Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 24
24:
Yan Qingqiu froze in place.
Fu Ye grabbed her arm, trying to pin her against the wall. Sensing he’d detected her pheromones, Yan Qingqiu no longer dared to release any. She raised her hand and fiercely struck his arm.
Fortunately, having been handled by Song Qingre before, Yan Qingqiu had some experience. Fu Ye couldn’t overpower her.
But their strength difference was stark, and Yan Qingqiu was in her heat.
She threw a few punches, but Fu Ye grabbed her wrist and pressed it against the wall. “Can you stop being so violent? Last time, you hit me too…”
Bang!
Su Xingjie landed a punch square on Fu Ye’s head.
Fu Ye’s head tilted, stars bursting in his vision.
“Let go, or I’m calling the police!” Su Xingjie shouted.
Dazed, Fu Ye swayed. Yan Qingqiu seized the moment to slip away and called for help on her phone.
That scent was unmistakably an omega’s pheromone.
Fu Ye released a bit more of his own pheromone. Yan Qingqiu was unaffected, but Su Xingjie couldn’t hold up—her phone slipped to the floor.
Fu Ye grabbed Yan Qingqiu again, more directly this time. Since she wasn’t releasing pheromones, his fingers brushed her shoulder, pushing aside her hair with the intent to reach her neck. He spoke softly, “Don’t move, I just want to check…”
“Look at your mother…” He was clearly trying to touch her. Yan Qingqiu snapped. “Fu Ye, you filthy jerk! If you dare touch me, I’ll stab you to death, you idiot! Go die!”
She kicked wildly, tears of anger welling up.
As she cursed, Fu Ye’s body suddenly lurched to one side.
Yan Qingqiu thought she’d kicked him, but looking up, she saw Song Qingre. Like a savior, she threw herself at her, clutching Song Qingre’s clothes. “Wah, he tried to touch my gland! It hurts so much!”
Song Qingre’s brow furrowed.
Fu Ye, still propped against the wall, tried to explain, but Song Qingre gave him no chance. She kicked his knee, scraping it against the wall before he crashed to the ground, kneeling on one knee. He tried to stand, intending to fight back, but a surge of mental force slammed him down.
The onslaught left him no room to resist.
Song Qingre’s breath hitched, either from rushing over or rage at the scumbag. Her cold eyes brimmed with contempt and fury, looking down at Fu Ye. The tip of her black shoe seemed ready to pierce his throat.
Her mental force was formidable, not animalistic like a male Alpha’s but like a warped, otherworldly dimension, sucking people in, twisting, and tearing their minds apart.
Her mental strength was as terrifying as her art.
“Qingre…” Fu Ye’s lips moved, struggling to stand as his body felt ripped apart. “You…”
He was on the verge of breaking. “Your mental force… pull it back…”
The two omegas felt no impact, only the two Alphas were clashing.
Fu Ye grimaced in pain, instinctively pushing back with his own mental force, trying to make Song Qingre, a fellow Alpha, submit. But Song Qingre only frowned and kicked him again. “Are you insane?”
She glared at him coldly. “You’re releasing pheromones here?”
Her oppressive mental force crushed him again. Yan Qingqiu, leaning against the wall, noticed Su Xingjie’s poor state. She moved to help, but bending down made standing back up difficult. Still, her resilience kept her upright.
She wanted to curse.
Song Qingre didn’t confront Fu Ye head-on. She first helped Yan Qingqiu up, then quickly grabbed Su Xingjie, who had collapsed, pulling her up.
Su Xingjie was in bad shape, clenching her fists. When Song Qingre grabbed her, her fingers felt scalded. Su Xingjie explained, “I tried to suppress it with my pheromones… but I couldn’t. He was about to touch Qiu-bao’s gland.”
Yan Qingqiu felt utterly wronged, her eyes red with anger. “Yes! He tried to touch me with his filthy hands. So disgusting!”
Fu Ye, like a wolf, stared intensely at Yan Qingqiu. Unable to sense if she was an omega through mental force, he used pheromones to lure her. That strange scent was definitely coming from her.
