Chapter 31

The System's question was a century-level conundrum. 365 people was no small matter, and every single one of them would be exactly her type. It was practically tempting her to abandon her humanity.

What woman could resist that temptation!

Yan Qingqiu clung desperately to her sanity. 【Give me some time to think, okay?】

The System snorted coldly. 【Weren't you just acting so aloof? So good at cursing the System?】

【That was then! You're really putting me in a bind here! Imagine if you were offered 365 AIs that called you 'baby' and 'darling', called you 'Master', and did whatever you said—could you resist that?】

The System fell silent for a moment, realizing it couldn't resist either. It said, 【Fine, I'll give you a few days to redeem it. But if you exceed the time limit, the reward is void. Host, please take note.】

【Got it, got it!】

Yan Qingqiu lay on the bed, pounding her pillow in frustration. Damn it, this choice was too hard. 【First, answer me a few questions so I can confirm some things.】

365 wives.

Toys and such were simply improper.

Or 365 attractive wives holding toys—what kind of scene would that be?

Stop, don't think about it!

But, but... wives were something that could easily be discovered, right?

Yan Qingqiu wasn't overly lustful, so she was a bit more cautious.

She muttered to herself, 【How do these 365 wives appear? Suddenly? That would be too scary! Can your system handle that? I'm not sure it can. Are you really that smart?】

The System replied, 【You can specify the environment. We'll deliver one per day. But if you cause a chain reaction yourself—say, being discovered—that's your own problem. We're not responsible. Any consequences from being discovered are borne by you alone. We only deliver the prize.】

Yan Qingqiu understood.

She thought for a moment and asked, 【Then how long can the wives last? I mean, will they disappear?】

The System's tone was a bit eerie. 【Once they're given to you, why would they disappear...】

Yan Qingqiu laughed nervously. 【What if they can't disappear? With 365 wives and no proper jobs, how can I afford to keep them?】

The System said, 【...That's your problem. If you're not satisfied, you can cancel the redemption.】

Even so, Yan Qingqiu conceded, 【You game systems sending wives—well, I'm pretty satisfied with that part, ahem.】

The System said, 【You know it.】

Honestly, she'd never heard of any game giving out wives before. Whatever game it was, you'd have to find a love interest yourself, or go after one you liked, and even then, you'd rarely succeed.

Yan Qingqiu opened her mouth. 【Then... one last question. I don't need to support these 365 wives, right?】

The System said, 【I said it's based on your desires. They exist only to satisfy your desires. You don't need to support them, and they don't need to eat or drink. We're a proper game. Of course, if you have that kind of fetish and insist they eat, drink, and do their business, that's also fine.】

I feel like you're making innuendos.

But I have no proof.

【That's so good. I feel like you're deliberately targeting my weaknesses, tempting me to do something dangerous, challenging my soft spots...】

Before she could finish, there was a knock at the door. Yan Qingqiu's cheeks instantly flushed with heat. Scared me half to death.

So annoying.

Not that the person knocking was annoying, but the System was.

She'd almost fallen for the lecherous System's trick. And the System had the nerve to claim it was an AI that didn't know about such things—it was clearly the lewdest one here!

Truly, heroes have a weakness for beauties! Beautiful women are humanity's lifelong Achilles' heel!

It was Song Qingre at the door. She asked, "What were you muttering about in there?"

Yan Qingqiu composed herself and replied, "It's nothing, I was on the phone."

Song Qingre's voice came again, "On the phone? Or is someone in your room?"

Whoa.

Yan Qingqiu sprang up from the bed like a fish. This woman was too perceptive. Yan Qingqiu thought back, not sure which things she'd actually said out loud.

It was troublesome to communicate with the System mentally, and the System didn't come around every day. She couldn't get used to it and couldn't help speaking aloud. From now on, she had to break that habit.

She rubbed her chest, thankful she hadn't redeemed the reward.

If Song Qingre had knocked and she'd opened the door with that going on, it would've been a disaster!

That would've been even more embarrassing than getting caught with toys—actually, "embarrassing" wasn't the right word. It would've been utterly terrifying.

Yan Qingqiu got off the bed and shuffled over in her slippers to open the door.

