Mu Nanqiu chatted briefly with Su Yao about writing.
In truth, she didn’t have much experience either; writing well depended mostly on talent and literary cultivation, plus, compared to Su Yao, she had simply read more.
But many of the elements in writing were universal, and online stories ultimately boiled down to the four characters: introduction, development, twist, and conclusion.
So Mu Nanqiu explained a lot of straightforward and easy-to-understand points.
Though all of it was quite basic, after Mu Nanqiu’s guidance, Su Yao suddenly felt a bit enlightened.
She hurriedly opened the document from earlier, placed her hands on the keyboard, and began happily typing away.
The hardest part is always the beginning, but the beginning is also the most exciting time—the typical three-minute enthusiasm.
Seeing the somewhat confused yet seemingly understanding expression Su Yao sent, Mu Nanqiu’s smile grew wider.
When Mi Gao, the little boy, walked over and saw her laughing, he was a bit startled.
He cautiously took a step or two back and called out to Mu Nanqiu.
“Sis, you seem pretty happy lately.”
Mu Nanqiu rolled her eyes at him, her smile fading as she returned to her usual bland, indifferent demeanor.
The little boy sighed in relief—it was really his sister after all—and quickly stretched into a grin.
“Sis, Mom told me to ask you to hurry up.”
“Oh.”
Mentioning their mother, Mu Nanqiu pursed her lips and waved her hand, trying to send the little brother away.
But the boy gave her a knowing look, eyes sparkling mischievously, clearly not about to leave so easily.
After all, he had just seen something important.
With things tight around here lately, he might slip something if he didn’t watch himself~
Mu Nanqiu twitched the corner of her mouth, gave a cold smile, and said,
“What? Haven’t I taken care of you for so long you forgot I’m your sister?”
The boy looked utterly wronged, pouting as he grabbed his sister’s hand and shook it.
“Sis, give me some, sis, give me some.”
“Heh.” Mu Nanqiu shook off both his hands.
“Our family’s poor. Where do you think I’d have cash lying around?”
She looked helpless despite her intentions.
The little boy puffed out his cheeks and ran off—he knew if he stayed, he’d get scolded.
Better to ask Second Sister for some money instead.
After dealing with the brat, Mu Nanqiu sighed.
Out of courtesy, she changed clothes and redid her makeup to look elegant and appropriate before leaving home and getting into the car that had been waiting for a while.
At the entrance of a hotel in the city, Mu Nanqiu got out of the car and was just about to go inside when she heard someone call her name.
She turned and saw Hua Mingye.
Normally, that wouldn’t be a big deal, but beside Hua Mingye stood a girl with a dazzlingly bright smile.
Mu Nanqiu frowned and thought to herself,
“Isn’t she supposed to be abroad?”
The two women, both beautifully dressed, slowly approached.
Hua Mingye carried herself with grace, while the girl next to her looked somewhat out of place.
“Nanqiu, long time no see!”
“What a coincidence.”
Mu Nanqiu ignored her and fixed her gaze on Hua Mingye.
Hua Mingye smiled faintly and returned her glance, but the two didn’t start a conversation.
After a while of silence, the girl with the wavy hair felt awkward—she had been the only one talking the entire time without a single response.
Mu Nanqiu’s coldness made her feel especially wronged; she had traveled all the way back from abroad just to visit Mu Nanqiu, so how could she be treated this way?
She tried to link arms with Mu Nanqiu but was avoided, which was an even bigger blow.
“What’s going on?”
Doubt crept into her mind.
Even if Mu Nanqiu didn’t have feelings for her, she wouldn’t be this cold or deliberately avoid her, almost as if she wanted nothing to do with her.
On top of that, the strange tension between Mu Nanqiu and Hua Mingye made her feel even more uneasy.
“Nanqiu?”
Mu Nanqiu still didn’t reply.
Only after they entered the hotel and were led to the reserved floor did she speak to the girl.
“I’m going to talk with her alone. You go ahead.”
The girl was annoyed.
If it weren’t for Mu Nanqiu, she probably would have lost her temper right then and there.
Watching Mu Nanqiu and Hua Mingye walk away, she could only stomp her high heels in frustration, nearly stumbling.
Frowning deeply, she growled Mu Nanqiu’s name under her breath.
Elsewhere, after Mu Nanqiu and Hua Mingye reached a quieter spot, they stopped without looking at each other, each facing their own direction.
After a moment of silence, Mu Nanqiu spoke first.
“Control the one you’re raising.”
“Why?” Hua Mingye retorted. “You expect me to agree just because you say so?”
