Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 34
34:
Yan Qingqiu wasn’t in a hurry to go home. She and her bestie went for hotpot, having bought the voucher, it’d be a waste not to use it. Su Xingjie turned the car and drove straight there.
At the table, Yan Qingqiu ordered all the delicious dishes.
But as they were about to eat, Su Xingjie got a message. Checking her phone, she saw it was from Song Qingre. She almost thought it was sent to the wrong person. Yan Qingqiu leaned over, it was a list of foods to avoid for allergic rhinitis.
“Oh, right, you can’t eat spicy stuff,” Su Xingjie said.
She quickly asked the waiter to swap the boiling spicy broth for a new one. Yan Qingqiu was on the verge of tears, she thought hanging with her bestie meant sneaking a spicy bite. “Xingxing, you’re too harsh.”
“It’s for your own good. Do you want to keep sneezing?” Su Xingjie said sympathetically. “How about a tomato broth? It’s red too, at least it won’t feel so bad to look at.”
“…”
Only you’d think of that.
Yan Qingqiu praised earnestly, “Sister, you’re a genius.”
Su Xingjie chuckled, expecting a tantrum. “You’re that desperate to eat? You’re like a starving wolf lately. Hold off, once your rhinitis clears, you can eat.”
“Fine, as long as it’s not bland porridge or baby food-like stuff… I can deal,” Yan Qingqiu said, not making a fuss. Good food was enough, whatever the broth. “I feel like a newborn baby, eating mush every day. It’s awful. When I eat, I feel bad for babies, how do they stand it? I can’t handle it for a day or two.”
Su Xingjie frowned. “That’s not right. Didn’t Uncle hire a chef who won awards? How did the food get so bad? Like they’re targeting you.”
“Send me pics next time. How’s it that terrible? Fire them if it’s that bad. You’ve lost weight lately.”
“Lost weight?” Yan Qingqiu thought she’d gained some. She glanced at her waist, pinching it—seemed slimmer, maybe from growing taller.
She blanched some baby bok choy, sweet in her mouth, and shared some with Su Xingjie. “I barely eat fish lately.”
“No seafood either?”
Yan Qingqiu nodded. “Can we get some squid to try? I’m craving it. Shrimp’s fine too.”
Last time her dad treated them, she’d had some seafood, but it’d been days since.
Su Xingjie couldn’t resist her pleading. “Hold on, let me check the list. You can’t eat recklessly.”
She scanned it carefully. “You can have some shrimp, but no spicy stuff. Squid’s a no-go. Stick to protein for now.”
“Waiter, one plate of shrimp.”
Su Xingjie studied the list again, puzzled. Why did it feel like her own differentiation diet? So strange.
As they ate, seeing Su Xingjie’s confusion, Yan Qingqiu piled food on her plate, urging her to eat.
They didn’t finish everything. Yan Qingqiu considered packing leftovers but, with things to do, found it inconvenient and reluctantly paid the bill.
Su Xingjie drove to take her home. Yan Qingqiu, buckling her seatbelt, rubbed her stomach. “Xingxing, let’s go have a drive.”
Su Xingjie lowered the car’s roof.
The night breeze brushed her cheeks. Yan Qingqiu leaned on the car, facing the wind. “Xingxing, feelings aren’t about what others say, your own matter most.”
“…Hm?” Su Xingjie didn’t follow.
“You can’t suppress your feelings because of something I said. If I say I don’t like women, so no one around me can, and demand you swear off love, I’m not fit to be your friend.” Yan Qingqiu spoke deliberately. “I would be unworthy.”
At the riverbank, they stopped, leaning on the railing. Su Xingjie watched her quietly.
The wind tousled Yan Qingqiu’s hair. Her eyes, like stars at dusk, reflected Su Xingjie’s own image. Those eyes always gave her direction, no matter how tough the path.
I really rely on Qiu-bao.
“If I ever hurt you or those around us, Xingxing, don’t treat me as a friend. It’s not me abandoning you, I’d be unworthy. Kick me away and stay far.”
Because this body might not be hers anymore.
Yan Qingqiu didn’t want her friend tormented. She didn’t say it, but she knew it clearly.
A transmigrator could take this body.
