Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 23

23:

At this moment, every tile and every drop of water in the bathroom seemed to radiate an awkward atmosphere. Song Qingre felt that Yan Qingqiu might have said something, or maybe she hadn’t.

“Hm?” She raised an eyebrow lightly.

Yan Qingqiu pointed at the bottle on the floor, her finger trembling with emphasis. “I said, pick it up and rub it on me. Cover my whole body with it. If you don’t do it thoroughly, you’ll be kneeling today.”

Song Qingre was astonished. This little red-faced girl actually had the audacity to say something like that.

“Pick it up. Don’t forget you still owe me money!” Yan Qingqiu’s entire body was trembling. After being suppressed for so long, she finally felt like she was standing her ground.

Song Qingre walked over, bent down, and picked up the bottle, her fingers holding the citrus-scented container.

“Stay right there and don’t move!” Yan Qingqiu ordered.

“Alright.” Song Qingre didn’t move. “And then?”

Yan Qingqiu didn’t know what to do next. Seeing her flustered, Song Qingre couldn’t help but let a smile tug at her lips. She turned her head slightly, as if saying, “Do whatever you want, I’m not looking.”

Yan Qingqiu glanced at the bathtub, then at the door, before sitting back down in the tub. The warm water felt genuinely comfortable.

“I’m ordering you not to peek.”

“Mm.” Song Qingre obediently averted her gaze, turning to face away from her. She leaned her arm against the nearby clothing rack.

Yan Qingqiu stared at her for a few seconds, then lowered her head, splashing water on her face in a frenzy. So embarrassing, utterly embarrassing. There are many ways to die in life but for her, there were only two: death by awkwardness or on the path to it. She’d surely be the first person to die of embarrassment.

So humiliating, truly humiliating.

After her face-burning moment, she leaned back in the tub. The showerhead above was running hot water, and the maid had thoughtfully scattered rose petals in the bath.

A bit too thoughtful, though they’d even added citrus essential oil.

Yan Qingqiu peeled off her wet clothes and placed them on the floor. When she looked up at Song Qingre, she saw that Song Qingre wasn’t sneaking any glances.

This was her first time soaking in a bathtub with someone else in the room.

She was genuinely shy.

But the tub was so comfortable that she squinted her eyes, savoring it.

For as long as she soaked, Song Qingre stood there. Eventually, Yan Qingqiu commanded, “Go out and get my clothes.”

Song Qingre nodded but preempted her with, “Don’t peek.”

“I won’t look at you.”

Song Qingre asked, “What do you want to wear? You can’t wear too much for an essential oil massage, you know.”

Did she have to add that last part? So mortifying!

“I know. Grab my tube top and shorts.”

Yan Qingqiu waited for her to leave, then got out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. When Song Qingre brought the clothes in, Yan Qingqiu teased, “Seeing a beauty like me bathing, are you secretly thrilled?”

Before Song Qingre could respond, she added, “Pervert!”

After saying that, she put on her clothes and walked around Song Qingre into the bedroom. Song Qingre didn’t leave but went straight into the bathroom, saying, “I don’t know why, but when you scold me, it makes me even more excited.”

“…”

So infuriating.

Yan Qingqiu didn’t continue the verbal sparring. She flopped onto the bed, deciding not to dodge the massage today—she was going to enjoy it fully.

She almost forgot, Song Qingre still owed her money. She’d see if this “upgraded” massage was comfortable enough to deduct from the debt.

Soon, Song Qingre came out wrapped in a bathrobe, her wet hair adding a touch of allure as she walked over step by step.

Yan Qingqiu stuffed her notebook and pen under the pillow. Wearing white shorts and a delicate tube top, she lay gently on the bed, her forehead resting on her arms, her skin smooth as jade.

Outside, the rain pattered against the glass, and the sky had completely darkened. After waiting for a while with no movement from Song Qingre, Yan Qingqiu snapped, “What are you standing there for? Start massaging!”

“Qiuqiu’s so fierce, I’m a little scared,” Song Qingre teased.

“Hurry up.” Yan Qingqiu’s tone was commanding. “And don’t call me Qiuqiu. Be more respectful.”

When Song Qingre softened and Yan Qingqiu grew bolder, ordering, “Kneel while you do it. Don’t lie down. Massage me properly.”

