Chapter 23

At this moment, every tile and every drop of water in the bathroom seemed to radiate awkwardness. Song Qingre felt that Yan Qingqiu had said something, yet also nothing at all.

"Hm?" She raised an eyebrow slightly.

Yan Qingqiu pointed at the bottle on the floor, her finger shaking as she emphasized, "I said, pick it up, and scrub me—my whole body. If you miss even a spot, you'll be kneeling here all day."

Song Qingre was surprised. This little flushed person actually had the nerve to say something like that.

"Pick it up! Don't forget, you still owe me money!" Though Yan Qingqiu's whole body was trembling, after being oppressed for so long, she finally felt like she had gotten some backbone.

Song Qingre walked over, bent down, and picked up the bottle, her fingers wrapping around the citrus-scented container.

"Don't you dare move!" Yan Qingqiu commanded.

"Alright." Song Qingre stayed still. "And then?"

Yan Qingqiu didn't know what to do next either. Song Qingre watched her flounder, her cheeks barely containing a smile as she turned her head away and laughed softly, as if saying, "I'll leave it to you. I won't look."

Yan Qingqiu glanced between the bathtub and the door, then simply sat back down in the tub. The warm water felt genuinely comfortable against her skin.

"I command you—no peeking."

"Mm." Song Qingre dutifully didn't look, turning sideways with her back to her, shifting her arm to rest against the clothing rack nearby.

Yan Qingqiu stared at her for a few seconds, then lowered her head and frantically splashed water on her face. How embarrassing. There were many ways to die in life, but for her, there was just one: dying of cringe. If someone ever passed by her tombstone in the future, her epitaph would surely read: "Either on the way to being embarrassed, or dying from embarrassment—finally becoming the first person to cringe to death."

So humiliating. Truly humiliating.

After she had thoroughly embarrassed herself, she leaned back. The showerhead above the tub was running hot water, and the maid had thoughtfully added plenty of rose petals.

Just a little too thoughtful—she'd also added citrus essential oil.

Yan Qingqiu slipped off her wet clothes and set them on the floor, then looked up at Song Qingre, who hadn't peeked even once.

This was her first time soaking in a bathtub while someone else was in the room.

She was genuinely shy about it.

But the tub was too comfortable. She closed her eyes and enjoyed it.

She soaked for as long as Song Qingre stood there, then commanded, "Go out and bring me my clothes."

Song Qingre nodded. Yan Qingqiu quickly added, "And no peeking."

"I won't look at you." Song Qingre asked, "What do you want to wear? You can't wear too much for an essential oil massage."

Did she really have to add that last part? How mortifying!

"I know. Bring me my tube top and shorts."

Yan Qingqiu waited until she left, then got out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. When Song Qingre brought the clothes in, she said, "Seeing a beauty like me bathe—are you especially excited?"

Before Song Qingre could answer, she added, "Pervert!"

After saying that, she got dressed and walked past Song Qingre into the bedroom. Song Qingre didn't leave but followed her into the bathroom, saying, "I don't know why, but when you scold me, it only turns me on more."

"..."

So infuriating.

Yan Qingqiu didn't continue their verbal sparring. She came out and lay face down on the bed, having no intention of avoiding what was coming. Today she would properly enjoy the massage.

Almost forgot—Song Qingre still hadn't paid back her money. She'd see how this upgraded version of a massage felt, and how much she could deduct from the debt.

Soon, Song Qingre emerged wrapped in a bathrobe, her hair damp, looking rather alluring as she walked over step by step.

Yan Qingqiu stuffed her little notebook and pen under the pillow, wearing only white shorts and a delicate tube top, her body pressing lightly against the bed. Her forehead rested on her crossed arms, her skin smooth and jade-like.

Outside, rain pattered against the window. It had grown fully dark. After waiting a long while without Song Qingre making a move, she said, "What are you staring at? Massage me already..."

"Qiuqiu is so fierce, it's a little scary," Song Qingre said.

"Hurry up." Yan Qingqiu's tone was firm. "And don't call me Qiuqiu. Make it fancier."

When Song Qingre softened, Yan Qingqiu went all in, commanding, "Kneel. Don't lie down. Give me a proper massage."

"Yes, Mistress." Song Qingre obeyed like a maidservant, and Yan Qingqiu got goosebumps—she was so compliant.

Song Qingre was her little slave.

Yan Qingqiu waited, but Song Qingre still didn't move. She turned her head in displeasure, and just then Song Qingre began. A thin stream of liquid from the bottle dripped down, landing on her pale, narrow waist.

