Chapter 59

In her mind, Yan Qingqiu made all sorts of vows to her ancestors, firmly determined to uphold the Yan family's dignity and not disgrace the family name. She'd have sworn to heaven if she could.

She also prayed the ancestors would bless her debut performance!

As she was thinking, Moli and Miaomiao arrived. One had fair skin, the other dark. The three of them walking together would look like three different shades.

Moli grabbed a thermos and spotted a plate of strawberries on the table. "Can I have one?"

Yan Qingqiu generously pushed the plate over, popped one in her own mouth, and let the other two each take one. Moli was ER's star model—the only one of the original four who'd stayed with the company. Su Xingjie said she was a bit airheaded but fiercely loyal, the classic "beautiful idiot" type.

Probably because she was too dumb, people were afraid she'd spill secrets, so no one had ever tried to poach her.

She wasn't mixed-race, just a pure fair-skinned beauty with dark blonde hair.

Moli ate a strawberry and, as something occurred to her, said, "Did you know? That Miss Song who's always with you—she beat up Qiqi and the others. She's the strongest alpha I've ever seen."

Moli was herself an alpha, a high-level one at that. She was very curious about Song Qingre.

"Qiqi? Who's Qiqi?" Yan Qingqiu didn't recognize the name and looked puzzled. Hearing an unprompted claim that Song Qingre had hit someone felt excessive to her. She frowned. "Song Qingre is an artist. She wouldn't resort to violence."

"Qiqi is one of the group that used to be close with Fu Sang. Last time when you were training, didn't you bring Song Qingre along? You were sitting across from them, and afterward Song Qingre beat them up," Moli said between bites of strawberry.

Yan Qingqiu thought back and shook her head. "That never happened."

"Those three—or four—were pretty cliquey. Song Qingre couldn't possibly take on all four alone. There were even alphas among them. She's just an ordinary alpha—no way she could beat all of them. They must have made it up."

Moli took another strawberry. Speaking from her own experience, she couldn't 1v4 either. "That makes sense. Qiqi and her crew always exaggerate."

Miaomiao sat on a high stool nearby and said, "Miss Song even treated them to a meal that day. Didn't they go? If they'd been beaten up, they wouldn't have gone—they'd have raised hell."

"Exactly," Yan Qingqiu defended Song Qingre. "These people... Song Qingre treated them to dinner that day, and then they go back and badmouth her? I'm never speaking to them again. I'll give them the cold shoulder too."

Moli had heard the story and was curious, so she'd come to chat about it. She meant no harm—she was just a bit simple and spoke bluntly.

The System wanted to chime in too: 【Usually, it's the villain who's actually responsible.】

Yan Qingqiu stuffed a strawberry into her mouth. 【If you say a villain did it, then they definitely didn't. You systems are just biased.】

System: 【Do you want me to shock you?】

Yan Qingqiu: 【Go ahead. If you do, you're a biased piece of trash—you don't even favor the heroine. You're sucking up to the scumbag.】

The System fell silent, and all Yan Qingqiu could hear was static buzzing in her ears. It came in spurts, now catching, now frantic.

Yan Qingqiu said, 【A-Tong, let's coexist peacefully. We don't need to tear each other apart. I'm 24 now. I've grown up. I know how to weigh the pros and cons.】

System: 【You've grown up? I think you're just as foolish as before.】

Yan Qingqiu squeezed the strawberry hard, juice staining her fingertips. Before... do you people even know what kind of "before" I have?

"Oh, right." Moli, having eaten two strawberries, said, "Director Su just asked me to pass along a message. She added another bit—she wants you to throw your bag during the runway show."

"Throw the bag? Why?" Yan Qingqiu snapped back to attention, confused.

"No clue. You can ask her in a bit." Moli turned and spotted Su Xingjie. "Star AD, come here."

Su Xingjie tilted her head toward them. Yan Qingqiu loved watching Su Xingjie in a suit. She wore a silver suit with a black sweater underneath, the jacket hanging open to frame her full chest. Her fingers were in her pockets holding something; a few seconds later, she pulled out a pair of glasses and put them on.

Damn.

Woman. Suit. Glasses.

I really want my sister to step on me.

Yan Qingqiu quickly reined in her thoughts. Sisters are sisters; you don't get horny when you're not supposed to.

Yan Qingqiu raised her hand and called out, "Babe, gorgeous—you look so sexy today."

