Chapter 18

The curtains in the office stirred slightly, and the intense sunlight outside streamed through, turning the floor connecting to the desk into a stretch of white.

Song Qingre was too close. She blocked the light coming in, her breath falling on Yan Qingqiu's cheek, giving the illusion of a kiss. Song Qingre's thumb and forefinger pinched the small pointed bump on the back of her neck and asked, "Want it or not..."

It was a simple question, but spoken aloud, it sounded like a hint.

Yan Qingqiu's mouth said, "No need..."

But in her heart: I want it.

Song Qingre pressed her knee onto the chair Yan Qingqiu was sitting in, leaning further forward, her chin resting on Yan Qingqiu's shoulder. "How strange. Qiu Qiu is clearly an alpha, so why do I smell something fragrant on you?"

No good.

Yan Qingqiu pushed hard against her shoulder, but her strength was like hitting cotton. Alphas... were alphas always this strong?

Footsteps sounded faintly outside. Yan Qingqiu wanted to open her mouth and scream for help, but the door was locked too tightly. The person outside tried twice and couldn't open it, paused a few seconds, then continued knocking and asked, "Boss, are you in there?"

Yes, I am.

Of course I am.

Yan Qingqiu pinched her again, this time on her collarbone. "If you keep messing with me, I'll pinch you to death."

Song Qingre didn't seem afraid at all.

Sheng Huajian continued outside, "Boss, there are two contracts I need you to look over. Are you in there?"

Yan Qingqiu's face flushed red. She pushed Song Qingre several times, then clenched her fists and pounded on her. The alpha was like a tense leopard, firmly gripping its prey.

Yan Qingqiu pressed her hand against Song Qingre's shoulder, then punched her shoulder with a clenched fist and pinched her flesh. Song Qingre loosened her grip, and Yan Qingqiu stomped her foot on the desk, sending the chair sliding backward sharply. Finally, she was far away from her.

Yan Qingqiu gasped for air, her eyes turning moist.

Song Qingre slowly straightened up, her shirt now bearing a few creases. She looked at Yan Qingqiu with a smile, her expression somewhat strange.

Yan Qingqiu shrank her neck and quickly glanced at Song Qingre's fingers. The finger that had touched her lips was wet, but the one that had touched her gland was dry.

Yan Qingqiu was deeply relieved and almost shed tears.

Painful. I actually managed to hold it together.

Song Qingre wiped her middle finger with a tissue and asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Yan Qingqiu hadn't snapped out of it. Song Qingre paused for a moment, then continued in a gentle voice, "Want to go again?"

"No need." Yan Qingqiu's feet hit the ground as she frantically slid the office chair away from Song Qingre. She kept retreating toward the door, wanting to open it and leave, but Sheng Huajian had urgent business with Song Qingre and kept knocking outside.

Bang, bang, bang—two more knocks, as if they were hitting her shoulder.

Song Qingre had already wiped her fingers clean. She turned and tossed the tissue into the trash can, then looked back at Yan Qingqiu.

"You—me—your technique is so bad, you hurt me. Don't ever do that again." Yan Qingqiu was being stubborn again, blaming the other before she could speak.

Song Qingre narrowed her eyes. "Am I that bad?" She straightened up, hands in her pockets, and walked over step by step. "That's not satisfying to hear. Judging from how out of control you were just now..."

Yan Qingqiu grabbed the chair and slid far away again. She said, "Hmph, if I did it to you, you'd lose control too."

Her cheeks grew redder and redder.

Fortunately, she'd just entered the second stage of differentiation; her gland was only active, and the gland fluid was still dry. But in another week, that might change—she could turn into a flood bursting through a dam at Song Qingre's fingertips.

Yan Qingqiu's mouth was stubborn, but her body understood she couldn't let this continue.

"Really no feeling?" Song Qingre asked.

"How could there be feeling? Only pain."

"You're so good at enduring." Song Qingre smiled.

Yan Qingqiu said seriously, "It's not about endurance. Mainly, I'm a strong alpha with firm self-control. Seduction doesn't work on me in general."

Song Qingre turned to look at her, didn't refute, just curled her lips. She pressed her shirt collar down, folding it into a crease, and said, "You can come try mine, see if I have feeling..."

She didn't hesitate at all to directly invite Yan Qingqiu over to take a look. Yan Qingqiu was curious inside, but her actions were slow. She didn't have the guts to go.

There was no difference in appearance between omega and alpha glands, though alpha glands were somewhat larger while omega ones were smaller and more delicate. But there were exceptions—like some who looked like alphas but were actually so pathetic their glands were smaller than an omega's, commonly called "not quite up to par."

Yan Qingqiu's gland probably hadn't betrayed her.

At most, she was an alpha that wasn't very alpha-like!

"Not going to look?" Song Qingre asked again.

Yan Qingqiu shook her head firmly. No need.

But inside, she was wavering. What did Song Qingre's gland look like? Curious.

Song Qingre didn't insist on showing her. She hooked her collar with her fingers and covered her neck again.

Song Qingre's office chair had been stolen by Yan Qingqiu. Song Qingre didn't ask for it back. She picked up documents and sat on the gray sofa to continue reviewing them. After a while, remembering the still-knocking door outside, she looked at Yan Qingqiu, as if confirming her captive wouldn't escape, before going to open it.

Yan Qingqiu was also sneaking glances at Song Qingre. Suddenly, Song Qingre stood up. Yan Qingqiu had nowhere to retreat, and in a panic, she rose onto her tiptoes. "I—you—stop!"

Song Qingre went to open the door and turned her head to look. "What did you just say?"

Yan Qingqiu didn't answer. She turned around, pressed her forehead against the wall, then slowly shuffled as if pretending to look at the scenery outside the window. So awkward. Was she being a coward?

