Flirting Recklessly With the White Moonlight Will Get You Marked - Chapter 35
35:
The more Yan Qingqiu thought about it, the more something felt off. Song Qingre could come up with a billion, but not a million?
There was only one reason, she’d been pretending. But why?
Yan Qingqiu couldn’t believe she’d been deceived for so long. She stared at Song Qingre, taking in every move, every detail.
Song Qingre kept driving, but slowed considerably, as if deliberately dragging out time. “You’re the one who insisted on ‘sponsoring’ me,” she said.
Yan Qingqiu didn’t recall the past clearly. With the car moving so slowly, time stretched, and she couldn’t help but think of her foolish self. Right, I’m the one who barged in, demanding to sponsor her, even forcing a kiss.
Spotting a parking space ahead, Yan Qingqiu pointed urgently. “Stop driving. Answer me first. I feel like you’re lying.”
And after all her social humiliation, Song Qingre seemed to enjoy it, always smiling. Now, that smile was gone, she was definitely hiding something.
The usually quiet system piped up, annoyingly. [Wow, is your head itching? I just felt your brain grow.]
Being mocked by the system was the ultimate embarrassment. Yan Qingqiu couldn’t stand it.
“Did you trick me into being your little slave?” she demanded.
Song Qingre didn’t hesitate. “How could I? I’m not dumb enough to owe you a million and become your mistress.”
“But then I owed you a billion, and I became your slave,” Yan Qingqiu shot back. “Your goal was to make me owe you.”
Song Qingre turned the wheel, her tone calm. “Hold on, let me park. It’s a long story.”
Yan Qingqiu grew more suspicious, feeling a sudden spark of clarity. Song Qingre hadn’t expected her to catch on so fast, unprepared. She waited for Song Qingre’s explanation, if it wasn’t convincing, that million she owed was deliberate too.
Her fingers tapped the armrest impatiently.
Song Qingre parked slowly, almost unbearably so, under Yan Qingqiu’s stare. “Being a little slave was your idea,” she said. “I didn’t whip you and say, ‘Yan Qingqiu, strip, I’ll make you unable to stand.’”
“…”
Yan Qingqiu snapped, “Can you stop driving in circles? I’m serious. We’re settling accounts.”
Finally parked, Yan Qingqiu’s patience ran out. She warned, “Spill it. I knew you weren’t honest. You look all gentle, but you’re full of schemes.”
Song Qingre let her ramble, waiting until Yan Qingqiu had vented. “You, I give you a chance to flirt, you don’t. But you sneakily flirt on your own.”
“Fine, I’ll be straight,” Song Qingre said, her tone turning serious.
Yan Qingqiu watched warily, wondering what she’d say. A million wasn’t pocket change, she didn’t want to owe anyone.
Song Qingre’s eyes half-closed, leaning back. “That money was left by my parents. You know about trust funds, right? They meant it for my wedding.”
“For your wedding? That’s post-marital property. Your parents weren’t that naive, were they?” Yan Qingqiu knew about trusts, rich people set them up for their kids, expecting short lives or accidents.
But a post-marriage fund? That’s just handing money to her future spouse.
What if they’re a scumbag? Didn’t her parents consider that?
Song Qingre looked at her, eyes darkening. “It’s for the wedding itself. Weddings cost money. They wanted me to have a romantic, once-in-a-lifetime ceremony with my love.”
That made some sense.
Song Qingre sighed. “Qiuqiu, I gave you my wedding fund.” Her tone was heavy, shaking Yan Qingqiu’s heart.
“Why did your parents set up a wedding fund? That’s weird, it’s not for spending?” Yan Qingqiu’s heart raced, picking at flaws in her urgency.
“They didn’t expect to die so soon,” Song Qingre said softly.
Yan Qingqiu froze. Right, they died unexpectedly. “But why prepare it?”
Song Qingre gazed deeply at her. Yan Qingqiu felt something was up but didn’t dare press.
“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” she mumbled, embarrassed.
“If I did, you’d feel too pressured, maybe borrow from someone else or marry Fu Ye. Should I watch you jump into a fire? And Uncle wouldn’t take my money directly,” Song Qingre said.
