Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 2

2:

The thick heat of summer rushed at her face. The scorching sun hung high, making everything under its glare painfully bright. Yan Qingqiu stood at the entrance, a thin layer of sweat forming on her forehead.

She desperately wished she could go back in time and slap some sense into her past self.

But was this really her fault? Who wouldn’t go wild with those choices in games?

Clearly, the game had set a honey trap—luring her in with a beautiful woman, making her let loose and indulge.

Afraid of wasting time, she suppressed her frustration and took three seconds to steady her breathing. Then she glanced at the butler, who seemed to “understand everything perfectly.”

At the very least, she needed to grasp the situation to avoid looking like a lunatic.

Know thy enemy—if she was about to die, she should at least know who to run from.

“What’s my relationship with them?”

Before the butler could answer, Yan Qingqiu cut in, “Describe it at double your usual speed.”

The butler didn’t find her behavior odd, the young mistress had always been eccentric. He sped up: “Fu Ye is your fiancé, set to marry you soon. He was once infatuated with Miss Song Qingre and frequently confessed his love to her from afar. Today, without informing you, he secretly met with Miss Song. You adore him, yet he wants to have both the rose and the moonlight, clinging to his past feelings. It’s despicable.”

Finished, he paused, slightly puzzled.

Why did the young mistress want to hear this?

He turned to look and saw her clenching her fists, face taut—clearly building up rage.

The butler added, “Miss Song only returned to the country a few days ago…”

“Song Qingre…” Yan Qingqiu repeated the name.

Even the name sounded intimidating.

“Wait here. I’m going to smash his stupid head in.”

“From what I know, Miss Song Qingre owns a Doberman,” the butler mused, already weaving a subplot in his head—Fu Ye must have been careless, leaving dog hair at home that their young mistress had discovered.

Confused, he asked, “What are you planning to do?”

Time was running out for Yan Qingqiu. She couldn’t afford to hesitate.

As she strode forward, she asked the system:
[Is there any shortcut?]

System: [Not at the moment. You didn’t seem interested in shortcuts earlier, you wanted to handle these tasks personally.]

Of course she had.

Beating up a scumbag and kissing a beauty, who’d dare do that in real life? She’d only wanted to enjoy herself in a game.

But now the game had become reality, and her life was on the line.

The butler watched as the young mistress stormed into the café with fierce determination.

Fu Ye, with his back to her, remained oblivious. But the beautiful woman had been watching Yan Qingqiu the entire time. With each step closer, her stunning features grew clearer in Yan Qingqiu’s vision.

Reality was vastly different from the game. The beauty here was alive, every glance and smile brimming with vitality. A few hours ago, Yan Qingqiu had been entranced, eager to see Song Qingre lose control, to take things further, to play with her body. Now, she just wanted…

She was still thinking about those lips.

With each step, her mind raced with possibilities. How could she get close enough to kiss Song Qingre? Should she play coy and throw herself into her arms, begging for a kiss? But that would be too out of character. Would Song Qingre shove her away and smash her head in instead? Would she make it a habit to beat her up on sight?

“Really? Then who do you think is better, her or me?” Song Qingre’s tone was casual, as if merely humoring Fu Ye’s words, but it carried clearly to Yan Qingqiu’s ears.

Fu Ye, however, was visibly stirred. Without hesitation, he gazed at Song Qingre with earnest affection and said, “You.”

“And what about her?”

“Qingqiu? She’s the same as always—willful, immature. You’ve always held a special place in my heart. Truly, you’re one of a kind.”

The implication was clear: the white moonlight was untouchable, but if it ever returned, the rose by his side would mean nothing.

What a bastard. “One of a kind,” my foot.

Fu Ye was still speaking when a sudden chill crept up his spine. Before he could turn, a high heel struck him square on the forehead. He hissed in pain, vision swimming as Yan Qingqiu swung the shoe at his shoulder. What kind of idiot was this? She couldn’t stand listening to another word. Beating him up was practically a public service.

“Yan—ah! Qingqiu, let me explain—” Fu Ye raised his arms to block, but even his hands stung from the blows. “Let go!”

Yan Qingqiu rained down strikes, her body heating up from the exertion. But Fu Ye’s neck remained stubbornly straight. He even managed to grab her wrist, squeezing hard enough to make her bones creak.

“You’ve misunderstood.” He glared at her, as if he were the wronged party. “Stop making a scene.”

“I’m hitting you because you’re trash!”

She smacked him again with the shoe, but this time he blocked her completely. Fu Ye, seeing stars, shoved her away and raised his hand as if to slap her. Barefoot, Yan Qingqiu stumbled back, barely catching herself on a table. The shoe clattered to the ground.