Song Qingre stood outside, her lips curving into a gentle smile as she looked at her. "You actually opened the door for me? That's not like you."

Her words were odd, and Yan Qingqiu didn't understand what she meant. If she didn't open the door, what would she do?

A strange unease crept into Yan Qingqiu's heart. Song Qingre seemed capable of seeing through her secrets. Even though she was fully dressed, she always felt completely exposed in front of Song Qingre. Scary.

"It's not about style. I'm just curious—why are you knocking on my door so late? Something up?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

"I heard you muttering about 'livestock' just now... What does that mean?" Song Qingre frowned slightly and said softly.

"Just cursing someone. I was on the phone with Xing Xing. We ran into Fu Ye today; he was in that car following me all the way, acting like a rabid animal." Yan Qingqiu said, "Thinking about it annoys me, so I cursed a bit."

"Oh." Song Qingre nodded. She didn't look inside, as if she'd only been teasing her. She said, "Do you need any aromatherapy massage tonight?"

"No need. The butler said I have a mild allergy, and my nose can't handle strong scents. Let's skip it tonight. I already had a nice bath." Yan Qingqiu said.

Song Qingre hummed in acknowledgment, not intending to linger by her door. "Then get some rest early. Don't stay up too late. If you feel unwell, call the butler and have him take you back to the hospital."

"Got it. You too."

Song Qingre raised her hand, and Yan Qingqiu looked up to see she was holding a thermometer gun. Song Qingre said, "Put this by your bedside. If you feel off, take your temperature."

Song Qingre was surprisingly gentle.

Yan Qingqiu looked up at her and nodded.

The thermometer gun touched her forehead. Yan Qingqiu saw Song Qingre purse her lips, as if she'd been shot. After that, Song Qingre pulled the gun back, checked the reading, and said, "Hmm... no fever."

With that, she handed the gun to Yan Qingqiu, walked past her door, and headed to the room next door. Yan Qingqiu bit her lip, clutched the thermometer gun, leaned out, and watched her retreating figure.

The door closed, and the corridor fell silent.

Yan Qingqiu went back inside, flopped onto the bed, and lay face down, clutching the thermometer. She rolled over and lay flat on her back.

The whale-shaped ceiling lamp was on. The sheets were wrinkled from her movements, and the light fell on her fair skin, casting a soft glow.

Yan Qingqiu aimed the thermometer at her forehead and pulled the trigger.

"Bang." Her red lips moved. "Yan Qingqiu, you're dead."

Tonight she didn't have to play the little slave; she had plenty of time to enjoy herself. She rolled from one side of the bed to the other, and after two minutes, she checked her temperature again.

It was actually two degrees higher than before.

Weird.

She spent an hour scrolling through videos and also searched: "What if I have 365 wives and my master finds out?"

The search result said: 【Dear user, no one has answered this question yet. We look forward to your answer!】

I wouldn't dare answer that, you useless search engine!

After cursing it out, she put down her phone and tried to sleep. But the moment she did, she had a nightmare. She dreamed she was a promiscuous person, extremely rich—so rich she could order banknotes as appetizers when eating hotpot. She threw money around, living a debauched life. Her arms were full of beautiful women, and when she ate hotpot, pairs of beauties accompanied her. She admired them while eating, occasionally making comments. She leaned against a beauty's soft chest, fell into her embrace, and the beauty fed her milk.

Blissful, fragrant.

Suddenly, a kick burst the door open. A crowd appeared at the entrance—and the face at the front was all too familiar: Song Qingre. Song Qingre held a silver pistol in her hand, and her cold eyes bore into her.

Yan Qingqiu retreated, but Song Qingre walked over step by step, in front of all those beauties, and then pressed her down with a leather shoe. Thinking Song Qingre was going to have her way with her, Yan Qingqiu, in a bid to survive, took the initiative and grabbed her calf. But Song Qingre mercilessly pulled the trigger.

Bang. Yan Qingqiu's head split open.

It hurt. She reached up and touched her head, her palm smeared with red blood. After a moment, her whole hand was sticky.

