Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 21
21(1):
Yan Qingqiu was seriously warning Song Qingre, she was not joking around. That slap from Song Qingre hurt, and if she dared hit her again, Yan Qingqiu would tell Mr. Yan without hesitation, letting her father deal with her.
But she never imagined Song Qingre could be even more outrageous. She grabbed Yan Qingqiu’s hand, her other hand protecting her stomach, and lifted her like a chick, tossing her onto the bed. As Yan Qingqiu landed, a flood of pheromones crashed over her.
She initially had the strength to flip over, but the moment her nape touched the pillow, her body reacted instinctively. Her legs went weak, and the fierce energy she had a second ago vanished. Her footing slipped, and she fell heavily from the bed to the floor.
Squinting, Yan Qingqiu tried to prop herself up with her elbows, but lacked the strength and collapsed again. Still, she gritted her teeth and stood, seething inside. If it weren’t for her Omega physique and heat-prone state, she could’ve knocked Song Qingre flat.
An Omega’s body was just too soft!
Seeing this, Song Qingre worried she’d hurt herself. She quickly rounded the bed, crouching to check on her, gently rubbing her knee. “Stop tossing around. Aren’t you afraid someone will find out… about your Alpha identity, think you’re too Alpha, and have bad intentions?”
Yan Qingqiu looked up suspiciously. Those words from Song Qingre’s mouth were unbelievable, she sensed something off about her. Not being foolish, she took the chance to back down.
Song Qingre blew softly on her knee. “Does it still hurt?”
Her leg felt tingly, her skin burning.
Yan Qingqiu pulled her leg back, but the Alpha aura around her was too intense. She couldn’t resist kicking at Song Qingre, who swiftly caught her leg.
“Stop it. If I kick back, you’ll roll across the floor.”
Yan Qingqiu wanted to curse her but held back, remembering her strength.
Sneaking a glance, she saw Song Qingre with one knee on the ground, the other supporting her arm, in a single-knee kneeling posture.
Her lashes fluttered, light as butterfly wings.
Their gazes met, the invasiveness intense, proportional to her gentleness. The softer she appeared, the more predatory her stare.
Yan Qingqiu instinctively shrank back. Song Qingre used subtle force to hold her in place, saying softly, “Move again, and I’ll tie you up and toss you on the bed.”
“You…” Yan Qingqiu wanted to move but didn’t dare. Her skin was hypersensitive from Song Qingre’s touch. Propping herself on the floor, she inched back. Song Qingre didn’t seem to be merely threatening—she grabbed a hair tie from the bedside table, binding Yan Qingqiu’s hands. “I’ll really do it.”
Yan Qingqiu seized the chance to kick her again, defiantly threatening, “This won’t do. If people see you tying me up, and someone comes up and does something to me, I won’t be able to fight back… You’ll be done for.”
“No worries. I’ll guard you,” Song Qingre said, securing the tie and holding her still.
Song Qingre tilted her head, gesturing toward the balcony where an easel stood. She leaned forward, her fingers brushing Yan Qingqiu’s cheek. “Be good, or I’ll tie you to the bed and paint you.”
The threat worked, Yan Qingqiu’s defiance fizzled out.
Song Qingre’s gentleness was like a calm lake, clear to the bottom, but step in, and you might sink into mud or cut your foot on sharp stones.
Song Qingre stood, offering her hand to pull Yan Qingqiu up. Yan Qingqiu didn’t comply, sitting stubbornly on the floor in protest. She twisted her wrist, undoing the hair tie, but tugged too hard, snapping it against her hand.
During this, her phone rang, showing Su Xingjie’s name. Yan Qingqiu’s eyes darted, noting Song Qingre’s expression.
Song Qingre said generously, “Answer it. It’s fine.”
Yan Qingqiu wasn’t stupid, answering the call would cause trouble. How would she explain where she was to Su Xingjie?
She hung up decisively, pinching her skirt, feeling a certain spot heat up uncomfortably. “I’m going back.”
To Song Qingre, that sounded like, “I’m going to find Su Xingjie.” Her blinking slowed, as if staring her down. “Qiuqiu, I’ve always been curious. Why are you so close with Su Xingjie, playing with her, but you hate me so much…”
Yan Qingqiu froze, her toes tapping the dark yellow floor. She didn’t understand why Song Qingre asked this suddenly, nor could she explain. “She” probably didn’t know Song Qingre was the female lead, right?
