Chapter 67

Yan Qingqiu was freezing outside, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. Her breath came out in white puffs that hung in the air before fading. She rubbed her arms. "Why isn't Song Qingre out yet?"

"I'm out." Song Qingre came up in the elevator.

She stepped out, and Yan Qingqiu instinctively glanced at the ground, checking for a shadow.

As soon as Song Qingre was close, Yan Qingqiu leaned in, hooking her arm and pressing close. "What took you so long down there?"

"Were you spying?" Song Qingre asked.

"No, I was scared." Yan Qingqiu didn't dare go down alone.

Song Qingre let out a soft laugh, tilting her head to look at her. "The way you're acting, anyone would think I keep a monster in the basement."

Yan Qingqiu sniffled, hugging her arm tighter. "So cold. Aren't you cold?"

"No."

"Let's go." Song Qingre smiled gently, sliding her hand with the keys into her pocket.

They walked out together. At the door, Song Qingre closed the main gate with a dull thud. Yan Qingqiu noticed she hadn't turned off the lights. "Why aren't you cutting the power?"

"Aren't you scared? I'll leave them on." Song Qingre said.

"That's wasteful. We should save electricity. And the bill isn't cheap. Why add that expense? Let's save."

Song Qingre said, "Qiuqiu is very frugal, just like my housekeeper..."

"Whose housekeeper am I?" Yan Qingqiu urged her to turn off the lights.

Song Qingre finished, "...my housekeeper-wife, the lady of the villa."

The cold wind stung Yan Qingqiu's ears, the tips turning red. She wanted to argue, but Song Qingre wasn't wrong—they were married now, certificates in hand.

Yan Qingqiu told her to turn off the lights. "I'm not scared anymore. With so many people at home, what's there to fear? I was only scared because your place was empty, which is normal. Hurry up and turn them off."

Song Qingre opened the door again, switched off the villa's power, and all the lights went dark.

"Let's go, let's go." Yan Qingqiu pulled her along, rattling off all the downsides of living alone, hinting she should come stay with her.

Song Qingre listened attentively, nodding seriously. "I'll listen to you."

Yan Qingqiu thought: Did she take me to the basement on purpose?

Once inside her own villa, Yan Qingqiu ran in with the bottle of wine.

Song Qingre thought: The thing that scares her is probably this... Scared? Yes, she was scared—shivering at first, but then...

She closed her eyes, and longing surged up, overwhelming everything else.

Yan Qingqiu ran in with the wine, changing her shoes, stomping her heels, slipping her feet into cotton slippers.

"Song Qingre, hurry up."

Song Qingre hummed in acknowledgment.

Inside, Yan Fu asked, "Why were you two gone so long?"

Yan Qingqiu had meant to say they went to the basement, but thinking of the jewelry down there, she said instead, "She forgot where she put it and took a while looking."

In winter, they gathered around a hotpot.

The pot was already boiling, meat simmering.

Yan Fu loved wine, staring at the bottle for a long time. Seeing she hadn't brought it over, he said, "Qiuqiu, bring it here."

Yan Qingqiu clicked her tongue, reluctant. "Dad, do you know how much this costs? It's really expensive."

"This one's gone up to 400,000 this year. Very little of it circulates on the market." Yan Fu's eyes gleamed. He rarely posted on social media, but today he felt like showing off. "A lot of people want to buy it, but it's hard to find. Even the bottle alone is worth seven or eight thousand."

Yan Qingqiu thought: Yeah, so why are you drinking it at that price?

"Don't throw away the bottle later," she said.

"Of course not. It's numbered. I plan to collect it."

Song Qingre took her seat, pressing her lips together to hide a smile.

The butler brought the corkscrew, opened the red wine, and poured it into a decanter.

Yan Qingqiu didn't drink, but the rich aroma was impossible to mask. As soon as the cork was pulled, the fragrance spread. Yan Qingqiu thought of the price, and then of everyone else drinking while she couldn't—what a waste.