“But you looked so guilty just now…”
“Caught lying, afraid you’d hate me.” Song Qingre admitted freely. “One lie needs more to cover it. Sometimes, lying makes your heart race.”
Yan Qingqiu glanced at her chest, tempted to touch it.
“You think I wouldn’t dare?” She reached out, lifting off the seat, fingers landing on Song Qingre’s chest. She felt warmth and a heartbeat—fast, but not too fast. Her own heart, though, was erratic, like a stalled engine.
“Artistically speaking, an irregular heartbeat counts as being moved,” Song Qingre said.
Yan Qingqiu let go. “No heartbeat, you’re dead.”
Her words disarmed Yan Qingqiu’s temper. She opened her mouth, unsure what to say. Song Qingre’s fingers tapped the wheel, honking the horn.
“Anything else?”
“I’m going to work.” Yan Qingqiu pushed the door open, poking her chest. “I’ll check. If you lied, Song Qingre, you’re done with me.”
Song Qingre nodded. “Check away.”
Yan Qingqiu ran off. Song Qingre didn’t follow, her car staying put. ER was still a distance away. Yan Qingqiu jogged, glancing back—Song Qingre watched through the window.
Why a wedding fund?
The system asked: [Do you believe her?]
Yan Qingqiu didn’t answer, heading straight to ER.
In the car, Song Qingre didn’t start driving, leaning back. Another car parked beside her.
Her fingers touched her chest, feeling the beat. She rolled up her sleeve, revealing a heart rate monitor—normal. Her fingertip grazed the screen.
Lying.
You get used to it.
The trick is to act convincing—flaws and all, people believe most of it.
Unless there’s undeniable proof.
Someone like her, insulted and hurt, couldn’t not know how to lie. One lie breaks, another weaves, like a spider’s web, relentless until the goal’s met.
Lowly, but who cares?
People like her, stripped of everything, become despicable and shameless.
Her phone rang on the console. Thinking it was Yan Qingqiu, she grabbed it quickly.
It was Ye Sichun, laughing. “Hey, Boss Song, got some news. Just ran into Luo Xi.”
Luo Xi meant Fu Ye.
Song Qingre asked patiently, “What happened?”
“Luo Xi was crying her eyes out. Apparently, Fu Ye met a woman, and she caught them. He scolded her. She thinks the woman was your little princess.”
“Qiuqiu? When?” Song Qingre asked.
“This morning. I was picking up my wrecked car and saw them at a café in West Ring,” Ye Sichun said, chuckling. “Big scoop, right? How you thanking me?”
“It wasn’t Qiuqiu. She was with me,” Song Qingre said, rubbing her phone screen.
“It wasn’t? I saw blonde hair… My mistake?” Ye Sichun sighed. “Guess I got it wrong. Luo Xi was sobbing, asking why everyone else was fine, but not her. That woman’s got issues.”
Song Qingre listened quietly. “Still, thanks. I’ll treat you to dinner.”
“Deal,” Ye Sichun said, unreserved. “I’m milking you.”
Hanging up, Song Qingre tilted her head, her face in the rearview mirror, eyes narrowed, expression darkly unreadable.
—
At ER’s entrance, Su Xingjie greeted Yan Qingqiu, eyeing her outfit. “Qiu-bao, why are you wearing Song Qingre’s clothes?”
Yan Qingqiu realized she still had Song Qingre’s jacket on, no wonder it smelled so good. “Ran this morning, got cold, so I grabbed hers.”
“You recognized it?”
“Her clothes often have a gold maple leaf embroidered.”
“Oh.”
Yan Qingqiu took off the jacket, draping it over her arm. Su Xingjie showed her the office—cute, with a heart-shaped sofa, soft to the touch. Su Xingjie patted it, inviting her to sit.
Taking a pillow, Yan Qingqiu sprawled out, limbs spread, comfortable.
“If anyone bullies you, tell me. I won’t let them off,” Su Xingjie said.
“No way, don’t worry,” Yan Qingqiu laughed.
Su Xingjie was overthinking, no one would dare mess with her bestie on her turf.
Thinking of the morning, Yan Qingqiu sat up, typing to ask Yan Fu about the fund. Today’s embarrassment lingered, how to broach it with her dad?
“What are you thinking?” Su Xingjie asked.
