Chapter 66

"Come here." The voice in the dream pulled at her, faint yet clear—her ears felt muffled, as if stuffed with cotton.

Yan Qingqiu swayed as she walked deeper inside.

"What's your name?"

"Yan Qingqiu."

"And what else?"

"Hathawayr·Fallen Angel·Qiu'er."

"What's your nickname?"

"Qiuqiu, Qiu Bao."

"Impressive... you even know my and Qiuqiu's couple username. Who exactly are you?"

Yan Qingqiu didn't understand why, even though she was speaking so clearly, the other person kept asking her again and again. The voice landed in her ears, soft and gentle—so gentle that her own voice turned soft and numb. But her body hurt so much...

There was no light anywhere. It was dark, and she was dizzy, closing her eyes and opening them again several times. At times she seemed to enter some stifling, twisted space that was all dark red, her legs numb and weak, everything she grabbed floating and unstable.

"What's your name?"

Yan Qingqiu thought, why do you keep asking? But all she could do was get goosebumps. "Yan Qingqiu..."

"What do you want most—"

"To go home. I want to go home." Yan Qingqiu pressed her voice low. "Please... I just want to go home. I only stared at the pretty girls in the game a couple of times. Let me go back. I won't stay up all night gaming anymore."

"I won't do those shy, flirty interactions with pretty girls either. I just couldn't sleep at night. Wuwu, I was wrong. I'm sorry, boss, let me go!"

"I'll kowtow to you!"

Yan Qingqiu had no idea what state she was in. The other person stayed silent for a long time. Something cold pressed against her neck, ready to slice through her skin at any moment.

Her whole body was limp, wrapped in something, as if she'd floated into some fluid space. She couldn't find gravity, and it made her furious.

"Wuwuwu, let me go. I won't be a pervert anymore. Really... Don't judge me by my lechery—I'm actually very loyal. I've never even been in a relationship. Wuwuwu, don't kill me."

Then she was dragged out by her legs.

The top of her head was stroked, the touch gentle, as if soothing her tears.

Before she could savor that tenderness, a blast of explosive wind came howling at her, smashing straight into her back. She wanted to scream, the sound reaching her throat, when suddenly her knees went weak and she collapsed onto the bed, gasping for breath.

"Do you like butterflies?"

"Yes."

She felt a faint pain on her shoulder. Someone had bitten her there.

"It's okay now. Get a good night's sleep."

"Goodnight, see you tomorrow."

·

Because she recovered quickly, Yan Qingqiu was discharged from the hospital before long. Song Qingre handled the discharge paperwork and packed up their things. Yan Qingqiu sat in the car, rubbing her temples.

Sigh.

That dream had been far too vivid.

Had the System deliberately shown it to her?

Or had she remembered something?

Song Qingre loaded things into the trunk and slammed it shut.

Sheng Huajian's car was parked right next to them. Sheng Huajian waited for her to finish closing the trunk, then walked over and said, "Fu Ye was planning to go abroad under the pretense of seeking treatment overseas. He got to the airport today, and the moment he arrived, the Investigation Bureau detained him."

"Investigation Bureau?" Song Qingre asked. "Which one?"

"The Tri-Federation Investigation Bureau—the national one. Miss Ye filed a lawsuit against him, so this isn't some civil dispute like the ER case. The Fu family is involved in a lot of illegal businesses. The higher-ups were already investigating him. Now he's walked straight into the line of fire."

Song Qingre smiled faintly and asked, "So who's in charge of the Fu family now?"

"Fu Ye's father. Fu Ye's position is now held by his illegitimate younger son. Yesterday Fu Zhenguo even threw a banquet for the younger son, officially acknowledging him back into the family. Fu Ye's mother went to make a scene, but Fu Zhenguo told her straight—if she didn't want to stay married, she could get a divorce, and he'd give his illegitimate son the proper status."

The two of them stood outside talking. Yan Qingqiu rolled her window down a crack and searched on her phone for what the Tri-Federation Investigation Bureau was. The Tri-Federation Investigation Bureau, abbreviated as the ABO Tri-Federation Investigation Bureau, was the highest investigative body in this world. They handled intelligence and cracked down on crime. If they got their sights on you, you were basically done for.