Song Qingre dipped her fingers in the blood from her skull and wiped it across her face, painting a large X on her cheek. Her thin lips moved, and she patted her face, saying coldly, "You're not her."

Yan Qingqiu woke with a jolt.

Damn, that was terrifying.

She rubbed her face and wiped off the cold sweat, lying in bed, panting.

After a long while, she got up to check her phone: 3 AM. Squinting, she opened social media. Su Xingjie had sent her several messages, inviting her to lunch the next day.

Yan Qingqiu replied with an "okay" and then looked at the chat with Song Qingre. Their conversations were few and far between, but every time they spoke, it was full of innuendo.

··

When she woke again, the weather had turned cooler.

Yan Qingqiu swapped her short sleeves for a white shirt and white trousers, and tied her hair up in a bun.

After breakfast, Song Qingre was heading to the office. Yan Qingqiu went to pick up the car, driving out of the garage—still that blue Sichel from yesterday. She pressed the key fob, and the door swung upward.

Song Qingre was about to say she didn't need a ride, but Yan Qingqiu pointed at the dark circles under her eyes. "You're going to be busy at the office, so you won't get rest. I'll drive slowly; you can nap on the way. Otherwise, you'll be exhausted by the end of the day. Young miss, take care of yourself and don't stay up so late."

The butler was also about to get the car, but Yan Qingqiu told him not to come. After driving back yesterday, she was mostly skilled enough. Besides, if she dropped Song Qingre off, the bodyguards would arrive shortly after. There was no need for him to treat her like a child.

She drove slowly, and Song Qingre, who had stayed up late, was indeed tired. She rested her head against the seat and dozed off a little. When they reached the building, Yan Qingqiu woke her.

"I'll pick you up tonight. If you're not at the office, give me a call."

Once Song Qingre went upstairs, Yan Qingqiu slowly drove toward ER. But she was driving too slowly, and with more traffic in the morning, and no one guiding her, she couldn't handle it. She turned toward the Yan Corporation, and Yan Fu eventually sent a bodyguard down to drive for her.

ER didn't have much important work lately. Su Xingjie had a meeting at the company and, seeing her come by, immediately measured her bust, waist, and hips, then asked if she'd thought about becoming a model.

Yan Qingqiu nodded along.

Su Xingjie was thrilled, practically swearing to promote her to the top. "Now I don't have to worry about getting stabbed in the back. Qiu Bao, rest assured—from today on, you're ER's top model."

Yan Qingqiu was embarrassed, face reddening.

Don't do this; it's making me uncomfortable.

Su Xingjie took her to measure her height and weight and asked what salary she wanted. The top model's base salary was twenty million. There were also runway invitations, commercials, and endorsements—all extra. Yan Qingqiu nearly felt overwhelmed by the prospect of money.

Su Xingjie looked at her measurements and blinked in disbelief. "That's not right... Qiu Bao, you've grown again. Your bust is bigger, and your barefoot height increased by 1.3 cm... That's too fast."

"Maybe I've been replenishing myself recently, so I grew a bit. I find it strange too. What do you think causes it? Should I go to the hospital? But yesterday the doctor said it was fine and normal, so I'm a little nervous."

"Don't be nervous. If the doctor says it's fine, it's fine. Don't overthink it. Definitely don't take any random meds." Su Xingjie clutched the measuring tape, alarmed by her worried look, and suppressed her own confusion so as not to scare her.

Everyone around her was observant. A slight change in her, and they'd notice immediately, as if she'd become a different person. She spent every day with Song Qingre, but Song Qingre never said anything...

Her family members hadn't expressed doubts either.

Maybe it was that being too close made it hard to spot problems. But with Su Xingjie, who hadn't seen her in a few days, even a small change would be noticeable.

The two best friends went shopping together, browsing luxury stores and looking at jewelry and accessories. Yan Qingqiu thought she was indifferent to such things, but after a tour around, she realized she didn't know herself at all...

She absolutely loved visiting these shops. She bought a pearl necklace and eyed a large-carat diamond ring, but thinking about it, she couldn't bear to splurge—she didn't have much money on hand. Su Xingjie almost bought it for her, but Yan Qingqiu managed to talk her out of it.

