Chapter 36

Yan Qingqiu felt her wife-distribution plan was sheer genius.

She did the math on her phone: 365 doubled was 730. Seven hundred and thirty! If she dated one wife a day, it would take a full two years just to cycle through them all.

If she really clicked with one, wanted to spend more time with her, wanted other beauties to fight over her, but couldn't manage them all and couldn't give everyone equal attention—that would be a real headache.

Even though she currently had no wives and no plans to exchange for any, that didn't stop her from fantasizing about the good life with a harem.

If she exchanged this many for herself alone, it would be a bit embarrassing. But if Song Qingre wanted one, she'd have a reason to exchange them—it wasn't for her own use; she was helping Song Qingre get the funds for the trust.

Giving Song Qingre a wife gave her an excuse to exchange!

Yan Qingqiu excitedly asked: 【Song Qingre, do you want a wife?】

Song Qingre had no idea what kind of soul-level transformation her brain had gone through. At this reply, she looked at her phone screen, her gaze slightly darkened, and her typing speed picked up a bit.

Song Qingre: 【Do you think I want one?】

Yan Qingqiu: 【Don't go by what I think. It's what you think that matters.】

Song Qingre: 【I think you think.】

Yan Qingqiu paused a few seconds, then broke the back-and-forth: 【I think you want one. I can see you're lonely every day.】

Not knowing what Song Qingre was thinking, she sent a voice message.

"Ribbit ribbit ribbit, all alone."

Attached image: "A little frog."

Yan Qingqiu replied with a voice message: "Song Qingre, I think when it comes to wives, the best number is 365—wake up to a new one every morning."

"Hmm?" Song Qingre paused. "That many?"

"Yeah, a new feeling every day. I don't know if you can understand." Yan Qingqiu felt she might be a kindred spirit.

Song Qingre thought for a few minutes, then said: "You want 365 kinds of excitement? Every day wild and happy?"

Yan Qingqiu: "Yes! Exactly that!"

After a few seconds, Song Qingre replied: "Got it."

Yan Qingqiu felt more and more that Song Qingre was on the same page. "Glad you understand. Don't worry, I'll handle this. I don't want your money—consider it payment for helping me."

Song Qingre looked at this message and felt something strange, but she couldn't pinpoint what.

She gripped the armrest of her chair, a half-smile on her face, and looked up to ask Sheng Huajian: "If someone says they'll find you a wife and help you get your marriage fund, what do you think that means?"

Sheng Huajian remembered what was said on the card earlier and answered without hesitation: "Maybe they're thinking about getting married? If the person is too subtle, it might mean... they want to marry you."

"Pfft." Song Qingre laughed.

·

Before the chat ended, Yan Qingqiu didn't forget to mention dinner to Song Qingre.

Done, Yan Qingqiu put down her phone and leaned back. There was plenty of food by the massage chair. Her two assistants treated her like a difficult diva and always looked at her warily. Now that the office only had the two of them to serve her—and they'd seen her lose her temper plenty of times during her visits to the company—they felt uneasy.

Previously, the assistants often gossiped with colleagues about why someone as excellent as Director Su would be friends with such a lovesick fool, even treating her like royalty. It wasn't worth it for the director. They never expected that days later they'd be the ones to serve her.

They felt like they'd be ground down.

Exhausting.

While thinking this, they saw their "royal highness" Yan Qingqiu push the food toward them. Yan Qingqiu said warmly: "Eat with me."

She smiled slightly, her back to the window, her golden hair outlined brightly by the sunlight, her skin so smooth it begged to be touched. No wonder Jasmine kept saying she smelled nice—always catching a hint of clean cream.

The assistants were flustered by her beauty but tried to stay calm and eat. Then Yan Qingqiu suddenly asked: "Which models in your company are the most difficult to handle?"

The assistants almost bit their tongues. They didn't want to badmouth anyone, so they hemmed and hawed, looking at each other.