She pulled out a chair, and as Su Xingjie walked over, Yan Qingqiu immediately made her sit beside her.

Su Xingjie's face, which had been serious, broke into a smile the moment she saw her. "You're the one who looks good today."

The two besties exchanged compliments, then Yan Qingqiu asked, "Moli just told me I'm supposed to throw the bag. What's that about?"

"It's just an extra bit. If you don't drop it, how will people know there's gold in your bag? In a bit, I'll take you upstairs to try it. If it works, we'll use it. If not, we'll scrap it. It's not mandatory." Su Xingjie said.

"Absolutely not. We have to achieve your perfect vision. You decide what's best—I'll follow your lead, Director Su."

That last title made Su Xingjie chuckle. "You're making me shy with that."

"Director Su!" Yan Qingqiu kept calling.

Su Xingjie laughed, rubbed her nose, checked her watch, and said, "You new models, go upstairs and test the stage feel again. Let's go."

The "new models" she referred to had actually walked several shows already. The only true newbie present was Yan Qingqiu.

Su Xingjie led her upstairs. Yan Qingqiu didn't see Song Qingre; she waited, but she still hadn't shown up, so she made a call.

Song Qingre returned the call. "There are a few more details to confirm. You go up with Su Xingjie for now. I'll come find you in a bit."

Yan Qingqiu got up and followed Su Xingjie, their arms linked. Yan Qingqiu genuinely found Su Xingjie magnetic when she worked. She squeezed Su Xingjie's sleeve. "This show is great—it shows how amazing Xing Xing is. I'm light-years behind."

"You're amazing too, you were just too love-struck before. Qiu Bao, back in school, I always thought you were meant to shine in the spotlight, radiant under the stars."

The art gallery's glass reflected the two of them. Yan Qingqiu said, "Lately you keep reminiscing about our school days."

"Because that's the feeling Qiu Bao gives me." Su Xingjie looked at her. "If it weren't winter, I'd design you a school uniform."

"Can't wait."

Yan Qingqiu might have a laid-back heart, but that didn't stop her from admiring and hyping up her best friend.

The previous transmigrator never once watched Su Xingjie's shows, missing out on so many. What a waste—"she" had been too busy chasing Fu Ye to spare any time for her best friend, let alone help her.

Yan Qingqiu felt pretty lucky.

After half an hour of training upstairs, Su Xingjie was called down to the first floor—Song Qingre's painter friends had arrived to nail down a few more details.

Su Xingjie went to the ground floor, went through several items, and then Song Qingre, standing at the backstage exit, gave her a look—a signal to look at that little corner.

With her glasses on, Su Xingjie spotted Fu Ye in an instant. Fu Ye saw them too. He sat there with his long legs crossed, a look that said, "What are you going to do about it?" Su Xingjie was a high-level omega, and she could tell just by looking that Fu Ye was definitely in rut. "I told you not to let him in today—"

Song Qingre pressed a finger to her lips. "This isn't your problem. With his status and position, he has free access to these kinds of events."

Then she said, "Keep the model show going for now. When it's almost over, make a call to the police."

"The police?" Su Xingjie frowned. "Why not just throw him out? What if he wants revenge on Qiu Bao, wants to mark her outright?"

"I won't give him that chance." Song Qingre asked, "Are you in?"

Su Xingjie was confused. Weren't they already in this together?

But she was also sharp, and she asked back, "So you've got it all planned?"

"You're the final piece," Song Qingre said.

They stared at each other, then both turned to look at Fu Ye.

Song Qingre said, "He got in with a ticket. If you throw him out now, he'll make a scene and hurt your show—you'd be in the wrong. But if you call the police first, and nothing happens, great. If something does happen, you can wash your hands of it and still send him in."

Her tone was calm, but the last few words carried real weight.

Su Xingjie paused, understanding. She turned without hesitation and pulled out her phone to call her assistant. "Shishi, call the police station and see if they can send auxiliary officers to help..."

For large events like theirs, where a mixed ABO crowd would be present, it was standard practice to request auxiliary police support. Su Xingjie had just made heavy security arrangements—she'd signed with the country's largest security company, installed many suppressive devices around the venue, and required every guest to wear a suppression wristband upon entry, plus a fever check. She'd previously thought it unnecessary to bother the police, but now it clearly was.

Su Xingjie had calculated many things, but never that Fu Ye would be so shameless—he was in rut, and as a high-level alpha he should've been at home, not crashing a major event like this.

