After Being Bitten By Top-Tier O, Flop A Went Viral - Chapter 23

23: The Child Is Flustered Beyond Words

After hesitating for a long time, Qin Que finally placed her foot on Yan Qing’s lap under the latter’s silent gaze.

She wasn’t wearing socks, and the soft fabric of the school uniform felt unexpectedly comfortable against her skin—especially since it still carried the warmth of the other person’s body.

Qin Que covered her face with her hands, trying her best not to look at the scene, which was a bit too overwhelming for her.

A light chuckle sounded beside her ear. “Your feet are quite fair.”

Qin Que: “……”

At this moment, she wished she had an extra hand to cover both ears as well.

Her body temperature was slightly higher after the shower, and when Yan Qing’s fingers pressed against her ankle, the faint sting and coolness shot straight up her leg. Qin Que, still in a daze, shivered slightly.

She heard Yan Qing’s gentle reassurance, “Don’t be afraid. It’s already much better than this afternoon. It won’t hurt much.”

She wanted to say that she wasn’t afraid of the pain and that Yan Qing didn’t need to worry, but the other woman’s voice did comfort her. It reminded her of when she was a child and had scraped her knee. She hadn’t cried to avoid worrying her mother, but her mother would always fret over her while treating the wound, even shedding tears herself.

So, in the end, she just let out a soft hum, accepting Yan Qing’s kindness.

As Yan Qing had said, the ointment prescribed by the doctor was very effective. The pain during the second application was much milder than the first. Before long, Qin Que heard the words she’d been waiting for.

“Almost done.”

She lowered her hands and looked at Yan Qing. The woman’s fair fingers were still resting on her ankle, her eyes downcast. From Qin Que’s angle, those breathtakingly beautiful eyes were devoid of their usual sharpness, instead filled with tenderness as they gazed at her injury—as if it were the most important thing in the world.

She stared blankly, her heart swelling with a bittersweet ache, until Yan Qing withdrew her hand and smiled at her. “All done. It’s healing really well.”

“Mhm, mhm.” She hurriedly responded, averting her eyes and lowering her leg. Stuttering, she urged, “Th-thank you. You should go take a shower too. It’s almost nine.”

“Oh? You keep such a healthy schedule?” Yan Qing laughed but didn’t tease her further. After a day of running around, she was probably genuinely tired. She stretched lazily and went to take a shower.

Qin Que sat there in a daze for a while, her mind filled with images of Yan Qing just moments ago. She felt like she needed to do something to distract herself and somehow found herself standing in front of Yan Qing’s desk.

Amidst the colorful array of toys, the most eye-catching was still the fox figurine.

In Qin Que’s eyes, the fox’s squinting smile gradually blurred, transforming into an even more captivating face.

The more she looked, the more similar they seemed. Could it have been modeled after Yan Qing?

Unconsciously, she reached out and brushed her fingers against the fox’s plump, smiling cheeks, giving it a gentle flick.

The figurine’s base made a faint sound as the fox reluctantly tilted to the side. Qin Que finally snapped out of her trance and hastily withdrew her hand, looking around guiltily.

Yan Qing was still in the shower, so naturally, there was no one else in the dorm.

What was wrong with her?

Qin Que repositioned the figurine and slunk back to her own desk.

How could she touch someone else’s things without permission?

There was no one in the dorm, but the cameras were still rolling. And in her flustered state, Qin Que had no idea how many people in Live Stream Room No. 2 were watching her every move.

Comment 1: “Oh no, oh no. The poor child is completely flustered.”

Comment 2: “Qin Que, how can you look so deeply at a fox figurine when your romantic scenes in dramas were such a mess?”

Comment 3: “It’s about the person, not the situation. I’d look just as deeply at Yan Qing.”

Comment 4: “But she applied medicine for me. How could I not die for her?”

Comment 5: “The ‘QinQing’ fan community is recruiting! Plenty of content to feast on—come join us!”

Comment 6: “Has Yan Qing ever acted like this with anyone else? I remember her having a lot of rumors before.”

Comment 7: “No. As a ten-year veteran fan, I can say with absolute certainty that while Yan Qing’s mere greetings have been milked for gossip for months, she’s never been this close with anyone. This is a first—even I’ve never seen her like this.”

Comment 8: “Interview question for the fan above: How do you feel right now?”

Comment 9: “Respect, understand, support. It’s time for her to experience the beauty of love.”

