Chapter 21

Yan Qingqiu was warning her in all seriousness, not joking around. That slap from Song Qingre had hurt, and if she got hit again, she would absolutely tell Father Yan without hesitation, so her dad could deal with her.

But she never expected Song Qingre to go even further. Song Qingre grabbed her hand directly, used her other arm to protect her stomach, and lifted her up like a chick before tossing her onto the bed. Once Yan Qingqiu landed on the bed, a wave of pheromones crashed over her.

She had plenty of energy a second ago, and immediately tried to flip over—but then the back of her neck touched the pillow, and her body instinctively reacted. Her legs went weak. The woman who had been full of strength a moment before lost her footing and fell heavily from the bed to the floor.

Yan Qingqiu squinted, trying to push herself up with her elbows, but she didn't have the strength and collapsed again. Still, she gritted her teeth and got to her feet, feeling indignant. If it weren't for her omega constitution and this heat cycle, she could take Song Qingre down directly.

Omega bodies were way too soft!

Song Qingre saw what happened and worried she'd gotten hurt. She quickly came around from the other side of the bed, crouched down to look at her, and rubbed her knee with her fingers. “Stop struggling. Aren't you afraid someone will discover... discover your Alpha identity, and think you're too A, and get ideas about you?”

Yan Qingqiu looked up at her suspiciously. Hearing those words come out of her mouth was practically unbelievable. She felt like Song Qingre wasn't quite right in the head, but she wasn't stupid, so she took the out that was offered.

Song Qingre blew on her knee again. “Does it still hurt?”

Her leg was soft and numb, and her skin felt like it was burning.

Yan Qingqiu pulled her leg back, but the alpha's pheromones around her were too strong. She couldn't help kicking at Song Qingre, who was quick and grabbed her leg.

“Don't mess around. If I kick you back, you'll be rolling on the floor a few times.”

Yan Qingqiu was about to curse her out, but thinking about her strength, she held back.

She looked up and stole a glance at Song Qingre. Song Qingre had one knee on the ground, the other leg braced under her arm—a perfect single-knee kneel.

Her lashes fluttered, light as butterfly wings.

When their eyes met, the sense of intrusion was intense, proportional to her gentleness. The tender way she looked was matched exactly by how sinister she could be.

Yan Qingqiu instinctively backed away, but Song Qingre used a bit of finesse to hold her down. She said quietly, “Move again, and I'll tie you up and toss you on the bed.”

“You—” Yan Qingqiu wanted to move but didn't dare. Her skin was getting sensitive from the touch. She braced her fingers on the floor and tried to edge backward. Song Qingre wasn't just making an empty threat—she pulled a hair tie from the nightstand and bound her hands. “I really will do it.”

Yan Qingqiu seized the chance to kick her again, acting tough. She threatened, “You can't do this. What if someone sees? You tie me up, and someone comes and does something to me—I won't be able to fight back... You'll be dead.”

“It's fine. I'll stay by your side watching over you.” Song Qingre tied her up securely and held her still.

Song Qingre tilted her head, guiding her to look at the balcony. An easel stood there. Song Qingre leaned forward and brushed her fingers across Yan Qingqiu's cheek. “Behave now, or I'll tie you to the bed and paint you.”

The threat worked. The defiance that had bristled all over her immediately deflated.

Song Qingre's gentleness was like a calm lake—clear and shallow on the surface, but you never knew if you'd step into mud or get your foot cut open by sharp stones.

Song Qingre stood up again and offered her hand, meaning to help her up. Yan Qingqiu didn't take it. She stayed on the floor, stubbornly protesting. She twisted her wrist and undid the hair tie, then yanked it hard. Unfortunately, it didn't break and snapped back, stinging the back of her hand.

During this, Yan Qingqiu's phone rang. The screen showed Su Xingjie was calling. Her eyes darted around, gauging Song Qingre's expression.

Song Qingre said generously, “Go ahead. It's fine.”

Yan Qingqiu wasn't stupid. Picking up would be the problem. If Su Xingjie asked where she was, how would she answer?

She hung up decisively, then adjusted her skirt. She felt that certain spot getting warm again, severely uncomfortable. “I want to go back.”

To Song Qingre's ears, that meant “I want to go see Su Xingjie.” Song Qingre's blinking slowed, like she was staring dead at her. She said, "Qiu Qiu, actually, I've always wondered since then—why is it that Su Xingjie can be so close with you, and you can play with her, but you hate me so much..."

Yan Qingqiu froze. Her toes pressed against the dark wooden floor. She wasn't sure why Song Qingre suddenly asked that, but she also couldn't explain it. “She" shouldn't know that Song Qingre was the female lead, right?

Why was she targeted by Song Qingre? She'd even burned the paintings Song Qingre had painstakingly worked on. Forget Song Qingre holding a grudge—even she thought it was too much.

