Chapter 57

Her words were quiet, just like the moonlight outside.

Song Qingre's gaze rested on her, soft and tender, moved by her. She said in a low voice, "You comfort me, and I'm fine. I won't be sad anymore."

"Mm." Yan Qingqiu desperately wanted to speak, her heart stuffed full, but the words wouldn't come out smoothly. She simply didn't know which sentence to say first.

I won't be fierce with you anymore. If I am, I'll slap my own mouth.

Yan Qingqiu didn't know if she could actually do it, because her mouth was too fast, and sometimes she spoke without thinking.

Her tongue was like it had been tied in a knot—so wild and flirty, yet now she didn't know what to say.

The night wind blew over, but it couldn't cool the temperature on her cheeks. Instead, it burned hotter, spreading like a prairie fire across her skin.

Yan Qingqiu wanted to say something more, something to show she cared, so she said obliquely, "From now on, I'll share my cherries with you. You can snatch food right out of my mouth."

Song Qingre's pupils reflected her image, her gaze barely ever wavering. She said, "I feel so lucky."

They sat on the bench, and now the wind blew stronger, their hair flying messily, revealing reddened ear tips.

They sat for a long time. The night deepened, but the number of people on the street actually increased. Yan Qingqiu didn't know what to do with her arms and legs; she could distinctly feel herself blushing.

Finally, the car from home arrived to pick them up. The butler got out, saw the scene, and chose not to disturb them. He stood silently under the streetlamp.

Under the moonlight... more precisely, under the white artificial light of the night, their fingers gradually drew closer, interlacing tightly.

Her heart pounded wildly. Song Qingre leaned back, the hand nearest to Yan Qingqiu pressing against the back of the bench as she used her right hand to hold Yan Qingqiu's.

They maintained this position, their spirits converging and drifting apart.

So much so that when Yan Qingqiu went home that night and lay in bed, her heart was still racing.

She couldn't sleep, her mind always drifting to Song Qingre. Lying there, it still felt unreal. She started sleeping on her side, then slowly turned over and gently pinched Song Qingre's arm.

Yan Qingqiu didn't want to wake her, so she moved carefully, listening to Song Qingre's breathing. Song Qingre was sleeping soundly, as if she had let down some guard, falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Yan Qingqiu's fingers brushed against Song Qingre's pajamas. She was wearing a warm green set, though the color was hard to see in the dark. The silk texture was smooth, and even a light touch revealed how soft the fabric was. Yan Qingqiu propped herself up on her arm to admire Song Qingre's face.

There was always this strange sense of familiarity.

Thinking and touching, she finally fell asleep.

Yan Qingqiu didn't even remember how she had lain down.

·

In the morning, Yan Qingqiu grabbed her phone to scroll through the news and was the first to see a post from her special follows.

Su Xingjie: 【It's the sum of all stars.】

It had been posted last night and already had a lot of likes, with all sorts of lavish praise for Su Xingjie. Yan Qingqiu liked it too.

Reply: 【Please, by all means, shine bright! Never fall!】

Su Xingjie was too busy, buried in trivial matters, without time to relax. She always looked worried and downcast.

Now she was full of energy, half her exhaustion gone.

Having social experience has its advantages—you can empathize with many things. Yan Qingqiu hadn't become numb to real life; instead, she'd become gentler and more considerate.

Recently, the weather had grown colder. Outside, a thick fog had settled, and icicles hung from leaves and flowers, heralding that snow was on its way.

Yan Qingqiu watched the maid bring in several bouquets of flowers from the greenhouse. She ate her eggs, stared at them for a bit, then wiped her greasy hands.

The butler said, "Miss Song's flowers bloom even more beautifully. The frost pressing on the black-red roses looks like a layer of silver powder."

He stood respectfully beside Yan Qingqiu and added, "Miss, I'll go fetch you a bouquet in a moment."

Yan Qingqiu nodded in agreement. After finishing her meal, she waited for the flowers to arrive, then noticed Song Qingre tapping angrily at her phone, her expression sour.

"What call was that?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

"My international package got sent back for inspection," Song Qingre said.

"The jewelry from your family?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

She had been planning for the two of them to go get married on Monday, never expecting the package to be sent back.

