Chapter 61

Yan Qingqiu was truly terrified, whimpering in pain even as she asked.

"Yes, you will," the doctor said reassuringly, hastily signaling the nurses to wheel her in and prepare the examination equipment. Seeing the patient's extremely unstable condition, she added, "Don't worry, these can usually be cured."

It was their first time encountering someone so resilient—she'd been whimpering for ages but hadn't passed out, her face deathly pale.

The elevator was cleared out, and Yan Qingqiu was wheeled inside.

The doctor said, "Maybe don't get too tense for now. Why don't you just faint first? Otherwise, we'll have to give you anesthesia directly on your gland."

Yan Qingqiu had been dizzy at first, her head spinning and nauseous, but she'd held on for so long that now, even though she wanted to faint, she remained painfully alert.

Her face crumpled in misery.

Song Qingre kept soothing her, patting her shoulder. Yan Qingqiu was worried about being photographed—she'd just finished a runway show, and if this made it onto any trending social topics, she'd never be able to hold her head up in public again for the rest of her life.

Lost in thought, she was pushed into the operating room. Yan Qingqiu had never been seriously ill, nor had she ever undergone surgery at a hospital. Staring at the operating room ahead, fear gripped her. She grabbed Song Qingre's hand. "Come with me, come with me, please. I'm scared."

The doctor pulled her hand back and said, "This isn't a delivery room, patient. Don't be nervous."

Her tone was resigned.

Yan Qingqiu was terrified—what if she woke up and her gland had been removed? She had almost no one in this world she could truly trust.

"Okay, don't be scared, don't be scared." Song Qingre kept comforting her until they reached the door, where the doctor closed it.

Song Qingre was shut outside. She frowned, peering through the window. A nurse came over with forms for her to sign and fill out, asking, "What is your relation to the patient?"

Song Qingre replied, "Her fiancée."

She pressed the pen to paper and signed: Song Qingre.

Song Qingre? The nurse gave her a second look, surprise flickering in her eyes—it was her. She glanced up at the patient's name on the form: Yan Qingqiu… This was a bombshell of epic proportions.

After finishing, Song Qingre handed back the pen and paper, glancing at the nurse's name badge. "Your hospital's confidentiality measures are good, right?"

The nurse nodded. "Remember to go pay at the counter with the form, and also complete the admission procedures."

Song Qingre asked, "How is she doing? Will her gland be all right?"

"Not sure. We'll have to wait until the doctor comes out."

Song Qingre went to handle all the paperwork with her phone. When everything was done, Yan Qingqiu still hadn't come out of surgery. Song Qingre paced back and forth outside the door. She hadn't called anyone else—mainly because Yan Qingqiu didn't want to call anyone, being rather proud of her image.

Song Qingre took a deep breath and bit her lip hard.

Soon, the doctor emerged. Song Qingre hurried over. "How is she?"

"There's a bit of trouble with her gland. You helped her through her heat?"

Song Qingre nodded. "Yes, what's wrong?"

"How many days?"

"Seven days…" Song Qingre trailed off as she noticed the doctor studying her, the doctor's eyes holding a great deal of confusion. She narrowed her eyes, and Song Qingre had to be more precise. "It might have been seven days and seven nights."

The doctor's gaze turned even stranger. "You're joking, right? Seven days and seven nights? Is that even possible? A conservative estimate?"

"…Huh?"

"You two…" The doctor nodded, saying, "You two are—well, you young people are pretty impressive."

Song Qingre didn't quite grasp what she meant, but before she could ask further, the doctor went back inside. Left on her own, Song Qingre pulled out her phone to search: *What to do if the gland of a compatible partner is bitten and damaged during heat*. The answers were all over the place—every doctor's experience differed, and their responses differed accordingly. Reading them made her heart race with anxiety.

Two hours later, Yan Qingqiu was wheeled out.

Song Qingre hurried over. "How is she, doctor?"