She really hadn't seen that coming.

But it made sense. These domineering CEOs were all the same, weren't they? They loved challenging the law, always resorting to dangerous methods in the name of love.

Serves him right.

Hehe. Hope Fu Ye rots in prison.

As she was thinking that, Song Qingre opened the car door and got in. Song Qingre drove and said, "Dong Shu and the others are still packing up in the back. We'll head home first."

"Is Dad home?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

"Maybe at the office. Why don't you call and ask?"

Yan Qingqiu called, and the other line picked up quickly. Yan Fu answered, his voice gentle.

Yan Qingqiu said, "Dad, I'm feeling much better. I'm heading home now."

"Good."

"Be careful."

The two of them didn't say much else before hanging up.

Song Qingre drove while Yan Qingqiu clutched her phone in the back, sending messages. She told Su Xingjie she was feeling better and would stop by the company in a few days to see her.

Su Xingjie didn't reply. Yan Qingqiu casually browsed through a few group chats. The modeling department had a group where they were discussing company matters. Su Xingjie had fired five models, including Fu Sang. Fu Sang refused to leave and demanded severance pay from Su Xingjie. The other four models had packed up and left, but Fu Sang was dragging things out, insisting she'd take ER to court. Su Xingjie wasn't paying her any mind.

Yan Qingqiu even picked up some gossip from it. Fu Sang and Qiang Wei had initially been close—good friends, even. But then Fu Sang said Qiang Wei was two-faced, and the two had a falling out.

Since nobody could figure out who was right and who was wrong, and no one wanted to look stupid if things flipped later, they just wrote everyone off with a single stroke: everyone's the villain, just dogs biting dogs.

It left a bad taste in her mouth. Yan Qingqiu skimmed past it and put her phone away.

"Drive to ER. Let me check on how things are going there."

"Okay."

Yan Qingqiu sat in the back and looked up at the text floating above Song Qingre's head.

It was lethal.

The words above Song Qingre's head seemed to have no flip side. Even from behind, they faced her dead-on, as if staring straight at her.

Two days had already passed. Why couldn't she still get used to it?

By all rights, she should have adjusted by now.

Yan Qingqiu turned to look out the window. There was a scientific saying: it takes twenty-one days to form a habit.

Well, as long as she got used to the words over Song Qingre's head, she'd have nothing to fear.

Sometimes she couldn't figure herself out. Was she lovestruck, or did she just not know how to love? Every time something sudden happened, she had no idea how to react when facing Song Qingre. She was scared to death, and yet she still held onto the hopeful thought: She won't be too cruel to me. I'm special.

If someone said, "She doesn't like you. She doesn't love you," she'd find a thousand ways to defend her: She adores me. You just don't see it.

Yan Qingqiu used to give her feelings a rating of +1, +2 to express how her heart fluttered. Now she had no idea how to add it up anymore.

She couldn't accurately judge where her feelings had reached.

In the beginning, the faint stirring could still be carefully planned out, but she'd neglected to manage or restrain it, and now it had sunk deeper and deeper—so deep she couldn't tell just how much she might love someone.

This feeling burned through me, over and over.

Am I a stand-in?

If I am, then I won't be one.

Because your love is too intense. I might never be able to bear it in this lifetime.

Yan Qingqiu thought she might have a bit of humor in her, because even now she was wondering: when that day really came and she kowtowed to Song Qingre, begging her to let her go, would Song Qingre spare her life?

She hadn't done anything to deserve death. She'd just been a bit fierce with Song Qingre at first. But she'd been on Song Qingre's side from the very start, and she remained steadfast now.

But what if Miss Yan came back and had to share this body?

What if she had a split personality?

What if she had to die?

Sigh. That was a complicated problem.

As she thought, the car came to a stop. Yan Qingqiu swiped her card to enter the company, and she brought Song Qingre up with her. Ji Xiangsi spotted her and hurried over. "Qiu Jie, I'll go get Director Su for you."

"No need. I'll go see for myself," Yan Qingqiu said.

"Fu Sang is still in there, and things are getting pretty heated. She keeps insisting she's innocent, saying she wasn't the one who did it," Ji Xiangsi said.