“Yes, Master,” Song Qingre replied, obedient as a maid. Yan Qingqiu got goosebumps from how compliant she was, too compliant.

Song Qingre was like her little servant.

Yan Qingqiu waited impatiently, turning her head in annoyance. Just then, Song Qingre began. A thin stream of liquid from the bottle dripped onto Yan Qingqiu’s slender waist.

“Don’t move,” Song Qingre said, her long fingers dabbing at the bottle’s rim.

One drop, two drops—the cool sensation landed on her waist.

Song Qingre’s fragrant fingers, now slick with oil, poured a few more drops and gently spread the oil across Yan Qingqiu’s body.

It smelled divine.

The atmosphere was too quiet. Yan Qingqiu bit her lip. “Say something. A massage this dull is no fun… I mean, it’s not your fingers that are dull.”

“Oh, got it,” Song Qingre said. “You seem pretty tense at home.”

Yan Qingqiu’s body was indeed tense. She relaxed, softening as she breathed. Song Qingre added, “I mean how you interact with the maids at home.”

“It’s fine,” Yan Qingqiu replied, unwilling to admit anything. But since Song Qingre had just returned, she probably didn’t know how “she” dealt with the maids. “It’s always been like this at home.”

“Always out of place?” Song Qingre’s tone was calm but pierced Yan Qingqiu’s heart. Her eyes were too sharp.

Yan Qingqiu felt as if every cell on her back had grown a mouth, eagerly devouring the oil. In their haste, they nibbled at the slender fingers on her waist.

Each touch felt like a tease.

Yan Qingqiu was both afraid and craving it, wanting Song Qingre to slow down so she could savor it, yet also wanting her to speed up for a quicker release.

She almost wanted to shout: Kill me or I’ll kill you!

The longer Song Qingre massaged, the more Yan Qingqiu feared. Unable to see her expression, her mind began replaying Song Qingre’s persona—witty, elegant, yet deeply mysterious and intimidating. Getting close to her felt like dealing with a devil.

The devil gently applied oil with her fingers, but upon waking and turning around, Yan Qingqiu might find those fingers were skeletal, ready to stab her.

“Mm…”

A pinch hit just right, so comfortable.

The massage was divine.

Yan Qingqiu couldn’t describe the sensation. It was like an electric current shot through her spine, numbing and exhilarating.

“Sorry, I touched your tailbone,” Song Qingre said.

Yan Qingqiu took a deep breath, her fingers clutching the sheets. Unable to hold back, she turned to sneak a glance at Song Qingre. Song Qingre’s gaze was fixed on her back, her tied-up hair slightly loosened, strands clinging to her cheeks.

She looked up at Yan Qingqiu. “Hm?”

Her thin lips pursed, fingers circling on Yan Qingqiu’s skin.

“Master, still not satisfied?”

Too satisfied, don’t doubt it.

Under the light, Miss Song was a captive servant, obeying every command to serve this tyrannical ruler. Yan Qingqiu’s back was slick and glossy, her skin so soft it seemed water could be squeezed from it.

Song Qingre began massaging her legs, and Yan Qingqiu tensed, trembling.

“Relax,” Song Qingre said.

“Mm, mm, mm…” Yan Qingqiu felt awkward, as if she was feeling something, but it was so comfortable. The massage greatly relieved her feverish pain and pressure.

“Actually… The oil smells pretty nice and feels good to use. Why aren’t our family’s products selling well?” Yan Qingqiu asked, fishing for conversation and genuinely curious.

Song Qingre didn’t respond at first, and Yan Qingqiu didn’t mind.

Later, as she massaged her calves, Song Qingre said earnestly, “Your uncle is innovative, but too stubborn. He focuses innovation on the product itself, but the customers are still the same group. Do you think customers understand the difference?”

For Yan Qingqiu, she didn’t understand—she bought whatever the salespeople pitched.

“To really change things, start with surface-level work. Improve packaging and cater to popular tastes. But your uncle is stubborn here too. He changes the content but refuses to alter the brand’s longstanding image, believing it’s the family’s face.”

Yan Qingqiu understood. “Doesn’t that cause a lot of problems? Won’t high-end products sell poorly then?”

“Some will sell, but not many. The brand’s image limits it. People will buy, but it feels like a budget brand trying to be luxury. You might lose more of your core customer base.”