Yan Qingqiu said good-naturedly: "Go on, tell me. I'll avoid them. I know my place as a model under your President Su. And I won't spread it around, don't worry."

The assistant on the left had been at the company longer. Her name was Ji Xiangsi, a Beta.

Ji Xiangsi said: "The one with a bit of a temper is the foreign model Jasmine—Moli, the hot and spicy model. She got into a fight with someone at a show before, and Director Su went through a lot to save her. I don't think she dislikes you. Last time during your livestream, Director Su let her go too. She was furious before she left, but when she came back she said you were adorable and smelled nice."

'Smells nice and adorable'—those words weren't really necessary.

The other assistant saw her complicated expression and corrected: "She meant you're very A. She's been asking Director Su for your contact info for a while."

Yan Qingqiu nodded. That phrasing was more comfortable. "So your models all use flower names."

"Right. People say Director Su has good taste—no matter where a flower blooms, she'll pick it. In our company, we have Moli, Qiandao Gardenia, Qiang Wei. Qiang Wei has switched careers and is now a designer that Director Su supports. She's really capable—she made Qiang Wei a creative director. Then there are Fu Sang and Alice. Alice only rose after Qiang Wei left."

"What about Fu Sang?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

The roster was so complicated she was getting dizzy from all the flower names. She only remembered the dark-skinned hot model, Miaomiao.

"Fu Sang is fine, just a bit of a recent temper. A few days ago, President Su signed you, and she wanted to be with the agent. She wasn't happy and kept making a fuss to the director, but President Su didn't agree."

"Does she like your Director Su?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

"Well... we haven't heard that. We only hear gossip. I do know that Qiang Wei likes Director Su."

"Right," Xiao Die nodded. "Sister Qiang Wei definitely does."

Sure enough, gossip was the key to opening people's hearts. Sharing gossip instantly closed the distance, even with someone as notorious as Yan Qingqiu.

"In the past, models took forever to retire—lots of drama, refusing to admit they'd lost their market. But when Director Su said Qiang Wei's market was low and suggested she change careers early without forcing her, she switched immediately without any fuss."

"But Director Su was right. Soon after, the modeling trends changed. The companies she'd worked with changed management and quickly signaled they wouldn't renew. Models her age had no shows left. And her timing was good—many people felt sorry for her, thought she was a legend, and scrambled to bring her back."

The conversation wandered off, and Yan Qingqiu found it amusing. When she couldn't follow, she'd glance at the model show on TV. She'd met Qiang Wei a few times—a quiet, delicate-looking girl. She never would've guessed she used to be a model.

Ji Xiangsi said: "I don't know if Fu Sang likes President Su, but she depends on her a lot. Still, in this company and on the international stage, which model lifted up by President Su doesn't depend on her? Anyway, your signing might have offended her. I don't know if she'll target us."

Xiao Die said: "What are we afraid of? We have Director Su."

Yan Qingqiu patted her head. "You're the one who knows how to talk."

After the gossip, the two assistants got down to business, explaining the international fashion shows to her—which ones each year, which brands to collaborate with. Their company mainly did clothing, occasionally releasing designer bags and shoes. When not, they'd have models take other endorsements.

It was all over the place, making her, as the connection hire, dizzy.

Yan Qingqiu thought: Good thing I said upfront that I want to be a happy slacker, or I'd be working from day one.

"I believe in Miss Yan's charm. You can make it to the international shows."

"No, no, I'm just a noob."

Everyone burst out laughing. When Su Xingjie came back, she heard them still laughing.

"What are you all talking about?" Su Xingjie approached curiously, holding a vase with a bouquet of flowers.

The two assistants were a bit afraid of her and went quiet. Yan Qingqiu said: "Just chatting, telling jokes."

Hearing that, Su Xingjie sat down too. "Come on, tell me."

The two assistants were speechless—they wouldn't dare! Luckily Yan Qingqiu changed the subject: "Song Qingre agreed. We'll head over later. She wants hotpot."

