Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 29
29:
Song Qingre lifted her from the bathtub, water splashing onto the floor. She set Yan Qingqiu down on the tiles and grabbed a towel to dry her off.
Yan Qingqiu glanced at Song Qingre’s fingers. Unlike earlier, when they trembled intensely against her, they were steady now, no trace of shaking.
“Is my neck red from you pinching it?” Yan Qingqiu asked.
Her wet golden hair dripped water. Song Qingre’s fingers gripped it firmly, squeezing out droplets.
Song Qingre draped the towel over her head, drying her hair. “Don’t say things like that to tease me. I can tell you’re doing it on purpose.”
Hair half-dry, Song Qingre carried her to the bed. Yan Qingqiu lay flat for a moment before burrowing under the thin blanket, leaving a spot for Song Qingre.
Song Qingre didn’t join her right away. Yan Qingqiu secretly lifted her arm to sniff, there was a faint fragrance, even a hint of sweetness…
When Song Qingre finally lay down, Yan Qingqiu turned to stare at her. After a moment, she placed her hand on Song Qingre’s leg.
Song Qingre didn’t react. Yan Qingqiu bit her tongue, then put Song Qingre’s hand on her own leg. “Touch me.”
They were pressed close, breaths mingling softly.
The lights were off. Yan Qingqiu’s lips, repeatedly bitten, ached slightly.
After a moment, she turned sideways, stifling a hum as she watched the curtains flutter, likely stirred by her own breathing.
Song Qingre was behind her, her breath grazing Yan Qingqiu’s ear, making it burn with each touch. Yan Qingqiu wanted to shift, the sensation overwhelming.
Swallowing, she said, “I want to ask you something.”
Song Qingre didn’t respond. Yan Qingqiu felt she was talking too much, but if she didn’t speak, she might only gasp. Breathing heavily, she said, “I was so awful to you before. Why are you still…”
“So good to you?” Song Qingre finished, her tone heavy.
Yan Qingqiu flinched as Song Qingre pinched her. “We’re already this close, and you’re still hiding things, what’s that about?”
Yan Qingqiu felt she was the most open one here. On a night like this, with this atmosphere, they should be spilling their hearts, being honest.
“I mean, I treated you so badly, why are you still kind to me?” Yan Qingqiu asked. “You even went all out, borrowing me a billion.”
Even without words, Yan Qingqiu could sense Song Qingre’s heavy breathing. Her restraint was palpable, the more she held back, the more dangerous she seemed.
It was beyond normal.
Song Qingre’s teasing didn’t seem purely about getting her into bed. If that was her goal, she could’ve taken advantage when Yan Qingqiu was drunk, leaving her wrecked.
After a long silence, so long that Yan Qingqiu thought she wouldn’t answer, Song Qingre spoke softly. “Because I thought… if I waited until you were older, until you’d tasted the world’s ups and downs, you might warm up to me a little.”
Yan Qingqiu thought:
Tasting the world’s coldness only makes people colder, crueler.
In reality, it numbs you.
“Qiuqiu…” Song Qingre pressed closer, calling her name.
That phrase echoed in her mind:
I feel like her calling you ‘Qiuqiu’ is like begging.
Begging you, after you’ve seen the world’s harshness, to realize I treat you best and warm up to me.
Yan Qingqiu blinked, her still-damp hair curling slightly. She really fit the villainess role perfectly.
The moment she transmigrated, everything turned vicious.
Occupying someone else’s body, enjoying their privileges.
Their breathing synced, rising and falling. Yan Qingqiu closed her eyes, parted her lips, and called out:
“Song… Song Xiao Re…”
Song Qingre’s fingers froze. “What did you say?”
Her voice was heavy. Yan Qingqiu gripped the sheets, terrified of being kicked off the bed. “Nothing… nothing, I said I hiccupped.”
Their movements paused. Yan Qingqiu closed her eyes to sleep, feeling relieved after releasing the tension. Behind her, Song Qingre grabbed a tissue, and Yan Qingqiu nuzzled inward, letting her help. I’m destined to be pampered!
