Willing to Be for Her - Chapter 35

“I… can’t find her anywhere anymore.”

Lan Leren stood in the snow-covered night, feeling as if he were gazing at the distant moonlight, even though he was standing right next to Ning Yiqing.

At that moment, no one could approach the woman, like an isolated island trapped in an icy sea, beyond reach.

He and Qin Shiyi had been wrong again.

Two years ago, on a rainy night, they had desperately brought the woman home from Luo Xuan’s tombstone and watched over her for twenty-four hours, fearing something might go wrong.

But miraculously, she recovered relatively quickly. Apart from insisting they continue searching for Luo Xuan without pause, she resumed her work as usual.

So everyone assumed Ning Yiqing was eating, sleeping, working, socializing, and handling interpersonal relationships as before. She rarely mentioned Luo Xuan to them, remaining serious, diligent, and responsible every day, leading them to believe her emotional wounds had healed and everything had returned to normal.

In truth, Ning Yiqing had never moved on.

She had simply… willingly trapped herself in that fabricated world.

They were all wrong to assume women had no heart, no feelings, and couldn’t possibly be deeply saddened. Ning Yiqing simply endured and concealed her pain, unable to confide in anyone.

But why did they assume she wouldn’t grieve or weep?

They were all terribly mistaken.

“President Ning,” Lan Leren said, struggling to find the right words of comfort. She could only offer bland, tasteless platitudes. “Try to look on the bright side. Perhaps your destined connection has run its course in this lifetime. Maybe you’ll meet again in the next life, and things will turn out better then.”

“The next life?” Ning Yiqing tilted her chin, her wet lashes drooping. Her lips, pale yet like a faded double-petaled rose, retained a delicate beauty even in sorrow. “In the next life, will she even remember me? I have to spend every day of this life in the time she’s forgotten me. What’s the point of talking about the next life?”

Lan Leren visibly held her breath, her mouth agape, unable to utter a single word. For someone who has forgotten you in both life and death, the only truth left is helplessness.

On the other side, a show staff member rushed over, panting, “Chairman Ning, the Editor-in-Chief said you wanted to see the post-New Year’s issue of the magazine and asked me to deliver it to you.”

Ning Yiqing pressed her palms against her eyes, put her silver-rimmed glasses back on, and took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.

“Alright, thank you,” she said, accepting the magazine. The staff member wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, visibly relieved.

The magazine was a meticulously crafted, gilded ten-year commemorative edition. Its cover featured a tangled thicket of thorns, from which bloomed a single bl00d-red flower.

A hand wearing a black obsidian ring with a cross-shaped flower hovered casually above the thorns, its purpose unclear: to protect the flower or to destroy it.

The hand was slender and bony, marked by countless small, pale scars that resembled fireflies dotting a frozen lake—a silent brilliance.

She knew this hand intimately. The cold, pale fingertip of the index finger bore a thin, oval callus of moderate size. A small, number “7”-shaped scar marked the callus’s upper left corner.

Her body recognized this callus far better than her eyes ever could.

It had once filled her with an overwhelming intensity.

The magazine’s paper was of the highest quality, possessing a jade-like warmth and delicate texture. After a moment of composure, Ning Yiqing’s fingertip traced the slender finger bones of the figure in the photograph, as if reaching across the void to touch a long-lost warmth.

In this desolate, snow-swept night, she seemed to have pierced through time and space, returning to a point of deep regret, instinctively grasping for something.

The staff watched as the usually composed and elegant woman clutched the magazine with surprising intensity, as if trying to reach through the thin paper and grasp that hand in the thorny thicket.

*Did they know each other?* they wondered. *Why would this refined and dignified woman care so deeply?*

In truth, the woman had always lived a life of privilege, every inch of her radiating beauty. Even her slender finger bones, now clenched tightly around the paper in a moment of uncharacteristic discomposure, remained captivatingly graceful.

