Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 11
11:
Dealing with lovestruck idiots was child’s play. Yan Qingqiu’s performance had been so convincing that no one could tell she was scamming Luo Xi.
Luo Xi, thoroughly pleased with herself, hurled a string of insults at her.
Yan Qingqiu’s fists clenched tighter.
Su Xingjie grabbed her wrist, pulling her back.
“Enough, Qiu-bao. Ignore her. Don’t start a fight.”
Without Su Xingjie’s intervention, Yan Qingqiu might have lunged to claw Luo Xi’s face off. Luo Xi deliberately tossed her card at an assistant. “Go. Tag this painting with my name.”
The assistant glanced between Yan Qingqiu and Luo Xi, paralyzed—neither was someone they could afford to offend.
“Xiao Xue, mark the painting for Miss Luo. I’ll handle this.” Song Qingre stepped between them, resting a hand on Yan Qingqiu’s shoulder. Yan Qingqiu instinctively trembled, leaning into her embrace before catching herself. To save face, she tilted her chin at Luo Xi. “You’ll pay for this.”
Luo Xi wasn’t about to wait. She pointed at several paintings in rapid succession, buying them all without hesitation—a mere million was pocket change to her.
Song Qingre patted Yan Qingqiu’s shoulder. “Enough.” Slipping an arm around her, she led her away, forcing Su Xingjie to release Yan Qingqiu’s wrist.
Su Xingjie frowned. Something felt off.
With the crowd watching, Yan Qingqiu’s secretary and Song Qingre’s assistant smoothed things over. “It’s inevitable, Qingre’s work is too exceptional. Everyone wants a piece.”
“Every piece here is a masterpiece. Who knew they’d spark such competition? Our apologies.”
The paintings would go to Luo Xi, but how to appease the other party? Offending either was unwise.
Tsk.
The forced kiss incident was an open secret, trending hotter than Yan Qingqiu punching Fu Ye—until someone paid to suppress it.
Song Qingre guided Yan Qingqiu to a secluded sofa, crouching slightly. “No more tears. Let me show you other paintings?”
The kindness in her voice made Yan Qingqiu’s chest ache. If only she had the money to buy everything outright…
“No need. I’m not upset.”
So immersed in her role, actual tears spilled over.
“I was faking it,” Yan Qingqiu hastily added.
“Mm. You’re smarter than her.”
Song Qingre smiled, offering a tissue. When Yan Qingqiu didn’t take it, she gently dabbed her cheeks.
The tenderness sent Yan Qingqiu’s heart racing like she’d downed five espressos. Too sweet. Too dangerous.
Her nape prickled, premonition of another impending fever.
“Pick any painting you like. My gift.” Song Qingre’s whisper was velvet. “Your choice.”
Yan Qingqiu’s eyes lit up at a nearby piece. “How about this? I’ll take one painting to cancel the 1 million debt. Clean slate.”
“Ah? No.” Song Qingre shook her head. “Money is money, art is art. A gift is gratitude, not a transaction. We artists have principles. This is insulting.”
“Wh—how is this insulting? It’s reciprocity!” Yan Qingqiu stammered. “A peaceful resolution.”
“Oh? You lend me 1 million, help sell my paintings, then… wait, is this about that kiss? Are you running a charity?”
Song Qingre sighed dramatically. “Fine. Since you’ve sacrificed so much, I’ll offer myself tonight. Do as you please.”
“…”
Yan Qingqiu pressed her lips together, eyeing Song Qingre’s outfit. “Just return the money. Let’s keep this purely financial.”
A chuckle escaped Song Qingre. “Then name your reward. My thanks for today.” Her voice dropped. “I know you helped me.”
Yan Qingqiu wasn’t foolish enough to refuse compensation—like freebies with purchases, it might prove lifesaving.
She nodded. “Go entertain your guests. I need space.”
“Who’s space?”
The dad joke caught Yan Qingqiu off guard, corny yet unexpectedly funny.
Su Xingjie approached, bewildered by their dynamic. “We should buy paintings. I’ll take over here.”
Song Qingre’s assistant arrived, summoning her to greet collectors. Rising, Song Qingre said, “Xiao Xue, fetch two glasses of water.”
Post-departure, staff brought beverages: citrus sparkling water in a triangular glass with a straw for Yan Qingqiu, plain tea for Su Xingjie.
“?” The favoritism?!
At the exhibition’s centerpiece two unpriced paintings, Yan Qingqiu scoffed at one depicting snowflakes. “This is art? I could paint this!”