He took a step forward, but Song Qingre’s mental force formed a barrier. Her power was lethal, catching Fu Ye off guard. He stumbled, growing more unwilling to give up the closer he got to failure.
Yan Qingqiu was his prey.
“Scumbag… you filthy scumbag…” Yan Qingqiu stood beside Song Qingre, unleashing a torrent of verbal attacks, her lips trembling. Her glands loved the scent, but her entire being rejected Fu Ye’s. “Your pheromones are freaking disgusting!”
Seeing the situation, Fu Ye panicked. He only wanted to test if Yan Qingqiu was an omega, not start a conflict, but things had spiraled out of control.
“Sorry.”
Yan Qingqiu felt nothing but disgust and hatred for him.
Yet he still asked, “Qiuqiu, why aren’t you using pheromones?”
Su Xingjie was in rough shape, and Song Qingre, while protecting Yan Qingqiu, pulled her up too. She shot Fu Ye a cold glance. “There’s another omega here. Releasing pheromones, are you trying to kill someone or make a fool of yourself?”
“I…” Fu Ye pressed, “What about her mental force? Where’s hers?”
Song Qingre ignored him, leading Yan Qingqiu away while keeping Su Xingjie close, grabbing her shoulder to pull her back.
Su Xingjie’s tuberose scent was overwhelming, even affecting Song Qingre. She frowned and said, “Rein in your pheromones.”
Both omegas looked at her. Yan Qingqiu wondered if she’d been found out, she didn’t know how to retract omega pheromones yet.
Su Xingjie mumbled, “Sorry.”
Her condition was visibly worse than Yan Qingqiu’s. She’d tried to overpower Fu Ye’s pheromones but failed against his stronger ones.
When an omega’s pheromones clash with an Alpha’s, the omega takes a hit regardless of strength. Su Xingjie staggered, saying, “I have suppressants in my office. Help me get there.”
Luckily, her office was just down the corridor.
“Where’s your staff?” Song Qingre asked.
“All upstairs, busy,” Su Xingjie gritted her teeth, feeling them ache as her body grew weak and numb.
She made a quick call. Soon, the elevator opened, and someone blocked Fu Ye from approaching.
Su Xingjie pushed open her office door, rushing to her desk. Her momentum sent her crashing into the chair. She yanked open a drawer, grabbed a suppressant, and jabbed it into her neck.
Pressing the needle’s end, she injected the suppressant, squinting as her body slumped back, her chest damp from the heat.
“Mmm…”
Outside, Yan Qingqiu let out a muffled groan, her legs buckling. She stumbled forward, her chin hitting Song Qingre’s shoulder. Song Qingre half-held her, gently stroking the back of her neck.
So fragrant.
She liked this scent.
Compared to her earlier lively craving for Fu Ye’s pheromones, she preferred this—soft, gentle, embracing her restlessness.
Fu Ye watched from a distance, not daring to approach. The two women at the door held hands, embracing.
Song Qingre’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly savoring the hug. Her gaze held a mix of rediscovery and reluctance to let go.
Vigilance and warning forced him back.
Fu Ye sensed something was very wrong.
Yan Qingqiu’s words were incoherent, her disgust for him absolute. Song Qingre’s affection for him was fading too, was their love dying?
It was happening too fast.
Why was Song Qingre, who once loved him, becoming his rival, stealing his prey?
Su Xingjie’s staff rushed over, blocking Fu Ye. His own team, upstairs negotiating, heard their boss had been attacked and hurried down. Both sides clashed, pheromones thick in the air.
They tried talking to ER’s people, who weren’t fools. “You targeted our company and nearly triggered our director’s heat!”
“Forget passing through, we’re not letting you leave now.” They surrounded Fu Ye’s team, waiting for Su Xingjie’s orders.
Yan Qingqiu leaned on Song Qingre’s shoulder, inhaling her clean, reassuring scent.
Su Xingjie stepped out, pausing at the sight. Her gaze lingered for a moment before she asked, “Qiuqiu, do you need a suppressant? I have Alpha ones here.”
Sweat beaded on Su Xingjie’s neck, a small bl00d droplet forming on the side.