Comment 10: “And then cry silently into her pillow at night, biting her handkerchief.”

In reality, even though the first two seasons of Destined were already top-tier dating shows, this season had effortlessly shattered all previous records. Whether in viewership numbers or online watch time, it had reached unprecedented heights.

Most of this success was thanks to Yan Qing. After all, this was her variety show debut. In Country Z, few people hadn’t seen her movies, and most were curious about the elusive actress. Even if they weren’t fans or didn’t usually watch dating shows, they’d still tune in out of curiosity.

And then, a large portion of them never left.

They’d never encountered such a delicious pairing before. Every day was a feast.

In just two days since the show aired, it had already spawned over thirty trending topics, more than twenty of which were related to Yan Qing and Qin Que.

The biggest beneficiary of this was undoubtedly Qin Que. In just two days, her Weibo followers had doubled and showed no signs of slowing down. Many went back to watch her past dramas, praising every scene except the romantic ones and lamenting how the entertainment industry had wasted such a talented actress for so long.

But the most popular content was still the fan-made edits of her and Yan Qing, which dominated the top three spots on a certain video platform’s trending list.

Bai Tuantuan had been living in a dream these past two days. Staying at a hotel in Fengcheng, her daily routine consisted of checking Qin Que’s skyrocketing follower count and dancing all night in the “QinQing” fan community, vehemently insisting that Que Que wasn’t the submissive type—she just seemed that way.

Her mood was akin to a parent whose child had just gotten into a prestigious university. She was bursting with the urge to share her joy, but with Qin Que unreachable and her being just an assistant, she couldn’t exactly lose it on public platforms. So, she resorted to pestering Wu Feng over the phone.

Wu Feng, amid a noisy background, tersely told her to stay put in Fengcheng before hanging up, leaving Bai Tuantuan no outlet for her excitement.

So, she returned to the internet to vent her emotions. Fortunately, her username was highly misleading—I Am Yan Qing’s Dog.

The ID was sincere, but she swore she wouldn’t fight Qin Que for the title.

Wu Feng, meanwhile, was swamped. The number of script and endorsement offers Qin Que had received in the past two days already surpassed the total from her entire career. The phone hadn’t stopped ringing. After a heated argument in Zhou Qiang’s office earlier that day, she’d managed to borrow a few idle agents to help handle the workload, finally giving her some breathing room.

According to a gossip-loving colleague, her actions had ruffled feathers among Deshun Entertainment’s top earners. But Wu Feng couldn’t be bothered. These days, she even dreamed of negotiating contracts. What kind of joke would it be if Qin Que finally made it big, only for her to drop dead from overwork?

Besides… once Qin Que finished filming this show, she’d never have to kowtow to anyone at Deshun again.

During rare moments of respite, Wu Feng glanced at the screen, where Qin Que was still spacing out, and sighed.

Maybe the world really did reward good people. You’re living the easy life now, but just wait till you’re out—you’ll be working overtime like crazy.

Compared to Wu Feng, Ai Jia’s side was downright peaceful. They already had a large, professional team, and since their troublemaking actress had been shipped off to a dating show to torment Qin Que one-on-one, their only task was to guide fans away from attacking Qin Que—making their workload lighter than usual.

But Ai Jia’s mental state wasn’t great either.

On the first day of the show, Deng Xi had whispered to her, “The boss is being so forward. Look how flustered she’s got the poor girl.”

Ai Jia had brushed it off. “That’s just how she is. Why else would she need to debunk rumors after every film?”

On the second day, Deng Xi placed a cup of coffee on her desk and said nothing, merely smiling at her. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

Ai Jia massaged her temples. “You don’t think she actually wants to date, do you? The girl’s so much younger—how can she even consider it?”

Deng Xi shrugged. “The boss has been single for thirty years. You can’t expect her to stay that way forever.”

Ai Jia grabbed her collar. “I knew it! You guys are scheming behind my back again, aren’t you? Spill it!”

Meanwhile, the other two pairs on the show were performing far below audience expectations compared to pre-show predictions.

The “Instant Noodle Couple” had been locked in a cold war for a day and a half, their push-and-pull tormenting viewers while their respective fanbases clashed fiercely on social media. The shippers, meanwhile, cycled through three different narratives in a single day—from “strangers meeting again” to “rekindled love” to “they’ve already slept together.”

Dai Yuchen and Nie Sijun, on the other hand, dominated the non-QinQing-related trending topics—though the only difference was that Dai Yuchen was getting roasted in all of them.