"It's been successful so far. Once she's awake, I'll check her again. Her gland is quite complicated—might be because her rank is so high." The doctor frowned. Song Qingre looked down at Yan Qingqiu, whose eyes were still open, blinking slowly, filled with confusion.

Song Qingre's heart tightened. Something felt off.

She looked like she'd gone brain-dead.

The doctor was about to say she'd been given anesthesia and was still under its effects, but Yan Qingqiu was too spirited. Yan Qingqiu shouted, "Eagle!"

Song Qingre was puzzled. "What?"

"She's too tough." The doctor clicked her tongue, saying seriously, "In a way, she's got great physical fitness. Pretty fierce."

"Wild goose, big eagle, little goofball!" Yan Qingqiu said.

The anesthesia hadn't worn off, and Yan Qingqiu was in a foul mood, mumbling continuously, "And I'm different, I'm a big silly eagle!"

"Huh? What?" Song Qingre walked beside the stretcher. Yan Qingqiu pointed at the ceiling. "A big silly eagle!"

"Flying and flying, flying up to the ceiling, slap-slap!"

"Seven days and seven nights, we almost did it on the ceiling! Fly, fly, I'm a big silly eagle!"

"Oh my god, my brain hurts, it hurts a bit! Big silly eagle, big silly eagle!"

"The anesthesia hasn't worn off yet, she's a bit out of it now," the nurse said, stifling a laugh. "This is normal. She'll be fine once the drugs metabolize."

Song Qingre was puzzled. "Why does she keep saying 'eagle'?"

The nurse said, "You'll have to ask her that yourself."

Yan Qingqiu's neck hurt, her head hurt too. Staring at the corridor ceiling, she felt like something was zapping her. "Don't stop me, I'm going to fly! Fly higher, fly farther, fly, fly!"

She flapped her hands, mimicking flight. Worried she'd hurt herself, Song Qingre reached out to restrain her. Yan Qingqiu grabbed Song Qingre's hand and pressed it to her lips, kissing it. "Song big eagle, come with Yan-gege. Yan-gege will give you twenty square meters of love! The ceiling's got plenty! Bring it on, another damn seven days and seven nights! Yan-gege loves you! Love you!"

Yan Qingqiu hollered the whole way, and even the nurse couldn't help but laugh, genuinely puzzled. "Is she obsessed with the ceiling or something?"

Song Qingre didn't know how to answer. She couldn't quite grasp Yan Qingqiu's thought process, though she could barely make out "Yan-gege."

"Yan-gege doesn't sound good. Call me Yan-daddy! Or Yan-grammy! 'Little milk mom' works too! Damn it, System, I'll f*ck your whole family!"

"Oh my god, my brain hurts!"

Song Qingre frowned slightly. Yan Qingqiu tried to sit up on the stretcher again, thinking she was the eagle person who'd defeated the System and needed to bow to heaven and earth with Song Qingre. But before she could even get up to kneel, she was pressed back down, flipped over, and pinned by the shoulders as they wheeled her into the ward.

"A big eagle's beak has a shell! Pointy and hard—how does it even kiss!"

"She should be lucid in about half an hour. She might fuss a bit, then sleep. You need to keep her under control and make sure she doesn't hurt her neck," the nurse said once they'd finally gotten her back to the ward. "Don't let her twist her neck or jerk the wound."

Song Qingre nodded. Yan Qingqiu had calmed down now, lying face-down on the bed with her eyes closed, too tired to keep her senses. Her mouth seemed to be mumbling something—the big silly eagle had turned into a goose. *Goose, goose, goose, singing to the sky with a bent neck*, and she was going to stew the goose in an iron pot! Eat goose!

Song Qingre sat beside her. She was actually a bit tired too, her fingers interlaced on her knee. She leaned forward, brushing the hair from Yan Qingqiu's forehead, and examined her gland. Her heart ached!

She narrowed her eyes. Whenever Yan Qingqiu stirred, she had to get up and check. Song Qingre hadn't slept well, but Yan Qingqiu, thanks to the last dregs of anesthesia, seemed to be lost in a wild, tangled dream.