"Hotpot's good. I don't feel like eating much tonight anyway."

Yan Qingqiu glanced at the two assistants beside her, thinking she'd treat them to a meal next time. Today it was just the three of them—too many people would turn it into a party, lacking sincerity.

At five in the evening, she left with Su Xingjie. Not many models were leaving the company. The company didn't enforce office hours; you came when you had business and could stay home otherwise. It was a laid-back job.

"Speaking of which, those eighteen hot models—why didn't you have them come see me?" Yan Qingqiu asked curiously, peeking into office after office. Those models had been flirting with her before, and she'd looked forward to them adding her. But they'd all gone quiet since, which was a shame.

Su Xingjie said: "They're out on a street shoot today, not in." Of course that wasn't true—the eighteen models were too rowdy. When they heard she'd signed Yan Qingqiu, they insisted on coming to see. Today Su Xingjie found a gig to send them all out.

Yan Qingqiu wasn't too disappointed. She'd be coming to work often and would run into them sooner or later.

Su Xingjie drove. They left early and avoided traffic, but Song Qingre's side was congested. They'd been waiting half an hour before anyone showed.

"Will she even come?" Su Xingjie asked worriedly. They'd had meals together before—either fights broke out in restaurants or Fu Ye suddenly appeared, ruining everyone's mood.

"She doesn't seem like the type to break a promise."

"I wonder if Fu Ye will show up."

"If he does, there's a traitor among us."

"Hahaha, Qiu Bao, you're so funny now."

They waited another half hour. It got dark. Song Qingre arrived with someone—Ye Sichun.

Yan Qingqiu didn't know her well; they were at the stage where she could pick her out of a crowd.

Ye Sichun was very warm, coming straight up to greet her: "Hey, my princess. How've you been? It's been ages since you came for a haircut."

Yan Qingqiu still wore the glowing rabbit ears the hostess had given her at the door, a little purple light blinking on her head. She tossed her hair and said: "I've been busy being a model. I'm okay. What about you? Anything new?"

The two talked in a very businesslike way, which made Ye Sichun laugh. She sat down and said: "Princess, don't talk like that, like we're strangers. Don't forget how many times I've done your hair."

Yan Qingqiu smiled at her.

Ye Sichun wasn't a wild person, but she had a bit more edge than Song Qingre's gentleness. Song Qingre was quiet—if you didn't approach her, she wouldn't speak, keeping a comfortable distance.

Ye Sichun was different. She was outgoing, greeting people first, flirting with every line. Just like someone in the beauty business.

"After your last livestream, your products got pretty hot. Several VIP clients want to get stock from me. Think we could talk with your company? I hope you'll give me a backdoor," Ye Sichun said with a smile.

"Sure. My dad's new products are out too. I'll have him set some aside for you." Yan Qingqiu replied generously.

Ye Sichun pulled out her phone. "Add my personal account. The one you had before was handled by my assistant. Let's talk directly."

"OK."

The other two at the table stayed mostly quiet. Ye Sichun livened things up: "Don't you guys want to order? Go ahead, you've been sitting here like statues."

Ye Sichun was close with Song Qingre and politely passed the menu to Su Xingjie first.

Su Xingjie was a designer herself; the company's stylists went everywhere, so she had no need for beauty treatments.

They'd met before but hadn't talked much.

Ye Sichun said: "I was supposed to mooch off Song Qingre, but it turned out I'm mooching off you. Doesn't matter—mooching off any of you is the same."

At that, Song Qingre, who'd been silent, moved her lips and said with a smile: "You're always so good at freeloading."

Yan Qingqiu eyed them sharply. "Are you two plotting something shady? You both seem wicked."

"No way." Ye Sichun thought about telling her but worried Song Qingre would call her a blabbermouth, so she hesitated.

Song Qingre didn't stop her; she spoke up first: "Today she saw Fu Ye with his new fling."

