Chapter 48

From inside the room, only sighs could be heard. Song Qingre opened the box, and Yan Qingqiu, peering through the crack, caught a glimpse of the ring inside—a large pearl, her favorite kind of jewelry. After her 365 wives had been reclaimed, the purple pearls had vanished along with them; at the time, she'd felt rather regretful about that.

Song Qingre held two boxes. She opened one for a moment, then closed it again, so briefly.

Yan Qingqiu wasn't someone who cared much for jewelry, but now she couldn't help wanting to admire it, itching with curiosity.

Song Qingre said, "I know I should fight for it myself, but... I can feel that Qiuqiu is still very cautious about this kind of thing. I can't pressure her like Fu Ye did. Marriage is something solemn and romantic; if I forced her, then... I'd become the villain in her heart. I want to leave the best impression of myself with her. Don't say things like that again."

The person on the other end sounded confused. "If someone's eavesdropping, cough once and I'll hang up right away."

Song Qingre didn't cough. "After all these years, I wonder if she even understands my heart... Ah, you're asking if I'm suffering? I'm not. She's become so wonderful now, which makes her feel even more out of reach. I've grown humble in front of her..."

Her voice was soft, as if she'd become the dust of lowly love from a book, drifting aimlessly, without anchor.

She put away the ring boxes, gripping her phone as she stood on the balcony where the cold wind blew, stirring her hair. Yan Qingqiu unconsciously inched forward; the door pushed inward with a creak.

"Who—who's there?" Song Qingre asked, her voice turning urgent. She hung up hastily, her gaze darting toward the door.

Yan Qingqiu stood there holding the items, nervous beyond belief. She wanted to run but didn't dare. Swallowing hard, she steadied herself and said, "Me, what's wrong? I just got here."

Song Qingre came out in her coat, a thick black overcoat, and gave Yan Qingqiu a once-over.

"Oh."

Yan Qingqiu handed her the water; her palm was slightly red from the heat. She rubbed it, then hid it in her sleeve, fearing Song Qingre would notice. Song Qingre took a sip and said, "It's warm."

When she'd brought it up, it had been hot; she'd eavesdropped so long it had cooled considerably. Yan Qingqiu said, "Yes, I mixed in cool water on purpose."

Song Qingre took the pills she offered, asked nothing, and swallowed them dry. Then she said, "Thank you, Qiuqiu."

Yan Qingqiu thought, she really trusts me.

The two stood at the door talking. Yan Qingqiu couldn't hold back—she wanted to test the waters. Those words Song Qingre had said, she probably didn't want anyone to hear, that flustered, helpless look... Yan Qingqiu couldn't help herself; her mouth ran off. "So... what were you doing in there just now? Why did you get so startled?"

She watched Song Qingre's expression, hoping to catch her panicking. Song Qingre did choke—she coughed into her hand, wiping the corner of her lips. "Just chatting with a friend. He brought up the Fu family, wondering if we could take Fu Ye down."

Yan Qingqiu thought to herself: quite convincing. If I hadn't overheard it, you'd have fooled me.

She'd thought Song Qingre would be better at hiding it, but she was just as full of holes.

Song Qingre wouldn't even look at her. Yan Qingqiu couldn't help leaning in, staring at Song Qingre's eyes. Song Qingre's lashes fluttered, sweeping across the skin beneath her eyes.

Song Qingre refused to meet her gaze. The white porcelain cup was already empty, yet she still lifted it to her lips, pretending to drink a few drops.

"Good?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

Song Qingre nodded.

Yan Qingqiu was dying to laugh, barely suppressing it as she breathed deep.

"Really... you didn't do anything in there?" Yan Qingqiu pressed.

Song Qingre countered, "It was so short, what could I do?"

"Mm..." Yan Qingqiu drew the sound out, just an hm, saying nothing more. But her smile was wicked as she kept staring at Song Qingre's face, slowly moving closer. She knew Song Qingre was playing dumb—because whenever she faced a question she couldn't answer, she'd deflect with something lewd too.

"Maybe don't lean so close; I've got a cold, wouldn't want to pass it to you." Song Qingre said, pressing a finger to her lips.

"Fine." Yan Qingqiu stepped back, but her eyes still lingered on Song Qingre.

