Chapter 27

Yan Qingqiu's ears rang with the sound of slaps, one after another, driving her head deeper into the pillow until she could barely breathe.

It hurt so much, and it was so hot.

Song Qingre was infuriating.

Song Qingre wasn't holding back at all—how could her fingers be that heavy?

The slaps actually stung. Song Qingre asked with genuine curiosity, "What kind of flower are we talking about blooming?"

"You..."

"Does it hurt?" Song Qingre asked.

Her voice was so soft, almost teasingly itchy.

Of course it hurt—she wasn't made of steel. A few slaps she could take, but after that many, it really stung. She bit her lip. "It's fine, not like you've made me bloom."

Song Qingre said, "I know what you're thinking, but your dad won't be back until at least midnight. Maybe he won't come back at all."

Just then, the sound of a car came from outside, handing Yan Qingqiu an opportunity. She lifted her head, excitedly searching for the window, craning her neck back and forth, and shouted, "Dad! Song Qingre hit me!"

Smack—

"Ow."

"What did you say?" Song Qingre asked her.

Yan Qingqiu glared at her. Yan Fu hadn't even gotten out of the car yet—how would he know what was happening inside? When Yan Fu entered the house and heard nothing, he asked, "Where is everyone?"

The butler had just returned to his room but now came out to turn on the lights. "Miss came back very tired and said she'd be disturbed if there were too many people around, so I sent everyone to rest."

"Dad." A voice came from upstairs.

Yan Fu looked up and asked, "Qiuqiu, why aren't you asleep yet? You should get some rest."

He tilted his ear to listen, but couldn't make out what was being said upstairs. It was strange—a few words, then nothing.

"Go on, tell your dad I'm bullying you," Song Qingre said softly to Yan Qingqiu, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing her back. "Do you remember? When you were little, every time you got hurt, I would blow on it for you."

Blow on it?

This time, Yan Qingqiu didn't make up an excuse. She admitted directly, "I don't remember..."

Yan Qingqiu watched Song Qingre warily, afraid she might actually do it. "No, no, no, don't blow. Don't you dare."

As she spoke, she thought she heard footsteps—her dad seemed to have come upstairs. He even knocked on the door next door, but got no response. Then Yan Fu walked over to this side and knocked. "Qiuqiu, are you in there?"

Song Qingre brushed the hair from Yan Qingqiu's face, her fingers feeling her breath, and knew she wouldn't speak. Song Qingre replied, "She's not here. She's probably asleep by now. Uncle, you should get some rest too."

"Ah, okay," Yan Fu chuckled. "Did you watch today's livestream?"

"I did. Qiuqiu was amazing, so unpredictable—I think the company is going to sell a lot." Song Qingre rubbed her again, but this time she was clearly doing it on purpose, looking at her as if to say, *Sorry I just hit you, let me make it up to you now.*

Yan Qingqiu bit her lip, about to lose her mind. Could she stop talking and pinching her? Song Qingre wasn't really massaging—she was deliberately pinching, taking revenge on her.

For an artist, she was so two-faced, so...

So shameless.

After three or four minutes of this, Yan Fu said, "I'll head out then, so I don't wake her. I told the butler to make breakfast when she gets up."

"Okay," Song Qingre replied.

"Also, thanks for taking care of Qiuqiu lately," Yan Fu said.

Take care of her? Yan Qingqiu wanted to jump up and scream, *She's humiliating me!*

Yan Qingqiu shifted, and Song Qingre thought she was going to resist, but instead she rolled over and glared at the door. "What are you staring at? Switch sides."

"...Oh."

As soon as Yan Fu left, she got another slap. That wretch—she was doing it on purpose.

She was ready to fight back with the next slap, but Song Qingre didn't hit her again. Having had her fun, she asked, "Are you showering here or going back to your room?"

Yan Qingqiu wasn't stupid; she wasn't staying here. She got up from the bed. "I'm going back."

She walked to the door, turned the handle, then looked back at her. "Don't be mad anymore, okay?"

"...Mm." Song Qingre nodded.

Opening the door, she glanced around, then snuck back to her room. Song Qingre came out to see her off, using her phone to light the way, since Yan Qingqiu's phone was still on the couch downstairs.

Yan Qingqiu wanted to slam the door shut to vent her anger, but she was afraid Yan Fu would hear. So she slipped in as quietly as possible, moving like a thief.

Once inside, she rushed to the mirror. It was red—she'd really been hit hard. A big handprint. She placed her hand over it to compare.

The redness spread too fast; her fingers couldn't cover it.

