Whether Shuyao Qin ever agreed to sleep with Nana Toki, leave that hanging like a lantern unlit.

Either way, Nana knew her plush life had hit a cliff, like a silk ribbon cut clean.

To keep Shuyao Qin close, Nana poured in everything she’d ever earned in showbiz, a whole 16 million yuan, like tipping a lake into one cup.

She had only a few scattered hundreds left on her, like coins rattling in a cold bowl, and she might not last till next month’s shoot.

So.

She asked her agent—Sister Zhou, Zhou Wen—for 300,000 in cash, like borrowing a coal in winter snow.

“Hold up—you're a top star, and you need me to lend you money?” Sister Zhou’s voice jumped, like thunder under a low roof.

When she heard her own artist wanted to borrow cash, she blanked for a beat, like a cloud without rain. “Where'd your money go? Didn’t your drama dividend just drop?”

“Kept a lover,” Nana said, steady as a stone in a stream. “I burned through 16 million. I’ve got a few hundred left.”

Zhou Wen: “?”

You spent 16 million on a lover? Is your lover some endangered creature, like a snow leopard out of legend?

Also… wait.

“A lover? Qiao Wan, are you nuts?” Sister Zhou’s pitch spiked like a tea kettle shrieking.

Why keep a lover for no reason?

If you want love, you post on Twitter and go public like hanging a banner in the square. You keep a lover, and one sharp tongue will spin a storm out of dust.

“Hey, Sister Zhou, why the shouting? It’s just one little lover.” Nana smiled, breezy as spring grass.

She knew what her agent feared, but she had no other road. Besides paying to keep Shuyao Qin at her side and slowly growing feelings like ivy up a wall, she had no better way.

She couldn’t snatch a maiden in a civilized world like a bandit galloping through dawn.

“It’s not ‘just’ a lover. Once this slips or gets exposed, it’ll hit your career like frost on young shoots!” Sister Zhou’s glare was heavy, like stone on bamboo.

Qiao Wan didn’t look like a messy-lifestyle type; why pick up a lover out of nowhere?

“Is your career pressure too big? You got that itch like summer heat? Talk to me. I’ll find safe men who fit your taste, and we’ll solve your… needs,” she offered, like handing over cool tea.

“Pfft, pfft. What men to solve needs? Do I look like a woman who beds any man?” Nana gave her agent a look, dry as autumn wood. “Sister Zhou, you feverish?”

The man she’d approve of hadn’t been born yet, like a star that never rose.

Sister Zhou: “….” Great. She flipped the table in her head like wind flipping leaves.

“Didn’t you say you kept a lover?”

“Yeah. What’s the problem?”

“A lover’s a man you use to fix your biology, right?” Sister Zhou blinked, like seeing fog turn into mirrors.

Nana: “?”

“Who told you if a woman keeps a lover, it must be a man?” Her agent had her pegged like a lecher in a tavern.

“Then your lover is…?”

“A woman!” Nana chirped, bright as a sparrow.

“Huh?” A woman?!

“You’re a woman, and you kept a woman as a lover? Can same sex solve… biology?” Sister Zhou was fried crisp, outside and in, like sesame on a hot pan.

“I didn’t do anything. I just like her, so I spend on her,” said the rich-girl tone, airy as paper kites.

“….”

Anyway, park the lover talk aside like setting a basket by the door. Zhou Wen never expected her own artist was a lesbian; the news popped like fireworks under noon sun.

“So, Sister Zhou, can you lend me the 300,000? I’ll return it in a few days.”

Nana had considered a loan shark, like dipping hands in tar, but dropped it. She was a public figure; if it leaked, she could shrug, but Sister Zhou would worry like a sparrow in wind.

To spare her agent more shocks, Nana decided to cut problems by the root, like pulling weeds after rain.

Sister Zhou looked Nana up and down, like measuring cloth, thought a moment, then said slowly, “Qiao Wan, I’ll lend it. But bring that little lover over someday, let me see with my own eyes.”

No matter what, Qiao Wan was her artist. Even if she’d kept a lady lover, they had to move carefully, like stepping stones across a stream, or rumors would grow from moss.

“Sure. Not just a meet—let’s have dinner together.” Nana thumped her chest, brisk as drumbeats.