Was it because one was a female lead and one was a supporting character, and their energies just didn't mesh?

Or was it the game mechanics—was the supporting character forced to go through quests?

Thinking about it that deeply made her soul tremble.

Yan Qingqiu racked her brain from a different angle, and she actually came up with something. She said, "Because back then I was blind and liked Fu Ye, but Fu Ye liked you, so I hated you. I was young and took it out on you—isn't that normal?"

As she spoke, she observed Song Qingre. Song Qingre sat on the edge of the bed, shoes on the floor, bending slightly to look at her, her face completely unreadable. Yan Qingqiu felt like she could see right through her...

Yan Qingqiu couldn't even finish her own words and didn't dare to meet her eyes.

Song Qingre said, "Qiu Qiu, you've been lying from that moment on."

Yan Qingqiu choked, not understanding the cryptic message.

But a chill ran down her spine... Did I slip up?

However, Song Qingre suddenly became magnanimous. "Say you're sorry right now, and I'll let you go."

It sounded simple, but it was extraordinarily hard for Yan Qingqiu. She bit her lip. "Why should I? I didn't do anything wrong. You're the freak who locked me up."

Song Qingre had her completely figured out. "Then there's nothing I can do. I can't let you go. But I'll make an exception—you can rest in my bed for a while."

"I'm a decent person. Who's going into your bed?" Yan Qingqiu wasn't falling for it. The bed was where the pheromones were most concentrated. If she climbed into Song Qingre's bed, she'd probably get up there fine, but getting down would require someone carrying her out.

Song Qingre stood up and brought a chair over next to her. "Don't sit on the floor. You'll ruin that white dress of yours, and then how will you greet your father later?"

Song Qingre deliberately scared her.

Given Yan Qingqiu's stubborn mouth, she could have said, "You haven't even told Father on me yet," but she just glanced at Song Qingre. Song Qingre saw she wouldn't take the chair but didn't force her either. She went and grabbed a soft cushion for her to sit on.

Once that was done, Song Qingre closed the door and went out. Yan Qingqiu couldn't be bothered to bang on it—she wouldn't stoop to something so embarrassing. She stood up and surveyed the room, deciding to search it. Maybe she could find clues to advance the plot.

If Song Qingre was going to lock her up, then too bad.

Song Qingre usually cleaned her own room. The maids only helped wash the sheets and mop the floor—they didn't touch anything else.

The room was simple, leaving little behind.

The bookshelf was mostly filled with art books. Yan Qingqiu flipped through a few, then peeked into Song Qingre's wardrobe. She didn't dare rummage too much, afraid she wouldn't be able to put everything back. Finally, she opened the drawers and found a box inside.

It looked like one of those boxes that used to hold White Rabbit candy. She sat cross-legged on the floor and opened it. Inside were lots of cards with childish handwriting. She found a pen and scratch paper on the desk, lay on the floor, and wrote two characters to compare.

The handwriting was very similar.

The cards had yellowed with age and would crumble if handled too hard. They were all holiday well-wishes: 【Mid-Autumn Festival greetings! Miss Song, remember to come to my house and make mooncakes for me. Wishing Song Qingre happiness every day, and may you be even prettier than Chang'e!】

【Happy birthday, happy Valentine's Day! Double holiday, double happiness. May all the luck in the world fall upon you. Please spend Valentine's Day with me! I love you. Muah muah muah~】

【My math isn't great, but I can say 520. My English isn't great, but I can say I love you. My history isn't great, but I want to say this emperor will conquer the world for you, and from three thousand beauties, I'll only drink from one cup. My Chinese isn't great, but I can say: "I love you like a mouse loves rice." My geography isn't great, but my heart is entirely your colony!】

There were also some torn scraps of paper with ragged edges. No matter how hard the collector had tried to smooth them out, the wrinkles and creases were impossible to erase.

【Can you bring me along to your high school field trip? I'll just stay in your tent, I won't go out. I'm ordering you. You're not allowed to refuse.】

【Tomorrow at 8:30, I'm climbing over the wall to your house. We'll go watch a movie together, and then you can take me to try fugu. I want to eat that thing again.】

Some cards had no date, but they were all signed with bold, free-spirited words: "Qiu'er~"

··

Song Qingre went out for a while. She took several phone calls. Around noon, she went to ask the doctor about Yan Qingqiu's gland. The doctor was tight-lipped and told her nothing.

The butler asked, "What's going on? What's wrong with the Miss's gland?"

Song Qingre spoke in riddles. "Wait for the report."

Wherever Song Qingre went, there was a pair of eyes watching her. Su Xingjie sat in the living room, her gaze never stopping. Wherever Song Qingre went, Su Xingjie's eyes followed.

