Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 31
31:
The system issue was a century-defining dilemma. 365 wives, each tailored to her tastes, was no small matter. It was practically seducing her to abandon all reason.
What woman could resist such temptation?!
Yan Qingqiu clung to her sanity, pleading: [Give me a moment, some time to think, okay?]
The system snorted: [Weren’t you all cool and dismissive before? Pretty good at cursing the system, huh?]
[That was then! You’re putting me in a tough spot! Imagine 365 robots calling you ‘baby,’ ‘darling,’ ‘master,’ agreeing to everything you say, could you handle that?]
The system paused, realizing it couldn’t either, and relented: [Fine, I’ll give you a few days to decide on redemption. But if you miss the deadline, the reward’s void. Be warned, Host.]
[Got it, got it!]
Yan Qingqiu flopped onto the bed, smacking her pillow in shame and anger. Damn it, this was a tough choice! [Answer a few questions first so I can be sure.]
365 wives.
Toys? So improper.
Or 365 perfect wives with toys, what kind of scene would that be?
Stop it, brain, don’t think!
But wives… ugh, they’d be easy to notice, right?
Yan Qingqiu didn’t have a dirty mind, she was just cautious.
Muttering to herself: [How would these 365 wives appear? Just pop up out of nowhere? That would be terrifying! Can your system handle it properly? Are you even that advanced?]
System: [You can designate the environment, and we’ll deliver them one at a time daily. But if you cause a chain reaction, like getting caught, that’s on you. The system isn’t responsible for consequences. We only deliver the reward.]
Yan Qingqiu nodded, understanding.
She thought again and asked: [How long do the wives last? Like, will they disappear?]
The system’s tone turned odd: [They’re given to you, why would they disappear?]
Yan Qingqiu laughed: [If they don’t disappear and I’ve got 365 wives with no real jobs, how am I supposed to support them?]
System: [That’s your problem. If you’re not satisfied, you can cancel the redemption.]
Despite her complaints, Yan Qingqiu praised: [Gotta say, your game giving out wives? That’s pretty impressive, cough cough.]
System: [Glad you appreciate it.]
Honestly, she’d never heard of a game handing out wives. Usually, you have to find a partner or chase one yourself, and often fail.
Yan Qingqiu opened her mouth: [One last question. I don’t have to support these 365 wives, right?]
System: [I said they exist to fulfill your desires. They don’t need food, drink, or bodily functions. We’re a legit game. Of course, if you’re into that and want them to eat or whatever, that’s your call.]
Sounds like you’re driving somewhere spicy.
But I’ve got no evidence.
[So generous? Feels like you’re deliberately tempting me into something dangerous, targeting my weaknesses…]
Before she finished, the door was knocked twice. Her cheeks flushed with sweat—terrifying!
So annoying.
Not the knocker, the system.
She nearly fell for the system’s pervy trap. It had the nerve to claim it was just a robot that didn’t understand spicy stuff? It was the spiciest thing here!
Truly, no hero can resist beauty! Beauties were humanity’s lifelong weakness!
Song Qingre knocked, asking, “What are you muttering to yourself about in there?”
Yan Qingqiu steadied herself, replying, “Nothing, just on the phone.”
Song Qingre’s voice came again: “On the phone, or is someone in there with you?”
Holy crap.
Yan Qingqiu sprang from the bed. Was she that perceptive? Recalling, Yan Qingqiu wasn’t sure which words she’d said aloud.
Talking to the system in her head was a hassle, and since it wasn’t always chatty, she couldn’t break her habit of speaking out loud. She’d have to fix that.
Rubbing her chest, she was glad she hadn’t redeemed the reward.
If Song Qingre knocked and she opened the door to that? Disaster!
Worse than someone catching her with a toy, beyond embarrassing, straight-up horrifying.
Yan Qingqiu got off the bed, slipping into her slippers to open the door.
Song Qingre stood there, lips curved in a gentle smile. “Opening the door for me? Not your style.”