Later, Song Qingre leaned against the headboard, motionless for a long time. Yan Qingqiu’s fingers rested on her chest, trying to calm her erratic heartbeat.
How did she let Song Qingre’s nickname slip?
You’re so wild!
That night, Yan Qingqiu slept with wet hair, dreaming of an orphanage. She stood dazed, surrounded by darkness, a large paulownia tree in the courtyard’s center.
The tree was withered, its leaves yellowed.
Children ran around, laughing and playing games. One tripped over her leg, and she clutched her fingers in pain, it hurt too much to be a dream. She felt even sadder. Tucking her small shoes inward, the kids gathered, staring curiously.
“Why isn’t she playing?”
“She says her dad will come get her.”
“Poor thing, she doesn’t know we’re all abandoned. How’d she get here? Anyone got candy for her?”
The little girl sat quietly, eyes brimming with tears, panicking. “My dad will come get me…”
“I want to go home.”
More people gathered, the dream twisting chaotically. Some came, some left. Someone crouched before her. “Why not go? That uncle’s family is well-off. Didn’t he buy you a doll?”
Yan Qingqiu shook her head, refusing. She didn’t like dolls.
I’m waiting for my dad to come get me.
“But… Do you know why you’re here?” they said gently. “If you go with them, you’ll have a new dad. Your old one might not come back.”
“But… but, but… will she come get me?”
She tried desperately to recall a name but couldn’t. Looking up, she shook her head—it wasn’t the person she was waiting for.
“Your mom?”
“I don’t know. She’ll come get me, she will.”
She repeated, I’m not abandoned, they’ll come for me…
If she waited long enough, they’d realize she was gone and come back. She had to be good.
The dream grew chaotic. Suddenly, she was grown, leaving the orphanage. The ground was covered in yellow paulownia leaves, the flowerbed around the tree filthy. She wanted to rest but found no clean spot.
Turning to leave, she heard again, “My dad will definitely come get me…”
She picked up a leaf, looked back, and saw nothing.
A nightmare.
In the quiet night, a car horn blared—once at first, then louder, repeatedly, as if venting.
Yan Qingqiu woke up, gasping.
Her mind was foggy, her temples throbbing. She rubbed them, biting her fingers hard, feeling she’d forgotten something.
Her eyelashes fluttered.
How did I end up in an orphanage… was I abandoned?
In a daze, her thoughts unclear, she slipped back into sleep. This time, she dreamed someone gently patted her arm, soothing her to sleep.
The person beside her propped themselves up. When Yan Qingqiu woke and got out of bed, they walked to the window, peering outside. They shone their phone’s light, then drew the curtains.
Returning, their gaze fell on a small notebook on the nightstand. Its allure was strong. Even after one or two times, they weren’t used to it, still worried someone might wake and see their true self.
—
The night was full of dreams. Yan Qingqiu slept deeply, waking past ten, refreshed. She changed and went downstairs, spotting Song Qingre in the living room, working on something.
Song Qingre held a needle, threading it at the door.
The sun was dim, the sky overcast. Beside her was a box, and she strung scattered white pearls into a bracelet.
Oh, it was Yan Qingqiu’s broken bracelet from yesterday.
Leaning on the railing, Yan Qingqiu propped her chin, quietly watching. Miss Song was so skilled, her hands so deft.
Song Qingre worked meticulously, especially when handling the pearls, as if toying with something she wanted to taste.
Yan Qingqiu imagined holding a pearl on her tongue, then lifted her chin. “Come on, string it nicely for me.”
Tying the knot, the bracelet looked almost as good as before. Song Qingre looked up. “Put it on yourself, or should I bring it up?”
Before she finished, Yan Qingqiu dashed downstairs, extending her hand. Song Qingre tugged the string, securing it on her wrist.
Yan Qingqiu raised her arm, fingers tracing the pearls. She’d found the bracelet in her jewelry box and liked wearing it. Twirling a pearl, she asked, “Have you eaten?”
Song Qingre nodded, tidying the needle and thread.
The butler had a maid bring food. Yan Qingqiu ate at the table, asking about Yan Fu, who’d stayed late at the company.
She sneezed mid-bite, her nose itchy. The butler asked, “Caught a cold?”