With Song Qingre's tip-off, Su Xingjie wasn't about to miss this chance. She wanted revenge on Fu Ye too, to make him suffer a bit.

Su Xingjie went to instruct the camera crews to flash frequently in Fu Ye's direction, letting the whole world see his humiliation.

After handling that, she did a round of the venue, going back and forth, then got off her hoverboard—her assistant stowed it—and headed backstage to check on the models, calling Yan Qingqiu to come down.

Song Qingre, done with her work, also slipped backstage. Busy as she was, her body temperature ran high—she'd unbuttoned three buttons on her shirt, and her white suit jacket hung looser because of it.

A ruby sat at her cuff, catching little glints of light.

It matched her lip color today.

Su Xingjie checked her watch and told the models, "You need to hurry with your makeup. Have you eaten? Don't go onstage hungry. Eat first."

Yan Qingqiu spotted Song Qingre coming over and frowned, immediately asking where she'd been. Song Qingre told her about spotting Fu Ye.

Yan Qingqiu's guess had been spot-on: this plot point didn't hinge on whether she went into heat, but on Fu Ye. Once his rut hit, Yan Qingqiu was inevitably dragged along.

"So what do we do?" Yan Qingqiu was worried. What if Fu Ye ignored all warnings and triggered her heat? She looked at Song Qingre. "You have to keep watch outside the venue at all times."

"Mm. If anything happens to me, call a doctor right away and get me to the hospital."

"Nothing will happen. Don't worry." Song Qingre handed her a shawl. "Call out if you need anything."

She wanted to touch her hair, but seeing the stylist's meticulous work, she quietly drew her hand back.

The show began at six in the evening, and there was quite a lot on display.

ER wasn't a luxury brand; each season they focused on many affordable pieces.

Su Xingjie had her own philosophy: no need to inflate prices just for the sake of it. A garment should cost what it costs—only if it's truly beautiful can it command a high price.

She had once designed a sky-high-priced couture piece that solidified her place in the fashion world; that gown was rented out to celebrities every year.

On schedule, Su Xingjie stood at the exit and gestured to them. "Don't be nervous for the warm-up."

Outside, piano music played, its tune gentle.

Yan Qingqiu took a deep breath.

She followed the other models out. There were no gasps from the crowd, but enough surprise—everyone's eyes landed on her. Her fingers hooked around ER's new handbag, and as if drawn by something, her fingers paused. The bag dropped, exposing the gold bars inside. At first, people assumed it was a mistake. Then she casually hooked the bag back up, and they realized it was "flaunting wealth"—the bag was stuffed with gold bars. Rich people, so reckless.

Yan Qingqiu, meanwhile, was thinking: these fake gold bars are seriously heavy.

The audience thought: How arrogant—carrying that many gold bars and still so casual about it.

In the corner, Fu Ye nearly stood up. Was that Yan Qingqiu? He never would've imagined that she could be so dazzling. If she'd always shone like this, why would he have liked Song Qingre?

Yan Qingqiu wore a short black-rose coat over a straight skirt—simple winter wear, yet she made it look sexy.

She believed her beauty came from two things: her sister's support, and Song Qingre's artistic atmosphere.

The warm-up was glamorous enough; the visuals that followed would be even more spectacular. The cameras on both sides clicked away frantically.

Then the room went dark, and when it lit up again, the backdrop was pulled aside to reveal models in even more striking, seductive outfits.

Before going on, Yan Qingqiu had sneaked a peek—the gallery was packed, and she didn't recognize a single face.

This show faced the world's cameras; both sides were packed with journalists and major fashion press.

The lights blazed down on the center of the runway. It was hard to tell whether the models were looking at the paintings, or whether the twisted paintings were looking at them.

Yan Qingqiu's golden hair stood out anywhere; the gallery's paintings all seemed to cast their colors in service of her.

After the viewing, the models disappeared behind the wall, and when they emerged, their faces were covered by masks.

Each mask was painted in eerie, twisted styles.

The mask was meant to cover a person's face, but at that moment, it seemed to tear through the surface, revealing the warped bones underneath.

Each mask fit their features perfectly.

A white tiger-head jasmine bloomed—jasmine loves the sun, and its layered repetition exposed its flaws; the parts untouched by light had turned withered and yellow.

On the other side, the dark-skinned supermodel wore a black leather suit that shimmered all over. In the middle of the two was the golden-haired model in a winding poison-moth mask.