“Just something.” Yan Qingqiu figured Su Xingjie might know.
“What?” Su Xingjie looked curious.
“Nothing big, just…” Yan Qingqiu asked, “You know about trust funds? Song Qingre mentioned she has one.”
“I know,” Su Xingjie nodded.
“You do?”
Yan Qingqiu was shocked. Su Xingjie looked surprised. “It’s no secret. Everyone knows. Her parents were loaded, left her money for a wedding. But it’s locked until she marries.”
Yan Qingqiu was stunned. It’s real?
“How much?”
“About 5.2 billion, saved when she was a teen. Probably more now,” Su Xingjie said.
“!!!”
“That much?”
“They say in our circle, no matter her finances, her wedding won’t be cheap. If she wants the money, she just tells the fund managers she’s marrying, and it’s hers.”
“…Wow.”
Rich people’s money management blew Yan Qingqiu’s mind. She was shocked it was true.
“Why ask suddenly?” Su Xingjie said. “I don’t know if it’s true, but one thing’s sure, after her parents died, she didn’t get much. Too young for corporate battles, her company was carved up. Just the villa next to yours was left.”
Typical tragic heroine setup.
Thinking of Song Qingre selling her house, Yan Qingqiu rubbed her face, feeling uneasy. I was so harsh to her today.
“We talked about it. Got curious, gossiping. I bet Fu Ye chased her for that money.”
“How so?”
“Think about it—a scumbag could scam her, marry her, throw a million-yuan wedding, and she’d get 5.2 billion. Easy profit.”
“True, didn’t think of that,” Su Xingjie said.
Yan Qingqiu wanted to confirm with her dad, he’d know. But should she ask?
A vicious cycle.
Her dad probably still thought, My poor daughter, slaving away. How could she text him?
After long thought, she closed her eyes and sent: [Money’s repaid, Dad. I’m no slave, I’m free now.] She glanced at Su Xingjie, who was grinding coffee.
Yan Fu replied heavily: [Good, take care of yourself.]
Ignoring his concern, Yan Qingqiu typed: [Dad, do you know about Song Qingre’s wedding fund?]
Yan Fu: [Yes, what’s up?]
He typed, then switched to voice. “You used to say you’d marry Xiao Re, always talking about it, making her dad laugh. So Uncle Song set up a fund for her wedding. I’d forgotten until you asked.”
Yan Qingqiu froze.
That happened?
Yan Fu didn’t doubt her, years had passed, forgetting was normal. “Her parents doted on her. She grew up loved. Once, her dad said it wasn’t just a wedding fund. Xiao Re wanted to open a huge bakery, like in Kiki’s Delivery Service. They set it up for that, saying she’d use it when she married. I asked Song Zhong what bakeries had to do with weddings, he said it was their secret. After he died, I never learned what it meant.”
Yan Qingqiu didn’t get it either. Song Qingre was so young then. “Can she access it anytime?”
“No, it’s for marriage. Her parents died too soon, didn’t foresee things. It’s not completely locked—depending on the terms, she might get it with some loss.”
“How much loss?”
“No idea, I didn’t ask. Right after her parents died, asking felt like scavenging. The fewer who know, the better.”
Yan Qingqiu nodded. “You’re right, Dad.”
Before, with her hostility toward Song Qingre, Yan Fu asking would’ve been worse. He added, “Did Xiao Re take it out? Is she…”
“No, no! Just…” Yan Qingqiu, a master liar, fumed, “I heard gossip today. I bet Fu Ye chased her for that money. Despicable!”
“Oh.” Yan Fu doubted, then mused, “Are you ending that ‘relationship’ to marry her…”
Realizing, he blurted, “I approve.”
“No way, Dad, you got it wrong! Hanging up…” Yan Qingqiu scrambled to end the call, realizing it was voice. Too hasty. Sometimes, being too smart’s a curse.
Dad, approving what?
Pinching her cheeks, burning, she thought, I spent her wedding fund. Ugh, Yan Qingqiu, you’re something else…
Su Xingjie, not eavesdropping, set coffee beside her. “Figure it out?”
Yan Qingqiu sipped, perfect temperature, fragrant. “Yeah, it’s real.”
Su Xingjie didn’t get why she was upset. Didn’t she want Song Qingre to be rich?