Yan Qingqiu nodded. “Seems like it.”
The butler reached for the phone to book a doctor. Yan Qingqiu rubbed her nose. “No need for the hassle, just grab some cold medicine.”
The butler insisted on booking. “You’re an Omega now; we can’t be careless. What if it’s rhinitis? Seasonal changes can be serious.”
Yan Qingqiu was shocked. She did have seasonal rhinitis, sneezing every fall. If it was rhinitis, she’d need to see a doctor soon to avoid constant discomfort.
“I’ll take her to the hospital on my way to work,” Song Qingre offered.
“Fine.” Yan Qingqiu nodded, sneezing again, muttering, “Still feels off.”
Eating and wiping her fingers, she pulled out her notebook. After Luo Xi’s timeline yesterday, she wanted to piece together the plot.
In her first year of high school, she and Song Qingre were close, she even liked her. In her second year, she met Fu Ye, who chased her, and she was hot and cold with him (why, unclear). In her third year, she tormented Song Qingre, breaking her completely. Then she chased Fu Ye, who no longer liked her (her true nature exposed, but how? Just fighting Luo Xi? That didn’t add up. If it did, Fu Ye didn’t seem that into her to begin with!).
Combining Su Xingjie and Ye Sichun’s words, she dyed her hair in the summer of her third year, either before or after graduation.
Regardless of Fu Ye’s role, per Luo Xi, she and Song Qingre were a recognized couple. He butted in, ruining things. Without him, they might’ve had kids by now.
She muttered, Male mistress.
Fuming about her OTP, she texted Su Xingjie. Su Xingjie replied quickly: [You said you wanted to look mature for college, so you dyed your hair after graduation.]
Yan Qingqiu sent an OK.
She had a rough idea, something went wrong with the hair-dyeing, but whether it was scripted was unclear.
Something else was mixed in.
She asked: [Did Song Qingre say anything?]
Su Xingjie: [She was hospitalized.]
Yan Qingqiu: [Why?]
Su Xingjie went silent, her status stuck on “typing” for ages without a reply.
Finally, she sent a “?”. Su Xingjie responded with a cryptic message: [How could you forget that?]
Worried she’d slipped up, Yan Qingqiu changed the topic: [I was thinking about going to ER today. Got a cold, heading to the hospital first.]
(ER = Su Xingjie’s Company Name)
Su Xingjie replied instantly: [I’ll go with you. Which hospital?]
Yan Qingqiu: [No need, Butler Dong’s with me.]
She got annoyed, propping her foot on the chair. Why did “she” act so barbaric, like a pig?
Why hurt others so recklessly?
Did “she” do something worse than burning paintings?
Yan Qingqiu rubbed her temples. Until the world’s mechanics and the game’s full script were clear, she had to avoid revealing too much. She needed to be cautious, this game was full of indistinguishable enemies and dangers.
Glancing at Song Qingre, who was on her phone, seemingly working, Yan Qingqiu drew a bold question mark in her notebook.
She shoveled food with her spoon, calling the butler. “I want cola. Why’s the food so bland lately? Is the chef slacking?”
Because it’s an Omega differentiation diet!
The butler brought coconut milk. She’d eaten seafood yesterday as an exception, but now it was back to light flavors. He soothed her, “Don’t you love coconut milk?”
“Gets old after a while,” Yan Qingqiu said, taking a sip, unimpressed. Checking her phone, she replied to a message: [Don’t worry about me, bye, love you~.]
After eating, she called Song Qingre. Curious, she peeked at her phone and panicked, wanting to cover it.
How could Song Qingre write that at home?
“Close it! What if someone sees?”
Song Qingre turned off her phone, pulled a small device from her pocket, and pressed a button, printing what she’d written.
Yan Qingqiu stared at the title: “Slave Rules”.
Oh no.
“I need to enjoy my master privileges before you pay off the debt, or I’ll lose that feeling,” Song Qingre said, sitting on the sofa, glancing at her. “When I was your lover, you made me do this and that. Now I’ll make you do this and that.”
Yan Qingqiu felt like she’d lost her memory, she didn’t recall any of it. “What did I do? I avoid you every day.”