Outside, Yan Fu, who had come to the stairs to talk to the butler about something, thought: "?"

·

Having lazed around all day, Yan Qingqiu slept until 11:30.

The other key members of the household also got up late, and by the time she came downstairs, the table was being set.

As she came down the stairs, she saw Song Qingre talking with Yan Fu.

She didn't dare tell her dad what happened yesterday, so she walked to the dining room as if nothing was wrong.

Yan Qingqiu was reluctant to sit down—not because it hurt, but because it was her first time being spanked, and since it had been so many times, the sensation lingered, and she kept feeling a numbness on her bottom.

"What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable?" Yan Fu asked with concern, looking her up and down. "Does your butt hurt?"

"..."

Yan Qingqiu kept her head down and didn't answer. Yan Fu assumed she'd been too wild in yesterday's livestream and gotten hurt. "Besides your butt, anywhere else hurt?"

Why did he have to say it out loud? How unrefined to mention a butt.

"Qiuqiu?"

"I fell out of bed last night and landed on my tailbone," Yan Qingqiu said, preparing to sit down, but still wary, she instinctively glanced at the chair first.

Yan Fu told the maid nearby, "Go get Miss a cushion."

The maid was quick. Yan Qingqiu wanted to say she didn't need it, but the maid was already back in a flash, placing a cushion on the chair. Yan Qingqiu had no choice but to sit, feeling like her dad's eyes could see right through her.

"Maybe you should see a doctor, in case you hurt something. That could be really painful," Song Qingre suggested.

The head chef brought the dishes to the table. Yan Qingqiu shot a sideways glance at Song Qingre, who had a bowl of egg custard in front of her. Song Qingre held a spoon and gently tapped the custard—smack, smack! The egg custard was so jiggly, bouncing with each tap.

This Song Qingre was really... she didn't know how to describe her. It seemed like she was kindly concerned, but it felt more like she was saying, *Need a doctor? I can be one.*

If she said she wanted to see a doctor, Song Qingre might just change into a doctor's outfit right then and there.

Yan Qingqiu raised an eyebrow. *Go ahead, change. I want to see the costume.*

Let's see who's more perverted.

Song Qingre stopped tapping, and Yan Fu noticed something off between them. He turned to look at Song Qingre, then asked, "Qiuqiu, you didn't get into a fight with Little Re and fall by accident, did you?" His expression was meaningful.

Yan Qingqiu hadn't even eaten anything, but her throat felt stuck. Why was her dad so perceptive?

"How could that be?" Yan Qingqiu avoided Yan Fu's gaze, took a sip of her oatmeal milk, and said, "Dad, I just had a flash of inspiration. I thought of something—what if we have those eighteen models wear professional outfits, like nurse uniforms or doctor's scrubs, for the livestream... wouldn't that be more exciting?"

Her dad was silent for a long moment, then said, "Just eat your meal!"

Song Qingre said, "The models' own profession is already sexy and exciting. Adding all that extra stuff just dilutes the effect."

True.

Yan Qingqiu sighed. It wasn't her fault her kinks were all over the place and she was open to anything.

Doctors, nurses, teachers, principals—she could handle them all.

If possible, she'd like to try all 360 professions, one by one.

She only thought it in her head, didn't say it out loud, and quietly ate. She was glad that when she'd filled out the form originally, she hadn't been thinking fast enough. What if... what if she had said *give me all 360*?

She'd have walked into a full-blown harem hell.

Even the most powerful person would be a bit overwhelmed after 360...

Yan Qingqiu ate just enough at breakfast. She'd probably need to snack during the livestream later, or she'd get too tired talking and moving around.

Yan Fu, however, was worried—afraid today might be even more intense than yesterday, the heart-stopping kind of intense. He didn't want his daughter to work so hard; he worked to give her a good life, and sacrificing her looks to sell products wasn't necessary. Even if she was more lecherous than anyone.

Yan Qingqiu bent over to change into her high heels at the door. Today she'd chosen six-centimeter heels in pale yellow, making her feet look sexy and elegant. She braced herself against the wall with one hand and reached down to hook the hidden clasp with her finger. The maid saw and knelt to fasten it for her. Yan Qingqiu lifted her foot slightly, about to say she didn't need help, but the maid was too quick.

"From now on... you don't have to do this," Yan Qingqiu said, a bit embarrassed. Previously, she hadn't discouraged it to keep up appearances.

Now... she couldn't get used to being waited on like that. These were things she could do herself; she didn't need to be pampered hand and foot.