Why target Song Qingre? Even burning her hard-earned painting? Song Qingre held a grudge, and Yan Qingqiu found it excessive too.
Was it because one was the protagonist and the other a side character, their auras naturally clashing?
Or was it the game’s mechanics, forcing the side character to follow a scripted task?
Thinking deeply, Yan Qingqiu’s soul trembled.
Switching perspectives, she racked her brain and came up with an answer. “Because back then, I was blind and liked Fu Ye, but he liked you, so I hated you. I was young and took it out on you. Isn’t that normal?”
As she spoke, she observed Song Qingre, who sat on the bed, shoes on the floor, leaning slightly to look at her, her face expressionless. Yan Qingqiu felt seen through…
She couldn’t continue, avoiding Song Qingre’s gaze.
Song Qingre said, “Qiuqiu, you’re lying right now.”
Yan Qingqiu choked, not understanding the cryptic remark.
Her body went cold… Did I slip up?
But Song Qingre suddenly became magnanimous. “Admit you were wrong, and I’ll let you go.”
It sounded simple, but for Yan Qingqiu, it was impossibly hard. She bit her lip. “Why should I? I’m not wrong. You’re the weirdo locking me up.”
Song Qingre had her pegged. “Then I can’t let you go. But I can make an exception and let you rest on my bed.”
“I’m a proper person. Who’d go on your bed?” Yan Qingqiu wasn’t falling for it. The bed was the strongest source of pheromones. If she climbed onto Song Qingre’s bed, she’d probably need to be carried out later.
Song Qingre stood, placing a chair beside her. “Don’t sit on the floor. You’ll dirty your white dress. How will you pick up your dad later?”
Her lips carried a deliberate scare.
In Yan Qingqiu’s stubborn way, she could’ve said, “You haven’t even snitched to Dad yet.” Instead, she just glanced at Song Qingre. Seeing she wouldn’t sit, Song Qingre didn’t force her, grabbing a cushion for her instead.
After setting everything up, Song Qingre closed the door and left. Yan Qingqiu didn’t bother pounding on it, she wouldn’t do something so humiliating. She stood, inspecting the room, figuring she might as well search for plot clues since Song Qingre locked her in.
If Song Qingre was locking her up, she wouldn’t be polite.
Song Qingre usually cleaned her own room. The maids only washed sheets, blankets, and mopped the floor, leaving other items untouched.
The room was minimalist, almost bare.
The bookshelf held several art books. Yan Qingqiu flipped through a few, then peeked at Song Qingre’s wardrobe. She didn’t dare rummage, worried she couldn’t restore it. Finally, she opened a drawer and found a box.
It looked like a childhood candy tin for White Rabbit candies. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she opened it, finding many cards with childish handwriting. Yan Qingqiu grabbed a pen and scrap paper from the desk, writing a few words to compare.
The handwriting was very similar.
The cards were yellowed, fragile from age, and would crumble if handled roughly. They were filled with holiday greetings:
[Happy Mid-Autumn Festival, Miss Song. Come to my house to make mooncakes. Wishing Song Qingre happiness every day and beauty surpassing Chang’e!]
[Happy Birthday, Happy Valentine’s Day! Double holidays, double happiness. May all the world’s luck bless you. Spend Valentine’s Day with me! I love you. Mwah mwah mwah~]
[Math’s not my thing, but I can say 520. My English isn’t great, but I can say I love you. History’s not my forte, but I’d conquer the world for you, choosing only you among thousands. My Chinese isn’t great, but I can say, “I love you like a mouse loves rice.” Geography’s not my strength, but my heart is your colony!]
Some cards had torn, crumpled edges, carefully flattened by their collector but still bearing wrinkles.
[Can I join your high school camping trip? I’ll stay in your tent and not go out. This is an order—you can’t resist.]
[Tomorrow at 8:30, I’ll climb over to your house. We’ll watch a movie, and you’ll take me to try pufferfish. I want to eat that thing.]
Some cards lacked dates but were signed boldly: “Qiu’er~”
—
Song Qingre stepped out, took a few calls, and by noon, asked the doctor about Yan Qingqiu’s gland. The doctor was tight-lipped, revealing nothing.
The housekeeper asked, “What’s wrong? Is something up with Miss’s gland?”
Song Qingre, cryptic as ever, said, “We’ll see when the report comes out.”