"So what do we do now?" Yan Qingqiu felt a dull ache in her chest, regretting that she'd asked. If she couldn't accept it, Song Qingre must be even more upset. Song Qingre frowned and handed her the phone. The screen showed that due to flight issues, the package couldn't clear customs.

Yan Qingqiu felt they'd missed a step—perhaps the system couldn't detect what Song Qingre was doing, but her logistics information existed, and that information could be monitored.

This system was so annoying.

"Don't be too sad," Yan Qingqiu said, her heart aching. Song Qingre had been thinking about marrying her for a long time. Song Qingre looked at her, said nothing, and gently patted her head.

Yan Qingqiu's mind was racing now. "This wedding, I'm definitely going through with it! Here's what—you just go trick my dad, get my household register, and the moment we get the chance, we'll get married directly!"

She refused to believe the system could do anything to her.

"What's wrong?" Yan Fu walked over, confused. "Trick me into what?"

Yan Qingqiu's lips moved, but she didn't know how to explain. Feeling frustrated, she sat on the sofa beside Song Qingre.

The two of them wore the same furious expression.

Originally she'd been nervous, but now that they were being blocked this way, she felt it was absolutely necessary to get married.

Yan Qingqiu looked at Song Qingre. "Come with me—we'll go next door to cut roses."

Song Qingre nodded, stood up, and wiped her fingers with a tissue. "I'll go get some scissors."

After winter arrived, the roses out of season had bloomed even more. If they could still bloom when it snowed, that would be absolutely gorgeous.

Song Qingre's yard had been tidied up by someone before; it was now completely transformed with no weeds, and Yan Qingqiu immediately thought of the word "Monet's Garden."

Song Qingre had remodeled it accordingly, adding many elements she personally liked.

The garden path was paved with stone, lined on both sides with bright red flowers and green grass. If not for the cold, it would be hard to tell what season it was.

She'd also had a swing installed nearby.

Walking along, she said, "Don't worry. If not today, the package will arrive the day after tomorrow, and we'll get married then. If not here, we'll go abroad."

Yan Qingqiu felt nothing looking at her own yard's swing, but she couldn't help stealing a glance—and then another—at Song Qingre's swing. It was as if...

"You had a swing at your house before, didn't you?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

Song Qingre hummed in affirmation. She put on white gloves, her slender fingers wrapped in a way that was both dry and beautiful. She'd just casually grabbed the butler's pair.

Song Qingre pressed the clasp at her wrist.

It felt like a lifetime had passed, hazy and dreamlike.

Song Qingre said, "That was a long time ago. We were children then, loved to play. My parents and your uncle decided to build a little playground in our yard. We'd go on the slide, the swing, and there was a small platform for roller skating. But later, my mom thought skating at home was boring, so she preferred taking us to the ice rink."

Yan Qingqiu had never skated before. She loved watching figure skating, adored the feeling of dancing on ice, and thought female figure skaters were fairies of the ice.

Song Qingre chuckled, her thin lips parting. Yan Qingqiu's gaze shifted to her, feeling like she was looking at a cold-colored rose blooming defiantly in winter.

"Um... it's just... I..." Yan Qingqiu didn't know how to put it. She just wanted to ask if she could skate.

Song Qingre was endlessly patient, helping her recall bit by bit. "You don't know how to skate. You were too young then, uncoordinated. You kept falling, over and over. No matter how we tried to teach you, you couldn't learn. In the end, you sobbed that your dream was to be a painter, not to open an ice rink."

So I actually wanted to be a painter as a kid.

Yan Qingqiu thought, I think I'm a bit cute. But this dream was fulfilled by Song Qingre instead.

"Then, my mom bought a scooter. She tied a rope to it, rode in front, and you sat in the back. She pulled you around everywhere. Afraid you'd fall, she made me follow behind you." Song Qingre reminisced, two decades of time slipping away in an instant. She was just a child then too. All she could remember was that Qiuqiu was adorable—so adorable that she didn't want to discard a single memory, which was why so many things remained vivid to her.

"Back then, you thought it was embarrassing to be like that at the rink, and you begged my mom. Eventually, she had no choice, so she got two scooters, and we sat on them together, being embarrassed together. That's when you started smiling again, and you said seriously, 'Skating is meant to be done sitting down.'"