Days slid by like water over slate, and the audition for Chenyu, Like Frost arrived.

Nana had planned to go with Sister Zhou, but midway Sister Zhou got a call about meeting an important client and dumped Nana at the Chenyu, Like Frost production building, like dropping a chick at the coop.

Luckily, Nana’s audition flowed smooth, no snags, like wind through bamboo. Sister Zhou rushed over to drive her home and finally exhaled; she’d feared her artist, used to playing the adored female lead, would choke switching to the reviled second female, like sun thrown into shadow.

Turns out, she worried too much.

The Chenyu team even said Nana’s emotional control and acting were tight yet fluid, like silk with a hidden edge. Director Zhang was impressed, and the original author suspected Nana was the very vicious second female from the book, walking off the page like ink turning flesh.

All clear. Now they waited for the clapper to snap.

Director Zhang said the shoot would be out of town; the whole crew would leave the city for a while. So when Nana got home, she told Shuyao Qin, and handed her a freshly opened bank card, like passing a warm brick in winter. She told her to rest while she was away and not starve herself thin.

Truth be told, when Shuyao Qin took the card, she froze a little, like a deer in snowfall.

Ever since Nana kept her, it’d been almost half a month. Aside from sharing the bed at night when they had to, their time together was scarce, like counting stars through mist.

At first, Shuyao thought Nana wanted her body, greedy as a cat for cream. But the days marched sideways. Nana was so busy outside that she barely came home, like a traveler chasing trains.

Shuyao Qin said she was kept, but she felt more like a guard pet from a shop, bought to watch the door, like a faithful hound behind a gate.

Who does that—spend a fortune to keep a flower-soft beauty at home, then do nothing with her, just have her watch the house? It felt unreal, like a crane in a kitchen.

President Qin suddenly felt a little aggrieved, like a plum under late frost.

“When will you be back?” she asked over dinner, steam rising like cloud.

“Emmm, early next month,” Nana said, eyes warm as lamplight. “Just half a month. I’ll come back and renew your keep.”

Shuyao Qin: “…”

What is this, renewing a software membership, click and done?

She did the math on her fingers, like beads in an abacus: if Nana’s gone for half a month, then for a whole month she basically sleeps beside Nana a handful of nights and gets 16 million yuan?

And it’s just sleeping—actual sleep—no intimate exercise, full stop, like leaves set flat.

There’s probably no easier job on earth, like lying on a cloud for pay.

“How about I go with you?” President Qin, kept and restless, felt her money was too light to hold, like a kite without tail. “I’ve got nothing pressing.”

The funds Nana gave her earlier were enough to ease her company, like rain after drought, so there was no rush to chase cash.

“What would you do there? I’m going out to earn the money that keeps you,” Nana said, teasing like sunlight on the sill. “Why follow me to eat bitter?”

She lifted a piece of meat into Shuyao’s bowl, smile deepening like ink. She looked at her like a favorite treasure in a lacquer box. “If you’re bored at home, use the card to buy some sponsorships for your company.”

Silence slid down, like a quiet snow.

This woman was rich to the point of oil dripping from the pan.

Shuyao had sent people to check Nana’s personal account; it held only a few hundred yuan, like a dry well. But the card today had more than the keep from before, like a river refilled overnight. Only then did she realize she’d met a queen among rich women.

“What is it? President Qin looks all gloomy again, like clouds over a hill. What’s on your mind?”

Seeing Shuyao’s confused, life-questioning look, Nana swallowed her laugh and asked gently, like wind stroking reeds.

“Nothing… I’m just wondering how Miss Qiao earns so much. As far as I know, a female star’s income doesn’t reach this.”

Shuyao couldn’t figure out how Nana made so much in mere days; she was just a top-tier actress, like a peony among peonies.

“Mm-hmm? How do you know my surname is Qiao, and that I’m a star?” Nana’s eyes narrowed, playful as crescent moons. “I never told you. You investigated me, didn’t you?”

Shuyao nodded, silent, like a swallow afraid of the rain.

Nana disliked anyone peeking too deep into her life, like shutters closed against wind—though sometimes she made an exception for Nesting Phoenix, like a talisman tucked under silk.

“Don’t investigate me again,” she said softly, voice like spring water over stones. “Everything good you can see in me is what I want you to see.”