Yan Qingqiu also bought a few bracelets and earrings, and for a moment, she felt like she was playing some dress-up game. When she came out of the high-end store with bags and parcels, she'd spent 500,000.

Su Xingjie then took her to an ER physical store to try on clothes casually.

Su Xingjie told her to take anything she liked. Yan Qingqiu picked out a fall outfit and asked offhandedly, "Hey, sister, let me ask you something. If you could have 365 wives, would you want them?"

"365 wives? Why so many?" Su Xingjie shot back, utterly confused. "Just three models are already a handful for me."

Yan Qingqiu glanced at the low-V dress Su Xingjie was trying on; her chest was quite full. Su Xingjie looked at herself in the mirror, lifted her chin slightly, and shook her head. "Not bad, but tell Xiao Wen when I get back—the waistline isn't right."

The store manager nearby responded nervously; this was the artistic director, after all.

Yan Qingqiu sat on the chair and waited. Su Xingjie tried on several outfits, even helped a wealthy lady coordinate clothes in between. Yan Qingqiu thought it a shame that her best friend had such a great figure but was so otherworldly.

She said softly, "365 wives, each one exactly your type. When you're in heat, you can do whatever you want with them."

"...Then..." Su Xingjie paused, wavering a bit.

"They're exactly what you secretly desire the most."

Su Xingjie turned to her best friend, wrestling internally for a moment. She pursed her lips and swallowed.

Yan Qingqiu thought to herself: See, beautiful women are popular everywhere. 365 wives were everyone's dream. Even her ascetic best friend couldn't resist.

She tapped the table with her fingers. "So, sister, what do you think?"

"Thinking about it... I'd kind of want it. But in reality, supporting 365 wives would be tiring. One or two would be enough."

"But the wives don't need to eat or drink." Yan Qingqiu said.

"Then I'd just look at my desires, satisfy my curiosity, and see what kind of wife I really want. That works too." Su Xingjie said cautiously, then looked at Yan Qingqiu. "Why are you suddenly asking about this?"

"Just a random thought. What kind of earth-shattering change would happen if someone had 365 wives?" Yan Qingqiu mused. She asked Su Xingjie partly because she couldn't decide herself, and partly to prove that she wasn't the only lustful one—everyone was equally so!

"I don't know about that, but I think I'd be exhausted. Even ancient emperors had fallow periods. Having wives drain you every day sounds a bit hard to handle." Su Xingjie said with a laugh, not taking her friend seriously, thinking it was a joke.

But a joke like that was a bit odd, though it seemed she didn't like Fu Ye anymore and had become a little lewd.

She'd gone from one strange direction to another.

"You want 365 wives?" Su Xingjie asked.

"Not really, but... just thinking." Yan Qingqiu evaded. Who'd have guessed that with a single command, she could have 365 wives at the peak of life—such a good deal, unprecedented and unrepeatable!

Su Xingjie simply handed over her card and told the clerk to charge her—buying Yan Qingqiu's items as well.

After shopping, they handed the bags to the bodyguards and went to the "Garden of Young Ladies," a tea house frequented by wealthy heiresses, for afternoon tea.

Su Xingjie sat in the rattan chair, spooning dessert into her mouth, listening to Yan Qingqiu's plans for the future. Yan Qingqiu kept telling her not to make such a fuss and to just go with the flow.

She sighed, "Your ideals are still as plain and unadorned as ever."

"Huh?"

Su Xingjie said, "Back in school, you were like this, always brainwashing me that you'd be a freeloader, a salted fish, eating and drinking all day, having your dad support you, never wanting to work hard, leaving great achievements to others. You said that every time. But when something really came up, you'd work harder than anyone."

Mentioning the past piqued Yan Qingqiu's interest.

"Luo Xi, Zhao Jiayu, Tang Ling—they were in our school back then. They didn't brag about it, but they could all play piano at level ten, dance Latin, and do ballet—the basics, at least. They always opened every event."

Rich kids indeed.

Yan Qingqiu was about to ask, "What about me?"

But then she thought, I'm not a total waste, am I?

At least the supporting character should have some face, some elegant skill.