Yan Qingqiu swore directly: "Damn, he's such trash."

Ye Sichun said: "If Luo Xi could let go like you, her admirers would line up to France. By the way, want some drinks?"

Song Qingre spoke: "She doesn't drink much. Bring some fresh-squeezed orange juice."

The juice came, and Yan Qingqiu stood up, calling everyone to raise their glasses together.

Glasses clinked.

Yan Qingqiu felt the atmosphere was good—they could get along fine, right?

This decision of hers was a good one.

The whole meal was mostly Ye Sichun and Yan Qingqiu talking. On the way out, Ye Sichun complained she was just the warm-up act.

But she still thanked Yan Qingqiu for the meal.

Yan Qingqiu walked out with Su Xingjie and asked her opinion—Song Qingre was pretty nice, right? Su Xingjie nodded, for the first time not stopping her from going home with Song Qingre. She gave Song Qingre the handbag she'd been carrying for a while. Song Qingre looked at it, puzzled.

"Your coat."

Song Qingre nodded. Yan Qingqiu had wanted to hint she should look inside but felt too awkward, so she kept quiet.

The two got in the car. As Song Qingre was about to start the engine, Yan Qingqiu called out.

"Wait. Hey, do you have a type?" Yan Qingqiu didn't ask too directly about wives, but circled around to 'ideal type.' She'd been holding it in all night, wanting to discuss this.

"Hmm?" Song Qingre looked at her, not understanding. The rabbit ears on her head glowed brightly in the unlit car.

"I mean, what kind of personality do you like?" Yan Qingqiu tilted her head, making the rabbit ears bob.

"Oh, that kind of ideal..." Song Qingre thought seriously, her gaze slowly drifting to Yan Qingqiu's face, her eyes slightly teasing. The moonlight outside shrouded the whole night, slowly encroaching.

"Think carefully," Yan Qingqiu urged. "Stop staring at me."

Song Qingre looked at her seriously. Yan Qingqiu couldn't read her thoughts. Song Qingre said softly: "Can you even find one for me? In this sea of people, finding your ideal type is pretty hard."

Yan Qingqiu thought, I'll exchange 730 wives—730 beauties! I won't believe I can't find one to your taste.

"Don't underestimate me. I'm just worried the looks might be off, so I'm asking you." She said confidently: "When it comes to finding wives, I'm quite talented."

"Is that so?" Song Qingre nodded, leaning back. "Very talented indeed."

"So tell me—what kind of wife do you like? I'll help you pick." As she chatted, Yan Qingqiu remembered: "You can draw, right? Just draw it out. Your drawings are beautiful. I can find not just your ideal type, but even your fantasy type."

"Draw it?" Song Qingre laughed. "What, can you find me an exact match?"

"Of course." Yan Qingqiu thought she'd hold Song Qingre's drawing to sleep tonight and think hard, filling her mind with images of Song Qingre's wife—surely that would satisfy her. Hahaha.

Yan Qingqiu realized she wasn't great at studying, but when it came to wives—especially beautiful women—she dared say no one dared to claim first place except her.

She was the undisputed genius.

"If I draw it, you'll find me one?" Song Qingre double-checked. "Whatever I draw, you'll find it?"

"Yes." Very confident.

"What if you can't?" Song Qingre asked.

"That's impossible. Unless..." Unless the System had issues.

Song Qingre said: "Then you'll owe me one."

"..."

Yan Qingqiu wasn't so sure anymore. She said to the System: 【If you don't produce an identical wife, I'll never believe you again.】

System: 【Host.】

It sounded serious.

Yan Qingqiu: 【What, can't do it?】

System: 【No, it's just that this is the first time I've seen you this... wild. You've truly lost all restraint. No one in all of humanity is as shameless as you.】

Yan Qingqiu: 【Thanks for the compliment, but I don't appreciate it.】

After talking to the System, she looked back at Song Qingre, who hadn't spoken. She asked: 【So?】

When Song Qingre didn't answer, she remembered that Song Qingre couldn't communicate telepathically. She said aloud: "You don't have no idea what kind of person you like, do you?"