Her words were odd, and Yan Qingqiu didn’t get it. If she didn’t open the door, what would she do?
Feeling inexplicably guilty, she sensed Song Qingre could peer into her secrets. Despite being fully dressed, she felt exposed before her—scary.
“It’s not about style. I’m just curious, why are you knocking so late? Is something up?” Yan Qingqiu asked.
“I heard you mention ‘livestock’… What’s that about?” Song Qingre frowned slightly, speaking softly.
“Cursing someone. I was on the phone with Xingxing. Didn’t we see Fu Ye today? Chasing me in his car like a maniac livestock,” Yan Qingqiu said. “Thinking about it annoys me, so I vented a bit.”
“Oh.” Song Qingre nodded, not peering inside, as if her earlier words were just teasing. “Need an essential oil massage tonight?”
“No need. The butler said I’m a bit allergic, can’t handle strong scents. I’ll skip it tonight. Already took a bath, feeling good,” Yan Qingqiu said.
Song Qingre hummed, not lingering. “Rest early, don’t stay up too late. If you feel unwell, call the butler to take you to the hospital.”
“Got it. You too.”
Song Qingre raised her hand, and Yan Qingqiu looked up, seeing a thermometer gun. “Keep this by your bed. Check your temperature if you feel off.”
Song Qingre was pretty gentle.
Yan Qingqiu met her gaze, nodding.
The thermometer pressed against her forehead, like a playful shot. Song Qingre checked the reading. “Hm… no fever.”
Handing it over, she walked to her room. Yan Qingqiu bit her lip, clutching the thermometer, leaning out to watch her back.
The door closed, and the hallway fell quiet.
Yan Qingqiu returned to her bed, holding the thermometer, lying flat.
The whale-shaped ceiling light glowed, her movements wrinkling the sheets. Light fell on her pale skin, casting a soft halo.
She aimed the thermometer at her forehead and fired.
“Bang.” Her lips moved. “Yan Qingqiu, you’re dead.”
No slave duties tonight, she had time to roll from one side of the bed to the other. After two minutes, she checked her temperature.
Up two degrees.
Weird.
She scrolled videos for an hour, then Baidu: What if my master catches me with 365 wives?
Baidu: [Dear user, no one’s answered this yet. We look forward to your response!]
Answer it myself? Trash Baidu doesn’t know!
Cursing, she put her phone down and slept. The dream was wild—she was filthy rich, tossing cash into hotpots, living decadently. Surrounded by beauties, she lounged in their arms as they fed her milk, commenting on their looks.
Delightful, heavenly.
Suddenly, the door was kicked open. A familiar face—Song Qingre—stood there, holding a silver gun, her gaze icy.
Yan Qingqiu backed away. Song Qingre approached, stepping on her with leather shoes. Thinking she’d seduce her to survive, Yan Qingqiu touched her calf, but Song Qingre coldly pulled the trigger.
Bang. Her imagination exploded.
It hurt. She touched her head, hands sticky with red bl00d.
Song Qingre smeared the bl00d on her face, drawing a big ×, patting her cheek coldly. “You’re not her.”
Yan Qingqiu jolted awake, rubbing her face, wiping cold sweat, and panting on the bed.
Terrifying.
After a while, she checked her phone, 3 a.m. Squinting, she saw messages from Su Xingjie inviting her to dinner tomorrow.
She replied okay, then checked her chat with Song Qingre. They rarely talked, but when they did, it was spicy.
—
Morning came, the weather was cool.
Yan Qingqiu swapped her short sleeves for a white shirt and pants, tying her hair into a bun.
After breakfast, Song Qingre headed to the company. Yan Qingqiu got the car, a blue Sybil from the garage. Pressing the key, the doors rose automatically.
Song Qingre started to say she didn’t need a ride, but Yan Qingqiu pointed at her dark circles. “You’ll be too busy at work to rest. I will drive slow, you can nap on the way. Young people need to care for their health, stay up less.”
