Starlight Descends - 40

Cardboard Box

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Saturday.

Nanshan Villa District.

Layered eaves nestled among lush tree canopies. Each standalone home had its own garden, each property spaced far from the next.

The car window rolled down. A hand extended outward, knuckles distinct, wrist bone resting on the sill, holding out an access card with a loose grip. The silver watch at his wrist caught the light with a cold metallic sheen.

The car’s Bluetooth was connected to a call. The background on the other end was noisy, the man’s voice rising and falling through the static.

“Shu, my birthday’s next week. First birthday back in the country. Come hang out tonight.”

The security staff handed the card back with both hands and reminded him that his plate number was already registered, so he could drive straight in next time.

Yu Jiashu paused for two seconds, thanked him, then took the card back.

He came here maybe once or twice a year. Half the time he forgot this place was supposed to be his home.

The car rolled forward slowly.

Lazily, he replied to the person on the phone, “Your birthday’s next week and you want me there today?”

"How big a deal are you, running a seven-day celebration?"

The man on the other end was one of his childhood friends. They’d gone through middle school and high school together and stayed close all these years. Hearing that, he laughed. “Han-ge said you’ve got something going on lately. Figured I'd scope out your schedule early. What if you’re busy next week?”

"Worry about him instead of me." Yu Jiashu scoffed. “Who’s the one whipped by his wife?”

Laughter burst from the other end. "Just make some time and come, I'm begging you. It's been ages. My glorious twenty-fifth birthday, don't I deserve a warm-up party.”

“We’ll see.” Yu Jiashu pulled the car into the garage and answered offhandedly. “Depends how dinner with the old man goes.”

There was a two-second pause on the other end, followed by a rapid change of tone.“Well if you're not in a good mood, don’t bother coming. No big deal. I probably see you more every year than you see your dad anyway. No rush, no rush."

Yu Jiashu paused, then laughed, mocking his friend's lightning-fast attitude change. He hung up cleanly, shut the car door, and headed into the house.

Passing by the garden, he noticed all the flowers had withered, leaving behind brittle branches. Someone had been halfway through clearing them—gloves and sharp pruning shears still sat abandoned nearby.

Yu Jiashu unlocked the door with his fingerprint.

It was Saturday. The housekeeper had the day off. The television flickered dimly in the first-floor living room, but nobody was there.

Sounds came from the kitchen. A moment later, a woman poked her head out, hesitated briefly, then untied her apron and walked over warmly.

“Jiashu’s home.”

She stood by the entrance watching him bend to change shoes, asking whether he’d eaten yet, asking how he'd been lately, her warmth so excessive it edged into awkwardness.

Yu Jiashu straightened and glanced at her.

“There’s no need.”

No need to act like this.

Three simple words, mercilessly puncturing her forcefully constructed atmosphere of warmth.

Tian Ying froze for two seconds. Her expression stiffened slightly. Her arms dropped to her sides. The strained smile she’d been forcing disappeared, and she stopped trying to play the role of the devoted, filial stepmother.

Once her expression settled, standing there quietly, her beauty became more obvious.

A slender, graceful figure, bright and striking features. In her early thirties, she carried the allure of maturity and time.

Even though she wasn’t much older than him, she was still Yu Chongshan’s legal wife.

Yu Jiashu lowered his gaze indifferently and walked past her.

Loosening the back of his neck slightly, he dropped onto the sofa and asked, “Where’s my dad?”

"He had to step out for a last-minute meeting. Said he should be back before lunch." Tian Ying looped her apron over her neck and asked him, "Still nothing in particular you want to eat?"

Yu Jiashu stretched out his long legs and gave a hum. His back sank into the soft sofa cushions as he opened WeChat and checked his messages.

Nothing new.

His fingers hovered over the chat window for two seconds, then he exited and turned the phone sideways to play a game.

During the loading animation, he lifted his eyes and looked at Tian Ying.

The woman stood in the kitchen doorway, both hands reaching behind her back to tie her apron with practiced motions.