Where was the original Miss Yan? Did she have a soul, or was she just data?
Was she an empty shell for transmigrators to play out plots, a role for anyone to act?
Playing the game, she hadn’t thought much—everyone was data, their words, plots, and feelings calculated.
Propping her chin, she thought of her old world, no friends, college classmates drifting apart after graduation. Occasional messages went unanswered, blocked. Real-world friends like Su Xingjie were rare, she wanted to cherish this.
“For a while… everyone lived so cautiously,” Su Xingjie said, words she’d never dared voice, fearing losing this friend.
The old Yan Qingqiu was reckless, not gentle. If anyone crossed her, she’d lash out.
Su Xingjie continued, “Especially when you fell for Fu Ye. No one could sway you. You would ditch everything for love. Anyone stopping you was an enemy. One month, you sent Uncle to the hospital three or four times. Quite a handful…”
Her tone was wistful, probing, glancing at Yan Qingqiu, who looked regretful, like a lost soul finding her way. Su Xingjie stopped, afraid of hurting her.
She smiled. “I was fine. Uncle and Song Qingre had it worse.”
The wind whipped across the dark, endless river, occasionally broken by a ship’s whistle.
Their hair grew frizzy in the breeze.
Yan Qingqiu said, “Remember this place.”
“Hm?”
“Next time, we’ll have some barbecue here. It feels nice.”
She shouted at the river, “Barbecue!”
Urging Su Xingjie, “You shout too.”
Su Xingjie didn’t hesitate, yelling, “Ah!” Feeling lighter, she shouted again, “Aaaah!”
Someone across the river echoed back.
Yan Qingqiu leaned on the railing, turning to the skyscrapers. Su Xingjie, laughing, said, “Qiu-bao, I love hanging with you. So fun. I miss our school days.”
Yan Qingqiu tucked hair behind her ear; Su Xingjie did the same.
They talked by the river for ages, faces dry from the wind. Yan Qingqiu pinched Su Xingjie’s cheek. “When my dad’s new product launches, I’ll get you some.”
“Thanks, Qiu-bao. Back in school, you covered my skincare. We’d hide behind books, doing our faces in front of mirrors, smelling nice. When teachers caught us, you’d bribe them with products, haha.”
“Did it work?”
Su Xingjie, ignoring why she didn’t remember, said, “The teacher got mad but took the gifts. Then you called Song Qingre as our ‘parent.’ We laughed behind her, but got a week of standing punishment.”
Yan Qingqiu nodded, finding it funny.
They stayed out late. Back home, the living room lights were mostly off. Yan Qingqiu entered the code herself, not waking the butler.
Tiptoeing inside, she saw someone at the bar counter under a light. Song Qingre sat there, chin in hand, quietly waiting for her.
Yan Qingqiu entered unnoticed. Song Qingre scrolled her mouse, focused on the computer. Yan Qingqiu crept up, planning to startle her.
Hearing her, Song Qingre looked up. “Back?”
“Mm.” Yan Qingqiu saw the screen. “Looking for a cleaning company?”
“The maids aren’t fast. That place hasn’t been lived in for years, and it’s huge. At this rate, it’ll take until winter to finish.”
“Oh… what’s the rush?” Yan Qingqiu muttered, annoyed at the screen, tempted to shut it off. She reached out but stopped herself, leaning on the table. Song Qingre closed the page, looking at her. “Why are your eyes red again?”
“Red?”
Yan Qingqiu blinked, smiling. “Maybe from the wind. Not crying, yelling in the convertible. We were like ghosts.”
“Oh.” Song Qingre replied to the butler’s message, saying she was home, then shut the computer. “Go sleep. It’s late.”
Song Qingre returned to her room. Yan Qingqiu showered, grabbed some things, and went to Song Qingre’s door. Checking no one was around, she raised her hand to knock.
Just then, at the corridor’s end, Yan Fu came down from the third floor to discuss money. After a month, the company crisis was resolved, and Yan Qingqiu’s one billion could be repaid. It was her borrowed money, after all—best to return it soon.
As Yan Fu descended to the second floor, his gray slippers stepped forward. He heard his daughter knock and whisper, “Hello, your little slave is here to help you bathe.”
