Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 33
33:
Yan Qingqiu knocked on the door outside. No one answered. After a few seconds, she raised her hand to knock again, but still no response. Biting her lip, she stepped back, leaning against the railing, her fingers lightly tapping on it.
Not opening the door? How infuriating.
Turning around, Yan Qingqiu rested her arms on the railing, her fingertips gently brushing its surface. She looked down at the living room’s layout below.
A maid cleaning downstairs glanced up and saw Miss Omega in a sultry nightgown, thin straps hanging off her shoulders. Her movements caused one strap to slip down to her elbow.
Her posture accentuated her full figure, her fair skin like creamy pudding in a box, ready to spill sweetness at any moment.
She stood there, lost in thought. After a while, she returned to the door, raising her hand as if to knock but holding back. Instead, she flicked her finger against the door, wincing from the sharp pain. Clutching her finger, unsure whether to put it in her mouth or press it against the door, she finally held it to her cheek, frowning in discomfort.
Miss is so cute!
The maid, Du Huan, considered asking if she was okay. Upstairs, Yan Qingqiu raised her hand to knock again but didn’t. She slowly returned to her room.
Shortly after she left, the door opened.
Song Qingre, fully dressed, stepped out, her gaze lingering on the neighboring door. She stood there longer than Yan Qingqiu had, long enough for the beta maid to sense the alpha’s mental energy radiating from her.
Despite her apparent anger, Song Qingre closed the door gently, showing no haste.
The maid thought: Miss Song is so restrained. If it were me, I’d rush into Miss’s room.
The maid lowered her head, resuming her cleaning. Looking up again, she saw Yan Qingqiu squatting on the floor, slipping something under Song Qingre’s door.
“!!!”
Will Miss Song come out soon…
This back-and-forth tonight, is this the start of a ship?
—
Without an alpha to ease her body, Yan Qingqiu burned through the night. By morning, she was drained, feeling like she’d dreamed something unclear. Lately, her dreams were a jumbled mess—sometimes she remembered them upon waking, but they vanished by the time she got out of bed.
She smacked her head. Lack of sleep causing memory loss? Or is the system messing with me?
In the courtyard, Song Qingre was talking to the butler, pointing at a wall as if planning to knock it down to connect the two villas.
Yawning, Yan Qingqiu leaned against the door and asked the maid, “What are they talking about?”
The maid replied, “They’re discussing tidying the courtyard, whether we should help or hire professionals.”
Yan Qingqiu’s yawn halted. “Why the rush?”
“The grass is withered now, easier to clean. With the sun out, we can air things out. It’s more convenient,” the maid explained.
There was another key point: Song Qingre, an alpha, staying in the same house as Yan Qingqiu, an omega, wasn’t entirely appropriate.
Though Mr. Yan hadn’t mentioned it, Song Qingre herself said they should be cautious.
“This morning, I heard her tell Mr. Yan she had avoided suspicion,” the maid added.
Yan Qingqiu frowned. “Avoid suspicion?”
The maid nodded.
That was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
Hadn’t she and Song Qingre had plenty of contact? Was “avoiding suspicion” even necessary?
As she thought, a phone rang inside.
Yan Qingqiu turned and saw Song Qingre’s white phone ringing.
Glancing at the two outside, she went to pick it up, noticing an unknown number. Curious about who it was, she considered answering, but her own phone started ringing too.
The two phones buzzing together were noisy. Song Qingre, hearing it from outside, came in and asked, “Why not pick up?”
Yan Qingqiu grabbed her own phone, squeezing it tightly, and swiped to answer.
It was Su Xingjie, brimming with excitement. “Qiu-bao, you free today? If not, I’ll take you to a show. It’s the first autumn show, come feel the vibe.”
Work’s downside: when you want to stay home, you get dragged out. Yan Qingqiu loved seeing beauties and would usually rush over at Su Xingjie’s invite, but now she wanted to keep an eye on Song Qingre.
If she went out and came back to find Song Qingre had moved out, no more massages, what then? The thought tugged at her heart.
Maybe bring Song Qingre to the show?
Su Xingjie asked again, “Qiu-bao, you listening? Why no reply?”
Song Qingre was looking at her own phone.
“I’m listening. Let me check…” Yan Qingqiu caught Song Qingre’s glance but got no response after a few seconds.
“Alright, come pick me up,” she said.
Hanging up, she rubbed her sore waist. “I’m going to a modeling show this afternoon.”
“Go ahead,” Song Qingre said. “Got enough money?”