Someone was always watching Song Qingre. Su Xingjie, sitting in the living room, tracked her every move.
After handling things, Song Qingre brought iced fruit upstairs, expecting Yan Qingqiu to have returned to her room. But Yan Qingqiu was still on the floor, asleep, having rolled from one side to the other. Her breathing was even, her forehead lightly sweaty, one leg bent and raised, her arm tucked under a pillow. Her skirt had ridden up to her waist, possibly pulled up by herself, her legs fully exposed.
Song Qingre paused at the door for half a minute, then closed it and crouched beside her, patting her shoulder. Yan Qingqiu didn’t stir. Song Qingre reached to lift her, but she still didn’t wake, rolling onto her back.
Her breaths were hot and heavy.
Song Qingre had read that secondary differentiation was tough. Many sought an Alpha to mark them early, losing control and begging for it.
Yan Qingqiu was stubborn. Others would’ve melted into a puddle, but she endured until the mature phase.
So soft yet so tough.
Trying to lift her again, Song Qingre sensed something off. Pinching her leg, she glanced down, realizing why Yan Qingqiu kept wanting to leave—she was soaked…
“Sorry, I didn’t notice.” Song Qingre brushed her messy hair behind her ear, her fingers gently tracing her cheek’s contour, careful not to hurt her.
Her hair clung messily to her face, light and shadow falling on her cheeks.
Her fingers nearly touched her lips, just millimeters away.
Yan Qingqiu mumbled something, her face flushed from the sun. She rolled over, back to Song Qingre, and kept sleeping.
Song Qingre couldn’t watch anymore. Standing, she noticed Yan Qingqiu clutching a strawberry hair tie.
She stared for a long time, looking out the window. They say in dreams, windows show distorted otherworldly spaces.
The rectangular window was perfectly straight.
Closing the door, she told the housekeeper, “She’s asleep. Probably worried about Uncle all day yesterday.”
“Miss Su’s still waiting downstairs,” the housekeeper said.
“I’ll tell her.” Song Qingre went down, sitting on the sofa beside Su Xingjie. Her long legs bumped the coffee table, so she parted them slightly. “Qiuqiu’s asleep in my room. If you want to stay and hang out, I can arrange a room for you to rest.”
“She’s asleep in your room?” Su Xingjie caught the key detail, shocked. “Why’s she asleep in your room?”
Song Qingre didn’t answer.
But Su Xingjie was skeptical, looking upstairs. She stood to check, but Song Qingre added, “Maybe my room smells nice. Ask her when she wakes up.”
Su Xingjie wasn’t naive. Song Qingre probably locked Yan Qingqiu in, and Yan Qingqiu, prideful, would get mad if confronted directly.
“She didn’t sleep well last night. If you disturb her now, she’ll wake up humiliated and miserable,” Song Qingre said gently, her tone baffling.
Logically, both were guests, but there was a hierarchy. Su Xingjie felt like the only guest here.
In school, Su Xingjie didn’t dislike Song Qingre. She often played with her and Yan Qingqiu, even buying extra candy for her.
Things changed later. Influenced by Yan Qingqiu’s shift, they grew to dislike each other.
Sometimes, Su Xingjie felt regret. Adulthood was a dividing line, splitting childhood bonds and adult rationality. They’d all crossed it, but each took a different path, their natures changing.
Song Qingre went abroad, but she was like a marker, a signpost, always in Yan Qingqiu’s face, making her increasingly resentful.
This regret accumulated over years. Yan Qingqiu’s attitude never softened, but Su Xingjie was glad she was better off than Song Qingre, still able to be friends with Yan Qingqiu.
Upstairs, Yan Qingqiu slept for an hour. Shortly after Song Qingre left, she woke up, sweaty but comfortable, like soaking in fruit juice. Lifting her arm, she sniffed—her body was full of citrus scent, so fragrant.
So cozy, her body soft.
It felt like she’d been caressed inside and out, satisfied.
Not seeing Song Qingre, she cautiously pushed the door. If it was still locked… Oh, it opened.
Yan Qingqiu closed it again, tiptoeing back to her room.
Reaching her room, she sighed in relief, tugging at her clothes and hurrying to the bathroom to shower.
Changing her underwear, she reviewed the day’s events. She’d nearly messed up, but thankfully, only her pants got wet—her cover wasn’t blown!