Yan Qingqiu wanted to laugh now too. Such an interesting childhood.

Song Qingre walked into the garden, dew clinging to the leaves. At the faintest movement, her thick-heeled leather boots got wet. Yan Qingqiu said, "Wait, let me get shoes, or your pants will get soaked."

She ran off quickly without giving Song Qingre room to respond, grabbed a pair of tall boots, and changed into them herself.

She tugged at the boot tops. Song Qingre had changed as well. She walked into the garden, the fog still lingering. In a season when roses weren't supposed to bloom, stepping among the blossoms, it was like entering some earthly paradise.

Yan Qingqiu brought over a basket and slung it on her back. Song Qingre clipped roses and placed them into the basket. After years of neglect, the roses had grown wild, the branches not as straight as those in florist shops. Song Qingre trimmed the stems and tidied the flowers as she cut.

It was Saturday, so they weren't in a rush to get to work.

Yan Qingqiu carried a full basket of flowers. Song Qingre smiled just looking at her, adjusting blooms and tucking in another. She said softly, "When you were little, you'd ask my mom to take photos of you like this."

"Actually... I want photos now too." Yan Qingqiu said shyly. "We can take marriage photos then."

She turned and shouted toward the neighboring yard, "Uncle Dong, may I trouble you to find me a camera?"

Uncle Dong didn't hear. But Yan Fu did. Standing upstairs, Yan Fu pushed open the window, holding a cup of freshly brewed tea. The fog was thick; he squinted, unable to see clearly. Yan Qingqiu shouted again, and Yan Fu called out on her behalf, "Uncle Dong, Qiuqiu is calling you."

Uncle Dong came out of the greenhouse next door. "What is it?"

Yan Qingqiu put her hands on her hips and said, "Help~ me~ get~ the~ camera."

Uncle Dong was puzzled for a few seconds, but still did as she asked and went upstairs. He came into the neighboring yard carrying a paper bag, looking confused. "Miss, what do you need pajamas for?"

Hearing that, Yan Qingqiu turned to look at him, her lips pressed together, trembling. She couldn't help but laugh. "Uncle Dong, I said camera! What did you hear? I'm speechless. I want to take photos."

"Honestly, why would I need pajamas in broad daylight?"

The butler laughed too. "So it was a camera you wanted. I'll go get it again. I thought, why would you need pajamas in the daytime? I was even debating whether to talk you out of it."

Yan Qingqiu suspected the butler's mind had gone somewhere impure. She gave a helpless smile. If the butler could imagine her asking for pajamas, it was probably because he himself was a bit mischievous.

The butler went to fetch the camera and came back. Yan Qingqiu had mud on her hands, so she tilted her head and tossed her hair. "Make me look pretty."

"Then we'll need to get closer. The fog hasn't lifted yet."

"Okay."

At first, Yan Qingqiu posed for the butler to take pictures. Later, it was all candid shots. In between, she went over with the basket on her back to look. The butler genuinely had a good eye. They picked roses in the thick fog, plucking and smelling the fragrant flowers, with Song Qingre always giving the first one to Yan Qingqiu. Yan Qingqiu gently inhaled the scent of the blooms, sometimes wanting to bury her face entirely in them.

You'd think she was about to eat them.

And she did, sometimes. She'd place a petal in her mouth and hold it there, unconsciously swallowing it.

"Don't know if it's poisonous."

Song Qingre glanced at her. She added, "What if I accidentally catch love poison? Hahaha, like the Little Dragon Girl."

"You have quite the imagination," Song Qingre said, weaving a flower crown for her. Yan Qingqiu said, "I can weave those too."

Yan Qingqiu put the crown on. They spent a long time on the flowers, and by ten o'clock, the fog began to lift, thinning out.

They came out of the garden and only then remembered the butler, whose legs had gone numb from squatting. He said the camera was almost out of battery. Yan Qingqiu went over to check. The butler must have secretly studied photography; the photos were beautiful. Even Song Qingre commented, "There's a strong sense of atmosphere. Photography is an art."

Fog and roses, dewy roses—the petals looked temptingly fresh, and the people were even more beautiful than the flowers.