"Don't move now." Long fingers pressed on the bottle's opening.

One drop, two drops—cool against her waist.

Song Qingre's fingers smelled fragrant and turned oily. She poured a few more drops and traced her curved fingers across, spreading the oil over her entire body.

Heavenly.

The silence was too heavy. Yan Qingqiu bit her lip. "Say something. A massage this dull is no fun... um, not that your fingers are dull."

"Oh, I understand." Song Qingre said, "It feels like you've been tense at home."

Yan Qingqiu's body was indeed strung tight. She relaxed, letting her breath soften, and Song Qingre added, "I mean how you interact with the household staff."

"It's fine." Yan Qingqiu naturally couldn't admit it. But Song Qingre had only just returned; she couldn't know how "she" usually dealt with the servants, so she said, "It's always been like this at home."

"Always not fitting in?" Song Qingre's tone was flat, yet it struck Yan Qingqiu right in the heart. Her eyes were too sharp.

Yan Qingqiu felt as if every cell on her back had sprouted a mouth, greedily gulping down the essential oil at an incomprehensible rate. Because it was drinking too eagerly, it even nibbled at the long finger resting on her waist.

Every inch of that touch felt like seduction.

Yan Qingqiu was both afraid and craving—wishing she would slow down so she could savor it, and also wishing she would hurry up and put her out of her misery.

She almost wanted to shout: ruin me or I'll ruin you.

The longer Song Qingre kneaded, the more afraid she grew. Unable to see her expression, her mind began racing. Song Qingre was witty and elegant, yet deeply mysterious—someone to fear. Being near her felt like dealing with a demon.

A demon who gently spread oil with her fingers, but if you turned to look, you'd see skeletal claws ready to pierce you at any moment.

"Mm..."

Hit the right spot. That felt good.

Massages were wonderful.

Yan Qingqiu couldn't describe the feeling. It was as if a current had struck her spine—numb and blissful.

"Sorry, I touched your tailbone."

Yan Qingqiu took a deep breath, her fingers clenching the sheets. She couldn't help but sneak a glance back at Song Qingre, who was looking at her back. Her pinned-up hair had loosened, strands falling against her cheek.

She lifted her eyes to meet Yan Qingqiu's. "Hm?"

Her thin lips pressed together, her fingers circling over Yan Qingqiu's skin.

"Mistress, not satisfied?"

More than satisfied, alright? Don't doubt it.

Under the light, Miss Song was a captured servant, following every order to serve this cruel monarch. Yan Qingqiu's entire back was slick and glossy, skin so supple it seemed to drip water at a pinch.

Song Qingre began kneading her legs, and Yan Qingqiu shuddered, tensing up.

"Relax," Song Qingre said.

"Mm hm hm..." Yan Qingqiu felt awkward too, as if she were being rubbed into a state of pleasure, but it was so comfortable. The massage greatly relieved the heat and pain that had been plaguing her body.

"Um, actually... the essential oil is, is quite fragrant, and it feels, feels nice too. Why, why isn't our company's product selling better?" Yan Qingqiu was making small talk, though she was also genuinely curious.

Song Qingre didn't speak at first, and Yan Qingqiu didn't mind.

Then, kneading her calf, Song Qingre said seriously, "Your father is actively innovating, but he's too rigid. He puts his innovations into the product itself, yet the customers remain the same people. Do you think customers can really tell the difference?"

As far as Yan Qingqiu was concerned, she couldn't tell. She bought whatever the sales pitched.

"To truly change things, you have to start with surface work—redesign the packaging to appeal to the public. But that's where your father is stubborn. He'll change the contents but refuses to change the brand's long-standing image, believing it's the face of the family."

Yan Qingqiu understood. "Then isn't that bad? In the future, even the premium products won't sell?"

"They will, but not many. Because the product image is there, some people will still buy it. But it's divorced from its essence—people will see a budget brand trying to pass itself off as luxury. You might lose even more of your core customer base."

Yan Qingqiu was surprised by what she was saying. Song Qingre sounded too much like a businessperson—those weren't the words of an artist.

"If you want to help your uncle, you can tell him all this."

Yan Qingqiu's lips moved, but she didn't dare. She was too inexperienced, clueless about business. "Why don't you tell him?"

"Your uncle is very stubborn. He's been in capital for so long—do you think a little artist like me talking business strategy with him would get anywhere?" Song Qingre put some pressure into her hands, and Yan Qingqiu inhaled sharply. Right there, right there—that felt good. She squinted, thinking that if Song Qingre couldn't do it, she certainly didn't stand a chance.