Yan Qingqiu opened her eyes. The chair beside her was empty. She tried to turn over but heard voices. Frowning, she twisted her neck around to look behind her—the pain was unbearable. She found several people in police uniforms.

They seemed to be talking to Song Qingre, expressions grim. Dazed, Yan Qingqiu grabbed a pillow and shouted, "Hey! Get away from her! How dare you bully my big fat eagle whom I've married under heaven and earth! Do you know what you're doing, little cop? Take my attack!"

She picked up the pillow and hurled it. It smacked against the door, and the people outside turned at the noise.

Song Qingre quickly opened the door. "What's wrong?"

Yan Qingqiu met her gaze, then looked at the people outside. She snapped back to reality, mortified—she'd just said out loud something from her dream, making a complete fool of herself like a silly goose.

"I'm fine, I was just out of it from sleeping. What are those people outside doing?"

As the outsiders looked in, Song Qingre explained, "They came to ask about Fu Ye. They think I did it."

"Are you kidding me? I saw with my own eyes that he didn't listen to the doctor's orders. The doctor said he needed a suppressant, but he threw a tantrum, went crazy, and bent the suppressant syringe with his bare hands. Who does he have to blame for that? My gland got hurt too, but I listened to the doctor, and I'm doing fine now. You can't just blame everything on someone else!" Yan Qingqiu's mouth rattled off nonstop.

Song Qingre's brow furrowed slightly. *So… you saw it that day?*

"How… did you injure your neck?" the police officer asked, wondering if it was the same kind of situation.

"This, I—" Yan Qingqiu looked at Song Qingre, unsure how to answer. Too proud to lie, but embarrassed to tell the truth.

Song Qingre blinked and said, "Secondary differentiation. Her pheromones came in, and her gland was injured."

Yan Qingqiu leaned against the bed and nodded. Right, exactly that. A growing child, after all.

"He brought it on himself. Why blame Song Qingre? Whatever Fu Ye says goes, and you all just take it without asking around?"

"We're not blaming her," the officer said. "We're just gathering information."

Yan Qingqiu snorted. "Are you kidding me? You kicked the door before. Two kicks. I remember it clearly."

The officer fell silent. Yan Qingqiu hadn't been outside at the time, yet she could still tell. That was quite something—no wonder she was a high-rank omega.

High-rank omegas were extremely perceptive during bonding and held grudges. If their bonding was interrupted, they'd go mad, releasing pheromones to attack, and most alphas couldn't withstand it.

It was only now dawning on them how reckless kicking down that door had been. If those two had gotten angry, there probably would've been a pile of bodies outside. To put it bluntly, if not for the people inside showing mercy, everyone outside would've been goners.

As the saying goes, never strike someone who smiles at you. If you kick someone's door from the start, don't expect a smile in return.

Song Qingre's patience was wearing thin. "I'll have my lawyer contact you. Just because Fu Ye said a few things, I can't keep wasting time with him. When you have actual evidence, we'll talk again."

Then she added, "If you want the whole story, just watch the ER runway show. That's the fastest way. And if you're dying to know something, all I can say is I was there—one, to help maintain order, and two, to gloat, watching a scumbag reap what he sowed. If that's a crime, I'll gladly serve my sentence."

Her words left them speechless, completely silent.

They'd certainly seen the runway show. Fu Ye had been in heat from the very start. His assistant had warned him multiple times, but he was unresponsive, until he was finally restrained by security.

Every way you looked at it, it was Fu Ye's fault. But the whole thing had gone a little too smoothly—something felt off.

The officers stepped out and received another message. A colleague called to say ER had phoned, asking whether Fu Ye had broken the law by showing up and causing a disturbance at the event when he knew damn well his heat was coming. If the police wouldn't investigate, they'd issue a public statement and pursue a civil lawsuit instead.

No matter how you spun it, it all came down to one question: why did Fu Ye go to the event knowing full well he was in heat?

When you thought about it, he'd already broken the law by not following ABO regulations. With Su Xingjie pressing the case, the problem circled straight back to Fu Ye. The police could only make another trip, arranging a mediation between the Fu family and ER.