Yan Qingqiu understood. Now that Su Xingjie was protecting her and her runway career was taking off, the blame had fallen on Qiang Wei.

"Also, the other models came by a few days ago, all saying it was Qiang Wei—that she was the one who convinced them to leave."

Su Xingjie hadn't come to meet her, and Yan Qingqiu sensed something was off. She must have been tied up with something. She went to Su Xingjie's office door and was just about to push it open when Song Qingre grabbed her arm. A heated argument was going on inside, sharp and intense. The door was shut, but if you leaned in close, you could hear what they were saying.

Su Xingjie's voice came through: "Aren't you overstepping? Whether she likes me or not is her own business. What does it have to do with you? She can say it or not—that's up to her. She's never interfered with my life, so who are you to pass judgment? Just mind your own business and keep your hands out of other people's bowls. If you want a lawsuit, I'll play along to the end."

"Why are you so stubborn? I've told you a hundred times—her desire for you isn't ordinary. She likes you. She'll drive away everyone around you."

"Don't forget. Right now, you're the one trying to get rid of her. From the very start, you were the one who wanted out. You're the one who's been kicking up a fuss. If you really want to help me, pack your things and leave. Don't demand a lawsuit on your way out the door." Su Xingjie's voice was cold. "You've already annoyed me. Who do you think you are, telling me what to do? Weigh yourself first, and get the hell out sooner rather than later."

"Is that what you think of me? You weren't like this before."

"I've always been like this. Sorry, but we're business partners, not friends. You don't get to lecture me." Su Xingjie paused, then spoke with deliberate clarity, word by word: "Do you have a crush on me?"

Fu Sang's reaction was dramatic, her tone incredulous. "What nonsense are you talking about? I just don't want to take the blame. I don't want to be misunderstood. If you'd been misunderstood even once, you'd know why I'm so insistent."

"No one's misunderstanding you, are they?" Su Xingjie still didn't believe her.

"By driving me out, aren't you telling the whole company that I was the one who did it?"

Yan Qingqiu, listening outside, wanted to barge in and say something, but Song Qingre held her back. Song Qingre signaled for her not to rush. Wait a little longer.

Yan Qingqiu had no choice but to stand and keep listening, itching to go in and curse someone out on behalf of her best friend.

Su Xingjie took a deep breath. "If you keep making a scene, I'm calling security."

Fu Sang let out an unbearable shriek. "How many times do I have to say it? It really wasn't me! Why won't you believe me? I'm genuinely doing this for your own good!"

"You don't even like me. We're just coworkers. Why would you do anything for my sake? I understand when Qiang Wei is good to me—I get that she likes me. But you? Fu Sang, with all your drama, big or small—I've cleaned up after you more times than I can count. Are you some kind of saint? Are you?" Su Xingjie seemed to throw something, her voice turning harsh. "It would be easy for me to make you disappear from this circle entirely. Don't push your luck."

Fu Sang knew exactly what her problem was. It was that line she'd said back then—"Fu Ye, don't you want Yan Qingqiu? Get moving"—that had sealed her fate. Her leaving had nothing to do with Qiang Wei. Su Xingjie had tolerated her this long out of pure goodwill, all because of the money she'd helped earn over the years. With anyone else, security would have already been tossing her things out the door, never mind saving face.

After the words inside died down, Song Qingre told Yan Qingqiu to step back and moved to stand in front. Yan Qingqiu frowned at first, glanced up at the words above Song Qingre's head, then thought better of it and backed all the way to the hallway, sneaking peeks at the door from a distance.

Fu Sang opened the door and clearly jumped at the sight of someone outside. The moment she saw Song Qingre, she took a step back, her back pressing against the door. Her eyes went red, and she muttered, "What?"

Song Qingre didn't answer. Fu Sang didn't push for a response either. She brushed past her and kept walking. After a moment, she looked back—and nearly jumped out of her skin at Yan Qingqiu. Fu Sang shrieked, raising her hand to strike, but Yan Qingqiu shoved her back. Yan Qingqiu didn't argue with her. Instead, she waved Song Qingre over, motioning for her to come here.

Fu Sang didn't linger to fight with them, either. She just headed back inside.