—
At noon, the medical team stayed for lunch. Since Mr. Yan hadn’t returned, Yan Qingqiu sat at the head of the table, politely hosting everyone. She didn’t eat much, just sipping porridge. Dr. Qiao, who checked her gland, sat close, her glances seeming to carry hidden meaning.
After the meal, the maids cleaned up. Dr. Qiao, about to leave, came back to whisper, “Add my number. I’ll notify you for a follow-up. Take it seriously.”
Afraid others might hear, Yan Qingqiu nodded vigorously. “Thank you, Doctor.”
Su Xingjie approached, wanting to ask what was up, but the living room phone rang. The housekeeper answered, spoke briefly, and smiled at Yan Qingqiu. “Miss, Sir’s coming back. His plane lands in half an hour.”
Yan Qingqiu froze for half a minute, clutching her skirt, her voice softening. “Do I need to pick him up?”
“I’ll prepare the car,” the housekeeper said.
Yan Qingqiu stepped back from the door, blinking at Su Xingjie. To make sure she saw, she retreated several steps. “Do I look good today? Formal enough?”
At one in the afternoon, the hottest time of day, Yan Qingqiu’s golden hair shone dazzlingly. Braided into a fishtail, with a curled strand at her temple, Su Xingjie adjusted it, marveling at how fair she was.
She carried a fragrance.
She’d switched to a silver dress with thin straps, a pure yet sultry style. A butterfly bow adorned her shoulders, the dress sparkling with fine sequins, its hem a delicate lace cutout, looking both Alpha and alluring.
“Looks good, but Qiu-bao, has your chest gotten bigger?”
Su Xingjie’s eyes were like a ruler, measuring instantly.
Her words stunned Yan Qingqiu. I’ve hidden everything, fooled the doctor, and now you spot something from my figure?
“Maybe this dress emphasizes my chest,” Yan Qingqiu said, frowning. Her clothes were getting tight around the chest.
Saying this to someone in the fashion industry, a director no less, was like blatantly saying, “Look, I’m bluffing.”
Luckily, their talk didn’t last long. The driver pulled up, opening the door. “Miss Su, coming along?”
Su Xingjie often hung out here, and Mr. Yan knew her. Staying for dinner would be fine, but she had work issues—a model borrowed from abroad had problems, and she needed to handle it. Regretfully, she shook her head. “Depends. I’ll deal with work first.”
Yan Qingqiu whispered earnestly, “Come back tomorrow. For sure my dad’s back.”
Su Xingjie nodded. “Got it.”
As she left, Su Xingjie glanced at Yan Qingqiu’s chest. Her Omega intuition was sharp—Yan Qingqiu now resembled her during early differentiation, her chest changing daily, exuding an irresistible allure.
Alluring, yes, but with a backbone.
It made you want to break her spirit.
Stranger still was Yan Qingqiu’s attitude. She used to complain to Su Xingjie that her dad was an obstacle to her romantic dreams, calling him “old man” or “that old thing.” Now, she not only valued her dad but feared him.
When they were younger, Su Xingjie believed everything her friend said, used to those nicknames. Now, as mature adults, hearing her suddenly change how she referred to her dad felt odd to Su Xingjie’s rational mind. But… what was wrong?
—
Yan Qingqiu grabbed her bag and got into the nanny van. Song Qingre didn’t follow, standing at the door watching. Alone in the back seat, Yan Qingqiu felt nervous and wanted company.
She opened the door, beckoning Song Qingre. “Come on up.”
Song Qingre paused slightly, then bent to get in, sitting beside her. “Why suddenly ask me to come?”
The door closed, blocking the stifling heat outside.
Yan Qingqiu said, “What if my dad hits me?”
Song Qingre laughed. “Uncle’s exhausted from travel. How could he hit you? Don’t worry, I’m here.”
Yan Qingqiu turned to the window, fingers tightly gripping her skirt. Moments later, she heard Song Qingre’s gentle voice. “Don’t be afraid.”
The weather was hot, leaves wilting, and sprinklers passed by. Yan Qingqiu looked out but saw no beautiful scenery.
The car radio mentioned rain tomorrow.
The housekeeper said, “It hasn’t rained all last month. Tomorrow should bring some. Not sure if the forecast’s accurate.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll rain. If not, they’ll seed the clouds,” Song Qingre said.
The road was slightly congested. The car stopped at the airport entrance, bustling with people and traffic. The housekeeper navigated to the VIP exit, checking his watch.