The golden-haired model's outfit was bizarre: it seemed to concentrate all the vivid colors at the left and right onto her. A colorful butterfly-tail gown with a black strapless top.

Yan Qingqiu's neck burned. She made her first pass, stopping beside the giant pearl while the cameras snapped at her. Her neck was damp—the suppressive patch on her back had soaked through completely. She didn't show it during the walk, but the moment she hit backstage, she quickly swept her hair up.

Song Qingre sprayed disinfectant first, then applied a fresh suppressant patch. The assistant brought over new clothes. "Can you still go on?"

"I can. Let's go." Yan Qingqiu changed into the new piece and stepped back out. Song Qingre clutched her clothes as Yan Qingqiu walked out at Su Xingjie's signal. Song Qingre still held the garment—it smelled strongly, damp with her scent. Their compatibility was high, but off by one percent. They said fated mates usually both went into heat synchronously, reaching perfect compatibility and allowing full marking at any moment.

She lowered her head and breathed in the fabric.

Ji Xiangsi turned and caught the exact moment. Her heart stopped. She slowly, in disbelief, turned her head away.

Wasn't Song the artist's image crumbling a bit too hard? She just sniffed Yan Qingqiu's clothes.

Yan Qingqiu was showing three winter outfits and two couture gowns today; the winter pieces were all piled in Song Qingre's arms. When Yan Qingqiu noticed her standing stock-still during touch-ups, she quickly told Ji Xiangsi, "Get her a bag to hold those. Don't let her keep carrying them—it's exhausting."

Song Qingre bagged the clothes, then reached out to touch the back of Yan Qingqiu's neck. It was soaked through again. Yan Qingqiu blinked at her. "Do you like my gland?"

"I do. It smells wonderful."

Yan Qingqiu looked around—no one watching—then tugged her collar down. "Then get a few more licks in, just in case you never get the chance again."

"I'll give you ten minutes."

Song Qingre took a deep breath. Her hand wanted to land on Yan Qingqiu's face, to cup it, but seeing the makeup, she held back.

Yan Qingqiu laughed and ran off. Song Qingre's breathing grew ragged.

By the end of the show, Yan Qingqiu could clearly feel her body about to give out. God, she couldn't even take a single breath of air without it overwhelming her.

Even from this far, she could smell it—so sweet.

But at least her gland wasn't entirely losing its mind this time. It was different from the first time; back then she'd craved Fu Ye's scent, but now she felt repulsed by it.

The models took down the paintings from the walls and displayed them while wearing their masks. Yan Qingqiu went to retrieve Song Qingre's piece—it depicted two butterflies chasing each other's tails.

A platform extended over the third floor; the auctioneer stood there with a finely textured rosewood gavel.

The models held the framed paintings against their waists, like skeletal demons who'd shed their human skin, peddling their artwork to humanity.

Qiang Wei was the last to come out. Her gown was also by Su Xingjie: pink roses stacked layer upon layer across the skirt. She walked out with her chin high, and at that moment, everyone stood and applauded as she made her way to the center of the stage. Everyone knew she'd been hurt, knew how hard it was for her to stand on that runway.

Those collapsed, warped walls began to change; from the cracked seams, several rose branches burst into bloom.

Hope in the cracks; petals like winter snow.

She was the only model without a mask, her exquisite face fully revealed.

Those rumors crumbled on their own. Su Xingjie wasn't putting on this show for anyone's sake, nor had she designed it with everyone as mere decoration.

Classics are classics.

When the show ended, Su Xingjie rode out on her hoverboard, the models following behind her. When they reached the center of the stage, the models removed their masks and bowed to the audience. Only then did everyone realize—oh, the show's over.

They had no choice but to admire it: Su Xingjie and Song Qingre's artistic union was unprecedented. No other show in the country or abroad could beat them.

Even if Yan Qingqiu wasn't the finale, she was undeniably the one showered with the most affection.

Back in the backstage area, Song Qingre handed her a down jacket. "Wait for me outside. My car is parked across from the art center."

"Okay." Yan Qingqiu took her bag and headed out. Ji Xiangsi thought about helping, but Song Qingre called her over and stopped her.

Yan Qingqiu reached the door, turned for a glance—Song Qingre had gone to the stage. She was curious and wanted to go take a look.

Her feet... shuffled toward the stage area.