“Chairman Ning, is there something wrong with the magazine?” the staff member asked nervously, licking his lips. “We can still make changes. Please let us know if there’s anything you’re not satisfied with.”

After a long pause, he finally heard the woman’s soft reply:

“No, there’s nothing wrong. It’s perfect. I love it.”

Her voice was slow and soft, as if afraid of disturbing something, as light as a cloud.

In the freezing cold, white vapor swirled around them. The staff member, eager to seize the moment, quickly pressed his advantage:

“The Editor-in-Chief has prepared your favorite tea in the fourth-floor reception room. If you’re not too tired, would you like to go now…?”

“Let’s go.”

Ning Yiqing’s unexpectedly swift and even eager response caught the staff member off guard. He had anticipated that someone of his stature would be more temperamental and difficult to deal with, not so agreeable.

Beside them, Lan Leren glanced at her watch. It was nearly midnight, and Ning Yiqing should be resting. Even if he couldn’t sleep, he needed to close his eyes and rest to protect his vision and prevent another severe episode of night blindness.

“Why not tomorrow? It’s too late tonight,” she murmured, urging Ning Yiqing. “I know Metemo is eager to discuss the show’s impact with you, but you need proper rest.”

“It’s fine. You go back and rest first. I have something urgent I need to ask now.”

Ning Yiqing signaled to Lan Leren that she was fine and strode ahead toward the fourth-floor reception hall. The night wind lifted strands of hair that framed her face, which was pale, yet her lips and fingertips felt feverishly hot, as if she were in a dazed, disoriented state.

The woman walked swiftly, her composed elegance barely concealing her urgency. The lingering scent of wind and snow made it impossible not to be captivated.

As expected, the Editor-in-Chief was waiting for them before the grand, dark green doors embroidered with gold. Upon seeing Ning Yiqing’s return, he immediately flashed a sincere smile.

“Chairman Ning, though it’s late, considering your busy schedule, I was wondering if you were satisfied with today’s show? What improvements should we make going forward?”

As they walked toward the second-floor reception hall, staff members clearing equipment automatically made way for them.

“I’m very satisfied,” Ning Yiqing said, her lips curving into a perfect smile that left everyone present both nervous and admiring. “Metemo’s designs this season are absolutely stunning. My colleagues and I are all deeply impressed.”

“Would you like to hear about our designers’ initial inspirations and creative vision?”

“I have something else I need to discuss with you.”

Her voice was elegant, so subtle that only a keen ear could detect the tremor beneath its surface.

“Le Ran, tomorrow, coordinate with the team to order all the styles from today’s runway show, as well as the jewelry featured in the magazine. Reserve multiple sizes and ensure Shiyi gets a set too.”

This “set” wasn’t just a single outfit and jewelry piece; it meant every design from the entire runway collection.

Ning Yiqing’s extravagant gesture left everyone in the room stunned. The room fell into an awed silence, broken only by the bubbling of the kettle as it heated water for tea.

The Editor-in-Chief, caught off guard by this unexpected generosity, paused for a moment before professionally praising Ning Yiqing’s unparalleled taste and discerning eye.

With the meeting room cleared, only the kettle’s gurgling filled the air.

“I know it’s impolite, but I need all the information on the cover model for this issue of Metemo Main Magazine.”

“You mean… this hand model?” The Editor-in-Chief’s gaze settled on the magazine cover.

“Yes,” Ning Yiqing replied, a faint tenderness hidden in her dark eyes. “She’s the special model I mentioned earlier—even her temperament is unique. But when she works, she’s incredibly dedicated, with a relentless focus.”

The Editor-in-Chief continued,

“For example, the wounds on the hand in this photo are all carefully considered. Sometimes we deliberately age scars or use symbolic imagery to emphasize the message. The theme of this cover is rebirth.”

It must be said, the hand emerging from the thorns on the cover was nearly perfect in its bone structure and flesh. Even the numerous scars possessed an undeniable, eerie beauty.