“I don’t care how you treat others, but Su Yao is mine now. I don’t want her to have any contact with you or your people.”
Mu Nanqiu was referring to the six thousand yuan matter.
Hua Mingye smirked playfully and said,
“Fine, I agree. But Aqiu, you really care about her, huh? I thought you were just playing around, and once you got bored, you’d toss her aside.”
Mu Nanqiu turned to look at Hua Mingye’s face, which took on a seductive charm whenever she smiled.
Her gaze grew distant.
“If one day you really get tired of her and throw her away, remember to tell me where you left her. I don’t mind picking up other people’s unwanted toys.”
“Next life, maybe.”
Mu Nanqiu shot back.
Hua Mingye covered her mouth to laugh softly, then turned and walked back the way she came.
Watching her retreating figure, Mu Nanqiu clicked her tongue.
Su Yao stretched.
After a long time of dawdling, she finally finished the opening chapter.
She deleted most of the YY, keeping only the essential parts.
Also, following Oyster Sauce’s advice, she added some extra content for padding so the story wouldn’t look so skeletal.
She inserted half of the six-thousand-word piece into the book she had opened long ago, then submitted it for Audit.
“All done, just waiting for tomorrow!”
Feeling a bit excited after finishing everything, she checked the time and realized dinner time had passed.
Su Yao quickly stood up from her chair and hurried out of her bedroom, skipping and hopping as she went to cook herself a feast of instant noodles.
Instant noodles had enough calories but weren’t filling.
She slipped her hand under her shirt and felt her flat, smooth belly.
She frowned; she still wanted to eat something, so she boiled two eggs with the hot water kettle.
With nothing else to do late at night, Su Yao thought about playing games.
But after messaging her little sister-in-law, she got a reply saying she was busy.
Oyster Sauce was also occupied tonight and could only accompany her later.
Playing alone, Su Yao didn’t even want to log into her second account, so she gave up the idea of gaming to kill time.
Instead, she opened a website and, on a whim, went to the school’s Forum.
The grand performance from a couple of days ago was sure to have ongoing discussions—after all, it had only been two days, so the heat hadn’t died down yet.
Scrolling through, there were reviews of the show, questions about which senior or junior was in which class, and some juicy gossip about behind-the-scenes happenings.
Of course, there were plenty of flame wars too.
Su Yao usually just read these for fun and rarely participated.
After watching a few recorded videos from the event, she thought the atmosphere was really quite good.
However, she hadn’t seen any posts related to her own class, so she kept scrolling.
Suddenly, a title caught her eye:
“Mouth Stammering Witch?”
Su Yao’s mouth opened slightly, wanting to refute it, but it was true that she had stammered back then…
She originally thought it was just a lighthearted joke post, but upon clicking, she was surprised to find it was actually an inside gossip thread!
The headline read: “How a stuttering witch on stage became an adorably clumsy Little Sister.”
The first part was normal, reviewing the stage play’s performance as average, mentioning some shortcuts taken—not as elegant or daring as other acts.
The poster half-jokingly suggested the show might have gotten in through connections.
Further down was an analysis of the witch character played by Su Yao.
The explanation sounded reasonable, but the true meaning was hidden beneath.
The earlier praise was just setting up a twist.
The witch character was said to be grounded in reality.
While not deep, she was the most three-dimensional character in the script, overshadowing the other two.
The Little Sister who played the witch portrayed her evil and desire, alongside contrasting innocence and clumsiness.
This made the witch different from the pure villains in other stories.
The poster had to commend the Little Sister’s acting skills—they didn’t even seem like acting.
Su Yao felt strange—she had blankly spaced out during the performance, but others thought she was scheming, playing a grand game of strategy.
The summary was: “I really didn’t expect all this!”
At last, the poster uploaded the Map of Yan Kingdom and ended this section by raising a suspenseful question.
“Did you know? Half an hour before going on stage, the witch wasn’t originally supposed to be this Little Sister, but someone else!”
What happened? Why the last-minute substitution?
Then the post abruptly stopped.
Su Yao checked the comments but didn’t see the poster continue.
However, someone else leaked multiple layers of gossip, simply saying: “It’s all someone’s fault,” leaving behind that cryptic riddle.
People in the thread asked for details, curious, but this mystery person refused to be clear.
Their fragmented and confusing messages twisted the meaning, making everything even more puzzling.
Su Yao thought about writing her own explanation.
Then she saw someone had already posted a clear answer.
What else could it be?
Some woman throwing a tantrum!
Below that, suddenly someone seemed to have lost their mind and raised the question to an even more abstract level, sparking a heated argument about…
Su Yao was shocked.
They could actually start fighting over this?