When she looked up, she met the gaze of the woman across from them.

Song Qingre had been observing the entire time like a detached spectator, her fingers curled around her coffee cup, thumb brushing the porcelain rim. Amusement glinted in her eyes, as if watching a particularly entertaining show.

Thinking of her second task, Yan Qingqiu “accidentally” collapsed onto the seat beside Song Qingre. A faint citrus fragrance wafted over, teasing her senses.

Song Qingre didn’t move. After a few seconds, she tilted her head to look at Yan Qingqiu—her expression a perfect match for the description from the first question: “Eyes shimmering, lips glistening.”

So this was what it looked like in real life…

Steeling herself, Yan Qingqiu leaned in abruptly.

But just then, Song Qingre’s lashes fluttered. She raised a hand between them, stopping Yan Qingqiu’s advance. Her fingers, warmed from holding the coffee cup, pressed firmly against Yan Qingqiu’s lips.

Yan Qingqiu’s face burned.

This was… strange.

“Planning to hit me too?” Song Qingre asked, voice laced with curiosity.

Even without the game’s exaggerated allure, her voice was unmistakable—Yan Qingqiu realized the in-game voice hadn’t been a professional voice actor. It was Song Qingre’s real voice.

Lazy, magnetic—it made Yan Qingqiu’s skin prickle with heat. She pushed forward, trying to sound gentle. “Move your hand.”

But to outsiders, it looked like she was gritting her teeth, ready to devour someone. Fu Ye couldn’t tolerate her tantrum any longer. “Yan Qingqiu, stop! Who are you trying to intimidate?”

Ignoring him, Yan Qingqiu focused on Song Qingre. The finger still barred her way. She leaned down further until her lips brushed against it.

Contact.

Song Qingre’s brow arched. “Hmm?”

Yan Qingqiu’s eyelashes trembled. She was terrified of Song Qingre, this woman could seduce players and then murder them without hesitation.

“My… my hand hurts,” she whispered.

“Oh.” Song Qingre nodded.

“…”

Yan Qingqiu bit her lip and leaned in again, deliberately grazing her lips and chin against those slender fingers. Song Qingre’s eyes flickered. Yan Qingqiu shifted closer, her arm scraping against the booth with a soft sound.

Song Qingre met her gaze calmly. Slowly, Yan Qingqiu’s ears turned red—burning.

System: [Three minutes left. Friendly reminder: the kiss needs to last at least two minutes to count as “until breathless.”]

Time was slipping away.

Yan Qingqiu couldn’t strategize anymore.

Looking at the female lead now, she felt a pang of misery. She wanted to cry. Forget “breathless”, she’d never even kissed anyone before. She’d never been in a relationship.

Her gaze dropped to Song Qingre’s nose.

Maybe instead of playing coy, she should just pinch it shut and kiss her forcefully. Without air, Song Qingre would surely suffocate.

“What are you thinking?” Song Qingre saw right through her. She pressed a palm to Yan Qingqiu’s forehead and pushed her back slightly.

To Fu Ye, Yan Qingqiu’s earlier actions had seemed outright vicious. Her expression had been so twisted that he stood up, ready to drag her away and shield Song Qingre.

Yan Qingqiu swung at him again.

“Again?” Fu Ye turned, his voice icy. “Yan Qingqiu, my patience has limits.”

The café was elegant, with a grand piano at its center. The music had stopped the moment Yan Qingqiu stormed in. Now, the entire place held its breath, watching the drama unfold.

Yan Qingqiu lifted her chin, her beautiful face full of mockery. Combined with her earlier actions, she looked like a spoiled, unreasonable brat who did as she pleased.

In reality, she was panicking internally.

The humiliated Fu Ye clearly couldn’t back down now. The system’s reminder chimed again, urging her to hurry.

Fu Ye’s voice was low. “Don’t force me to call off—”

“The engagement!” Yan Qingqiu cut in.

Fu Ye froze. “Do you realize what you’re saying?” His brows furrowed. “Think carefully. If you beg me later, no amount of tantrums will make me marry you.”

Yan Qingqiu wasn’t listening. She studied his face, the kind of handsomeness novels described as “rare and breathtaking.” Now she understood why domineering CEOs in stories always had a face.

What a scumbag. His head was practically reinforced steel—no matter how hard she hit, it wouldn’t budge.

Her palm ached from the effort, burning.

Fu Ye stepped forward, trying to grab her wrist and drag her away before she caused more of a scene. Yan Qingqiu instinctively recoiled. “Don’t touch me.”