“Rebirth…?” Ning Yiqing murmured, tracing the calluses on the figure’s hand.

“Moreover, this model is quite special. She’s not affiliated with Metemo; she was a temporary hire recommended by an old friend of mine.”

“Then… do you have her contact information?”

The Editor-in-Chief shook his head, a troubled expression on his face. “One of her conditions for agreeing to the shoot was that we not disclose any contact details. Her recommender is also one of our major clients, so they have a high level of confidentiality. We can’t arrange a direct meeting.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he noticed the hopeful light in Ning Yiqing’s eyes dimming, as if even the waterfall-shaped crystal chandelier on the ceiling had lost some of its luster.

“Would you like to meet this model?” the Editor-in-Chief asked, discreetly studying Ning Yiqing. “I think… perhaps a chance encounter could be arranged.”

It was said that Chairman Ning had no interest in beauty, maintaining strict self-discipline and cold detachment. Why would he suddenly take an interest in an obscure, unknown model?

Moreover, in her view, being singled out by Chairman Ning was a blessing from the heavens. In terms of wealth, appearance, and temperament, no one could possibly be unworthy of him.

To put it bluntly, being with an Omega as stunning and captivating as Chairman Ning would be the real advantage.

The Editor-in-Chief hastily shook his head inwardly, trying to shake off these unhealthy thoughts. After spending too long in the cutthroat world of fame and fortune, it was easy to lose oneself.

“Yes,” Ning Yiqing replied, lifting his gaze. His dark eyes held an unfathomable depth. “I would like to meet her.”

“You are our esteemed guest, and we will do everything in our power to fulfill your wishes,” the Editor-in-Chief assured him, offering to call and inquire about the situation.

“Thank you,” Ning Yiqing said, his tone polite and gentle. While the Editor-in-Chief made the call, he strolled over to the arched floor-to-ceiling window of the reception room, idly twirling prayer beads in one hand.

When the Editor-in-Chief finished his call and turned around, he was inexplicably struck by Ning Yiqing’s lonely, forlorn figure. The woman’s dark hair was coiled high, her eyes lowered, her noble and beautiful features tinged with exhaustion and profound weariness.

*Even someone like him can feel lonely?*

They could have the whole world at their fingertips, so why did they wear such an expression of utter boredom?

After confirming the details with the photographer over the phone, the Editor-in-Chief hung up and approached Chairman Ning with a broad smile.

“Chairman Ning, Xiao Ya has one final shoot tomorrow. If you come after it’s finished, you should be able to see her.”

Ning Yiqing’s vision blurred, his heart racing as he was plunged into a state of anxious anticipation. He found himself momentarily speechless with nervous excitement.

“Chairman Ning, are you alright?” the Editor-in-Chief asked with concern. “Will you be able to come tomorrow?”

“I’m fine,” the woman replied, her mind drifting slightly. A fleeting tenderness crossed her usually impassive face. “Thank you for your help. But I have to wait until tomorrow, is that right?”

Hearing this expression of gratitude, the Editor-in-Chief felt both flattered and overwhelmed. She had merely made a phone call, yet it felt as if she had orchestrated some monumental event.

“Since we don’t know her address, you can only meet her when she comes for the shoot.”

The Editor-in-Chief swallowed nervously. She had never imagined that beneath the woman’s refined, measured tone lay such urgent need.

Though her serene, aristocratic face usually betrayed no emotion, it now seemed infected with a palpable sense of urgency.

“I apologize for my abruptness. Thank you for your help,” Ning Yiqing said, nodding slightly and expressing her gratitude once more.

“You’re too kind. It’s quite late now. I’ll escort you back to your hotel.”

“There’s no need to trouble yourself. You should rest too,” Ning Yiqing replied, relying on the faint light to guide her steps. As she reached the door and pressed her jade-white fingers against it, she suddenly turned back to ask, “Oh, by the way, do you know her name?”