"Clever Qiuqiu must know how to convince your uncle, right?" Song Qingre's voice was gentle, almost tempting.

Yan Qingqiu squinted, the sheets bunching up in her grip. Whether her mouth was soft or hard, she let out an "Mm."

By the end, Yan Qingqiu felt saturated with oil from head to toe—a ripe, thin-skinned orange, juicy and sweet enough to bite into.

Song Qingre curved her lips, watching her flustered state. She was about to say something when a knock came at the door. The housekeeper called for Song Qingre from outside.

Song Qingre draped a thin blanket over Yan Qingqiu and went to open the door, gripping the handle. Yan Qingqiu raised her head and added, "Don't think you're off the hook. Tomorrow, come serve me on time again."

Song Qingre hummed in acknowledgment, glanced back, and didn't rush off. She took a nightgown from the wardrobe and handed it over. "Wear this when you sleep."

Yan Qingqiu lay on the bed, utterly relaxed. The entire little bottle of oil had been used up. She thought she now understood what "marking" meant in this ABO world.

Song Qingre stepped out and closed the door tightly behind her. The housekeeper looked worried and said, "How is she? The master is concerned, afraid she'll have a fever tonight."

"The essential oil worked well. I massaged her, and she's much more comfortable. She's probably asleep by now."

"Thank you, we appreciate it. You've worked hard."

Song Qingre smiled. "No trouble at all."

··

Yan Qingqiu slept beautifully through the night, her whole body comfortable. One word came to mind: "Bliss."

The first thing she did after waking was change her social media username. It wasn't a name she'd chosen deliberately—it had been like that when she transmigrated.

At first, she'd thought she'd named herself that in the game, and everyone in the game called her that too. It made her cringe so hard she'd been digging holes with her toes for ages.

Later, she thought it must be a coincidence—the original "her" had also picked this name. She'd been afraid arousing suspicion, so she'd never changed it.

Now, as she edited it, she wondered if choosing that username had somehow affected some chaotic magnetic field and dragged her into this game.

She was nervous as she hit submit, worried that changing the name would zap her back home with a whoosh. But suddenly having that thought made her freeze. Had she really grown so fond of this place that she didn't want to go back? She'd never expected that.

First, she changed it to "Yan Qingqiu." Didn't get sent back. Then she changed it to "Love Purple Dream Butterfly Tears · Qiu." Still didn't go back. Finally, she settled on "Qiu'er."

Finally looked somewhat normal.

She looked around and decided to change her profile picture too. It was far too dated—the kind of aesthetic, chuunibyou, "I mourn alone in this world" sadness from her school days.

Thanks, but she'd grown up now.

Time to get mature.

She swapped it to an Ultraman in red briefs, shooting a beam of light—inspiring and full of radiance. Truly the kind of profile picture a promising young person of the era would use.

After that, she got up and changed clothes.

Within five minutes, she'd received a dozen messages.

Su Xingjie: 【Qiuqiu, what did you do to yourself? Account hacked?】

The housekeeper: 【Sent a docx document, then retracted it, and sent a "?"】

Yan Qingqiu sat up calmly and replied to each: 【Nothing, just wanted to change my avatar and mindset. A fresh start.】

Though they didn't understand, no one pressed further.

Because she'd been running around yesterday, she hadn't yet read the latest updates. She'd saved up two chapters. She quickly washed her face and brushed her teeth, made herself presentable, and climbed back into bed.

She tugged the thin blanket around herself, worried some random thing might interrupt her reading time.

Once everything was set, she opened it.

【Recently, the master came home. Watching the missus tiptoe around, it reminded me of the times she used to misbehave and get punished. I can't recall whether it was their first or second year of high school, only that Miss Song was about to leave for summer camp. The missus insisted on going along, but the master, fearing she'd cause trouble for Miss Song, strictly forbade her from running off.

But she still slipped into the trunk early one morning and rode along with the car. If not for a security checkpoint on the way, she might have suffocated in there.

I heard that when she was found, she was drenched in sweat, pale, and struggling to breathe. The whole household was frightened out of their wits.

I don't know how she survived those days. But when she returned, the master stood at the door holding a stick, ready to hit her. She jumped around frantically, and none of the servants dared to intervene. I didn't dare speak either. Only Miss Song rushed over and wrapped her arms around her.

Miss Song lied to the master, saying she had taken the missus along herself. But the master's stick didn't stop in time and struck Miss Song's shoulder.

The missus, who was always hard-mouthed, burst into tears and admitted fault, crying, 'Stop hitting her! Stop! Daddy, I was wrong! I snuck out on my own!'

'You've hurt her!'