She walked to the door and saw Song Qingre had also come out, phone in hand, seemingly planning to join her. Yan Qingqiu turned, puzzled. "Why are you coming? You don't know anything about livestreaming."

Song Qingre said, "I want to see what it's like. I've never been to a livestream set. Can I be a guest? I won't charge anything."

If Song Qingre came, they'd definitely sell a lot.

Yan Qingqiu was tempted, but also afraid she'd hold back.

Yan Fu thought it was perfect—she could keep an eye on Yan Qingqiu, just in case she got carried away again and tried to lie down on the models, which would lead to... well, he'd rather not think about it.

He knew it would be a feast for the eyes, but he was worried about Yan Qingqiu's health. Seven of those eighteen models were Alphas!

Yan Fu drove, with the two of them in the back. Yan Qingqiu kept asking how sales were. Yan Fu said, "Yesterday's total sales came to about 19 billion."

"How much? 19 billion? That much?"

"Mm, from a single day." Yan Fu was pleased too. "The exact profit hasn't been calculated yet."

Yan Qingqiu pulled out her phone to calculate the profit, but found it hadn't been charged yesterday, and only 16% battery was left.

Beside her, Song Qingre handed her phone over. "Use mine."

"No, I'll charge it in Dad's car later," Yan Qingqiu said, pressing buttons. How many zeros were in 19 billion? Damn it, she'd never been good at math—she had no idea how to calculate profit...

After fiddling with the phone for a bit, she noticed Song Qingre was still stealing glances at her. She turned the screen off to avoid embarrassing herself, and asked, "What's wrong?"

Song Qingre just looked at her quietly. The car moved slowly, and occasionally she'd glance out the window.

Yan Qingqiu could feel her gaze and couldn't ignore it. She lowered her voice and asked, "Why do you keep staring at me?"

At first, Song Qingre just smiled and said nothing. But when she looked again and Yan Qingqiu pressed her, Song Qingre said softly, "It reminds me of when my parents were still here."

The car fell silent. They were waiting at a red light, and outside the barrier was a candied hawthorn shop.

Song Qingre's parents had died when she was fifteen; it had been ten years. She said, "It's been so long, I've forgotten most of what it was like being with them. All I remember are little things. It's like my memory was wiped clean, slowly forgetting everything." She paused. "Qiuqiu doesn't remember any of it either, right."

Yan Qingqiu's mind went blank. She'd never even seen a picture of Song Qingre's parents. She'd looked for information at home, but there wasn't a single photo left. She'd wondered how it had been cleaned up so thoroughly but was afraid to ask, fearing the answer would be that *she* had burned them.

Later, she'd seen it in the butler's notes. According to the butler, on that rainy day, the weather had been strange—bright and sunny, then suddenly thunder and lightning split the sky.

A clear sky whipping the daylight was bizarre.

Even stranger was what *she* did. She had the entire household pack up all of Song Qingre's things into boxes and throw them out the door. Song Qingre had stood in the rain, picking them up one by one, quickly soaked through, and when the boxes got wet too, *she* wouldn't let anyone help.

The rain had matted her eyelashes.

Yan Qingqiu was an orphan too; she understood that feeling of being alone and helpless. Her own situation wasn't as bad—she'd never been cast out. But Song Qingre had been thrown out... Yan Qingqiu had seen children returned to the orphanage, each one becoming depressed, quiet, withdrawn. They'd curl up in corners, refusing to accept anything, withering like flowers in a wasteland, petal by petal.

Later, Song Qingre had dragged her boxes back to her own yard. Yan Fu, returning from work and learning what had happened, was so angry he grabbed a whip to beat *her*. But she grabbed his hand and pushed it away, flatly telling him that if he dared, she'd report him for domestic violence, and the whole circle, even the whole country, would hear about it.

Yan Fu was so enraged he was hospitalized that rainy night. As for Song Qingre, the butler's notes said she seemed to change afterward, growing quiet. The two properties were close, and he could sometimes hear a cough from across the wall.

*【Cough, cough, like she was trying to cough out her heart and lungs. When I wanted to bring her medicine, I found the door locked tightly from the inside. She locked it herself, refusing to answer anyone. No one could get her medicine to her.】* *【"Waiting to die, just waiting."】*

"Qiuqiu?"

Yan Qingqiu snapped back, her heart aching. "What? You scared me."

The butler had a way with words, and even now, Yan Qingqiu's chest felt tight and numb. She touched her chest.

Song Qingre said her name so gently, probably thinking of happier times. Yan Qingqiu leaned back, trying to find support, feeling guilty because she truly remembered nothing.

"Um..." Yan Fu started to say something, but the light turned green, and the car moved on.