After taking care of things, she brought up some iced fruit. She'd expected Yan Qingqiu to have run back to her own room, but instead, Yan Qingqiu was still lying on the floor—asleep. She'd just rolled from the left side to the right. Her breathing was even, her forehead slightly damp with a thin layer of sweat. One leg was raised and bent, an arm tucked under the pillow as a cushion. Her skirt had ridden up almost to her waist, maybe from her own grabbing, leaving both legs bare.

Song Qingre paused at the door for half a minute, then closed it behind her, crouched down, and patted her shoulder. Yan Qingqiu didn't stir. Song Qingre reached out to pick her up, but Yan Qingqiu was still asleep and turned over, now face up.

She was breathing, hot and heavy.

Song Qingre had researched it. Secondary differentiation was extremely hard to endure. Most people would find an alpha to mark them early on, losing their minds and begging someone to treat them like an animal.

But this one was stubborn. Anyone else would have gone as soft as water. She'd actually held out until maturity.

Soft and hard at once.

When Song Qingre picked her up again, something felt off. She squeezed her thigh and glanced down. Now she knew why Yan Qingqiu had been so desperate to go back—she was soaked through...

"Sorry, I didn't notice." Song Qingre smoothed the stray hair from her face behind her ear, her fingers lightly tracing the contours of her cheek over and over, moving gently, afraid of hurting her.

Stray strands stuck to her cheek. Light and shadow fell across her face.

Her fingers nearly touched her lips, just a millimeter away.

Yan Qingqiu mumbled something in her sleep, her face flushed from the sun. She rolled over, turning her back to Song Qingre, and kept sleeping.

Song Qingre couldn't look anymore. She stood up and saw a strawberry hair tie looped around Yan Qingqiu's fingers.

She stared at it for a long time, then looked out the window. They say when you dream of a window, the window will show a twisted version of another dimension.

The rectangular window wasn't even slightly skewed.

Song Qingre came out and closed the door. She said to the butler, "She fell asleep. Probably worried about Uncle all day yesterday."

"Miss Su is still downstairs waiting for her."

"I'll go talk to her." Song Qingre went downstairs and sat on the sofa beside Su Xingjie. Because her legs were long and partly hidden by the coffee table, she spread them slightly. "...Qiu Qiu fell asleep in my room. If you want to keep playing here, I'll arrange a room for you, and you can take a nap."

"She fell asleep in your room?" Su Xingjie caught the key word and was shocked. "Why did she fall asleep in your room?"

Song Qingre gave no answer.

But Su Xingjie was having an existential crisis. She looked up at the second floor, getting up to go check. Song Qingre added, "Maybe my room smells nice. When she wakes up, you can ask her."

Su Xingjie wasn't stupid either. It was probably Song Qingre who had locked Yan Qingqiu in there, and Yan Qingqiu was too prideful. If she went to ask directly, Yan Qingqiu would definitely get angry.

"She didn't sleep well last night. If you disturb her now, she'll be embarrassed and upset when she wakes up. It'll make her miserable." Song Qingre's tone was gentle, her attitude puzzling.

Logically, both of them were guests, but there was a clear hierarchy. In this house, Su Xingjie felt like she was the only guest.

Back in school, Su Xingjie hadn't disliked Song Qingre that much. Song Qingre often brought her and Yan Qingqiu along to play, and sometimes when she bought candy, she'd buy an extra one for her.

It changed later. She, too, was affected by Yan Qingqiu's attitude shift, and they all started looking at each other sideways.

Sometimes Su Xingjie felt regret. Adulthood was like a dividing line, drawing a line between childhood affection and adult rationality. They'd all crossed that line, but everyone had changed at the fork in the road.

Song Qingre went abroad, but she was like a stake, a road sign, forever planted in front of Yan Qingqiu, making Yan Qingqiu more and more disgusted by her.

That regret had accumulated over the years. Yan Qingqiu's attitude never changed, and Su Xingjie felt grateful she was better off than Song Qingre. At least she could still be friends with Yan Qingqiu.

Upstairs, Yan Qingqiu slept for an hour. She woke up not long after Song Qingre left. She was drenched in sweat, but she'd slept wonderfully, like she'd been soaking in fruit juice. She lifted her arm and sniffed. All of her smelled like citrus. It was lovely.

She felt really comfortable, her body soft.

From the inside out, like she'd been caressed. Satisfied.

She got up and didn't see Song Qingre, so she warily snuck over and pushed the door. If she was still locked in... oh, it opened right away.

She closed the door again and crept toward her own room.

Once inside, she let out a long breath. She tugged at her clothes and rushed into the bathroom to run a bath.

While changing her underwear, she replayed the day's events. Really, she'd almost messed up. Good thing only her pants were soaked—her cover was still intact!