Downstairs, Yan Fu had just returned. The rain had picked up again, and his clothes were damp. He handed his coat to the butler, then looked up. "What are those two doing up there?"

"Not sure. They've been standing there for a while. The young lady kept moving in close; I thought they were about to kiss, so I had the maids retreat." The butler gave a regretful smile. "But they didn't end up doing it."

Yan Fu was rather pleased. "Qiuqiu made the move, huh? I thought she'd need her old dad to put in a word for her to get the upper hand again."

The butler thought that was a misunderstanding, but since so much time had passed, bringing it up again would only be awkward, so he let Yan Fu believe what he wanted.

At dinner, Yan Qingqiu still didn't let up. She kept looking at Song Qingre, like she'd discovered someone's secret and had to tease them with a knowing glance.

To Yan Fu, it looked like the two were exchanging flirtatious looks. He couldn't stand their sickly-sweet display, so he picked up a piece of garlic pork rib for Yan Qingqiu.

"Qiuqiu, eat."

Yan Qingqiu took a bite—it was tasty. She picked up another piece for Song Qingre. "Song Xiaore, eat."

Song Qingre looked at the rib, then at her. She pinched it and took a small bite; juice coated her lips, and she licked them.

"Good?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

Song Qingre nodded and said it was good.

Yan Fu watched them still exchanging glances. He thought about how, at his age, he had to eat their dog food—happy but tired. He asked, "Qiuqiu, if you have something to say, just say it properly. Don't be so mysterious."

Yan Qingqiu thought, Dad, I can't tell you—it's Song Xiaore's secret. Song Xiaore wants to marry me, but she's too timid; she doesn't dare say it...

She spooned soup over her rice and ate, feeling this was the happiest day of her life.

That evening, everyone ate their fill. Rain pattered softly outside, and Yan Qingqiu couldn't go out. Bored at home, she went to her room, took out the canvas the butler had set up for her, and tried to paint a bit. Without any real foundation, she just smeared the paint around randomly.

Thump—

Thump, thump—

A knock came, then a pause, then another. The person outside wanted to come in but didn't dare; even their knocking hesitated.

Yan Qingqiu set down her brush and opened the door. Song Qingre held a book, her fingers pressing hard against the cover. "Can I read here for a while?"

"Sure." Yan Qingqiu nodded.

The room was brightly lit. Song Qingre's shadow stretched across the floor as she entered. Yan Qingqiu's bedroom had a hanging chair, but she was always too busy to sit in it. Song Qingre didn't wander; she settled into the chair, clutching her book.

Yan Qingqiu continued painting, stealing glances at Song Qingre. Song Qingre wasn't reading seriously either—sometimes she'd cautiously peek over at her.

She must be wondering if I heard what she said.

If I told her I did, would she die of embarrassment?

Yan Qingqiu thought, this woman, Song Qingre—once you get close to her, you realize how different she is inside from how she appears. Before, Song Qingre was unattainable, moonlight in the sky; the male lead couldn't touch her, and the villainess didn't dare look up.

Yan Qingqiu wanted to stir up trouble; her bones itched with mischief.

Now she knew—Song Qingre had her own shyness too, got nervous when her secrets were discovered. Yan Qingqiu felt like a tease, wanting to bully Song Qingre, loving the sight of her flustered and uncertain.

Song Qingre clutched her book and walked over to stand beside her, clearly wanting to say something but not daring.

"What's wrong?" Yan Qingqiu stopped what she was doing, taking the initiative to coax her into confessing. She lowered her voice, trying to sound gentle. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"I..." Song Qingre's voice caught, a hint of fluster crossing her delicate face. She took a deep breath, her gaze landing on the easel nearby. She swallowed a few times. "Could you give me your painting?"

"Huh?" Yan Qingqiu wondered if her ears were playing tricks on her. Why isn't she talking about marriage? Is she shy? She gripped her brush, looking at her paint-stained fingers and the messy white cloth she'd been working on. "Are you sure you want my painting?"

"If it's too sudden, I can trade you—my painting for yours."

Yan Qingqiu was self-aware enough to know her painting wasn't worth much. "No need to trade. I can just give it to you."

"Mm."

"Anything else?" Yan Qingqiu kept staring at her, stepping closer, lowering her voice to probe once more.