Yan Qingqiu had no memory of the Song couple, but Yan Fu did. They'd been old neighbors and close friends. When Yan Qingqiu was little, she'd always play at their house, and the Sings had taken care of her a lot. Song Qingre's father was in business, doing export trade; her mother owned a flower shop. Her father had fallen in love at first sight when he saw her mother watering flowers at the shop's entrance on his way to work.

It was romantic.

Unfortunately, they'd died in a plane crash while returning from a trip abroad, where they'd been seeking medical treatment.

Yan Fu had never understood the change in his daughter toward Song Qingre. He'd even secretly consulted a Taoist priest, fearing she'd been possessed.

Song Qingre seemed to be thinking about these things too; after speaking, she fell silent.

Since she'd transmigrated, Yan Qingqiu had heard Song Qingre mention her parents only this once. *Ah, if only I'd come earlier, maybe I could have stopped so many things—like not kicking Song Qingre out, or preventing her parents' death.*

Yan Qingqiu fiddled with her phone, draining the 16% battery completely.

The car stopped at the company building. Yan Fu's secretary opened the door, and Yan Qingqiu got out from the back. The secretary nodded at her. "Miss."

"What's going on? Something happen?" Yan Fu asked.

"Today, several media outlets called, wanting to interview Miss. And this morning, someone from the Fu family came, trying to wait for Miss," the secretary said.

Yan Fu frowned deeply. "Make sure security is tight. Don't let anyone in. If you see Fu Ye..."

Yan Qingqiu interrupted, "Ask him for money. I haven't even settled the score for what he did last time. Secretary, go make a banner and hang it in front of the company: 'Fu Ye, don't even think about entering unless you pay five billion.'"

The secretary had already witnessed Yan Qingqiu's wildness, but this still shocked her. *Miss is truly one of a kind.*

The secretary looked at Yan Fu. "Should we do it?"

"Have it made first," Yan Fu said.

Yan Qingqiu was delighted. She looked up at the building, admiring her dad's company.

Awesome! Take that, you scumbag.

Inside, Yan Fu was about to take them upstairs, but Yan Qingqiu shook her head. "You go ahead. I'll sit in the lobby for a bit. Waiting for someone."

Figuring she was waiting for Su Xingjie, Yan Fu didn't pry. He told the secretary to have more security guards posted, just in case Fu Ye came to cause trouble.

As Yan Fu walked off with the secretary, he said, "We should thank Xingjie properly. She really came through lending us the models."

Yan Qingqiu and Song Qingre sat in the lobby. Yan Qingqiu fiddled with her dead phone, trying to turn it on, but the screen always flashed and shut off.

Song Qingre watched her hands. After a moment, someone outside shouted about a food delivery. "Yun Tianshi! Your delivery! Or is it... Hesper? Ugh, such a hard name to pronounce. Your phone's not getting through. Come get your food!"

Song Qingre glanced at Yan Qingqiu, who was on alert. She blinked. *How did you know it's mine?*

Yan Qingqiu got up to sign for it, opening the package as she walked, then came back to Song Qingre and pulled out a candied hawthorn stick for her.

It was the old-fashioned kind, with crystallized sugar and sesame seeds.

Yan Qingqiu bit into one, holding it in her cheek so it bulged. The hard candy cracked, and the inside was sweet and sour. She asked, "You really like candied hawthorn?"

Song Qingre turned to look at her, fingers brushing her cheek. "Not really."

"Then why were you staring at it so long in the car?"

Song Qingre's brow twitched. She wasn't looking at the candied hawthorn—she was looking at the people selling it. When she was little, she used to take Yan Qingqiu to her mother's flower shop, and next to it was a candied hawthorn stand. Every time they went, her mother would buy them some, and they'd sit on the bench outside the shop, eating all afternoon.

Qiuqiu would say, "We're like Kiki's Delivery Service, except she runs a bakery. When my dad comes back, we'll buy a bakery."

Song Qingre would lick the sugar off her lips, curious about the future—what would Qiuqiu become?

"I don't eat it often, but every autumn and winter, I get a craving if I haven't had one," Song Qingre said.

"Oh."

Yan Qingqiu dodged her fingers, the spot she'd touched tingling. She turned toward the elevator. "Eat one now. Don't wait until we're in the elevator."

Then she remembered, "I should've bought one for Xing Xing too."

"Why aren't you eating? Don't you like them?" Song Qingre asked.

"No, I love them." Song Qingre crunched a candied hawthorn, following slowly behind her.