··

At noon, the medical team stayed for lunch. Since Father Yan hadn't returned yet, Yan Qingqiu took the seat at the head of the table. She politely welcomed everyone to eat, but she didn't dare eat much herself—just a little porridge. Dr. Qiao, who had examined her gland, sat close to her. Every time the doctor looked at her, it seemed like she had something to say.

After the meal, the household staff cleaned up. Dr. Qiao was leaving, but she came back specifically, lowering her voice to urge, "Make sure you add my number. I'll notify you for a follow-up. Take it seriously."

Yan Qingqiu was afraid others would hear, so she nodded vigorously. "Thank you, doctor."

Su Xingjie came over and wanted to ask Yan Qingqiu what was going on. Just as she was about to speak, the landline in the living room rang. The butler picked it up, said a few words, then smiled and told Yan Qingqiu, "Miss, the master is on his way back. His plane lands in half an hour."

Yan Qingqiu was silent for half a minute, her fingers crumpling her skirt. Her voice softened. She asked, "Should I go pick him up?"

"I'll prepare the car." the butler said.

Yan Qingqiu stood at the door and stepped back, blinking at Su Xingjie. She had her look over carefully, taking several steps back to make sure she saw properly. "Do I look good today? Formal enough?"

At one in the afternoon, the hottest time of day, her golden hair gleamed almost blindingly. Her hair was braided, with a soft curl left by her temple. Su Xingjie adjusted it for her, sighing at how pale she was.

She also smelled fragrant.

This time she'd changed into a silver slip dress with thin straps, pure and sultry, with tiny bow ties on the shoulders, shimmering sequins on the skirt, and lace cutouts at the hem. It looked both A and alluring.

"Pretty. But Qiu Bao, did your chest get bigger?"

Su Xingjie's eyes were a ruler, measuring her directly.

That one sentence knocked Yan Qingqiu out. I've been hiding it so carefully—I fooled the doctor, but you found me out by my body measurements.

"Maybe this dress just makes my chest look bigger." Yan Qingqiu frowned too. Her clothes were indeed getting tight around the chest.

Of course, saying that to someone who worked in fashion and had made it all the way to creative director was like saying outright, "Look, I'm messing with you."

Luckily, they didn't talk for long before the driver pulled the car around. He opened the door and asked, "Is Miss Su coming along?"

Su Xingjie usually hung around here, and Yan Fu knew her too. She could stay for a meal, but her company had an issue—one of the models borrowed from abroad was having trouble, so she had to get back early to deal with it. Su Xingjie shook her head regretfully. "We'll see. I need to settle some work matters first."

Yan Qingqiu whispered seriously in her ear, "Make sure you come tomorrow. My dad comes back tomorrow."

Su Xingjie nodded. "You got it."

When she left, Su Xingjie glanced at her chest. Her omega instincts were sharp. Yan Qingqiu now looked a lot like her when she'd just differentiated—her chest changing by the day, unconsciously radiating an aura of "come pick me."

Seductive as she was, there was also a certain spine in her.

It made you want to break her back.

What was stranger was Yan Qingqiu's attitude. In the past, Yan Qingqiu always used to complain to her, saying her dad was an obstacle to her pursuit of love, calling him "old man" and "that geezer." Now she not only took her dad seriously, she was afraid of him.

When they were young, she'd just said what her friends said, and she got used to that kind of talk. Now that they were adults, hearing the sudden change in address, rationality told Su Xingjie something was off... but where exactly was the problem?

··

Yan Qingqiu grabbed her bag and got into the van. Song Qingre didn't follow; she stood at the door watching. The back seat was too empty with just Yan Qingqiu, and she was nervous, so she wanted someone to keep her company.

She pulled the door open and crooked her finger at her. "Come on up."

Song Qingre paused briefly, then walked over and bent to get in. She sat in the empty seat next to Yan Qingqiu and asked, "Why did you suddenly want me to come along?"

The door closed, shutting out the hot, stuffy air outside.

Yan Qingqiu said, "What if my dad hits me?"

Song Qingre laughed. "Uncle's been traveling all day. He's exhausted. How could he hit you? But don't worry. I'm here."

Yan Qingqiu turned to look out the window, fingers tightly gripping the fabric of her skirt. A moment later, she heard Song Qingre's soft voice. "Don't be scared."

The weather was scorching, leaves drooping limply. Several sprinkler trucks passed on the road. Yan Qingqiu looked out the window but couldn't see any beautiful scenery.

The car radio said it might rain tomorrow.

The butler said, "It hasn't rained all month. Hopefully tomorrow will bring some. Though I don't know if the forecast is reliable."

"Don't worry. It'll rain. If it won't come down on its own, they'll do cloud seeding." Song Qingre said.

They hit a little traffic on the way. The car stopped at the airport entrance. People were flowing in and out, traffic was dense. The driver weaved around and parked at the VIP exit, then checked his watch to wait.