She was practically telling Song Qingre: we're all friends here, don't be afraid, just say it.

Song Qingre shook her head. "Nothing else."

Yan Qingqiu could barely wait, but Song Qingre's lips were sealed shut. "Then I'll give it to you when I'm done. It should take me..." How long did painters take? She mused, "Two days."

"Fine." Song Qingre returned to the hanging chair, and this time she started reading. Yan Qingqiu's focus faltered.

Song Qingre looked at her, then fell asleep in the chair, book in hand.

Song Qingre actually fell asleep?

Yan Qingqiu hadn't expected that.

Song Qingre's eyes were closed, breathing even. Probably because of her cold; a slight heaviness to her breath could be heard.

Yan Qingqiu tiptoed to the bathroom to wash her hands, turning the water to a trickle. Coming back, she couldn't move past her, staring down at her. She called out softly, patting her shoulder, and heard Song Qingre mumbling something in her sleep.

"Marry... marry..."

At first Yan Qingqiu didn't catch it. She only heard the first syllable; the rest she filled in with her imagination. She fetched a small blanket and draped it over Song Qingre, then sat beside her like a monk, serene and detached, watching her.

But her serenity didn't last. Song Qingre carried a faint fragrance—damp citrus—and her warmth seemed higher than before. Yan Qingqiu wanted to stay aloof, but she couldn't control her body, tilting toward Song Qingre to breathe in that sweet scent.

She brushed a strand of hair from Song Qingre's cheek and looked at her clean profile, pressing her fingertip to that soft skin. She wanted to kiss her so badly.

But kissing someone in their sleep didn't feel right; it seemed creepy.

Then again, why hold yourself to such high standards?

Yan Qingqiu pressed her lips together, got up to fetch the remote—she just wanted to dim the lights, so they wouldn't bother Song Qingre's eyes.

She glanced back and saw the warm light falling on Song Qingre, gently outlining her silhouette. The system was always going on about setting the mood—this was the real mood. She could barely hold herself back.

Before, she'd always been controlled by her heat, her body hot and burning. Now, even though that period had passed, the heat in her heart hadn't faded. She turned off the light, then came back, sitting on the floor. After the rain, the house was damp, the floor cold beneath her. She leaned gently onto the hanging chair beside Song Qingre; the chair swayed slowly, unsteady.

She wanted to talk to her.

Song Qingre seemed truly asleep, eyes closed, a few strands of hair falling across her cheek, breathing quietly, the book resting on her chest like a sleeping beauty from a fairy tale. She wondered—if she kissed her, would she wake up?

Yan Qingqiu's upper body swayed with the chair. Marriage... what a bold idea. She didn't even dare think about it. No wonder Song Qingre hadn't said it—it was too daring.

Her thoughts drifted with the swaying. At some point, she dreamed she was getting married. Guests filled the wedding, and Su Xingjie, leaning against the flower arch in a pink bridesmaid dress, sobbed her heart out, saying congratulations over and over. Beside her, her father's eyes reddened.

Then she reached the priest, and her bride stood in a white gown, quietly gazing at her from amid scattered petals. With the priest's blessing, she lifted the bride's veil.

Under the veil, the bride's eyes were bright, like blooming cherry blossoms. Yan Qingqiu was stunned; all around, people chanted, "Kiss, kiss!"

Kiss... the bride...

Yan Qingqiu leaned in to her bride, who smiled gently at her. Maybe her memory was off, but the bride looked impossibly young, like an eighteen-year-old girl, not fully mature, yet her smile was the most tender thing.

The dream shifted, and she was held in an embrace amidst swirling pink cherry blossoms. She let out a soft moan, dizzy, feeling like she was being picked up. She blinked awake groggily, seeing Song Qingre's profile through hazy eyes, her clean jawline framing her beauty.

She thought, this is what beauty is—it can always tempt her.

"Song Qingre..."

"Mm, it's me."

"Song Xiaore?"

"That's me too."

"Are you... getting old?" Yan Qingqiu asked muzzily.

Song Qingre laid her on the bed, speaking softly, her breath brushing Yan Qingqiu's ear. "Not old—just withering from the wait."

···

After three days of rain, it finally cleared. But winter had set in, and it was still chilly outside.

When she woke early, Yan Qingqiu's head still ached. She sat up in bed, trying to recall what happened yesterday, worried she'd forgotten something again.