Yan Qingqiu tried to stand, but her legs trembled.
“No need,” Song Qingre said, patting Yan Qingqiu’s shoulder and holding her waist. “She didn’t use mental force to avoid affecting you and got suppressed twice. She’s not in a good state for suppressants right now. You can handle your company matters. I’ll take her back.”
Song Qingre led her out. Su Xingjie followed but, seeing Fu Ye, her anger flared.
Her staff surrounded him, keeping him away from Yan Qingqiu, who glared at him fiercely as she passed.
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She wanted to scream curses at Fu Ye but held back, his mother wasn’t to blame for his actions. Instead, she yelled from the elevator, “Fu Ye, may your whole family drop dead! Hear that? Drop dead!”
The elevator amplified her voice, reaching not just Fu Ye but everyone in the ER building. People were stunned, had the lovesick girl finally come to her senses? Impressive, such backbone.
Fu Ye’s ears rang from her shouting, but he still wanted to chase after her. Despite her crude insults, at least she was talking to him. What if she disappeared completely after this? “Move!”
He roared, but the crowd was too tight.
Fu Ye felt more pathetic than Yan Qingqiu ever had.
She relied on Song Qingre to exit the elevator. An ambulance waited outside, panicking her. She looked at Song Qingre, wanting to say she didn’t need a hospital, but before she could, Fu Ye’s voice haunted her again. “Qiuqiu!”
He’d broken through the crowd. Yan Qingqiu, exasperated, threw her bag at him. It missed and fell to the ground. She shouted to Su Xingjie, “Xingjie, grab my bag! Call security! Don’t go near him!”
Fu Ye took a deep breath, his bl00d pressure spiking.
Song Qingre led Yan Qingqiu out. Her legs gave out, and nurses rushed over with a stretcher. Yan Qingqiu instinctively tried to get off.
Song Qingre reassured her, “Don’t worry, it’s just to check the level of harm he caused. We’ll make him pay.”
Yan Qingqiu was drained, her neck burning painfully. She didn’t want to let Fu Ye off. He kept running toward her, relentlessly.
“Stay away from me!”
She rallied, shouting, “Even if I die, rot, and my bones turn to dust, I won’t like you!” Bouncing on the stretcher, she propped herself up to yell, “Give up, you lunatic, you scumbag! Threatening me with money, talking about marriage—ugh!”
The nurses struggled to hold her, helplessly saying, “Miss Yan, take a break, or you’ll faint in the ambulance.”
That made her feel worse. She tried to get up to curse Fu Ye again. She’d been lively before, but now he’d nearly wrecked her.
“Want to be with me? In your dreams!”
Song Qingre held her hands down. “Alright, stop getting up. Want me to curse him for you?”
They slowly lifted her into the ambulance.
Yan Qingqiu didn’t want to go but had no strength left.
Her throat was hoarse, yet she wanted to keep fighting. Song Qingre said, “How about we get a megaphone and shout at his company later? Lie down for now.”
Imagining that scene, Yan Qingqiu finally relaxed.
She lay quietly on the stretcher, thinking she’d lost all dignity and wanted to kill Fu Ye.
In the ambulance, she asked the doctor, “What tests are we doing? I feel like I don’t need much testing.”
“Don’t worry,” Song Qingre said. “Your uncle invested in this hospital. It’s just a quick check. If you have lingering issues, he’d worry more.”
That made sense. Song Qingre added, “It’s not a gender test. One trip will do.”
Yan Qingqiu lay back, feeling awful, like a nerve in her neck had snapped, the pain keeping her from lifting her head.
At the hospital, she panicked about the tests. She tried to get up but couldn’t.
“What are you doing?” Song Qingre asked.
Breathing heavily, Yan Qingqiu said, “I don’t think normal people would curse someone out at their company. I have to do it myself. Let me up.”
The nurses moved her to a gurney, exasperated by her antics. They’d never seen someone so weak yet so stubborn-mouthed.
Some people’s bodies give out, but their mouths keep going.
“Alright, behave and get checked,” Song Qingre said, waiting at the door, her gentle words calming Yan Qingqiu’s agitation.