The contrast was too stark. The short-tempered man on the show bore no resemblance to the domineering CEO from Nie Sijun’s blog. Fans, their illusions shattered, couldn’t bring themselves to direct their anger at the victim, so Dai Yuchen’s pinned Weibo post had been flooded with over a hundred thousand hate comments in two days, making him this year’s most despised celebrity.

At first, it was just a one-sided beatdown. Since Dai Yuchen couldn’t access Weibo to react, the fury eventually fizzled out from sheer monotony. But just as the flames were dying down, Dai Yuchen’s father jumped into the fray. The renowned director penned a 2,000-word essay defending his son, subtly implying that Nie Sijun’s inability to bear children after all these years meant Dai Yuchen’s loyalty was true love.

After half an hour of collective retching, netizens promptly dragged both father and son onto the trending list with the hashtag: “Like father, like son. Just marry each other already.”

Qin Que knew nothing of this. Right now, she was staring at Yan Qing, who had just emerged from the shower, unsure of what to say.

Yan Qing still hadn’t fully dried her hair. The woman seemed drowsy after her bath, listlessly pressing the teeth of a toy alligator on her desk. Her damp, chestnut-brown hair cascaded over her shoulders, looking soft and touchable.

If she brought it up, would Yan Qing think she was treating her like a child again?

After a moment of hesitation, Qin Que’s concern for Yan Qing won out. “Um, if you don’t dry your hair properly, it might make your shoulders ache.”

“Hmm? Is that some kind of folk remedy?” Yan Qing glanced at her blearily, her voice soft with exhaustion.

“Uh, maybe.” Qin Que felt a little awkward. She’d never actually verified this—her mother had just stated it so confidently.

“Too tired. Don’t wanna dry it.” Yan Qing slumped over the desk like a boneless creature. Her hair tended to frizz if blow-dried completely, so she usually left it half-dry to air out. But right now, she was genuinely too sleepy to bother with the hairdryer.

Qin Que looked at the tall woman sprawled across the desk like a child throwing a tantrum, her heart softening. She stopped worrying about their status difference.

“Do you want me to dry it for you?”

“Okay…”

The woman’s muffled reply gave no indication of whether she’d even processed the question.

Qin Que fetched the hairdryer from the bathroom, plugged it in near Yan Qing’s desk, and then hesitated.

She couldn’t very well blow-dry Yan Qing’s hair while the latter was lying down. But Yan Qing’s eyes were already barely open.

“Yan Qing, Yan Qing. Sit up a little.” She called softly, afraid of disturbing her.

“Mhm.” Yan Qing responded vaguely, pushing herself up—only to tip backward.

Qin Que quickly braced herself to stop the woman from toppling over.

And then Yan Qing just leaned against her, motionless.

The scent of Yan Qing’s pheromones was even purer and stronger after the shower. Her slender back pressed tightly against Qin Que, the thin layers of their sleepwear doing little to block the heat between them.

In her panic, Qin Que had grabbed Yan Qing’s shoulders, even brushing against the delicate skin of her neck. She yanked her hands away as if burned, stammering, “Y-you should sit properly.”

“Just do it like this,” Yan Qing murmured, still leaning against her shamelessly, even urging impatiently, “Hurry up.”

Yan Qing was an incredibly alluring person. Even now, dressed in a cartoonish nightgown with no makeup, her charm as a mature woman remained undiminished.

Qin Que’s rapidly accelerating heartbeat was proof of that.

Yet, at the same time, Yan Qing’s expression was so peaceful and docile, nestled trustingly in her arms, all her usual sharp wit replaced by utter vulnerability.

Qin Que, entrusted with such trust, felt deeply ashamed. Reciting Ohm’s Law in her head, she tremblingly gathered Yan Qing’s hair and turned on the hairdryer.

The texture of Yan Qing’s hair was even better than she’d imagined—soft yet thick and silky. Strands fluttered apart under the warm airflow, slipping through her fingers like weightless dandelion seeds.

Lost in a drowsy haze, Yan Qing felt the breeze against her ears and the milky alpha pheromones enveloping her—yet she felt no aversion to them.

Gentle fingers carded through her hair, reminiscent of childhood naps in her mother’s arms, being lulled to sleep by soothing strokes.

This embrace behind her felt even sturdier.

Yan Qing nestled closer. She knew she wouldn’t fall.