Luckily, she still remembered her dream—she'd dreamed she was getting married, and the bride seemed to be Song Qingre.

How embarrassing.

After a while, the bathroom door opened, and Song Qingre stepped out, her hair washed, towel drying it.

"Oh, by the way, it got cold last night, so I didn't wake you to bathe. Want to go wash up?"

Yan Qingqiu got out of bed, grabbed a change of clothes from the wardrobe, and couldn't help stealing glances at Song Qingre. Song Qingre let out a soft sigh. "Qiuqiu, stop teasing me."

"I'm not," Yan Qingqiu said with a laugh as she headed into the bathroom. Stripping off, she studied herself in the mirror. While filming that ad, she kept thinking—were her breasts getting bigger? Would it hurt her career? Su Xingjie had told her not to misunderstand the modeling world: a lot of models look flat because they control their figure, while the sexy, curvaceous ones often became the most famous. She'd told her not to be prejudiced.

Yan Qingqiu felt her body was at its peak—she'd always been a bombshell, raised on milk, well-developed, soft and creamy. Now she seemed to have shed her skin, becoming an even more exquisite seductress: slender waist, fair delicate skin, firm round rear. She turned on the shower, letting the water soak her thoroughly, hot streams flowing over her body, a muffled moan escaping her red lips.

She came out, and Song Qingre was still there. Yan Qingqiu's face burned—she felt like Song Qingre had seen her in the shower.

Song Qingre squeezed her half-dried hair, curling the ends around her fingers, gently pressing them. Yan Qingqiu's heart raced. Song Qingre had been blow-drying—surely she hadn't heard anything from inside.

Song Qingre handed her the dryer, and Yan Qingqiu dried her own hair. She noticed the noise wasn't loud; if you listened carefully, you might catch faint sounds from someone else. But she'd been so quiet...

Amid her wandering thoughts, Yan Qingqiu couldn't help asking herself: Yan Qingqiu, do you want her to hear, or not?

Just then, Song Qingre came back, offering to dry her hair for her. Before Yan Qingqiu could decide how to respond, Song Qingre's fingers threaded through her strands, massaging her scalp, and she asked nervously, "I didn't talk in my sleep last night, did I?"

Yan Qingqiu's heart spasmed. Marriage.

Song Qingre finished drying her hair and left. Yan Qingqiu clutched the dryer, inched to the door, and cracked it open. She didn't know why, but she kept feeling like Song Qingre was still thinking about marriage.

She tugged at her hair in frustration.

Song Qingre was far away now. Yan Qingqiu sat at the vanity fixing her hair, clipping on a pearl barrette and swiping on a bright lipstick.

System: 【You two were together again last night?】

Lipstick touched her lips; Yan Qingqiu pressed them together. 【So what?】

Before the System could speak, she vented her own frustration: 【I've noticed something about you lately—you're like some bitter housewife spying over the wall. Every time I wake up in a room with her, you have to ask, and it's getting really annoying. It's like I'm some heartless woman doing nothing all day but sneaking around behind your back. If you really want to know, hurry up and fix yourself.】

The System's tone deepened. 【I'm just warning you.】

Yan Qingqiu let it go in one ear and out the other. She wasn't stupid—whenever she was with Song Qingre, the System glitched and couldn't connect. That only benefited her. The System could stay broken forever, as far as she cared.

As long as she was bound to Song Qingre for life, even if the System hated her and wanted her dead, it couldn't do a thing.

Yan Qingqiu: 【I don't get how this game is supposed to be played. I'm with Xing Xing all the time, and you don't say a peep. But the moment I do anything with Song Qingre, you're all over it. Are you spying on me?】

System: 【Yes.】

It admitted it openly. 【Host, we're a lewd game. When you and Song Qingre get frisky, we can't monitor it—that's considered wholesome behavior for the game. Let alone the level of explicitness—even if you just kiss, we can't monitor it. So what kind of game are we then? Feels like a kids' puzzle game.】

Fair point. Yan Qingqiu didn't argue, but a spark of realization hit her. A wild thought crossed her mind: could Song Qingre know she was being watched, and that's why she'd never touched her before?

But how could she test Song Qingre?