"Can I have a sip? Just one sip." Yan Qingqiu held up her glass, playing cute. "Please, kind sirs and ladies, spare me a mouthful."

Song Qingre laughed out loud, and Yan Qingqiu thought she was mocking her. "What?"

Seeing everyone drink made her mouth water, and not being able to have any made her throat itch.

"Pour a little for her to taste?" Yan Fu couldn't stand her greedy look.

"Better not. What if she gets an allergic reaction and breaks out in hives?" Song Qingre tried to stop it.

"One sip won't hurt." Yan Qingqiu grabbed a small glass, and Yan Fu and the butler, doting on her, poured her some.

Everyone clinked glasses, and she did too. Then she stood up to make a speech. "Thank you all for coming to my birthday party. I, Yan Qingqiu, am truly lucky to have you as family and friends. In a way, thank the heavens. Love you all."

She even made a heart shape with her hands for each of them.

Back in the orphanage, she'd never had a birthday celebration. There were too many kids, and the caretakers were busy. Sometimes they'd remember and celebrate a few together, but if they forgot, they forgot. There were no gifts either.

Children came and went, and everyone was used to hearing, "Wait until you're eighteen, then celebrate for yourself."

In the end, they all celebrated alone once they grew up.

"Happy birthday," everyone said.

Yan Qingqiu looked at Su Xingjie, who seemed reserved, and said, "Xing Xing, you drink too. Don't stand on ceremony. Make yourself at home."

When drinking, Yan Qingqiu took a sip. It smelled fragrant, but the moment she tasted it, her brows furrowed.

Despite the rich fruit aroma, the alcohol taste was still strong. She swallowed slowly.

She couldn't appreciate wine, couldn't tell how good it was.

"Qiu Bao, that sip cost a fortune." Su Xingjie said with a smile.

Yan Qingqiu frowned, and Song Qingre said, "Go spit it out."

Yan Qingqiu wanted to swallow it, but afraid she'd feel sick later, she went to spit it out. When she came back, the butler had poured her grape juice. Yan Qingqiu took a sip with an embarrassed smile.

Warmth spread, and everyone ate comfortably.

Song Qingre sat right across from Yan Qingqiu, who could still see the words above her head. The closest person to Song Qingre was Yan Fu. He couldn't see the words, pouring wine for Song Qingre and talking about old times.

Yan Fu lamented that if Song Qingre's father were still alive, the winery they'd started would surely have become world-famous.

"The winery's sitting empty now, right?"

"Not exactly. I planted some grapes casually."

"Those relatives of yours are worthless. They snatched your family's company and it collapsed within two years. Your father's mighty empire—what a pity. At least they didn't leave you with debt."

"Sir, today is the young lady's birthday. Let's not talk about this." The butler reminded him.

Yan Fu stopped, but the atmosphere didn't dip.

Maybe it was the mood, being with everyone, but the words above Song Qingre's head didn't seem so terrifying anymore.

Yan Qingqiu looked at Song Qingre, who smiled softly. Outside, the winter snow was still drifting, the weather growing colder.

They raised their glasses to drink. Yan Qingqiu could only have juice. The glasses clinked crisply, the juice tilting slightly, nearly spilling onto her fingers.

"It's snowing," Su Xingjie said.

The group followed her gaze outside.

Under the streetlight beyond the glass window, snowflakes swirled, spinning as they landed on the ground.

"Wow," Yan Qingqiu marveled. "Beautiful."

The weather forecast hadn't mentioned it. It came so suddenly.

"Even the weather is giving the young lady a gift, sending a snowfall to celebrate."

Su Xingjie drank, eyes wide in surprise—whether marveling at the snow or the wine's richness, she took a sip, cheeks flushing slightly.

"Today's atmosphere is wonderful."

The snow blew every which way, yet they watched as if it were a brilliantly choreographed dance, savoring it endlessly.

"Mm."

After dinner, everyone stood at the door watching the snow.

The butler reminisced. Back in middle school, the yard had been so lively. Yan Qingqiu would invite her good friend Su Xingjie over, and the three children would set off firecrackers and play with fireworks together.