Fifteen minutes later, the butler's phone rang.

Yan Qingqiu was so nervous she'd been crumpling her skirt fabric, her fingers sweating, the back of her neck starting to ache. She regretted not wearing shorts so she could stuff her hands in her pockets. Just as she was thinking that, her wrist was grasped. She turned to look at Song Qingre. Song Qingre tilted her chin up, signaling her to look.

Then Yan Qingqiu saw Father Yan.

There were very few photos of Yan Fu in the house. His room was usually locked, and she hadn't dared sneak in, so she'd only searched for info online.

Yan Fu was still handsome in middle age. He wore a crisp black suit, silver glasses on his nose. His eyebrows were drawn together from the long trip, making him look stern and intense.

Yan Fu's gaze swept over, and when he saw Song Qingre, his expression relaxed a little. But when his eyes found Yan Qingqiu, they deepened. Yan Qingqiu's heart raced. Being looked at so piercingly made her uncomfortable, and she instinctively wanted to hide.

Song Qingre stepped up, called him Uncle, and strategically blocked her. Yan Qingqiu kept her head down behind her. Yan Fu smiled. "Thanks for coming to pick me up, Little Re."

Yan Qingqiu tried to open her mouth, but it was like she'd lost the strength. She couldn't get the words out, her teeth pressing hard against her lower lip.

Yan Fu took his gaze off her and said nothing.

The butler helped with the luggage. Song Qingre took the briefcase and looked over at Yan Qingqiu. "You want to carry it?"

Yan Qingqiu hummed and grabbed the bag.

The luggage was supposed to go in the trunk, but the butler let her hold it since she was gripping it so tight. When she got in the car, she clutched the briefcase, her own bag slung crossbody at her waist.

After standing outside for a bit, she was drenched in sweat.

Song Qingre called to her. "Come on, get in."

They took the same car. Yan Qingqiu sat in the back holding the bag. With everyone together, it was nowhere near as relaxed as the ride there. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense.

Her whole body felt off.

She wanted to speak but didn't dare.

During her nap, she'd had a brief dream—her father had come home, and she was so proud, making her dad beat Song Qingre up.

Just as they were about to drive off, a man in a suit tapped on the window. Yan Fu pushed the door open, and the man said something in a low voice.

Even though his voice was muffled, Yan Qingqiu caught a few words. Something about Fu Ye's company sending someone to talk to Yan Fu. Yan Qingqiu turned to look, but there were too many cars at the airport, and she couldn't spot which one was Fu Ye's.

When she came back to herself, she saw Yan Fu was also looking back. Their eyes met, and the expression on Yan Fu's face was practically black with fury. Yan Qingqiu was so scared she could barely breathe: He doesn't think I'm looking for Fu Ye, does he?

She wanted to quickly add, Who's looking at him? Disgusting!

She'd been so brave before, but now she couldn't even get the words out.

She dropped her head. Her nose stung a little. She couldn't say what was wrong.

Yan Fu spoke, his voice cold. "Screw it. Drive. We're going home."

He lowered his seat and closed his eyes to rest.

Song Qingre said quietly to her, "You've been nervous waiting all day. Uncle's just resting. What are you worried about?"

Her comfort made Yan Qingqiu feel much better. She thought, Father Yan must have heard. He must know I was waiting for him to come home, right?

She couldn't control her eyes—she kept looking forward. There was no response from the front, so she pulled her gaze back and just wished they'd get home soon.

Yan Fu must have been exhausted. By the time they arrived, everyone else had gotten out, and he was still asleep. The butler had the luggage taken inside.

He gently patted Yan Fu's shoulder. "Sir, we're here. Maybe go to your room and sleep."

"Mm, alright." Yan Fu nodded. He opened his eyes, bloodshot, and nearly stumbled when he got out. Yan Qingqiu stepped forward to help, then slowly shuffled back. Well, she still didn't quite dare.

"Is the master hungry?" the butler asked.

Yan Fu shook his head. He was drained and just wanted to sleep.

Yan Qingqiu had been planning to show off her cooking that night. She felt a pang of disappointment and took a deep breath. She hugged the briefcase tighter.

Yan Fu finally looked at her. "The briefcase."

Yan Qingqiu, startled, stared back wide-eyed. She handed the briefcase to him, her throat too clogged to speak.

Yan Fu came over to take the bag, standing right in front of her. She heard him let out a heavy sigh through his nose. Then he went into the living room and straight up the stairs, not even giving the butler a chance to get a word in.

The butler wanted to comfort Yan Qingqiu. She shook her head, saying she was fine.

When she went inside, she realized Song Qingre had been holding her wrist the whole time.

Her breathing came in ragged bursts. Her body was hot, her mood heavy and low.