The citrusy fragrance drifted in thickly, spreading through the office. Yan Qingqiu felt she couldn't move—one more step and she'd go limp.

But Sheng Huajian, who came in to discuss the contract, didn't seem to smell it at all. She stood very close to Song Qingre and pointed at a few spots on the contract. "Boss Zhang bought three paintings, but now he's only willing to pay the original price."

"The contract should say there's a 30% penalty for breach. If he doesn't want them, we follow the contract."

"He means if we won't sell at the original price, he'll return them all. He refuses to pay now. Originally, the paintings were 400,000, and they could be bought at a raised price of 500,000. He snatched them up at 580,000." Sheng Huajian said, "He's just being a deadbeat, deliberately taking advantage of us, knowing we won't hold another exhibition soon. We have the contract, so we can't resell them. He's deliberately stalling to put us in a bind."

Art exhibitions thrive on novelty and scarcity. If you held them every day, they'd be no different from selling cabbages at the market.

Yan Qingqiu had originally planned to sneak away, but now she was curious. She perked up her ears to listen. She was the type to speak her mind, but she covered her mouth first, trying not to interject.

Song Qingre pinched the contract terms. "We haven't contacted legal yet."

"Mm, we've worked with law firms before. I asked around—suing isn't cost-effective for us. Hiring a lawyer would cost at least 100,000 to 200,000, and the trial wouldn't happen until next year. The quickest would be a year and a half to two years. If your paintings appreciate, he could pay us in two or three years and still come out ahead..."

"Go to the media and report Mr. Zhang's attempt to lowball the paintings. See if we can earn some money from the information. After that, use that money to send a lawyer's letter on Weibo. I think Mr. Zhang will come to us on his own."

"Then will the paintings still be sold?"

"If it's all over Weibo, why would I still sell to him? My paintings aren't that cheap. Just tell him I'll never sell to him again. Go handle it."

Song Qingre wasn't angry. Her tone was flat, calm throughout. Then she looked at the second contract, confirmed there were no issues, and called up another assistant.

Yan Qingqiu was shocked. Impressive.

Just now she was so flirtatious, but now she was so capable?

Yan Qingqiu didn't fully understand her studio's business model. She could only partially grasp it—Song Qingre wasn't just painting anymore; she took on artistic commissions, like art direction for fashion shows, artistic design for opera theaters, and even movies inviting her to design scenes.

Her business was wide-ranging.

It also showed one thing: extensive connections and strong ability.

Yan Qingqiu walked along the base of the wall, wandering idly around her office. Song Qingre's slender fingers held a pen to sign documents. Yan Qingqiu always felt Song Qingre's fingers on that pen weren't clean.

"There are some things in your office that I want. Later, you can just count them toward my debt." Yan Qingqiu said. She wasn't entirely unreasonable, though—if she couldn't take something, she wouldn't; but if she could, she wouldn't stand on ceremony and would just take it as repayment.

Song Qingre paused her pen and nodded. "Take whatever you like."

Yan Qingqiu unceremoniously pulled out her notebook. While Song Qingre reviewed documents, she seriously appraised the items in Song Qingre's office—glancing at Song Qingre's desk, then at the paintings on the wall. When she couldn't be sure, she used her phone to scan and identify them.

When an assistant came in to serve tea, Yan Qingqiu stood beside Song Qingre. Song Qingre reviewed documents, and Yan Qingqiu looked at Song Qingre's pen. Once Song Qingre finished signing, Yan Qingqiu took the pen, examined the brand on the cap and nib, and noted it in her little notebook.

"How much is it now?" Song Qingre asked.

Yan Qingqiu handed the pen back and stowed her notebook. "Don't worry about it."

"Most things here are not very valuable—replicas..." Song Qingre said. "If you want them, I'll just give them to you."

Assistant: "?"

Shocked. Which of these items was worth less than 100,000? Some antiques were worth a million! She looked again—Song Qingre was serious, fingers interlaced, gazing at Yan Qingqiu with a gentle smile.

Yan Qingqiu sat in Song Qingre's office chair with her notebook and silently crossed out a zero at the end of every item's value.

Song Qingre was too poor. Everything together didn't even reach a million.

So poor... She couldn't bear to take everything.

Really a headache.

How come collecting a debt was this painful?

Song Qingre tapped her fingers on the blue folder cover and held out the pen. "This one's for you. Deduct the cost yourself."

Yan Qingqiu took it without hesitation. She'd been eyeing it for ages.

At noon, the studio employees got off work to have lunch. Song Qingre's office had moved from the previous office building to the exhibition venue, right next to an upscale restaurant. She asked, "I'll take you to eat. Order whatever you want."

Yan Qingqiu was indeed hungry, but she was also afraid Song Qingre would flirt with her.

Song Qingre asked directly, "Are you that scared of me? Because of earlier..."

"How could that be?" Yan Qingqiu said seriously, "You haven't paid me back today. If you'd paid me back sooner, I'd have left long ago."

"Oh, right." Song Qingre looked as if she'd just remembered. She told her secretary to have finance transfer 500,000 to Yan Qingqiu.

Yan Qingqiu felt embarrassed to take that much. Song Qingre's painting sales had so many hurdles—it seemed the world was deliberately targeting her just so the male lead could come to her rescue. Yan Qingqiu lowered her head and continued writing in her little notebook, while Song Qingre picked up her phone. "Let's go."

Near the company was an upscale restaurant with good food. Song Qingre took the menu and ordered. Yan Qingqiu wanted to pull out her little notebook to record, but seeing how unhurriedly the other ate, she felt embarrassed.