Dropping the topic, Su Xingjie led her on a tour. Yan Qingqiu carried the gold maple leaf jacket. Su Xingjie assigned her a teacher, assistant, and stylist—a team of nearly ten. Yan Qingqiu felt it was too much. “Do I need this many? One assistant’s enough.” She came to work, not to be pampered.
She felt guilty, better to laze at home than hinder her bestie’s work.
“Too many people. I’m stressed,” she said.
Su Xingjie, about to argue, saw her discomfort and agreed. “Fine, two assistants.”
“Anything you want to eat, play, or change about the office, tell me.”
“Got it, I won’t hold back.” Enjoying her bestie’s care, Yan Qingqiu wanted to earn for her. “When do I start work?”
Time to clear that million.
“Since you signed, I spread the word. Companies are already booking you for commercials. Our models do business events. Runways are too early, I’ll arrange internal shoots. No rush, play around in the company.”
Yan Qingqiu nodded. The office was well-equipped. She explored, and an assistant announced the teacher’s arrival. Su Xingjie took her to meet them.
She also introduced her to other models—top ones, including a blonde, mixed-race star, Hibiscus, the company’s top model, 180 cm, striking.
Others greeted warmly, but Hibiscus’s gaze was off, faintly hostile. Yan Qingqiu understood, being a “connected” hire taking top resources would annoy anyone, especially a self-made star like Hibiscus.
Su Xingjie didn’t mince words, addressing the models. “From today, my bestie, Qiu-bao, is learning with you. You know our bond. I’m saying this now: exclude her, you exclude me. If she’s wronged, it’s on you. I won’t hear excuses. Even fake flattery, make her happy.” Her tone was stern, protective.
Yan Qingqiu tugged her sleeve. “No need to say that. I’ll manage.”
“It’s your first job. You don’t know workplace dynamics. I’ve been through…” Su Xingjie paused. “Never mind.”
Yan Qingqiu frowned. “Someone bullied you? They’re done for.”
“Old news.”
Su Xingjie hadn’t shared anything before, Yan Qingqiu was too busy feuding with Fu Ye and Song Qingre, unable to help. “Just listen to me. No pure friendships in the workplace.”
“Fine, you’re the boss.”
Yan Qingqiu noticed Hibiscus staring, her gaze too direct to ignore.
Frowning, Yan Qingqiu held back—first day, no fights, especially with the top model. But eventually, she shot a sharp glare back.
Does she like Xingxing?
Su Xingjie tilted her head. “What’s up, Qiu-bao?”
“Nothing, checking the mirror.”
The classroom, like a dance studio, was lined with mirrors, reflecting everyone’s state. Hibiscus’s cold stare hit her fully.
With Su Xingjie there, no words were exchanged, but Yan Qingqiu sensed future conflict with Hibiscus.
No need to clash with the top model on day one. She followed Su Xingjie to the classroom, added the teacher’s contact, and checked the schedule.
The teacher, a former supermodel, had a stunning figure. “I’m strict,” she said.
“Don’t worry, I can handle it,” Yan Qingqiu replied.
The teacher smiled warmly, updating her contact name.
Yan Qingqiu didn’t linger, leaving after the talk.
“Qiu-bao, feeling okay?” Su Xingjie asked.
“Totally fine.” Yan Qingqiu patted her shoulder, walking arm-in-arm. Passing an office, she glanced at Hibiscus, whispering, “Xingxing, someone in your company got a crush on you.”
“I know,” Su Xingjie said.
“You do?” Yan Qingqiu was shocked.
“Of course. Plenty do. I’m not ugly, I’m capable, and I’ve launched so many models and designs. It’d be weird if no one liked me.”
Her confidence glowed, eyes sparkling. Yan Qingqiu agreed.
Su Xingjie sighed. “Office romances are pointless. My secretary and assistant dated, mixed up work priorities, messed up files, slowed my money-making. I fired them, let them cuddle at home.”
Yan Qingqiu thought, Guess I can’t flirt with beauties here.
Back in the office, bored with no familiar faces, she browsed Hibiscus’s info online.
She was impressive—a child star, scouted at 17 or 18, mentored by Su Xingjie, who invested heavily in her. Hibiscus was grateful, loyal.