Fifteen minutes later, his phone rang.
Yan Qingqiu, nervous, kept clutching her skirt, her fingers sweaty, her nape aching. She regretted not wearing shorts to pocket her hands. As she thought this, Song Qingre grabbed her wrist, nodding upward.
Then, Yan Qingqiu saw Mr. Yan.
There were few photos of Yan Fu at home, and his room was locked, so she’d searched online for information.
Middle-aged but still handsome, Yan Fu wore a sharp black suit, silver glasses on his nose. Likely tired from travel, his brow was furrowed, looking stern and imposing.
His gaze swept over, softening slightly at Song Qingre but darkening at Yan Qingqiu. Her heart raced uncomfortably, instinctively wanting to hide.
Song Qingre stepped forward, calling “Uncle,” shielding Yan Qingqiu. Head down behind her, Yan Qingqiu heard Yan Fu chuckle. “Sorry to trouble you, Xiao Re.”
Yan Qingqiu wanted to speak, but her mouth felt powerless, her teeth biting her lower lip.
Yan Fu looked away, saying nothing.
The housekeeper handled luggage, and Song Qingre took a briefcase, glancing at Yan Qingqiu. “Want to carry it?”
Yan Qingqiu nodded, grabbing it.
Luggage was meant for the trunk, but seeing her grip, the housekeeper let her hold it. In the car, Yan Qingqiu clutched the briefcase, her small bag slung across her waist.
Standing outside briefly, she was drenched in sweat.
Song Qingre called, “Get in quick.”
In the same car, Yan Qingqiu sat in the back, hugging the briefcase. The atmosphere was far less relaxed than before, oppressively tense.
She felt uneasy all over.
She wanted to speak but didn’t dare.
During her nap, she’d had a fleeting dream where her dad returned, and she proudly had him thrash Song Qingre.
As they prepared to leave, a man in a suit tapped the window. Yan Fu opened the door, and the man whispered something.
Though hushed, Yan Qingqiu caught a few words—someone from Fu Ye’s company, wanting to discuss something with Yan Fu. She turned to look, but with so many cars at the airport, she couldn’t spot Fu Ye’s.
Snapping back, she saw Yan Fu looking at her, his face dark with anger. Her breath caught. Does he think I’m looking for Fu Ye?
She wanted to clarify, Who’s looking at him?
Disgusting!
She’d been bold before, but now she couldn’t say a word.
Lowering her head, her nose stung, unsure what felt wrong.
Yan Fu spoke coldly, “Forget it. Drive home.”
Reclining his seat, he closed his eyes to rest.
Song Qingre spoke softly to her. “You’ve been nervously waiting all day. Uncle’s just resting. What are you worried about?”
Her reassurance lifted Yan Qingqiu’s mood. Mr. Yan must’ve heard. He’ll know I’ve been waiting for him, right?
Yan Qingqiu couldn’t control her eyes, glancing forward. Getting no response, she looked away, wishing to get home soon.
Yan Fu must’ve been exhausted. When they arrived, everyone got out, but he was still asleep. The housekeeper had the luggage taken inside.
He gently patted Yan Fu’s shoulder. “Sir, we’re here. Maybe sleep in your room?”
“Mmm, okay.” Yan Fu nodded, opening bloodshot eyes. He nearly stumbled getting out. Yan Qingqiu stepped forward to help but shuffled back, too scared.
“Sir, hungry?” the housekeeper asked.
Yan Fu shook his head, utterly drained, wanting only sleep.
Yan Qingqiu had hoped to show off her cooking that evening, feeling a bit disappointed. She took a deep breath, clutching the briefcase tighter.
Yan Fu finally looked at her. “Briefcase.”
Startled, Yan Qingqiu stared, handing it over, her throat too tight to speak.
Yan Fu took it, standing before her. She heard a heavy nasal sound, then he went straight to the living room and upstairs, barely speaking to the housekeeper.
The housekeeper wanted to comfort Yan Qingqiu. She shook her head, saying it was fine.
Inside, she realized Song Qingre had been holding her wrist.
Her breathing was uneven, her body hot, her mood low and gloomy.
That afternoon, Yan Qingqiu did nothing, texting Su Xingjie in the living room, often looking upstairs. Yan Fu never came down, not even for dinner, sleeping the whole time.