Song Qingre walked over and asked Yan Qingqiu, "What's wrong? Aren't you going in to see Su Xingjie?"

"No," Yan Qingqiu said. "Today's already messy enough, and Xingjie has an image to maintain. If we go in now, she'll end up working late again."

Song Qingre had no idea why she'd even come here, or what the point of it was. The two of them didn't step into Su Xingjie's office. Yan Qingqiu swung by her own office and told Ji Xiangsi not to mention to Su Xingjie that she'd visited. Ji Xiangsi nodded and said okay. Yan Qingqiu grabbed a random book from inside, then followed Song Qingre home. In the car, she called Su Xingjie and asked her to come over for dinner that night.

Su Xingjie's voice came through the phone, warm, with no trace of anger—nothing to suggest she'd just been in a fight. "I was planning to come see you later anyway. See you tonight."

"Great. I'll have the chef make something good. I'll get plenty of your favorites," Yan Qingqiu said, hanging up. She sounded puzzled. "Xing Xing's actually in a pretty good mood. I had a whole bunch of things ready to say to comfort her."

"She probably doesn't want the people around her to worry."

"That makes sense. Xing Xing must have been through a lot to develop that habit." Yan Qingqiu sighed. A person living in this world with no one to rely on, no family to support them—even with both feet on the ground, it would feel unreal, hollow. Su Xingjie had never been loved as a child. Her mother remarried, and she was left with no home at all.

As she thought this, she heard Song Qingre say, "You should feel sorry for me too."

The wind outside the window was noisy, blowing into her ears—a little cold, a little painful.

After Miss Yan left, Song Qingre had no home left either.

·

The butler opened the door when they arrived. They'd come back first, but they were the last to actually reach home.

The things they'd brought were handed to the maids to put away. Last time, they'd spent seven days and seven nights at the hotel, then another eight days in the hospital. All told, it had been nearly half a month since they'd been home.

Yan Qingqiu ran straight upstairs, pushed open the door, her head spinning, her ears still catching fragments of the voice from her dream.

"Be good. Sleep."

"Let me leave a mark on you."

She pushed open the window. Unlike before—last time she'd woken up to see the butler standing in the yard in his tailcoat, smiling at her—now Song Qingre was standing in the yard alongside the butler.

Yan Qingqiu tilted her head slightly, glancing toward the neighboring courtyard.

【Host.】 The System called her.

Startled, she snapped back, 【What? Are you crazy? You scared me.】

The System said, 【I forgot to remind you—Song Qingre has been keeping an eye on you. You can check the villa for surveillance.】

Yan Qingqiu let out an "oh," pulled her gaze away, and shut the window. 【I thought you didn't know what she was up to? How do you know she's watching me?】

The System said, 【If she wants to find out whether you're the person she's looking for, she has to monitor you.】

Yan Qingqiu understood. The System was monitoring her too; same logic. 【Where's the bug?】

The System said, 【Look for it yourself.】

Yan Qingqiu took a deep breath. She tried the methods the internet recommended, holding up her phone to check for little red dots, but she searched for a long time and found nothing. "There's nothing here."

The System paused for a few seconds, then said, 【Look again. It has to be there somewhere. Try the bathroom.】

Yan Qingqiu's cheeks flushed slightly. No way. Something in the bathroom? That would be... a little embarrassing. I do sometimes doll myself up and admire myself in there.

"I don't think she's that twisted."

【She could kill a Host without blinking, and you still don't think she's that twisted? You're an interesting fool—scared of death, yet blindly trusting the one who could kill you.】

【Thanks. I just love her irrationally.】

Yan Qingqiu didn't want to go into the bathroom, but the System's nagging annoyed her, so she forced herself to check. Her fingers ached from gripping her phone, and she kept wanting to toss it aside. She swept the place once—still nothing.

Yan Qingqiu said, "I'm telling you, there's no surveillance. You're all too paranoid. If she were watching me every day, she'd never get any work done. Does she even have the time?"

If she watched me every day, wouldn't I be like an animal? A creature under study.

"Besides scaring me, can you ever give me anything reliable? I've found nothing at all."

The System was baffled too. That couldn't be right. It had to be there.

【Look one more time, carefully.】

She did as it said, going back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom, and still found nothing.