“Xiao Ya. Her friend told us to call her Xiao Ya. It’s a bit odd, but easy to remember.”

“Xiao Ya,” Ning Yiqing murmured, repeating the name silently. A voice whispered in her heart, “Could it be you, Xiao Xuan?”

The door to the reception room opened, and Lan Leren rushed to drape a thick black velvet cloak over Ning Yiqing’s shoulders, feeling the woman’s body tremble slightly.

He couldn’t tell if it was from disappointment, anxiety, or fear that her hopes would be shattered.

Throughout the journey, even with the tortoise-shell-patterned velvet carpets laid over the polished marble floors, Ning Yiqing struggled to walk steadily. Descending the stairs, she nearly stumbled, her steps faltering.

At the entrance, Qin Shiyi arrived just in time to steady Ning Yiqing, her voice filled with exasperation.

“Yi Qing, your eyes are practically blind! Why won’t you follow the doctor’s orders? You need to rest them and avoid straining them. If the bl00d vessels rupture again, the doctor said you’ll lose your sight completely!”

“I know my limits. That won’t happen.”

“What ‘you have it under control’? You don’t have a damn clue,” Qin Shiyi snapped. She had been resting in the lounge, ready to return to the hotel with Ning Yiqing, when Lan Leren told her that Ning Yiqing was convinced he had seen Luo Xuan again.

Now she understood: Ning Yiqing’s madness was inexhaustible.

It came in waves, like a sea monster lurking beneath the surface. You thought it was gone, but it had merely been lying dormant, waiting to erupt.

And when it did, it surged forth uncontrollably.

The snow on the streets glared blindingly white, while the neon lights spread across the city, making Ning Yiqing’s eyes ache until tears streamed down his face.

“Shiyi, don’t worry about me too much.”

“What do you mean ‘too much’? You need to treat your eyes immediately. Apply the medicine properly so you can work tomorrow.”

Ning Yiqing shook his head, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. “It’s fine.”

Qin Shiyi and Lan Leren exchanged glances, both understanding the other’s unspoken thought: they had to force Ning Yiqing to apply the medicine right away.

In the deep winter night, the woman settled into the back seat of the business car. Fine snow swirled outside the window, framing her exquisite, dignified beauty.

The other two raised their collars against the biting wind and followed her into the car, where the heater was set to a comfortable warmth.

At one in the morning, the hotel room was filled with the pungent, bitter aroma of medicinal herbs, permeating Ning Yiqing’s bedroom.

Qin Shiyi, wearing a mask, approached and saw Ning Yiqing sitting alone in a dark cigar chair. A silver silk ribbon, patterned with cloud motifs and soaked in medicine, was wrapped around the woman’s eyes, tied with a delicate knot that disappeared into her raven hair.

“Your Old Master just called me, asking if you were satisfied with that Alpha from last time.”

“Who?”

The bay window was open, fine white snow drifting onto the cloud-patterned ribbon over her eyes. She tilted her head, cupping a flame in one hand to light a slender, equally pale cigarette.

“You know, the Alpha the Old Master tricked you into meeting at that ‘family banquet’ matchmaking scheme,” Qin Shiyi said casually, removing her shark clip and letting her hair fall loose.

A faint smile curved the woman’s lips as she placed the delicate cigarette holder between her soft, crimson lips.

“The Old Master’s resorting to self-deception now,” she remarked lightly. “After I embarrassed him, he still has the nerve to ask me?”

“The Old Master said you deliberately drank a lot that day. He even asked me why you, who never used to drink, suddenly started.”

“That Alpha doesn’t like Omegas who drink,” Ning Yiqing replied, the ends of his hair and ribbon swaying gently in the cold wind. “I drank for half the event and then left.”