“Today’s an upgraded service. Take off your clothes before I open the door, or I’ll do it… for an extra fee!”
Yan Fu: “…”
Caught in a dilemma, he hesitated. Yan Qingqiu seemed to sense someone, and he instinctively stepped back, bumping into the butler checking the courtyard security.
Their eyes met. Yan Fu signaled him to stay still.
The butler’s eyes widened, the air heavy.
Song Qingre opened the door, surprised. “Qiuqiu?”
“Come on, yes or no?” Yan Qingqiu walked in. The room’s light was on, the computer screen glowing with some page she couldn’t read.
“Working again?”
“Mm.”
“That busy?”
Yan Qingqiu slipped into the bedroom, sitting on the bed’s edge, toes tapping. She held an essential oil bottle on her lap. “This is my dad’s new oil. Super hot, fresh.”
“Then…” Song Qingre glanced at her screen. “Give me half an hour to reply to the museum’s invitation. Okay?”
“Museum invite?” Yan Qingqiu was stunned. That’s impressive. She wanted to see but couldn’t move with the bottle.
“The museum has centuries-old oil paintings. Their pigments were handmade, machines can’t restore them, and many experts don’t know the artists’ techniques. Painting and appraisal are different. Restoring needs people like us.”
Yan Qingqiu nodded. “So cool. No wonder you stay up so late.”
“It’s an honor. They’re my favorite artist’s works, my artistic inspiration.” Song Qingre handled emails while Yan Qingqiu watched quietly, feeling like moonlight touched an unreachable place, ethereal and distant.
She fiddled with the oil bottle, accidentally knocking one over. She caught it, not wanting to disturb Song Qingre. Reflecting on her earlier words, she cringed. So vulgar.
Feeling awkward, she clutched the bottle and whispered to the system: [Wow, I think I’ve completely ruined the male and female leads’ chances.]
The system paused. [Yeah, no chance now. What plotline survives this mess?]
Its tone was heavy. Yan Qingqiu felt a petty thrill. Got you now, after all those zaps.
The system said: [But what if it’s a scheme? What if Song Qingre let you hear that talk to make you feel guilty? Isn’t she a bit scary?]
[Scary?]
Yan Qingqiu couldn’t see it. Glancing at Song Qingre typing swiftly, she thought, I’m wary of her, but she’s not that cunning to predict I would eavesdrop so precisely. She asked: [Got proof?]
System: [None.]
Yan Qingqiu: [Then it’s unlikely. Xingxing suggested eavesdropping, not me. But you’ve got a point.]
System: [So, what’s your take?]
Yan Qingqiu: [Unless she planned to reject the scumbag all along, saying those words regardless of me hearing.]
System: [Exactly. Your brain’s finally working.]
Yan Qingqiu mused: [So, Song Qingre’s really done with the scumbag. “She” misunderstood her. It’s all his fault, pitting these women against each other. I won’t fall for his tricks.]
The system went silent.
Yan Qingqiu felt it grinding its teeth. Before she could prod, Song Qingre interrupted.
“What’re you thinking?” Song Qingre stood before her, blocking the light.
“You’re done?”
Yan Qingqiu looked up. “Did I disturb you?”
“With a vixen like you here, why bother being an artist?” Song Qingre teased lightly. Yan Qingqiu’s heart skipped, just after thinking herself so crude.
“No way, I’m not!” she mumbled.
Song Qingre asked, “Want to give me a massage?” She headed to the bathroom. Yan Qingqiu said, “You don’t have to wear clothes later. I’ll do it… today.”
She felt guilty otherwise.
Song Qingre went to the bathroom but came out fully dressed, fingers dripping water, droplets falling. Sitting on the bed, she said, “I’ll do you, like before…”
“Stop pretending. I see through you,” Yan Qingqiu said. “Think I don’t know your little tricks?”
Song Qingre’s fingers paused, teeth grazing her lip. She looked at Yan Qingqiu calmly. “Oh? What does Qiuqiu know?”
Their eyes locked, each reflecting the other, pupils bright like tiny glowing orbs.
“You didn’t open the door yesterday on purpose, planning for me to make the first move, right?”