【You've worn me out. Is there anything or not?】 Yan Qingqiu asked impatiently.

The System repeated that it was impossible a few times. Yan Qingqiu was exhausted from searching and flopped onto the bed. 【See, I said so—you guys don't even verify things before making me search. Lucky I did it on the sly. If I'd done it in front of her, I'd be dead by now. Do you care at all about your Host's life?】

The System refused to give up, stubbornly insisting, 【Go look in the yard. Maybe there's something outside.】

Yan Qingqiu said, 【There's a camera my dad installed in the living room, and the yard has anti-theft surveillance too. Tell me, how am I supposed to search through all that? How do I tell them apart? My dad and my uncle would think I've lost my mind, or that they're in danger. Who's going to take responsibility for that? You people really know how to make things difficult.】

Yan Qingqiu decided to ignore the System. She was dead tired from running around looking for things.

She yawned, sprawled onto the bed, and no matter how the System called her, she refused to get up.

【Are you scared, or do you just not want to look? I've never had a Host as lazy as you.】

Yan Qingqiu said, 【Both. To stay alive, I have to know as little as possible. In dramas, it's always the nosy ones who die first.】

The System couldn't get her up. It was about to resort to some torment when it heard someone downstairs calling her—Song Qingre's voice.

Yan Qingqiu snorted, not answering Song Qingre, and instead asked, 【Can't you get rid of that thing above her head?】

The System said, 【No. That's your reward—so you can see her character profile at all times and remind yourself not to get too attached.】

Yan Qingqiu wanted to say, 【You little wretch, you even set up an anti-addiction mode.】

The System: 【Say that again, I dare you. Why's your mouth so filthy? No manners!】

Yan Qingqiu: 【So what if I curse you? Hitting is caring, scolding is love. To love deeply, you use your feet!】

【You just gave her a little red text warning. Do you have any evidence to back it up? You can't go around saying she kills people without proof. Where's your evidence?】

The System said, 【Go check her basement and you'll see.】

Yan Qingqiu wasn't stupid. She wasn't going down there. In horror movies, the basement is where the cannon fodder goes in and dies instantly. No way.

The System ignored her. She'd rather ignore it too, or else she'd be told she was going to be killed by Song Qingre.

Yan Qingqiu fell asleep sprawled on the bed, and she had that same dream again—a twisted place, floating without gravity.

The dream was a mess. She was back at the orphanage, sitting by the flower bed. A few adults were talking: "She still can't settle in here?"

"Mm. One moment she's crying to go back, the next she's calling for her dad, or saying she's waiting for someone—'Jie' something or other."

"Go talk to her. Tell her no one's coming to pick her up. Have her settle in as soon as possible. If a family comes looking to adopt, put her file out first and see if we can help her forget her dad and sister sooner."

"She'll forget in time."

"Qiuqiu, the children who come here are just like you—kids without homes. No daddy, no sister. From now on, we're a family."

Her lips moved, fingers twisting a leaf in her hand. "Then my wife will come to pick me up."

"What are you talking about? How could you have a wife?"

"You're only three. Be good now."

Yan Qingqiu struggled. She wanted to say she wasn't three—she was... ten... ten—

But her mouth moved on its own. "She, she'll be back from kindergarten soon. She said she'd bring me watermelon candy. I can't go off with strangers. I have to wait for her. Don't mind me."

She couldn't make out the faces in front of her. They were blurry.

She looked up and saw the leaves falling to the ground. The autumn wind came, and quickly the leaves turned into a sky full of snow. A rabbit burst out of the snow, running, its big ears bouncing and twitching.

They were paper-folded rabbits, shaking their heads at her.

The dream was like marbles sealed in a box, all spilling out at once. She tried to grab them but couldn't catch a single one. She threw herself at the rabbit and pinned it down, but it slipped out of her arms and turned into a butterfly.

Dizzy and disoriented, Yan Qingqiu returned to that space. She only remembered she wanted to go home. When someone asked her a question, she answered one by one. She just wanted to go home.

She remembered another rainy night. It rained and rained, and she kept talking to Song Qingre. Song Qingre couldn't understand a word she said. Yan Qingqiu held Song Qingre's hand and repeated over and over, "Don't forget me..."