Hearing this, Qin Shiyi gave Ning Yiqing a cool look. “What a pity. You quietly stepped on his landmines, and he ended up liking you even more. He even asked the Old Master to ask you out on a date.”

“What’s there to like about me?” Ning Yiqing lowered his head, letting out a self-deprecating chuckle.

How many people had gone to great lengths to engineer chance encounters, hoping for a fleeting moment with him?

Was that what they called “liking”?

What exactly were they after?

Was it him, his money, his power, or his status as the heir to the Ning Clan?

If he were naive, it wouldn’t matter.

But standing so high, he could see through all kinds of people: some treading on thin ice, others trembling with fear, some fawning and flattering, others lost in delusional fantasies, and still others clinging to power and wealth.

She had always found such matters tedious and utterly uninteresting.

But now… now that she had lost the innocent and romantic person she once was, she felt even more shallow, ignorant, cowardly, and incompetent.

*So shallow and hopelessly foolish—what was there to like about her?*

The melting frost dampened the silver ribbon between the woman’s brows, leaving a tender, softened mark.

“Alright, I’ll tell the Old Master again that you’re deeply dissatisfied. But,” Qin Shiyi shook her head, “he won’t give up easily. He’ll definitely pick someone else for you. You two stubborn old men are starting to enjoy going against each other.”

“I know. Grandpa can do whatever he wants,” Ning Yiqing replied calmly, completely unconcerned.

Sitting at the table, Qin Shiyi poured herself a cup of hot milk and quickly drained it. “You say that so casually now, but what about later? Didn’t you say yourself that you’ll have to get married eventually?”

The ribbon slipped down, brushing lightly across the woman’s delicate, high-bridged nose—smooth as jade, cool as frost, and as light as a breeze.

“Yes,” the woman said, grasping the ribbon in one hand as if plucking a cloud heavy with mist. “I say foolish things too. It’s quite amusing.”

“And what will you do during your heat cycles? The suppressants are almost useless, and your permanent mark has completely vanished. What’s your plan?”

“I’ll manage. I just need to endure it.”

“What if you can’t endure it one day? With your vision already compromised and your glands acting up, you’ll end up living in the hospital.”

Ning Yiqing felt the cold wind on her fingertips. Her permanent mark had disappeared a year ago. She had lost everything Luo Xuan had left in her body long, long ago.

So long ago it felt like a lifetime.

After a moment, Qin Shiyi saw a text message on her phone and changed the subject. “Le Ran got a cherry pie. Do you want to join us for a slice?”

“No, thank you.”

“Why not?”

The woman fell silent for three seconds before replying softly, “You should know why.”

“Yi Qing, since losing Luo Xuan, you can’t even eat cherries anymore?”

Ning Yiqing didn’t answer, her hand drifting involuntarily to the glands on the back of her neck, yearning for the nonexistent cherry pheromone.

“If I’d known you’d end up like this, I would have desperately tried to stop you from divorcing Luo Xuan,” Qin Shiyi sighed helplessly, pacing the room. “Who knew my words would become a self-fulfilling prophecy? Now all you can do is regret.”

“Even if you had tried, you probably couldn’t have stopped me,” Ning Yiqing said with a self-mocking tone, a sharp pain stabbing through her heart.

Qin Shiyi gasped. It was true; once Ning Yiqing made up her mind, she rarely wavered.

So now, Xuguo had no choice but to endure her suffering.

“You’re right. Get some sleep. I’m going to grab a late-night snack.” Qin Shiyi felt suffocated and needed to clear her head.

“I can’t sleep. Don’t worry about me,” the woman said, holding a cigarette between her fingers. The cold wind made the ember flicker erratically.

Qin Shiyi sighed, at a loss for words. “Maybe in time, you’ll feel a little better. Time heals many wounds.”

“Go to sleep,” Ning Yiqing simply replied.

Time doesn’t heal. It might help some people think less.

But she wasn’t one of those people. She couldn’t think less, not even a little.