The best outcome was a private settlement. Otherwise, before Fu Ye could accuse Song Qingre, he'd have to wade through a lawsuit with ER first, and the police could do little in the face of capital slugging it out.

Song Qingre closed the door. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she asked, "Do you want something to eat?"

"Want me to get you an apple?"

"I want an orange. Peel me one," Yan Qingqiu said.

The fruit basket nearby had no oranges, so Song Qingre ordered some online to be delivered.

"Feeling a bit better?" Song Qingre asked.

Yan Qingqiu nodded. "Is my gland okay?"

Song Qingre went over to check. No bleeding—there was a bandage on it. "It's fine. It'll just take a month or two to recover. Don't worry."

Yan Qingqiu was moved to tears. *Wuwu, she was just so worried about her gland.*

"So what did you tell the doctor?"

"I said you cut it yourself." Before Yan Qingqiu could ask what happened next, Song Qingre continued, "Then the doctor said, after you two spent seven days and seven nights together, she cuts her own gland? What's wrong with her?"

Yan Qingqiu: "…"

*Dear god, why does that sound even more embarrassing?*

*After being marked for seven days and seven nights, the woman flew into a rage and cut her own gland. Is this a breakdown of morality or the extinction of humanity? Is it the woman's problem, or the other woman's problem?*

Yan Qingqiu slowly lay back down, silent. This wasn't just a little embarrassing—it was mortifying beyond belief. She buried her face in the pillow. After a while, the doctor came in to check on her. Now she was terrified of doctors, thinking it was too shameful.

The doctor had a stethoscope around her neck. Seeing her, she smiled and said, "Awake?"

Yan Qingqiu felt too awkward to respond. The doctor walked over, looked at her neck, and said, "You'll need to tie your hair up. No getting worked up for a while. Once your gland recovers, you'll know how to use it. Oh, and I have a few more questions for you."

Yan Qingqiu's mind was stuck on "Is that correct, patient?" and she said, somewhat despairingly, "Doctor, don't ask. It's just what you're thinking. It's like that."

The doctor laughed, glancing at Song Qingre beside her. "That's not what I'm asking. It's something else."

Yan Qingqiu was puzzled—what else could there be? She licked her lips and looked at the doctor. The doctor, a gentle woman in a white coat, said, "Do you still think you're a big eagle now? Do you still want to fly up to the ceiling? Have you turned into a big silly eagle?"

"Huh?" Yan Qingqiu was stunned. How did the doctor get into her dreams? She looked at Song Qingre, who couldn't help but turn her head slightly, lips pressed together, hiding a smile, refusing to look at Yan Qingqiu. Completely bewildered, Yan Qingqiu looked back at the doctor and asked, "What the heck?"

The nurse said, "Don't you remember? Hahaha, it's because the anesthesia hadn't worn off, and you kept saying you'd become a big eagle. That a big eagle flew to the ceiling, bonded there, and then you became a big silly eagle! Hahaha! Now let's see if the anesthesia had any effect on your gland."

With that, laughter filled the hospital room. Only Yan Qingqiu was on the verge of tears. She was in agony. Life itself was a joke, and she was the punchline. She wanted to ask what the point of her existence even was. So humiliating.

"To be honest, this relates to your gland," the doctor said seriously, listening to her heart.

"When I woke up, I thought I was an eagle, flapping around. Now I don't think I'm an eagle." *But I do feel like a silly goose!*

*Wuwu, I don't want to live anymore.*

"Then you're fine. A few months of rest, and you'll be good. Don't worry," the doctor said. "Your gland is in good shape. Just take good care of yourself during this time."

Yan Qingqiu couldn't get over this hurdle. She lay motionless on the bed. The doctor smiled and said, "Don't be embarrassed. This is normal when the anesthesia on the gland hasn't worn off yet. Remember to pick up your medication later and apply it properly. Follow the doctor's orders."

"Got it," Yan Qingqiu nodded.