“Massages, upgraded to premium service. When you were in heat, I touched your…”
“Okay, okay, okay!” Yan Qingqiu cut her off, then felt defiant. She’d even spanked her!
Seeing the butler grab the car keys, she covered Song Qingre’s mouth. “Stop! Fine, I’ll touch you there too!”
She felt she’d come out ahead!
Removing her hand, Song Qingre added reluctantly, “I didn’t roll over eighteen models.”
Can’t that be over?
“Let’s go, Miss,” the butler called.
The butler drove, Yan Qingqiu slouched in the back, hands in her shallow pockets.
She stayed quiet, sneaking a look at Song Qingre’s note:
[1. Yan Qingqiu picks up and drops off Song Qingre from work.
2. Yan Qingqiu must answer Song Qingre’s calls 24/7.
3. No matter who Yan Qingqiu is with, she must come to Song Qingre at one call.
4. Yan Qingqiu cannot have intimate interactions with anyone but Song Qingre.
5. Song Qingre can add conditions at will during the relationship.
6. Please eat, drink, and sleep with Song Qingre.]
Yan Qingqiu burst out laughing, unable to stop, giggling with each read.
Song Qingre looked puzzled. “What’s funny?”
A billion for these terms? Not playing with a slave, she’s practically keeping her.
Who wouldn’t call that a steal?
She couldn’t hold it in. “You wrote ‘please’? You’re too inexperienced.”
She kept glancing at the butler, worried he’d hear.
Song Qingre countered, “How should I write it? This is bad enough, no?”
Looking at her serious face, Yan Qingqiu felt her entire view of her needed a reset. “Lower your voice… As a master, you should make your slave…”
“I can’t hear you,” Song Qingre sighed, then called, “Uncle Dong!” Yan Qingqiu scrambled to stop her. Song Qingre said, “Uncle Dong, raise the soundproof partition.”
“Oh…” Yan Qingqiu pulled back her hand. With the front blocked, she got bolder. “Eating and drinking are there? You’re hiring a maid, not a slave.”
Song Qingre seemed embarrassed, retorting, “I was being gentle since you’re so sensitive to pain. But I’m actually pretty twisted.”
“Gentle my ass. I cried so hard yesterday, and you didn’t comfort me,” Yan Qingqiu teased, then felt shy. Look at me, I’m the twisted one.
Song Qingre went quiet, clearly stumped, reassessing her. “You acted so mortified, I was afraid you’d jump off the balcony if I went too far… But you didn’t say anything. If you’d called me ‘good sister’ and said you wanted a kiss, I’d have helped. You didn’t.”
“Besides… didn’t I stop your tears? Ugh, this is embarrassing. I couldn’t write it.”
So embarrassing.
Yan Qingqiu bit her lip, silent, slightly regretful. Being stubborn didn’t mean they couldn’t talk. She wasn’t that rigid, some things she could accept.
She crossed her legs, toes curling.
Song Qingre noticed the small gesture.
“Qiuqiu’s still the same as before,” she said with a faint smile.
Yan Qingqiu huffed, glancing at the note. Song Qingre edited a couple lines per her suggestion: [Per scientific formula, eight cups of water daily, provided by Yan Qingqiu.]
Yan Qingqiu’s kidneys clenched. “No, no, no! Don’t start with extremes, tone it down. Who can handle eight times a day?”
Song Qingre looked at her. “Fine. Today we follow mine, tomorrow yours. Write what you want, and I’ll do it.”
“…Huh?” Yan Qingqiu was stunned. “I was just talking! I thought masters would know what’s up and be bold. You’re so innocent.”
“No worries, your ideas are good. I’ll take them.”
Song Qingre added, “I’ll write some, you write some, we’ll combine them. I’ll add a massage.”
“…The naked kind?” Yan Qingqiu tested.
Song Qingre paused her pen, adding, “You said it, let’s do it.”
Yan Qingqiu wanted to roast her, this brain was too inflexible. She’d get scammed out of money and wouldn’t even know how to charm beauties, let alone date later.
Thinking this, she couldn’t help but give more pointers.
System: [Pfft.]