"It hurts."

"My head hurts..."

The person in the dream had a headache; the person lying in bed had one too.

Yan Qingqiu twisted and squirmed. She felt like something was trying to split her skull open. She grabbed at her hair, wanting to claw her head open.

It was unbearable.

The door burst open with a bang, and that searing pain vanished in an instant.

"Mmm..." Yan Qingqiu let out a muffled groan, like she was pinned down by a ghost. She tried to move but her body wouldn't obey. "Head hurts. It's awful."

Only when someone took her hand did Yan Qingqiu slowly open her eyes. This time it was better. Tears glistened in her eyes, and everything she saw wouldn't come into focus—it was all a jumbled mess.

"A nightmare?" Song Qingre's familiar voice sounded at her ear. She turned her head and saw Song Qingre sitting beside her. She gave a soft "mm." This time her mind wasn't a blank. The dream surfaced in fragmented, bizarre pieces. "A messy dream. No logic to it at all."

"What dream?"

"I dreamed I was at an orphanage."

Song Qingre's fingers massaged her temples, saying she should cover herself with a blanket when sleeping or she'd catch cold. She tucked the blanket around Yan Qingqiu, warming her up.

"Last time you mentioned you'd gone somewhere—a place with no father and no me," Song Qingre said. "So it was an orphanage?"

Song Qingre was so smart. She'd actually figured out that Yan Qingqiu had been to an orphanage. The places Song Qingre touched were icy cold, and her body instinctively recoiled, but the blanket pressed over her was wonderfully warm. Song Qingre said, "Let me take your temperature."

"Mm."

Song Qingre went straight to the desk, pulled open the bottom drawer, and took out a box. She looked at it—the thermometer had barely any charge left. She took a reading; no fever. She plugged it in to charge.

This was the thermometer Song Qingre had given her last time. She'd only used it once, then put it back in its box. That time, she'd also had a nightmare and woken up terrified, so she'd kept it in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. But she'd still been scared at night, so she moved it to the lowest drawer of the desk.

Song Qingre took another reading. "What else did you dream about?"

"Rabbits."

Song Qingre said, "When Qiuqiu was little, she was the best at folding rabbits."

Yan Qingqiu stared at her in shock. How did she know they were folded paper rabbits?

"Qiuqiu's rabbits were one of a kind."

"It was raining too."

"Did the rabbit get wet?"

"No. I dreamed I was crying, saying... ow." Her head throbbed. The game's mechanics were constraining her again.

Song Qingre said, "One rainy day, Qiuqiu said a lot to me, and I couldn't hear a single word. Just like now—you start to speak, then your head hurts. Back then I didn't understand anything. Now I'm so afraid of losing you."

Yan Qingqiu leaned against her, listening to her heartbeat.

Song Qingre held her, arms circling her, stroking the back of her head. "Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid. From now on, tell me all your dreams. Don't be scared. These are all things that happened before. Because Qiuqiu only remembers fragments, they become broken in dreams."

Song Qingre's comfort was different from Yan Fu's. Yan Fu would earnestly tell her it was all fake...

The orphanage was fake.

So was Song Qingre hinting that the dream was real?

Ow. It hurt.

Yan Qingqiu squeezed her eyes shut.

·

Yan Qingqiu changed her clothes and came downstairs.

Su Xingjie had already arrived and brought her a gift. Su Xingjie sat on the sofa smiling at her, and Yan Qingqiu felt a little embarrassed. "You didn't have to bring a gift."

Su Xingjie looked shocked. "Don't you know what today is?"

"No. What is it?" Yan Qingqiu's first thought was that they'd found out she'd secretly gotten married.

Song Qingre said, "Silly. Today's your lunar birthday. November twenty-second."

Yan Qingqiu was stunned. She'd celebrated a birthday here before, and everyone had given her expensive gifts. She hadn't expected to get another birthday.

Just then, the others brought over gift boxes and set them on the table.

Yan Qingqiu was surprised and smiled. "Thank you, everyone."

The butler wheeled out a cake, and Yan Qingqiu clutched the gift box he'd given her, softly saying once more, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

Yan Fu had prepared a gift too. Yan Qingqiu hugged them all, and when she couldn't carry any more, she set them on the sofa.

