Chapter Ten: A Turbulent Heart

After removing her costume, Mo Nianian searched for her clothes, only to realize they were gone. She distinctly remembered leaving them on the bench here—how could they have vanished after filming? With a little thought, Mo Nianian understood the situation. The crew’s leading actress was notoriously difficult, a princess with a temperament; wherever she went, no one else’s belongings were allowed. Most likely, the staff had packed away Mo Nianian’s clothes.

The changing area was discreet enough that others rarely passed by. She pulled the door open a crack and poked her head out. “Could you help me ask about my clothes—” Before she could finish, she saw Jiang Hu at the doorway. She was a little puzzled, “Why are you here?”

Jiang Hu was frozen, unnaturally stiff. He stood there, dumbfounded, uncertain how to proceed. Driven purely by instinct, he handed her the clothes. “Sis, your… your clothes.”

Mo Nianian took them, thanked him, and brought them inside. That exposed arm, pale to the point of gleaming, was like the finest porcelain. And…

She forgot that there was a dressing mirror in the room. Through the crack in the door, she could see the person inside with absolute clarity.

Jiang Hu’s mind was in chaos; his heart raced uncontrollably. He had never felt this way before, and he was decidedly off-kilter. Restless, he sent Mo Nianian a message, feigning urgent business and left in haste.

He was about to lose his mind—truly.

Mo Nianian stayed with the crew for four days. Honestly, only the first day’s scenes were difficult; the rest were effortless. It was one of those slap-in-the-face dramas, and throughout, she put everyone else firmly in their place.

The director was thoroughly pleased with Mo Nianian’s performance. The skill, the power—it radiated an absolute dominance, even without post-production. Remarkable, simply outstanding.

With a grand gesture, the director increased Mo Nianian’s original pay.

Mo Nianian was satisfied as well. She packed her things and went home.

It was a pity the child was not at home—there was nothing to eat.

She ordered takeout, had barely taken a few bites when Jiang Hu walked in.

Seeing her silhouette in the room, Jiang Hu stiffened again. “Sis… you’re back.”

“Yes, I came home early. I was starving—wanted beef noodles.” Mo Nianian looked at him expectantly.

The crew’s boxed meals were truly mediocre. She even thought they tasted worse than fasting pills.

She missed the child’s cooking so dearly.

Jiang Hu silently cooked noodles, setting them before Mo Nianian, who gleefully dug in.

“Sis… I wanted to ask you something.”

Mo Nianian answered absent-mindedly, not even raising her head, “Hmm, what is it?”

Jiang Hu sat ramrod straight, his back tense. “Have you always done this?”

“You mean stunt work? Yes.”

“When I asked you for money before—” Jiang Hu’s hand clenched unconsciously, his whole body drawn tight as a bow.

The first time he’d asked for money, it was because Mo Nianian had been so good to him—better than he ever imagined. He began testing her limits. During that period, his requests grew increasingly unreasonable, tinged with a desire for revenge.

He’d had enough of living in suspicion, never understanding what Mo Nianian wanted. He even hoped to provoke her anger, thinking he wouldn’t mind returning to those old days.

So he asked her for money for the first time.

If he’d dared ask before, that wicked woman would have beaten him, tortured him, and hung him out for two days without food or water.

He was prepared for a falling out. Who knew Mo Nianian would actually give him the money?

He couldn’t help but project his worst fears onto her, painting her as a villain in his memories, over and over reminding himself not to be beguiled, not to be deceived, that all this was just sugar-coated poison that would one day be repaid double.

Afterwards, he retaliated by asking for money again and again, his reasons ever more bizarre.

Mo Nianian never suspected a thing, always gave him the money, and always more than he requested.

If earning money were easy for her, it would be one thing, but Mo Nianian worked as a stunt double—a grueling job.

To support him.

That realization almost crushed Jiang Hu. He bowed his head, trembling slightly.

Mo Nianian didn’t understand what Jiang Hu meant, so she probed, “Short on money lately? Want something? Don’t worry, Sis has plenty.”

According to the system, boys Jiang Hu’s age loved to play—was he broke, and embarrassed to ask because he knew how hard she worked?

Thinking that, Mo Nianian’s heart melted. The child she’d raised cared enough to worry about her—so precious, such an angelic boy.

“No!” Jiang Hu hastily replied, “I still have money. Keep yours, Sis.”

“All right then.”

Kids this age are proud. She’d give him more pocket money soon. No, tomorrow—her own child should have what others do.

Mo Nianian finally understood the joy of raising a child, watching that tiny bundle grow bit by bit into his current age. The sense of achievement was indescribable—far more interesting than raising kittens.

That night, Jiang Hu was plagued by chaotic dreams. In one, he was being beaten by the “Mo Nianian” of his past, hung in the living room, being asked why he hadn’t died yet.

Because of him, the unwanted burden, her quality of life plummeted.

Jiang Hu never quite understood. His tuition had been paid long ago; he handed all his scholarship money to “Mo Nianian” for living expenses. Yet even so, he often went days without food, never bought clothes, and only lived in her house. He’d planned, once he came of age, to earn money and repay her.

But why didn’t she like him at all?

Young Jiang Hu didn’t understand.

He knew Mo Nianian had no obligation to raise him. He was living under someone else’s roof, so all he could do was be obedient—more obedient.

But it hurt so much. The pain nearly drove him mad. Hunger twisted his stomach in spasms, and he missed his parents so terribly.

Soon, he dreamed of the present Mo Nianian, who treated him well: picking him up from school, helping him against bullies, buying him delicious food…

The two dream worlds tangled together, leaving him utterly confused.

Finally, he dreamed of a white mist, where a shadowy figure waited. He heard voices, followed the sound, and the figure grew clearer.

The mist vanished, and he saw Mo Nianian, clad in a layer of gauze, alluring as a fairy, every glance and smile captivating.

He stared blankly as she came closer, her soft arms draping around his neck, blowing gently into his ear.

“Sis…”

After that, Jiang Hu remembered nothing—he fell into a feverish haze, rising and falling, as if floating among the clouds.