Because Su Xingjie had given a heads-up, the cameraman deliberately angled a shot to the corner, sweeping toward Fu Ye's direction. Fu Ye's condition was poor; his face was ashen and pale, his brow taut, every ounce of strength seemingly wound tight.

People watching the livestream mocked him: 【I used to think that after Yan Qingqiu left him, she couldn't survive. Didn't expect her to be shining now. I kind of want to stan her—she's really cute.】

【Did you see that Luo Xi? She was sharing a chair with some woman. Tsk, even Luo Xi's moved on. Clearly this guy's useless.】

【Is Fu Ye in rut? Why does he look like he's losing control?】

【No way. For an event this big, he wouldn't be stupid enough to come cause trouble, right?】

【Are you all just too man-hating? No matter how crazy Fu Ye is, he wouldn't go into heat here. I thought the show was just okay—didn't they just twist a bunch of things? What's the appeal? Where's the classic?】

【Oh shit oh shit, something's happening! Fu Ye really is in rut! Sister Xing's people are asking him to leave! Good thing the show's over, or Fu Ye would've been vicious—was he trying to ruin this beautiful show?】

【This is broadcasting worldwide. If Fu Ye goes into rut here, the impact is huge. Is he brain-damaged? I'm starting to worry about the Fu Corporation's operations.】

Fu Ye had calculated that he wouldn't go into rut on the spot, planning to let it erupt when he caught Yan Qingqiu. But somehow, his rut seemed to have been triggered early, and now he was raging with agitation.

The two betas nearby seemed to have sprayed something—an omega heat-inducing pheromone spray, and at extremely high concentration.

His body felt awful now.

"Chen Ni, can you smell that?" Fu Ye asked.

Chen Ni was an alpha, but he smelled nothing. "What? I don't smell anything. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Fu Ye watched Yan Qingqiu standing at the edge of the backstage area. He wanted to stand too, but as soon as he took a step forward, his legs felt weak.

Then he caught the scent: a rich, mellow omega pheromone.

It was especially targeted at high-level alphas, constantly stimulating their senses.

They were about to stand when two security guards appeared and immediately pressed down on his shoulders.

"Director Su caught him. Should we restrain him?"

Fu Ye sensed something wrong, tried to struggle, but was pinned down hard. The guard radioed Su Xingjie: "Director Su, he's still struggling. What should we do?"

Su Xingjie said, "I'm evacuating the omegas now. If he dares to move, suppress him immediately—use mental force."

"Understood."

Chen Ni quickly said, "Mistake, it's all a mistake. We're leaving right now."

"And where do you think you're going? Our staff told you several times already—if either of you felt unwell, you should've informed the medical team. It's closing time now, and you haven't moved an inch. Who are you trying to fool?"

The smell grew stronger, and Fu Ye could barely endure it. He felt like he'd fallen into some kind of trap. He struggled to his feet and shoved aside the security guard. The guard radioed for backup, and more familiar scents came up the stairs—cedar, amber, pepper... all of them made him entranced; these were the scents he wanted to mark. His chest felt tight, like something was about to break free. He hastily used his mental force to crush the two guards beside him, but they grabbed his arms hard.

"Requesting backup—this is a high-level alpha, we can't hold him. He's in an agitated state."

"Mistake, this must be a mistake. Director Fu just wants to leave. We can cooperate." Chen Ni tried to persuade the guards, then pressed Fu Ye down. "Director Fu, don't panic. Let's talk this through calmly. I'll talk to them. Just stay still—this is all a misunderstanding."

An agitated alpha couldn't hear reason. Fu Ye was irritable, restless—a change had already stirred below. "What are you dawdling for? Get me out of here first. Can't you see I've been set up? Su Xingjie and Song Qingre are in this together—they're playing us!"

Chen Ni genuinely couldn't smell that pheromone. The guards wouldn't let them leave, and he had no way out. They were drawing more and more attention, and the evacuation was slowing. Another guard arrived holding a muzzle. The guard said politely, "Apologies, but we'll need to put this muzzle on you."

Fu Ye refused to let anyone touch him. He spotted Song Qingre. She was leaning against the backstage door, giving him a faint smile—the smile of someone whose scheme had succeeded.

Song Qingre smiled without restraint, like a poisonous rose blooming quietly, while Fu Ye's nose filled with the thick, cloying scent.

He shoved the guard's hand away. He wouldn't let them put the muzzle on—afraid they'd laced it with something too.