System: [You’re courting death.]
The voice was loud, startling Yan Qingqiu. She replied: [What do you mean, courting death? I just couldn’t stand her being so innocent and said a bit more.]
System: [Innocent enough to give you an oil massage?]
“Fair point,” Yan Qingqiu said aloud.
“Hm?” Song Qingre looked at her. “You think it makes sense too? Then let’s upgrade the oil massage to full-body. You said both could be rubbed, and I think that’s great.”
“…”
System, lazily: [What if she’s playing you? Gets you riled up, then when you resist, says it was your choice?]
No way.
Song Qingre’s note was a mess of edits. Finally, she said, “One more thing I was too shy to mention before. Can I now?”
Yan Qingqiu eyed her warily. “Go ahead.”
“Your novel was really good. Work’s boring, and I want to read it when I’m tired to spark inspiration.”
“…”
Insane.
“Please,” Song Qingre said, stuffing the revised note into her hand. Yan Qingqiu resisted, but Song Qingre pushed it into her palm. “Don’t crumple it.”
Yan Qingqiu pushed it back, but the butler stopped the car. “Miss, we’re here.”
He came around to open her door. As the note nearly fell, she grabbed it, cursing inwardly.
She stuffed it into her pocket, bending to get out.
The butler handed her a mask. “Miss, wear this. The hospital smells are strong, and you’re a bit famous now, I don’t want you to get recognized.”
“Mm.” Yan Qingqiu didn’t refuse. Per the butler, she should’ve worn a hat too. She glared at Song Qingre through the mask.
Song Qingre, unhurried, said, “Rule nine: No getting mad at or snapping at Song Qingre.”
“Heh, I’m laughing so hard,” Yan Qingqiu said.
The butler went to find the doctor. They waited on the floor, Yan Qingqiu’s phone buzzing with photos from Su Xingjie for approval, saying they’d posted promos on Weibo.
Yan Qingqiu replied with an OK and checked Weibo. The official account posted about the project’s concept and praised the models’ artistry.
Su Xingjie’s personal account reposted, gushing: [Thanks, Qiu-bao, for helping. Clearing out my company’s models was a big sacrifice. Thanks for featuring them in your stream and stepping up during ER’s tough times to shoot promos for free. Love you, Qiu-bao.]
Yan Qingqiu felt shy, she was the one borrowing models. She liked the post. Soon, Yan Corp’s Weibo liked and reposted, thanking ER.
The fans of both companies, once at odds, stopped bickering, and no one called Yan Qingqiu lovesick anymore. A win.
Fans were also begging her to debut.
Acting wasn’t on her radar, she knew her limits, but their urging flattered her beauty, which made her happy.
ER seized the moment, and the photos hit trending lists, going viral. Marketing accounts and big influencers reposted, some even drawing fan art.
Su Xingjie sent data screenshots: [Qiu-bao, ever thought of modeling? Join my company, I’ll make you a star.]
Yan Qingqiu was tempted, fingering her pearl bracelet. She showed Song Qingre the message, saying, “Thanks.”
“Mm.” Song Qingre didn’t react much.
Yan Qingqiu was grateful. Without her, she’d be forced to marry Fu Ye. “When Dad’s back tonight, I’ll ask when we can repay you.”
“No rush. Uncle needs the money now,” Song Qingre said. The butler called Yan Qingqiu for her checkup. Song Qingre stood. “I haven’t enjoyed my slave privileges yet.”
Yan Qingqiu gritted her teeth.
In the exam room, she removed her mask. The doctor, after who-knows-what from the butler, checked her nose, felt her glands, and scanned with a device. “Allergies and a cold. Not serious, but the meds are complex. I’ll prescribe them.”
The butler nodded. Yan Qingqiu pulled her mask up, waiting. Her phone buzzed repeatedly. As she went to check, the butler returned with a bag.
Her sharp eyes caught the label: [Omega Heat Medication]. She snatched the bag, asking, “Did you… look at the meds?”
The butler frowned. “Not yet. Why? Wrong ones? Let me check.”
“No!” Yan Qingqiu hid the bag behind her, glancing at Song Qingre. “I’m fine. Go to work.”