The master was so angry he wanted to hit her again.

Miss Song shielded her tightly behind her.

The master, having hit the wrong person, was in the wrong and said no more.

The two of them had started sleeping in separate rooms once they entered high school, but the missus, though she apologized verbally, would still sneak into Miss Song's room at night, crouch by the bed, and say she was sorry.

'It doesn't hurt,' Miss Song said.

The missus was wild by nature, and it was always Miss Song cleaning up her messes. For example, when summer camp ended and the missus hadn't finished her summer homework, stacks of papers piled up like a mountain. Miss Song stayed up all night with her, and both of them would doze off, heads knocking against the desk.

The missus always said, bold as brass, 'Kiss me, and I won't mess up again, okay?'

Miss Song was slow with words and never knew how to argue back.

She'd always buy candy for the missus, and eventually the missus got a toothache and rolled around the house in pain, yet still said, bold as ever, 'Kiss me, and I won't eat candy anymore.'

That was how they always were. Miss Song would always be flustered by her antics, and the missus basked in those days, coming up with new tricks every day.

One day, I found a torn envelope under the missus's pillow. It was pink, full of tender feelings, deeply romantic—over a thousand characters. I don't remember the exact contents now, but it was probably a love letter addressed to Miss Song that she had intercepted.

Another day, I discovered a letter under the missus's pillow. Written by the missus, it was nothing short of literary genius. She wrote: 'During the day, I read in a book, "Wind and rain darken the sky, the rooster crows ceaselessly. But since I've seen my lord, how could I not rejoice?" Yet the sky didn't rain, and I couldn't sit still. Then I thought of the line you made me read, "At dawn I watch the sky, at dusk I watch the clouds—when I walk, I think of you; when I sit, I think of you." Missing you is longing; hating you is also longing. The green plums beneath the window grow ripe day by day, and you're downstairs painting, yet I still miss you to death. Do you understand? May I be a star and you the moon, together shining bright every night.'

Since I'd seen it two days in a row, I checked again on the third day, and it had changed to: 'My math is bad enough that I can say 520, but my Chinese is good...'

That letter was too plain and inelegant, so I didn't commit it to memory.

Every letter was signed with an 'Autumn.' Every letter had a stamp neatly affixed. I don't know which letters made it into the mailbox, or which received a reply.

I think this was why she so recklessly climbed into that trunk, fearing neither life nor death, to follow Miss Song—she was afraid someone might pluck the green plums before they ripened.】

As she read, Yan Qingqiu immediately matched this to the things she'd found in Song Qingre's room that day. She wanted to give "her" a thumbs up—bravely pursuing love was admirable, but the love letter choice was poor. She should have gone with "At dawn I watch the sky, at dusk I watch the clouds—when I walk, I think of you; when I sit, I think of you." The latter was just too old-fashioned.

【Later, after their relationship fell apart, Miss Song came back on Qingming Festival to pay respects to her parents. It was also a rainy day. Miss Song stood alone without an umbrella, so I took one out to her. Her eyes flashed with surprise.

She must have thought the umbrella was from the missus.

But at twenty, she should have known—if I said nothing, the umbrella had nothing to do with the missus.

I asked if she was still alone.

Miss Song hesitated, then said yes.

I asked with my eyes why. She said something very artistic.

Sometimes, stubbornly waiting for one person is better than aimlessly trying others.

'What if it never gets better?'

'Wait until death. Die waiting.'

I know a little about art. The missus's eighteen years of youth created an artist, then spent six years punishing her for it.

I understand her art, but I don't understand this artist of hers.】

Yan Qingqiu's fingers twitched as she read, blinking twice. Her lashes grew wet. She shouldn't have read the latest updates—this unexpected angst hit her far too hard.

She tucked away her phone and went downstairs, only to meet the housekeeper coming up to call her for a meal. She shot him a cold glare, and he immediately understood that she'd read his document.

Yan Qingqiu gave him a look of utter disappointment, pointing accusingly at him. If Song Qingre hadn't been sitting downstairs, she would have said, "I don't expect you to write the spicy stuff, but don't drive me to my death with angst either."

Yan Qingqiu took her seat at the table and glanced sideways at Song Qingre, who was picking up a pan-fried bun with her chopsticks. She chewed and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Yan Qingqiu washed her hands and started eating.

She thought back to yesterday's stroll in the rain, and Song Qingre's words: "I wanted to walk a little longer with you."

Was she seeing her as "her"?

That made it even more angsty...

"Miss?" The housekeeper bent down several times to call her. "What are you thinking about?"