When they played, they'd skip meals. He'd have to call them many times, and the three kids would eat with their bowls while watching.

Back then, Su Xingjie was shy and nervous, and it was Song Qingre who led them both.

At night, Su Xingjie would stay over, and their young lady would drag Song Qingre, insisting she stay the night.

They used to be so close, the three of them. Later, their relationship fell apart. The butler often sighed, wishing they could stay in those years forever, that no one ever had to grow up.

Yan Qingqiu watched for a while, then stopped. Everyone was reminiscing, but her mind was blank.

"So cold. I'm heading upstairs." Yan Qingqiu returned to the living room, picked up the gift boxes, and called Song Qingre on her way up.

Song Qingre helped her carry one.

Yan Qingqiu couldn't help it—she opened a gift downstairs.

The butler had given her a book. Yan Qingqiu opened the first page, drawn in by the text: "On the Spring Blossoms, Autumn Moons, and Longing Between My Young Lady and Miss Song."

"..."

It read like unofficial history about her and Song Qingre.

How improper.

Yan Qingqiu glanced at it and closed the cover.

The butler passed by and reminded her, "I added a few extra bonus chapters."

Yan Qingqiu was about to speak, but the butler spoke first: No angst.

No angst—that was great.

"Thank you, Uncle Dong. You understand me best! Love you!"

Yan Qingqiu was genuinely pleased with this gift.

All the gifts were brought to the bedroom. Yan Qingqiu turned on the light to open them, but stopped when she saw Song Qingre come in.

Song Qingre leaned against the doorframe, watching her curiously.

"Did you bring your household register?"

Song Qingre said, "While you were sleeping today, I went to pick up your new ID and household page. Take a look, and I'll return it to Uncle tomorrow."

Yan Qingqiu sat on the bed, humming in acknowledgment, and asked her to bring over her household register. Song Qingre didn't know what she was doing but still went to her bag and handed it to her.

Yan Qingqiu tugged the blanket over her legs. She pulled out Song Qingre's household page and tucked it into her own register.

"Hm?" Song Qingre was puzzled.

"My household register is pretty thin too—just me and my dad. Adding you makes three. A family of three isn't bad," Yan Qingqiu said softly.

Song Qingre's register was empty, so Yan Qingqiu said, "You keep this one. Next time, if my book wears out, we'll use yours."

"Mm, whatever works." Song Qingre lowered her head, her gaze fixed on the register, impossible to tell if she was moved or thinking about something.

Or perhaps, grieving.

"Today... was quite warm," Yan Qingqiu hinted, telling her not to be sad.

Song Qingre withdrew her gaze, the corners of her lips curving up slightly. "Yes, it was."

Just as she was about to sit down, a knock came at the door. Yan Fu called from outside, "Are you two asleep? If not, come down for cards. It's so early, can you really sleep?"

Yan Qingqiu tucked the register under her pillow, not planning to return it yet. She asked Song Qingre, "Are you in a hurry to use it? If so, you can take it back."

"No rush."

Yan Fu knocked again. "Are you ready?"

"Almost, we're getting dressed."

Yan Qingqiu got up to grab her cotton pajamas. "Song Qingre, come play cards too. We'll pull an all-nighter."

"Sleep by eleven. You just got out of the hospital."

"Fine," Yan Qingqiu nodded.

·

The card table was already set up downstairs, and Yan Fu had arranged his chips. The butler had turned on the oven and asked, "Dessert or roasted sweet potatoes?"

"I'll have roasted sweet potatoes. What about you all?" Yan Qingqiu came down first and turned to see Su Xingjie buttoning up her pajamas. "Xing Xing, what are you having?"

"Same as you."

"Then let's do sweet potatoes. They're warm to hold," Yan Fu said.

The head chef was already asleep, so they didn't call him in. The roasting duties fell to the butler.

Yan Qingqiu asked, "Uncle, can you play cards?"

Yan Fu said, "Uncle Dong was a master at cards in his youth."