Back when she first married into the family, she probably couldn’t even boil water. Now she could stay home all day taking care of children, cook an entire table of dishes whenever the housekeeper had the day off, and move through the role of wealthy-wife life with startling ease.

Before marrying Yu Chongshan, she too had stood beneath spotlights and before cameras.

She’d worn beautiful gowns, stepped onto award stages, smiled brightly as she raised trophies and thanked everyone watching.

Maybe it had all been false, but at least back then she’d been living for herself.

Marrying into wealth—it sounded glamorous, but in truth, it was a fortress under siege.

And still, there were always people willing to pay any price, rushing in one after another, desperate to get in.

Tian Ying was hardly the first.

Perhaps it was the similar career that made him think a little more than usual. For once, he actually broke the silence and spoke.

Why were some people willing to wade out of the mud, clean themselves spotless, and stand on stage, while others would throw everything away and dive into the flames like moths?

“Was it worth it?” The woman heard him ask.

Tian Ying turned back in surprise.

Yu Jiashu sat sprawled on the sofa, eyes lowered toward his game, fingers tapping across the screen with casual indifference.

A question out of nowhere.

But they both understood exactly what he meant.

The air was still for a moment.

"From the day I chose your father, I knew I'd spend the rest of my life obediently confined to this house, a full-time wife with no ambitions of my own."

Tian Ying faced away from him, expression calm as she slowly tightened the apron strings at her waist, her voice very quiet.

“Peaceful. Stable. There’s no real point asking whether it’s worth it.”

“Oh right,” she added quickly, slipping back into that gentle, virtuous expression again. “When your little sister comes home later, could you play with her for a bit? She's been asking for her brother.”

Yu Jiashu said nothing. His Adam's apple shifted. He loosely lifted his phone and headed upstairs.

No refusal. That meant yes.

In the few years since she'd married in, Tian Ying had learned to read his temperament.

He looked cold and detached. Barely came home once a year because of family conflicts and estrangement.

But compared to his father, he cared far more deeply than anyone realized.

A long while later, a soft, quiet sigh dispersed into the air.

Tian Ying shook her head and went back into the kitchen to cook.

***

His fingers hovered over the chat window.

The screen displayed the other person's cartoon avatar: a blue-and-white floppy-eared puppy.

The chat history still stopped at the day they'd eaten together, when Qi Yao had sat beside him, cheeks flushed, telling him he was the most handsome.

If he was so handsome, why won't she message him?

Yu Jiashu stared at the chat background for a while, typed a few words, then deleted them.

He opened his photo album and scrolled through it.

Nothing worth sending.

Why hadn’t he thought to take pictures of stray cats or dogs on the way over? At least then he'd have an opening.

She really hugged him and ran, huh.

This girl.

Not a single message. Seriously.

After a long moment, Yu Jiashu gave a self-mocking laugh, leaned back, and went back to his game.

His playstyle wasn’t gentle.

Every skill landed with ruthless precision, carrying the little buzz-cut on his team to ascend to heaven. But the opponents were no pushovers either. They started trash-talking nonstop in chat until Zhou Qi stopped moving entirely just to argue back.

Message after message filled the screen.

The insults were getting irritating.

Yu Jiashu's expression was dark, cold and impatient. He turned on his mic and dropped two words: "Shut up."

Less than two seconds later, the enemy crystal exploded.

Zhou Qi was beside himself, spamming over a dozen WeChat messages, praising his brilliance, his carry, his sheer magnificence.

Notification sounds rang endlessly.

Yu Jiashu skimmed them twice, tossed his phone aside, and leaned back irritably.

Why couldn’t even gaming distract him?

He propped his chin on his fingers and thought for a moment, then reached for his phone again.

[Happy Little Buzzcut]: Ge you’re actually insane AHHHHHHHHHH

[Happy Little Buzzcut]: I have one humble request

[Happy Little Buzzcut]: Can you carry me to King rank this season

[Happy Little Buzzcut]: PLEASE GE!!! I’ll do anything you ask

[Happy Little Buzzcut]: I'll climb a mountain of knives, dive into a sea of fire, plunge into a vat of boiling oil, whatever you want AHHHHHH

[S]: Mm.

