Before the sun had even graced the horizon, a small, rounded figure was sprinting with all her might through the sports park on the outskirts of the city.
"Huff... huff... just five hundred meters... only five hundred to go..."
Enveloped in the morning mist, she looked like a piece of unbaked dango dough, her face flushed so red it seemed to be emitting steam. Her short legs pushed forward with grit, every step a desperate struggle against gravity itself.
Strapped to her arm, her phone's fitness app spoke in a chirpy, rhythmic tone:
[Great job, Xiaoxiao! You're about to overtake that elderly gentleman in front of you—oh, wait. He just accelerated. He's overtaken you again.]
"...Shut up!"
Ye Xiaoxiao panted like an exhausted ox, her eyes glazed over.
It wasn't that she didn't try. She woke up at 5:30 every morning to run, all because of the psychological blow dealt by the "ethereal goddesses"—the actresses on the film set where she worked.
Originally, she was just a soft, round "marshmallow girl." She never thought about dieting; she never thought about being "pretty." Then came her first day on set, and her worldview fractured.
Every woman there looked like they had stepped right out of a high-end beauty filter. Tiny waists, endless legs, defined abs, and collarbones deep enough to hold water for goldfish.
Xiaoxiao looked at her own round face, short legs, and little tummy... and her soul shivered in defeat. Since that day, the morning runs began.
But her destiny seemed to have a penchant for developing in strange directions.
"Xiaoxiao! Did you seriously just fall asleep while running?! Are you possessed by the God of Sleep?!"
Indeed, she had just run for twenty seconds with her eyes closed, nearly slamming headfirst into a tree.
"YE—XIAO—XIAO!"
The voice sounded like a broken gong crossed with a nightclub DJ, sharp enough to crack glass.
Xiaoxiao's hand jerked, nearly spilling the bag of hair accessories she was carrying for the actors.
"Here we go again... just how much of a devil do you have to be to drive people like this? Can't I even have five minutes of peace?" she grumbled. Her stout little legs instantly shifted into "Set Emergency Mode" as she sprinted eight hundred meters toward the source of the noise.
"Wei-ge! What is it now?"
"Call—me—WAYNE!"
Jiang Wei, the most difficult-to-please stylist on the entire crew, was currently pinching his meticulously manicured fingers—which looked as polished as a waxed floor—looking as though he wanted to shred the name "Wei-ge" into pieces and set them on fire.
"Wei-ge, Wei-ge! It's tacky! It's dated! It's trash!" Jiang Wei rolled his eyes so far back they nearly hit his skull.
"Yes!" Xiaoxiao immediately corrected herself, struggling with her limited English. "Wayne... ge?"
Wayne's gaze turned lethal. "Am I old? 'Ge' (Brother)? Are you trying to irritate me to death so you can take my job?"
"No, no! I'm going to get the clothes right now!" Xiaoxiao spun on her heel.
"The female lead's outfit for the next scene. Pronto. Post-haste. Now!" Wayne flicked his handkerchief, acting as if the entire world revolved around his command.
This was Ye Xiaoxiao's daily life—the lowest-ranking rookie on the crew, scolded from dawn till dusk by her toxic-tongued yet brilliant boss, Wayne, while trying to soak up every styling trick he had to offer.
As she ran, Xiaoxiao shouted silently in her heart:
God, can you hear me? Once I become a professional stylist, I'm writing a biography dedicated to roasting my current self... The title will be: 'Why Exactly Did I Not Quit?'
The Reason She Stayed
Beyond her dreams, there was a second reason—a little secret that made her glow every time she went to work.
Qin Mu.
Standing at 185cm. Cool temperament, a man of few words. One of the few people on set who didn't treat her like invisible air. He wasn't the male lead of the show, but in Xiaoxiao's heart... he was the star of her world.
One day, while she was touching up his makeup, he suddenly looked up, his voice as light as a morning breeze:
"Keep it up."
In that instant, her heart beat so hard it nearly leaped out of her chest. That single word of encouragement became the starting point of her fixation on his every move.
He drank water; she noted the brand. He changed costumes; she checked the measurements. He frowned; she got nervous. He smiled... and she simply melted.
The studio lights were sweltering, and the crew scurried around like they were fighting a fire. Qin Mu sat in the shadows off-camera, waiting for his scene while a makeup artist powdered his face. He was habitually quiet, showing polite restraint even during touch-ups.
Until his gaze caught that familiar small figure.
Ye Xiaoxiao was lugging three costumes, six hairpieces, and two storage crates. She was buried so deep under the props that the pile was almost taller than she was. Running too fast, her foot slipped, and she nearly collided with a light stand. A second later, her round face popped up, looking startled by her own clumsiness.
Qin Mu instinctively knit his brows: "...Dangerous."
He didn't stand up or call out, but he watched her quietly. He didn't like to talk, and he disliked socializing with strangers. To others, he was cold and unapproachable.
But Xiaoxiao possessed a strange power—she could make the still waters of his inner world ripple ever so slightly.
She was round, soft, and always running around drenched in sweat. What did she remind him of? A childhood memory surfaced—the plush doll that had stayed by his side for seven years. As a child, he didn't like playing with other kids; he could only fall asleep if he was hugging that doll.
It wasn't because the doll was beautiful. It was because... it made him feel safe.
And the girl before him was the same. In the middle of a chaotic, noisy film set, she was like a strange little center of gravity. Her "round" presence made the world feel a bit more bearable.
He watched her circle the set twice, nearly trip again, and get scolded three times by Wayne. Qin Mu didn't even know what he was looking for.
Then came the moment she touched up his makeup and he finally spoke: "Keep it up."
Xiaoxiao's head snapped up, her pupils dilating as if she'd been physically jolted. That expression—the look of someone whose entire world had been struck by a single sentence—left Qin Mu stunned.
Her eyes went wide, her face turned a scorching red, and she stood frozen, forgetting how to breathe.
The reaction was so pure... it was almost cute.
Qin Mu's throat tightened slightly, touched by an unintended spark. His own breath hitched for half a second. He quickly averted his gaze, but he couldn't hide the slight, involuntary softening of his heart.
He rarely smiled. But in that moment, the corner of his mouth curved—just a tiny bit.
It was a small gesture. But it was enough to make Ye Xiaoxiao's heart explode for three days straight.