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“Don’t move.” His arms tightened around her, his breath and soft kisses falling on her neck, teasing her like a feather.
“It’s hot,” Song Qingyu murmured in protest.
“Where?” Li Huaidong’s hand landed over her heart. “Here?”
Blushing, Song Qingyu pushed his hand away. “If you can’t teach me to ride properly, I’ll find another instructor.”
Li Huaidong’s lips curved slightly.
“Hold on tight!” As he spoke, he pulled the reins. “Giddy up!”
The horse galloped forward.
Song Qingyu felt a jolt, and then, as the distant mountains and rivers blurred past, the scenery before her transformed into a moving painting.
The wind gradually swept away the heat from her body. She had thought she would be afraid her first time riding a horse, but with Li Huaidong’s arms securely around her, she felt an overwhelming sense of safety.
By the time they completed a lap, Song Qingyu had already begun to enjoy the thrill of horseback riding.
“When did you learn to ride?” she asked Li Huaidong.
“When I was fifteen.”
“No wonder you’re so good at it now.”
Li Huaidong reined in the horse and came to a stop. Jumping down, he said, “Now, it’s time to teach you.”
“Alright.”
“Hold the reins first—one in each hand. Loop them over your ring finger, then guide them out between your pinky and ring finger. Make a fist, and rest your thumb lightly on top,” Li Huaidong instructed.
Song Qingyu followed his explanation step by step, but her grip was still slightly off.
He took her hands in his, patiently adjusting her posture.
“Want to try a lap?”
“Alright.”
Li Huaidong fastened the lunge line to Chasewind’s bit, guiding the horse in a controlled circle around him.
“I’ll control the speed. Just relax and maintain the posture I showed you.”
“Okay.”
Riding alone felt completely different from riding with someone else.
At first, Song Qingyu felt a little uneasy. She took a deep breath, relaxed her body, and focused. Before long, she found her rhythm, and the tension in her gradually faded away.
“Not bad,” Li Huaidong praised.
“Do you think I can learn within a week?” Song Qingyu asked.
“Judging by how you’re doing now, definitely.”
With his encouragement, her confidence soared.
“How about letting go? I want to try on my own,” she said.
Li Huaidong glanced at her. “Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“Alright.”
He released the lead rope and stepped aside.
Song Qingyu gripped the reins herself, carefully pressing her legs against the horse’s sides just as Li Huaidong had taught her. Chasewind cooperated, flicking its tail and moving forward at a steady pace.
“Look! I can ride on my own!” Song Qingyu beamed, raising a hand toward Li Huaidong in excitement.
He gave her a thumbs-up. Under the sunlight, he seemed to glow.
For a split second, she got distracted. Losing her balance, she wobbled in the saddle before suddenly toppling off the horse.
“Ah!” she cried out.
In a flash, Li Huaidong lunged forward and caught her. He managed to break her fall, but the impact sent them both crashing to the ground.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine. What about you? Are you okay?”
The way Li Huaidong had caught her had absorbed most of the impact, leaving her unscathed. But he, on the other hand, had taken the full force of her fall.
“My back hurts a little,” he said.
“Did you get injured? Get up and let me check!”
Song Qingyu pushed herself up from the grass, trying to sit up, but before she could, Li Huaidong flipped his hand and pulled her back into his arms, holding her tightly.
“Just let me hold you a little longer. Then it won’t hurt anymore.”
She wasn’t sure if he was truly hurt or just teasing her, so she didn’t dare move recklessly. Instead, she remained in his embrace, her body pressed against his.
The sunlight poured down on them, and the air between them felt thick with something unspoken. Song Qingyu could feel his body heat—warmer than it had been when they were on the horse.
Across the field, Shen Mengli stood watching the two of them locked in an embrace on the grass. Her hands clenched into fists, her face dark with anger.
Coco Yang, Shen Mengli’s manager, didn’t dare make a sound. Having worked by Shen Mengli’s side for years, she knew better than anyone how much Shen Mengli longed to become Mrs. Li. That so-called engagement to a foreign boyfriend was nothing more than a publicity stunt of her own making.
“Mengli, don’t be angry. Even if she’s caught Li’s attention, she’s nothing more than a stand-in,” Coco said in an attempt to console her.
At the word “stand-in,” Shen Mengli’s expression twisted.
Realizing her mistake, Coco immediately smacked her own mouth. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that!”
“Coco, I don’t care about some second female lead anymore. The only thing I want now is for that bitch, Song Qingyu, to disappear! Help me, won’t you?”
—
Over the next week, Li Huaidong kept his word, setting aside time each day to teach Song Qingyu how to ride. When he was unavailable, Coach Xiao Jiang trained with her instead.
Song Qingyu trained with dedication and persistence, spending entire days at the equestrian center from morning till night.
Coach Xiao Jiang joked, “You’re training so hard—those who know you’re preparing for an audition would understand, but those who don’t might think you’re gearing up for war.”