Yan Qingqiu returned the camera and found her back was soaked through. Song Qingre took the basket off her and said, "It's pretty heavy. Aren't you tired?"

"Of course I am." She shrugged. "Anyway, Uncle Dong, go charge the camera and send me the photos later."

The butler returned to the neighboring yard first. Yan Qingqiu tilted her neck, and Song Qingre massaged it for her. The two of them carried the basket back, and a maid brought out chairs. They sat at the doorstep, basking in the sun and arranging the flowers. Yan Qingqiu took a photo, waiting for the butler to send the pictures to her phone so she could post them.

They arranged several bouquets. The butler gave her the camera, and she fiddled with it to post on her Moments: 【Roses in the Fog】

She specifically picked a few shots where she looked beautiful.

Su Xingjie commented: 【Qiu Bao, send me these photos. I'll have someone retouch them and post them on Weibo.】

Yan Qingqiu forwarded all of today's photos to her, then sent a voice message: "Xing Xing, are you at home or at the office? I'll bring some flowers to you later."

Su Xingjie said, "Just have a courier deliver them. No need to come all the way."

"It's fine, I'm not busy anyway. I'm taking the day off."

Yan Qingqiu really didn't want to go to the office, so she added, "Tell you what—call me when you get off work, and I'll deliver them straight to your place. Better to keep them at home. People are sending you flowers at the office every day, and you're busy. Even if they're at the office, you won't see them."

"True." When Su Xingjie got busy, she didn't have time to look at flowers. Her eyes were glued to the computer screen. If they were at home, she could smell the scent and sleep better.

The photos were sent to Su Xingjie, and within an hour, Su Xingjie posted them on Weibo. Half an hour later, they hit the hot search.

The title was: Qiu·Roses in the Fog

She hadn't edited out Song Qingre; the two of them appeared together. Many comments below asked: 【Is this a public announcement? Did they finally make it official?】

【I know this hype has died down, but I still want to ask—are they still living together? What about the heat period? Please, sisters, give us a definite answer. This is very important to me.】

【Absolutely stunning, gorgeous, adorable. I heard ER's Winter Show this time features a collaboration between Yan Qingqiu and Song Qingre. Amazing. Sister Xing Xing, you're incredible. I'm licking the screen.】

【Winter Show, Winter Show. Can't wait for you three ladies to put on a show. Go ER!】

Soon, the Winter Show also trended. Yan Qingqiu used her alt account to help spread it. She had a Weibo account that Su Xingjie now handled for marketing.

Models were promoted much like celebrities and artists in the entertainment industry. People in the industry often wanted to collaborate with ER, asking Su Xingjie to lend them models for filming. But Su Xingjie always refused outright. They were a fashion company, and if they were to expand, it would be in the fashion world. She could sponsor, but her models were off-limits. She couldn't steer the company down the wrong path.

Everyone had high expectations for her show, and the hot search climbed quickly.

That evening, Yan Qingqiu and Song Qingre went together to deliver flowers to Su Xingjie. Since they didn't have a gate pass, they waited outside for Su Xingjie to get off work. Su Xingjie didn't work overtime and came back fairly early.

Yan Qingqiu couldn't wait to show her. She opened the trunk, revealing roses everywhere.

The fragrance wafted out. Yan Qingqiu beckoned her over, took out a rose with a delicate shimmer, and handed it to her. "I saved the best flower for you. I wouldn't give this to just anyone."

"Mm." Su Xingjie was delighted and got into the car. "Come in with me. There are too many flowers; it's hard for me to carry them alone."

Yan Qingqiu wanted to save her the trouble of going back and forth, so she had Song Qingre drive in. She stared out the window, curious about where Su Xingjie lived—whether it was nice, quiet, and safe.

After a look around, she found it was a high-end residential area. She'd never seen it before; it was fantastic to her.

The two of them helped carry the flowers upstairs.

This was Yan Qingqiu's first time at Su Xingjie's place. Su Xingjie pressed the elevator button and said, "I live alone, and I don't like sharing, so I just got a small place."

"Makes sense. I think big houses are scary too." Yan Qingqiu glanced at Song Qingre, who was holding flowers, specifically referring to her mansion.