She waited until the doctor had left before crawling up to catch her breath.

Song Qingre crossed her long legs and asked seriously, with genuine curiosity, "Qiuqiu, why did you want to turn into an eagle? And fly to the ceiling?"

Yan Qingqiu didn't answer. Song Qingre had become shameless, leaning in closer and closer, insisting on asking why, batting her eyes at her.

"That hotel ceiling—wasn't there an eagle on it?"

"…Wasn't that a falcon?" Song Qingre said.

The hotel they stayed at had a name with "falcon" in it, and the rooms were decorated with small falcon motifs. Song Qingre suddenly realized and said, "I never really noticed the ceiling."

"…Well, that's because when you were up there, either your nose was to the grindstone or you were looking down and ploughing ahead. How would you know anything?" Yan Qingqiu murmured in a low voice. When she was on top, she'd crane her neck, and with half-lidded eyes, she'd see that eagle—that falcon—spreading its wings and soaring.

Seven days and seven nights. They'd tried it in every corner, and her mind had always been hazy. But one thing she remembered clearly… they hadn't tried the ceiling. They'd tried everywhere else.

Yan Qingqiu's eyes widened slightly. "What else did I say?!"

Song Qingre leaned back. Yan Qingqiu only saw her smiling, lips pressed together, cheeks twitching slightly.

Yan Qingqiu said quietly, "You're still laughing. What's so funny? I'm in this state, and I don't want to talk to you anymore."

Song Qingre couldn't help it. She nodded, stood up, and said, "Sorry. I'll go get your stuff."

Song Qingre stepped out and leaned against the wall, laughing.

Yan Qingqiu sat on the bed, clutching the sheets, feeling a bit aggrieved. As if she were the weak one. Song Qingre had her moments of being clingy and dependent too.

At one point in the middle of it all, she'd lost control and couldn't take it anymore. She'd gone to the living room to get water, and when she turned around, Song Qingre was standing at the door, her eyes fixed on her. For a moment, she was terrified—scared Song Qingre would pin her down and treat her roughly. But Song Qingre hadn't been rough at all. Instead, she'd said something that made her entire body tremble: "Doesn't Qiuqiu want her Song Xiaore anymore?"

She'd lose her mind too, hugging her, clinging to her, depending on her omega, saying, "Qiuqiu wants Song Xiaore. Wants her. Always."

Yan Qingqiu's heart ached, tears welling in her eyes. In the end, she'd knocked over the kettle on the table, water splashing everywhere across the living room.

"Yan Qingqiu is Song Qingre's omega forever. Forever and always."

She'd said it over and over. Song Qingre biting through her gland was a clear sensation—she knew she was being marked. It didn't hurt; it felt good. She lifted her chin slightly, letting out a soft hum. "Song Xiaore, go easy… on me… all right?"

Even when being coquettish, she felt a hint of shyness, embarrassment wrapping around her. Her soul felt bound, trapped, while her body felt Song Qingre's pheromones every moment—the intricate flowers blooming ever more, omega pheromones flowing through her, merging with the blood and genes in her body. She belonged to her now.

Song Qingre was addicted to her, begging her for more.

It was ridiculous.

Her cheeks burned hot.

Song Qingre came back with the supplies, peeled her an orange, and applied medicine to her wound, apologizing with deep tenderness. Yan Qingqiu's ears grew hot. She truly didn't blame her—her heat really was long. She lifted the blanket to let Song Qingre rest properly, since she'd been taking care of her the whole time, which was rather pitiful.

· ·

After being admitted to the hospital, Yan Qingqiu's mind raced with anxious thoughts, worrying that her father would find out she'd disgraced the family name. She'd come up with countless explanations, but her father never came, and her best friend had no time to visit. Both sides were busy attacking the Fu family together, entangled with Fu Ye.

Yan Qingqiu thought she'd sue them to the end, make them suffer a quiet defeat, and never hold their heads up again. Sue them to death.