The other, the rose-and-plum tree piece, captivated her.
A staff member explained, “This was Qingre’s earliest university work, her most cherished. It won three gold awards.”
When asked the price, they shook their heads. Not for sale.
Luo Xi strutted past, having purchased four paintings, reveling in her victory.
Yan Qingqiu tsked internally. Such potential wasted on simping.
Calculating sales totals, Yan Qingqiu estimated Song Qingre’s earnings: 3 million. Enough to repay the 1 million? Maybe. But startup costs…
Not enough.
In the powder room, Su Xingjie eyed her. “Qiu-bao, Song Qingre acts… different around you.”
“Nonsense.”
Yan Qingqiu rarely wore makeup in her past life, luxuries were unaffordable.
Su Xingjie offered a new lipstick. Spotting a measuring tape in her bag, Yan Qingqiu said, “Lend me that.”
“Measuring your bust?” Su Xingjie knew her size intimately as her frequent tailor. “Wait, you’ve grown?! Almost matching me now.”
Panicked, Yan Qingqiu checked Su Xingjie’s stats. “Almost”? How arrogant.
She didn’t mention how her chest swelled painfully whenever near Song Qingre.
Two centimeters larger. God.
The door opened.
Song Qingre stood there, eyes narrowed.
Yan Qingqiu straightened instantly.
Song Qingre’s gaze swept them before she wordlessly touched up her lipstick. Exiting, she cast a final, inscrutable look at Yan Qingqiu—lingering on her chest—and nodded.
Su Xingjie whispered, “Was she mocking your cup size? Or warning you against cheating?”
Yan Qingqiu gaped. That obvious?
“Very. She used to ignore us. Now she checks you out head-to-toe but only looks at my face. Blatant discrimination.”
“What if yours is small?”
Su Xingjie glanced down. “Qiu-bao, I’m an omega. Naturally better-endowed than you alphas.”
“Fine, I’ll confess.”
“Making peace with Song Qingre?” Su Xingjie recalled the kiss scandal. “Or… something more?”
“Don’t be absurd!” Yan Qingqiu pulled her close, adopting her villain persona. “I’m enslaving her! Making her my plaything!”
“That’s cruel.” Su Xingjie warned, “If she turns the tables, you’re dead.”
“Don’t jinx it.”
Exiting, they nearly collided with Song Qingre—who hadn’t left.
“Having fun?” Song Qingre’s smile was indecipherable.
“Huh?”
Yan Qingqiu’s breath hitched. Recovering, she bluffed, “Lots. My only hobby: admiring generous chests.”
Perfect. As an alpha, Song Qingre couldn’t match an omega’s assets. She’d reject the contract citing “incompatible preferences.” Problem solved.
The three-day exhibition concluded at dusk.
Outside, Yan Qingqiu found her car missing. Calling the butler, she learned: “Miss Song said you demanded she drive you home, or else.”
That’s my tone, but I never said that! Butler, you traitor!
Song Qingre approached, exhaustion lining her features. Jangling keys, she said, “Let’s discuss the contract.”
Su Xingjie, shocked Song Qingre had been living with Yan Qingqiu, offered, “Stay at my place?”
Yan Qingqiu nearly accepted.
Song Qingre started the car, window down. “About those payments today… Could I buy out the contract terms? I’d rather not be… played with.”
“Deal.” Yan Qingqiu jumped at the out. “Business first, Xingjie.”
Buckling in, she sensed Song Qingre’s anger.
Over the chest comment? Unlikely…
The car accelerated, then slowed as night fell.
“Thank you for today,” Song Qingre said wearily. “Luo Xi and Fu Ye wanted my exhibition to fail, so he could control me.”
The male lead is vile. Being the heroine sucks.
Mid-drive, Song Qingre parked abruptly.
“Why stop?” Yan Qingqiu asked.
Song Qingre drummed the steering wheel. “I planned to give you paintings… but you prefer this. My oversight, given your… appetites.”
“?”
The glove compartment popped open, spilling measuring tapes.
Yan Qingqiu recoiled. “You—an artist—have no shame!”
“Art scorns superficiality, not the flesh.”
“???”
“Though you defile my body, my soul remains pure.”
“I—that’s not—” Yan Qingqiu pointed at the contract. “You promised repayment!”
“Separate from rewards.” Song Qingre’s gaze raked over her. “Qingqiu… the mood is set.”
Her fingers slid along the wheel, eyes locking onto Yan Qingqiu’s.
“Unless… you can’t perform?”