She added: "Men are off the table. I can only find women."

"Mm."

"Figured it out yet?"

Song Qingre nodded. Yan Qingqiu pulled out her notebook to jot down her preferences. Song Qingre said: "This notebook really has everything. It's got all sorts."

Yan Qingqiu had filled over half a small notebook. "I was never this serious during school."

As she said it, she froze—did she say something wrong?

"You really weren't serious in school," Song Qingre said.

"Drawing now might be slow. I can only do a rough outline at the moment. Oil painting a person is a hassle, and I don't have the time. Not to mention, my mind's blank. Can't think of anything. Tsk, you've drained my imagination."

"That's my fault. Don't draw an outline then." Yan Qingqiu quickly stopped her—what if her mind wandered to something bad, like a skeleton? Then the wife she exchanged might be too revealing.

"Be more specific. Do you have a photo? Like, which beauty's lips you like, which one's waist... Describe it in detail..."

"Lips like yours, waist like yours... all fine." Song Qingre looked at her, eyes traveling from top to bottom. "I'm not picky."

Even though Yan Qingqiu sometimes felt wild enough to want to sleep with herself, thinking she was the most beautiful thing in the world, she really wasn't twisted enough to exchange herself and do something like that.

And now it wasn't even about doing it to herself—it was giving herself to someone else. That was a bit much. She couldn't do it. She was still a bit timid.

Song Qingre said seriously: "You're so sudden. The more I think, the blurrier my mind gets. I can't picture it, so I can only use you as a reference. Just now I was thinking someone a bit prettier than you, but on reflection, I can't seem to find anyone prettier. It's quite troubling."

"When you put it that way, I'm..." Yan Qingqiu stopped thinking. "I'm speechless."

After all that talk, Yan Qingqiu got a message from Su Xingjie saying she'd arrived home and asking if they'd arrived.

Song Qingre glanced at the message and sighed: "My mind's a mess right now, full of you. You've ruined my ideal type. So annoying."

Yan Qingqiu was afraid she'd made things worse. She opened her mouth but didn't know what to say. "Then don't think about it for now. Head home. Think on the way."

Song Qingre was about to drive, but Yan Qingqiu offered: "I'll drive, I'll drive. You think."

They both got out and swapped. Before they did, Song Qingre pinched her ear. Yan Qingqiu felt her own mind going fuzzy from all this talk. As she gripped the wheel, she was nervous.

Yan Qingqiu drove slowly, and this time she met another newbie. They both drove like they were racing to be slow. Horns blared behind them. Yan Qingqiu's hands sweated from the pressure, and she drove even slower.

"No rush. Just take your time," Song Qingre said.

They got home around nine-thirty. Yan Fu and the butler were still awake, watching TV in the living room. They smiled at them when they entered, and Yan Qingqiu felt her dad's smile was even more suggestive.

Yan Qingqiu didn't go in right away. She stood in the yard talking to Song Qingre. "There's something I'm not sure I should tell you."

"Go ahead."

Song Qingre stood by the car, the vehicle between them. "If you want to say it, say it directly. No need to hide anything from me."

"It's just... today I heard from my dad that your parents' fund wasn't specifically for marriage. It's a secret between you two—related to the bakery. Your parents prepared it for you."

As she said this, Song Qingre didn't reply. She'd been smiling at her, but now she froze slightly, then slowly turned her head away without a word.

Yan Qingqiu wasn't sure whether to keep probing. She sensed Song Qingre's mood shift and thought she'd touched a sore spot, so she pressed her lips together.

"Seems Qiuqiu really doesn't remember a lot," Song Qingre said, a faint smile curving her lips, looking bitter in the dark night.

Yan Qingqiu hadn't unlocked much of the plot yet; she genuinely didn't know.