She handed Yan Qingqiu a card.
Yan Qingqiu glanced at it, tempted to ask how much was on it but curbed her greed. “I’m not shopping, I’m learning.”
Su Xingjie arrived early. As she entered, Song Qingre handed keys to the butler, and they headed next door.
Su Xingjie looked curiously, then called Yan Qingqiu to the car. Yan Qingqiu grabbed her bag, clapped her hands, and a bodyguard opened the door.
“This…” Su Xingjie, seeing 18 burly men, stepped back in shock.
Yan Qingqiu, unfazed, patted her shoulder to calm her, urging her into the car. Pausing before getting in, she glanced at the neighboring house.
Since Song Qingre returned, she’d lived here. Yan Qingqiu had gone from fear to familiarity.
Sigh, I got used to us coming and going together. Now she’s moving out, and I’m panicking.
“Stop the car here for now,” Yan Qingqiu called to the driver.
The bodyguard parked, and Yan Qingqiu looked toward Song Qingre’s gate. The yard was overgrown with weeds, vines tangled everywhere. She beckoned two bodyguards to follow her.
At Song Qingre’s villa door, it felt lifeless.
[The lock faces inward, locked from inside. She’s locked herself in.]
Recalling the butler’s description, Yan Qingqiu looked at the lock, touching it lightly. It dangled, clanging against the iron gate.
Perhaps for yard cleaning, the lock wasn’t secure. It hit the gate with a rusty, muffled sound, like a sparking wire. Yan Qingqiu stepped back twice.
Su Xingjie, waiting nearby, didn’t understand her actions. When Yan Qingqiu got in the car, she asked, “Don’t you hate Song Qingre?”
“Uh… yeah,” Yan Qingqiu said, feeling guilty.
Luckily, Su Xingjie didn’t press, or she’d have no answer.
She hadn’t eaten at home. Su Xingjie took her to West Tulan Ya for breakfast, temporarily forgetting the moving issue.
Home cooking was getting worse. If not for her status, she’d devour everything here.
Being a young lady sucked, takeout in her old life was better. How did rich people live like this?
Torture.
After eating, they strolled. Su Xingjie bought her things occasionally. Wandering, Yan Qingqiu felt idle. “Don’t I need to go to the office?”
Su Xingjie thought it was great having her around. “If you want, you can.”
Yan Qingqiu sighed. “Sis, act like a boss. Teach me to be a model, not a princess.” She took the bags from Su Xingjie. “You’re making me feel bad.”
Su Xingjie nodded, smiling. “I’ll try. It just feels a bit awkward.”
The sisters bantered shyly. The show was at night, so they wandered until heading to the venue.
Luo Xi, fuming, brought a group to the West Tulan Ya restaurant near the show venue, aiming to ambush Yan Qingqiu. Fu Ye might let it slide, but she wouldn’t. She was set on avenging her
“Brother Fu.”
Well-informed, she’d heard Yan Qingqiu was debuting, and Su Xingjie would likely bring her to network.
A friend nudged her. Yan Qingqiu’s car arrived.
Luo Xi looked. Four cars parked at the venue, doors opening simultaneously. Eighteen black-clad men poured out, wearing sunglasses and earpieces, hands clasped in front. The front two wore black vests, muscles bulging with tattoos, as if suits couldn’t contain their brawn—ready to brawl.
The blue Sybil car’s door rose slowly. A blonde female bodyguard stepped out, followed by another, both with hair and height matching Yan Qingqiu’s. Finally, Yan Qingqiu and Su Xingjie emerged, indistinguishable at a glance.
Yan Qingqiu, also in sunglasses, scanned the area, then removed them. The two female bodyguards mirrored her, removing theirs.
Luo Xi, usually composed, was dumbfounded. “She even got decoys!?”
Her friend was stunned too. Despite their elite backgrounds, no one pulled this kind of stunt. “Not even foreign presidents have this setup. Is she that scared of getting jumped?”
“She’s not scared of a beating, she’s dodging bullets! She’s insane!” Luo Xi fumed. “Psycho!”
“Are we still fighting?” Her friends eyed their group of four or five—slim and fragile, likely to get crushed. “I heard your brother got beat, but not by 18 guys. That’s embarrassing. If my boyfriend got jumped like that, I’d dump him.”
They didn’t dare charge in, urging Luo Xi, “Sister, don’t hang yourself on one tree. The world’s full of hot guys. Those two decoys next to Yan Qingqiu are gorgeous.”
