Moth Chasing the Sun 1
Nian Zhong pushed the door open, followed by a girl with round-framed glasses and a fair, round face. Before a word was spoken, her eyes darted away.
"Dummy! Peanuts!" the parrot squawked from its cage.
Nian Zhong shuffled over with an embarrassed smile. "It's a bit noisy, haha... Eat, eat, eat, all you know is eating. You eat more than three people combined!"
The parrot shook its head, ignoring her.
Muttering to herself, she scooped a bowl of birdseed from the cabinet below the cage and poured it in. "Eat up! When you get so fat you can't fly, you'll know what dieting means."
"It's like a little human," Nian Zhong said, shaking her head helplessly as she watched the parrot wolf down its food. She then waved the round-faced girl over. "This is my little apprentice. She's extremely talented, just a bit shy and not very talkative."
"Do you need the clothes urgently?" she asked.
"We need them before the 26th," Lu Mingqiu said.
"That's a bit tight..." Nian Zhong clicked her tongue. "But I can manage."
She picked up a sketchbook from her workbench, pulled a pen from her hair, and dashed off a quick sketch—a few simple strokes outlining a human figure, then adding clothes onto it.
"I have two concepts. One is an improved qipao—here," she pointed at the slit position, "extending outward in a water-ripple pattern, and adjusting the hem—pulling it back here, spreading out like a fishtail."
"The other is a slip dress with thin straps underneath, plus a waist cincher." She drew a new sketch as she spoke. "Add an outer layer; you'd wear your hair up."
"Xiao Li, what do you think?"
The round-faced girl stayed silent. She glanced at them, then took the sketchbook and added a slit to the dress, plus a jade hairpin shaped like a bamboo leaf.
Yan Xianchuan noticed that both designs were for Lu Mingqiu.
"As for Miss Yan..." Nian Zhong circled her twice, muttering a string of numbers to herself.
Yan Xianchuan looked at her calmly and noticed the designer had prosthetic eyes in both sockets.
She called Xiao Li over, and the two huddled together, whispering.
Nian Zhong had already guessed Yan Xianchuan's identity. Working in this field required knowing about the wealthy families and their backgrounds.
Surname Yan, betrothed to the most famous film queen, evening gown needed before the 26th, and the 27th was the ancestor worship ceremony. Put those together, and not guessing who she was would be pure stupidity—especially when her lower face resembled a certain mayor constantly on the news.
Nian Zhong had worked with Lu Mingqiu before, knew her preferences, and understood what styles suited her, so she could whip up two designs quickly.
Honestly, she'd modeled many of her past sketches on Lu Mingqiu's proportions.
But Yan Xianchuan's figure was excellent too, yet the thought of designing for a Yan family member—especially for the ancestor worship ceremony—made Nian Zhong extra cautious.
She was a native of Moon City from a humble background. Her family struggled to pay her tuition each year, but with top-three professional grades, her parents gritted their teeth to support her.
Her breakout—standing out among peers with connections and wealth—came from a talent scholarship program personally approved by the mayor, a truly transparent professional competition that gave the skilled a chance to shine. She didn't win first place, but a big company spotted her, offering a job before graduation.
Nian Zhong held great respect for the Yan family and the mayor.
"I can't show you drafts today, but I'll have them by tomorrow—both finished designs together," she said confidently.
"I trust you," Lu Mingqiu said. "You've always had good taste."
"Then I won't keep you from your work. Just contact me directly if you have any ideas."
"Alright, take care, Sister Qiuqiu." Nian Zhong saw them to the door, then turned and dove back into her studio.
"Since we're out, let's buy you a few outfits before we go," Lu Mingqiu said, leading Yan Xianchuan into another large store. "They haven't prepared clothes for you here."
Yan Xianchuan never bought clothes herself. Ever since she moved in with Lu Mingqiu, all her clothing and household items seemed to appear in the proper places on their own.
Of course, she knew it wasn't ghosts—it was Lu Mingqiu playing the secret caretaker, preparing everything.
It made her wonder if this woman had more than twenty-four hours in a day, because how else could she juggle so many tasks and still stay organized without a hitch?
Yan Xianchuan had no particular taste in clothes. Comfort was the main priority; after all, she looked good in anything.
Shopping together was nothing special—usually one person takes the lead, excitedly picking out clothes, while the other tags along, offering occasional suggestions, serving as a clothes rack, holding the bags and discarded garments.
Yan Xianchuan was the latter, but this time she had an extra role: an emotionless clothing model, chained to the fitting room.
Picking clothes for her was easy—anything not too extravagant looked good on her. So Lu Mingqiu focused more on fabric, color, and cut... Then she picked up a little round yellow hat with two pointy horns and plopped it on Yan Xianchuan's head.