The butler prepared to get his car, but Yan Qingqiu stopped him. She’d gotten the hang of driving yesterday, and bodyguards would arrive soon. No need to treat her like a kid.
She drove slowly. Song Qingre, who’d stayed up late, was indeed tired, resting her forehead on the headrest, dozing lightly. At their destination, Yan Qingqiu woke her.
“I’ll pick you up tonight. If you’re not at the company, call me.”
After Song Qingre went upstairs, Yan Qingqiu drove slowly to ER. Morning traffic was heavy, and without guidance, she struggled. She detoured to Yan Corp, where Yan Fu sent a bodyguard to drive.
ER had no urgent tasks. Su Xingjie, in a meeting, saw her and immediately measured her proportions, asking if she’d considered modeling.
Yan Qingqiu nodded along.
Su Xingjie was thrilled, swearing to make her a star. “No more worrying about ungrateful wolves. Qiu-bao, from today, you’re ER’s top star.”
Yan Qingqiu blushed, embarrassed.
Su Xingjie measured her height and weight, asking about salary. “Top star base: 20 million yuan, plus show invites, ads, and endorsements—separate pay.” Yan Qingqiu was nearly dizzy from the figures.
Su Xingjie checked her data, stunned. “Something’s off… Qiu-bao, you’ve grown again, your bust is bigger, height up 1.3 cm… That’s fast.”
“Maybe I’ve been eating better? I’m confused too. Should I see a doctor? Yesterday they said I’m fine, but I’m nervous.”
“Don’t worry, if the doctor says you’re okay, so you’re okay. Don’t overthink or take random meds.” Su Xingjie, seeing her anxiety, suppressed her doubts.
Everyone around was perceptive, noticing her changes instantly, as if she were a different person. Yet Song Qingre, who saw her daily, said nothing.
Nor did her family express doubts.
Maybe proximity dulled their perception. With Su Xingjie, a few days apart made changes obvious.
The two friends went shopping at luxury stores, browsing jewelry. Yan Qingqiu thought she was desireless, but one lap around proved her wrong, she loved it. She bought a pearl necklace, eyed a big-carat diamond ring but hesitated—her funds weren’t that deep. Su Xingjie nearly paid, but Yan Qingqiu stopped her.
She bought bracelets and earrings, feeling like she was in a dress-up game. Leaving with bags, she’d spent 500,000 yuan.
Su Xingjie took her to ER’s physical store to try on clothes, telling her to take what she liked. Yan Qingqiu picked an autumn outfit, casually asking, “Sister, if you could have 365 wives, would you want them?”
“365 wives? What for?” Su Xingjie was baffled. “Managing three models is killing me.”
Yan Qingqiu eyed her low-V dress, admiring her figure. Su Xingjie checked the mirror, sighing, “Mediocre. Gotta tell Xiao Wen the waistline’s off.”
The store manager nodded nervously, that’s the director.
Yan Qingqiu sat, waiting as Su Xingjie tried outfits, even helping a rich lady pick clothes. Despite her killer figure, she was so abstinent, what a waste.
Softly, Yan Qingqiu said, “365 wives, all your type. During your heat, you could do whatever you want with them.”
“…Well…” Su Xingjie hesitated, wavering.
“All your heart’s deepest desires.”
Su Xingjie turned, struggling internally, swallowing hard.
Yan Qingqiu thought: See? Beauties are universal. Even an abstinent sister can’t resist 365 wives.
Tapping the table, she asked, “So, sister?”
“Sounds tempting… but realistically, supporting 365 wives is exhausting. One’s enough.”
“They don’t need food or drink,” Yan Qingqiu said.
“Then… maybe I’d check them out, to satisfy my curiosity about my heart’s desire.” Su Xingjie spoke cautiously, eyeing her. “Why ask this out of nowhere?”
“Just a random thought. What kind of earth-shattering changes would 365 wives bring?” Yan Qingqiu sighed, asking to settle her indecision and prove she wasn’t the only one tempted.