“She’s not under me anymore,” Su Xingjie said. “No time to manage her. She’s busy with international shows, perfume ads. I assigned her a manager recently.”
“Want to be like her? I’ll boost you like that.”
Yan Qingqiu shook her head. “Don’t say that, it’s bad for the company. People will think you’re biased, and your team won’t respect you.”
Over-favoring her, without her earning it, would embarrass Su Xingjie if she failed. People could be warm today, cold tomorrow, or even stab you. Yan Qingqiu wasn’t naive about workplaces.
Su Xingjie, surprised by her restraint, assumed she’d matured. “Fine, I’ll follow your lead. No pressure, don’t worry about earning for me. I’m loaded.”
Yan Qingqiu relaxed, setting down the tablet. “Let’s invite Song Qingre for dinner tonight.”
“Us, together?” Su Xingjie thought she misheard. “Why? To fight at the table?”
Their relationship was okay, but not dine-together close.
“I asked her yesterday, she doesn’t dislike you. You don’t dislike her either,” Yan Qingqiu said, sensing their tension stemming from her.
“No more fighting. It’s pointless. Let’s get along.”
Su Xingjie considered, nodding. She didn’t hate Song Qingre. If not for her meddling, Yan Qingqiu might’ve married that scumbag. Thinking of her bestie with him made her sick.
She rarely refused Yan Qingqiu, but Song Qingre’s antics made her grateful someone stood in the way.
“On second thought, I don’t hate her. But she might not join us,” Su Xingjie said.
“I’ll make it happen,” Yan Qingqiu said confidently.
Su Xingjie reminisced. “Back then, we ate together a lot, weekends with Song Qingre leading. Feels like a dream now… years gone by.”
Yan Qingqiu planned to call Song Qingre, pick a place.
But Su Xingjie had a big meeting. “Book it. If it works, we’ll go tonight. If not, I’ll take you out later.”
Yan Qingqiu gave an OK sign. After Su Xingjie left, she returned to her office. The assistant played international runway videos on the TV. On a massage chair, Yan Qingqiu fiddled with her phone, hesitant to talk with unfamiliar assistants around.
She sent Song Qingre a hushed voice message: “Don’t explain to my dad. I cleared it up.”
Song Qingre didn’t reply. Yan Qingqiu waited ten minutes, nothing, then played games and browsed apps.
Half an hour later, SendAutumn Studio’s front desk received flowers.
They got flowers daily—partners, admirers. Not all went to the office; sometimes they went to the secretarial room or stayed with staff.
The receptionist called the secretarial room. “No name on it, but the card’s… grand.”
“From the museum?”
Sheng Huajian said, “Bring it up.”
The receptionist glanced at the card, tempted to read it but couldn’t. She delivered it. Sheng Huajian, seeing the card, fell silent, telling the receptionist to leave it and knocking on Song Qingre’s door. “Boss, your flowers.”
“Hm?”
“From Miss Yan.”
The door opened. Sheng Huajian carried in the flowers. The receptionist marveled, knowing the sender without a name? Classic Flower Sister.
Is the boss getting hitched?
Sheng Huajian set the bouquet on the desk. Song Qingre paused her work, eyeing the blue gradient Iceberg roses.
She read the card, likely written by the florist: [Thanks for using your wedding fund for me. Nothing to repay but these flowers.] No signature.
The shop added: [Wishing the couple a century of happiness and eternal love!]
Song Qingre held the card, lips curving into a clear smile, leaning back. She chuckled, snapped a photo of the shop’s note, and sent it to Yan Qingqiu.
Waiting for a reply, Yan Qingqiu saw the image and panicked: [I didn’t write that!]
Song Qingre: [Scared me. Thought you were up to something.]
Yan Qingqiu’s heart skipped: [Listen, don’t explain to my dad. I handled it.]
Song Qingre: [So brave. How did you say it?]
Yan Qingqiu ignored the second part: [What else could I do?]
Heh, Dad’s probably imagining me flipping from slave to master, planning our wedding, naming our kids.
AO can marry and have kids here. How’s that gonna work? Not sure about genes. Whose surname?
Yan Qingqiu: [Maybe the shop didn’t get my intent. I was thanking you for helping me through this crisis.]