Yan Qingqiu was shocked. Song Qingre sounded like a seasoned businesswoman, not an artist.

“If you want to help uncle, you could tell him this.”

Yan Qingqiu’s lips moved, but she didn’t dare. She was clueless about business. “Why don’t you tell him?”

“Uncle is stubborn. After being a capitalist for so long, do you think he’d listen to a small-time artist like me talk about business strategy?” Song Qingre pressed a bit harder, and Yan Qingqiu inhaled sharply—so good. She squinted, thinking, If you can’t convince him, I definitely can’t.

“Qiuqiu’s so smart, you should know how to persuade him, right?” Song Qingre’s voice was soft, almost seductive.

Yan Qingqiu squinted, clutching the sheets tighter, unsure if she was softening or hardening. She mumbled in agreement.

By the end, her body was soaked in oil, like a ripe, thin-skinned orange—juicy, tangy, and sweet.

Song Qingre smirked, seeing her flustered state. Just as she was about to say something, a knock came at the door. The housekeeper called for her.

Song Qingre draped a thin blanket over Yan Qingqiu and went to open the door. As she grabbed the handle, Yan Qingqiu looked up. “Don’t think this gets you off the hook. Tomorrow, be here on time to serve me again.”

Song Qingre nodded, glancing back without rushing to leave. She grabbed a nightgown from the wardrobe. “Wear this when you sleep.”

Yan Qingqiu lay on the bed, feeling relaxed. The entire bottle of oil was used up, and she somewhat understood the “marking” in the ABO world.

Song Qingre stepped out, closing the door tightly. The housekeeper, concerned, said, “How is she? Sir is worried she might have a fever tonight.”

“The oil worked well. She’s much more comfortable after the massage. Probably asleep by now.”

The housekeeper said, “Thank you, that was a lot of effort.”

Song Qingre smiled. “No trouble at all.”

—

Yan Qingqiu slept beautifully through the night, her body completely relaxed. One word: bliss.

The first thing she did upon waking was change her social media username. It wasn’t something she’d chosen, it was already like that when she transmigrated.

At first, she thought it was her gaming username, forcing others to address her that way, which made her cringe for a long time. Later, she assumed it was a coincidence that the original “her” had the same username, so she hadn’t changed it to avoid suspicion.

Now, as she edited it, she wondered if this username had somehow messed with some cosmic magnetic field, causing her to transmigrate into this game.

When she submitted the change, she was nervous, worried it might zap her back to her original world. But then she had a shocking realization: I actually like it here and don’t want to go back.

She first changed it to “Yan Qingqiu”, no transmigration. Then to “LovePurpleDreamButterflyTears·Qiu”, still nothing. Finally, she settled on “Qiu’er.”

Finally, a somewhat normal name.

Yan Qingqiu looked around and decided to change her profile picture too. It was too dated, like something from her melodramatic, “I’m the saddest person in the world” student days.

Thanks, but this sister has grown up.

She switched to an Ultraman in red shorts, shooting light beams—motivational and radiant, the kind of avatar a promising young person would use.

After finishing, she got out of bed to change.

Within five minutes, she received over a dozen messages.

Su Xingjie: [Qiuqiu, what did you do to yourself? Did your account get hacked?]

Housekeeper: [Sent a docx file, then retracted it and sent a “?”]

Yan Qingqiu calmly sat up and replied to each: [No worries, just wanted to change my avatar and mindset. A fresh start.]

Though confused, no one pressed further.

Since she hadn’t had time to read yesterday’s update after running around, she had two chapters saved up. She quickly washed her face, brushed her teeth, and got back into bed, all clean and ready.

She tugged the thin blanket over herself, wary of interruptions while reading.

Once settled, she opened the novel.

[Recently, when Sir returned and I saw Miss acting so cautiously, it reminded me of when she got punished for misbehaving in the past. I can’t recall if it was their first or second year of high school, but I remember Miss Song was going to a summer camp, and Miss insisted on tagging along. Sir forbade her from going, worried she’d disrupt Miss Song.

But early in the morning, she snuck into the car’s trunk and went along. If it weren’t for a roadside inspection, she might’ve suffocated.

They say when they found her, she was drenched in sweat, pale, and struggling to breathe. The entire household was terrified.