“Yeah, Fu Ye’s beating’s not your problem, or ours. No need to get hurt. Getting beat up publicly? Humiliating.”
“Shut up!”
Luo Xi wasn’t stupid. Outnumbered and outmatched, charging in was suicide. But letting Yan Qingqiu off without a lesson was shameful too. She cursed, “That slut’s freaking 24 and obsessed with 18! Everything’s gotta be 18 people!”
Her raised hand froze, digging into the table in frustration.
So pissed.
Yan Qingqiu removed her glasses, raised her hand, and her bodyguards marched neatly into the venue, practically shouting, “Welcome, Young Miss!”
They quickly corrected, “Welcome, Miss Su!”
Su Xingjie, in flats, nearly tripped.
The scene was a bit tacky but thrilling.
As a kid, Yan Qingqiu dreamed of this grandeur—sitting under a big tree at the orphanage, 18 cars rolling in, suited elites stepping out, saying, “Welcome home, Young Miss. Your parents have arranged a private jet in Country ABCD, awaiting your return for steak and champagne.”
Then she’d be the coolest kid in the orphanage.
Look, my dad loves me!
Fulfilling her childhood dream with her bestie? Worth it.
Yan Qingqiu asked Su Xingjie, “How’s that, sis? Like it? I set this up for you. Thanks for signing me.”
Su Xingjie had never seen such a spectacle. They’d faced danger before, mostly verbal spats, sometimes physical, but Yan Qingqiu was fearless.
Not that Su Xingjie was scared, she just wasn’t used to it. Wanting to lead, she felt Yan Qingqiu’s aura was stronger and stayed by her side.
“You never did this before,” Su Xingjie said.
“I never had Fu Ye beaten before either. This is different. People will want revenge. We stay cautious, nothing wrong with that. You hire bodyguards for your models’ shows, right?”
“Uh, yeah, makes sense,” Su Xingjie nodded.
“More than mine?”
“At least 20.”
Yan Qingqiu said seriously, “I’ve pissed off so many people. Plenty want to come for me. We strike first to stay ahead. If it comes to a fight, we retreat easily. If it’s an argument, they’ve got one mouth, we’ve got 18.”
She beat the male lead. One blink, and brainless side characters would charge for him—crazy, obsessed, or crashing into walls for him.
She wasn’t dumb enough to be a target. Charging in for pride? Stupid. Who’d dare approach her now?
She wasn’t some brainless sidekick like Luo Xi.
Su Xingjie felt the logic was off but couldn’t argue. After pondering, she said, “Qiu-bao, you’ve gotten smarter since you stopped loving Fu Ye.”
Yan Qingqiu laughed, shrugging. “My dad’s got a yearly contract with the bodyguard agency. Barely used it, so why not use it for flair?”
“Pretty cool. You don’t care about others’ stares or feel embarrassed.”
The show started at 7 p.m. Su Xingjie led her around, and they entered as it began. Yan Qingqiu left the bodyguards outside, figuring no one but an idiot would start a fight here.
Su Xingjie’s model, the spicy dark-skinned Miao Miao from before, walked in a new-season trench coat, her catwalk sultry and elegant.
Yan Qingqiu observed, realizing she was out of her depth. She didn’t know basic runway walks, thinking modeling was just posing for covers. She was far from a fashion model, only Su Xingjie’s support would make her shine.
Su Xingjie patted her hand. “Don’t stress. I’ll get you a coach.”
Yan Qingqiu nodded, watching the show. Someone nearby recorded, and she checked her phone’s flash was off before snapping two photos.
The venue was spacious, the long runway flanked by seats. Not many attended, but Su Xingjie explained they were all big names, brand reps or ambassadors.
Su Xingjie, in a white shirt and pants, her chest accentuated by tight buttons, sat with crossed legs, cool and sharp. People greeted her, and she nodded minimally, saying little.
Midway, they spotted Luo Xi. Their groups sat on opposite sides of the runway. Luo Xi glared daggers.
Yan Qingqiu was puzzled. Why was Luo Xi so quiet today—no trouble, no curses?
Su Xingjie leaned in, whispering, “Qiu-bao, your sunglasses are too dark. Can’t see clearly.”
Yan Qingqiu laughed helplessly. Sunglasses in a dim venue? She removed them. “Xingxing, you’re kinda silly.”
Su Xingjie, nearsighted by 300 degrees, didn’t wear glasses casually but did for work. She pulled out silver chain glasses, watching the show with a serious expression.