“Don’t know, but I’d probably die of exhaustion. Even ancient emperors had breaks. Getting drained daily? Too much,” Su Xingjie laughed, not taking it seriously, just thinking Yan Qingqiu was joking.
But it was odd, her friend didn’t like Fu Ye anymore and was getting a bit pervy.
From one weird path to another.
“You want 365 wives?” Su Xingjie asked.
“Not really… just thinking.” Yan Qingqiu was vague. Who’d guess with one command, she could have 365 wives—peak life, unprecedented!
Su Xingjie swiped her card, paying for Yan Qingqiu’s share too.
After, they went to “Heiress’s Back Garden,” a fancy West Tulan Ya restaurant for afternoon tea.
Su Xingjie sat on a rattan chair, spooning dessert, listening to Yan Qingqiu’s plans. Yan Qingqiu insisted she didn’t need too much hype, just let things flow.
Su Xingjie sighed, “Your dreams are as down-to-earth as ever.”
“Hm?”
“Back in school, you’d brainwash me, saying you’d be a leech, a salted fish, eating and drinking, letting your dad support you, never striving for big achievements. You always said that, but when it came to work, you were more serious than anyone.”
Talking about the past piqued Yan Qingqiu’s interest.
“Back then, Luo Xi, Zhao Jiayu, Tang Ling—they weren’t good at everything, but piano level 10, Latin dance, ballet, those basics they had down. They always held school events.”
Rich kids, indeed.
Yan Qingqiu almost asked, What about me?
Don’t tell me I was useless.
At least give the side character some high-class skills.
“You weren’t as good as them, but you dabbled in everything. Your strength wasn’t there, you were great at writing. Your novel was a hit, passed around school,” Su Xingjie said. “Though the content was pretty mature.”
Relieved, Yan Qingqiu thought, Good thing I’m not a total flop. If the side character had skills like masterful piano or songwriting, she’d be screwed—she couldn’t do those.
Earnestly, she said, “I’ve kept up with writing. Got some readers lately.”
“Really? Can I see?” Su Xingjie was curious. “I still have your old drafts.”
“Maybe later, it’s not organized yet.”
“Cool, I’ll buy your first book.”
Yan Qingqiu coughed, nearly choked by her friend’s bold claim. Publish my stuff? I’d end up in jail!
But the butler’s writing could be compiled and published—his style was solid, and could make money.
Curious, she asked, “When I dyed my hair back then, why didn’t you think I’d changed?”
Parents might miss it, excusing everything as rebellion, but friends should notice, right?
Su Xingjie pursed her lips, dodging. “Qiu-bao, wanna hit up more jewelry stores?”
Yan Qingqiu didn’t press, interrupting her concerns. “People have three phases—rebellion, growth. I’ve grown now, not as dumb as before.”
Su Xingjie didn’t mean that, she noticed Yan Qingqiu forgot things but feared probing too deep would spark questions she didn’t want to answer.
Yan Qingqiu didn’t push, patting her shoulder. “Forget that, let’s shop.”
Su Xingjie took her to luxury stores, trailed by a posse of bodyguards.
Before entering, Yan Qingqiu glanced at nearby shops. “Those are boring. Let’s check out budget stores, grab some small trinkets.”
She thought a 10,000-yuan accessory was pricey. Bracelets and necklaces were enough, spending tens of thousands felt like she could blow a million in a day.
As they shopped, Su Xingjie whispered, “You’re better now. Before, you were… kinda weird.”
Yan Qingqiu held a hairpin, listening.
Coincidentally, as they entered, Luo Xi exited the luxury store next door, freezing, then snapping photos of them.
Su Xingjie frowned, glaring back. Luo Xi took more shots. “Qiu-bao, let’s go,” Su Xingjie urged.
Yan Qingqiu turned, clapped, and bodyguards blocked the entrance. Luo Xi quickly stopped and bolted.