Yan Qingqiu did nothing that afternoon. She sat in the living room chatting with Su Xingjie over text, but mostly she kept glancing upstairs. Yan Fu hadn't come back down at all. He didn't even eat dinner. He just kept sleeping.

The butler noticed Yan Qingqiu's low spirits and came over to comfort her. "It's fine. He'll come around tomorrow. The company's been too busy. The master hasn't had time to catch his breath."

Yan Qingqiu nodded. "I know."

But at night, her heart still felt clogged. She held her phone, looking at the message she'd sent yesterday that hadn't been answered. She didn't know if Father Yan had even seen it.

As she stared, a message came in.

It was from Song Qingre: 【Go to sleep early. Uncle's just tired. If you don't believe me, get up early tomorrow and see.】

Yan Qingqiu was used to bickering with her, and this tone felt off. But Song Qingre's words were trustworthy. She lay on her stomach, chin on the pillow, and typed seriously: 【Are you sure?】

Song Qingre: 【Absolutely sure. But if you sleep in and look sloppy, your dad will be angry. And you'll undo all the good work you did today.】

Her brain sent her a message: She complimented me. For real this time!

Yan Qingqiu was about to type "I don't believe you" when the other side replied again: 【Even though you didn't want to do the checkup, you obediently did it without stalling.】

Yan Qingqiu nodded. Yes!

But somehow, she felt a little sad.

Yan Qingqiu: 【He didn't reply to my message yesterday.】

Song Qingre: 【Uncle was busy packing. He was running back and forth between the company and the lab, and the trip back was thirteen hours. The only people relaying messages were his secretaries. Uncle's phone hasn't even been turned on. How could he see it?】

Yan Qingqiu understood all that, but she couldn't help being afraid, being anxious. Having someone tell her it was normal made her feel a lot better.

Song Qingre: 【Go to sleep.】

Yan Qingqiu pushed down her anxiety and rolled over, trying to sleep.

Now that Father Yan was home, she felt a sense of restraint. When he wasn't around, she could run wild—the monkey rules when the tiger's away. Now that the real master was back, she'd become an outsider.

Like she was just lodging here, a guest who wasn't used to being at someone else's house, having to act polite and proper.

Half an hour later, another message came: 【Weren't you going to tell your dad that I hit you? If you don't rest early, how will you have the energy to tattle?】

Yan Qingqiu clutched her phone. She couldn't even muster the anger. She bit her lip. At least her heart didn't feel so tight anymore. She hugged her pillow and sniffed it, thinking it didn't smell as good as Song Qingre's. She loved the scent of citrus.

That night, she didn't lie awake. She slept fairly well. When she woke up, the first thing she did was check the doctor's message. After changing her clothes, she heard a knock at the door.

The butler called softly, "Miss, it's time to make breakfast."

"Okay, coming." Yan Qingqiu padded quietly downstairs. She was a kid who'd learned to fend for herself early—she'd learned to cook from the orphanage aunties as a kid. But the orphanage only had limited ingredients, so all she'd learned was a big pot of whatever's on hand.

Later, when she got a job and rented a one-room apartment, she'd only ever cooked noodles and porridge. She'd never touched anything too fancy. Her cooking level was zero.

Yan Qingqiu took the apron in the kitchen and was about to tie it on. She was just reaching for the shrimp when Song Qingre came over and said gently, "Miss Yan, let me handle this rough work."

"It's not like I can't do it." Yan Qingqiu rolled her eyes and grabbed a shrimp, deboning it more skillfully than Song Qingre. She held it up for her to see.

Song Qingre glanced at it, said nothing, and watched her movements in silence.

The butler came over, surprised. "Miss, how do you know how to do this? You don't have to actually do it. We can handle it."

"It's just a shrimp." Yan Qingqiu thought it was ridiculous. Did a spoiled young lady not even know how to devein a shrimp? Her simple, barren life had just been dealt a blow.

But it made sense. If she'd been born into wealth, she probably wouldn't even bother to put on clothes. What could she do? Her twenty years had all been hard times.

Since she was already doing it, she stopped being shy. "Don't make a fuss. I'll do it myself. Too many people crowding in is affecting my performance!"

She kept her head down, shelling shrimp and taking out the veins. The head chef stared, dumbfounded. The Miss was so skilled, like she'd worked professionally in a restaurant. This was the same picky princess who'd complain that the porridge wasn't soft enough...

The butler sighed. "I don't know why, but seeing the Miss so skilled at this breaks my heart a little." He'd watched her grow up, and he always believed their young lady should be pampered. If she didn't know, she didn't know.

The little princess of the house should be adored and held in the palm of everyone's hand.

Song Qingre stepped out and asked him, "Has Uncle woken up?"