Yan Qingqiu wasn’t unreasonable. She cooperated with the doctor, though her expression screamed despair.
If the doctor said she was an omega, she’d…
“Overstimulated gland. Just apply some soothing cream.”
“Huh?” Yan Qingqiu sat up instantly. The doctor teased, “Quite the medical miracle, springing up like that.”
She didn’t say much, glancing at Song Qingre. In a regular room, she calmed down. She looked at Song Qingre a few times and mumbled, “Sorry…”
Song Qingre glanced back. “It’s not your fault.”
Yan Qingqiu recalled Fu Ye’s words. “He said my dad owes him a hundred million.”
And it’s my fault.
Her head ached. How could “she” be so stupid? You don’t gamble your family’s future for a crush! What good did it do?
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“I won’t do this again.”
“It’s not your fault. Why punish yourself for someone else’s threats and bullying?”
Hearing this, Yan Qingqiu’s nose stung, her last bit of stubbornness fading. “Sorry, I just feel like I shouldn’t have gone.”
“If you hadn’t, could your friend have gotten through this? Many things are uncertain, you can’t let the unknown stop you.”
Yan Qingqiu sniffled, comforted. “You’re talking over my head.”
Song Qingre looked at her earnestly, patiently explaining, “Helping your friend was a good thing. Don’t blame yourself, not even you can doubt that. Fu Ye bullied you because he’s scum. Never put yourself down, got it?”
Her bright eyes reflected Yan Qingqiu, who felt she’d heard those words before. She nodded. “Got it.”
Song Qingre handed her an orange. “Want it?”
She needed to cool off. Yan Qingqiu nodded. Song Qingre reached for a knife to cut it, but Yan Qingqiu flinched. “Swap it, swap it.”
Song Qingre switched oranges. Yan Qingqiu took it, peeling it messily and splitting it in half, giving one to Song Qingre.
“You always peel oranges like this?”
“Yeah.” Realizing her words, she looked at Song Qingre, worried that Fu Ye’s claim that she wasn’t herself had raised suspicions.
It was just an orange.
No big deal, right?
But Song Qingre’s pheromones were citrus-scented.
What if “she” used tricks to tease her?
Yan Qingqiu shifted gears. “It’s been years, I’ve grown up. I’ve got more tricks now and don’t eat the usual way.”
Her fingers were sticky with juice. Song Qingre handed her a tissue. Yan Qingqiu wiped her hands, and Song Qingre sat, her voice soft and hard to read. “So, bored with new tricks and back to the old way of eating?”
Same as before.
That scared her.
Yan Qingqiu said, “The classic is the best flavor.”
She popped a piece in her mouth.
A nurse knocked. “Family, step out for a moment.”
“Coming.” Song Qingre handed her uneaten piece to Yan Qingqiu. Worried the nurse might expose her, Yan Qingqiu crept to the door to listen.
Thankfully, the nurse didn’t. “No major issues, but avoid stimulation. Look at how irritated her gland is.”
“Got it, thank you.”
Song Qingre took the advice.
Back inside, Yan Qingqiu scrambled to the bed. Song Qingre said, “Sit for a bit or head back?”
Yan Qingqiu felt going back might reveal something. “Later. Can you get me some water?”
Song Qingre brewed jasmine tea. Yan Qingqiu held the cup, the warmth burning her fingers. She blew on the leaves and sipped. Tasty.
Song Qingre sat quietly beside her, not smiling. Yan Qingqiu gripped the cup, the heat scalding her fingers.
“Don’t tell my dad.”
“With this mess, it’s hard to keep it quiet.”
Yan Qingqiu realized, yeah, shouting at his company with a megaphone would make it worse.
“Explain honestly to uncle. He won’t be mad.”
Song Qingre’s advice reminded Yan Qingqiu of the housekeeper’s update. Whenever “she” messed up, Song Qingre would guide her. “She” listened sometimes, but Song Qingre never scolded her, always patiently pleading for her to behave. Her gentleness and patience were only for “her.”