"You weren't as skilled as them, but you had a bit of everything. And your specialty wasn't there—you were great at writing. One novel of yours was so popular that the whole school fought to read it." Su Xingjie said, "The content was a bit mature for your age, though."

Yan Qingqiu was relieved. If the female supporting character had some other talent—like playing piano or composing lyrics and music, and excellent at it—she'd be dead; she couldn't do any of that.

Yan Qingqiu said seriously, "I've actually kept writing. I've gained some readers recently."

"Really? Can I see?" Su Xingjie asked curiously. "I still have your old manuscripts saved."

"Maybe another time. It's not finished yet."

"Alright. When you publish, I'll be the first to buy."

Yan Qingqiu coughed twice, startled. No need for that—with what I write, I'm afraid I'd end up in jail if published!

But the butler's writing seemed publishable—his prose was solid. That could make money!

Yan Qingqiu asked curiously, "Speaking of which, when I dyed my hair back then, why didn't you think I'd changed?"

Sometimes parents can't tell—they don't spend much time with their kids, and everything can be chalked up to rebellion. But close friends should notice, right?

Su Xingjie pursed her lips in silence, then said, "Qiu Bao, how about we go raid some more jewelry stores?"

Yan Qingqiu didn't press further, just temporarily setting aside Su Xingjie's hesitation. "People go through three stages in life: rebellion, growth, and maturity. I've grown up now. I won't be as foolish as before."

Su Xingjie didn't want to talk about that. She felt Yan Qingqiu had forgotten many things, but if she went too deep, Yan Qingqiu would ask more, and some things she didn't want to bring up.

Yan Qingqiu didn't probe further and patted her shoulder. "Forget it. Let's go shopping."

Su Xingjie took her to a luxury store, with a crowd of bodyguards trailing behind them, looking all imposing.

Just as they were about to enter, Yan Qingqiu glanced at the shop next door and said, "I'm tired of those. Let's check out that budget store, see if they have any fun little trinkets."

Yan Qingqiu felt that spending tens of thousands on a single accessory was burning money. She already had enough bracelets and necklaces; spending tens of thousands at a time probably meant she could blow through a million a day.

As they browsed inside, Su Xingjie said softly, "Though, you're doing better than before. You used to be... how to put it... pretty strange."

Yan Qingqiu looked at her, holding a hair clip.

As luck would have it, just as they stepped in, Luo Xi came out of the luxury store next door. Luo Xi froze for a moment, then raised her phone and snapped a few pictures of them.

Su Xingjie immediately tensed. She frowned and shot a glare back. Luo Xi took two more photos, then Su Xingjie hurriedly said, "Qiu Bao, let's go!"

Yan Qingqiu looked over, clapped her hands, and the bodyguards instantly blocked the entrance. Luo Xi quickly pocketed her phone and ran off.

Yan Qingqiu bought two hair clips—five yuan each—shaped like spring chickens, fluffy, with "Best" and "Friend" written on their chests.

After paying, she walked out, looked at Su Xingjie, and clipped both chicken pins onto the hem of her shirt.

The shopping done, the bodyguards carried all their purchases. Su Xingjie returned to the company to work on the contract, and they agreed on a signing time. Yan Qingqiu had the bodyguard drive her to the entrance of Song Qingre's studio.

She sent a message to Song Qingre, but Song Qingre's message came first.

Song Qingre: 【I'm having dinner with a client today. I'll head back on my own tonight.】

Yan Qingqiu: 【I'm downstairs at your office.】

Yan Qingqiu started typing more—work mattered more; they didn't need to go back together—but before she could send it, Song Qingre replied: 【Wait a moment, I'll be right down.】

Yan Qingqiu: 【What about your client?】

Song Qingre didn't reply.

Seven minutes later, Song Qingre appeared at the entrance of the company. Seeing her, she smiled and said, "So, are you coming with me to grab a bite, or am I going back with you?"

Yan Qingqiu was torn. "Your work is more important, right?"

Song Qingre waited for her choice. Yan Qingqiu said, "You go see your client alone."

Song Qingre was silent for a few seconds, then said seriously, "I command you to come with me to see the client."