"He's been up for a while, on the phone in his study. Once the food's ready, I'll go get him." said the butler. "A surprise needs to be surprising."

Breakfast took forty minutes. Steamed egg with shrimp, congee, and dumplings—all made by Yan Qingqiu. When she was done, she sighed to herself. She thought she'd be tackling complex dishes, but all this simple stuff, she knew how to do it. Pfft.

The butler went upstairs to call him. Yan Fu came down quickly, but his brow was furrowed. He really was busy—he still had his laptop in hand. He sat at the table, eating while looking at it.

The butler asked, "How is it?"

"It's fine, not bad." Yan Fu said offhandedly.

"The Miss made it." said the butler.

Yan Fu didn't notice at first. He tapped his keyboard, then it hit him and he looked toward Yan Qingqiu. He took another bite, and the taste was indeed good. He found it unbelievable. "She can cook this?"

"Yes. She secretly learned it for you. We tried to help this morning, but she wouldn't let us touch it." The butler looked at Song Qingre. "If you don't believe me, ask Miss Song."

Song Qingre nodded. "Very skilled. Better than me. She must have practiced a lot in secret to avoid messing up."

Yan Qingqiu stood there stiffly. This time she was wearing pants, hands shoved in her pockets, silent like she was waiting to be inspected.

Yan Fu's heart ached. He stopped looking at the laptop and took a few more bites. Then he told the butler, "Go bring down the suitcase from my room."

The butler was quick, bringing it down in minutes.

"A gift." Yan Fu looked at Yan Qingqiu, his tone gentle. "For you."

Yan Qingqiu still got flustered when their eyes met. She took small steps up and accepted it. "Thank you, Dad."

The box she was given was quite heavy. She couldn't help smiling, standing there holding the suitcase. Yan Fu was baffled. Yan Qingqiu asked in a small voice, "Can I open it?"

"Hm?" Yan Fu was stunned. Something felt off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He nodded.

Yan Qingqiu carried the box and backed away, then scooted to the stairs before dashing up in a flash, abandoning all pretense of grace. She sat on her bedroom floor and started tearing into it, ripping the wrapping paper off with no technique at all.

There were lots of things inside. Perfume—she smelled it. Dad had great taste. The scent suited her perfectly.

She pulled out a necklace, a pair of golden ingot earrings, all shiny. Father Yan really had her preferences down. So pretty. She put them on right away.

There was also a little crown hair clip. Yan Qingqiu put that on too. In the box were all sorts of little trinkets—like a red matryoshka doll. The biggest one opened to a medium one, the medium to a small one, and the smallest one contained a piece of candy.

Downstairs, Yan Fu still couldn't figure out what was off. He looked at the butler and asked, "Has the Miss's medical report come back?"

"It's here. I'll send it to your email." The butler hadn't read it yet either. He opened his email and forwarded it to Yan Fu.

Upstairs, Yan Qingqiu had no idea.

Of course, the doctor wouldn't send the report to Song Qingre. But the hospital would definitely send it to Yan Fu, since Yan Fu had hired the doctor. The doctor had to give him a summary. Nothing could go wrong.

Yan Fu adjusted his glasses and read carefully. The more he read, the more shocked he became. He pulled the laptop closer. The gland report said: Secondary development, 89% probability of differentiating into SSS-level Omega.

Yan Fu was startled. He asked the butler, "Does the Miss know?"

The butler was still reading, his brows knit. He had no idea.

Song Qingre had been standing nearby the whole time. She said calmly, "She knows. And she doesn't want anyone to know."

Even though his daughter was disobedient and often drove him to his wit's end, Yan Fu only had one daughter.

On one hand, he had to protect her pride. On the other, he had to worry about her safety.

Yan Fu looked at Song Qingre and said, "This... is serious too. It's probably a big blow for her. For now, let's all pretend we don't know. If she wants to think she's an A, let her. If we expose her, and she can't handle it, what then? Going from Alpha to Omega, she must be struggling with it mentally."

"Yes, the Miss likes to call herself a tough A." The butler regretted it as he spoke. He should have noticed something was off with the Miss long ago. She'd never said that every day before. It must be because she was anxious, trying to satisfy her self-esteem.

Thinking about how he recorded everything every day but was still less attentive than Song Qingre, he really was unqualified.

The chef came in with a menu. "Sir, is it okay if we eat this for the next few days?"

Yan Fu glanced at it and vetoed it. "The Miss can't eat this. It's too stimulating. Change it."

The Yan family had never had an Omega, but he knew that when an Omega was differentiating, you had to be careful. There were things you couldn't eat.

Yan Fu was furious. He said sternly, "Dong Shu, the Miss is almost done differentiating, and you didn't notice at all. Good thing Little Re was watching out."