Yan Qingqiu leaned back, wearing a tailored blazer Su Xingjie designed, with a rose-thorn embroidery on the left hem. Her black pants had gold trim, a touch of flamboyant elegance.
They chatted softly, laughing at fun moments. Amid the sexy models, they stood out.
Su Xingjie occasionally explained how models rose to fame and her plans to boost Yan Qingqiu.
Yan Qingqiu asked, “Why’s no one wearing my outfit? Isn’t this your company’s new design?”
Su Xingjie explained, “Yours is one-of-a-kind. I designed it myself, how could I let others wear it?”
Yan Qingqiu was touched. Su Xingjie was a treasure of a friend.
As the models walked, Yan Qingqiu eyed a cool, aloof-style trench coat. “How much is that one? Where’s the price tag?”
Su Xingjie said, “It’s not for sale, just for display. If you want it, I’ll contact the organizer. Which one?”
“That… colorblock trench coat.”
Su Xingjie glanced at it. “I’ll ask later.”
The show continued, and Yan Qingqiu didn’t want to talk too much. She squeezed Su Xingjie’s wrist in thanks.
Su Xingjie pursed her lips. She’d started this career loving crafts—knitting, crocheting, making bracelets to match outfits. Her drawer was full of handmade items, always sharing with Yan Qingqiu. Classmates teased she’d be a perfect wife, not a lover.
Yan Qingqiu had scoffed, wearing her bracelet. “Wife? Stop insulting her. Our Xingxing’s skills will make her a big boss designer.”
And she became ER’s director, top dog.
—
Leaving the show, they gained a lot. Yan Qingqiu mimicked the models’ walks, getting a feel for the industry.
It was dark out. They handed their purchases to the bodyguards and strolled the food street, planning to sneak off for hotpot—home food was too bland.
Just as they booked a spot and opened the map app, Yan Qingqiu’s phone pinged. Song Qingre messaged, saying no need to pick her up—she was meeting Fu Ye to pay his medical bills.
“So late…” Yan Qingqiu bit her lip, annoyed. Song Qingre, all slender and delicate, what if Fu Ye bullied her?
“What’s up?” Su Xingjie asked.
Noticing her staring at her phone, she added, “Something wrong?”
Yan Qingqiu shook her head. “Nothing.”
At the hotpot place, unable to hide it, she said, “Here’s the deal. I got Fu Ye beaten yesterday, and Song Qingre’s covering his medical bills.”
“She’s paying for you?” Su Xingjie found it odd. “Fu Ye demanded money? Shameless.”
“Not exactly. Song Qingre said it’s to stop him from using medical bills to harass me later.”
Yan Qingqiu got it, she’d been trapped by money disputes before.
She and Song Qingre were tangled in money too, debts piling up.
Owing one person was enough. No way Fu Ye got an opening.
Su Xingjie paused. It made some sense, but still felt off.
“Here’s an idea…” Su Xingjie said. “If you’re not hungry, I’ll go with you to the hospital. See what Song Qingre’s up to.”
“Spy on her?”
Yan Qingqiu cut to the chase, nearly choking Su Xingjie, who nodded. “You’re suspicious, right? Let’s check.”
She didn’t know much about Fu Ye and Song Qingre’s history, mostly guesses. When Yan Qingqiu asked before, Su Xingjie was surprised, saying, “Don’t you usually tell me?”
Their past feuds were always Yan Qingqiu talking, Su Xingjie listening.
Info from Su Xingjie wasn’t always reliable, she trusted “her” blindly, nodding even when doubtful if Yan Qingqiu diverted her.
Yan Qingqiu sighed. “Sis, what’ll you do? I’m worried.” She patted Su Xingjie’s shoulder. “When you date, I’m vetting them. No bastards allowed.”
Su Xingjie shook her head, coolly saying, “I’ve decided—no dating, ever.”
Yan Qingqiu said, “That’s a shame. You know so many gorgeous models, and they’re just colleagues? Sad. But live how you want, don’t follow the crowd. Everyone’s got their own vibe.”
“Mm-hmm.” Su Xingjie felt that familiar spark.
Yan Qingqiu knew exactly which ward Fu Ye was in—he texted daily, begging her to visit. She followed the address.
Su Xingjie drove. “You used to say Song Qingre framed you, slandered you, played the innocent lotus. She’d reject Fu Ye but stay close, stirring trouble whenever you got near him. Disgusting.”
From a villainess’s view, Song Qingre was the problem.
Luo Xi hated her the same way.
Not worth it for a guy juggling three women.