System: 【Host, what are you thinking?】

Yan Qingqiu thought she was overthinking it. If Song Qingre knew she was being monitored, wouldn't she have to have some kind of awareness? Aware that this was a game world... That would make Song Qingre terrifyingly formidable.

She smiled vaguely at the mirror. 【Just thinking about beauties and lewd things, wanting some excitement.】 She figured it was worth testing, to see what was really going on.

If only she could get rid of this System. It was such a pain, and most importantly, it kept zapping her brain.

Yan Qingqiu felt like she was carrying a bomb, always in mortal danger.

Maybe the System sensed it, because it spoke gravely: 【Host, I hope you don't overstep. We have full surveillance. If anyone learns this is a game world, we'll activate safety protection mode. If you're judged a bug or virus and erased by the game, don't say I didn't warn you.】

Yan Qingqiu hummed. 【Thanks for the warning, System. I promise, I never once thought about revealing I'm a transmigrator~ I want to live! Become the queen of this game, reach the peak of life, and marry a rich beauty!】

The System was speechless. Yan Qingqiu tidied herself up, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs, throwing in one more jab about fixing its bug.

The System said nothing—it probably didn't have the capability yet, which was why it went silent whenever she mentioned the bug, before its tone turned nasty.

The rain had finally stopped today, and Yan Qingqiu was ready to go out and have some fun.

After breakfast, she drove herself to the company. Su Xingjie had originally assigned her two assistants, thinking she didn't drive much and could have them ferry her around. Yan Qingqiu found it a hassle—she could drive herself, so she didn't see the point in having them tag along.

On the way, she bought some sugar-roasted chestnuts. They smelled sweet, and more importantly, they were still warm. She planned to give them to Su Xingjie to try. Ji Xiangsi asked her to wait—Fu Sang had just brought some people by.

"What's up? Any gossip?" Yan Qingqiu didn't want the chestnuts to get cold.

Ji Xiangsi nodded. Yesterday, Fu Sang had gone to shoot a cover and clashed with the photographer. She walked off before finishing, spending the rest of the day calling Su Xingjie to come back her up.

"But yesterday, Director Su was with you the whole time, so she told Fu Sang's manager to handle it herself. Now Fu Sang's holding it against Director Su."

Yan Qingqiu hadn't known about that, but she thought Su Xingjie had done the right thing. "Let me go check it out. She's making a fuss over something tiny and giving Xing Xing a hard time? She thinks she's some goddess everyone should worship? Was it the photographer's fault, or was she just being difficult?"

"Her assistant said they were splashing water on her for the shoot. Because they did multiple takes, the water got cold, so she clashed with the photographer. It's a small thing—happens on shoots all the time. They could've just talked it out. She's making a mountain out of a molehill."

"Oh." Yan Qingqiu stood and carried the bag of chestnuts to Su Xingjie's office. Before she could knock, she heard voices inside.

Fu Sang's voice was sharp. "So now that she's here, I have to step aside? Then what was all my effort for?"

Su Xingjie's tone was equally cold, impatient. "What effort? Didn't I build you up with my resources? In this line of work, it's not about effort—it's about resources. Stop causing trouble."

"And Yan Qingqiu causes less trouble? Wasn't it Yan Qingqiu who went to the Fu house to mourn yesterday?" Fu Sang shot back. "She did something small? If this gets out, Wilderness might even cancel your contract."

Su Xingjie said flatly, "Then let me be direct: what you did yesterday, I just couldn't be bothered to handle." Her voice was as cold as ice.

"You weren't like this before." Fu Sang's voice dropped, provoked. Su Xingjie had become heartless, sitting in her office chair with fingers interlaced. Back then, Su Xingjie had thrown every resource at her, even accompanying her to shoots. She said indignantly, "So, she comes, and I have to step aside, right?"

"Want the truth?" Su Xingjie asked.

Fu Sang said nothing. A moment later, the sound of something crashing came from inside. "Then why did you build me up like that before..."

"I build up all fresh talent at the company. And ER is a fashion house—models serve the clothes. This isn't an agency for launching stars." Su Xingjie's point was simple, reminding her to treat Qiang Wei with respect, not to dismiss the company's designers. If anything, the designers came first.

"So I'm just a model? A money-making model?"

"What else?" Su Xingjie countered.