"I was too young back then," Yan Qingqiu said, though she felt it was a poor excuse—being young didn't make loss any easier. "Tell me, and I'll remember soon."

"When you were little, you loved watching Kiki's Delivery Service. You thought flying on a broom was adorable. You'd ride a broom around the house every day, running from your place to mine, saying you'd grow up to open a bakery and have your dad buy you one."

"Then why did your dad set up the fund?"

Light from the living room spilled out, casting long shadows of the two.

She was curious but didn't voice it.

Song Qingre, however, saw through her thoughts and said: "Uncle was busy then. You played at my place all day, sometimes even sleeping over. Your dad never got the chance to hear."

Yan Qingqiu felt a pang of nostalgia. Song Qingre's father was wonderful too—he'd guarded a child's dream. It was a shame, such a shame.

He'd died too young.

Yan Fu waited until they came into the living room before speaking, unable to hide the joy in his eyes.

"You two ate out together?"

"I'm going to shower." Yan Qingqiu didn't want to answer. She ran upstairs, glanced at Song Qingre, and signaled with her eyes: you go shower and sleep too.

Song Qingre didn't see it, but Yan Fu did. He nodded at her. "I know."

"..."

Great.

Dad, if you keep being this nosy, I'll become a woman who never comes home—I'll wander the streets.

Yan Qingqiu waited for Song Qingre to come upstairs before she opened her door, making a show of going to her room for Yan Fu.

She walked in and whispered to Song Qingre beside her: "Unless necessary, don't let us meet at night."

"Mm?" Song Qingre frowned.

Yan Qingqiu said: "Let's be a bit sneaky. Dad's old. If we wake him, he'll overthink. You don't want to be pressured into having kids at your age, do you?"

Song Qingre pressed her lips together.

Song Qingre pushed open her door. She didn't turn on the light, just used her phone flashlight to walk to the bedroom. She didn't shower either, but lay heavily on the bed.

She remembered a lot.

Back then she was also young, curious about everything, with many secrets in her heart.

When she had secrets, she liked to draw them out. For a while, she drew bakeries every day. When Song Zhong checked her homework and saw them, he curiously asked what they were. She stammered, unable to explain, and hid them from him.

Song Zhong asked if she wanted to be a bakery owner when she grew up. Song Qingre was embarrassed and shook her head.

He said seriously: "Is opening a bakery Little Re's dream? That's a wonderful dream. Little Re can have her own shop like mommy. Just thinking about it makes me proud of you."

Song Qingre nodded, then shook her head. She said softly: "It's not like mommy's. It's Qiuqiu who wants a bakery."

"Then why are you drawing it if Qiuqiu wants it?" Daddy asked gently.

Song Qingre thought for a long time before speaking slowly: "I don't know either. It's just—whenever Qiuqiu wants something, I want to give it to her. I feel so strange... I just want to be with her every day. I want to give her a bakery, and I don't want other customers to come. Every day she'd bake bread for me, or I'd bake for her. And I'd open the shop next to mommy's flower shop—Qiuqiu says flowers smell nice."

Adolescent kids always have many worries. Song Qingre sighed as she spoke, looking very troubled.

But adults are always clever. Song Zhong understood immediately and chuckled. He nodded knowingly, rubbed her head, and said: "Maybe you'll understand when you grow up."

"Don't tell anyone, and don't tell Qiuqiu..." Song Qingre said quietly, "I'm afraid... I just don't want her to know."

"And I hate it when Qiuqiu calls other people 'sister.' I don't know why. Now I call her 'Qiuqiu jiejie,' but I still don't want her calling others by that. But it doesn't work. Daddy, I'm so weird. When she plays with others, I can't help but get angry."

"Angry about what?"

"Just... wanting Qiuqiu to see no one else, only me."

That day she voiced many worries and begged her father not to tell anyone.

"Mm, this is our little secret. Don't worry about the bakery—I'll talk to mommy, and we'll open it next to her flower shop. And whenever you have worries in the future, come tell Daddy."