Song Qingre said considerately, "Use your phone to record."

Yan Qingqiu switched to her phone.

Song Qingre paid, Yan Qingqiu kept track. After leaving the restaurant, Yan Qingqiu planned to hail a cab home herself. If she could avoid it, she'd never be alone with Song Qingre again.

Song Qingre glanced at the time and said, "I'll drive you back."

Yan Qingqiu wanted to say no need.

Song Qingre countered, "What are you afraid of? There are plenty of alpha drivers now. What if you run into one in a bad state..."

Yan Qingqiu got into her car. "Drive carefully. Don't talk."

"Fine, I won't talk."

Once in the car, Song Qingre adjusted the navigation and asked, "Qiu Qiu, what does your pheromone smell like?"

Yan Qingqiu's legs went weak. She felt like she'd boarded a thief's car. What did her pheromone smell like...

She thought hard. Well, she didn't know either.

Previously, "she" had been a beta pretending to be an alpha—betas didn't have pheromones. Who knew what she'd claimed her pheromone smelled like back then?

"Didn't I tell you not to talk while driving?" Yan Qingqiu frowned, her voice rising.

Yan Qingqiu asked the System, but it was useless. The System stayed silent, clearly not knowing.

Song Qingre drove easily, no extra emotion on her face, seemingly not all that curious about the question. Yan Qingqiu was afraid her racing heart would scare...

"Okay." Song Qingre pressed her lips together.

Yan Qingqiu secretly fished out her earphone case from her bag and put on the earphones. That way, whatever Song Qingre said next, she could pretend not to hear and not answer.

She secretly took out her phone to message Su Xingjie. Her best friend should know. On second thought—what if Song Qingre saw it? Wouldn't that expose her even more?

Meanwhile, Song Qingre seemed to say something.

Song Qingre glanced over and said, "Don't keep crossing your legs like that. It can deform your bones. It's bad for your health."

"My bones are hard. I just like sitting like this." Yan Qingqiu said.

Hearing Song Qingre laugh softly, Yan Qingqiu frowned. What was so funny?

She crossed her legs tighter and tighter. Couldn't take it anymore.

The car stopped.

"Is it tap water?"

Song Qingre continued to ask, and as Yan Qingqiu was about to fake anger again, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "The car's stopped."

Yan Qingqiu didn't answer. She feigned anger. "What do you mean?"

"Just remembering how wet you were last time. I'm curious." Song Qingre said.

Last time Song Qingre had helped ease her, and even then Song Qingre had said she was too wet. Yan Qingqiu's face burned with shame as she bit her tongue. "Pervert."

"Yeah, I feel like I've evolved into a pervert." Song Qingre faced herself with complete honesty.

Yan Qingqiu was too guilty—she felt the words were aimed at her. She unbuckled her seatbelt quickly, and Song Qingre took the chance to lightly pinch her nose. "Stay home and behave. Don't run around everywhere."

Somehow, she felt those words were not well-intentioned.

"Go on." Song Qingre helped push the door open for her.

But Yan Qingqiu misunderstood and slapped her hand away, lifting her chin desperately to prove she was a fierce alpha—dangerous, untouchable.

It was just a pity she couldn't see herself, or she'd see how red her face was—that flush like the evening glow staining the sky, burning the clouds one patch at a time. If Song Qingre used a bit more force, she could make her cry, make her eyes wet.

Song Qingre pressed her lips together, barely holding back a laugh. "Qiu Qiu, are you about to cry?"

Yan Qingqiu felt exposed, but before she could even pull her emotions back, her mouth spoke first. "What are you talking about? I'm not going to cry. Waa..."

Song Qingre suddenly leaned in, her lips a strand of hair's distance away.

"Want to kiss me?"

Ten more seconds.

Yan Qingqiu's swallowing was clearly audible.

Then, the car door was pushed open hard from the inside. Yan Qingqiu jumped out of the car, and because she was running too fast, her knee nearly hit the ground.

Song Qingre reached out to help but missed—she ran too quickly.

The window was half lowered. Song Qingre tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, watching her run lively into the courtyard.

She mused, running her fingertip along the steering wheel's grooves.

Was... she mistaken?

That shouldn't be.

She was that afraid.

Yan Qingqiu ran into the courtyard, then all the way into the living room. Once she was sure Song Qingre's line of sight couldn't reach, she sprinted to her room. She almost fell to her knees.

Good thing she was smart and ran—if she'd walked, she'd have collapsed in two steps!

The door locked, she hiked her skirt up a bit, then, too embarrassed, went into the bathroom. She lowered her head for a look, then squeezed her eyes shut tight.

Little sister, you've suffered.

Crying several times a day—my heart aches for you.

Wah wah wah.

...

After her bath.

Yan Qingqiu lay in the bathtub, head tilted back, thinking hard about a way out.

She even considered following the doctor's advice and buying some little toys to soothe her unruly emotions, but she was an inexperienced adult, and... just too shy.

Then she thought again—this was all Song Qingre's fault for teasing her like that. Yan Qingqiu was furious. She stood up in the bathtub and stomped around wildly, panting. After finishing, she lay back in the water and sighed. She began to worry: was Song Qingre starting to suspect she was an omega? Otherwise, why had Song Qingre pinched and touched her like that today? If not for her firm self-control, Song Qingre probably would have shamelessly kissed her gland...

Thinking about it, she shrank her neck.

What would it feel like to kiss a gland?

Yan Qingqiu touched her gland—it was scorching hot. She got up, dried off, lay on her bed, mulled it over, and sent a message to her best friend.