"In my eyes, you're just a model." She might as well have slapped a label on Fu Sang's forehead. "A display piece."

More crashing sounds followed, and Fu Sang muttered something under her breath before declaring she was terminating her contract.

Yan Qingqiu pushed the door open and walked in, seeing Fu Sang hurling nearby books. People always needed to break something when angry—Yan Qingqiu did it too. She watched the hot model throw her tantrum and clicked her tongue.

Fu Sang threw two books; a few landed at Su Xingjie's feet. None hit her, but it still pissed Yan Qingqiu off. She walked over to Su Xingjie. "Didn't Xing Xing already tell you last time not to come around here? Why don't you listen? Who do you think you are, bullying a director?"

Fu Sang cursed at her directly. "Which eye of yours saw me bullying her? You're just stirring trouble."

Yan Qingqiu grabbed a book and hurled it at Fu Sang's feet. "That's what bullying looks like," she told her.

Fu Sang looked between them, didn't linger, and stormed off with a dark face. Su Xingjie didn't chase her, just flipped through the papers in her hand. Yan Qingqiu came over, and Su Xingjie said flatly, "Normal. These models, every time there's a little change, they love coming to interrogate me, like my treating them well means I'm in love with them."

Yan Qingqiu set the chestnuts on the desk and couldn't help remarking, "Good thing you don't date. If you did, every model in the company would be gunning for you."

"By the way, isn't it Saturday? Why are you at the office?" Su Xingjie asked.

It was a long story. Now, whenever she saw Song Qingre, all she could think about was marriage, and she couldn't control herself. She didn't dare stay home.

Yan Qingqiu peeled a chestnut and fed it to Su Xingjie's lips. Just then, the office door opened again. Su Xingjie bent her head and ate it. Fu Sang's expression shifted when she saw them, like she'd caught them in some sordid affair.

Fu Sang had come back for her handbag, having left in such a hurry. Now she looked like her eyes would pop out.

Their relationship had never been warm, but it hadn't been this blunt either. Now she looked at Yan Qingqiu with pure disgust.

Yan Qingqiu found the look strange, so she sat on Su Xingjie's desk. "Weird. I hate her even more than I hate Luo Xi now."

"Speaking of which, I got a piece of news yesterday—not sure if it's true." Su Xingjie ate a chestnut, wiped her fingers with a tissue, and said, "Apparently Fu Ye is going to marry Luo Xi."

"Holy shit, that's explosive." Yan Qingqiu was stunned.

"I'm guessing the Fu family found out yesterday's stunt was your doing, so they're forcing Fu Ye to marry Luo Xi." Su Xingjie pulled out her phone and showed Yan Qingqiu her chat log—a message from one of her business partners, saying the two families had dinner together yesterday.

Yan Qingqiu zoomed in on the photo. She could only see the parents eating, not the couple in question.

There was also a video. She could hear Fu Ye's father laughing warmly: "Don't worry, Xiaoxi. Once she marries into our family, we'll never mistreat her. If Fu Ye dares wrong her, we'll beat him within an inch of his life. We'll treat Xiaoxi like our own daughter."

"Right... mainly because Xiaoxi's fond of Fu Ye. If we weren't such close brothers, I wouldn't have agreed... I trust you, old pal."

Yan Qingqiu clicked her tongue. "Is Luo Xi's dad a stepfather? Really marrying his own daughter off? I don't think Fu Ye's any good—a dog would shake its head at him."

"Luo Xi's dad isn't stupid. It's mainly because Luo Xi wants him. He's probably thinking with their family's money and connections, Luo Xi can control the Fu family once she marries in. I reckon Luo Xi's just love-blind, and her dad doesn't want to drag it out." Su Xingjie smiled. "It's good they're getting married—after that, you're safe. He won't pester you anymore."

"I'm just worried the married man will still go out chasing." Yan Qingqiu had a feeling Fu Ye was the type who wouldn't stay faithful even in marriage, probably coming up with some excuse like, "My parents forced me into this marriage, I never wanted it, I'm such a poor soul."

If Luo Xi married Fu Ye, Song Qingre wouldn't have to worry about marriage either! That was great news.

She thought about texting Song Qingre, but hesitated when she reached for her phone. Sending it directly would reveal she'd overheard Song Qingre's conversation, wouldn't it?