Yan Fu said, "Go get a bottle of wine. Let's have a drink today?"

"But I don't really drink. I'm allergic to alcohol," Yan Qingqiu said awkwardly. She didn't want to dampen everyone's spirits.

"You'll have juice," Song Qingre said. "After all, it's your twenty-fifth birthday."

Yan Qingqiu agreed with an "okay," and stood up. "Dad, give me the keys to your wine cellar."

Yan Fu was about to go fetch them when Song Qingre said, "Let me get it from my place. Remember that shipment of things from overseas last time? A batch of wine just arrived—my father brewed it personally back in the day. Uncle, how about I go grab some for you to try?"

"Yes, that's good." Yan Fu nodded. "Your father was always big on overseas trade. He owned several wineries back then and kept a batch of wine. The price has skyrocketed since. Let's bring some out to taste. Pity Qiuqiu can't have any—she doesn't have the luck for it."

Yan Qingqiu didn't feel too regretful. She never drank anyway. She got up and followed Song Qingre. "Where are we getting it?"

Song Qingre said, "My place. Let's go."

Song Qingre walked ahead, and Yan Qingqiu followed her outside, shivering. The wind was biting cold, and she had a nagging feeling something bad was coming.

She thought, if the System was just bluffing, if Song Qingre never meant to kill her and was really into her as she was now—then being this afraid of her was, well...

She edged closer. Song Qingre glanced at her. What's wrong?

Yan Qingqiu hugged her arms. "It's really cold."

"Then come closer to me."

Yan Qingqiu sidled up to her, pressing close. Song Qingre unlocked the door with a key, and Yan Qingqiu lit the way with her phone's flashlight. The gate swung open. Song Qingre pressed a button on the wall, and the whole villa powered on. The moon and star-shaped lights in the yard all came on at once, turning the dark, forbidding mansion into a beautiful starry castle.

So beautiful.

"Still scared?" Song Qingre asked.

"Not anymore." Yan Qingqiu bit her lip. Song Qingre led her inside. The musty smell was gone from the house, but she didn't say anything—afraid Song Qingre might move back here. Song Qingre took her upstairs, saying she needed to get the wine cabinet key.

The house was big, and going up and down the stairs made Yan Qingqiu a little dizzy.

Finally they reached the wine cellar. Song Qingre opened the door.

They stepped inside, and Yan Qingqiu was stunned.

This wasn't a wine cellar at all—it was full of rare treasures.

Yan Qingqiu's eyes landed immediately on the paintings on the wall.

The room's lighting was dim, like a museum exhibition hall. Paintings lined the walls. Yan Qingqiu couldn't tell if they counted as masterpieces, but she spotted the painting she'd casually drawn herself, and asked, "Didn't you sell my painting?"

"Mm." Song Qingre said, "I made a copy of your painting and hung it in my office. How could I bear to sell yours?"

"...Oh, so the painting Miss Ye bought..."

"Was my copy."

Yan Qingqiu felt a pang of guilt. So Ye Sichun had bought a forgery. But Ye Sichun hadn't lost out—she'd bought a copy by a great artist like Song Qingre!

There was another painting covered with a light-blocking cloth. She walked over and lifted a corner to peek. Song Qingre didn't stop her. She looked once, her eyes widening, then covered it back up. It was her—looking fairly young—naked, lying beside a mirror, propping her head on her hand, calmly posing for the artist. In the mirror, her back, her waist, her hips.

"You asked me to paint this for your coming-of-age ceremony."

"I was the first person to paint you nude—the one who made you feel you were vulgar?"

"Mm. Qiuqiu is sacred and untouchable."

Yan Qingqiu glanced again. This was the real Miss Yan, and yet she looked no different from her—the same face, the same expression. Both were her after adulthood, both full of boundless desire for the painter.

She covered the painting back up.

She went to look at other things. Other display cases held butterfly specimens, a pearl bracelet, and a candied hawthorn stick. Why would she keep a tanghulu? She wondered.

Before she could finish the thought, she spotted a huge pearl, purplish-black.

"That's one my father obtained from an overseas voyage. He gave it to my mother."