【Xing Xing, you remember what my pheromone smells like, right? Today someone actually said my pheromone had no scent. So infuriating!】

Su Xingjie replied instantly: 【Didn't you say you were so alpha that you couldn't smell anything? Normal people can't pick up your scent. Those people are just incapable themselves, right?】

It seemed the original "she" had been somewhat clever—knowing that giving a specific scent would raise suspicion. But Yan Qingqiu was curious: "she" and Su Xingjie were so close, to the point where Su Xingjie was utterly devoted to her, even closer than real sisters. Yet "she" had still hidden things from Su Xingjie, claiming to be an alpha. Strange.

It really didn't add up.

But next time Song Qingre asked, she'd have a perfect answer.

Su Xingjie: 【I've sent the clothes and shoes over. Remember to check them against the list. I'm not busy tomorrow; come hang out with me then.】

Yan Qingqiu lay on her side. The mirror beside her reflected her current appearance, a smile at the corner of her lips. Having been here for over a month, Yan Qingqiu didn't really dislike this life. She pressed her cheek against the back of her hand...

So smooth. I'm so pretty.

The butler called up from downstairs, "Miss Su's assistant is here. She's brought several clothes and shoes. Come take a look."

Yan Qingqiu went downstairs to look. There were even more clothes and shoes than before—bags and bags being brought in. The rich best friend was too generous; she felt bad taking them for free. Happily, she carried a few outfits back and planned what gift to give in return.

Yan Qingqiu originally hadn't planned to go out. The doctor had said that secondary differentiation had three stages: the early stage was fever, the middle stage brought omega traits, and the late stage was... heat.

Once through the heat, she'd fully become an omega.

The middle stage was extremely unstable. Who knew if she'd suddenly mutate?

Yan Qingqiu sent Su Xingjie a thank-you message.

Su Xingjie: 【I'm not mad at you anymore. Come out and play.】

She invited twice in a row. Yan Qingqiu thought it over and stayed home for a day, eating and drinking in her own room, until she came up with a viable plan.

From what she knew, tasks only triggered when related plot points occurred. As long as she didn't trigger them, kept hiding and avoiding, she should be able to scrape by.

The plot point about cutting the gland would definitely trigger during her heat.

Her differentiation was uncontrollable—she'd definitely go through it.

So what if she absolutely refused to give Song Qingre a chance to get into bed with her?

Yan Qingqiu thought it through and left the house, heading to the quiet bar she'd agreed on with Su Xingjie. The bar was quieter than the noisy, jumping dance halls. It was Yan Qingqiu's first time at such a place, but she pretended to be a regular, scanning the entrance before spotting Su Xingjie.

She pulled out the box from her pocket and shoved it at Su Xingjie.

"What's this?" Su Xingjie opened it curiously. Resting on the velvet was a large diamond, refracting beautiful light under the lights.

"For you." Yan Qingqiu propped her chin on her hand. "A small token of appreciation."

"This is really expensive. You bought it at the auction before, right? I remember you said you wanted to give it to Fu Ye and competed with several people to get it." Su Xingjie recalled, her fingers stroking the diamond.

Yan Qingqiu let out an "Ah." She kind of wanted to take the diamond back. Wasn't this a secondhand item? How could she give that to a good friend!

Su Xingjie didn't mind. She held the diamond up to look, then, thinking of the crowd, closed the box. She seemed a bit shy and said quietly, "I wanted it back then too, I just didn't dare say."

She smiled, a small dimple on her cheek, her happiness plainly shown. Yan Qingqiu felt happy too—value didn't matter.

Su Xingjie put the box in her bag and pushed the juice she'd ordered toward Yan Qingqiu. "Did you like the clothes I sent today? I'll send more next time. I've designed a bunch of pretty clothes at home recently and kept asking you to move over, but you never did. I just don't get you."

Yan Qingqiu was wearing the clothes she'd given her, even the bag was changed.

She'd actually thought about moving, but saying it out loud might scare Su Xingjie—the "mistress" incident last time had already hit her hard.

The reason she didn't want to drive Song Qingre away was simple: what if her heat suddenly hit and the System forced her to be with Song Qingre to clear the level? Going to find Song Qingre would waste a lot of time. Besides, the male lead wasn't a good person anyway—what if he caused trouble...

Saying this, Yan Qingqiu bit down hard on her straw. She felt someone at the bar staring at her, so she glared back and said, "Why do I keep feeling like someone's watching me? So annoying."

"It's because of what happened before." Su Xingjie frowned, only saying half, as if she didn't want to bring it up.

Could there be a plot here? Maybe she could earn exploration points.

Yan Qingqiu asked, "What happened? I don't remember."

"About you pursuing Fu Ye, remember? You downed ten drinks here, ended up in the hospital from drinking, and Fu Ye—he, his conscience got the better of him, and he agreed to get engaged to you." Su Xingjie spoke while watching her expression.

Yan Qingqiu's face gradually twisted. She absolutely couldn't accept this. "That? Don't bring it up again. It's the biggest stain on my life."

"Then should we change places?" Su Xingjie asked.

"No." Yan Qingqiu was about to get up, then sat back down, having thought it through. "We need to face our past head-on. If we keep hiding now, what's the future?" Besides, it wasn't even her who'd done it—why be scared?

Then she asked the System: 【Has the plot accumulated to 50% yet?】

System: 【Not yet. Just 0.01 short. Keep it up, Host! But your stats are still number one on the leaderboard! The bonus has been applied for. Once you complete it, you'll get double the reward.】

"Ha." Yan Qingqiu couldn't help but laugh.

"What's wrong?" Su Xingjie looked at her curiously.

"Nothing." Yan Qingqiu had been through plenty in the real world; she knew this kind of gimmick inside out. The reward was actually the same—they just said "double" to entice you into inviting others to register. You'd never know which would run out first: the 0.01 or your friend list.