Yan Qingqiu pulled her gaze back. "Nothing."

She was just thinking about whether to make a comeback—whether to write another fanfiction, one that went straight to bed, carrying on for days and nights.

The housekeeper said, "The rain hasn't stopped today. The master asked you to stay home and not go out."

Yan Qingqiu hummed, lowering her head to eat a bit, then glanced at Song Qingre again. Song Qingre noticed her gaze. "What is it?"

Yan Qingqiu suddenly remembered the very beginning of the game.

The game had asked if she wanted to help the beauty in bed alleviate her heat, and she'd clicked "help"—and then gotten killed instantly.

Could there be a connection?

After yesterday's incident, the maids weren't so afraid of Yan Qingqiu anymore. Even though she had scolded them during dinner, it was just words, no punishment. They felt the little princess had a sharp tongue but a soft heart.

That sense of not belonging seemed to have faded somewhat. Because of that hug from Song Qingre, everyone now knew she was lively and high-spirited, and they would even talk to her on their own initiative.

When Yan Qingqiu first transmigrated two days ago, she'd been trembling with fear, desperately clinging to her persona, bossing everyone around like a conquering general. She disliked others, and they feared her in return, tiptoeing around everything. Now it was a little better...

Watching the maids bustle around her, she couldn't help but ask the System, 【I really didn't blow my cover? I feel like someone saw through me!】

The System said, 【No, but I've already applied for your reward.】

Yan Qingqiu had no resistance to gifts and money. 【What reward? Tell me.】

The System: 【I can't show you yet, but I promise you'll love it. Let me give you a hint about the plot first: you can meet Fu Ye once.】

Yan Qingqiu didn't get it. 【Why meet him? Just looking at him annoys me. And with my dad back, going to see him—am I asking for trouble?】

The System: 【It's up to you. If you want to let the reward slip away, that's fine too. We respect the Host's choices.】

That tone sounded so passive-aggressive.

Meeting Fu Ye once... weird.

Her differentiation period was clearly approaching. Was she supposed to play matchmaker for the male and female leads?

It couldn't be that her heat arrived, she seduced Song Qingre, Song Qingre's rut arrived too, the leads got their harmonious moment—you love me, I sleep you, you sleep me—and meanwhile she stood off to the side with a knife, cutting out her own gland...

God, that's insane.

Stupid System, you piece of crap, don't you know! Don't you know!

Yan Qingqiu chose to unilaterally stop communicating with the System.

The rain kept falling, hammering the flowers and plants in the courtyard.

It didn't stop all day. Once it let up and the summer heat dispersed, autumn would truly begin. The rain only grew heavier. The household kept close watch, and even when Yan Qingqiu stood at the door, someone would nervously hover nearby.

Yan Qingqiu was unbearably bored. She lay on the sofa, legs crossed, staring at her fingers, then her toes.

She texted Su Xingjie to ask how she was doing.

Su Xingjie replied, 【Today Fu Ye sent his lawyer over.】

Yan Qingqiu shot up from the sofa. She'd just been cursing him out. She sent a voice message directly: "What's that bastard doing at your company?"

Song Qingre, reading in the side hall, turned her head toward her. Yan Qingqiu lay back down and typed, 【He doesn't have anything to do with your company, right?】

Su Xingjie replied, 【He didn't before. This time it looks like he's here to discuss cooperation. I suspect he had a hand in this mess too.】

Yan Qingqiu had a feeling the plot was pushing her to go see Fu Ye. If she didn't...

After sending the message, she tapped the corner of her phone and looked at Song Qingre, wanting her to drive her out.

Song Qingre met her gaze. "That bored?"

Yan Qingqiu hummed, her eyes hopeful. "There's something I really want to do."

"What is it? Tell me—I'll see how urgent it is."

Yan Qingqiu couldn't tell her. Her lips moved, looking a little anxious. She glanced at Song Qingre, too embarrassed to beg, and softened her tone.

"Please, just help me."

The hand holding the book stilled. Yan Qingqiu softened her voice further. "I'll only be gone a little while."

Song Qingre turned to look at her. Yan Qingqiu was leaning against the sofa back. Song Qingre closed her book and told the maid, "Report to Dong Shu when you get the chance. I'll give you half an hour. I'll drive you there, but you have to make sure you don't get caught in the rain. Call me when you're ready to come back, and I'll pick you up."

Yan Qingqiu nodded immediately. "Thanks."

Song Qingre was a woman of her word. She grabbed her keys and pulled the car around. Yan Qingqiu put on a raincoat, and one of the maids even held an umbrella over her as she walked.