[S]: How do you talk to a girl?

“……”

What the hell. The man ignored every single compliment and started a whole new topic.

A bizarre new topic, at that.

Zhou Qi’s brows twisted into a helpless ‘八’ shape and slowly typed a question mark.

“…?”

[S] : Asking for a friend.

Yeah right. What kind of pure-innocent friends do you have?

The people around Young Master Yu were either seasoned players or happily married men who kept themselves clean.

What, one of those married friends still didn’t know how to talk to their wives?

Zhou Qi held back the urge to expose him directly.

“I don’t know either! I’ve never dated anyone! Wait, I’ll ask my roommate.”

A few minutes later, Zhou Qi returned with acquired wisdom.

"He says once they've entered the sweet, stable phase, they can talk about literally anything every day. Food, sleep, random stuff.”

“And sharing things is super important! If they see something cute or interesting, they send it to each other immediately.”

Yu Jiashu replied with an oh, then commented lazily:

"They sound like they've got a lot of free time."

Zhou Qi: “……”

Not everybody’s as busy as you, okay?!

The young master who thought others had too much free time scoffed and typed into the chat window:

[S]: Have you eaten

Ten minutes passed.

No reply.

A tiny imaginary Zhou Qi appeared in midair, buzzcut and all, pointing at him with absolute conviction.

“Yu Jiashu, you’re done for.”

"This girl got you completely wrapped around her finger."

Yu Jiashu clicked his tongue.

Fine. Wrapped around her finger then.

He set his phone face-down on the table and got up to find a book, hoping to distract himself.

The bookshelf was impeccably organized.

Though he hadn't come here often since middle school, the third floor was still mostly his domain. His study was separate from Yu Chongshan's. The walls were lined with bookcases filled with expensive, specialized volumes.

Yu Jiashu hooked a finger around one of the books and pulled it free.

Then he looked up and spotted a box stored on the very top shelf.

After graduating high school, he’d lost the argument with Yu Chongshan and moved back here for half a month. That was the last time he'd stayed in this house before university, before going to San Francisco.

Most of the things he never threw away from high school were still stored here.

The cardboard box was old. Even with people maintaining the room, a layer of dust had settled over it.

Letters from many years ago sat quietly inside.

He hadn’t looked at them in a very long time.

After a long moment, Yu Jiashu tilted his head back, reached up, and pulled the box down.

***

Qi Yao had been run ragged the past two days and barely had time to check her phone.

Yesterday, she'd just finished filming a reality variety show, running laps on set, game after game, exhausting herself to the point of collapse. After a past-midnight flight, she jumped straight into promotional work with the new drama team, sitting through several formal interviews.

The new drama was a contemporary romance, workplace-adjacent, a sweet urban fluff.

She played a baker. The male lead secretly loved her from his student days onward before they finally ended up together.

By the time the two-hour interview wrapped up, Qi Yao was so tired she could faint. Her head throbbed dully.

Qiao Nian waited below the stage looking distinctly unhappy. She followed Qi Yao through backstage into the dressing room and lowered her voice. “What was that on stage? Why didn't you follow the script?"

“The scripted answers sounded dumb.” Lizi helped untie the sash at her waist while Qi Yao changed out of her outer skirt. Her voice was slightly hoarse. “Every question the host asked, I either had to act clueless or give some fake neutral answer. Anyone can tell it’s fake.”

“It’s not even something that can’t be talked about. What's the point?"

“But you also can’t just openly say you were some ordinary girl in high school…”

And what was all that about being an ordinary person looking up at the stars? It practically screams you had a secret crush. The gossip accounts will have a field day.

 

Qiao Nian swallowed the rest of the sentence. Compared to what she had to say next, this was nothing.

“What’s this about you accepting that student project?”

Qi Yao had wrapped up the dubbing work a couple days ago, her schedule packed tight. Her throat wasn't in great shape, and she wasn't inclined to speak more than necessary. She wrapped herself in her coat and answered flatly.