*I also love that you forgot to buy one for Xing Xing.*

··

Yan Qingqiu didn't like wandering around the company, so she took Song Qingre straight to the livestream studio and introduced the equipment.

"It's like this, you just look for the camera, like this."

Song Qingre nodded.

Yan Qingqiu said, "You're so smart, you understood all that from my explanation." In truth, Yan Qingqiu didn't understand anything herself—she'd only touched the equipment the day before, and she didn't know most of the people there.

She scooted closer to Song Qingre, her phone dead and no power bank in sight, so she sat by her chair and watched what Song Qingre was looking at.

Song Qingre was looking at the trending searches. Number one: *7 PM, Locked to Yan's Flagship Store: Yan Qingqiu vs. Eighteen Young Models.*

Who bought that?

By the time it dragged to 7 PM, the hype hadn't died down. Yan Qingqiu started the livestream, but Su Xingjie was stuck in traffic and running late.

Today, several staff members were Song Qingre's fans and quietly asked for autographs, but Song Qingre declined with a smile, saying her hands were full.

They could see she was holding a candied hawthorn stick.

But she hadn't eaten any since she came in. Why not throw it away or put it down?

Some even tried to get Song Qingre and Yan Qingqiu to co-host the livestream, but Yan Qingqiu refused. Song Qingre was an artist—selling products would lower her status, and besides, the content was too spicy... absolutely not.

Once all the equipment was set up and the livestream went live, she sat down, and within moments, ten million people flooded in, scaring Yan Qingqiu half to death. She almost closed the stream.

She had the staff load the remaining products.

She noticed the comments, with people even explaining her and Fu Ye's love story.

Yan Qingqiu sat down, showed her face, frowned, unable to stand it anymore, and asked, "Was I really that stupid before? I didn't know until I saw it. Wow, thanks for the education, everyone. From now on, I refuse to be a love-fool..."

Netizens: 【Focus on business, sis, focus on business】

Yan Qingqiu immediately stopped that terrifying idea. "No, no, no, don't say that. If I could, I'd rather be a bum for 365 days. Just give me a monthly allowance, and I'd be happy."

She shook her head, again and again. "My ultimate dream is to be a good-for-nothing."

The comments understood her well: 【Isn't your ultimate dream to have 365 wives and spend every day being shy with them?】

Yan Qingqiu couldn't help but laugh.

Comments: 【Isn't it 365 wives, each one beautiful and sexy, different personalities, all rich, and occasionally allowed to find new flings?】

Damn.

These netizens were too much.

Yan Qingqiu's smile was barely contained. If her mouth were bigger, it would've split from ear to ear. "Don't say that, don't say that. I'm very devoted. 365 wives are enough. Honestly, one more and I'd be too full, hahaha... but maybe I'd also want to challenge my limits."

"Buy the products! Buy the products! All you do is talk. I haven't even rolled over eighteen models yet."

Then Yan Qingqiu stood up, stretching her limbs and neck, and glanced toward Song Qingre. Song Qingre wasn't looking at her. Lucky...

She took a sip of water, deliberately passing by Song Qingre, and saw that Song Qingre had sent a tip: 【Presenting the anchor with a Love Cruise Ship, 1314 coins.】

She nearly choked.

Yan Qingqiu didn't wander back to the stream area until Su Xingjie arrived with a group of models in trench coats.

Su Xingjie said, "Sorry, Qiuqiu, I'm late. Traffic was awful..."

Yan Qingqiu hadn't planned to sell everything at once, but she was puzzled by the models behind her. She frowned and walked over to guide them, to take off the coats—how would they generate heat with so many clothes on?

Su Xingjie stopped her. "I did it on purpose, Qiu Bao. What if you actually roll, right? Just in case."

"It's fine, don't worry. I have a plan. Aren't they hot in all those coats? Take them off."

One by one, the eighteen models unbuttoned their trench coats. Yan Qingqiu's eyes widened for a moment, blinked, then raised a hand. "Put them back on."

It must be that wearing trench coats in this season was too hot, so underneath they had on even tinier tank tops and shorter shorts—almost like a Victoria's Secret runway...

Amazing.

During the livestream, everyone had seen the models in their trench coats and were excited: 【She loves us, she knows we're perverts, so she deliberately wore the trench coats to give us an extra striptease. There's gotta be something good underneath!】

Su Xingjie glanced over and wanted to cry too.

Had she helped or made things worse?

Today's livestream had noticeably more viewers, and they were aggressive, not giving Yan Qingqiu a chance to waste time on nonsense.