“Alright, take care,” Song Qingre said, uncapping a nasal spray. As she leaned to spray it, Yan
Qingqiu saw the label: “Omega Nose Clear”. Her eyes widened, terrified Song Qingre would notice.
She snuck a look at the butler, who was focused on his phone.
So close!
“Done!”
“Mm,” Song Qingre said. “No glaring at me.”
Yan Qingqiu switched tones. “Aww, thank you~”
Song Qingre glanced up, lips twitching. Yan Qingqiu grabbed the meds, stuffing them in the
bag. “You can go now.”
“Good girl,” Song Qingre smiled.
Yan Qingqiu felt she’d miscalculated, bringing both of them to the hospital without a bag to hide things was a mistake.
She looked at the butler. “Butler Dong, let’s go home!”
He adjusted his glasses. “Coming.”
The three took the elevator down. Yan Qingqiu clutched the bag tightly to avoid discovery.
Downstairs, Song Qingre didn’t rush to the car. Craving a snack, she bought a paper bag of hawthorn balls, getting an extra bag from the vendor.
Yan Qingqiu took them. “These are mine.”
Song Qingre didn’t object. She got in, and the butler drove her to her studio first, then Yan Qingqiu home.
With the seat beside her empty, Yan Qingqiu exhaled heavily. What a day, constantly on the edge of disaster. She slumped back, exhausted. Fierce Alpha’s tired!
Her nose still itched. She sniffed, reclined the seat, and popped a hawthorn ball in her mouth, sweet and tangy. As she ate, the car stopped.
“What’s up?” she asked, sitting up.
“Car trouble,” the butler said, reassuring her. He didn’t force-start it, getting out to open her door.
“I’ll call for repairs. Sorry, Miss.”
Great, now the car is broken. At least it didn’t crash.
“No big deal.” Unlucky day. Yan Qingqiu got out quickly, offering a hawthorn. “Have one.”
The butler took one. “Your stuff fell.”
He reached to pick it up, but Yan Qingqiu saw it, the Slave Rules. She dove into the car, snatching the paper. This time, she noticed a line on the back:
[7. Only call Song Qingre ‘Master,’ ‘Darling,’ or ‘Honey.’ All pet names are exclusive to Song Qingre, no one else.]
Look at that, still innocent?
So innocent her teeth ached.
She got out, hugging the hawthorns and meds, grinning as she pulled out her phone to snap a pic to mock Song Qingre. Her phone rang, a strange number. She frowned, rejecting it, but more calls
came. Damn it, was Fu Ye nuts?
“Miss, what’s wrong?” the butler asked.
“Fu Ye’s harassing me. Can you help me change my number later?” Yan Qingqiu said.
The system chimed in: [Not recommended, Host. If you deactivate this number, it may affect key plot points, leading to mission failure.]
Yan Qingqiu: “I’ll use dual SIMs!”
A message came: [Luo Xi said you asked about high school. Why not ask me directly? I know more.]
She almost shut off her phone, but another message arrived: [Luo Xi’s not always truthful. Wouldn’t asking me be clearer?]
Fair point, but wasn’t it just that drama?
She is fighting Luo Xi over a guy, and the guy is siding with his sister.
She replied: [I’ve got the gist. If you’ve got more, I’m listening.]
Fu Ye’s response came fast: [Can you visit me in the hospital? I’m sick, I won’t do anything.]
Yan Qingqiu thought that it was a coincidence, she just left the hospital.
It was only a street away, but she didn’t want to go. She hadn’t gotten revenge last time. She texted: [Say it straight, no games, thanks. If I see you, you’re dead.]
She was curious, maybe there was a hidden twist?
But she wouldn’t fully trust Fu Ye.
Something felt off, her car breaking down right when Fu Ye wanted to meet, like it was manipulated.
Fu Ye: [I really miss you.]
Yan Qingqiu cringed at the cheesy line, familiar from chase-the-wife crematorium dramas where the male lead grovels.
Her teeth nearly melted from the sappiness.
Fu Ye lay in a hospital bed, typing slowly. Nurses urged him to rest, but he shook his head.