At the door, Su Xingjie unlocked it with a fingerprint and gave them yogurt sticks. That was all she had at home; she didn't usually snack. She said with a smile, "Hasn't Song Qingre's place basically been cleaned up?"

Yan Qingqiu dreaded hearing this. She was afraid Song Qingre would move back; she needed her right now. "Not really. Her place still smells, like mildew. I think moving in would definitely be toxic. That house of hers, at least until next spring... next summer, really. Honestly. She's around paint all day, inhaling toxic fumes. If something happened, that'd be bad."

Su Xingjie was stunned. "That serious? My place was only renovated not long ago, and I moved straight in."

"Who knows if it's toxic."

"Let me smell it for you." Yan Qingqiu took a sniff, seriously. "Okay. No poison. Maybe get someone to test it."

Su Xingjie laughed, deliberately teasing. "I had it inspected before I moved in. You two haven't eaten yet, have you? Want to stay for dinner?"

Su Xingjie went over to open the fridge, which was empty. She froze on the spot awkwardly. Yan Qingqiu saw it and laughed. "This is what you call eating? What do you usually eat?"

Su Xingjie lived alone, with busy seasons every quarter. She rarely cooked at home, usually eating at the office. When busy at night, she might eat or might go hungry—more often than not, she went hungry.

"Really irregular." Yan Qingqiu, when she'd lived alone, always kept a pot, some cherry tomatoes, and little cucumbers. Noodles and rice were a must, so if she ever got hungry, she could whip something up—simple and quick. Before she transmigrated, prices had been soaring, and ordering takeout was both unsanitary and expensive.

She bit into her yogurt stick and shared her solo-living experience. "If you have a fridge, you should use it."

Su Xingjie blinked. "But haven't you always lived with your family?"

"I watch fun little videos when I'm bored. A lot of bloggers share stuff. At the time, I thought about making my own videos, something like 'A Twenty-Square-Meter Life of a Lonely Old Woman.'" Yan Qingqiu said. "Too bad I didn't have time, and my life was a mess."

"You can't handle hardship anyway."

Yan Qingqiu nearly cried. "Sis, you really get me."

Su Xingjie found a vase and arranged the flowers. Since she only came home to sleep and rarely added things to the house, her home looked quite spacious.

Yan Qingqiu looked around and peeked into her bedroom. On the bed were a few plushies she'd won from the claw machine before.

The dolls sat neatly on the bed, arranged in a row. Yan Qingqiu said, "Go to work properly. Accompany Xing Xing well, got it?"

Su Xingjie placed the flowers on the nightstand and smiled.

Yan Qingqiu instructed her that once the flowers withered, she should toss them; she had plenty more at home and could bring fresh ones anytime. She sat on Su Xingjie's bed chatting, then checked the time. "Oh, right—my dad asked me to invite you over for dinner. He wants to talk to you about something. You have to come, or else he'll nag forever."

"Alright."

That evening, Su Xingjie arrived at the Yan residence and greeted everyone politely.

Su Xingjie asked, "Uncle, did you need something from me?"

Yan Fu, who had been reading the newspaper, looked up, puzzled. He set the paper down, guessing what was going on—Su Xingjie must have been too shy to come for dinner, and Yan Qingqiu had made up an excuse. Yan Fu said, "Aren't you two putting on a show? I've had my secretary contact our company's brand ambassador to help you promote it. I'll give you a ticket then."

"That would be great."

After the last incident, the Yan Group's business had been thriving. New product sales were impressive, and thanks to smooth progress in the research lab, they were planning to open a branch overseas.

This was partly thanks to her generosity in lending the models back then.

Su Xingjie said, "If Uncle doesn't mind, we could do a co-branded collaboration."

"Why would I mind? You treat Qiuqiu so well. You've been helping to promote her. I'm grateful to you."

The two families had a good relationship, but they still had to be polite.

Yan Qingqiu had never told Yan Fu about the company's troubles. Yan Fu only knew that Su Xingjie's company had run into a small issue and wanted to help. "Don't be shy. If you need anything, come straight to me."

"Of course. Don't worry, Uncle."

Yan Qingqiu shook her head. "You capitalists, all you talk about is money. Can't you just have a proper meal without discussing business?"