Just then, her phone rang.

Su Xingjie lifted herself to look.

The screen showed an unknown number. Yan Qingqiu hung up directly. Soon, the other side called again. She answered impatiently, her tone harsh. "Hello? Is this Fu Ye? Piss off, okay? Are you insane..."

"Ah... I—are you Miss Yan? This is Sisyphus Bar. Mr. Fu has been drinking all night, and your number is on his phone screen. Can you come pick him up?"

Yan Qingqiu was at Sisyphus Bar.

"It's only 7:30 now. What all-night drinking? If he drinks himself to death, it's got nothing to do with me." Yan Qingqiu cursed back with a frown. She'd thought about telling the bartender to call Luo Xi, but then realized this kind of plot was usually: the supporting female appears, the male lead mistakes her for someone else, and they have a one-night stand.

Disgusting.

As a fellow supporting female, Luo Xi was detestable, but better not to harm her.

"Throw him out on the street. Annoying. Don't call me again. If you do, I'll demolish your bar tomorrow. Also, don't throw him to any women—if he goes feral and hurts someone, you're an accomplice." Yan Qingqiu cursed "idiot" into the phone and hung up.

So annoying.

Not far away, the bartender was embarrassed by the scolding. He looked at Fu Ye and handed his phone back. "Miss Yan said she's not coming..."

Fu Ye had gotten word the moment Yan Qingqiu entered the bar. He'd ended his meeting and driven straight over, wearing an expensive suit. He sat at the bar, fingers interlaced, waiting for Yan Qingqiu to come over. But Yan Qingqiu and Su Xingjie only chatted more enthusiastically, and whatever they said in between, she wore a look of disdain.

Fu Ye had a feeling it was about him.

Fu Ye's face turned awful—Yan Qingqiu's first sentence had humiliated him. The young masters beside them drained their glasses, laughing so hard they could barely breathe. Some even pounded on the sofa. "Looks like she really doesn't like you anymore. You used to treat her like a fool, betting on her daily. Now she doesn't like you. I remember once she came to the bar looking for you, and you humiliated her in front of everyone, made her drink ten glasses—mixed drinks, and she collapsed right after..."

"Enough. Shut up." Fu Ye was deeply displeased, his fingers tightening. His gaze couldn't help but drift back to Yan Qingqiu. She tucked her hair behind her ear, laughing brilliantly under the lights, and when she pouted, she was utterly adorable.

He turned his head and spotted a figure.

Song Qingre had arrived at some point.

In Fu Ye's memory, Song Qingre had only come here once—the time Yan Qingqiu drank herself into the hospital for him. Song Qingre had rushed over frantically. He'd thought she was abroad, but it turned out she'd come back.

At that moment, though, he'd been moved by Yan Qingqiu. He knew she loved him desperately and that he had to take responsibility, so he said sorry to Song Qingre.

And Song Qingre, upon hearing that he was with Yan Qingqiu, had made the expression that broke his heart more than anything in his life.

She stood at the bar, her clenched fists loosening, the tension in her body seeming to dissipate in an instant—unable to gather, unable to hold together, swallowed by the darkness as if she'd lost everything, utterly devastated.

Fu Ye remembered her staring straight at him, hatred in her eyes.

Only love pushed to the extreme would cause that.

It was at that moment Fu Ye realized Song Qingre liked him. They'd just missed each other—always passing by at the worst times.

He grabbed his glass and walked straight over, gritting his teeth as he sat beside Song Qingre, ordering a drink for her.

He didn't believe Yan Qingqiu wouldn't be jealous.

Song Qingre didn't refuse when she saw him. She picked up the glass. She wore a thin black suit, carrying an innate artistic aura that clashed with the place. She preferred being alone, and even in a lively bar, plenty of people came to chat her up.

Beautiful women always drew the most attention.

Once Fu Ye left, the group instantly understood his intent and gossiped even more brazenly. "Fu Ye's probably fallen this time. Honestly, I never thought Yan Qingqiu was all that pretty before, but now that she doesn't like Fu Ye, I feel like this girl's got a spark—she's pretty cool."

"Right? Yan Qingqiu was always pretty, just too thick-headed, seemed dumb and dull. Before, she had zero charm."

As they spoke, Tang Ling snapped his fingers and had the bartender send a glass of juice to Yan Qingqiu. She was chatting animatedly with Su Xingjie when the bartender delivered the juice and pointed toward Tang Ling. Yan Qingqiu saw an exaggerated smile, shook her head, and turned away without even looking at him. "I don't drink things from strangers. Take it back."

Tang Ling was taken aback. "Her expression's so cold. It's like she really doesn't know me. Interesting."

"No kidding."

Yan Qingqiu later noticed Fu Ye too and nearly chewed her straw to bits. Su Xingjie sat beside her, glancing at Yan Qingqiu, then at Song Qingre. She sensed Yan Qingqiu was angry, though unclear about what exactly.

Su Xingjie waved her hand in front of Yan Qingqiu's eyes. "Qiu Qiu, keep telling that fairy tale. Are you still looking at... Song Qingre?"

"No I'm not! I just think that drink of hers looks good."

Su Xingjie snapped her fingers, and a server came over. "One Mint Gentleman. Actually, make it two."

Yan Qingqiu looked at her, still wanting to peek at Song Qingre.

Really, sometimes even a best friend didn't need to be that generous.

Yan Qingqiu swirled the glass and sniffed it. The mint was too sharp, numbing her brain. She took a sip and grimaced. She continued, "So in this fairy tale... there's a princess who's an alpha. A witch predicts that when she turns eighteen, she'll differentiate into a rare SSS-level omega. Also, a beautiful woman will lie in her bed. The price is that her gland will be cut out."