I don’t know how she got through those days. When she returned, Sir stood at the door with a stick, ready to discipline her. She dodged and jumped around, and none of the maids dared intervene. I didn’t dare speak either. Only Miss Song rushed forward and hugged her.

Miss Song lied to Sir, saying she’d brought Miss along. But Sir’s stick didn’t stop in time and struck Miss Song’s shoulder.

Miss, who was usually so stubborn, cried and admitted her mistake, shouting, “Don’t hit her, don’t hit her, Dad! I was wrong, I snuck out myself!”

“You’ve hurt her!”

Sir was furious and wanted to hit her again.

Miss Song shielded her tightly.

Sir, realizing he’d hit the wrong person, said nothing more out of guilt.

After entering high school, they started sleeping in separate rooms. Miss apologized verbally but still snuck into Miss Song’s room at night, lying by her bedside to say sorry.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Miss Song said.

Miss was wild, and Miss Song was always cleaning up her messes. For example, when summer camp ended, Miss hadn’t finished her summer homework, with stacks of assignments piling up. Miss Song stayed up late helping her, both so tired their heads hit the desk.

Miss would boldly say, “Kiss me, and I’ll remember not to mess up again.”

Miss Song, tongue-tied, didn’t know how to argue.

She always bought candy for Miss, who’d eat so much she’d roll around with toothaches, yet still boldly say, “Kiss me, and I’ll stop eating candy.”

That’s how they spent their days. Miss Song was always flustered by Miss’s antics, and Miss reveled in it, coming up with new tricks daily.

One day, I found a torn pink envelope under Miss’s pillow, filled with passionate, ambiguous words—over a thousand of them. I’ve forgotten the details, but it was likely a love letter to Miss Song that Miss intercepted.

Another day, I found a letter under her pillow. Miss wrote like a literary master: “In the daytime, I read in a book, ‘The storm darkens the sky, the rooster crows ceaselessly; seeing my beloved, how could I not rejoice?’ But it’s not raining, and I’m restless. I recall the line you asked me to read: ‘At dawn I watch the sky, at dusk I watch the clouds; walking, I think of you, sitting, I think of you.’ I miss you, I love you, I hate you, yet I still love you. The plums under the window ripen day by day, and you’re downstairs painting, but I miss you to death. Do you understand? I wish to be a star to your moon, our light entwines in the night.”

For two days in a row, I checked. On the third day, I looked again, and it became, “I’m bad at math, so I say 520; I’m good at literature…”

That letter was too plain and inelegant, so I didn’t bother remembering it.

Each letter was signed “Qiu” and stamped properly. I don’t know which ones reached the mailbox or got a reply.

I think this is why she fearlessly climbed into the trunk, risking everything to follow Miss Song—she was afraid someone would steal her summer plum.]

Reading this, Yan Qingqiu immediately recalled the things she’d found in Song Qingre’s room. She wanted to give “her” a thumbs-up for bravely pursuing love, though the choice of poetry was a bit off. “Walking I think of you, sitting, I think of you” would’ve been better—the other was too old-fashioned.

[Later, after their relationship fell apart, Miss Song returned for the Qingming Festival to pay respects to her parents. It was raining, and she stood alone without an umbrella. I brought one out to her, and a spark of joy flashed in her eyes.

She probably thought Miss had sent it.

But at twenty, she likely knew better. I stayed silent, so the umbrella had nothing to do with Miss.

I asked if she was still alone.

Miss Song paused, then said yes.

I asked why with my eyes, and she said something very artistic.

Sometimes, betting everything on one person is better than aimlessly trying and failing.

“What if it doesn’t work out?”

“I’ll wait until I die.”

I understand a bit about art. Miss’s eighteen years of youth created an artist, and six years later, punished one.

I understand her art, but not the artist herself.]

Yan Qingqiu’s fingers trembled as she read, her eyes blinking as her lashes grew wet. She shouldn’t have read the update, it hit her too hard.

She put away her phone and went downstairs. The housekeeper came up to call her for dinner. She gave him a cold side-eye, and he instantly understood she’d received his document.

Yan Qingqiu was exasperated with him, pointing accusingly. If Song Qingre weren’t sitting downstairs, she’d have said, “I’m not asking you to write spicy scenes, but don’t run me over with angst!”