The butler also felt he'd failed. He admitted his mistake. "Sorry, sir. Because I'm a beta, and it's a sensitive topic for a young woman, I was too cautious. I can find a physiology teacher to help the Miss."

Yan Fu said, "She's delicate, and she has a temper. We need to bring in more doctors. We need to correct this as soon as possible. A lot of our rough habits at home need to change."

"Mm."

As he spoke, the person who'd gone upstairs to open her gifts came down.

Yan Qingqiu had put on all the things before coming down. Yan Fu was on the phone with the doctor, his tone heavy. When he saw her, his voice softened.

It felt like when she was little. He was always busy, flying all over, with no time to spend with Yan Qingqiu. The only way he could make up for it was to give her gifts. Afraid she'd get tired of them, he'd always put extra thought into finding unique little trinkets.

Every time, his daughter would wear all of them and run next door to show off, happily telling others, "See? My dad loves me after all."

And no matter where she was, she was always lively and energetic. She would act cute in front of him, and no matter how old she got, her "Dad" was always sweet.

Yan Fu cut the call short and hung up. Seeing Yan Qingqiu, he said, "Just like when you were little."

When Yan Qingqiu heard that, she walked over in front of Song Qingre and spun around, showing off her father's love. Then, remembering that Song Qingre's parents were dead, she only showed off for a moment before quietly walking back.

Song Qingre hummed in agreement.

Yan Qingqiu thought, It's not like when I was little.

When she was little, she'd lived in an orphanage. There were always aunts and uncles who wanted to adopt her, and they'd bring clothes and snacks. But those clothes and snacks always got shared with the other kids.

So... none of it was truly hers.

Maybe because she was young, she had a bit of selfishness in her nature. She never really liked those aunts and uncles. When it came time to choose, she was never as obedient as the other kids. She kept shaking her head, kept backing away. As she got older, no one was willing to adopt her.

Sometimes she envied the adopted kids, thinking they had new families and better lives—pretty clothes, little shoes, hair ties they could wear like bracelets, and parents who doted on them.

Envy was envy. But when someone actually reached out a hand to her, she'd still shake her head.

When she grew up, the orphanage closed down. Sad to say, with the orphanage gone and her alone, she was truly alone in the world.

Yan Qingqiu came back to the table and said bluntly, "Thank you, Dad. I love it!"

After Yan Fu nodded, she sat down smugly on a nearby chair, fiddling with her phone for selfies, ready to post on her social media to show off her gifts.

She didn't notice anything unusual. Yan Fu had created a group chat.

He added everyone in the household except Yan Qingqiu. Because the situation was serious, he made a brief but important announcement in the group: 【@All members, remember: My daughter is highly likely to differentiate into an SSS-level Omega. From now on, all meals must change. Seafood is completely banned—she can't have it anymore. Head chef, you and the nutritionist coordinate on a new menu. The housemaids, make sure the Miss's room is cleaned frequently, and change the sheets to the softest, most skin-friendly ones. The gardener, clean up the courtyard a few times today. Some plants and flowers can't be grown anymore.】

The butler added on his phone: 【I'll personally inspect. Also, the Miss's temper will get worse recently. Please all be understanding, and raise your tolerance!】

All members: 【Received!!!!】

That morning, the entire Yan household was in a frenzy, and now they all knew.

Their young lady was about to undergo secondary differentiation—into a super-rare, super-fragile, must-be-loved-and-cared-for, delicate and soft SSS-level Omega!

Yan Fu, doting father that he was, still couldn't help worrying after doing all that.

If he weren't so busy, Yan Fu would have wanted to tell the neighbors: Young daughter about to undergo secondary differentiation. Please keep all random Alphas away. Thank you for your cooperation.

Yan Fu took a breath, typed, and said earnestly, 【Don't expose her. Let her keep pretending. After this, she won't get another chance.】

They discussed for a while before Song Qingre gave her opinion. She said, 【I noticed something was off earlier, but she was embarrassed, and she had her pride. She didn't want to admit she was undergoing secondary differentiation, so I never exposed her. Uncle, leave her to me. I won't let her suffer.】

Yan Fu trusted Song Qingre a lot. Over the years, if it weren't for Song Qingre stopping her, his useless daughter would have sold herself to Fu Ye. With Song Qingre around, Fu Ye couldn't get near his daughter—or more precisely, she couldn't get near Fu Ye.

The butler and Yan Fu nodded. They thought Song Qingre was attentive, so it was doable.

Yan Fu: 【Troubling you, Little Re.】

The butler: 【Thank you, Miss Song.】

The head chef: 【Thank you, Miss Song.】

Others: 【Thank you, Miss Song!】

Yan Qingqiu saw them all looking at their phones. She secretly angled her phone at her dad, who was hard at work, and snapped a picture of him. After posting to her social media, she tapped the table. "Eat up. It's getting cold."