Once in the car, Song Qingre asked for the address.

"ER Tower."

Song Qingre tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, adjusted the navigation, and drove slowly through the rain-soaked city.

The atmosphere in the car was a bit heavy, so Yan Qingqiu asked, "Are you heading back, or going to the office later?"

"Passing by the office."

Feeling the silence press in, Yan Qingqiu added, "Actually... I got a copy of the inspection report from Dong Shu."

The car suddenly stopped. Yan Qingqiu jumped. "What's wrong?"

"Red light. Go on."

"Since ER had that incident, I got Xing Xing's inspection report and planned to bring it to her."

"Why not just forward it to her?"

"I still have something important to tell her." Yan Qingqiu was a little smug. "I thought of a solution for her."

The car moved again. Song Qingre said, "That clever?"

She hadn't even confirmed if it would work, and Song Qingre was already praising her. It made her a bit embarrassed.

They arrived at the building. Yan Qingqiu was about to dash upstairs when Song Qingre said, "Take your raincoat. What's the hurry?"

"Right, right." Yan Qingqiu bundled up the raincoat, tried to stuff it into her bag, failed, and tucked it under her arm as she headed inside.

Song Qingre drove back to the studio, entered her office, and opened the computer. She clicked on the email waiting in her inbox.

The hospital records had been forwarded to her first. She went through them, and when she reached the final page showing the match report, it read: "Match rate exceeds 98%. This alpha and omega are not suitable for cohabitation."

Song Qingre's fingers pressed on the mouse. She didn't click either button, just sat in silence, then pressed down on the scroll wheel with force.

Then: Delete.

She reorganized the file and sent it to another email address.

Song Qingre called her assistant on the intercom and had her come in. She said, "Could you do me a favor and make a trip to the hospital?"

Xiao Fu asked, "What do you need?"

Song Qingre said, "Run a pheromone compatibility test."

The assistant didn't quite understand but didn't ask further. She was about to say it would take two or three days for results when Song Qingre sent her two files containing the pheromone data of an alpha and an omega. The assistant glanced at them—the alpha's information didn't match Song Qingre.

"Get me the results as soon as possible."

"Understood."

The assistant took another peek. The smile at the corner of her boss's mouth had cooled, though it was restrained—not as openly cold as before.

·

Yan Qingqiu met up with Su Xingjie at ER, and Su Xingjie led her to the office. Yan Qingqiu got straight to the point: "I have an idea, not sure if you're willing to try."

Su Xingjie looked at her. "What idea?"

Yan Qingqiu pulled out the inspection report the housekeeper had given her today and handed it over. "Post this on your official Weibo and prove you didn't take drugs."

Su Xingjie took it and read it. "I thought of that, but it won't work. Everyone outside thinks I knew she was doing drugs and helped cover it up. I poured so many resources into her, practically carried her onto the international runway myself." At this, Su Xingjie grew furious. "And she turned out to be such a disappointment. Why didn't she just OD herself? If I put someone like that on an international stage, she'd be a disgrace to me and to the country."

Yan Qingqiu only then realized how serious the stakes were. If they embarrassed themselves internationally, ER would have a hard time making money in the future, likely under a cloud of public condemnation.

"I have another idea, if you're willing to try it," Yan Qingqiu said.

"Go on." Su Xingjie was at the point of grasping at straws anyway.

Yan Qingqiu said, "Here's my thought: do a full company purge. Arrange a comprehensive physical exam, and fire anyone who doesn't pass. The internet's been saying you haven't responded—so respond with that as your explanation, and clean out all your company's models while you're at it."

Su Xingjie's eyes lit up slightly. That was a plan. "Then I'd have to calculate the breach-of-contract penalties..."

"That's even easier. You already have the exam reports in hand. If they won't part ways amicably, you publish the results, take them down one by one, and destroy their domestic market. Keep it quiet for now, don't leak a thing. The models definitely won't expect you to go that far."

Su Xingjie grew more and more astonished. "Qiubao, you're brilliant."

Yan Qingqiu felt a bit sheepish. These ideas came from reading gossip. Those companies that tried to cover things up were boring. If she were the boss, she'd kick them all out and declare publicly: my company doesn't want scum like them.

"You could even be crueler. They don't value the future you gave them, so don't spare them. Once you find out, pull their resources and promote others. Establish a high bar for ER. And if it gets tight, you can play the victim online—kicking out so many models was a painful sacrifice, and netizens will support you."

Su Xingjie nodded and made a quick call. Soon, Qiang Wei walked in with a laptop, saying in a low voice, "Domestic brands are organizing a movement to cut their clothes. Some celebrities have posted announcements pulling out of collaborations. They didn't even contact us. The Fu Corporation sent someone—it's their own artist."