At the dining table, she glanced at Song Qingre. Song Qingre picked up a steamed bun with her chopsticks and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Yan Qingqiu washed her hands and started eating.

She thought of their rainy walk yesterday, when Song Qingre said, “I want to walk with you a bit longer.”

Was she seeing “her” in Yan Qingqiu?

That made it even more heartbreaking…

“Miss?” The housekeeper bent down to call her several times. “What are you thinking about?”

Yan Qingqiu snapped back. “Nothing.”

She was just wondering whether to make a comeback, to create some fanfiction and take it to bed for a few days and nights.

The housekeeper said, “The rain hasn’t stopped. Sir says to stay home today and not go out.”

Yan Qingqiu nodded, eating quietly while sneaking glances at Song Qingre. Song Qingre noticed her gaze. “What’s up?”

Yan Qingqiu suddenly recalled the start of the game.

It had asked if she wanted to help the beauty in bed through her heat. She chose to help, and then got stabbed.

Could there be a connection?

After yesterday’s chaos, the maids were less afraid of Yan Qingqiu. Though she’d scolded them yesterday, it was just verbal with no real punishment. They thought the little princess was tough on the outside but soft inside.

The sense of being out of place had lessened. Song Qingre’s hug had shown everyone Yan Qingqiu’s lively, playful nature, and they started talking to her more.

In her first two days after transmigrating, Yan Qingqiu was on edge, acting domineering to maintain her persona, sweeping through like a storm. She found others annoying, and they were wary of her. Things are slightly better now…

Watching the maids bustle around for her, she couldn’t help but ask the system: [I haven’t blown my cover, right? I feel like someone’s seen through me!]

System: [No, you’re fine. But I’ve secured your reward.]

Yan Qingqiu had no resistance to gifts or money. [What reward? Tell me.]

System: [Can’t show you yet, but I guarantee you’ll love it. I’ll give you a plot point: you can meet Fu Ye.]

Yan Qingqiu was confused. [Why meet him? He annoys me. With my dad back, meeting him is asking for trouble.]

System: [Up to you. If you want to miss out on the reward, that’s fine. We respect your choices~]

That tone was so passive-aggressive.

Meeting Fu Ye felt off.

Her differentiation period was clearly approaching. Was she supposed to play matchmaker for the main couple?

Surely it wasn’t that during her heat, she’d seduce Song Qingre who’d also enter heat leading to the main couple’s harmonious phase of mutual passion while she stood by with a knife, cutting glands…

Ugh, ridiculous.

Stupid system, did it even know?

Yan Qingqiu chose to ignore the system.
The rain continued, pattering against the garden plants.

It hadn’t stopped all day. Once it cleared and the summer heat faded, autumn would officially begin. The rain grew heavier, and the household watched her closely. Standing at the door made people nervous.

Yan Qingqiu was bored, lying on the sofa, legs crossed, alternating between staring at her fingers and toes.

She messaged Su Xingjie to check on her.

Su Xingjie: [Fu Ye sent his lawyer to my company today.]

Yan Qingqiu sat up, having just cursed him out. She sent a voice message: “What’s that jerk doing at your company?”

Song Qingre, reading in the side hall, glanced over. Yan Qingqiu lay back down and typed: [He’s got no connection to your company, right?]

Su Xingjie: [Not before, but it seems he’s here to discuss a collaboration. I suspect he’s involved in this mess.]

Yan Qingqiu had a feeling the plot was pushing her to meet Fu Ye. If she didn’t go…

After sending the message, she toyed with a corner of her phone, glancing at Song Qingre, wanting to ask her to drive her out.

Song Qingre met her gaze. “That’s boring?”
Yan Qingqiu nodded, her eyes hopeful. “There’s something I really want to do.”

“What is it? Tell me, and I’ll see if it’s urgent.”
Yan Qingqiu hesitated, lips moving, feeling too shy to ask directly. Her tone softened. “Please help me out.”

The reader paused her fingers. Yan Qingqiu softened further. “Just a quick trip, I’ll be back soon.”

Song Qingre tilted her head, looking at her sprawled on the sofa. She closed her book and told the maids, “Report to Uncle Dong later. You’ve got half an hour. I’ll drive you, but you have to promise not to get wet in the rain. Call me when you’re ready to come back, and I’ll pick you up.”