【How about this: if you get Artist Song to lie in position 19, and you roll over her and back, we'll buy out all your links right now. Anyone who returns an item is a dog, and those returning things can't order later. Deal?】

Yan Qingqiu was stunned. How did these people know Song Qingre was here?

【Can't forget Director Su, I can hear her voice.】

【I'll even snap up the haute couture the models are wearing.】

【!!!】

"!"

At this point, Yan Qingqiu was running on fumes, with only a few empty links left, and more people came today, as if they'd saved up to watch the show.

Netizens: She could've just robbed me, but she even gave me massage oil and lotion. I'm touched. I want to spend money on her.

Thanks. I've earned enough. I'm too full.

Everyone looked at Song Qingre, who was easygoing. She held her phone and looked up, saying softly, "Sure. Want me to change into something sexy too, show off my waist and abs?"

"No, no, no," Yan Qingqiu blurted out, getting up from behind the equipment and giving Song Qingre a warning glare. *You're an artist. Be aloof, be cold. Please, don't be as shameless as me.*

*Some things I can bear alone.*

"What are you talking about? An artist is an artist. Don't get carried away. It's just eighteen models. I'll roll, just get the links ready later."

She didn't see the comments flash by.

【Nice, nice, nice, the goading worked!】

【Oh my god, it's obvious she doesn't dare roll over Miss Song.】

【Let me ship this: I had a fling with 18 models, but then I fell for the cold, elegant painter Song Qingre. So exciting~】

But when Yan Qingqiu took off the models' coats, she realized: *Wait, why did I agree to roll over the models so easily?*

She was about to rally some more, but the comments were getting impatient.

【Hurry, hurry, hurry, load the products, put up the returns too!】

Yan Qingqiu gestured to the staff beside her and asked nervously, "Any returns?"

One minute, no. Two minutes, no. Three minutes, still no.

Yan Qingqiu was surprised. Were netizens really this committed? If just one returned... she signaled with her eyes. *Really none?*

Su Xingjie, watching the livestream offstage, couldn't bear to look, covering her eyes with her hand and rubbing her face. *You have no idea how perverted netizens are.*

The livestream kept attracting more people. Yan Qingqiu had nothing to stall with now, and she'd already warmed up.

"Um, oil up the models."

"Okay." The assistant brought the oil over. "Miss, you can apply it."

Yan Qingqiu was speechless. She stared at the assistant. *You're a great assistant, aren't you? Do you think I'm still in the mood to be lecherous?*

She told her to hand the oil to the models. Several of them took off their clothes, wearing even less than yesterday. Last time, they had super short shorts; this time, the hems were practically at the hip.

The oil made their skin glisten, slippery and wet. It was easy to imagine how soft and bouncy it would be to roll over them.

Yan Qingqiu also oiled herself up. When choosing a scent, someone picked a bottle for her. She looked up and met Song Qingre's eyes. Song Qingre didn't speak, wasn't watching the livestream, her fingers resting on her legs, but Yan Qingqiu felt she could hear a voice: "Impressive, you even know to use oil."

After oiling up, Yan Qingqiu warmed up, doing push-ups on the floor. One wasn't enough, so she did another. She wasn't short—170 cm, and she looked like a fierce Alpha. Her body went down and up, over and over, sweat beading on her skin.

Some had suspected she was getting paler and more delicate, maybe an Omega, but who could be this wild and be an Omega? With at least six Alphas down there, wasn't she afraid of triggering a heat? That would be too depraved.

The eighteen models lay down together in the center, forming a line at least nine meters long, so the camera had to zoom out. Yan Qingqiu directed, "Huddle closer, don't spread out."

The staff said, "Right, right, beauties should be close."

"..."

*Not exactly, I'm just afraid I won't be able to roll all the way back if it's too long.*

Once she had them arranged, she was about to tell the camera to roll on three, when she turned and saw a crowd behind her—not just Su Xingjie and Song Qingre, but her dad, the company executives, and random staff all crammed in to watch.

She'd thought she understood lechery, but these people were on another level.

God, so embarrassing.

Yan Qingqiu felt the pressure. This was too much.

Yan Fu, genuinely worried, said, "Qiuqiu, maybe..."

"No way. I said I'd do it, so I will. People need to keep their word. Not only should customers trust us, we should trust them too."

Yan Qingqiu finished, her head aching, and glanced at Song Qingre again.

*I hope Song Qingre shows some sugar-daddy spirit and orders me: "Yan Qingqiu, if you dare roll over, I'll break your legs~"*

But she stayed silent. Yan Qingqiu had no choice. She got down and started doing push-ups again.