Funnily enough, the role she was auditioning for was indeed that of a valiant female general, a warrior who led troops into battle.
A week later, Director Fan Jiang arrived at Qiushan Equestrian Center with his team of makeup artists and stylists for the audition.
Both Song Qingyu and Shen Mengli changed into identical costumes and wore the same makeup for the role.
After a brief explanation of the scene, Fan Jiang looked at them and said, “Let’s see you both in action on horseback. Who wants to go first?”
“Director Fan, my stomach isn’t feeling well. Let Ms. Song go first,” Shen Mengli said with a delicate smile.
Fan Jiang turned to Song Qingyu. “You’re up first. Is that okay?”
She had long been prepared; it made no difference whether she went first or second.
“Of course.”
“Good. Let’s begin.”
Song Qingyu took a deep breath. At the director’s call of “Action!” she stepped onto the stirrup and swung herself onto the saddle, ready to gallop forward.
She had practiced this sequence countless times before. Chasewind had always worked seamlessly with her, but today, something was off.
As soon as she mounted, Chasewind suddenly grew restless.
“Neigh—!”
With a sharp cry, the horse reared and then bolted eastward at full speed.
Seated atop, Song Qingyu was jolted violently as she struggled to keep her balance.
“Chasewind!” Song Qingyu pulled the reins tight. “Chasewind, stop!”
But the horse was completely out of control. It reared, tossed its head, and ran wildly as if it had gone mad.
Although Song Qingyu had learned to ride, her skills were far from advanced enough to handle such a dangerous situation.
Guan Xinya and the crew members watching nearby were horrified.
“Somebody help her! Quick!” Guan Xinya shouted in panic.
Director Fan Jiang and two male staff members attempted to chase after the horse, but Chasewind was far too fast for them to catch up.
Song Qingyu was being thrown around violently. Her head spun with nausea, and her hands were losing strength—she could barely hold onto the reins.
In the chaos, an overwhelming fear surged through her. She had the terrifying illusion that she was about to be thrown off and crushed to death.
“Whistle—”
A sharp whistle cut through the chaos.
It was Li Huaidong!
At the sound, Chasewind’s gallop faltered slightly, but the horse didn’t stop.
Without hesitation, Li Huaidong leaped onto another horse nearby, seized the reins, and cracked the whip.
“Hyah!”
He charged forward at full speed, racing after Song Qingyu.
Li Huaidong’s horse quickly caught up to Chasewind.
Song Qingyu was completely overwhelmed. The moment she saw Li Huaidong, her emotions burst forth. “Mr. Li, help me… Chasewind… I don’t know what’s wrong with him!”
“Don’t be afraid. Stay steady—I’m coming!”
As he spoke, Li Huaidong freed his feet from the stirrups, gathered his strength, and leaped onto Chasewind’s back in one fluid motion.
He landed behind Song Qingyu and immediately wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely.
Song Qingyu had been trembling in fear, but the steady, powerful rhythm of his heartbeat against her back instantly calmed her down.
She didn’t know why, but the moment Li Huaidong arrived, she felt an unwavering sense of trust—an instinctive certainty that she would be safe.
“Chasewind! Stop!” Li Huaidong commanded.
Li Huaidong leaned forward and gently patted Chasewind’s side. The restless horse gradually calmed under his touch. Sensing the shift, Li Huaidong tightened his grip on the reins and gave them a firm pull. Chasewind struggled for a moment before finally slowing to a stop.
“Are you alright?” Li Huaidong asked.
Song Qingyu shook her head. “I’m fine.”
After that near-disastrous ordeal, her entire body felt weak, and she instinctively leaned against Li Huaidong’s chest. He held her waist firmly, offering silent reassurance.
After a moment, he carefully helped her down from the horse.
Seeing that the horse had finally stopped, Guan Xinya and the crew rushed over in a panic.
“Qingyu, are you okay?” Director Fan Jiang, drenched in sweat, asked. In all his years of filming, he had never encountered such a dangerous situation.
“I’m fine now, Director Fan,” Song Qingyu reassured him.
“Hurry, hurry! Help Qingyu over to rest!”
Guan Xinya immediately supported Song Qingyu and guided her to a nearby tent to recover.
“Huaidong, I really can’t thank you enough for saving Qingyu today! If anything had happened to her before filming even started, it would’ve been a disaster. You’re my savior!” Director Fan Jiang exclaimed, still shaken.
“Director Fan, there’s no need to be so formal. But a horse suddenly going into a frenzy like that—it’s not normal. Something must have gone wrong. This needs to be thoroughly investigated.”
“Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right. We must get to the bottom of this,” Fan Jiang agreed, his expression turning serious.
Just as they were speaking, the horse handler led Chasewind forward, and the horse suddenly sneezed.
Li Huaidong stepped closer, reaching out to touch Chasewind’s muzzle. As his fingers brushed over the horse’s nose, he noticed a faint residue—spicy and irritating. Chili powder.