Coincidentally, as they parked at the hospital, Song Qingre’s car was nearby. Yan Qingqiu saw her enter the inpatient building.
They waited, then followed quietly, stopping at the door to eavesdrop.
On the 13th floor, Fu Ye lay in bed, neck wrapped in gauze. Seeing the visitor, his eyes lit up, but remembering his promise to Yan Qingqiu, he didn’t get up. Still, he complained, “Qiuqiu, really, this was too much.”
He waited for Song Qingre’s gentle comfort.
Song Qingre, carrying a black bag, sat down, opened it, and pulled out a thick envelope stuffed with cash, placing it on the bedside table.
Fu Ye frowned. “What’s this?”
“Medical bills,” Song Qingre said coldly.
Fu Ye couldn’t believe her icy tone. “Are you copying Qiuqiu to insult me?”
She pulled out another stack of cash. “Enough?”
Under his shocked gaze, she said slowly, “I hope you stop harassing Qiuqiu. Let go of what’s done. She clearly doesn’t like you anymore.” Her fingers interlaced, voice cold. “This covers your bills. Behave yourself. Next time you pester her, there won’t be money for the ICU.”
Her words hit Fu Ye like ice, devoid of warmth. Though not harsh, they crushed his heart.
He studied her. Song Qingre’s expression was frigid, barely showing emotion, like a moon before rain, obscured by clouds.
She could turn completely dark.
Her next words could’ve been, Haven’t you noticed? Qiuqiu loves me now.
Fu Ye shook off the thought.
Initially, he and Song Qingre were in the same year, but after his fights and troublemaking, his family held him back, making him Yan Qingqiu’s classmate.
He had known Song Qingre then. She was outstanding—top grades, talented in everything. She played piano in the cathedral, her slender fingers weaving beautiful melodies. She painted, winning awards.
She hosted school events, drawing silent crowds just to see the school flower’s grace.
Song Qingre was always gentle, patient with everyone, the dream girl of every boy in class.
At first, Fu Ye thought her kindness was fake, nobody could be that warm to everyone. He didn’t take her seriously.
Until that fight, when Song Qingre came to the police station to pick up Yan Qingqiu, nervously checking her over, holding her hand.
Though visibly upset, when Yan Qingqiu said she was hurt, Song Qingre swallowed her anger, asking gently if she was injured, touching her head.
That tender warmth enveloped like light.
That’s when Fu Ye learned Song Qingre and Yan Qingqiu were neighbors. Whenever he asked Song Qingre to deliver something, she did, never complaining.
He realized she wasn’t fake, her light just hadn’t shone on him. He envied Yan Qingqiu sometimes.
Later, learning Song Qingre liked him and had delivered his letters for so long, he felt guilty. Yet she never resented him.
When her warmth reached him, he understood its power—once you craved it, there was no cure, like a light-starved soul chasing a single ray.
The more Yan Qingqiu chased him, the more he couldn’t forget Song Qingre’s gentleness.
He couldn’t forget her, hiding her pain, saying softly, “It’s fine. You can ask me to deliver again, easy favor.”
Whether in school or underage years, winning Song Qingre boosted his pride immensely.
His pursuit of her, always, was because he never truly had her. He could tell Yan Qingqiu he’d let
Song Qingre went, but when she appeared, his moonlight, his first love—he couldn’t forget her.
Before she came, he’d prepared to say they’d never meet again. Her preemptive coldness threw his heart into chaos.
“You misunderstood?” Fu Ye panicked, cutting her off.
Her visit touched him. Song Qingre was so much better than Yan Qingqiu. When he called Yan Qingqiu, she cursed him out in two sentences, nearly deafening him. “Did Qiuqiu make you come?”
Song Qingre looked at him helplessly, her eyes saying, Are you crazy? Stop spouting nonsense.
Her patience gone, she stood. “I’m here for Qiuqiu’s sake, nothing else. I told you clearly when
I went abroad, no contact. That still stands.”
“Qingre,” Fu Ye called, interrupting.
Her voice hardened. “Given my disappointment in you, from today, call me Song Qingre—or, politely,
Miss Song.”
Fu Ye choked, disbelieving her coldness.
Song Qingre grabbed her bag, turning to leave without hesitation. Fu Ye tried to follow, stepping off the bed, but winced in pain, looking pathetic.
“Someone…” His face paled.
Song Qingre frowned. “Mr. Fu, have some self-respect. Even if you call your bodyguards to stop me, I’m leaving. Love should be steadfast, don’t bounce between two people.”
“And I’m an alpha.”