The housekeeper noticed her mood and comforted her. “It’s okay. Tomorrow, you can talk. The company’s been busy, and Sir hasn’t recovered.”
Yan Qingqiu nodded. “I know.”
But at night, she felt stifled, checking her phone.
The message she sent yesterday was unanswered. Did Mr. Yan even see it?
While looking, a message came in.
From Song Qingre: [Sleep early. Uncle’s just tired. If you don’t believe me, get up early tomorrow and see.]
Used to bickering with her, Yan Qingqiu found her tone unfamiliar, but Song Qingre’s words felt reliable. Lying on her bed, chin on her pillow, she typed seriously: [You sure?]
Song Qingre: [Absolutely. But if you sleep in tomorrow, looking sloppy, your dad will be mad, and all your good effort today will be wasted.]
Her brain registered: She’s praising me, and she’s serious!
Yan Qingqiu almost typed “I don’t believe you” when another message came: [You didn’t want the checkup, but you did it without stalling.]
Yan Qingqiu nodded. Yes! But she felt a twinge of sadness.
Yan Qingqiu: [I texted him yesterday, and he didn’t reply.]
Song Qingre: [Uncle’s been busy packing, running between the company and lab. The return trip took thirteen hours, and he’s been talking through his secretary. His phone’s off, how could he see it?]
Yan Qingqiu knew this but couldn’t help feeling scared and anxious. Having someone say it was normal eased her state.
Song Qingre: [Sleep early.]
Yan Qingqiu suppressed her anxiety, rolled over, and tried to sleep.
With Mr. Yan back, she felt restrained. When he was away, she could run wild, like a monkey ruling the mountain without tigers. Now, the real master was home, and she felt like an outsider, a guest in someone else’s house, forced to be polite.
Half an hour later, another message: [Didn’t you say you’d tell Dad I hit you? How will you have the energy to tattle if you don’t rest?]
Clutching her phone, Yan Qingqiu couldn’t muster anger, biting her lip. At least she wasn’t so anxious. Sniffing her pillow, she found it less fragrant than Song Qingre’s citrus scent. She liked that smell.
She didn’t stay up all night, sleeping fairly well. In the morning, she checked the doctor’s message, changed, and heard the housekeeper knock.
He said softly, “Miss, let’s make breakfast.”
“Okay.” Yan Qingqiu tiptoed downstairs. Poor kids grow up fast—she’d learned to cook at the orphanage, though limited ingredients meant she mostly made stews.
Later, living alone, she only cooked noodles or porridge, never touching fancy ingredients. Her cooking skill was zero.
In the kitchen, she took an apron and started on shrimp. Song Qingre came over, saying gently, “Miss Yan, let me handle the rough work.”
“I’m not incompetent.” Yan Qingqiu, exasperated, pinched a shrimp, deftly removing the vein, showing it to Song Qingre.
Song Qingre glanced, saying nothing, watching silently.
The housekeeper was shocked. “Miss, how do you know how to do that? Just do a little, you don’t really need to.”
“It’s just a shrimp.” Yan Qingqiu found it absurd. Could a pampered rich girl not know how to devein shrimps? Her simple, tough life took a hit.
But it made sense. If she’d been born rich, she’d be too lazy to dress herself. No choice—twenty years of hardship.
Since she’d started, she didn’t hold back. “Don’t make a fuss. I’ll do it. Too many people will mess me up!”
Head down, she shelled and deveined shrimps. The head chef was stunned—Miss was too skilled, like she’d worked professionally at a fancy restaurant. Gone was the fussy girl who’d complain about undercooked rice in porridge…
Calmly finishing, Yan Qingqiu had the chef teach her to make steamed egg with shrimp.
Breakfast was simple, no need for elaborate dishes.
She also made porridge.
“I don’t know why, but Miss’s skilled moves make me a bit sad,” the housekeeper sighed. Watching her grow up, he believed she should be spoiled, not skilled if she wasn’t.
The family’s princess should be pampered, held in everyone’s hands.
Song Qingre stepped out, asking, “Has Uncle woke up?”
“Up early, on calls in the study. I’ll call him when it’s ready,” the housekeeper said. “A surprise needs to feel like one.”
Breakfast took forty minutes—steamed egg with shrimp, porridge, and dumplings, all by Yan Qingqiu. She sighed inwardly, expecting a challenge, but these were easy. Tsk.