Yan Qingqiu bought two hairpins, 5 yuan each, with fuzzy spring chickens labeled “Best” and “Friend” on their chests.
Paying, she clipped both chicks to her hem, glancing at Su Xingjie.
Done shopping, bodyguards carried their haul. Su Xingjie returned to the company to draft a contract, setting a signing date. Yan Qingqiu had bodyguards drop her at Song Qingre’s studio.
She texted Song Qingre, but Song Qingre messaged first: [I’m dining with a client tonight, I’m heading back alone.]
Yan Qingqiu: [I’m downstairs at your company.]
She typed that work was more important, no need to go together, but before sending, Song Qingre replied: [Wait, I’m coming down.]
Yan Qingqiu: [Not meeting your client?]
No response.
Seven minutes later, Song Qingre appeared, smiling. “Are you joining me for dinner, or am I going back with you?”
Yan Qingqiu hesitated. “Your work’s more important, right?”
Song Qingre waited for her choice. Yan Qingqiu said, “Go meet your client alone.”
Song Qingre paused, then said seriously, “I order you to come with me to meet the client.”
Yan Qingqiu glanced around, bodyguards pretended not to hear, staring at trees. Damn it, ordering her now? She stood straight, nodding. “Yes, Master, please get in.”
Mimicking the butler, she opened the car door, raising her hand over Song Qingre’s head as she got in.
Circling to her side, she let a bodyguard drive, her slow driving hurt her butt after a while.
Sitting, Song Qingre noticed the chicks on her hem. “You bought it today? Pretty cute.”
Yan Qingqiu unclipped them, nodding. “Meant for Xingxing, but she’s ER’s art director, into luxury stuff. It felt too cheap to give her.”
Song Qingre flicked the chick, making it bob and peck her finger. “Mind if I take one?”
Yan Qingqiu handed it over. The yellow chick nodded when pressed. Song Qingre played with it, asking, “What did you do today?”
Yan Qingqiu recounted shopping, including the budget store. “Xingxing seemed uncomfortable, I shouldn’t have gone in.”
“She might’ve been uneasy because Luo Xi showed up, worried they’d mock you. She was trying to protect you, not because the stuff was cheap,” Song Qingre said.
Yan Qingqiu turned. “Really?”
“If she’s a good art director and friend, she wouldn’t judge you,” Song Qingre said. “Though… I’m sure Su Xingjie wouldn’t.”
Yan Qingqiu was surprised.
In “her” old chats, Su Xingjie had gone along with “her,” badmouthing Song Qingre harshly. Yet Song Qingre spoke up for her.
Worthy of a female lead, such class.
“Then give me the chick back. I’ll give it to Xingxing.”
Song Qingre shook her head, lifting the chick away, smiling faintly. “Nope, it’s mine now.”
Yan Qingqiu huffed, grinning out the window.
Song Qingre’s client was a foreigner, dining at a nearby French West Tulan Ya restaurant. Yan Qingqiu couldn’t follow their talk, so she ate while Song Qingre negotiated. Home food was bland lately, this was a treat.
Occasionally, Song Qingre glanced over, pressing her plate to signal not to overeat. Yan Qingqiu didn’t argue, plenty of dishes to sample.
The deal took a while. By the time they signed, it was 9:30 p.m. Song Qingre drove back, flanked by bodyguard cars.
“Why did Uncle get you so many bodyguards?”
“I asked for them.”
Yan Qingqiu yawned, rubbing her eyes. “Think they can see at night with sunglasses?”
“Probably.”
“I can’t tell them apart.”
At home, Song Qingre looked up at the starry sky. “Last starry night for a while, won’t see it for two seasons.”
Back inside, she didn’t seem tired, grabbing a canvas to paint. Yan Qingqiu, yawning, pulled a chair to watch.
She couldn’t hide her thoughts. Seeing Song Qingre paint so earnestly, she couldn’t connect her to “snitching.” It didn’t seem like her.