"Fine, fine. We'll listen to Qiuqiu," Yan Fu stood up and said, "Let's drop the business talk. Uncle Dong, is the food ready?"

That night, they had chicken hotpot, which was livelier for eating together. The dishes were served steaming hot, and everyone sat around, with Yan Fu also inviting the butler to join.

They ate until their bodies were warm, shedding their coats and draping them over the chairs. Amid the warm atmosphere, Yan Fu mentioned plans for the New Year and invited Su Xingjie to stay over. Yan Qingqiu nodded in agreement. She picked up a chicken leg and placed it beside Song Qingre, then looked at Su Xingjie. "You're alone at home anyway. Might as well come here where it's lively. If I want to see you during the New Year, I'd have to drive over, and traffic is awful then—it'd take forever to get to you."

Su Xingjie's parents had divorced. She'd grown up with her mother, who later remarried and had another child. Her mother was happy now, and the new daughter was clingy.

Su Xingjie didn't want to intrude on her mother's life. After graduating, she lived alone. During holidays, she'd send a big red envelope, but her mother, probably out of guilt, never accepted it. After a while—one sending, the other not taking—Su Xingjie stopped sending. It was as if they had lost contact.

She made a decision early on. "Alright."

That night, Su Xingjie stayed over.

Song Qingre went to Yan Fu's room once. Yan Qingqiu didn't know what she went to do, so she went to Su Xingjie's room and chatted with her for a long time, into the dead of night, until she received a message.

Song Qingre: 【Where do I sleep tonight?】

Yan Qingqiu replied: 【My room, of course. Are you done talking?】

Song Qingre said: 【Uncle isn't there.】

Yan Qingqiu said: 【Then why did you stay in there so long? You can really wait!】

Song Qingre replied: 【I'm heading back now.】

Yan Qingqiu turned off her phone and said to Su Xingjie, "Go to bed early later."

"Okay."

Yan Qingqiu left, and Su Xingjie walked her to the door. She waved goodbye, feeling weirdly nervous, like she was sneaking around. She hoped Song Qingre would reach the designated spot soon. Pushing the door open, she heard the sound of running water. She quickly shut the door, and the water stopped.

"Song Qingre?"

"Mm, it's me. Want to shower?"

Yan Qingqiu wanted to shower with her. She went over and pushed the door open, seeing the beauty's naked body, her skin lathered in foam—foam clinging around a pink point, fingers breaking through the bubbles.

She quickly shut the door again.

Yan Qingqiu sat on the chair by the bed, ears filled with the sound of water.

She thought about it and felt the back of her neck heat up.

Yan Qingqiu's mind wandered. After today's events, she felt she had to do something—she had to protect Song Qingre.

She couldn't let the Miss Yan state happen—someone suddenly occupying the body, or the system completely erasing her memories.

Hmm... how to do that?

Anyway, she thought, if Miss Yan came back, she could return the body. But still... it was just that—she probably wouldn't want to give Song Qingre back.

The flutter in her heart was real. She couldn't let go.

She, Yan Qingqiu, wasn't that noble. Giving up on someone she loved? No way! If her heart fluttered, she'd be brave and chase love!

Yan Qingqiu seriously considered what to do. She'd figure out how to deal with the system, but she was definitely on Song Qingre's side. So how to firmly hold her ground?

What did she believe in with all her heart? Seemed like money. No, that wouldn't work—she'd been poor before, and she wouldn't necessarily trust money.

She thought for a long time, then wrote: February 14, very important, you have a lover.

February 14 was Song Qingre's birthday.

She trusted her wife most of all.

Just this one line. Perfect.

No matter what happened, she would firmly believe in Song Qingre. Seriously, how did her head get so energized, so clever, the moment she thought about protecting Song Qingre? Yan Qingqiu concluded that from now on, she could base all her thinking on Song Qingre.

She folded it carefully into a star and stored it in a small bottle. She thought for a long time—this had to be entrusted to the person she trusted most. Who?

Once she finished, she heard the door open. Deliberately, she said something to confuse the system that, though offline, stubbornly monitored her: "Song Qingre, I've already prepared your birthday gift."

"Good." Song Qingre walked over, skin still damp and glistening. She frowned slightly. "Do we have a wedding gift?"