Her tone was icy, implying, Keep pestering, and I won’t be polite.
Fu Ye watched her back, raising his voice.
“Qingre!”
She didn’t respond, her hand on the doorknob.
He blurted, “Do you like Qiuqiu now? You weren’t like this before!”
The sudden shout startled Song Qingre, pausing her steps, and made Yan Qingqiu’s heart leap outside, nearly choking her.
Song Qingre’s fingers brushed the knob like a dragonfly skimming water.
“Your attitude’s weird now. Why are you so good to her? I could tell before… you’ve changed,” Fu Ye said. “You used to take Qiuqiu’s hits and curses for me. Was all that humility fake?”
He remembered clearly, Yan Qingqiu insulted and hit her, and she endured.
Once, unable to stand it, he asked Song Qingre,
“Does it hurt?”
She smiled, shaking her head. “Not painful. I can handle it.”
Song Qingre’s fingers tightened, her gaze dropping, hair covering half her face. “Not anymore,” she said firmly.
Her fingertip pressed the metal knob, her grip strong. If pushed further, she wouldn’t hold back.
The eavesdroppers couldn’t see her face, but Fu Ye felt she could crush him. He swallowed, unwilling to accept it.
“Let’s go,” Su Xingjie whispered to Yan Qingqiu.
If Song Qingre opened the door, she’d see them.
Su Xingjie tugged Yan Qingqiu gently, signaling to leave. But Yan Qingqiu’s legs felt rooted, she was curious how Song Qingre would answer.
Either response would be thrilling.
“She’ll definitely say she doesn’t like you,” Su Xingjie whispered.
Yan Qingqiu pressed a finger to her lips, wanting to hear more.
Why was Su Xingjie so sure?
Song Qingre’s voice came, steady. “It’s never changed.”
Yan Qingqiu didn’t get it. Stunned, Su Xingjie pulled her back.
She tried to speak, but Su Xingjie covered her mouth.
Once Song Qingre left, Su Xingjie let go. Yan Qingqiu, still pondering the words, stayed silent.
Her heels clicked lightly. Suddenly, Song Qingre seemed to walk toward them.
Yan Qingqiu yanked Su Xingjie to the stairwell, their backs pressed against the wall to avoid detection.
They barely spoke, holding their breath. Su Xingjie’s perfume wafted over, and Yan Qingqiu wanted to cover her neck.
But that’s an omega’s sensitive spot, even besties shouldn’t touch, right?
When the footsteps faded, they exhaled.
Their big eyes blinked. Su Xingjie covered her neck, gasping, “Sorry, Qiu-bao, you okay?”
“What could be wrong?” Yan Qingqiu’s face was just hot, Su Xingjie’s tuberose scent was like an indiscriminate attack.
“Song Qingre’s got pretty solid values,” Yan Qingqiu said, changing the topic. Compared to her, Song Qingre was upright, she just wanted to fight Fu Ye.
Fu Ye didn’t even dare yell back at her.
When Song Qingre entered the elevator, they took the stairs. She drove off first. Yan Qingqiu got in her car, fidgeting with her fingers.
Buckling her seatbelt, she said, “I don’t know why, but I feel so ashamed. Really ashamed.”
Su Xingjie, after a pause, said, “Me too.”
They had trashed Song Qingre plenty, always judging her actions.
But Su Xingjie’s shame wasn’t the same as Yan Qingqiu’s.
“Maybe we really misunderstood her before,” Yan Qingqiu mused. “Heaven or earth, it’s all that scumbag Fu Ye’s fault!”
Su Xingjie nodded, driving and adjusting her glasses.
Yan Qingqiu’s heart felt heavy. Looking at the neon lights outside, she sighed softly, “I hit her before…”
The car’s atmosphere was stifling. Su Xingjie played upbeat music.
Yan Qingqiu pondered what “never changed” meant.
Some words, unsaid, were clear to those who understood.
A few simple words could pierce the heart.
Some stepped out of their comfort zone; others stayed in it.
The car drove on, hitting a red light. Su Xingjie gripped the wheel, biting her lip until it hurt. “You used to say… we’re all women. If someone likes you, it’s disgusting, and you’d kick them away without mercy.”
It wasn’t the first time Yan Qingqiu heard this, but it still stung. She bit down hard.
The red light turned off, and Su Xingjie’s fingers, gripping the steering wheel, trembled slightly. Her driving slowed for a moment.
She gave a small laugh and said, “Hey, Qiu-bao, do you still think that way now?”