Chapter 23

Chapter 23: 023 – An Invitation

“Xiao Qing Yan, is it convenient to meet?”

Early the next morning, Qiao Qing Yan rubbed at her slightly swollen forehead, eyes barely open, and reached for her phone. The message came from an unknown number.

Right now, only two people called her Xiao Qing Yan.

One was the woman she’d met last night—the one who’d drunkenly insisted they were best friends.

And the other was…

Based on what that one had done last night, she definitely wouldn’t send a polite text asking to meet.

So it could only be…

Before Qiao Qing Yan could hit call, another message popped up.

“I’m in your hotel restaurant right now.”

—

Ten minutes later, Qiao Qing Yan walked into the hotel restaurant in a simple casual outfit, hair loosely tied back, her face still carrying the faint aftermath of a night of drinking.

“Xiao Qing Yan…”

A white-haired old matron in her seventies stepped toward her quickly, clasping both of Qiao Qing Yan’s hands as if she was afraid Qiao Qing Yan might vanish if she let go.

“I knew you would come.”

Qiao Qing Yan helped her back into her seat. “Senior…”

“You,” the old matron scolded softly, but the fondness in her eyes made it gentle. “You’re still the same as before. Call me Grandmother instead.”

Her smile turned nostalgic. “Back then, you called me that—from inside the drama to outside it.”

Inside the drama. Outside it.

Qiao Qing Yan glanced at the coffee in front of Old Madam Qian, then quietly slid it aside. She flagged the server and asked for warm milk and a few small pastries.

Old Madam Qian saw every movement clearly. She didn’t stop her.

“Xiao Qing Yan,” she said once the server left, “I came today to invite you to tonight’s banquet.”

There was more behind her words, more behind her eyes, but this wasn’t the place to say it out loud.

“The organizer’s banquet after the ceremony?” Qiao Qing Yan asked.

The day after an awards ceremony, the organizer always held a celebration banquet. There were no exceptions.

Qiao Qing Yan hadn’t planned to go. She’d already announced her retirement. And in her experience, that kind of banquet was where accidents happened most easily—where smiles cut and hands reached and rumors took shape.

She wanted peace now. She wanted to lie flat.

Old Madam Qian grabbed her hand again, holding it tightly, as if anchoring her. “That trophy was yours by right. There was no insider deal.”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “You should stand there openly and proudly.”

“And…” She hesitated, as if the next words were heavier than the first. Nearly a full minute passed before she finally spoke, slow and careful. “Old Ji and I both want to see you.”

Last night, Qiao Qing Yan had looked through the list of judges. She’d noticed an elderly name there—someone in his seventies, a director so internationally renowned his career could be described as legend.

So the Old Ji Old Madam Qian meant could only be Old Sir Ji Liang An.

He’d never married. No children. His entire life had been poured into art.

If there was a stain on that life, it had something to do with his only disciple.

Not because the disciple was bad. Because he believed he owed them.

About three years ago, when the original host’s career had started sliding downhill—faster and faster until no one in the industry dared use her—Elder Ji had recommended her for his disciple’s comeback work.

The result went without saying.

In the end, the disciple stopped making films and switched to variety shows instead.

It was said the master and disciple had fallen out because of it.

“You could’ve just called me,” Qiao Qing Yan said quietly.

Old Madam Qian smiled, and the lines at the corners of her eyes softened. “I was afraid if I didn’t come in person, you wouldn’t go.”

She squeezed Qiao Qing Yan’s hand once more. “Xiao Qing Yan, you’ll go tonight, right?”

“Old Ji and I will be waiting for you.”

Qiao Qing Yan didn’t answer immediately.

When they reached the hotel entrance, just before Old Madam Qian got into the car, she caught Qiao Qing Yan’s hand again, her grip surprisingly firm for her age.

“This time,” she said, voice low, “Old Ji pushed hard to add this award. He said he didn’t want to go against his bottom line and his principles. So that trophy is yours.”