A message arrived:
[See your mom! Talk or shut up. I’ll call the cops for harassment.]
Her tone wasn’t joking. The more direct she was, the worse Fu Ye felt. So much had changed in days. He called, and after twenty seconds, she
picked up.
Her voice was impatient. “Speak. If you spew sappy nonsense, I’m changing my number.”
Fu Ye held the phone close. “When you and Xiao Xi fought, I knew about it early, not just passing by. I didn’t want to believe you’d do that, so…”
“Who told you?” Yan Qingqiu cut to the point.
Fu Ye hesitated, struggling. “I can’t tell you…”
“Then what’s the point of this? You won’t say who?” She was about to hang up.
“It was Qingre,” Fu Ye said.
Yan Qingqiu’s fingers froze. “Huh?”
She glanced at her phone. “That’s low, trying to stir trouble. You think I’ll believe you?”
“It was really her… She said you planned to have thugs assault Xiao Xi. I rushed over. At first, I didn’t believe it, I just thought you were mad about Xiao Xi tearing your textbook and wanted to teach her a lesson. But then you did other messed-up things, and I believed her.”
“How could I do that to your precious sister? Am I insane?”
“But Qingre wouldn’t lie…”
Yan Qingqiu wanted to say the same. Fu Ye continued, “I couldn’t help but overthink it. Qingre was close to you, and I did see you with those guys.”
“Enough, stop. This isn’t clear yet…” Yan Qingqiu was confused. She wouldn’t do something like that, but if “she” wanted to ruin Luo Xi and hired thugs, it’d make sense for Song Qingre to tell her brother…
No, that’s not right. It’s still off. Song Qingre telling Fu Ye would damage “her” reputation, and given how much Song Qingre cared about “her,” it didn’t fit.
Fu Ye said, “There’s more, high school stuff. You were hot and cold with me, sometimes distant, sometimes warm, like now. It’s like you’re a different person. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
“Nothing’s going on. I just don’t like you. If not loving you means I’m a different person, why don’t you question how I loved you so much later?
Wasn’t that a different person too? I’m sick of this. I’ll contact you later, think about what you want to say.” She hung up.
She handed her phone to the butler, her hawthorns nearly falling.
Deep in thought, she asked the butler, who’d overheard most of it. He shook his head. “I don’t know about your school days. During your senior year, Miss Song was in her first year of college. She wasn’t focused on studies, always handling your matters.”
“Oh, will anything big happen then? Did I fight with her at home?”
The butler thought, nodding. “There was something… but do you really want to hear it?”
Yan Qingqiu took a deep breath, sneezing again, unable to finish her thought.
Yan Qingqiu braced herself, torn between wanting to hear and dreading it.
“Should I write it down?” the butler asked.
“No, no, no.” Yan Qingqiu considered his writing style, she couldn’t handle it. “Don’t make recent updates too angsty. Add more kisses or something, skip the heart-wrenching stuff.”
“What do you want to hear now?” the butler asked.
“Just… tell me. I can take it.”
“You called her a pervert, a filthy lesbian… said she was a hypocrite, all fake on the surface while rotten inside. You said you’d seen how disgusting she really was.”
Yan Qingqiu’s bl00d pressure spiked, her head pounding. She stomped her foot, inspiration for a fanfic bubbling up. She rubbed her temples.
It was infuriating to hear. How could anyone say that?
The butler added, “Miss, honestly, I’m curious too. Why did you say those things about Miss Song?
The lesbian part is especially confusing. Sure, Alpha-Alpha relationships might be less convenient, but no one really discriminates anymore. I’ve thought about it a lot.” He seemed puzzled, like he wanted to say more but held back due to her status.
Miss, why were your words so vicious back then?
Yan Qingqiu didn’t know either. She hadn’t even pieced together the full story. Could Song Qingre really be some kind of pervert that “she” discovered, causing their conflict?
She opened her mouth to speak, but a ding rang in her mind.
The system, long on standby, cut in swiftly: [Congratulations, Host! For successfully deducing 50% of the first stage’s plot points, making you the fastest to progress so far!]
[We will reward you with double the gift you desire most, straight from your heart’s deepest wishes!]