Her phone rang not long after.
Muyao glanced at the screen, a little surprised.
Li Zhenwei.
She answered. "You already messaged me," she said lightly, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"I know," he replied. "But a message isn't the same as hearing your voice." There was a brief pause, then his tone softened. "I saw your post."
Muyao leaned back in her chair, eyes drifting toward the ocean beyond the window. "Was it… too much?"
"No," he said immediately. "It was just right." A faint smile crept into his voice. "You didn't explain. You didn't defend yourself. You just… lived. That's harder than people think."
She exhaled quietly. "I didn't want to say the wrong thing."
"You didn't say anything," he replied. "That's why it worked."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The line stayed open, filled only by the soft rush of waves on her end and the muted city sounds on his.
"After Lianhai, are you planning to come straight back to Hua City?" Li Zhenwei asked carefully. His voice remained steady and professional but considerate. "There are a few media outlets asking for interviews—nothing urgent, and nothing you have to accept if you don't want to. If you'd rather stay out of the spotlight until filming starts, I'll handle it."
Muyao hesitated. She looked around the private room again—the polished wood, the muted light, the faint reflection of herself in the glass. Lianhai had given her warmth. Space. Breath.
But something inside her wasn't quite ready to return yet.
"Not immediately," she said gently.
Li Zhenwei didn't interrupt.
"I want to stop somewhere else first," Muyao continued. "A small town inland. Yunxi. Just for a few days."
"Yunxi…" he repeated, thinking. "The mountain town?"
She nodded, forgetting for a second that he couldn't see her. "I heard it's quiet. No crowds. No noise."
There was a short pause. Then he said, "That sounds like you've already decided."
She smiled faintly. "I have."
"Alright," Li Zhenwei said. "Go. Take the time you need. Just send me your itinerary so I know you're safe."
"I will."
"And Muyao," he added, his voice lowering slightly, more serious now, "you did well. All of this—you handled it better than anyone expected."
Her fingers tightened around the phone. "I couldn't have done it without you."
He didn't deny it. "Rest first. The world will still be here when you come back."
After the call ended, Muyao remained seated for a while longer. Outside, Lianhai's sea stretched endlessly under the fading light. Soon, she would leave this warmth behind—but not to return to chaos just yet.
Her food arrived shortly after, and she ate slowly, savoring each bite. The flavors were simple but comforting—a reminder of small pleasures she rarely allowed herself in the midst of work and preparation. Between bites, she glanced out at the sunlit ocean, letting the warm light and gentle breeze sink in.
The next morning, after a light breakfast from a local breakfast stall—freshly steamed buns, warm soy milk, and sweet pastries—Muyao felt ready to step out again.
She decided to make the most of her remaining time in Lianhai. Wandering through the town's sunny streets, she stopped at local shops to pick up souvenirs for her family—hand-painted postcards, carved wooden trinkets, seashell necklaces, and a few pieces of delicate ceramics. She arranged for the packages to be delivered home later, imagining the smiles her family would have when they arrived.
After finishing her souvenir errands, Muyao wandered down one of the wider streets, where a mix of local shops and modern boutiques caught her eye. One store stood out—a branch of Fengyun, a brand known for blending traditional Hua Xia culture with modern luxury fashion. The store had been opened by Feng Yuhan, her second uncle's wife, and Muyao knew the brand had a reputation for elegant, well-crafted pieces.
She stepped inside, letting the soft lighting and serene layout envelop her. Racks displayed carefully designed coats, scarves, and boots—each piece a mix of classic Hua Xia aesthetics and contemporary style. She ran her fingers over the fabrics, appreciating the balance of beauty and practicality.
Muyao selected a beige wool coat with subtle embroidery along the hem, a navy overcoat with clean lines, and a few scarves in muted, earthy tones. The pieces were elegant yet practical, perfect for the cooler mountain air she would encounter in Yunxi. She smiled, knowing they were both functional and a small connection to her family's world.
After arranging for her purchases to be packed and delivered, Muyao stepped back into the warm Lianhai sunlight. The sea stretched endlessly behind her, palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. Soon, she would leave this warmth for Yunxi's misty mountains and quiet streets—but for now, she allowed herself to savor the calm, the light, and the freedom of moving at her own pace.
She wandered a little longer along the sunlit streets, letting the soft hum of Lianhai guide her steps. Small cafes and local vendors caught her attention, and she paused to try a few more local treats—sweet coconut buns, freshly pressed sugarcane juice, and skewers of grilled seafood. Each bite was simple, comforting, and a small celebration of the quiet days she had carved out for herself.
In the afternoons, she strolled along the golden beaches, letting the turquoise waves lap at her feet, and pulled out her camera to capture moments she wanted to remember. The swaying palm trees, the vibrant market stalls, steaming bowls of seafood, and fiery sunsets became more than just images—they were pieces of a world that felt entirely her own.
By the fifth night, Muyao returned to her private room, tired but content. She sorted through the photos and video clips she had taken over the past five days, carefully selecting highlights for her vlog. Sitting down, she began piecing them together, letting the story of her Lianhai journey unfold naturally.
The vlog opened with sunlit streets and bustling local markets, colorful stalls brimming with handcrafted goods, and the friendly faces of vendors greeting passersby. Smooth transitions carried viewers to steaming bowls of fresh seafood, sweet coconut buns, skewers of grilled delicacies, and freshly pressed sugarcane juice, each clip capturing the sights, colors, and aromas of the town's cuisine.
Palm-lined beaches glistened under the golden sun, waves lapping at the sand, and the laughter of locals echoed in the background. As the video drew to a close, fiery sunsets painted the sky over the turquoise ocean, a perfect ending to her five-day escape. Every frame—from the intricate textures of hand-painted souvenirs to the warmth of the people she met—wove together a vivid, immersive record of the life, light, and calm she had found in Lianhai.
Finally satisfied, Muyao uploaded the vlog to her Weibo, accompanied by a short post:
"Five days in Lianhai… the sun, the sea, the markets, and the little moments in between. I hope this brings a bit of calm and warmth to your day, just like it did for me."
Almost immediately, notifications began to trickle in—hearts, comments, and reposts appearing slowly at first, then building momentum.
"Muyao, this is so beautiful… I feel like I'm walking through Lianhai with you!""The food looks amazing! I'm so hungry just watching.""The sunsets… wow, I could stare at them forever.""The markets and streets feel so alive… your vlog is so calming.""I love how peaceful everything looks. Makes me want to take a trip there myself!""Thank you for sharing this, Muyao. It feels like a little escape from everything."
Comments poured in from both longtime viewers who had followed her since her vlogging days and new fans discovering her for the first time through the post. Some mentioned how serene and grounded she seemed, while others admired how immersive and vivid the vlog felt.
For Muyao, it wasn't about the numbers. It was about sharing a part of the world she had experienced, and seeing her followers connect with it brought a quiet satisfaction. The vlog—much like her five days in Lianhai—had captured life as it was: warm, vibrant, and calm, at her own pace. Her journey of quiet exploration, small discoveries, and thoughtfully captured moments reminded her that she could navigate life—and her rising career—on her own terms.