"Your desires are too big," Yan Qingqiu said. She truly hadn't thought of that. "I'll prepare it later."

So, they were still getting married!

··

Monday, when it was time for the marriage, Song Qingre didn't report anything about the package's status to Yan Qingqiu.

Song Qingre woke up very early. She looked at the phone screen, then looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Logically, she should have been sad, but she was smiling. She touched the mirror, and hearing a sound outside, lowered her gaze again.

Coming out of the bathroom, she looked dispirited.

Seeing her, the person in bed immediately lay back down and shut her eyes. Yan Qingqiu didn't know what else to do, so she continued pretending to sleep.

Yan Qingqiu knew Song Qingre had thrown a tantrum—smashing her own phone in the bathroom—she just hadn't let Yan Qingqiu see.

Song Qingre was holding on painfully. So pitiful.

Song Qingre kissed her forehead. "It's fine."

Yan Qingqiu was at a loss for words, not knowing how to comfort her. It felt so sudden. Otherwise, today they'd be on their way to the marriage registry.

She could only secretly squeeze Song Qingre's fingers.

It's not your fault. It's mine!

Damn system. She cursed it ten thousand times!

Yan Qingqiu got up and said to her, "You don't have to be that strong from now on. I'll tell you a weakness of mine—I respond to softness, not hardness. If you act a little spoiled with me, don't be so stubborn, then I'll listen to you."

"Alright. I've learned."

Su Xingjie's Winter Show was starting to come together. Since it was a collaboration with Song Qingre, Song Qingre was busy with the preparations too. Fortunately, Su Xingjie had already negotiated the venue when applying for the show, so they were only making modifications to the existing setup.

This show combined fashion and painting. Su Xingjie had initially planned to hold it at an art gallery, but the gallery's location was limited, and the audience seating was insufficient.

So she rented out a large art exhibition hall.

Song Qingre brought in six painters to secretly work on the design together.

These painters all had different styles from Song Qingre, but they shared one trait: their paintings were distorted. A distorted gallery, distorted walls, hung with tilted, distorted paintings that looked ready to fall at any moment—one glance was enough to make your heart race. If a painting fell, wouldn't it be heartbreaking?

The main venue was arranged as a U-shaped gallery, with a huge white pearl on the floor. The models would walk out of the distorted U-shaped gallery and stand beside the pearl to showcase.

Not only that, Su Xingjie had also shelled out a fortune for eighteen golden masks.

She wore one herself, and when Song Qingre showed her the design, she was stunned.

Because on her half mask, beneath the eye, there was a pearl set in with a black-greenish sheen, looking exactly like an eyeball that had popped out.

She asked, "What does this mean? I thought you were going to give me a tuberose."

Yan Qingqiu, who followed them around every day and felt she'd picked up some art sense, said, "She's definitely helping you mock those models who abandoned you. They gouged out your eyes, hurt you deeply."

Su Xingjie's face lit up. "So that's it. Those idiots really have eyes but can't see."

Yan Qingqiu felt a bit proud and looked at Song Qingre beside her. "Is that right?"

Song Qingre nodded. "Qiuqiu really understands me." Yan Qingqiu grew even more pleased, unable to hold back, and shared her thoughts on the show. "Is this your mental power? Last time you said your mental power was a space."

This time Song Qingre shook her head. "No one can enter my mental space."

"Then what about me?" Yan Qingqiu considered herself special and should have a chance.

Song Qingre said seriously, "Don't say in public that you're entering an alpha's mental space."

"What's wrong with that?" Yan Qingqiu was confused.

Su Xingjie whispered in her ear, "An omega saying that to an alpha is like saying 'I want to bond with you.'"

"..." That's not right. I didn't go in last time.

Yan Qingqiu decided not to ask further. What if it was too lewd?

She changed the subject. "Is this different from your mental power?"

Song Qingre nodded, humming softly. Her mental power wasn't peaceful like this, wasn't artistic. If she opened her mental space, Yan Qingqiu would find it stained with blood, like a darkroom, filled with monotonous, oppressive colors and misplaced distortions. No trace of civilized art at all.