His mental force crushed outward. As Chen Ni reached for him, Fu Ye shoved even him aside and stumbled toward the exit, his heat scent heavy around him. The people at the door panicked, a chorus of frightened cries rising as the crowd clogged the backstage area. The only way out was brute force. Only now did he realize he'd been trapped from the very start—the trap was just so deep that he couldn't even tell where Song Qingre was heading.

Leaving was the best option.

But he soon discovered he'd been fooled again. Several alphas, unable to withstand his mental force, turned and walked straight toward him, fists clenched, swinging at his face.

Fu Ye dodged, but the backup guards arrived. In the scuffle, someone seemed to grab his gland—and then it was torn open.

Pain.

"Chen Ni, Chen Ni, call the police. Call an ambulance."

"There's a doctor on-site. Just bear with—"

"No doctor! Call the police! Now! Ambulance!" Fu Ye screamed. Chen Ni had no choice but to follow his orders. Fu Ye's brows were drawn tight, and he immediately looked toward the backstage area—Song Qingre was gone. It was like a twisted illusion, vanishing in an instant.

Chen Ni knew exactly why Fu Ye feared Song Qingre so much: the woman's methods were lethal. You never knew what she was doing until the very last moment.

He'd been tailing her, expecting her to slip up, only to turn around and find Song Qingre standing there, as if she'd never planned to leave at all. She'd even reframed his "stalking" as "turning from darkness to light."

Unbelievable.

Song Qingre watched the scene unfold and texted Yan Qingqiu: 【Is your neck feeling better?】

Yan Qingqiu replied: 【Yeah, it's fine. Weird, though.】

Song Qingre sent a voice message. "Mm, that's good. Wait in the car for me—I'll come to you soon."

She left through the backstage. Because of the alpha's rut outside, the omegas backstage had already left early, and the scents had been cleaned up. Even Yan Qingqiu had gone to wait in the car outside.

"Miss Song, all the paintings have been auctioned off today. Take a look at the contract—when would you like to pick up the pieces..."

"Mm, I'll have Huajian handle it later." Song Qingre said warmly, "We'll finish the contract right away."

She shook the other person's hand politely, smiling. The other party blushed under her gaze. But what the person didn't know was that Song Qingre's eyes merely reflected her image—she never committed a single expression or feature to memory.

After the handshake, Song Qingre walked on, passing the models' training area, which now looked like a maze of mirrors. She leaned against one, and her reflection multiplied in every direction. She leaned back and laughed softly; every mirror showed her smile. It was hard to say how eerie it was, but her face, her expression—they were enough to make anyone tremble. She said to the mirror, "Pleasure working with you."

Behind the door, Su Xingjie, who had just raised her hand to knock, paused.

Pleasure working with you?

Was that about working with her?

Su Xingjie was also afraid of Song Qingre, but that fear brought a sense of safety. If Qiu Bao was going to stay with her like this—as long as she didn't hurt Qiu Bao—she... was dependable, right?

Su Xingjie hummed to herself. She didn't say anything else and turned to walk away.

Song Qingre stood there, using the mirror to steady her expression.

Her phone kept vibrating; her fingers felt numb.

It was all the painters thanking her—those talented artists with no connections, promising to repay her someday.

That'd be great.

Song Qingre initially didn't want to reply, but she spotted a new message. Yan Qingqiu: 【I'm heading back first? I'm taking your car.】

Song Qingre smiled. Fast little thing.

She typed back: 【Not waiting for me?】

The crowd outside hadn't dispersed. Fu Ye was pinned down, and a doctor tried to inject a suppressant into his neck—but Fu Ye snapped the syringe in half and slashed a long gash across his own neck.

Yan Qingqiu wasn't stupid either. Best to put as much distance between herself and the venue as possible—who knew if Fu Ye might go mad and burst out.

She got into the car and drove off in Song Qingre's vehicle. She didn't dare let anyone else drive; she'd do it herself while she was still in decent shape, even if she drove as slow as a turtle.

The System was raging in her head, upset that she'd left first. Yan Qingqiu wanted to say, she wasn't dumb; she wasn't about to wait around to get fucked by Fu Ye.

Now, far from the stage, her body felt less miserable.

Fu Ye was under the doctor's control now, so he couldn't go into rut—which meant Yan Qingqiu was safe.

Yan Qingqiu suddenly realized this Route ③ could be cracked: since it depended on Fu Ye's rut, as long as he didn't go into heat, she'd be completely safe.