“Oh, maybe.” Song Qingre’s grip on her wrist loosened, and she smiled. “Yep, you saw through me.”
“Take it off.” Yan Qingqiu looked at the floor’s blurry shadows, cheeks burning. “I’m too forward, ugh.”
No movement. Puzzled, she said, “Why are you stalling?”
“I’m shy. You saw through me. Thinking how to trick you next time,” Song Qingre said bluntly, softening Yan Qingqiu’s ears.
“Hmph.” Yan Qingqiu lowered her head, urging, “Hurry!”
“No need. Making you massage me now feels too mean. Let me do you,” Song Qingre said gently. “You were uncomfortable yesterday, right?”
Yan Qingqiu opened her mouth to say no.
She pursed her lips. “…You want to massage me? Got a fetish for it or something?”
Song Qingre nodded. Yan Qingqiu bit her lip, turned, and lay on the bed. Kicking off her shoes, she pulled her nightgown up to her chest, lying obediently. Song Qingre grabbed the oil, as on previous nights, gently massaging her.
Yan Qingqiu’s forehead pressed into the pillow. “You don’t want to undress? Are you shy? You’ve never been bare.”
Song Qingre wore her work white shirt and black tailored pants, kneeling on the bed to massage without responding. Yan Qingqiu had never seen her body.
In the game… she was veiled in gauze, killed before seeing more.
“Qiuqiu, so chatty. Getting all wet again?”
Yan Qingqiu gripped the sheets, silent, enjoying the service. Song Qingre’s fingers tightened and loosened, like playing with a faucet, teasing until it might slip and gush uncontrollably.
“Mm, I’m a faucet,” Yan Qingqiu said.
Song Qingre chuckled, hands kneading her shoulders downward. Yan Qingqiu groaned, the sore, aching pleasure overwhelming.
“A-ask you something…” she stammered.
“Mm.”
“Do you dislike Xingxing?” Yan Qingqiu asked simply, wanting to ease tensions around her.
Song Qingre didn’t answer right away. Yan Qingqiu glanced back. Song Qingre poured glowing oil from a brown bottle, some spilling over her hand.
“She’s your friend. I don’t dislike her,” Song Qingre said, leaning close, their bodies an inch apart. Her palm rested on Yan Qingqiu’s chest, rubbing gently. Yan Qingqiu propped herself up, breathing heavily, chest rising. Though nothing intense happened, she felt like she’d snap.
Their noses nearly touched. “If I disliked her, Qiuqiu, your waist would’ve broken today.”
Yan Qingqiu thought: It’s breaking now.
—
At breakfast, Yan Qingqiu came downstairs. Yan Fu, sipping tea, looked surprised, holding his cup still.
“Dad, what’s up?” Yan Qingqiu sat beside him, puzzled.
“Nothing. Just eating and wanting to talk.”
He glanced up, recalling he’d woken early to see which room she came from. Last night, he waited ages, nearly falling asleep on the stairs, but saw nothing.
Sipping tea, he asked, “Qiuqiu, how’d you sleep?”
“Alright.”
“Where’s Xiao Re? Still asleep?”
“Maybe tired,” Yan Qingqiu said casually.
“Cough, cough!” Yan Fu choked on his tea, setting it down. “Tired? She didn’t seem that tired…”
Isn’t the little slave the one suffering?
“No idea. She’s been staying up late,” Yan Qingqiu said, exaggerating about the move. “She’s been pulling all-nighters. Looks exhausting. An artist working harder than a laborer.”
“What about you?”
“I’m fine, pretty free. I don’t do the heavy lifting. Just feels bad seeing her work so hard.”
Yan Fu’s feelings were mixed. He thought his daughter had Song Qingre under her thumb, not lying passively. He hinted, “Can’t let her work that hard.”
“Yeah, I told her, but she doesn’t listen. Dad, you tell her—she might listen to you,” Yan Qingqiu hinted back. “As her uncle, you’d have more sway, right?”
Yan Fu choked. “It’s not my place to say, is it?”
“Why not? Dad…” Yan Qingqiu gave him a suspicious look, goading, What, you can’t handle it?
Yan Fu faltered, feeling he’d failed her. Her mother died young, and Yan Qingqiu grew up with the Song family. He’d been a poor father, leaving her education to schools, not teaching her how to love.
