.
Wen Yin slid it into her purse. “I’ll be there.”
After saying goodbye to Li Xiangwei, Wen Yin headed back to the studio. Caiyi had finally established itself in design circles; commercial partnerships were flowing smoothly. Wen Yin didn’t need to worry about every sketch anymore — the studio had taken on a host of young designers, and the whole thing was growing. She almost felt guilty at how comfortably she’d slipped into the role of a laid-back boss.
Near quitting time she texted Shao Yinan, and he arrived downstairs on the dot. In the past few months she’d put on a little weight — in a flattering way; her curves had softened and become more defined. Wen Yin broke into a jog and ran across the lot toward him.
“Shao Yinan.” Her tone these days was light and coquettish — a far cry from the frosty, distant woman she’d been a year ago.
He was still in his suit, sitting in the driver’s seat. When she reached him he stepped out and opened the passenger door for her. “Off work?”
He slid an arm around her waist as naturally as breathing, pulling her close. Their faces were inches apart; their breaths nearly mingled. Wen Yin lifted her petite face; her eyes shone like scattered stars. After all this time she’d tasted what it felt like to be gently cared for.
“The vegetables at home are nearly gone. Want to come to the market with me?” she asked softly.
Shao Yinan’s answer was automatic. He was entirely attentive to her lately — almost indulgent. Wen Yin nodded, and they drove to the nearest convenience store. Both of them pulled masks on; despite being mostly off the public stage, recognition still sent waves of attention whenever they appeared in public.
He pushed the cart and she walked beside him. After picking out the vegetables, they drifted naturally toward the snack aisle. Wen Yin glanced at the chips. At the exact moment she looked, Shao Yinan — as if reading her mind — plucked a bag of tomato chips off the shelf and popped it into the cart.
She smiled at the small, domestic gesture. After all these days together he’d learned her tastes perfectly. His dark, deep eyes softened with fondness.
“Anything else?” he asked.
She shook her head; everything she wanted was already in the cart.
They came home with two large bags and didn’t realize they’d already been recognized in the store. Their silhouettes were distinctive; it was nearly impossible not to. Some fans quietly snapped pictures and posted them to the ship forum for “The Only Heart.”
A fan wrote: “Ran into the Only Heart couple at the store — in person they’re even sweeter!! And Shao Yinan’s gaze never left Wen Yin!”
They posted several photos: the man in his suit, slightly turned, looking down at the woman with his eyes half-lidded; the woman slender and refined, standing next to him in a way that made them look oddly destined for each other. Replies poured in.
“This look between them is so fated!!”
“Shao Yinan is absolutely a husband who spoils his wife.”
“Even with a mask, Wen Yin’s angelic looks shine through!”
“Honestly, they’re the entertainment world’s top tier.”
“Paradise for face worshipers!!”
They were still driving home, oblivious, when the supermarket photos had already pushed the story up the trending list. The ship’s community exploded, as giddy as a festival. Both of them were semi-retired from the spotlight; seeing them together again felt like a rare gift.
Meanwhile, in a darkened room, Qi Siran hurled her tablet across the bed and watched it clatter to the floor.
“What a load of nonsense — ‘the entertainment world’s top couple’ my foot.” The smile on her face had twisted into something bitter. Ever since her marriage with Shao Yinan had fallen apart, all her certainties had started to fray. Was it because she wasn’t the family’s biological daughter? Because she’d never get the same affection? Maybe she’d made a mistake coming to the Qi family at all.
Her fingers curled until her long nails bit into the flesh of her palms, leaving angry crescents of purple and blue. The pain was a nasty, grounding thing, and for a few seconds it quieted the worse noise of envy.
The next evening Wen Yin arrived at Li Xiangwei’s hotel on time. The event looked grand — this was the hotel’s first venture teaming with internet creators, and every corner hummed with people. When Wen Yin showed up she sent Li Xiangwei a quick text; Li came down to meet her, but her face held a flicker of awkwardness.
“Yin,” Li said, lowering her voice. “I only just saw the list of bloggers invited this morning.”
Wen Yin noticed the small shift in her expression and read the question before it was fully asked. “Something wrong?”
Li Xiangwei tugged at her lip, troubled. “There are a few people on that list — I didn’t expect the manager would invite them too.” Her apology was in the way she looked at Wen Yin. “I’m sorry.”
Wen Yin offered a small, easy smile. “It’s fine. Big bloggers will only help spread the hotel’s name. I don’t mind.”
Li Xiangwei exhaled and relaxed. “If the big names join, it’ll help you get more exposure — why wouldn’t I want that?”
They fell into easy conversation, and then Wen Yin’s gaze skittered to a familiar silhouette among the crowd — someone she hadn’t expected to see here.