Yan Qingqiu nodded eagerly. “Thanks!”

True to her word, Song Qingre grabbed the keys and drove the car out. Yan Qingqiu wore a raincoat, and a maid held an umbrella for her.
In the car, Song Qingre asked for the address.
“ER Building.”

Song Qingre tapped the steering wheel, adjusted the GPS, and drove slowly through the rainy city.
The car was quiet. Yan Qingqiu broke the silence.

“Are you heading back home or to the office after?”

“To the office, since it’s on the way.”
Feeling the mood was heavy, Yan Qingqiu added,

“So, I asked Uncle Dong for a test report.”
The car stopped suddenly, startling her. “What’s wrong?”

“Red light. Go on.”

“It’s about the ER issue. I got Xingjie’s test report to give to her.”

“Why not just forward it to her?”

“I have something important to discuss with her.”

Yan Qingqiu smirked proudly. “I came up with a plan for her.”

The car started again. Song Qingre said, “That’s clever, huh?”

Not knowing if it’d work, being praised outright made her a bit shy.

At the destination, Yan Qingqiu prepared to rush upstairs. Song Qingre stopped her. “Take the raincoat. What’s the hurry?”

“Right, right.” Yan Qingqiu bundled the raincoat, unable to fit it in her bag, so she tucked it under her arm and headed in.

Song Qingre drove back to her studio, opened her computer, and clicked on an email.

The hospital data had been sent to her first. She reviewed it, reaching the last page on compatibility: “Compatibility over 98%. This alpha and omega are not suitable to live together.”
Song Qingre’s fingers rested on the mouse, hesitating before clicking. She pressed hard on the scroll wheel.

Then: Delete.

She organized the files and sent them to another email.

Song Qingre called her assistant on the internal line. “Please make a trip to the hospital for me.”
Xiao Fu asked, “What needs to be done?”
Song Qingre said, “Test pheromone compatibility.”

The assistant didn’t fully understand but didn’t ask questions. As she was about to say results would take a few days, Song Qingre sent two files, an alpha’s and an omega’s pheromone data. The alpha’s wasn’t Song Qingre’s.

“Get the results to me as soon as possible.”

“Got it.”

The assistant glanced at her boss. The smile in Song Qingre’s eyes had cooled, but it was restrained, not as openly cold as before.

Yan Qingqiu successfully met Su Xingjie at ER. Su Xingjie took her to the office and said, “I have an idea, but I don’t know if you’re willing to try it.”

Su Xingjie looked at her. “What’s the idea?”
Yan Qingqiu pulled out the test report the housekeeper gave her and handed it over. “Post this on your official Weibo to prove you didn’t take drugs.”

Su Xingjie looked at it. “I thought of that, but it’s useless. People think I knew she was using and covered for her. I invested so much in her, practically carrying her to the international runway.”

She grew angry. “She’s such a disgrace. Why didn’t she just overdose? Putting someone like that on the global stage shames me and the country.”

Yan Qingqiu realized the gravity of the issue. A scandal like this could ruin ER’s reputation and profits.

“I have another idea, if you’re up for it,” Yan Qingqiu said.

“Tell me.” Su Xingjie was desperate.

“Here’s the thing: do a company-wide purge. Arrange a mandatory physical exam and fire anyone who fails. The internet’s saying you’re not responding, right? This is your response. Clean out your models completely.”

Su Xingjie’s eyes lit up. “That could work… but I’d need to calculate the penalty fees…”

“That’s easy,” Yan Qingqiu said. “You’ve got the test reports. If they don’t leave peacefully, make them public and ruin their domestic market. Stay quiet for now, don’t let the models know you’re going this far.”

Su Xingjie was stunned. “Qiu-bao, you’re brilliant.”
Yan Qingqiu felt a bit shy. These ideas came from gossip she’d read. She found companies that hid scandals annoying. If she were the boss, she’d kick everyone out and publicly declare, “My company doesn’t need scum like this.”

“You can be even harsher,” she continued. “They don’t value the opportunities you gave them, so don’t hold back.

After the tests, cut their resources and promote others. Set a high standard for ER. If it’s tough, play the victim online. Say it pained you to fire so many models. Netizens will support you.”