【Stop with the push-ups! I'm afraid you'll run out of energy in the middle.】

【It's fine, Qiuqiu's push-ups are nice to watch. A little appetizer.】

After ten push-ups, Yan Qingqiu had made up her mind. Catching her breath, she sat cross-legged, rubbed her fingers, and said earnestly to the models, "I'm going to roll over you now. Sorry in advance, sorry."

The eighteen models said nothing; some closed their eyes, others stared at the ceiling.

Yan Qingqiu exhaled and scooted back a bit.

The first model said, "Maybe you should just roll over quickly."

True. Not rolling would look cowardly. Better to just get it over with. Yan Qingqiu tried to convince herself. *It's fine, I'm not scared. Dad said yesterday's sales hit 19 billion, closing in on the big anchors. Today should be even better.*

19 billion, and she got to roll over eighteen models.

Either way, she was winning. Her only regret was that she'd spent yesterday being spanked and forgot to think about what pose to use.

Overthinking was stressing her out.

Yan Qingqiu lay down first, staring at the ceiling, taking a deep breath, seeing only white. Then she got back on her hands and knees.

The models were nervous too, more than if they were on an international runway, palms sweating.

After a moment, Yan Qingqiu's back pressed onto the first model. She was careful, but the contact was clear. This wasn't a push-up; the oiled bodies were slick and wet, and she nearly slipped back. She accidentally pinched someone's flesh... damn.

Yan Qingqiu gathered her strength and rolled over the eighteen models like a wave, her body pressing over the curves, the oiled skin slick and damp. Rolling fast felt like riding wave after wave, and when she finished, she seemed to drag a slick trail behind her.

The force of the roll sent her head spinning, dizzy. When she hit open floor, her body slammed into the ground, and she let out a hiss.

She lay flat on the floor first, catching her breath. Then she propped herself up, craned her neck slightly. Her pale yellow heels hit the floor, legs lifting, heels sliding across the white tiles.

Rolling is exhausting, not something you can do without training. She was instantly drained.

【Qiuqiu, roll slower! You're going too fast, I can't see!】

【She actually did it! Roll back, roll back!】

Yan Qingqiu was slim, and her taut body had strength. She stood up, looking at the models, their eyes closed, lashes fluttering. This time, when she rolled again, she was much slower.

Not because she was pandering to the audience, but because she'd used up her strength in the first go. She had none left.

Her golden hair rippled like a tide as she pressed her arms onto the models and rolled over again, front and back.

This time, she could hear muffled grunts from the models.

Yan Qingqiu deliberately shifted her position, trying to avoid too much contact, especially with sensitive areas, to spare the models any psychological trauma.

But the more she avoided, the more contact seemed to happen. Her hands nearly pressed against someone's delicate throat.

Yan Qingqiu lay flat for a moment, breathing hard, chest heaving, blowing the hair off her nose.

Her brain reported: *This feels amazing. So this is what rolling over eighteen models is like.*

A true nest of beauty.

The models' breaths tickled her ears. Eighteen different pheromones, different skin textures, like needles at her back, like a terrifying roller coaster.

Thrilling.

One model let out a soft moan, and Yan Qingqiu froze.

"Don't move." She couldn't support herself on the models; she had to use her core strength to lift herself, or her arms would press somewhere they shouldn't... and that would be a disaster.

*Just bear with it.*

She lay on her side, eyes closed, rolled all the way to the last one in one go. Her hair was sticky with all kinds of scented oils, and she collapsed on the floor, gasping. *Damn, my body's drained.*

She propped herself up, face sweaty and flushed.

The big screen showed her directly, and the comments were going wild again. She wiped her cheek. *So tiring.*

"It's just rolling over eighteen models, what's the big deal?"

【I'm calling my bestie to do this right now.】

【Sis, don't worry, I'm satisfied. I'm not returning anything even if I die.】

Yan Qingqiu stood up, stretched, and did some leg and waist exercises. *What now?*

Her clothes were already damp.

She didn't dare look at anyone; everyone seemed to be looking at her.

*What's wrong with these people? Someone liven up the atmosphere.*

The eighteen models on the floor were easy enough, but behind her were like wolves and tigers. She snuck a glance—her dad looked serious, Song Qingre expressionless.

The others seemed to be saying, "Look, your dad and your wife are both here. How nice."

She pressed her fingers to her forehead, pushing back her bangs.

Her ears were bright red.

Even though she might get spanked for this, she thought, *I've already done it. Might as well enjoy it. I'll pay for it sooner or later, and not everyone gets this chance—these are eighteen top-tier supermodels.*

And since she hadn't been beaten to death this time, she even felt like challenging her limits and sleeping on all eighteen models. It would be so soft.