Yan Qingqiu glanced left and right; the bodyguards pretended not to hear and were earnestly studying the trees. Damn it, she was being commanded, but she still had to do her part—standing up straight and nodding. "Yes, Master. Please, get in the car."

She mimicked the butler's usual manner, stepping forward to open the car door for Song Qingre, and when Song Qingre got in, she raised her hand lightly over her head.

Then she walked around to the other side. She planned to have a bodyguard drive, mainly because she'd noticed she drove slowly and that sitting too long made her butt hurt.

As she sat down, Song Qingre immediately spotted the chicken pins on her shirt hem. "Did you buy those today? They're cute."

Yan Qingqiu took them off and nodded. "I meant to give them to Xing Xing. But since she's ER's artistic director and deals in luxury goods, these seemed too cheap for her, so I didn't dare bring them out."

Song Qingre reached out and poked one; the chicken wobbled and pecked at her finger. "Mind if I have one?" she asked.

Yan Qingqiu handed one over. The little yellow chicken nodded when pressed. Song Qingre clipped it to her finger, tapping it occasionally, and asked, "What did you do today?"

Yan Qingqiu recounted her shopping and the budget store. "I felt like Xing Xing was a bit uncomfortable. I shouldn't have gone in there."

"She might have been uneasy because Luo Xi was there, worried they'd laugh at you. She was tense because she wanted to protect you—not because she felt out of place or looked down on the cheap stuff."

Yan Qingqiu turned her head. "Really?"

"If she's a competent artistic director and a good friend, she wouldn't look down on you," Song Qingre said. "Though... I believe Su Xingjie would never disdain you."

Yan Qingqiu was surprised.

In the old chat logs between "her" and Su Xingjie, Su Xingjie had been all flattery, helping her curse out Song Qingre with vicious words. Yet Song Qingre was actually defending Su Xingjie.

Indeed, the female lead had this kind of grace.

"Then give me back the chicken, and I'll give it to Xing Xing."

Song Qingre shook her head, lifting the chicken out of reach, and smiled slightly. "No can do. It's mine now."

Yan Qingqiu huffed and looked out the window with a smile.

The client Song Qingre was meeting was a foreigner, dining at a nearby French restaurant. The two spoke in English, which Yan Qingqiu often couldn't follow. While Song Qingre did business, Yan Qingqiu dug into her meal—the food at home had been bland lately, and this was a nice change.

Occasionally, Song Qingre would glance at her and press down on her plate, meaning she'd had enough. Yan Qingqiu didn't argue; there were plenty of dishes, so she'd order more.

The meeting dragged on. By the time they signed the contract, it was 9:30 PM. Song Qingre drove back, with bodyguards in the car ahead and behind, and two more in their vehicle.

"How come your uncle lets you have so many bodyguards?"

"I asked for them."

This time, it was Yan Qingqiu who yawned. She rubbed her eyes. "Do you think they can see anything at night with those sunglasses on?"

"Probably."

"I can't tell them apart, anyway."

The car pulled into the driveway, and Song Qingre looked up at the sky, full of stars. "This is the last clear night of stars. For the next two seasons, we won't see them."

Back inside, she didn't seem tired and picked up a sketchpad to draw. Yan Qingqiu yawned a few times, pulled up a chair, and watched.

Yan Qingqiu simply couldn't keep things in. Seeing how seriously Song Qingre was drawing, so quietly, it just didn't match up with the 'snitching' incident. It really didn't seem like something she would do.

Rather than guessing, she should just ask Song Qingre directly. She ran through the questions to avoid slipping up.

Once she'd sorted it out, she sat beside Song Qingre and mentioned what she'd heard. "So, when I fought Luo Xi in high school—did you tell on me?" Worried Song Qingre might think she was picking a fight, she added, "It's in the past, and I'm not going to hold it against you. I just want to know what happened."

Song Qingre didn't answer, still painting the night sky. She rubbed her fingertips, set down the oil brush, mulled it over, and shook her head. "That was... a long time ago. I don't remember."

Yan Qingqiu looked at her in confusion, bending down to see her face. That couldn't be right—Luo Xi and Fu Ye both remembered. The person involved claiming not to remember was abnormal.