That explained everything. Chasewind was a well-trained horse, unlikely to go wild without reason. The only possibility was that it had been startled by something—something with a strong, irritating scent.
“Director Fan, there’s chili powder on the horse’s nose. That’s probably why it lost control,” Li Huaidong said.
“Chili powder?” Director Fan frowned. “But no one in our crew brought any chili powder.”
He scanned the gathered staff, his expression sharp. “Did any of you bring chili powder here today?”
“No,” the staff members all shook their heads. “We all had breakfast before coming. Why would we randomly carry chili powder?”
Their responses were firm, and their faces sincere. No one seemed to be lying.
A heavy silence fell over the set.
Song Qingyu replayed the entire sequence of the accident in her mind and suddenly thought of a possibility—could the problem have been with her?
Earlier today, when she and Shen Mengli were changing clothes, her manager, Coco Yang, had mentioned that the costumes had been mixed up, leading the two of them to swap outfits.
Song Qingyu lowered her head and glanced at her attire. Her costume for the day was black, and at first glance, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it. But upon closer inspection, she noticed a ring of brownish powder along the hem of her skirt.
She pinched the fabric between her fingers, then brought it to her nose for a sniff. A sharp, pungent spiciness instantly stung her nasal passages.
As expected—chili powder. And it was on her.
“Director Fan, there’s chili powder on my skirt,” Song Qingyu said, rising to her feet.
“What?”
“Someone sprinkled chili powder on my skirt. When I mounted the horse earlier, the motion caused the powder to scatter into the air. The horse must have been startled by the strong, irritating scent.”
“The smell—that’s what startled the horse so suddenly.”
Fan Jiang was in disbelief. He stepped forward, crouched down, and ran his fingers over the hem of Song Qingyu’s skirt. Sure enough, there was chili powder on it.
“Who did this?” Fan Jiang roared in anger. “Who sprinkled chili powder on Qingyu’s skirt?”
The crew members exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke up.
Meanwhile, Shen Mengli and her manager sat calmly to the side, acting as if this had nothing to do with them.
Song Qingyu walked straight toward Shen Mengli’s manager. “Ms. Coco, you were the one who switched my costume with Ms. Shen’s, weren’t you?”
“What are you implying?” Coco’s expression darkened instantly. “Are you accusing me of sprinkling chili powder on your skirt?”
“I’m simply asking whether you were the one who changed my costume. Why are you so quick to defend yourself?”
“I didn’t! I didn’t do it!” Coco’s voice rose in agitation. “Why would I do such a thing? I have no reason to!”
“I was competing with Ms. Shen for the same role today. You’re her manager—isn’t that reason enough?”
“Song Qingyu, stop being so petty!” Shen Mengli, who had remained silent until now, suddenly stood up and raised her voice. “Unlike you, I’m not struggling to get roles. Coco would never do something so despicable just to help me secure a part.”
“But aside from your manager, no one else here even touched this costume.”
“The costume was hanging in the dressing area—anyone in the styling team could have had access to it. Everyone is a suspect. Or maybe, you’re just terrible at handling horses, afraid of being eliminated by the director, and decided to sprinkle chili powder yourself so you could pin the blame on someone else.”
Song Qingyu was momentarily speechless. The lack of evidence was indeed the biggest obstacle.
Seeing her fall silent, a glimmer of satisfaction flashed across Shen Mengli’s eyes. She turned to Li Huaidong, her tone turning soft and coy. “Huaidong, this is your set. You should be the one to judge fairly. My manager can’t just be accused without reason.”
This ranch belongs to Li Huaidong?
No wonder Coach Xiao Jiang kept addressing him as “President Li” and following his every command—turns out, Li Huaidong was the owner.
But what exactly was Shen Mengli’s relationship with him? How did she even know about his business ventures so well?
“The costume was tampered with in the dressing room. Then let’s check the surveillance footage,” Li Huaidong said, signaling to the ranch staff.
“Yes, President Li.”
The staff immediately ran toward the office.
“There’s surveillance in the dressing room?” Coco’s face paled with guilt. “How could there be cameras in there? That would be an invasion of privacy!”
“Why are you so nervous?” Song Qingyu cast a cold glance at the manager. “He never even said which surveillance footage he was checking.”
Li Huaidong couldn’t help but smile. She stood there with her hands on her hips, full of aggression, yet somehow, it was oddly endearing.
Shen Mengli quickly pulled Coco to a seat beside her, signaling her to stop talking.
About ten minutes later, a staff member from the ranch rushed over and whispered something into Li Huaidong’s ear. He nodded.
Everyone on set watched him closely, waiting for the verdict.
Li Huaidong stepped toward Shen Mengli’s manager, Coco, towering over her as he said, “Hand it over.”
“W-what?”
“The chili powder.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Do you want me to call the police right now, or will you hand it over yourself?”
Coco’s face changed drastically.