Song Qingre's pheromone scent wasn't like the complex fragrances of high-level alphas or omegas; it was purely citrus. But she was an SSS-level alpha, with all her bonuses stacked in mental power. On the surface, she looked no different from a normal alpha.

After a week of busy work, the show venue was fully set up.

This time it was a global livestream, with four major companies participating.

ER was the host. Su Xingjie flew abroad twice, signing ten models at the venue and borrowing thirty more from modeling agencies in one go. The company's money flowed like water.

The day before the show, Su Xingjie arranged for all the models to stay at a hotel. She asked Song Qingre if she wanted to stay there too. Song Qingre said no, glancing at Yan Qingqiu. Yan Qingqiu understood—Song Qingre would come to her room at night.

Yan Qingqiu went to the hotel ahead of time to avoid any last-minute rush the next day. She and Song Qingre parted ways briefly; Song Qingre went to arrange things with her artist friends.

That evening, Yan Qingqiu pulled Su Xingjie aside into a corner, away from everyone else.

"By the way, Xing Xing, hold onto something for me." She pulled a small bottle out of her pocket and handed it to Su Xingjie.

"What is it?" Su Xingjie looked at her.

Yan Qingqiu said, "It's a gift for Song Qingre. If February 14 rolls around and I haven't asked for it back, remember to give it to me."

Su Xingjie looked at the bottle. "Why is it so small?" She pinched it and saw a star inside. "This is the same as the star you gave me in high school. Back then you said..."

"...Wait." Yan Qingqiu stopped her. "She" had given Su Xingjie a star before? What a coincidence?

Thinking about it, if it were her giving a star to Su Xingjie, what would she say?

As things stood, she couldn't say it outright and instead hinted: "Xing Xing, you're the brightest. Please, always be my signal light."

Then she watched Su Xingjie nod. Su Xingjie said with a smile, "Of course! I've always been Qiuqiu's signal light!"

"What's wrong?" Su Xingjie noticed her expression change.

Yan Qingqiu shook her head. Her fixed pattern had been interrupted. She'd always felt she and Miss Yan were similar. Now she realized that sometimes, Miss Yan was like her.

At first glance, it was nothing—who looked like whom didn't matter. The system had also said that because she and Miss Yan were alike, she'd been brought here. So conversely, was MIss Yan the one who was like her?

She was frightened by this thought.

If that were so, why would she want to be like her?

Honestly, Yan Qingqiu could keep thinking, but she didn't dare. It would shatter every belief she had, upend her lifelong faith, the worldview she had held for twenty-four years... truth and falsehood, who was true, who was false.

A hand patted her shoulder twice. Su Xingjie asked, "What's wrong? Why is your face so pale?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just got a sudden chill." She touched her forehead, picked up her coat, and put it on. "Come on, let's go. Where do I wait?"

"I'll drop you at the hotel first."

"Fine." Yan Qingqiu nodded.

Su Xingjie put the little bottle in her pocket, then thought better and moved it to her bag. She took the wheel and drove Yan Qingqiu to the hotel.

Yan Qingqiu touched the back of her neck.

Damn it. It was heating up now.

She called out, 【System, system, system?】

The system didn't speak.

But Yan Qingqiu felt it was online.

She'd felt the heat since yesterday, just not strongly. Today, after being apart from Song Qingre for a bit, she felt her body getting slightly restless—like she couldn't do without her.

She had to take precautions. She'd been so busy arranging for Song Qingre that she'd forgotten to arrange for herself.

When they arrived, she got out of the car, took out her phone, and sent a message to Song Qingre as she walked: 【When you come, um, bring me some medicine—some suppressants, maybe a suppressant collar. Wait for me in the room.】

After sending, Song Qingre replied instantly: 【OK.】

Reading it put her mind at ease. She tucked her phone into her coat pocket and waited for Su Xingjie to finish parking. But as she took a step further into the hotel, her eyes widened.

The white moonlight lying on your bed, suppressants...

Wasn't this every trope in the book?!

Damn it all.

Bring it on, bring it on! I'm ready!

Yan Qingqiu thought in despair: Isn't it just cutting out a gland?

I, Yan Qingqiu, stand tall and proud! I once dared to choose the gland-removal option, so now I dare to... actually cut it.