So she held back and kept eating chestnuts.

Eating too many made her choke. Su Xingjie said she'd take her out for afternoon tea—a business partner had messaged her that the first batch of winter tea had just been picked, and they'd saved her some. She'd been invited to taste it.

The two left together. Su Xingjie drove while Yan Qingqiu sat in the passenger seat, her thoughts drifting.

"Last night I dreamed I got married, and in the dream you gave me so many blessings."

Su Xingjie tensed. "You didn't marry Fu Ye, did you? Don't scare me."

"How could that be?" Yan Qingqiu said.

"Song Qingre?" Su Xingjie relaxed a little. They both fell silent for a moment. Then Su Xingjie said, "If that's what you're thinking, it means you're actually more normal now. You used to like her a lot—you'd talk to me all the time about marrying her."

"That's all in the past." Yan Qingqiu felt embarrassed. She clutched her phone, hesitated, then finally gave in to the urge and sent a message.

【Good news, I just heard something.】

The car stopped at a courtyard house. They got out, and the host gave them a private room. Yan Qingqiu couldn't tell what kind of trees were planted there, but the grove beyond still looked fresh and green.

The second floor had a circular walkway with a few clay stoves, filled with smokeless charcoal. A waitress brought up a basket with preserved fruits and some things to roast.

Yan Qingqiu set a sweet potato on the grill rack. Roasted sweet potato with tea—whoever came up with that pairing was a genius. It worked strangely well for the season.

"Want me to roast you a pear?" Yan Qingqiu asked Su Xingjie, remembering she liked pears. Su Xingjie nodded, so Yan Qingqiu picked a snow pear and set it on top, then roasted a sweet potato for herself.

The heat dispelled the chill left by the two days of heavy rain.

"Luo Xi must be over the moon—finally she can be with Fu Ye." Yan Qingqiu said.

Su Xingjie nodded. "The question is whether Fu Ye will actually play along. When he got engaged to you, wasn't he still chasing Song Qingre abroad?"

Yan Qingqiu knew his type all too well. "He'll be laughing in his dreams. Back then he could only have me and Song Qingre—now he gets Luo Xi too." She couldn't help speculating: was this some sort of NP game where the male lead juggled three women and they all came to understand each other in the end? That was disgusting. "Ugh, I'm going to throw up!"

Then she added, "Luo Xi's annoying as hell, but she doesn't deserve that. Her marrying Fu Ye is like flowers on a dog's turd—except the dog doesn't even like the flower and shits all over it anyway."

Su Xingjie nodded in agreement, then said seriously, "Sis, I'm just glad you're clear-headed. That alone puts you above Luo Xi."

"Haha." Yan Qingqiu laughed. She did think she was impressive. Most previous transmigrators probably went for the male lead, who'd never cared for them. Now that she was here, the male lead was her lapdog—too bad she had no feelings for lapdogs.

As they chatted, who should appear but Luo Xi, walking over with friends. She wore her hair in a bun, a small bag across her body, with two curled locks framing her cheeks.

What a small world. Yan Qingqiu braced herself for a confrontation. But Luo Xi just shot her a venomous glare, like she wanted to skin her alive. Yan Qingqiu tensed up, but no matter how she thought about it, she knew she was in the right, so she glared right back.

"Immature." Yan Qingqiu muttered.

Luo Xi took a table on the other side of the walkway. Yan Qingqiu was even more curious now. "So have they set a date? When's the engagement? I can't wait to send a gift."

"No idea. No one's said anything since. Probably soon—Fu Ye won't risk losing his CEO position, and Luo Xi loves him too much." Su Xingjie poured her some tea. The sweet potato smelled wonderful, and she flipped it over. "Want me to roast some tangerines?"

Yan Qingqiu kept glancing at Luo Xi, unable to stop grinning. She set a small orange on the grill, its fruity scent rising. She wondered what roasted orange tasted like—like Song Qingre?

She looked up again, and Luo Xi shouted across the distance, "What are you grinning at? What's so funny? I've decided—I'm not marrying my brother!"

"Huh?" Yan Qingqiu sliced into the sweet potato with a knife, thinking she was joking. The freshly roasted potato smelled divine, especially the crisp skin. She licked her lips, not believing for a second that Luo Xi had it in her. "Hey, don't mess around. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Keep sulking, and there won't be a next time."