After two days of this, the Fu family couldn't take it anymore and came to negotiate with Song Qingre. They were desperate to suppress the news, hoping for an early settlement, hinting that continuing to push would be bad for everyone involved.

Song Qingre was talking at the door. Yan Qingqiu got out of bed and crept over, pressing her ear to the door. The Fu family's tone sounded respectful, but they were half-threatening, half-cajoling Song Qingre.

"We're indeed not the best people, but we're also big capital. An artist like you going toe-to-toe with us isn't a good look. Take the way out we're offering. Your art is strong, and we admire it, but public opinion flows wherever the wind blows. You've heard the saying: if the man is guilty, his works should be boycotted too."

Song Qingre didn't respond. The Fu family continued, "Also, how you and Yan Qingqiu ended up in the hospital—that doesn't need to be spread too far, right? After all, Yan Qingqiu still wants to be a model."

"Moreover, settle this quickly and we'll come to terms early. Otherwise, our CEO might get offended and find someone to damage your gland—not an impossibility."

Yan Qingqiu looked at her recording and savagely hit save. *The Fu family are idiots! Big silly eagles!*

Song Qingre came back after half an hour of negotiations.

Yan Qingqiu sat on the edge of the bed, her face stern. "How was it resolved?"

Song Qingre sat in the chair, blinking, her expression relaxed—not heavy at all. "We've basically come to an agreement. This matter will be put to rest after a press conference."

"Why?"

"Fu Ye's gland looks like it has to be removed. The Fu family is really desperate and planning to send him abroad for treatment." Song Qingre smiled. "This settlement isn't bad. Continuing to drag it out would just waste time. A lawsuit would take at least a year. The Fu family has a team of lawyers. Right now, Fu Ye is being forcibly sent abroad by the Fu family. If we push too hard, the police will keep coming to us with reports, and Fu Ye will keep watching you."

"What if they don't keep their promise? What if they're just tricking you into settling, but they don't actually send Fu Ye away?" Yan Qingqiu knew deep down that not fighting was the best option. The Fu family was going after Song Qingre, insisting she was the one who'd plotted and seriously injured Fu Ye. The Fu family had capital. If they wanted, they could smear Song Qingre online every day, slandering her endlessly. That would hurt her a lot. You couldn't just act on impulse. Song Qingre was, after all, an artist.

Song Qingre merely smiled. Settling was beneficial and harmless to her.

"Then what about the press conference? Are they apologizing to us?"

"Mutual apology. Settlement."

Yan Qingqiu felt uneasy. Why should it be mutual? She asked, "Is Fu Ye really going to have his gland removed?"

"More or less. I heard that several of Fu's illegitimate sons have been taking turns whispering in Fu Ye's ear that he's going to become a eunuch. That messed up his mental state, and he's been unconscious ever since—his body couldn't take the shock. He managed to wake up briefly yesterday, but his gland is thoroughly destroyed."

"Hahahaha," Yan Qingqiu held up a pinky finger to show Song Qingre. "Will he turn into a eunuch like this?"

"Maybe. I'll take you to see for yourself."

"Once his surgery is done, if I go and aggravate him, his family will blame me."

Yan Qingqiu felt a pang of regret. She picked up her phone. Online, everyone was mocking the Fu family—their reputation was ruined.

Song Qingre said, "Don't look at that just yet." But Yan Qingqiu's fingers were quick, already tapping into Weibo's trending page. A headline popped up: #SHOCKING! Woman and Unmarried Lady Do the Deed for Seven Days and Seven Nights, Gland Bitten and Ruined; Ex-Boyfriend Faints in Anger, Wakes Up Impotent#

Yan Qingqiu: "…"

Song Qingre said, "I told you not to look."

Yan Qingqiu was dumbfounded. *Why, to this day, does she still end up publicly humiliated?!*

"I can't—I'm done. Does the Fu family not want to live? Do they want everyone to die together? Why aren't they taking this trending topic down?" Yan Qingqiu asked, then tapped into the comments section and was even more dumbfounded.