The housekeeper went to fetch Yan Fu, who came down quickly, brow furrowed, busy with a laptop.
He ate while working.
The housekeeper asked, “How’s the taste?”
“Not bad,” Yan Fu said casually.
“Miss made it,” the housekeeper said.
Yan Fu didn’t register at first, tapping the keyboard. Realizing, he looked at Yan Qingqiu, took another bite, and found it genuinely good.
“She can do this?”
“Yes, she secretly learned it for you. We tried to help this morning but couldn’t get a hand in,” the housekeeper said, looking at Song Qingre. “Ask Miss Song if you don’t believe me.”
Song Qingre nodded. “Very skilled. I can’t match her. She probably practiced a lot to avoid messing up.”
Yan Qingqiu stood there, now in pants, hands in pockets, silent like she was awaiting inspection.
Yan Fu felt a pang, looking away from the laptop to eat more. He told the housekeeper, “Get my suitcase from upstairs.”
The housekeeper was quick, bringing it down in minutes.
“Gift,” Yan Fu said to Yan Qingqiu, his tone gentle. “For you.”
Meeting his gaze, Yan Qingqiu panicked but stepped forward. “Thank you, Dad.”
The box was heavy. Yan Qingqiu smiled, standing aside with it, confusing Yan Fu. She asked softly, “Can I open it?”
“Hm?” Yan Fu was puzzled, sensing something off but unable to pinpoint it. He nodded.
Yan Qingqiu backed away with the box, scurried to the stairs, and ran up, no trace of restraint. On her bedroom floor, she tore into it, ripping open packages without finesse.
Inside were many items: perfume—she sniffed, and her dad’s taste was spot-on, perfect for her.
She found a necklace, a gold ingot earring, dazzling. Her dad nailed her style, so pretty she put them on.
There was a small crown hairpin too, which she wore, and various trinkets, like a red matryoshka doll. She opened the big doll, then the medium, then the small, finding candy in the tiniest one.
Downstairs, Yan Fu still couldn’t figure out what felt off. He asked the housekeeper, “Is Miss’s checkup report out?”
“It’s out. I’ll send it to your email.” The housekeeper hadn’t looked yet, forwarding it to Yan Fu.
Upstairs, Yan Qingqiu was clueless.
The doctor wouldn’t share the report with Song Qingre, but the hospital would send it to Yan Fu, who hired them. They had to provide a summary, no mistakes allowed.
Yan Fu adjusted his glasses, reading carefully. The more he read, the more shocked he was, pulling the laptop closer. The gland report read: Secondary differentiation, 89% progressed to SSS-grade Omega.
Stunned, Yan Fu asked the housekeeper, “Does she know?”
The housekeeper, frowning as he read, was clueless.
Song Qingre, standing nearby, said calmly, “She knows. And she doesn’t want others to know.”
Though his daughter was often disobedient, driving him up the wall, Yan Fu had only one daughter.
He had to protect her pride while worrying about her safety.
Looking at Song Qingre, he said, “This is… serious. It’s probably a big blow to her. For now, we act like we don’t know. If she thinks she’s an Alpha, let her. If we expose her, she might not handle it…”
“…what to do? Originally an Alpha, now turning into an Omega—she must be struggling to get over that hurdle.”
“Yes, Miss loves calling herself a fierce Alpha.” The housekeeper regretted his words as he spoke. He should’ve noticed something was off with her earlier. She hadn’t always been so vocal about it—it must be her insecurity, a way to bolster her pride.
Reflecting on it, he realized he’d been keeping notes daily but wasn’t as observant as Song Qingre. He felt utterly incompetent.
The chef came with a menu. “Sir, how about these dishes for the next few days?”
Yan Fu glanced at it and rejected it. “How can she eat these? They’re too stimulating. Change them.”
The Yan family never had an Omega, but he knew that during differentiation, Omegas needed careful attention, and some foods were off-limits.
Yan Fu was upset, saying sternly, “Uncle Dong, she’s almost fully differentiated, and you didn’t notice? Thank goodness Xiao Re was keeping an eye on her.”
The housekeeper admitted his oversight, saying, “I’m sorry, Sir. As a Beta, I didn’t feel it appropriate to pry into a young lady’s privacy, so I missed it. I can contact a physiology teacher to help Miss.”
Yan Fu said, “She’s spoiled and has a bad temper. We’ll need a few more doctors, and we need to act fast. Many of the rough habits at home needs to change.”