Instead of guessing, she decided to ask. Running through her questions to avoid slipping up, she sat beside Song Qingre and brought up the past. “The high school fight with Luo Xi, was it you who snitched?” Worried it sounded accusatory, she added, “It’s in the past, I’m not holding grudges. Just want to know the full story.”
Song Qingre didn’t answer, still painting the night sky. She rubbed her fingers, set the oil brush down, and mused, shaking her head. “That was so long ago… I don’t really remember.”
Yan Qingqiu looked at her skeptically, leaning to see her face. No way—Luo Xi and Fu Ye remembered, but she, a key player, didn’t? That’s odd.
She stared, watching for micro-expressions, people’s faces don’t lie.
Song Qingre seemed reluctant to answer. After being stared at, she looked up, not denying it, dipping her brush in paint. “Maybe I did say something. I don’t recall now, I might’ve said it too many times before.”
“Huh?” Yan Qingqiu hadn’t expected such a frank admission, let alone “many times.” Shocked, she stared. “Don’t say that to mess with me.”
Don’t steal my villainess role!
Song Qingre said gently, “You’ve forgotten more than I have, haven’t you?” She looked back at Yan Qingqiu. “I forget because I don’t want to bring it up. What about you, Qiuqiu?”
Yan Qingqiu’s heart skipped, sensing her anger.
Song Qingre rephrased: “You really don’t remember why I told Fu Ye about it?”
…
Forgotten, no memory.
Yan Qingqiu wailed internally. Idiot, you should’ve probed first.
Wait, she was dizzy—how’d the topic turn to her? She asked because she didn’t know!
Unable to answer, she resorted to antics, being unreasonable was the best dodge. “I know, but I want to hear your take. I was young and hotheaded back then, and didn’t see the full picture. Only now am I regretting and trying to understand.”
Song Qingre hummed, saying, “You fought Luo Xi out of spite, wanting her to regret. Uncle’s business was already struggling then. If you’d hurt Luo Xi, you know the consequences? The Luo family’s richer, in real estate. If you touched her, her dad would’ve marked your record, likely gotten you locked up. If I told Fu Ye directly, you’d take a small hit and learn not to act out. If I had been vague or hidden from him, you’d have kept acting brave and untouchable for love, doing more unthinkable things. If I wanted you in trouble, I’d have gone to the Luo’s or Uncle directly, ensuring you’d suffer. Back then, you couldn’t tell what mattered more. Clear now?”
It made sense.
It was the first time Song Qingre spoke so much at once, schooling her again. Yan Qingqiu nodded blankly.
She agreed, ganging up on a girl over a guy wasn’t human behavior.
Song Qingre had sacrificed a lot.
Yan Qingqiu felt a pang of sympathy.
“Didn’t you suspect it was me back then? Asking now to confirm?” Song Qingre’s lips curved, teasing. “Questioning me after all this time?”
“No, no, that’s not it. I just wanted to know how disobedient I was,” Yan Qingqiu said softly, careful not to sound too heavy.
“Do you remember anything else? Anything that stands out?” she asked cautiously.
Song Qingre thought. “Don’t recall.”
Then added, “Too much happened. You humiliated me so much, I had to learn to forget some things.”
Yan Qingqiu’s heart caught, understanding now.
She remembered, she just didn’t want to say.
“Oh.”
The deepest memories were the deepest hurts, weren’t they?
She just didn’t want to reopen old wounds.
“But I don’t deny I might’ve told Fu Ye,” Song Qingre said, painting. “In anger and pain, people do anything. I might’ve said something to him.”
“Anything else? If not, I’ll keep painting.”
“Paint, paint.” Yan Qingqiu’s eyes wandered, staring at the canvas. Song Qingre’s strokes were gentle and precise.
Suddenly, she flung paint hard onto the canvas.
“Hey, why ruin it?” Yan Qingqiu felt it was a pity, the starry sky was so vibrant. She reached to stop her.
Song Qingre said coldly, “Destroying beauty. The last starry night should be painted like this, it has to be.”