Song Qingre had a great temper, occasionally “force-hugging” her playfully, not like Fu Ye’s obsessive need to touch her gland.
The rain lightened that evening. They’d come by ambulance, leaving umbrellas and raincoats at ER.
Song Qingre draped her suit jacket over Yan Qingqiu’s head and called a car, helping her in.
“Here for a pregnancy check? My wife’s doing one today too,” the driver chatted.
Yan Qingqiu quickly dropped her hands. “Yeah, yeah, my wife’s pregnant, a few months along. We’ve even picked a name.”
The doctor was shocked. “Didn’t expect that, she’s an omega?”
Yan Qingqiu sneaked a glance at Song Qingre, who sat primly, not angry, gazing out the window with a slight smile.
“Weird.”
The car stopped outside the villa. Yan Qingqiu, still under Song Qingre’s jacket, walked in with her. Yan Fu’s car was in the yard.
Inside, Yan Fu was home.
Song Qingre told her not to lie but fibbed herself. “She was bored, and I had work at the studio, so I took her along.”
Yan Qingqiu took off the jacket. Maids fussed over her, asking, “Miss, are you okay? You should’ve had Fu Ye arrested!”
Yan Fu’s face was stern, not angry at Yan Qingqiu but furious that his daughter was bullied, and he couldn’t retaliate.
His fingers clenched, knuckles white.
Yan Qingqiu approached, sitting to the side. “Dad, don’t hide it. I know everything.”
Yan Fu sighed, unable to be mad at her. “He dared to force himself on you. He’s asking for it.”
When she didn’t respond, he said, “We can scrape together a hundred million. I’ll sell a few houses to pay him off, and we’ll cut ties. This isn’t your fault, don’t worry. Eat and drink as usual.”
It was “her” doing. Yan Qingqiu, new to this world, hadn’t known about this connection between the families.
What a trap to transmigrate into.
The system’s goal was to knock some sense into the scumbag, and their conflict was set early.
Even a god couldn’t fix this mess.
“Can we really manage it?” Yan Qingqiu asked worriedly.
“Who’s your dad? Don’t stress,” Yan Fu said.
She looked at Song Qingre, who stayed silent. Yan Qingqiu’s heart raced, sensing danger. She wanted to share the burden, but everyone treated her like a princess, making her feel guilty for enjoying this cushy life.
Yan Fu smiled. “Go sleep. I told you not to go out in the rain, but you keep running around. Take a hot bath.”
Yan Qingqiu nodded obediently, heading upstairs, still preoccupied with the issue, bathing glumly.
When she came out, Song Qingre sat on her bed, holding a bottle of essential oil and soothing cream. Yan Qingqiu draped a towel over her hair. A maid knocked.
“Miss, need help drying your hair?”
“No, I’ll do it.” Yan Qingqiu flopped on the bed. Song Qingre grabbed a hairdryer, and she didn’t stop her.
Yan Qingqiu pulled out her notebook from under the pillow, writing: [Hero saves beauty, deduct 100,000 yuan]. Feeling it lacked sincerity, she added: [Excellent after-sales service, bonus 10,000].
Song Qingre reminded her, “You haven’t deducted for the massage.”
[Essential oil massage: 298]
Song Qingre said, “The oil’s expensive.”
“It’s from my house. You’re just providing on-site service.”
“Fair point. Qiuqiu, so thrifty, such a good homemaker.”
Her teasing didn’t make Yan Qingqiu smile.
Song Qingre lifted her hair, seeing the red, swollen gland on her neck, hardened from the earlier provocation.
“Fu Ye tried to touch my gland today…”
Song Qingre’s fingers grazed it.
“Be gentle. Jerk.”
The light touch made Yan Qingqiu breathe heavily against the bed. This wasn’t soothing cream—it was like chili, stimulating her gland. To avoid losing composure, she grabbed her phone for distraction.
“What are you doing?” Song Qingre asked.
“I’m ordering a funeral band online to wail at Fu Ye’s house and send wreaths. I’ll disgust him to death.”