【*Is Fu Ye the one whose gland was removed? Did he become a eunuch? Then who underwent secondary differentiation? Hahaha, this trending topic is hilarious. So flavorful.*】( )

【*Yan Qingqiu underwent secondary differentiation? From Alpha to omega? Damn, 666! I bet Fu Ye's hair is green with envy! Was his gland burned away?*】( )

【*Who bit Yan Qingqiu's gland? Song Qingre? They're fated mates after all. Damn, even the heavens ship it—neighbors who are fated mates, destined to be together all along.*】( )

【*Hahahaha, which genius leaked this? I'm laughing so hard I might puke.*】( )

【*Give me the detailed seven-day-seven-night story, or I won't believe anyone can really go seven days and seven nights! My email is: 【email protected】*】( )

"The Fu family probably thinks it's better if everyone drowns together. They've given up," Song Qingre said with a tsk. Fu Zhenguo was a sly old fox; sacrificing one Fu Ye for the company was nothing to him.

Yan Qingqiu quickly threw her phone aside. It felt scorching hot.

Her face kept flushing. It was maddening.

And this thing just wouldn't leave the trending page.

Song Qingre changed the subject. "The Fu family has changed leadership. Fu Ye's position is temporarily being handled by Fu Zhenguo's youngest son."

"Who's the youngest son? How come I've never heard of him? Doesn't Fu Ye's family only have him as a son?"

"Fu Zhenguo has several illegitimate sons. This one was abroad before, and after returning, he wasn't publicly acknowledged. To the outside, he was just introduced as Fu Zhenguo's relative. Now, it looks like they're going to formally recognize him." Song Qingre continued, "For now, he doesn't want to fight with us. He wants to settle this privately, meaning a reconciliation. In a couple of days, they'll hold a press conference, explain it all as a misunderstanding, and both sides will apologize to each other. Then it's done."

Yan Qingqiu, who always latched onto the crucial words, said with great displeasure, "Why mutual apologies? We're not apologizing."

Song Qingre said, "They know you were hospitalized too. If they write too much scandalous news, it won't be good for your reputation either."

Yan Qingqiu immediately thought of the news she'd just seen. She felt like Song Qingre was protecting her image. She huffed twice. "So annoying."

"Actually, I can be shameless about my own reputation."

"Don't be angry, don't be angry," Song Qingre reassured her.

The press conference was arranged quickly, mostly because the Fu family was in a rush—public opinion was highly unfavorable to them.

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow."

"Damn, they're in a hurry! No good intentions!" Yan Qingqiu cursed.

This whole affair had blown up fast. For seven days and seven nights, Yan Qingqiu had been having a great time, while the increasingly unhappy Fu family had lost all face. They had to suppress this mess.

They didn't even bother finding a new venue for the press conference—they used the same art center where the show had been held. Through a mix of carrots and sticks, they pressured Song Qingre into coming.

Even though Yan Qingqiu didn't want to go, she felt uneasy about it. Limping, unable to even turn her neck, she insisted on hobbling over to see for herself. If the Fu family tried to bully Song Qingre, she'd pull out that recording and make the Fu family furious.

Song Qingre gave her a cane, and she leaned on it, forcing herself along. While driving, Song Qingre cautioned, "Don't get too worked up when we get there."

"I know." Yan Qingqiu said it with her mouth, but her heart didn't agree. She was already scheming—if the Fu family pulled any tricks, she'd strike immediately.

When they reached the art center, Yan Qingqiu walked with the cane, swaying on her feet. Su Xingjie came to greet her, staring at her in shock, reaching out to support her. "Qiuqiu, what happened to you? What's wrong with your leg?"

"I twisted my ankle." Yan Qingqiu's legs had gotten messed up that day. It hadn't bothered her for the first few days, but later it ached like sore muscles from overexertion.

She had no idea whether Su Xingjie had seen the trending topic. If she had, it'd be mortifying in front of her best friend. She added a bit too defensively, "It's because my leg is hurt that the Fu family keeps slandering me."

The journalists had arrived early. On the left were the Fu family's people; on the right, ER's media. Both sides were recording.