ER was currently a major brand domestically, though not unaffordable for everyone—the main ready-to-wear market was still at home.

Su Xingjie handed the exam report from Yan Qingqiu to Qiang Wei. "Post this online later, and have all the models wait for me at the big runway on the ninth floor. Remember—call them in first, then post on Weibo."

Qiang Wei nodded.

Su Xingjie asked Yan Qingqiu, "Want to come watch?"

Yan Qingqiu was curious and wanted to see the drama, but she weighed it and decided against it. Her father was at a critical juncture now, and a dying camel is still bigger than a horse. Now wasn't the time to make enemies. She shook her head. "I'll wait for you here."

Su Xingjie stood. "Thanks, Qiubao."

"No need. Go handle it first—I'm not even sure the plan will work." Yan Qingqiu smiled at her. Su Xingjie left with Qiang Wei. Once she stepped out of the room, her expression shifted—grim and ruthless. She moved with brisk authority: "Make sure to lock the doors tight when we get there."

The models weren't all stupid. With a physical exam at a time like this, some might fear being used as scapegoats and refuse to cooperate. But if Su Xingjie couldn't get hard evidence, she couldn't hold them accountable—and if someone just didn't want to be a pawn and she accused them online without proof, she'd be the one shredded in public.

If Su Xingjie did this, she had to be watertight.

Yan Qingqiu kept checking the time on her phone, worried she'd exceed the half-hour limit. When she saw it had been thirty minutes, she messaged Su Xingjie that she was heading back.

Su Xingjie said she'd come see her off and to wait a moment.

Hearing footsteps outside, Yan Qingqiu came out of Su Xingjie's office. It wasn't Su Xingjie she saw first—it was Fu Ye.

She instinctively stepped back, putting distance between them.

Fu Ye was breathing hard and closed in on her in one stride, his tone heavy. "We need to talk."

"What's there to talk about?" Yan Qingqiu was puzzled. "I don't even like you."

Fu Ye had appeared suddenly with a clear purpose. His eyes darkened, and he blocked her path. "Right. It was me who liked you first, and I wrote you letters. But you were too unreasonable back then, so I kept my distance. Now I've thought it through—I do like you the most."

"Huh? What did you say?"

Yan Qingqiu was stunned. The male lead liked her first?

And he wrote her letters?

That didn't add up.

Fu Ye kept going. "You've changed for the better now. I... I admit you've moved me. If you still have feelings for me, I'll reform from now on."

He looked sincere, as if he were finally turning over a new leaf.

Yan Qingqiu found him utterly exasperating. She struggled to organize her words before saying, "Sorry, but I'm even more unreasonable now. Honestly, I know your type too well. You only think I've changed because I don't like you anymore, because I've stopped chasing you. It's just your ego looking for validation. The moment I throw myself at you like a moth to a flame, you'll say I'm being impossible again!"

She countered him point by point, leaving Fu Ye speechless, as if she'd seen straight through the nature of love. He couldn't wrap his head around it. Before, she only knew how to cling to him, causing scenes, often resorting to emotional blackmail like, "If you don't date me, I'll kill myself." Now she could say something so profound and enlightened.

He was shocked, and he also remembered what his friend had said: when someone truly doesn't love you anymore and has moved on, they don't just see through love—they've seen through your entire DNA.

Fu Ye softened his tone and tried to take Yan Qingqiu's hand. She dodged quickly and tried to walk around him, but he grabbed her wrist. Yan Qingqiu let out a startled yelp and frantically swatted at her clothes. He said, "I won't say those things about you anymore... Let's get married. I'll give you security. Does that work?"

Yan Qingqiu almost died laughing. She couldn't be bothered to tangle with him further. Fortunately, Su Xingjie arrived then, and seeing Fu Ye, she was furious and ready to call security.

This was a critical moment for ER, and Yan Qingqiu didn't want to stir up trouble. She turned and grabbed Su Xingjie's wrist. "Xingxing, let's go. Just looking at him ruins my appetite. He even wants to marry me."

Fu Ye wasn't about to let her leave. He took a few quick steps to cut her off, bracing his hand against the wall like he was going to pin her, but Yan Qingqiu cursed him for being shameless. He didn't care—he thought so too.

"Yan Qingqiu, do you even know that your father owes me a hundred million? Your family's about to go bankrupt. Let me be blunt—I came to ER today not just to break contracts. I came for you."