She scrolled frantically but found no such service. Switching apps, she saw a trending topic on Weibo:
#SuXingjieReleasesAllModelTestReports
#ERDeclaresRejectionofIllegalModels
#FuYePubliclyForcesOmegaSenttoPoliceStation
“Xingjie’s killing it!”
Yan Qingqiu clicked the trend. At 7 p.m., Su Xingjie released the test reports, explaining their silence was due to screening other models immediately. She also revealed Fu Ye’s public pheromone coercion of an omega.
The internet was slamming Fu Ye and supporting ER.
Yan Qingqiu stood, seeing an opportunity. If the Yan family accused the Fu family of bad faith now, they could turn things around.
She rushed to find Yan Fu, noticing Song Qingre had left. She muttered about the missed massage but sniffed her arm—fragrant. She’d already been massaged.
Song Qingre returned to her room, closing the door to take a call.
Xiao Fu: “Boss, the test results are in.”
“What does it say?” Song Qingre asked.
Xiao Fu: “If there are no other partners or sexual experiences, and it’s purely emotional, they’re basically fated.”
No response came.
“Boss?” Xiao Fu probed.
“Send me the report.”
Xiao Fu hung up, sending detailed photos of the hospital report.
Song Qingre opened the images. The results were clear:
Compatibility: 99%
One percent higher than hers. One percent.
She gripped her phone tightly. If it were paper, it’d be crumpled. The screen cracked before she snapped out of it, loosening her grip.
ER’s statement worked, restoring their reputation. Netizens tore into the Fu family, even dragging their sponsored artists.
Terminating contracts without discussion? No collaboration spirit. Obvious clout-chasing.
Blacklist them, kick them out of entertainment!
ER vowed to pursue breach-of-contract penalties, warned peers about backstabbing artists, and cleaned house, apologizing for the delayed response.
Who’d blame ER now? No other company would cut off its own arm like that. Fans adored Su Xingjie’s cool, decisive director vibe.
As for the scumbag who bullied her, Fu Ye was relentlessly roasted, with people tagging the capital prison, urging him to “step on a sewing machine.”
But the Yan family couldn’t ride this wave. Yan Qingqiu’s obsessive pursuit of Fu Ye wasn’t just industry gossip, it was public knowledge online.
Rather than caring about Yan’s product quality, people preferred watching Yan Qingqiu fall out with her dad over targeting her crush, then continue chasing Fu Ye.
Her love-obsessed image was like an unfixable mess. People urged her to learn from Su Xingjie, wondering why the sisters were so different.
Reading the comments, Yan Qingqiu wanted to drag everyone to ER to witness her cursing out Fu Ye.
Su Xingjie called, asking if she wanted help clarifying with security footage, worried about her
.
“Not yet,” Yan Qingqiu said. “You’re in a strong position. If people think we’re ganging up on Fu Ye, we’re screwed.”
She sighed. “Make bank, sister. I’ll come to you if I need help, no hesitation.”
Maybe I’ll borrow money from you someday.
After hanging up, she scrolled through more trending topics.
Was this the curse of being a villainess?
Everything she did backfired. Could she piggyback on Song Qingre’s protagonist aura?
Thinking it over, she called Yan Fu while heading downstairs.
The weather cleared, the summer heat fading with a refreshing breeze. Song Qingre sat in the living room, painting, her hair swaying in the wind, untouched by the outside chaos, a pleasing sight.
The call connected to the speaker.
Yan Fu was in a meeting. He signaled everyone to stay quiet.
A sweet voice came through, surprising the room. Usually, Yan Qingqiu’s calls to Yan Fu were explosive, like she was ready to bomb the company. Privately, people said she was born into the Yan family for revenge.
“Dad, I just had an idea. Can you design a product just for me, with packaging I like? I’ve been using our essential oils, and they’re so fragrant. They don’t have packaging, so can I design one? I want something unique!”
The request was a bit unreasonable but aligned with some executives’ thoughts. It was time to revamp their outdated packaging—it looked too cheap, like a knockoff product.
But they worried if Yan Qingqiu took the product to Fu Ye, it’d worsen things.
They exchanged glances, determined to stop her later.