But she couldn't look too closely.

Yan Qingqiu waved at the camera. The show was over, the hot Alpha was leaving. "Time for some water. Bye."

The fans in the comments tried to keep her, getting all sentimental, which made her a little embarrassed.

Yan Qingqiu admired the comments for a moment.

*Alright, alright! So fierce, so fierce! You're my dream Alpha! Please roll all over me!*

【Sis, can I have a bite? Just one bite!】

*A bunch of clueless little Omegas, getting flustered just watching someone roll over models. But she did smell like a mix of eighteen different oils.*

Yan Qingqiu stood up, intending to help the other models up, but all eighteen looked at her in unison. Finally, she sheepishly withdrew her hand and said earnestly, "Good work, good work. Did I hurt you just now?"

"It's fine... You're not heavy." The eighteen models stood up on their own, some looking at her, some rubbing their arms.

Seeing a few models with flushed faces, Yan Qingqiu felt a wave of guilt. "Please go take a shower and get a massage. Sorry, sorry."

"No worries, we volunteered," one model said.

Yan Qingqiu felt awkward. No matter how she acted, the models could sense her state. She followed the voice—it was the dark-skinned beauty from yesterday, and she seemed... a little shy.

Shy?

Once all the models were up, she waved at the camera. "Goodbye."

And with that, she left without a second glance.

Yan Qingqiu flung her hair back, saw the stunned crowd behind her, and said calmly, "Livestream's over. What are you staring at? Get back to work."

The staff nodded rapidly. Yan Qingqiu walked over to Su Xingjie, who hadn't moved, and snapped her fingers. "What's wrong? Go check on your models. I think they might have been a little freaked out by me."

Su Xingjie snapped back to reality. "Oh, oh, yeah."

Su Xingjie dazedly went over to her models, beckoning them. Yan Qingqiu left the room, sniffing the fresh air outside. She took a step forward, but her heel slipped, and her leg twisted. She'd used too much force and felt a sharp pain in her hip.

*Damn it.*

I shouldn't have rolled.

She'd worn heels today hoping to do something fun, like stepping on the models with them while rolling, but these netizens had gone straight for the throat, draining her completely, and now the heels were just a painful burden.

She heard a snort, like it came from the System in her head.

System: 【Sorry, I couldn't help it. This is the first time I've met a Host who creates difficulties for herself when there are none.】

"What do you know? This is my fortune. Who else has achieved what I have?" Yan Qingqiu snorted, bending down to take off her heels.

System: 【Indeed, you are quite wild.】

Seeing no one around, Yan Qingqiu vented. "God, this is insane... Eighteen models. Rolling over them is actually a workout... Like a wave."

Their bodies were soft, and coated in a whole bottle of oil, so rolling was exhausting. It felt like a bottomless abyss, and if she lingered even a second, she'd be swallowed whole.

"Was it exciting?" asked a voice.

"I have to admit, it was pretty thrilling. You could really feel how sexy the models are." Yan Qingqiu smiled, but then the smile froze. This voice wasn't coming from her head.

It came from behind her. She turned to look, and Song Qingre was standing right there, looking at her calmly. "Who were you talking to just now?"

Even though she'd been startled, Yan Qingqiu tried to shift her weight, but she still had one heel on, and with her feet at different heights, she wobbled and fell against Song Qingre's shoulder. Song Qingre didn't reach out. Yan Qingqiu steadied herself, mumbling about the pain, then said, "Who else but you."

"You know someone's behind you, but you're still startled?"

Yan Qingqiu pressed her lips together. "Can't I have weak knees?"

"Oh?" Song Qingre looked down along her jawline. "Qiuqiu, you certainly got your fill today. I'm almost jealous."

Yan Qingqiu was breathing heavily, damp with sweat.

"Let me tell you a secret," Song Qingre said suddenly.

"What secret?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

Song Qingre stepped closer, and Yan Qingqiu's hair stood on end, terrified she'd say *I have a System too*. Her heart pounded, and Song Qingre heard it, glancing down at her chest before saying, "The secret is, I realize I'm not as strong as I thought. I told myself I'd support your career and watch you roll over them, but I'm so, so angry."

Yan Qingqiu froze, wanting to back away, but Song Qingre smiled, her lips red, and she licked them softly before whispering in her ear.

"Guess I'm just not as good as you. Not even close."

*Sis, don't say that. You're already way too strong.*

*If I were you, I'd have come over and killed myself by now.*

*You have amazing self-control.*