“You sure you want me to say it?” he asked.
Yan Qingqiu nodded, eyes closed, then backtracked, fearing misunderstanding. “If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I… don’t care much.”
Her face said otherwise.
Song Qingre appeared, neat as always, hair up, slender neck with a black suppression ring.
Yan Qingqiu winked at Yan Fu. Dad, say it.
“Let’s talk later. Too many people now.”
Saying it publicly felt awkward.
Yan Fu needed some dignity too.
Yan Qingqiu sighed, “Fine.”
No rush. “Talk to her later. If she doesn’t agree, reason with her, but don’t say it was me, she’s so proud.”
“Mm.”
At the table, the food was still bland, though the porridge was fresh.
“Qiuqiu, here’s a check for one billion. Pay it back,” Yan Fu said, calling the butler to hand it over from his briefcase.
Yan Qingqiu took it. “Can you manage without it?”
Song Qingre glanced over, her gaze darkening briefly. “Yeah, Uncle, keep it. What if the Fu family comes back?”
Yan Fu thought, if he hadn’t seen his daughter as a “slave” last night, he’d agree.
But no, his daughter slaving away wasn’t right.
“It’s fine. Fu Ye won’t dare. Our funds are solid, and the new product’s out.”
Song Qingre held her cup, nodding without drinking. “Good.” Underestimated Uncle’s love for his daughter?
She sipped yogurt, her smile faint.
Yan Fu ate, noting Yan Qingqiu didn’t give Song Qingre the money, urging, “Qiuqiu, make sure you pay it back.”
“Got it.” Yan Qingqiu held the check, her second time handling such a sum, still unaccustomed, fingers trembling.
With Yan Fu watching, she felt shy, pretending to be rich and stuffing the check in her pocket.
Yan Fu added, “Qiuqiu, got enough spending money? I’ll give you another million.”
“I’m good.” Yan Qingqiu didn’t want to overspend. She hadn’t used this month’s million. What if she got used to extravagance and struggled back in reality?
After eating, they sat quietly.
Yan Qingqiu blinked at Yan Fu to speak. Finally, Song Qingre stood, grabbing her tablet to leave for work.
Yan Qingqiu shot Yan Fu a look. As Song Qingre reached the door, Yan Qingqiu followed. Song Qingre, thinking she needed help, said, “Uncle, it’s 8:30. Not going to the company?”
Yan Fu got up, reluctantly approaching. Standing by Song Qingre, she looked puzzled at the father-daughter duo. “Uncle, need my help with anything? Just say.”
Yan Qingqiu frantically signaled Yan Fu, tempted to grab Song Qingre until he spoke, then let her go.
Yan Fu knew he couldn’t dodge. Waving the maids away, he said seriously, “Xiao Re, this isn’t my place to say, but your mom’s gone, and Qiuqiu’s mom too.”
Yan Qingqiu nodded. “Yeah, Dad’s right. Listen to him. Your house is empty.”
That place was so eerie, she felt spooked but held back, not wanting to be rude.
Song Qingre didn’t overthink, sensing Yan Qingqiu was stopping her from moving. “Uncle, go on.”
Yan Fu lowered his voice. “This should be her mom’s job, but… don’t be so alpha. Consider Qiuqiu’s feelings.”
“Hm?”
Song Qingre didn’t get it.
“You can’t be so individualistic. Dad’s shy to say it directly,” Yan Qingqiu added. “Just listen to him. Ignore the elders, and you’ll regret it.”
Yan Fu nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Yeah, sometimes let her take charge. Always looking up at you from below, how cold is that? Respect her pride.”
Yan Qingqiu froze. Wait, this isn’t what I meant. Dad, what’s with the misunderstanding?
“And one more thing for you two: only oxen die from overwork, not the field. Young people, take care of yourselves.”
Yan Qingqiu was dumbfounded: ??? Dad, what are you saying?
Yan Fu, red-faced, said, “Xiao Re, get it?”
Song Qingre’s usually calm face cracked. She bit her lip, looking at Yan Qingqiu. “Did you… ask Uncle to say this? Ugh…”
She laughed.