Luo Xi was furious, gripping her chopsticks.

Yan Qingqiu just took a bite of the potato.

"You're such a glutton," Luo Xi sneered.

"As hungry as you are for your brother?" Yan Qingqiu grinned. If she hadn't watched the video of their families' dinner, she might've believed Luo Xi. She deliberately licked her finger and winked at her.

Luo Xi was clearly furious.

Yan Qingqiu encouraged her. "Young lady, you need to seize this chance. Don't act on impulse." The point was, Luo Xi's position was awkward—she was clearly a supporting character. If she missed this shot, she'd never get another.

"I've already refused," Luo Xi said, so firmly it seemed she'd made the decision after deep thought. Yan Qingqiu had no choice but to believe it now, and she frowned in confusion. "Why on earth? You're really not going to marry him? Why?"

Even Yan Qingqiu felt it was a shame. Luo Xi's speech about childhood sweethearts had genuinely moved her; in a way, Luo Xi was pitiful, done in by her own obsession.

"I..." Luo Xi choked up. She didn't want to admit the little secret in her heart—the one that had shaken her resolve to marry. She'd come out for tea today to sort it all out.

She looked at Yan Qingqiu, who was staring hard at her like she wanted to see right through her. Luo Xi said deliberately, "It's your fault. My brother's set on marrying you. I can't stand it. If he wants to marry you, let him. I support him."

Yan Qingqiu was dumbstruck, burning her tongue on the sweet potato. "Wait—what does he want to marry me for? Can't you have a little backbone? You should pursue love! You're a modern woman! Be loyal and steadfast!"

She'd thought she was out of danger, and had been ready to celebrate!

"Listen. In love, you have to be faithful. Now I don't like him, and neither does Song Qingre—actually, we never did. Your chances are huge right now. Just be a little gentler, a little more romantic, and if that doesn't work, act a little indifferent—he'll fall for you."

Luo Xi had been wavering, but hearing Yan Qingqiu's passionate recommendation only made the whole thing sound like a trap. Her conviction hardened.

"I won't marry him."

"No, you'll regret this." Yan Qingqiu pleaded. "He's your brother! Your idolized brother! Don't you love him?"

"It's fine. Loving someone also means letting go when it's time." Luo Xi shamelessly stood and walked over to sit in the empty seat at their table. "Why don't you marry my brother? Sister-in-law."

"What the hell, Luo Xi, are you crazy?" Yan Qingqiu shot to her feet, ready to swing at her. Had Luo Xi been possessed or something? Why had she snapped to her senses so fast?

Luo Xi hesitated over the title, but seeing Yan Qingqiu's irritation only made her repeat it to annoy her. "My brother dreams of marrying you. Sister-in-law."

"Shut up!" Even Su Xingjie was disgusted. She defended Yan Qingqiu. "Say one more word and I'm throwing you out."

Luo Xi doubled down, shamelessly grabbing one of their sweet potatoes. "Anyway, my brother really wants to marry you, by any means necessary. I've thought it through—I'll let go. Best wishes to you and my brother."

Yan Qingqiu was glad she hadn't eaten, or she'd have thrown up. She wanted to shout, "Don't you dare let go!" But biting her tongue, she thought: if Luo Xi didn't marry that scumbag, wouldn't she set her sights on Yan Qingqiu? Would she try to marry her by any means necessary?

Absolutely not!

What to do? A thought struck her.

To derail the plot, she'd have to get married quietly, and fast.

The only name that came to mind was Song Qingre.

And right then, the phone on the table buzzed. She glanced at it—the caller ID read "Song Xiaore."

Song Xiaore had replied: 【I'm all ears. What's the good news?】

Yan Qingqiu squeezed her eyes shut, pretending not to see it. But Luo Xi peeked over her shoulder, called her "sister-in-law" again, and slipped back to her seat with the sweet potato before Yan Qingqiu could snap. Yan Qingqiu felt something off and turned to look behind her—Ye Sichun was walking over.

Ye Sichun said cheerfully to someone beside her, "Luo Xi invited me for tea... you should try it too. I hear the atmosphere here is nice, and a lot of familiar faces come by."

Song Qingre turned off her phone, looked up, and hummed in response.