"So pretty." Yan Qingqiu looked at the other ceramics. "Antiques!"

She looked around and didn't see a single window. The secrecy was top-notch. Leave it to the wealthy. Song Qingre picked up a bottle of wine and said, "This is a vintage from the winery's best year, the year my father left. Market price is three hundred forty thousand per bottle. It only goes up."

Yan Qingqiu stared at her, stunned. "How many bottles do you have?"

"Not many."

"Then drinking it now is such a waste. Forget it, keep it to appreciate in value. Don't be dumb."

"It's fine. I have about twenty..." Twenty-thousand bottles.

"Even twenty bottles disappear fast." Yan Qingqiu did the math. How much was that? Over six million?

"Sixty-eight billion."

"Cough cough. That rich? Wait, you can't do math—it's six million eight hundred thousand." Yan Qingqiu stared at her in disbelief. "I thought you were poor? You said all your family assets were seized. My dad told me. And you still have all these antiques."

"Mm, I am poor. I only kept three wineries."

"Your dad... really knew how to save money for you." Yan Qingqiu thought of the wedding fund and shook her head. "Maybe we shouldn't drink it. One bottle costs over three hundred thousand. It hurts."

"It's fine. The wine is the least valuable thing here."

"Don't be silly. Château Lafite from '82 is worth a fortune. I know this stuff. Keep it. It'll only appreciate." She looked at Song Qingre like she was a rich man's naive child—the kind whose parents had died and didn't know how to manage money.

Yan Qingqiu tried to talk her out of it several times, but Song Qingre still held the bottle. Yan Qingqiu took the bottle from her, planning to slip it back onto the shelf. "Is this your family's treasure vault? So you didn't come home before—and you just left it open like this? Weren't you afraid of burglars? Or did you bring all this back from overseas?"

"It's not a treasure vault. It's my basement."

"Basement, huh... I was saying..." Yan Qingqiu's legs went weak. "The basement."

"Mm. What's wrong?" Song Qingre steadied her. Yan Qingqiu stared at her. That terrifying basement? Wasn't there supposed to be a death down there...?

"Nothing, nothing."

"Why are you so afraid of my... basement?"

"I'm not scared. It's not scary at all. I was just thinking—shouldn't the basement have enough ventilation? What if we suffocate? Maybe we should leave soon."

Song Qingre helped her stand steady. Yan Qingqiu's heart pounded. Song Qingre said softly, with a smile, "You mean the cellar, right?"

"Yes, yes, yes." Yan Qingqiu clutched the wine bottle. Song Qingre supported her and said, "If you don't want to look anymore, head up first."

Yan Qingqiu nodded. She turned her head and spotted the candied hawthorn again, remembering when it was from—that time she'd rolled over the models, she'd bought it for Song Qingre, and Song Qingre never ate it. She'd turned it into a specimen?

Actually, leaving aside where this place was, just appreciating it wasn't scary at all. It was an ordinary hidden treasure room. It was the System's nagging that had her scared. She took a deep breath.

Song Qingre picked up a remote control. "You go up first. I'll set the code."

"Okay. I won't look."

Yan Qingqiu hurried out with the wine bottle cradled in her arms. The wine sloshed with her steps, and she sloshed right along with it.

She came up and stood alone in the living room. She found it a little creepy—the yard was so big. She'd have been better off staying in the basement with Song Qingre.

Yan Qingqiu glanced back and took a step backward.

One floor below, Song Qingre stood by the door hidden behind the wall. She didn't bother changing the password. Why would a place like this use an electronic code?

The hidden door slid open behind her, and the canvases that hadn't had time to be moved away were piled inside, densely packed—every single one neatly arranged.

They were stuffed in so full it felt like the air might run out.

Over nine thousand paintings. All the evidence of her longing for Qiuqiu, proof of every coming and going, every disappearance.

Nine thousand memories stored in her brain would be chaos. They had to be coded, clearly recorded. She couldn't afford memory errors. She couldn't afford to forget the person from the very beginning. She still had to find her.

To be precise—nine thousand one hundred twenty-four times.

Turn each scene, each vision into a painting. To put it more artistically:

It was: 9,124 Autumn Burials.

Artists really were a little twisted.