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“You can’t be serious. You’re turning down Director Zhang’s project for some low-budget web drama with no investors and no backing?” Qiao Nian looked ready to lose her mind again.

It was just a script.

Qi Yao lowered her gaze, suddenly remembering the man’s dark eyes and his relaxed, effortless composure.

Choosing what you genuinely wanted to do. Choosing stories that moved you.

What was wrong with that?

All roads led to Rome. Cherish the present.

That was the lesson Yu Jiashu had taught her that evening, in that impossibly relaxed way of his.

Whatever you want to do, just go do it.

Only now was Qi Yao beginning to understand more clearly how fundamentally different her way of thinking was from Qiao Nian’s and even Qiu Lang’s.

“If you actually read my messages properly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation today.”

Lizi opened the door. Qi Yao pulled on a white knitted beanie and headed outside.

“I'll handle things with Director Zhang myself. My scenes can be pushed back to mid-February. This drama starts filming right after New Year’s. If we move efficiently, a month and a half is enough.”

Qiao Nian stared at her in shock.“Director Zhang agreed?”

Fans were waiting outside the TV station, so their conversation was temporarily suspended. Qi Yao bowed and thanked each one, accepted an armful of gifts, and got into the car. Once they'd driven some distance, she continued. "He agreed."

Though the negotiations had been tough, and the terms were far from ideal.

“Qiao Nian.” Qi Yao lowered her eyes to her phone, expression unreadable. “If you’re going to use my resources to support new artists, then shouldn’t I at least have some freedom to choose my own projects?”

The woman in the passenger seat stiffened. After a long pause, she sighed in reluctant concession. “Fine.”

“If you can handle it yourself, then good. I'll talk to the boss. They won't interfere with you anymore on small matters like this."

“Xiao Wang, just drop me at the subway station ahead. I need to stop by the company.”

Once Qiao Nian was out of the car, Qi Yao finally let out a long breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose in exhaustion.

Yu Jiashu had sent a message at eleven in the morning. She didn't see it until four in the afternoon.

[S]: Have you eaten?

Qi Yao paused.

“……”

Why did that feel so strange?

That kind of polite small-talk question really didn’t suit him at all.

There was also a video attached.

Short, just over ten seconds. Qi Yao tapped to play it.

A sweet, soft little girl around four or five years old appeared onscreen, with long fluttering lashes and a hint of baby fat still rounding her cheeks. She was hugging a tablet, watching a drama.

The person holding the phone called out lazily. “Yu Qiuqiu.”

“What’re you doing?”

The voice was low and deep, its tail dragging lazily. Just hearing it, you could picture his careless, teasing expression.

The little girl turned around and glanced at him blankly before answering in a sweet childish voice. “Watching pretty sister.”

Too cute.

Soft and fair, delicate features, voice sticky-sweet like glutinous rice. Like a little porcelain doll.

Qi Yao felt her heart melt instantly, an unconscious smile tugging at her lips.

Yu Jiashu laughed softly. “Which pretty sister?”

Yu Qiuqiu turned back and waited. When the opening credits ended and the female lead's face appeared on screen, she pointed and looked back excitedly. “This pretty sister!”

The camera tilted slightly, revealing the drama playing on the tablet.

Yu Jiashu's voice carried a thread of lazy amusement. "You like her?"

“Mm!” Yu Qiuqiu nodded hard.

Her eyes curved into crescents. Her smile brilliant as a little sun as she whispered like she was sharing a secret. “I really really like her.”

"Alright." The man was still smiling. He moved the phone away, and then perhaps pulled it closer, because his voice suddenly grew louder, as if right by the ear. 

Faintly, the little girl’s childish voice could be heard again.

She seemed to call him ‘Gege’ and then asked if he also liked Yaoyao-jiejie.

That man answered without the slightest hesitation. His voice was as lazy as always.

“I like her.”

The tone was clear, offhanded, low and magnetic, filtering through the earbuds with a faint electric crackle into her ear canal.

“Like her to death.”

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