"This..." Su Xingjie thought seriously. "Then differentiation isn't necessary. Even though we omegas all want to be top-tier omegas."

"So how does this princess survive?" Yan Qingqiu imagined herself as the princess and felt embarrassed, hiding her blushing face behind her hand. She'd tried leaking mission details before, but the System always warned her slightly. Today she could actually say it in fairy tale form—that was strange.

As the saying went, two heads are better than one. What if her best friend was smart enough to figure out a solution?

Su Xingjie immediately thought of something. "I know."

Yan Qingqiu quickly leaned in.

Su Xingjie said, "Marriage! The story must be that the princess marries the woman, and then the princess immediately revives and lives happily ever after."

"..."

Yan Qingqiu took another sip of the Mint Gentleman. So spicy.

"Marriage won't work. I need to prevent the gland-cutting incident."

Su Xingjie kept thinking, her head aching. She propped up her chin. Just then, a man came over, called her "sister," and asked for her WeChat. Su Xingjie coldly ignored him, not even giving him a glance, and continued talking with Yan Qingqiu.

Yan Qingqiu couldn't help but marvel—Su Xingjie's coldness was seductive, with a special flavor.

Su Xingjie said, "Have the king move all the beds in the world away and tie that woman up. That way the situation's prevented. Unless it's a supernatural event—a bed appearing out of thin air."

"...Um, that might work." Yan Qingqiu listened, imagining how to tie Song Qingre up. It was too lewd. She drank too fast and accidentally finished the glass.

Su Xingjie sat for a while, then said quietly, "You're looking at Song Qingre again."

"I'm not! I just really like this drink." Yan Qingqiu ordered another and took a sip. She felt a bit dizzy. "Hey, let's gossip a little. Why would Song Qingre, an artist, come to a bar?"

Su Xingjie wanted to say "for you," but that sounded weird. "Artists have desires too. If she wants a drink, she drinks."

"Mm." Yan Qingqiu took another sip; the glass was nearly empty. She set it down and stared over, always watching the drink in Song Qingre's hand, feeling uneasy. She reached into her bag for her accounting notebook, planning to snatch Song Qingre's drink with the ledger. Maybe because she'd lowered her head too fast, when she looked up again, she said seriously, "Sis, I think I'm gonna puke."

Su Xingjie heard wrong and was genuinely shocked. "What? Why do you want to cry? You're not really falling for Song Qingre, are you?"

"..."

Even worse.

Su Xingjie supported Yan Qingqiu to the bathroom to throw up, but there were too many people inside. She led Yan Qingqiu outside, surprised—Yan Qingqiu's alcohol tolerance had been fine just now, but now she was staggering. "You're not poisoned, are you? You've never reacted this badly."

The alcohol hit, and Yan Qingqiu felt dizzier.

Damn it. She'd never drunk alcohol before—once she'd had sweet rice wine balls at a street stall and been dizzy for a day. She'd thought that in this body she'd have a high tolerance.

"Ugh, I still want to throw up."

Su Xingjie had already helped her outside. Since it was a quiet bar, no one had thrown up as violently as her, so their behavior drew attention. Su Xingjie gave Yan Qingqiu mineral water to rinse her mouth and patted her shoulder. Yan Qingqiu vomited until her soul felt scattered, like she was stumbling on cotton. She wanted to explode, to let out a loud roar.

"So awful, so awful. Ugh."

"Qiu Qiu."

Fu Ye followed them out and walked straight toward Yan Qingqiu, reaching out to support her.

Before his hand could touch her, it was slapped away. "Don't touch her."

The force was too strong; Fu Ye's hand stung. He smelled the strong repelling aura of an alpha—a familiar scent. He turned his head to look. Song Qingre sidestepped him and walked over to Yan Qingqiu.

"Qingre..." Fu Ye didn't understand. She'd just been sitting beside him, so how had her aura turned so different—like she'd become another person?

Song Qingre seemed not to hear him. She supported Yan Qingqiu's waist with fluid motion. Fu Ye was first startled—he was an alpha too, and her aura pressed down on him uncomfortably—then he quickened his pace to block them.

The imagined scene of two women fighting over him never happened.

Song Qingre glanced at him sidelong. Her slightly dark lips made her look sinister, her brown eyes unmoving. A strand of her updo fell loose, brushing her cheek. She seemed to sink into shadow, revealing a gentler side. "What is it?" she asked coldly.

At that moment, Fu Ye felt he wasn't looking at an unattainable cold moonlight, but at the moon that dominated the entire world, its cold light splitting the night in two.

By the time he snapped back, Song Qingre had already gotten the woman into the car. The door slammed shut, and he still hadn't snapped out of it, unable to imagine this was Song Qingre.

Hadn't she just...

Fu Ye sat in his car, fuming, and kicked the front seat. He'd come today to reconcile, but he'd lost face for a lifetime. He was furious at Yan Qingqiu for cursing him and at Song Qingre for her coldness.

What annoyed him even more was that these two women really seemed to have stopped liking him—and seemed about to get together.

He asked the driver, "When does Yan Fu come back?"

The driver made a call and put it on speaker.

The person on the other end said, "Yan Fu is at the CCI research institute abroad now. He's putting a lot of stock in this new product, since word is if the Yan family can't launch anything new, they might as well go bankrupt..."

Fu Ye cut him off directly. "Pull the funding."

"What?" The person on the call froze.

"Why pull it?"

"Money isn't given free to outsiders." Fu Ye said coldly. He'd see how far Yan Qingqiu would go. She was just relying on his indulgence, being willful.

"If we pull out, the Yan family's current investment will all be sunk. We'll take losses on that project too."