Her sweet voice continued, “Please, Dad~ Just give me some inventory. I won’t misuse it. I’ll behave.”
“Alright, come to the company to pick it up.”
Yan Fu hung up, resuming the meeting.
Everyone was stunned, speechless.
The phone rang again.
Yan Fu thought it was his daughter, but his kind expression darkened when he saw the message, nearly smashing his phone.
Fu Ye sent a curt text: [Is Qiuqiu an omega now?]
Then: [If you agree to our marriage, I’ll back off and help save Yan Corp.]
Fu Ye wasn’t just demanding the hundred million back.
He was playing dirty, privately urging partners to cancel orders with Yan Corp. Goods piled up in warehouses, unsold, and R&D for new products stalled.
The Yan family’s situation grew dire, the meeting’s atmosphere heavy. Some urged Yan Fu to reconsider, saying the company wasn’t just his—if his reckless daughter ran off to the Fu family with products, what then?
“How about agreeing to the marriage? Your daughter’s always wanted to marry him.”
“Yeah, don’t be stubborn.”
The usually refined Yan Fu snapped, pointing at them. “Get out! It’s not your place to judge my daughter!”
Yan Qingqiu hung up and looked at Song Qingre.
“Talked to uncle?” Song Qingre asked.
She stuffed her phone in her pocket, nodding, and sat on the sofa, her eyes darting around before settling on Song Qingre. She inched closer. From online rumors, she knew a bit about Yan Corp.’s troubles and wanted to help.
She had an idea but hesitated to share it.
Nervously, she pinched her palm.
Song Qingre, legs crossed on the sofa, noticed her tension. Her fingers tapped the book cover. “Got an idea? Go for it boldly. You’ll never know if it works unless you try.”
“But it’s a critical moment. I can’t mess up,” Yan Qingqiu sighed. “I’ve made too many mistakes before. One more, and I can’t fix it.”
Song Qingre looked at her, smiling. “Scared you’ll have no way back? Or no confidence?”
Yan Qingqiu didn’t admit it, but she feared both.
She wanted Song Qingre to design the new packaging. Her paintings were stunning, topping trending lists during her exhibitions.
Yan Qingqiu still had money from her dad, and Song Qingre owed her hundreds of thousands—perfect for a collaboration.
The problem was, if sales flopped, it’d be a loss.
Her plan was rough: leverage Song Qingre’s popularity for the design, then set up a raffle where buyers could win her paintings to boost sales.
But what if no one bought… and she lost a painting too?
“I’ll think it over.” Yan Qingqiu headed upstairs, needing a better sales plan. Her brain wasn’t cutting it.
The housekeeper, watching her run around, felt bad. “Miss hasn’t been eating or sleeping well lately. It’s all Fu Ye’s fault for telling her.”
Song Qingre, holding her book, said softly, “Maybe she’s not as naive as you think. She’s pretty smart.”
The housekeeper nodded. “True, Miss was clever as a child. Just got a bit love-obsessed growing up, dulled her sharpness.”
Back in her room, Yan Qingqiu lay on the bed, rolling from headboard to foot. As a regular worker, she only knew overtime, not business decisions. How could she fix this loss?
Think, think!
Time was tight. More time would’ve helped.
A hundred million! She wanted to slap this body.
How could “she” do this? Why bankrupt the family? Dad gave her a million a month for spending, bankruptcy meant nothing but debt. So stupid!
Yan Qingqiu almost suspected “she” was swapped, not the real daughter.
No way, too melodramatic.
She tweaked her plan, preparing to visit the company that afternoon.
Looking at products was more useful than just thinking about them. Yan Qingqiu changed into a more formal outfit, a dress shirt paired with jeans.
When she went downstairs, Song Qingre had already left.
Over the next few days, Yan Qingqiu went to Yan Corp every day. She didn’t know much, and her ideas were impractical without real-world application—mere talk on paper. But running around the company and using Yan’s products gave her confidence. Their brand was genuinely great, especially the essential oils!
No wonder her dad didn’t want to change things, the quality was already top-notch.
That evening, the housekeeper drove her home.