The Fu family's lawyers and Song Qingre's lawyer were in discussion.

Song Qingre stood backstage, a smile in her eyes.

The Fu family looked at her, deeply uncomfortable.

It felt very much like watching the culprit return to the crime scene to admire their handiwork. They endured it, and then couldn't take it anymore. They turned and told their lawyer to say something harsh, reminding her to tone it down.

When the time came, both sides took their seats.

The journalists held their microphones ready, prepared to ask only questions favorable to their own side.

Yan Qingqiu had also grabbed a chair to sit on, afraid she might faint from sheer anger. Su Xingjie placed her fingers on the armrest of Yan Qingqiu's chair, signaling her not to get too angry—everything was arranged.

The Fu family's script had been drafted and redrafted: this whole thing was a misunderstanding. That day, Fu Ye merely had a cold, didn't realize it was his heat. He hadn't purposefully come to the art center. They even mentioned that Fu Ye and Song Qingre were classmates, hinting that Song Qingre had been stringing Fu Ye along, subtly shifting the blame.

Song Qingre came empty-handed. She had no prepared script. She listened quietly, a smile playing at her lips.

Everyone expected her to counterattack. The Fu family finished speaking, walked over to shake her hand, saying it was all a misunderstanding, let's forgive and forget.

Song Qingre didn't lash out. She rose politely and shook their hands.

Then came the moment for Song Qingre's response. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. Sheng Huajian leaned in to look—*holy shit, it's blank!*

Yan Qingqiu was equally dissatisfied. She should have written something for Song Qingre yesterday. She pulled out her phone and said, "Xing Xing, can you connect this to the big screen? Let everyone hear it too."

Su Xingjie moved to take her phone, but Song Qingre had already stood up. The Fu family's representative hadn't sat down yet. Song Qingre politely shook his hand. The Fu family man smiled slightly. "No harm, no foul, we—" His hand was squeezed with a little pain.

Song Qingre didn't let go. Lowering her head, she said with great remorse, "Indeed, this matter is related to me. Afterward, I reflected on it. As an artist, I genuinely shouldn't have—"

The cameras clicked and flashed, recording everything.

Yan Qingqiu was so angry her cheeks puffed out. Were they really going to bully an artist who couldn't speak well? Watching this was heartbreaking! The netizens had better feel the same heartbreak and join her in cursing the Fu family.

Song Qingre stood up straight, adjusting the microphone, making sure every media outlet and livestream captured her sincerity. In a clear voice, she said, "I am truly sorry. I should have been more careful at the time. I shouldn't have let your Fu Ye become a eunuch—I really didn't foresee that. And at the time, I shouldn't have just stood by watching. I should have rushed in to help. If possible, I'd like to offer some compensation. I'm willing to cover his medical expenses. Otherwise, I might spend the rest of my life feeling guilty. I'm truly sorry for causing your Fu family to have a… physiologically challenged eunuch."

She bowed, her etiquette impeccable, and apologized sincerely: "Please, accept my apology. I truly bear responsibility for this. I must make up for it somehow. About Fu Ye becoming a eunuch… I can send some supplements. Having caused your family such an ordeal, I haven't been able to sleep at night. It's all my fault. You can blame everything on me…"

All the media: "?"

Then they frantically aimed their cameras, *awesome!*

Song Qingre took a deep breath, struggling to hold back a laugh. She furrowed her brows to suppress it. "My fated mate and I are both very sorry. She's not present right now, so I'm expressing our apology on her behalf. I hope you don't mind."

Her eyes lit up at the mention of her fated mate—she was practically showing off. Then, with feigned nonchalance, she kept referring to Fu Ye as a eunuch…

The Fu family man yanked his hand away. *Damn it, he couldn't even shake her off.* Song Qingre stuck to him like glue, apologizing, while he shouted, "Let go!"

Song Qingre, with deep sorrow and full sincerity, said, "Please don't refuse my apology. It's all my fault. I am guilty. My sins are grave."