Daddy stuck out his pinky, and Song Qingre let out a heavy breath before linking hers with his. After the pinky promise, the stone on her chest lifted.

Afterward, Daddy taught her to draw, and together they added mommy's flower shop to the picture. Mommy knocked to bring fruit—she'd cut yellow peaches, juicy peaches, and watermelon... then asked what would look nice by the door.

The memory broke off. Song Qingre lifted her chin, grabbed a pillow, and pressed it over her face, fingers pressing down hard. The suffocation pulled her from the memory. After a long moment, she removed the pillow.

Yan Qingqiu went back to her room to shower. She'd just untied her bath towel when a knock came at the door.

She frowned slightly, thinking the knocking was loud enough to break the door. She opened it, puzzled—she'd just warned Song Qingre to be discreet unless necessary, and here she was knocking directly. How rude.

Song Qingre stood outside, looking like she had nothing important to say, but her serene face clearly read: Why so slow? Let's make a baby.

"What's up? Why knock so loud? Trying to make my dad misunderstand?" Yan Qingqiu looked around, half-expecting her father to be eavesdropping somewhere.

Song Qingre said: "Urgent. Very urgent." Then she pulled an envelope from her pocket and handed it to Yan Qingqiu, saying solemnly: "Think about these photos. Be wild."

Yan Qingqiu immediately caught on. "How wild?"

"You do your thing."

"No wonder you knocked so hard—you were missing your wife."

Song Qingre paused, then nodded with a hum. "Is it difficult?"

Funny—she knew everything except how wild she herself could be.

"Not for me." Yan Qingqiu said seriously: "I'm just afraid you won't be able to handle it."

Yan Qingqiu took the photos back inside. She had to see what Song Qingre's ideal type looked like—that thick stack.

It was getting late, ten o'clock. Yan Qingqiu wasn't the night owl she used to be; she had a real job now and needed to sleep early for work the next day.

But she felt obligated to think about Song Qingre's marriage prospects. She turned on the bedside lamp, opened the bag, and pulled out the photos. Soon she was shocked—they were all of her.

Some showed her talking to Su Xingjie, some on the swing at home, some were commercial shots, and there was even one of her from today, eating hotpot with the glowing hair clip.

Yan Qingqiu was dumbfounded. Was Song Qingre having her stalked? Did she hand over the wrong photos?

But Song Qingre wasn't dumb enough to have her photographed and then give her the photos, right?

And... this was her ideal type?

Her phone by the bed lit up. A message from Song Qingre.

【Just grabbed a few random photos—couldn't find any complete ones of you facing the camera. Will that affect your work?】

Yan Qingqiu: 【No need. I've got it under control.】

Song Qingre: 【If possible, one small request: as for the wife's attire, I'd like it to seem half-worn, like it's about to fall apart—that fragile look.】

Yan Qingqiu acknowledged, thinking she could go all out—maybe buy some sexy lingerie, the fragile kind. Song Qingre was being modest. Not just half-dressed; she could make it seem like a real person. She'd buy a glowing cat-ear hair clip and a tail, then sway over to Song Qingre, not speaking but meowing: "Meow~"

She was getting fired up just thinking about it. Yan Qingqiu opened a shopping app, ready to order, but in an instant, her brain snapped back to reality.

Am I insane? Why am I thinking about how sexy I am while staring at my own photos? I've lost it!

The consequence of her wild thoughts was a dream that night. She dreamed she turned into a cat, crouching on the table beside Song Qingre, who was painting quietly. She meowed too loudly, too seductively, and kept pawing at Song Qingre.

Song Qingre sat gently in the moonlight—she couldn't see what she was painting, but she heard what the cat was saying. Her long fingers pressed on the cat's belly, flipping it over, and said: "Little cat in heat, huh? Want me to help with a paintbrush?"

Yan Qingqiu woke with a start. Damn it. I'm not human!

So shameless!