Song Qingre: [Picture. So, you wrote this?]
Yan Qingqiu froze. Did the shop write it, or was Song Qingre teasing her?
This woman’s good and bad.
Song Qingre: [First time seeing such a refined thank-you. Kinda spooked.]
Yan Qingqiu thought it was fine, she hadn’t promised herself, just gratitude. Still, she asked: [How much did you lose taking out that money?]
Song Qingre: [Relax, less than a billion.]
Damn!
Yan Qingqiu’s heart ached, clutching her chest:
[Losing money’s infuriating!]
Song Qingre: [I said I was marrying to withdraw it. Now, returning it, they’ll know I lied. No way around it, some loss is inevitable. My parents didn’t think it through, or I’d have accessed it abroad.]
Yan Qingqiu: [So, marrying lets you take it out?]
Song Qingre: [Yes, I only took part.]
Yan Qingqiu: [You’re so honest. Fake a marriage, get the money!]
Song Qingre: [Not that easy. Managers watch closely. Fake marriage, you get nothing.]
Yan Qingqiu: [Your parents, really—if you never marry, it’s locked forever?]
Song Qingre: [Maybe they didn’t think I’d stay single. It’s not completely locked, I can access it at 30.]
They didn’t imagine she’d stay single.
If her parents were alive, she wouldn’t have struggled so much.
In their memories, Miss Song and Miss Yan were so close, surely destined to marry.
Yan Qingqiu recalled Yan Fu’s added comment: You always said Song Qingre would differentiate as an omega, and you’d be her alpha, protecting her forever, making her the best omega.
Yan Qingqiu typed: [So, four or five years, you can take it all?]
Song Qingre: [Guess they thought if I’m single at 30, something’s wrong.]
Yan Qingqiu didn’t know what to say.
Who could’ve predicted?
Her parents took their childhood promises seriously.
Yan Qingqiu felt it was a pity: [Ugh, such a loss. Why didn’t you say that earlier? I’d have figured something out.]
Song Qingre sent a voice message, chuckling:
“What could you do? Set me up with someone to marry?”
Yan Qingqiu’s heart trembled. Marriage was no small thing, but for a billion, a fake one wasn’t impossible. Young people shouldn’t fight money.
She had no principles!
Though it wasn’t her money, she’d borrowed it—heartbreaking.
Song Qingre: [My parents left more than a billion. I’ll return this billion, see how much is deducted. I’ll still get something.]
Yan Qingqiu: [You haven’t returned it yet?]
Song Qingre didn’t reply.
Yan Qingqiu felt her question was dumb, she’d just repaid it today. Not returning meant no more funds; returning meant a loss. Heart-wrenching.
Song Qingre messaged: [Don’t worry. You pay for lies.]
In the chat, it wasn’t clear who she meant.
Yan Qingqiu’s fingers grazed the screen: [Not sure if you’re honest or foolish.]
Song Qingre, after a pause: [Ugh, Qiuqiu’s so smart. Help me figure out how to get the money back. Returning a billion might leave just tens of millions. My heart’s bleeding.]
See? Acting all cool earlier, now she’s hurting.
Yan Qingqiu knew that pain. Sitting up, she typed deliberately: [Call me Sister Quiqiu.]
Song Qingre replied instantly: [Sister Qiuqiu.]
Yan Qingqiu:
[Good girl.]
Song Qingre: […Looking forward to Qiuqiu Jiejie’s plan. If I get the money, I’ll split half with you.]
Yan Qingqiu: [So generous? Giving me half would kill you. Fool.]
Yan Qingqiu thought, Some are drowning in wealth, others parched. The system keeps pushing me to redeem my 365 wives. I’m scared I’d be the first drained dry by them, so I haven’t let them out. Meanwhile, Song Qingre doesn’t even have one wife. Honestly…
Song Qingre, called a fool, wasn’t mad. If she got the money, it’d be marital property—split evenly, not bad. Better than waiting until 30.
Her status flicked between “typing” and pausing, as if her clever brain was scheming something.
Yan Qingqiu typed, genuinely troubled. She knew nothing about this, she barely understood trust.
Then, a spark hit her: What if I redeem 365×2 wives and give one to Song Qingre?
Tch, I’m so generous. I’m touched by myself.