To be precise, Yan Fu had hidden her too well; Fu Ye couldn't get to her at all. Yan Fu would rather go bankrupt than let Yan Qingqiu come and apologize. So Fu Ye had to show up himself.

"What?"

Yan Qingqiu stopped in her tracks and looked up at him. "What did you do now?"

Fu Ye smiled. "Isn't this what you told me to do?"

Fu Ye didn't understand. What was going on? Didn't Yan Qingqiu hate her father the most? She complained about him every day, sometimes even cursing him to die. Now she was acting all loving and filial?

His eyes slowly filled with suspicion. Yan Qingqiu couldn't hold it together either. Her? What "her"?

It couldn't be that "she" had asked Fu Ye for a hundred million, right?

Soon, Fu Ye's words confirmed it.

"Back then, you asked me to invest a hundred million in your father's company and take some shares. You said his management would definitely hit problems, and I could buy out your father's company at a low price."

Yan Qingqiu was dumbfounded.

What kind of monster would do something like that?

The Yan Corporation wasn't what it used to be, but it was still a domestic brand, a point of pride, with its own business model. "She" wanted to drive her own father to his death.

Fu Ye also sensed something was off. Yan Qingqiu's confusion didn't look fake. He said, "I feel like you've changed into a different person. You don't remember a lot from before, do you?" He sized her up.

Yan Qingqiu had only lost her composure because she was shocked by "her" actions. She slowly regained herself and said, "It's not that I don't remember. I just never thought you'd take it seriously. At the time, my dad was strapped for cash, so I said that to you. How could I ever want to make my dad go bankrupt?"

Fu Ye shook his head firmly. "You said you wanted your dad to go bankrupt. And you didn't just tell me." Fu Ye recalled the image from before—Yan Qingqiu had been very serious when discussing it. He'd even been astonished by her ruthlessness. Worn down by her constant nagging, and knowing it wasn't harmful to the Fu family, he'd gone along with it and invested a hundred million.

He asked again, his suspicion growing each time, "How are you like a different person? You don't remember anything?"

Even the System in her head warned her that exposing her identity would mean instant mission failure.

Cold sweat broke out on Yan Qingqiu. She steeled herself and went full dramatic meltdown, causing a scene. "Fine, fine, fine, I said that! But I was just angry! I didn't want my dad to actually go bankrupt. But you—just because I ignored you, you tried to ruin my whole family? And you targeted my friend too? You're even more disgusting and vicious! You're vile! Either restore the funds right now, or get the hell out of my sight. I can't stand looking at you."

Clearly, Fu Ye wasn't going to restore the funds. He said, "I think you should take our relationship seriously. If we get back together, I'll give you that hundred million without hesitation. But if we don't, then the Yan family's bankruptcy has nothing to do with me."

"Think it over carefully. Stop throwing tantrums. It's time you grew up. Of course, I've thought a lot in this period. Before, I really didn't like you, but now I think I can try to tolerate you, consider you more. Get back together with me."

He thought he was being humble, but as he spoke, he noticed Yan Qingqiu's expression growing worse and worse.

Yan Qingqiu clenched her fists.

Suddenly, Fu Ye frowned. He caught a strong scent of omega pheromones—it seemed to be coming from Yan Qingqiu. The fragrance seemed to try to crush him.

In an instant, sweat broke out all over him.

He glanced at Su Xingjie standing nearby. If he remembered correctly, Su Xingjie was a high-ranking omega with a complex, rich fragrance—mainly the heady, alluring tuberose.

But this time, what he smelled was fiercer.

It was like some kind of provocative, pungent scent.

Like biting into an exploding chili pepper, his nose and throat burned, yet it carried an indescribable sweetness—the kind of complex fragrance only high-level omegas had.

He looked at Su Xingjie, his gaze complicated.

Su Xingjie noticed him sizing up her scent and asked, "What do you want?"

Yan Qingqiu moved to block Su Xingjie, shielding her. Sure enough, he was a scumbag—one second professing love to her, the next eyeing her best friend like a hungry wolf. She shoved Fu Ye hard.

"I'm warning you, if you even think about lusting after Xingxing, I won't just knock your dog head crooked—I'll cut it off and feed it to the dogs."

Fu Ye stumbled back a few steps and found the scent even stronger. He looked at Yan Qingqiu and deliberately released a wisp of his own pheromone. Soon, both Su Xingjie and Yan Qingqiu caught the scent.

Su Xingjie reacted quickly, gripping Yan Qingqiu's arm tightly.

Yan Qingqiu felt her neck heat up fast, welcoming the sudden pheromone with approval. Yes—her gland liked this scent.