The next day, Editor-in-Chief Metemo received a thank-you gift from Ning Yiqing: a Zisha tea set in a Xuan Wood box, accompanied by Da Hong Pao Rock Tea.

The gift was elegant and refined, neither ostentatious nor understated—precisely the kind of thoughtful gesture one would expect from a family with centuries of noble lineage. It struck the perfect balance, leaving a sense of contentment without feeling excessive or lacking.

After putting the gift away, the Editor-in-Chief hurried to the largest photography studio. The photographer was directing two models with contrasting hair colors—one black, one silver—to simultaneously catch and toss lit sparklers.

The sparks grazed their pale, sharp jawlines, illuminating their emerald-green eyes.

“Good, that feels right. Focus on Xiao Ya’s fingers and collarbone—absolutely no faces. Next position, let’s move on.”

The shoot’s theme was twins: two individuals with similar features but contrasting hair colors, symbolizing the harmonious balance of yin and yang.

Against a chaotic backdrop of black and white lines, the eerie allure of their emerald eyes, combined with their pallid, gaunt, and almost sickly appearance, created a striking contrast that was powerfully expressive.

This was the final set of photos. After the shoot wrapped, Luo Xuan changed into a long hoodie, cradled a mug of hot cocoa, and returned to the dressing room.

She lounged on the dark red sofa, her slender, slightly calloused fingers dangling as she toyed with the long black wig.

This was her first time wearing such a long wig, and she felt a bit uncomfortable, constantly itching.

A text message from Chi Li popped up on her phone: Chi Li had finished filming a drama and asked when Luo Xuan would be returning home so they could catch up.

After checking her schedule, Luo Xuan was about to reply when a knock sounded on the dressing room door.

“Xiao Ya, your friend is here,” said the partner who had been shooting with Luo Xuan earlier. Her already rebellious features, enhanced by makeup, bore a striking seventy percent resemblance to Luo Xuan’s.

With silver-dyed hair and emerald green contact lenses, even Chi Li would have paused in confusion upon seeing the two of them.

“My friend?” Luo Xuan scratched her head with one hand, her jade-like fingers threading through her tousled hair.

“Yeah, the Omega who came with you last time. The really pretty one.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Over the past two years, Luo Xuan had grown considerably. She no longer outwardly rejected social interaction, though she still felt uncomfortable and disliked it inwardly. At least she could maintain a passable facade.

She threw on a baseball jacket, her long limbs striding over a circle of stools as she made her way to the dressing room door.

“Wait, why don’t you want to show your face? Even the magazine cover only shows your hand?” Her partner casually picked up a slice of ham, but restrained herself to just one piece due to her weight-control diet. “I bet if you revealed your face, you’d become a sensation. Omegas, betas, even alphas would go crazy for you.”

“It’s just personal reasons,” Luo Xuan replied casually. “Besides, I’m just a latecomer to this industry, a self-taught amateur. My connection to modeling probably won’t last long.”

“You’re so young and an alpha. Is it your girlfriend who’s stopping you?” Her partner smoothed her long silver hair. As a mixed-race woman with slender, upturned eyes, she and Luo Xuan made a striking pair as twins.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Seriously? Isn’t that omega who keeps visiting you your girlfriend? She’s clearly special to you—always asking about you and showing concern. And you’re so attentive to her too!”

Realizing she was referring to Xia Zhiwan, Luo Xuan shrugged and smiled, reluctant to discuss her personal life. “We’re just good friends and family. Of course we care about each other. By the way, isn’t your girlfriend supposed to visit you today? Shouldn’t you go prepare a gift?”

“Right, right, right! I’m so tired I almost forgot to get the gift out.”

Luo Xuan’s eyebrows arched into a lazy smile, her dark hair enhancing her thorny beauty, a captivating allure with a hint of danger.

“Then hurry up.”