Fu Ye didn't care. "Just a small loss."

"But it's a major blow to the Yan family. If the Yan family goes bankrupt..."

Fu Ye hung up, not wanting to hear the rambling. If the Yan family knew what was good for them, they'd come beg him. He'd indulged Yan Qingqiu long enough. It was time she learned a few things, got smart about how to please people.

"Drive!"

The driver was about to leave, then heard Fu Ye shout, "Wait a moment."

He still couldn't give up—wanted to see if Yan Qingqiu would come running back, if she was just putting on a tough act.

But the car ahead sprayed exhaust in their faces.

"Pull the funding. Pull it now!"

··

Song Qingre didn't just take Yan Qingqiu; she also had Su Xingjie get in the car. Su Xingjie was worried about Song Qingre, afraid she might do something to Yan Qingqiu.

Yan Qingqiu was now hit by the alcohol and starting to talk nonsense, her fingers picking at the seatbelt, muttering "I don't want to die" endlessly.

Song Qingre helped fasten her seatbelt, lowered the seat, and stroked her head to calm her. Su Xingjie wanted to help, but Song Qingre spoke first. "Miss Su, you're an omega, right? In the future, don't take an alpha with such a low alcohol tolerance out drinking again. If something happens, do you take care of her or yourself?"

Su Xingjie protested, "She used to hold her liquor."

Song Qingre didn't respond. When they neared Su Xingjie's home, she spoke again, her tone suddenly much gentler. "She never could hold her liquor. Don't give her alcohol next time."

Su Xingjie was confused, her head buzzing, feeling something was off. When they reached her complex and the car stopped, Su Xingjie got out and wanted to say something more to Yan Qingqiu, but Song Qingre had the secretary drive off directly.

The car drove far away, the wind blowing against her. Su Xingjie stood under the plane tree, hearing the rustle of leaves, feeling as if autumn had come early. Irritation rose in her. Oh, she remembered now—she was going to say it was because Yan Qingqiu saw Song Qingre drinking that she'd gotten the craving.

Sheng Huajian drove to the Yan family's gate. She was about to help, but Song Qingre said no need, told her to drive safely, and supported the woman inside.

The butler saw them return and hurried to the kitchen to have a hangover soup prepared.

Song Qingre said, "Uncle Dong, call Su Xingjie back and tell her she arrived safely."

"Ah, alright." The butler went to the living room to use the landline.

Song Qingre supported the woman upstairs. Yan Qingqiu kept her eyes half-closed, neither crying nor making a fuss, quietly following along, docile as a rabbit that let itself be touched. Occasionally she'd turn to stare at Song Qingre's profile.

Only her clothes were dirty—she'd thrown up a little in the car.

"Go to the bathroom first. Can you manage?" Song Qingre asked.

"Hot..." Yan Qingqiu's fever and the alcohol hit together. She felt unwell and tried to undress at the door. Song Qingre pushed her into the room, and Yan Qingqiu made a soft "Mm" sound, looking at her with clouded eyes. "Song Qingre... mm."

She felt like throwing up again.

Song Qingre hurried her into the bathroom. Yan Qingqiu bent over and vomited twice, her face pale. "So uncomfortable."

Song Qingre gave her mouthwash and carefully wiped her mouth. Yan Qingqiu tugged at her clothes twice, lost her balance, and began to fall to the floor. Her gaze glanced at the nearby bathtub, and her mind instinctively recalled the previous remedy. She crawled toward the bathtub on her knees, and when that felt too slow, she went on all fours.

Song Qingre reached out but couldn't help in time—she crawled very fast, with none of her earlier claim about having hard bones. She crawled into the tub, lifted her leg over, and asked, "Where's the water?"

The rabbit ran around lively and cute, unable to be caught.

Song Qingre walked over, rolled up her sleeves, turned on the tap, and water began to fill the tub. She adjusted it to warm, but Yan Qingqiu lunged for the showerhead, soaking her whole face. "Wahhh..." she whimpered, "Make it cooler..."

Her dress was soaked and clinging to her. Her red lips pouted as she gazed at Song Qingre with pleading eyes.

Song Qingre had to switch to cold water. Yan Qingqiu finally settled down. She slid back, continuously tilting backward, clearly trying to press the back of her neck against the white porcelain. The little rabbit was so comfortable her eyes narrowed.

Maybe because she wasn't being cautious like during the day, Song Qingre caught a faint scent of pheromones—indescribable, hard to name, a drifting tease that made Song Qingre's own gland heat up.

"Why does Qiu Qiu smell like an omega?" Song Qingre asked her, her voice gentle, sitting on the edge of the tub and splashing water over her.

Yan Qingqiu's heart felt soft. Her muddled mind seemed to recall something—long, long ago, she'd made a mistake and gotten into a fight. Many adults told her to apologize, but she refused. Someone even slapped her mouth, hurting her.

"Yan Qingqiu, why are you so stubborn! Apologize now!"

"Motherless child, so worthless!"

But she just wouldn't apologize. Until someone came over—tall, crouching in front of her, taking the hand she'd been hiding behind her back, gently blowing on her bleeding hand, and applying medicine to her wound.

"Little Qiu Qiu got hurt too, didn't she?"

The same warmth fell on her shoulder, tucking the golden hair that had fallen there behind her ear, a fingertip pressing inward.

"Tell me, okay?" That voice fell into her ear, coaxing her.

Yan Qingqiu, lying in the tub, stirred, her lips parting slightly. "Because... I'm..."

"You're what?"

Song Qingre leaned in to listen.

Yan Qingqiu's head hurt, buzzing, as if something were reminding her not to say it, then jabbed her. She parted her lips and said, "Because I'm a fierce alpha... who likes to mess around, likes to have people on both arms. That's why I smell like an omega."