She stared at Song Qingre sharply, looking for micro-expressions. No matter what people say, expressions don't lie.

Song Qingre really didn't seem to want to answer. After being stared at for a while, she looked up without denying it, dipping her brush into the palette's paint. "Maybe it was me. I don't remember now—maybe I said it too many times back then."

"Ah?" Yan Qingqiu hadn't expected her to admit it so easily, even saying it happened many times. She looked at Song Qingre in fright. "Don't say that out of anger."

Don't do it. Don't steal the villainess's job.

Song Qingre said softly, "Compared to what I've forgotten, you've forgotten far more than I have, haven't you?" She looked at Yan Qingqiu. "I forget because I don't want to bring it up. What about you, Qiu Qiu?"

Yan Qingqiu's heart skipped a beat. She felt Song Qingre was a little angry.

Song Qingre switched to simpler words. "Do you really not remember why I went to Fu Ye about that?"

"..."

Forgotten. Can't remember.

Yan Qingqiu inwardly wailed: Idiot, you should've tested the waters before asking.

No, wait—Yan Qingqiu felt dizzy. How had the topic turned back to her? She just didn't know, that's why she was asking.

Since she couldn't answer, she started to act up, using irrationality as her best evasion. "I know, but I wanted to hear your take. After all, I was young back then, hot-blooded, and didn't see things clearly. My past actions—I've only come to regret them now, and I want to understand."

Song Qingre hummed and said, "You fought Luo Xi with the intention of making others regret it. At that time, your uncle's business was already in trouble. If you'd seriously injured Luo Xi, do you know what would've happened? The Luo family was much richer than your uncle's—they made their money in real estate. If you'd touched Luo Xi, her father would've written it on your record, and he'd definitely have had you sent to juvie. If I'd told Fu Ye directly, you'd have suffered a little, but you'd never dare try something like that again. If I'd made vague excuses to everyone and not told Fu Ye, next time you'd still pretend to be brave and tough for love and do something even more outrageous. If I'd truly wanted you to get in trouble, I'd have gone straight to the Luos or told your uncle, and that would've been that. What matters and what doesn't—you couldn't tell then, but do you understand now?"

That made sense.

It was the first time she'd heard Song Qingre speak so much in one go, and she felt like she'd been educated again. She nodded blankly.

After hearing it all, Yan Qingqiu agreed that Song Qingre had been right. To have a group of thugs surround a girl over a worthless man—that wasn't something a decent person would do.

Song Qingre really had given so much.

Yan Qingqiu felt a pang of sympathy.

"Didn't you guess it was me back then? Asking now—are you trying to confirm it?" Song Qingre curled her lips. "Coming to scold me now? It's a bit late."

"...No, that's not what I meant. I just wanted to know how disobedient I was back then." Yan Qingqiu said quietly, not daring to speak too harshly.

"Do you remember anything else? Anything that left a deep impression?" she asked cautiously.

Song Qingre thought for a moment. "No."

Then Song Qingre added, "So much happened back then. You humiliated me so much. I had to learn to forget some things."

Yan Qingqiu felt a lump in her throat. This time, she understood.

She remembered—she just didn't want to talk about it.

"Oh."

The deepest impression was the deepest wound, wasn't it?

She just didn't want to rehash the past.

"But it's possible I really did mention it to Fu Ye." Song Qingre kept painting as she spoke. "When people are angry and in pain, they'll do anything. I might have said something to him too."

"Anything else? If not, I'll keep painting."

"Go ahead, go ahead." Yan Qingqiu didn't know where to look, her gaze fixed on the canvas. Song Qingre set down stroke after stroke, incredibly gentle.

Then, gripping the brush, she dashed it across the canvas with force.

"Hey, why'd you ruin it?" Yan Qingqiu felt a pang of regret. The starry sky had looked so brilliant. She raised a hand to stop her.

Song Qingre said coldly, "Destroying beauty—this last starry night should be painted like this. And it should be painted this way."

Yan Qingqiu didn't understand art, but sitting there watching made her hands itch. She wanted to try too.