His face darkened. He turned to Song Qingre. “I’ll contact you later about the exhibition. I apologize for today.”

Then he glared at Yan Qingqiu. “I’ll have a serious talk with your parents. You’re utterly unreasonable.”

Adjusting his suit cuffs, he turned away coldly. “Mark my words, Yan Qingqiu, you’ll come crawling back. Your family’s business… Just wait.”

Yan Qingqiu was livid. Cheating was bad enough, but now he was threatening her?

Her ears rang with the system’s notifications.

[Apologies, Host. You have not completed Task ①.]

[Countdown initiated!]

[100 seconds.]

She didn’t need the system to tell her, she already knew.

After all…

Fu Ye was walking away with his head still perfectly straight.

What a stubborn neck!

Furious but still rational, Yan Qingqiu resisted the urge to aim for his skull. If she killed him, surviving would just land her in prison.

System: [Try striking his shoulder. Fu Ye’s weak point seems to be there.]

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

Self-preservation was human nature.

She sprinted after Fu Ye. Hearing the commotion, he stopped, expecting her to beg for forgiveness. Yan Qingqiu mustered all her strength, rose slightly on her toes, and—following the system’s hint—brought her hand down in a sharp chop.

Just to be safe, she did it again. And again.

Everyone in the café watched as the usually capricious Yan family heiress hacked at Fu Ye’s shoulder like she was trying to decapitate him.

Other couples fought with playful punches.

But Yan Qingqiu? She was out for bl00d.

Even Song Qingre, who had been calmly spectating, let a faint smile curl her lips.

When chopping failed, Yan Qingqiu resorted to punching.

Damn it, she was too worked up. Beating up a scumbag was addictive.

Fu Ye, who had been standing tall, finally wavered. When he tried to turn his head, his waist buckled. He grabbed a table for support, but it was no use—his neck slowly, inexorably… tilted to the side.

Not only did his cervical spine hurt, but his lumbar region seemed to have given out too.

In front of everyone, his neck just… crooked.

He tried to straighten it, but the pain was unbearable.

“?”

No amount of good looks could salvage a tilted head. Fu Ye stared at Yan Qingqiu in disbelief, his mouth working soundlessly. When he glanced around, he found everyone else staring at him the same way.

Yan Qingqiu panted heavily, her mind flooded with the system’s [Congratulations] and [Keep it up!]

Song Qingre, as if satisfied with the show, stood to leave. Yan Qingqiu lunged forward and grabbed her arm.

The two brushed past Fu Ye.

His neck twinged when he tried to follow their movement.

Blinking through the pain, he watched as Yan Qingqiu—instead of walking away—suddenly lost her balance and stumbled backward. Song Qingre reacted swiftly, catching her by the waist.

But as Song Qingre steadied her, Yan Qingqiu seized the moment to shove her against the wall. Gripping her shoulders, Yan Qingqiu leaned in urgently and pressed their lips together.

With his neck still tilted, Fu Ye’s view was skewed.

Sunlight streamed through the café’s entrance, bathing the two women in gold. Yan Qingqiu’s white dress tangled with Song Qingre’s black velvet.

As the white fabric encroached further, Song Qingre stepped back—only for her long legs to trap the fluttering hem of Yan Qingqiu’s skirt.

The scene was breathtaking.

But that wasn’t the point.

The point was, Yan Qingqiu had gone too far!

She’d actually kissed Song Qingre?!

Yan Qingqiu also felt she’d crossed a line. Her heart pounded so violently her chest ached. If she broke the kiss now, she might drop dead on the spot.

She didn’t want to die. This kiss was her lifeline.

But if their lips parted, she was done for.

Fortunately, Song Qingre didn’t push her away.

The citrus scent grew stronger, stirring a thirst in Yan Qingqiu—a desire to sink her teeth in and taste the juice.

Even in the face of death, shame still existed.

Internally weeping, externally blushing, Yan Qingqiu’s only thought was: So sweet.

She inhaled deeply, her breath warming Song Qingre’s skin. Song Qingre’s eyes remained steady until Yan Qingqiu’s breathing slowed. Then, slowly, her long lashes fluttered.

“Kissing the white moonlight until she’s breathless” was far harder than “smashing the scumbag’s head in.”

Song Qingre’s fingers drifted from Yan Qingqiu’s waist to her chest, pushing her back gently. When their lips parted slightly, her voice was soft, her breath brushing Yan Qingqiu’s lower lip.

“Still not letting go?”

Yan Qingqiu’s heart ached. She pressed closer. “No. Never.”