“No, no, it’s a misunderstanding! Dad, you got it wrong!”
“It’s not about overexploiting… huh? What?” Yan
Fu saw Yan Qingqiu stammer, realizing his mistake. Backpedaling, “This was my idea, advice for you two. Qiuqiu didn’t know.”
“…”
Dad, I’m dead.
Yan Qingqiu couldn’t fathom why he thought this.
Did he see last night? No, she checked—no one was there!
God, this is fatal.
If he knew, it’d be worse.
My dad thinks I’m a slave, like I’m kneeling, whipped with a lash… No, I’m proper! It’s just a playful term. Can you understand modern flirting, Dad?
She wanted to cry, her mouth opening weakly.
Song Qingre patted her shoulder. “Uncle, don’t worry. I’ll think it over.”
“Good to understand.” Yan Fu glanced at Yan Qingqiu’s shocked eyes, feeling he’d exposed her.
“I’m off to work. You two… carry on.”
He sighed as he left.
The butler grabbed his bag. “Sir, what’s worrying you? The money’s repaid.”
“Sigh, I’m worried she’s slaving away nightly. Can her body handle it? They look sleepless.” Yan Fu trailed off.
The butler said, “Maybe we’re behind the times. Young people play like this now.”
Yan Fu shook his head. “No, a lot of weirdos play like this. Hope they get my point.”
Yan Qingqiu: “…”
Why does the butler know too?
Years from now, there’ll be wild tales about me.
Thinking the awkwardness would fade once they left, the car’s engine roared, dust rising.
The atmosphere grew even more awkward.
Yan Qingqiu took a deep breath, pursing her lips, too embarrassed to speak clearly. Song Qingre sighed, “Really, telling your dad about this? I’m embarrassed.”
“I…” Yan Qingqiu bolted, running from the courtyard, aimlessly wandering until exhausted. This life’s unlivable. How do I face people? Sitting on a garden bench, she panted.
“Ugh…”
High society’s too hard.
[Hahaha!]
Yan Qingqiu snapped: [You gotta laugh that loud? Is it that funny?]
System: [You misunderstood it. We’re trained professionals, we don’t laugh unless we can’t help it.]
Yan Qingqiu wanted to scream. Fatal. Insane. She hadn’t calculated this kind of social death.
System: [By the way, want to redeem your 365 wives? It’s expiring.]
[Let me breathe after this social death!]
Rubbing her face, a car stopped beside her, horn
beeping. Song Qingre, smiling, said, “Get in. I’ll drive you to work. Late on your first day?”
Yan Qingqiu covered her face. “Sorry, I’ve got no face left.”
Song Qingre laughed, steadying herself to console her. “It’s fine. If you’re not embarrassed, others are.”
“I don’t wanna live.”
“No biggie. You’re still a fierce alpha. I’ll clear it with your dad,” Song Qingre coaxed.
Autumn leaves fluttered down. Song Qingre fought laughter, especially at Yan Qingqiu’s half-dead look, covering her face, casting a small shadow.
“Come on, I’ll really explain to your dad.”
“My dad…” Yan Qingqiu looked up, fingers parting to reveal her eyes. Song Qingre nodded. “Yep, I’ll talk to Uncle.”
Yan Qingqiu wanted to cry.
Her eyes glistened, light shimmering like colorful bubbles.
Song Qingre got out, opening the door. “Qiuqiu, front or back? Back lets you hide behind my seat, no one sees your face, so embarrass away.”
Yan Qingqiu felt better. Planning to sit in the back, she had more to say and switched to the front.
Song Qingre drove her.
The autumn morning was chilly. Yan Qingqiu, forgetting a jacket, shivered. Song Qingre handed her one.
“Thanks.” Yan Qingqiu draped it over her head, sitting still in the passenger seat.
Song Qingre glanced, not starting the car. Tapping the wheel, she said, “Put it on properly. What if the traffic police stop us?”
It made sense.
Yan Qingqiu closed her eyes, slowly pulling the jacket down. “Thanks.”
Her face burned as it emerged.
Looking out, she remembered the check. Shifting, she pulled the crumpled check from her pocket, smoothing it. “Drop me off when we get there.”
“Okay.”
Morning traffic crawled.