Su Xingjie nodded and made a call. Soon, Qiangwei came in with a laptop and whispered, “There’s a domestic movement to cut up clothes, and celebrities are withdrawing collaborations on Weibo without contacting us. Fu’s people are here, including their artists.”

ER was a major domestic brand, but not unaffordable, with its main market in ready-to-wear clothing.

Su Xingjie handed Qiangwei the test report. “Post this online later. Then tell all the models to wait for me on the ninth-floor runway. Make sure to post only after I’ve called them in.”

Qiangwei nodded.

Su Xingjie asked Yan Qingqiu, “Want to watch?”
Yan Qingqiu wanted to see the drama but thought better of it. With her father at a critical moment, it wasn’t wise to make enemies.

She shook her head. “I’ll wait here for you.”

Su Xingjie stood. “Thanks, Qiu-bao.”

“No problem. I’m not sure if this will work,” Yan Qingqiu said with a smile.

Su Xingjie and Qiangwei left. As soon as they stepped out, Su Xingjie’s face hardened, her tone sharp and decisive. “Lock the door tight later.”

Not all models were clueless. Some might resist a physical exam, fearing they’d be used as scapegoats. Without solid evidence, Su Xingjie couldn’t act recklessly, or she’d be torn apart online if someone was just unwilling to comply.
She had to be airtight.

Yan Qingqiu kept checking her phone, worried about going over time. After half an hour, she texted Su Xingjie that she was heading back.
Su Xingjie replied to wait, saying she’d see her off.
Hearing footsteps, Yan Qingqiu stepped out of the office but didn’t see Su Xingjie. Instead, she saw Fu Ye.

Instinctively, she stepped back, keeping her distance.

Fu Ye, panting, closed in with a heavy tone. “We need to talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Yan Qingqiu was puzzled. “I don’t even like you.”

Fu Ye’s sudden appearance had a clear purpose. His eyes darkened as he blocked her path. “Yes, I liked you first and wrote you letters. But you were too unreasonable, so I wasn’t interested. Now I’ve realized, you’re the one I like most.”

“What are you talking about?”

Yan Qingqiu was shocked. The male lead liked her first? And wrote her letters?

That didn’t add up.

Fu Ye continued, “You’ve changed for the better. I admit I’ve fallen for you. If you still have feelings for me, I’ll settle down.”

He seemed sincere, like a reformed playboy.
Yan Qingqiu found him absurd. After organizing her thoughts, she said, “Sorry, I’m even more unreasonable now. I know your type too well. You only think I’ve changed because I don’t like you or want to chase you anymore, it’s your ego talking. If I chased you like a moth to a flame, you’d call me unreasonable again!”

Her words left Fu Ye speechless, as if she’d seen through the essence of love. He couldn’t fathom how the girl who once clung to him, threatening, “If you don’t date me, I’ll die,” could now speak with such clarity.

He was stunned, recalling a friend’s words: When someone truly stops loving you, they don’t just see through love—they see through your DNA.

Fu Ye softened his tone, trying to take her hand. Yan Qingqiu dodged quickly, sidestepping him. He grabbed her wrist, and she yelped, brushing off her clothes.

“I won’t say that anymore… Let’s get married. I’ll give you security. How’s that?”

Yan Qingqiu nearly laughed. She didn’t want to waste time with him. Su Xingjie arrived and, seeing Fu Ye, was ready to call security.

At this critical moment for ER, Yan Qingqiu didn’t want to escalate. She grabbed Su Xingjie’s wrist. “Xingjie, let’s go. Seeing him makes me sick, and he’s talking about marriage.”

Fu Ye didn’t want to let her go. He stepped forward, pinning her against the wall in a classic wall-slam pose. Yan Qingqiu cursed his shamelessness, but he didn’t care—he admitted he was shameless.

“Yan Qingqiu, you probably don’t know your dad owes me a hundred million. Your family’s nearly bankrupt. I’ll be blunt: I went to ER today not just to terminate contracts but to find you.”

To be precise, Yan Fu had hidden her too well, making it impossible to see her. He’d rather go bankrupt than let Yan Qingqiu apologize, so Fu Ye had to show up himself.

“What?”

Yan Qingqiu stopped, looking up at him. “What did you do now?”