“Understood.”
As they spoke, the person upstairs who’d finished unpacking her gifts came down.
Yan Qingqiu had put on all her new accessories before descending. Yan Fu was on the phone with a doctor, his tone heavy. Seeing her, his voice softened.
It was like when she was little. He was always busy, flying everywhere, with little time to spend with Yan Qingqiu. The only way to make up for it was gifts, carefully chosen to be unique so she wouldn’t tire of them.
Back then, she’d wear everything and run next door to show off, happily telling others, “See, my dad loves me so much!”
And no matter where she was, Yan Qingqiu was always lively, acting spoiled in front of him, calling “Dad” in the sweetest voice, no matter her age.
Yan Fu kept the call brief, hanging up to look at Yan Qingqiu. “Just like when you were little.”
Hearing this, Yan Qingqiu spun in front of Song Qingre, flaunting her father’s love. Then, remembering Song Qingre’s parents were gone, she only showed off briefly before quietly returning to her spot.
Song Qingre hummed in acknowledgment.
Yan Qingqiu thought, It’s not like when I was little.
As a child, she lived in an orphanage. Many aunties and uncles came to adopt, bringing clothes and snacks, but those were shared with other kids.
So… none of it truly belonged to her.
Perhaps because she was young, she was a bit selfish. She didn’t particularly like those aunties and uncles. During mutual selection, she was less obedient than other kids, always shaking her head and backing away, so as she grew older, no one wanted to adopt her.
Sometimes, she envied the adopted kids, who got new families, better lives, pretty clothes, and shoes. Their hair ties could be worn as bracelets, and they had parents who doted on them.
She envied them, but when someone reached out to her, she still shook her head.
When she grew up, the orphanage was restructured. It was sad to think about—the orphanage was gone, and she was truly alone.
Yan Qingqiu stood by the table again, saying bluntly, “Thank you, Dad. I love them!”
After Yan Fu nodded, she sat smugly in a nearby chair, fiddling with her phone to take selfies, ready to post on her Moments to show off her gifts.
She didn’t notice anything unusual. Yan Fu created a group chat.
Excluding Yan Qingqiu, he added everyone in the household. Given the seriousness, Yan Fu made a concise but important announcement: [@All Members, please note, my daughter is highly likely to differentiate into an SSS-grade Omega. From now on, the household diet must change. Seafood is strictly prohibited for her. Head Chef, consult the nutritionist to adjust the menu. Housekeepers, ensure Miss’s room is cleaned frequently, with the softest, most skin-friendly bedding. Gardeners clean the yard thoroughly today, some flowers and plants can no longer be kept.]
The housekeeper added on his phone: [I’ll personally inspect everything. Also, Miss’s temper may flare up recently. Everyone, please be understanding and patient!]
All Members: [Understood!!!!]
That morning, the Yan household was abuzz, and everyone knew.
Their young miss was undergoing secondary differentiation, becoming an ultra-rare, ultra-fragile SSS-grade Omega who needed utmost care and affection, delicate and soft!
Yan Fu, ever protective, made these arrangements but couldn’t help worrying.
If he weren’t so busy, he’d have told the neighbors: My daughter’s about to undergo secondary differentiation. Unrelated Alphas, please stay away. Thank you for your cooperation.
Calming himself, Yan Fu typed earnestly, [No need to expose her. Let her keep pretending. After this, she won’t have the chance again.]
They discussed for a while before Song Qingre chimed in: [I noticed something was off earlier, but she’s sensitive and prideful, unwilling to admit the secondary differentiation, so I didn’t call her out. Uncle, entrust her to me. I won’t let her suffer.]
Yan Fu trusted Song Qingre deeply. Over the years, if not for her, his wayward daughter might’ve sold herself to Fu Ye. With Song Qingre around, Fu Ye couldn’t get close—more accurately, his daughter couldn’t go to Fu Ye.
The housekeeper and Yan Fu nodded, finding Song Qingre’s attentiveness reliable.
Yan Fu: [Thank you, Xiao Re.]
Housekeeper: [Thank you, Miss Song.]
Head Chef: [Thank you, Miss Song.]
Others: [Thank you, Miss Song!]
Yan Qingqiu saw them all on their phones, secretly aiming hers at her hardworking dad, snapping a photo. After posting to her Moments, she tapped the table. “Eat quickly, or it’ll get cold.”