“But with your looks, it’s such a waste you’re not a model or something,” her colleague said, scratching his silver-dyed hair.

This guy radiated the aloof arrogance of an artist, with a touch of half-mad romanticism. No wonder everyone at Metemo had fallen for her so quickly.

The design director had even said several times that Xiao Ya was his muse.

Luo Xuan smiled shyly, always unsure how to respond to compliments, whether sincere, mocking, or envious.

Except for fighting. That she handled with effortless ease.

She pushed open the door and stepped out into the dark green corridor. Outside, Xia Zhiwan stood holding a bag of snacks, waving and smiling at Luo Xuan.

It had been a while since they’d seen each other, so their conversation flowed endlessly, neither wanting to stop.

The Editor-in-Chief stood in the light snow, holding an umbrella and waiting for the Rolls-Royce carrying Ning Yiqing to arrive.

Since she wasn’t attending a fashion show today, Ning Yiqing had returned to her usual business attire: an elegant cashmere coat, a black suit paired with a silk blouse—noble, refined, and coldly alluring.

“Chairman Ning, Xiao Ya should have finished her photoshoot. I’ll take you to see her now.”

On the snowy ground, Ning Yiqing suddenly stopped, her heart overwhelmed with a mix of anticipation and fear. For the past two years, she had never stopped sending people to search for Luo Xuan.

Some even heard she was looking for someone and came forward claiming to be Luo Xuan.

After the initial surge of anger subsided, she found herself both laughing and crying, her hopes soaring only to crash back down.

Disappointment and hope had become a cruel game of fate, repeatedly delivering her flowers of despair.

Now, she felt like standing before a brightly colored gumball machine, anxiously awaiting the outcome.

Joy and fear mingled, leaving her breathless with exhaustion.

She wasn’t one to accept fate, yet she had made so many mistakes.

She absurdly fantasized about turning back time, wishing she could make amends, apologize, and correct her errors.

But time is impartial, forever flowing forward, never turning back.

She longed to see Luo Xuan again, yet she also feared the encounter.

“I’ll go alone. No need to trouble you,” the woman unexpectedly refused, her seemingly calm demeanor masking a hint of anxiety.

However, Lan Leren and Qin Shiyi were resting at the hotel today, so no one could see the turbulent emotions swirling behind her transparent glasses.

“Very well,” the Editor-in-Chief naturally respected Ning Yiqing’s wishes. “She’s in the lounge over there, the room at the end of the corridor on the right. If you prefer not to be disturbed, we’ll take our leave.”

“Mm, thank you for your hard work.”

The Editor-in-Chief led the staff toward the studio in another building.

This city was prone to heavy snowfall. Even though it was still afternoon, thick clouds had already obscured the meager sunlight, and swirling snow mist blurred the horizon.

Ning Yiqing walked through the soft snow, stopping before the corridor the Editor-in-Chief had mentioned. After adjusting her glasses, her porcelain-like fingers curled slightly as she prepared to close her umbrella.

Yet her fingertips froze against the dark gold umbrella ribs, as if trapped in ice, utterly immobile.

The corridor lights were dim, but Ning Yiqing could still make out the silver-haired, green-eyed girl leaning casually against the deep green wall, her posture relaxed and romantic.

A beautiful Omega with smooth black hair and a petite, shapely figure emerged from a nearby room and approached the silver-haired girl. Both were slightly disheveled, their cheeks flushed and damp with a sultry heat.

In the dimly lit, narrow corridor, the slender silver-haired Alpha once again pressed the beautiful Omega against the wall, the two locked in a passionate, lingering kiss.

The snow-covered expanse was vast and secluded. Amidst the silent, burning intimacy, the soft sounds of their movements echoed through the air.

Standing at the boundary between the wind-whipped snow and the corridor, Ning Yiqing felt her eyelids burn despite the dim light and frigid temperature. Snowflakes landed on her face, melting into droplets that dampened her eyelashes.