She spotted someone standing at the Song family’s door next door, also dressed in a suit. Curious, she had the housekeeper stop the car and asked, “Is that Song Qingre’s relative?”
“Probably not.”
The housekeeper knew Song’s relatives, and none looked so unsettling.
The person noticed them and approached, asking, “Does Miss Song Qingre live here?”
The car window rolled down, revealing a strikingly beautiful woman. She sized him up with starry eyes, not with disdain but with wariness, as if she thought he was up to no good.
“What do you want?”
“I’m a real estate agent,” Cai Wenxuan said, passing his business card through the window. She was so stunning he worried his card might carry germs and dirty her hand.
Yan Qingqiu grew more suspicious of his intentions. She didn’t take the card, letting it fall to the ground, and asked, “What are you really doing here?”
“Miss Song contacted us a few days ago to sell her house.”
The housekeeper was shocked, turning to him. “That’s a bad joke. Miss Song doesn’t need money, what’s she selling her house for? What are you actually here for?”
Cai Wenxuan, afraid of being mistaken and kicked out by security, hurriedly explained, “I don’t know the details, but Miss Song did contact us to sell her house. We estimated it at about three hundred million, but she said she was in a hurry and would take two hundred million. A buyer reached out today, so I came by, but I couldn’t get through to her.”
“Go back for now. She’s busy today and didn’t bring her phone,” Yan Qingqiu said, signaling the housekeeper to drive on, ignoring Cai Wenxuan.
Back home, she went upstairs. The housekeeper watched her, wanting to speak but hesitating. After a moment, he saw Yan Qingqiu at the window, occasionally standing on tiptoes to peek next door.
She called Song Qingre, but there was no answer. Grinding her teeth, she waited until ten p.m., and Song Qingre still wasn’t home.
Yan Qingqiu bathed and flopped onto her bed, poking at a bottle of essential oil.
Unable to hold it in, she wanted answers. She called again, and this time it connected.
The background was noisy—chaotic voices, people calling out “sister,” “brother,” “let’s have a drink.”
It didn’t match Song Qingre’s quiet artist vibe.
Yan Qingqiu clutched her phone, confirming it wasn’t malfunctioning, and frowned. “Where are you?”
“At a bar, working on a design. Hold on, I’ll step outside.” Song Qingre spoke briefly with two people, covering the phone as she left the bar. She checked the time—already ten-thirty.
“Sorry, I got off work late. Want me to come home and give you a massage?” Song Qingre’s tone was gentle. “Please don’t deduct my pay.”
Yan Qingqiu got straight to the point. “Someone came to see your house today. Are you selling it?” She couldn’t fathom why Song Qingre would need to sell.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She waited for a response. The other end was quiet, just soft breathing. Yan Qingqiu pressed, “Did you hear me?”
“I heard,” Song Qingre replied.
“Why are you selling your house?”
This time, Song Qingre paused for a long while. The static carried her voice, and though she hadn’t said much, Yan Qingqiu’s ears burned. She didn’t know why she was asking when she already sensed the answer, but she couldn’t explain what she wanted to hear.
“It’s just sitting there, full of weeds. Selling it makes sense.”
Yan Qingqiu frowned. “What kind of joke is that? Even ghosts wouldn’t believe it.”
In the dark of night, neither could see the other, and they seemed to be at a standstill. Yan Qingqiu leaned against the headboard, not on video call. In the dimming screen, she saw her flushed face.
Song Qingre didn’t want to dwell on it. “Some things are better left understood in your heart. Saying them out loud loses the artistry. I’m about to drive, so I’ll hang up.”
Yan Qingqiu’s heart raced, as if the person on the other end was watching her. Her fingers, gripping the bedsheet, grew warm.
“Got it,” she said softly.
“Hm?”
She moved her lips. “Drive safe.”
“Alright.” Song Qingre was about to hang up, grabbing her car keys. But as she went to insert them, Yan Qingqiu’s words threw her off, and the key missed the slot.
“From today on…” Yan Qingqiu pounded the bed with her fist, “…I’m your…” She paused, then whispered, “little slave!”
After a beat, she softly called, “Master.”