Yan Qingqiu lowered the window, letting the breeze cool her cheeks.
At the destination, she didn’t rush out, handing
Song Qingre the smoothed check. “I don’t owe
you anymore. I’m a free woman now.”
A billion felt like paper now.
Song Qingre held it, humming.
Yan Qingqiu pulled out her notebook, ready to tear it.
“Why tear it? Don’t I still owe you?” Song Qingre asked.
“But it’s cleared, right?” Yan Qingqiu felt her million was nothing compared to a billion, interest alone could cancel it.
Checking her ledger, she nearly blacked out.
She’d never dared borrow a hundred bucks before, yet here she borrowed a billion.
Not much land tilled, but plenty of courage.
“No need to stress,” Song Qingre said. “You signed with Uncle’s company. They’ll settle up soon.
Yan Qingqiu suddenly felt life had purpose.
She grabbed a calculator, starting to tally—
As she calculated, something felt off.
Huh?
How had Song Qingre already repaid her 1.2 million? Adding up various miscellaneous expenses, it was nearly 1.5 million… So, Song Qingre had cleared her debt long ago.
And now, Yan Qingqiu owes her 500,000 yuan.
Yan Qingqiu glanced at Song Qingre, who glanced back. Thinking Song Qingre hadn’t noticed, Yan Qingqiu leaned back, shifted twice, exited the calculator, and quickly switched to her messaging app.
She scrolled through bank notifications, double-checking. It was true—1.2 million, no, even more. How do I owe a million?
What did I do? I kept track!
“Song Qingre, I think…” Yan Qingqiu swallowed hard.
“Go ahead,” Song Qingre said, waiting.
Yan Qingqiu dimmed her phone screen. “Your studio’s finance team should be replaced.”
“Did they short you?” Song Qingre asked, pulling out her phone. “No rush. I’ll have them send more.”
“No… it’s just, they might not know how to count! They sent too much,” Yan Qingqiu said softly, her last words barely audible.
“Really?” Song Qingre frowned. “Let me see.”
Yan Qingqiu handed over her phone. Song Qingre, after looking, said angrily, “Seriously? I pay them top industry salaries, and they’re supposed to be top graduates.”
“Don’t be too mad. At least we caught it,” Yan Qingqiu said. “I hear accountants get better with age. Maybe yours are too young. It happens.”
Song Qingre called Sheng Huajian directly. He answered quickly. “What’s up, boss?”
“Tell finance they’re fired. They messed up Miss Yan’s account, overpaying by 500,000 yuan—no, a million. Check the other accounts for errors.”
“Uh… but finance didn’t…”
Before Sheng Huajian could finish, Song Qingre hung up. But, boss, didn’t you personally transfer the money to Miss Yan?
Song Qingre set her phone on her lap, exhaling as if furious. Yan Qingqiu clutched her notebook, unsure how to comfort her, especially since she’d confessed.
“It’s fine. Just return the million…”
That was the problem, she’d spent it. These past few days, out with her bestie, she’d splurged on luxury goods. Good thing she had some restraint, or she’d have maxed out her credit card too.
I’m such a failure.
Couldn’t resist the lure of money.
Yan Qingqiu swallowed hard, whispering, “I thought I had tons of money. I spent a lot on luxury stuff these past few days. It’s all gone now.”
“…Oh.”
Song Qingre’s frown didn’t ease. “Blame finance, not you.”
“Right.” Yan Qingqiu nodded guiltily.
Song Qingre drove another loop, circling ER. Yan Qingqiu said, “I’ll pay back that million when I get my salary.”
“No rush. You don’t have to.”
“No way! It’s a million!”
As the car moved, Yan Qingqiu’s mind was consumed by that million. How did Song Qingre’s repayments end with her owing a million? Life was unlivable.
Then it hit her. “Wait, no. You had a billion. How come you couldn’t even spare a million back then?”
“Hm?”
Song Qingre’s fingers subtly grazed the steering wheel. Yan Qingqiu’s gaze shifted from the window to her, staring suspiciously. “Your secretary said you were short on funds. You repaid me bit by bit. But you handed me a billion outright.” She narrowed her eyes, brow furrowed.
“Where’s your money?”