Fu Ye laughed. “Didn’t you ask me to do this?”
He was confused. Wasn’t Yan Qingqiu always annoyed with her dad, complaining daily, even cursing him to die? Why was she acting so filial now?

His gaze grew suspicious. Yan Qingqiu couldn’t hold it together either. Her? What did she do?
It couldn’t be that “she” asked Fu Ye to give her dad a hundred million, right?

Soon, Fu Ye’s words confirmed it.

“You were the one who asked me to invest a hundred million in your dad’s company for some shares, saying…”

“Your dad’s management was bound to fail, so I planned to acquire his company at a low price.”

Yan Qingqiu was dumbfounded.

What kind of awful thing had “she” done?

Even if the Yan family wasn’t as prosperous as before, it was still a national brand with sentimental value and its own business model. “She” was practically trying to ruin her father.

Fu Ye sensed something was off. Yan Qingqiu’s bewilderment didn’t seem fake. He scrutinized her and said, “Why do I feel like you’re a completely different person? You don’t remember a lot of things from before, do you?”

Yan Qingqiu was stunned by “her” actions and momentarily lost her composure. She slowly regained her senses and said, “It’s not that I don’t remember. I just didn’t think you’d take it seriously. Back then, my dad was really short on cash, so I said that to you. How could I possibly want to harm my dad and make him go bankrupt?”

Fu Ye shook his head firmly. “You specifically said you wanted your dad to go bankrupt, and you didn’t just say it to me.”

He recalled the past, how Yan Qingqiu had discussed it with him so seriously. He was shocked by her ruthlessness, but since she kept pestering him and it wouldn’t hurt the Fu family, he followed her suggestion and invested a hundred million.

He asked repeatedly, growing more suspicious each time. “How come you’re like a different person, forgetting everything?”

Even the system in Yan Qingqiu’s mind warned her: Revealing your identity will result in immediate mission failure.

Cold sweat broke out on Yan Qingqiu’s forehead. She steeled herself and went all out, throwing a tantrum. “Fine, fine, I said that! But I was just angry. I didn’t actually want my dad to go bankrupt. And you? Just because I’m ignoring you, you want my whole family dead and even targeted my friend. You’re the disgusting one, the real villain! Either restore the funds now or get lost. Looking at you makes me sick.”

Clearly, Fu Ye wasn’t willing to restore the funds. He said, “I think you should seriously consider our relationship. If we were still together, I’d give the hundred million without hesitation. But if we’re not, I don’t see how the Yan family’s bankruptcy has anything to do with me.”

“Think it over carefully. Stop throwing tantrums. It’s time to grow up. Of course, I’ve realized a lot lately too. Before, I didn’t like you, but now I think I can try to be more understanding and considerate. Let’s get back together.”

He felt he was already humbling himself, but as he spoke, he noticed Yan Qingqiu’s expression growing darker.

Yan Qingqiu clenched her fists.

Suddenly, Fu Ye frowned. He caught a strong omega scent, seemingly emanating from Yan Qingqiu. The fragrance felt like it was trying to overpower him.

Instantly, sweat broke out on his body.

He glanced at Su Xingjie beside her. If he remembered correctly, Su Xingjie was a high-level omega with a complex scent—mainly rich, seductive tuberose that stirred desire.

But this scent was different, more intense.

It was like a fiery, explosive chili hitting his nose and throat, yet it carried an indescribable sweetness, the kind only a high-level omega’s complex scent could have.

He looked at Su Xingjie, his expression complicated.

Su Xingjie quickly noticed he was analyzing pheromones and asked, “What are you trying to do?”

Yan Qingqiu stepped in front of Su Xingjie, shielding her. As expected, he was a scumbag—professing love to her one moment, then giving her best friend predatory looks the next. She shoved Fu Ye hard.

“I’m warning you. If you dare think about Xingjie, I won’t just knock your dog’s head crooked—I’ll chop it off and feed it to the dogs.”

Fu Ye stumbled back a few steps, the scent growing stronger. He looked at Yan Qingqiu and selectively released a wisp of his own pheromone. Soon, both Su Xingjie and Yan Qingqiu caught the scent.

Su Xingjie reacted quickly, grabbing Yan Qingqiu’s arm tightly.

Yan Qingqiu felt her neck heat up rapidly, her glands welcoming the sudden pheromone. Yes, her glands liked this scent.