She sat up in bed, looking at the mirror—the face reflected was the same as in the photos beside her. She picked up the photo she'd slept with and compared it to her reflection.

Yan Qingqiu rubbed her face. The System in her head chimed like an alarm: 【Have you decided yet? Any thoughts on exchanging a wife today?】

She asked the System: 【Hey, my mind's a mess right now. If I exchange a wife, will she be missing an arm or a leg? Or will she come out as a cat?】

The System was impatient: 【Why are you so wishy-washy? You've been hesitating for days over exchanging one wife. I've never seen anyone like you.】

Yan Qingqiu: 【Did others get this treatment before? Did others exchange 365 wives?】

System: 【No. You're the first.】

【This is a psychological desire, not a rational one. Don't worry. If you're going to exchange, hurry up. You're so annoying.】

Yan Qingqiu: 【It's not that I won't. Think about it—365 wives. Even if I did nothing with them, I'd need a place for them. One hotel can't fit them all! I don't have the money to support them!】

She heard the System sigh deeply.

【Right? Right?】

System: 【You've got some brains. But use them: doesn't your father have empty houses? Ask him.】

Yan Qingqiu felt grumpy at being scolded. She reluctantly got dressed and went downstairs. Yan Fu was up earlier than her, reading the morning paper. Yan Qingqiu waved at him. "Morning, Dad."

Yan Fu nodded, absorbed in his paper, keeping an eye on the stock market.

Yan Qingqiu hesitated over how to bring up the house. She wandered around, then came to Yan Fu's side, leaning on the sofa armrest. She looked at the paper, mentioned Yu Sichun's order, then added casually: "Dad, do you have any empty houses?"

"Why?" Yan Fu looked at her, puzzled.

Yan Qingqiu said: "Just... with my job now, I want to invite friends over sometimes. Maybe stay a few days."

Yan Fu didn't think much of it. He turned a page. "You young people do make a lot of noise."

Yan Qingqiu bit her lip. She knew her dad would misunderstand—no matter what, he'd overthink.

She silently blamed Song Qingre: I told you not to knock so loudly yesterday.

"How big a house?" Yan Fu spoke casually, not thinking deeply. He spoiled his daughter; whatever conditions Yan Qingqiu had, he'd satisfy. Besides, girls needed to socialize—she should show off a bit.

"Just big..." Yan Qingqiu had no particular idea.

Yan Fu nodded. "I'll find the biggest one for you. There is a house I've never lived in."

"A wife needs a good home. I've got one about 850 square meters; that should be enough for you..."

He didn't finish. Upstairs, a door opened, and Song Qingre came out, wearing a chic black-and-white trench coat with strong design elements.

Song Qingre saw everyone downstairs staring at her and greeted them.

Yan Qingqiu looked at her, feeling proud of her taste—that model show hadn't been wasted; the coat really suited her. Yan Fu looked at her, surprised: his daughter had learned to give gifts?

Clothes, and now a house... Was this a wedding house?

He smiled, thinking how slow he was. He glanced from Yan Qingqiu to Song Qingre, then back, imagining them living together. "Should be enough."

Yan Qingqiu thought: 850 square meters, one square meter per wife—that's not quite enough. So she'd only exchange 365.

She tentatively shook her head. "...How many floors? One floor probably isn't enough. It won't be just one or two people; there'll be a lot."

Yan Fu didn't understand at first. The butler came over and whispered something in his ear. Yan Fu let out an "oh," then said earnestly: "I'm not that old-fashioned."

He had the butler bring out all the house keys, intending to let them pick wherever they wanted, and if it wasn't enough, he'd buy more.

"...Well, then, good." Yan Qingqiu breathed a sigh of relief, looking at the butler and Yan Fu with gratitude, incredibly nervous, palms sweating. Was she really going to exchange wives? Was she brave enough?

Yan Fu put down the paper, turned his head, and whispered probing: "So, how many kids do you want to have with Little Re?"