Yan Qingqiu didn’t get art, but watching her made her hands itch to try.
Sneaking glances, she sensed Song Qingre was still upset. Regretting ruining the mood with her big mouth, she said, “Don’t worry, I don’t believe Fu Ye’s nonsense. I was just curious. Look, I got Dad to assign bodyguards to keep him away. I’m done with him, if he comes near me, I’ll crush him, beat him dead.”
Song Qingre added coolly, “He touched your gland last time.”
Yan Qingqiu had almost forgotten. Gritting her teeth, “Beat him to death.”
Song Qingre resumed painting, then went upstairs.
That night, Yan Qingqiu returned to her room, messing with paints. She coated the canvas white, then added red, drawing circles. After a few tries, the wet paint mixed messily.
The canvas looked dirty, but she touched it up.
Holding the brush, thinking of the night’s mess, she ravaged the canvas.
Sure enough, emotion made it look better, expressing all her artist’s thoughts.
Tch.
Not bad.
If she got famous, this’d be a masterpiece.
But her white pants got dirty. She set the brush down, rushed to the bathroom to clean them, and couldn’t let a 10,000-yuan pair go to waste.
She texted Song Qingre for stain removal tips. No reply. Was she really still mad?
She didn’t seem that petty.
In the next room, Song Qingre arranged her painting, then made a call.
It connected quickly.
“You told Qiuqiu I was the one who snitched back then,” Song Qingre said coldly, stating, not asking.
Fu Ye, already flustered by her call, went silent after her words. Steadying himself, he said, “Sorry, Qingre, I just…”
Song Qingre said nothing.
Fu Ye was no longer anxious.
Lowering his voice, Fu Ye said, “Sorry, I just didn’t want to have any misunderstandings.”
“There’s no misunderstanding,” Song Qingre continued. “You went to her and told her I was the one who snitched.”
“I…” Fu Ye felt a pang in his chest, knowing he’d acted dishonorably. “Sorry, Qingre, did Qiuqiu give you a hard time?”
“Give me a hard time? Your choice of words is sharp.”
Fu Ye knew he’d wronged her. Song Qingre said, You stirred a small matter into something big, Fu Ye. You’ve redefined my view of you.”
Her words carried disappointment, laced with an indescribable disgust.
Compared to Yan Qingqiu’s aggressive confrontation, Song Qingre’s coldness was a lethal blow, leaving Fu Ye no room to argue. He could’ve kept quiet, but he’d impulsively made the call. His pettiness was laid bare before Song Qingre.
“Because I thought you seemed to… towards Qiuqiu…”
Song Qingre hung up.
Fu Ye tried calling back, but it wouldn’t connect. He’d been wrong, no doubt. When Yan Qingqiu pressed him, he hesitated to spill. But he felt Song Qingre’s feelings for Yan Qingqiu crossed a line. Why’d she call? To confront him? Or to win him back?
His feelings for Song Qingre were real. During his messy entanglement with Yan Qingqiu, Song Qingre had been his healer, his untouchable white moonlight. Now, he’d hurt that very moon.
Fu Ye realized his wording was off. He shouldn’t have said Song Qingre “snitched”—more accurately, she’d told him out of concern. His clumsy mouth…
—
An hour later, in the dead of night, two different phones received messages from the same person.
Fu Ye got: [Qiuqiu will probably bring bodyguards to talk to you tomorrow.]
Yan Qingqiu got: [Bring your pants over later, I’ll wash them for you.]
A few short words, enough to make hearts skip a beat.
Was it a concern?
The phone sat on the table, its screen dimming slowly. The room sank into silence—no wind, no light. Song Qingre sat on the bed, immersed in this colorless void, sinking, sinking deeper.
After a moment, her fingers gripped the phone.
Song Qingre lowered her gaze, found a number on the screen, and dialed.
“Bodyguard agency? Arrange eighteen bodyguards for me tomorrow. The toughest ones, preferably with a criminal record but reformed.”