Next...

As long as Song Qingre didn't get into her bed, this plot point couldn't proceed at all, and the System couldn't do a thing to her.

The problem was, she had to make sure Song Qingre never climbed into her bed.

So from the very beginning, the System had left two steps. If she wanted to skip the plot, she couldn't let Song Qingre into her bed, which meant no sex with Song Qingre, no deep emotional connection.

At the start, she'd had to avoid Song Qingre, afraid to sleep with her... the System had planned it all.

From another angle, the System didn't want her to have sex with Song Qingre.

Yan Qingqiu pondered this as she drove, extremely slowly.

Song Qingre today... seemed kind of like she was helping her push the plot along?

Her body was heating up more slowly. At a red light, she texted Song Qingre: 【Don't come to my room tonight. Get yourself a room.】

【Okay.】 Song Qingre replied.

Yan Qingqiu touched her gland. Now that Song Qingre had marked it, it had become docile.

She finally reached the hotel, but the System was still yapping because she refused to help Fu Ye—it was going full meltdown: 【If you don't complete the task, do you want to stay Platonic with Song Qingre forever? This plot point is already triggered—unless Song Qingre never crawls into your bed for the rest of her life.】

"That's fine. She can sleep on top of me. It's just a plot point, no big deal."

【Don't talk out loud!】

The System warned. Yan Qingqiu covered her mouth. Ugh, what could she do? Sometimes, when she got excited, she couldn't help showing off.

Who in their right mind doesn't talk with their mouth?

A moment later, its tone softened a bit. 【If you don't want to cut it out, fine. Go find Fu Ye right now—help each other relieve it, and you pass this plot point. I'll give you two hours to complete it.】

Yan Qingqiu frowned. Wasn't this just delivering herself to his doorstep?

She deliberately shouted toward the door: "Song Qingre."

The System broke down: 【You're so shameless. You're absolutely fucking embarrassing.】

Yan Qingqiu craned her neck. "Song Qingre, come! Ruin me! I'll give you two hours to ruin me!"

Two hours to go find Fu Ye? Like hell she would!

Yan Qingqiu swiped her room card.

"Entering the plot yet?"

"Nope... hee hee, the plot isn't just something you can trigger anymore... It depends on whether I let Song Qingre lie down."

She walked into the bedroom and pressed the wall light switch. At the same time, the bedside lamp clicked on—their eyes met directly.

Song Qingre was lying on the bed, her coat off, wearing a thin sleep shirt. She sat by the bed with a gentle smile, phone in hand, lifting her head to look at her, her lips pressing together softly.

Yan Qingqiu stared at her lips and swallowed. Whether it was because of the mark, her neck began to heat up.

She wanted to ask Song Qingre why... how she'd gotten back early—but then she remembered her own driving. Of course Song Qingre had arrived first.

Song Qingre's eyes brimmed with amusement. She asked, "Mm? How do you want me to ruin you? Qiu Qiu, you sounded so desperate just now."

Yan Qingqiu felt her head spin and her legs go weak. She seemed to be fully in heat. A small "ding" sounded in her head, like the System's last struggle, violently slammed back down by Song Qingre's presence.

Omega instinct: seeing an alpha, she wanted to be marked. She wanted to back away, but she also longed for Song Qingre to bite her, to fuck her. Her face burned.

Song Qingre was breathing, in and out, and with each breath, Yan Qingqiu's gland couldn't take it. She could smell the sweetness thickening in the air.

Song Qingre crooked a finger at her. "You said you wanted to kiss during the show, didn't you? Come over and let me ruin you properly."

Yan Qingqiu was in pain and ecstasy, her feet shuffling forward, her head turning back.

She reached the bed. Song Qingre pinched her chin and leaned in to kiss her. Yan Qingqiu still wanted to negotiate with the System.

"A-Tong, dear A-Tong."

"It's not that I'm afraid of the pain or anything. It's just that this white moonlight woman has a sweet mouth, and I'm addicted. I want to develop a romance line with her!"

"Don't cut it off! I'll do it for you to see!"

Song Qingre's smiling eyes narrowed, a question in them. Her gaze on Yan Qingqiu's face turned dangerous, and her voice went ice-cold in an instant. "Qiu Qiu, who's A-Tong? And who is this white moonlight woman? Who exactly do you want to develop a romance line with?"

Shit.

I talked out loud again.

"..."