Yan Xianchuan, holding several shirts, looked up from the chair, her dark eyes lacking light, showing endless calm confusion.
"Cute," Lu Mingqiu said, smirking like she'd pulled a prank.
Yan Xianchuan blinked, then smirked too.
"I'm just teasing you," Lu Mingqiu said with a laugh, reaching to take the hat off.
But the seated girl dodged, evading her hand.
"I want this," Yan Xianchuan said, raising her hand to cover her head. "I want it."
"Fine," Lu Mingqiu said, looking at her with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Wear it then."
For the rest of the day, she never took the hat off.
The two returned home late at night, having shopped all day and enjoyed a hearty meal, then lugged bags of purchases inside. They could have had the stores deliver, but Yan Xianchuan insisted on carrying them herself—she felt it gave the shopping trip a proper feel.
Shopping did lift one's spirits, but maybe it was also due to holding hands the whole time. Yan Xianchuan had left the house in a foul mood, her face darker than storm clouds, yet returned in high spirits, her smile more brilliant than the dawn.
Lu Mingqiu's last time seeing her smile like that was when she'd had a psychotic episode.
The purchased clothes were hung in the wardrobe by the two of them, along with various odds and ends.
Once everything was neatly put away, Yan Xianchuan changed into loungewear, sat on the sofa, and dug into a mango mille-crepe cake.
The TV played a variety show, with comedians taking turns, making everyone in the audience and on stage double over with laughter.
Lu Mingqiu sat beside her, so Yan Xianchuan also laughed until she was rocking side to side.
Early the next morning, Lu Mingqiu received a message from Nian Zhong—the timestamp was 5 AM, making one wonder if she'd stayed up all night.
Both outfits were simple and elegant, with bamboo motifs embroidered—cutouts at the hems and cuffs, with lining shadows mimicking mottled bamboo shade.
One mannequin wore a jade hairpin shaped like bamboo leaves; the other had a matching bamboo leaf brooch on its chest—complementing each other.
At breakfast, Lu Mingqiu showed the designs to Yan Xianchuan, who gave an "okay."
Further discussions about fabric ratios didn't interest Yan Xianchuan.
The next time she saw the outfits was when they arrived as finished garments.
Nian Zhong came with her apprentice-turned-assistant, bringing the clothes for a fitting, along with a tool kit for immediate adjustments.
The dresses were beautiful, well-fitted, and suited both of them—nothing to criticize.
On the 26th, the assistant surnamed Zeng who'd reminded her about returning to the mansion sent a message asking where she was.
Yan Xianchuan sent her address. A moment later, he replied: "I'll send someone right away; should arrive in about an hour and a half."
Exactly an hour and a half later, an airship hovered above Cuizhu Garden, extending a railed walkway that connected directly to the balcony.
A man in a long gown stepped out, speaking deferentially: "Miss Yan, Miss Bolov, please follow me."
Such an escort wasn't grand; only one person coming to fetch them could even be called shabby. Lu Mingqiu was used to it. She said calmly, "The luggage is in the living room; remember to bring it."
The man acknowledged with a "Yes."
"Let's go." She reached out, murmuring, "Don't be afraid."
Yan Xianchuan blinked, her heart blooming with delight. She had no idea what fear was, but if being afraid earned her extra care, then she was the most timid person in the world right now.
She beamed, squeezing the other's hand in return, and leaned into her with audacity.
When the man returned with their luggage, the airship closed its hatch, turned around, and flew off, finally landing over the imperial palace in an empty plaza.
The historic palace, once home to emperors of past dynasties, was now the private residence of the Yan family, with only a small section open to tourists.
This home was entirely unfamiliar to her; she knew the family structure only from the material Lu Mingqiu had specially provided over the past two days, introducing each member.
But apart from their widely known conflicts, any specific grudges these people had with her weren't in the material. Such private matters were too personal; even the Resistance couldn't uncover them.
The man carrying their luggage walked ahead, leading the way.
The palace was grand and imposing—from the stone pillars, carvings, flying eaves, and red tiles, one could glimpse the zenith of past history.
The Yan family had made extensive renovations, preserving the original architecture while filling the interior with modern technology.
Although autumn had arrived, the garden flowers were still blooming profusely, with heating keeping the entire rear palace area warm as spring.
The flowers here bloomed regardless of season, arranged at the gardener's whim.
Yan Xianchuan spotted turtles in the pond, sunning on rocks—one with an odd pattern like a fuzzy tiger skin. She called Lu Mingqiu to look, pointing.
A clear snicker sounded.
Yan Xianchuan turned to see a pretty but stern-faced person rolling her eyes and walking off.
Oh, judging by age, that was her fourth sister.