She peeked at Song Qingre again, thinking she was still angry. She felt a pang of remorse; she'd ruined the lovely atmosphere with her own mouth.

"Don't worry. I didn't believe Fu Ye's crap. I was just asking, out of curiosity. I already had my dad hire me bodyguards—I'm guarding against him. And I plan to cut ties with him completely. If he dares come near me an inch, I'll destroy him. Beat him to death."

Song Qingre added coolly, "He touched your gland last time."

Yan Qingqiu had nearly forgotten. She said fiercely, "I'll beat him to death."

Song Qingre continued painting until she finished, then went upstairs.

That evening, Yan Qingqiu returned to her own room and fiddled with a set of paints. She used white for the base, coating it cleanly, then dipped the brush in red oil paint and painted circles on top. After a few attempts, the wet colors smeared together.

The whole picture was a mess. She touched it up a little.

Clutching the brush, she thought of the night's frustrations and simply attacked the painting recklessly.

Indeed, adding emotion made it look right. It expressed all the painter's thoughts.

Tsk.

Not bad.

Yan Qingqiu dared say that if she had any fame, this painting would be a masterpiece for the ages.

The only problem was, her white pants got stained. Yan Qingqiu quickly set down the brush and ran to the bathroom to deal with the pants—she'd better not fail at art and ruin a pair of ten-thousand-yuan trousers.

She sent a message to Song Qingre, asking how to remove the stain. When there was no reply yet, she started to worry—was she really still angry?

She didn't seem like the kind to hold grudges.

·

Next door, Song Qingre set down the finished painting and dialed a number.

The call connected quickly.

"You told Qiu Qiu that the snitch was me." Song Qingre's tone was ice-cold, not a question but a statement.

Fu Ye was already panicked at her call, and her words left him stunned. He steadied himself and said, "Sorry, Qingre. I just..."

Song Qingre said nothing.

Fu Ye grew anxious and said in a low, firm voice, "I... I'm sorry. I just didn't want there to be a misunderstanding."

"There was no misunderstanding." Song Qingre continued, "You sought her out and said it was me."

"I..." Fu Ye's heart seized. He had indeed acted dishonorably. "Sorry, Qingre. Did Qiu Qiu give you a hard time?"

"A hard time? You choose words sharply."

Fu Ye knew he'd done her wrong. Song Qingre said, "A trivial matter, blown up by your meddling. Fu Ye, you've changed my view of you."

Her words carried disappointment, and in that disappointment, a disgust she couldn't quite voice.

More than Yan Qingqiu's aggression, her cold indifference was far more wounding. Fu Ye had no rebuttal. He could have stayed silent, but he couldn't resist calling, and his baseness was laid bare before Song Qingre.

"Because I saw you seemed to... about Qiu Qiu..."

Song Qingre hung up.

Fu Ye tried calling again, but the calls wouldn't connect. Indeed, this was his fault. When Yan Qingqiu pressed him earlier, he'd hesitated to say. But he felt Song Qingre's feelings for Yan Qingqiu had crossed a line. What did her call mean—a reprimand? Or a desire to win him back?

His feelings for Song Qingre were real, too. During those tangled days with Yan Qingqiu, it was Song Qingre who had healed him. She was his unattainable moonlight. And now he had wounded that moon.

Fu Ye felt he'd phrased it wrong. He shouldn't have said Song Qingre 'snitched'; rather, Song Qingre had cared for him and told him. He was just clumsy with words...

An hour later.

Deep in the night, two different phones received messages from the same person.

Fu Ye received: 【Qiu Qiu will probably bring bodyguards to talk to you tomorrow.】

Yan Qingqiu received: 【Bring your pants over later; I'll wash them for you.】

Just a few words, but enough to set the heart racing.

Is this concern?

The phone lay on the table, its screen dimming slowly until the room sank into silence—no wind, no light. Song Qingre sat on the edge of the bed, sinking into that colorless, desolate space. Falling deeper and deeper.

After a moment, she picked up the phone.

Song Qingre lowered her gaze, found the number on the screen, and dialed.

"Bodyguard service? Send over eighteen bodyguards tomorrow. The toughest, preferably ex-cons who've turned over a new leaf."