Song Qingre paused, then smiled.

Her finger fell on Yan Qingqiu's lips. "Qiu Qiu, you're so stubborn."

Yan Qingqiu pressed her lips tight.

Song Qingre said, "If you say that, I'll get mad at you."

Her tone wasn't severe, but it scared Yan Qingqiu.

Yan Qingqiu looked at her and stopped rubbing against the tub. "Don't be mad..."

Her hair was soaked through, plastered to her cheeks.

But that certain someone seemed to be hard-mouthed all over—touch her and she melts. She slid deeper into the tub, so limp she could barely be scooped out.

"Oh... I understand. It's because you're a pervert."

Song Qingre nodded.

"Hot." Yan Qingqiu said.

"What's hot?"

"My mouth is always hot."

Song Qingre touched her lips again.

One second, two seconds. Their gazes met, and Song Qingre understood what she meant. Her fingers near the tub tapped the water, sending ripples outward. She didn't keep talking, sitting on the tub's edge like a frozen statue. Yan Qingqiu kept watching her, silently encouraging. Come on, lean in.

But Song Qingre didn't.

Yan Qingqiu kept looking at her, silly, with a dazed kind of cuteness, not knowing what to do. She let out a little whimper.

Song Qingre gazed at the face beneath the messy golden hair and closed her eyes.

"I'll get you clothes. Soaking too long is uncomfortable." Song Qingre stood and left. Yan Qingqiu immediately followed, water dripping from her body, but she didn't go into the bedroom—it was too clean, and she felt a bit dirty, not daring to step on the castle's luxurious carpet.

Song Qingre handed her clothes. "Can you dress yourself?"

Yan Qingqiu nodded. She could still dress herself.

Just then, the butler knocked. The hangover soup was ready.

Song Qingre closed the bathroom door and went to take the soup. The butler glanced inside, confirming Yan Qingqiu was safe inside—after all, when the young lady was drunk, many of her decisions weren't made rationally. If something happened, she might regret it tomorrow...

"Don't worry. Once she drinks this, I'll go back to sleep." Song Qingre saw the butler's concern.

"Good. Call me if you need anything."

After changing, Yan Qingqiu staggered back in. Seeing the bed, she knelt by it and pushed hard, pushing with all her might. Of course, the bed didn't budge.

"What are you doing?" Song Qingre held the soup, looking at her in confusion.

"Pushing the bed... I don't want it to hurt." Yan Qingqiu added, "I'm going to have my dad throw out all the beds in the castle. Throw them all out."

"Mm." Song Qingre sat on a chair. "Come here."

Tired from pushing, Yan Qingqiu walked over, sat cross-legged at Song Qingre's feet, tilted her head back, and parted her lips. Song Qingre fed her the soup.

"Pretty sweet." Yan Qingqiu said.

Song Qingre just hummed.

"Why aren't you talking?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

Song Qingre stirred the spoon gently, swirling the liquid. "Thinking about a lot of things from before."

"You look so sad." Yan Qingqiu said.

Song Qingre fed her again. Yan Qingqiu took the bowl and drank it herself. Finished, she handed it back, then went to push the bed again. When it wouldn't move, she rolled around on it, rolling over to Song Qingre's side. "Did I hurt you a lot before?"

Song Qingre didn't speak, sitting sideways on the bed.

Yan Qingqiu said softly, "I'm sorry."

Song Qingre's lashes trembled slightly. She raised a hand to touch her but, just before contact, saw Yan Qingqiu's eyes closing. "Sleep early." She patted Yan Qingqiu's shoulder.

Yan Qingqiu looked at her, not understanding why Song Qingre didn't lie down with her. Before, Song Qingre always snuck into her room.

But she couldn't think too much. Under the weight of the alcohol, Song Qingre's figure grew blurrier and blurrier. She thought, "I'm sad too."

Song Qingre lifted her eyes to her. Yan Qingqiu leaned over and kissed her arm. Song Qingre didn't understand her meaning. Yan Qingqiu's thin lips touched her again.

"Touch me." Yan Qingqiu looked at her and said.

Then she brushed aside her golden hair, revealing the small gland at the back of her neck, coaxing the person who seemed unhappy. "Kiss?"

The next day, Yan Qingqiu woke up. She'd basically blacked out. The moment she thought, a tearing pain shot through her head. She propped herself up, walking unsteadily, and even bumped her leg on the way to the door, her eyes squinting in pain.

"What did I say yesterday?" Yan Qingqiu was still dizzy, most things hazy, with only a vague, somewhat intimate impression.

It seemed like she'd done something very excessive.

She clenched a fist and pounded her shoulder twice.

Upstairs, she smelled sweet pear. When she tried to speak, her voice was extremely hoarse and somewhat sore.

Yan Qingqiu rubbed her neck and looked down, finding the source of the scent. Song Qingre was cooking in the small kitchen, wearing a clean white shirt with a black apron tied at her waist.

Because she wore fitted suit pants below, her hips looked very toned.

Did I bite her yesterday?

"Um, I... didn't do anything yesterday, did I?" Yan Qingqiu asked tentatively, clearing her throat—it was dry and itchy.

Song Qingre had her back to her, cooking pear soup. The water in the pot bubbled and boiled over. It was another sunny day, and the light fell on her shoulder.

Yan Qingqiu thought her voice was too soft for Song Qingre to hear. She held the railing and started down, but Song Qingre lifted her head slightly, her gaze seemingly fixed on the window, still with her back to her, her voice warm and soft as she said, "Nothing much, really. Just that you forced me to kiss you."

"Oh, and yesterday you said you're actually an omega."