Yan Qingqiu quickly dragged over a chair, patting it as she said, "You sit next to me and keep an eye on my hand. I'm going to wipe them out."

Yan Fu laughed. "You're quite the schemer."

"Hehe." Yan Qingqiu rubbed her hands together. She didn't know how to play cards and didn't like them either—she never had time in that world, and she disliked gambling. In short, she couldn't afford to lose.

Now that she had a good salary and pocket money, Yan Qingqiu said, "Dad, let's bet small."

"Of course," Yan Fu said, leading by example. He never gambled at banquets or friend gatherings.

The four spread out the cards. With the butler guiding her, Yan Qingqiu felt like she had divine help and won several rounds. She told the butler that if she won big, she'd split the winnings.

Yan Fu said, "Birds of a feather."

"Uncle Dong, my dad called you a beast. Hehe. Today you be the beast king and eat all my dad's cards."

Yan Qingqiu's mouth was practically blessed—Yan Fu lost terribly, with the other three ganging up on him. Sighing, Yan Fu asked, "Did you all plan this?"

Su Xingjie said, "Not at all, Uncle. Didn't you ask us to play?"

Yan Fu lamented, "I regret it."

After an hour, Song Qingre got a call—Ye Sichun, calling to wish Yan Qingqiu a happy birthday. Hearing they were playing cards, she said enviously that their household was celebrating New Year's early. Song Qingre said, "Aren't you and Luo Xi traveling? Your life sounds way more comfortable than mine."

Ye Sichun chuckled. "When I get back, I'll bring something special as a gift for Miss Yan."

"OK," Yan Qingqiu said. Song Qingre said she needed to get back to the game and hung up.

That night, Yan Qingqiu won a fair amount—two hundred yuan. Eating her sweet potato, she split the change with the butler. "Half for you, half for me. There's one extra yuan..."

The butler said, "You take it."

"Alright. Dad, here's one yuan." Yan Qingqiu held out the coin to Yan Fu beside her.

Fuming from his losses, Yan Fu glared at her, too proud to take it. "Who wants your one yuan? That's just insulting."

"I'm not insulting you. I just feel bad for you."

"Then give me that hundred you won."

Yan Qingqiu glanced at her money. "Dad, I think... I don't actually feel that bad for you after all."

"I knew it. Ungrateful."

Yan Qingqiu giggled, then turned to her best friend. "How much did you squeeze out of my dad?"

"About... uh, 98 yuan."

"What about you, Song Qingre?"

"About... 54."

"Give two yuan to Xing Xing, that makes 52. Hehe."

Song Qingre handed two bills to Su Xingjie—one for 52, one for 100.

Yan Fu watched them settle their accounts and thought of a dish: shark's fin with pork heart—a sharp stab to the heart.

The butler said, "As long as everyone had fun."

Yan Fu looked at the bills in his hand and snorted coldly.

Back in the room, Yan Qingqiu sat on the bed counting her money, impressed—she could buy a lot of snacks with this. Then she went to drag over the gift boxes to open. The gifts everyone gave her were probably quite valuable.

She opened Yan Fu's gift first. Her dad's gift was refreshingly simple—some shares that would give her dividends, plenty of spending money. Before, he'd never given her any, afraid she'd go wild. He also gave her a bracelet.

The bracelet had a huge blue diamond, looking very precious. Next, Su Xingjie's—a big box containing a beautiful artistic cup, with a jewelry box at the bottom full of various trinkets.

After opening those, she moved on to Song Qingre's. Song Qingre gave her a pearl necklace and a pearl ring.

"A ring."

"Mm." Song Qingre, buttoning her pajamas beside her, responded.

She was giving her this outright. Yan Qingqiu examined it closely—it seemed different from the one she'd bought before. A milky white pearl, surrounded by small carat diamonds. Very pretty, very beautiful.

"I bought it abroad," Song Qingre said. "Try it on."

Yan Qingqiu slipped the ring onto her finger—her ring finger. It fit perfectly. She switched to her middle finger, which fit even better. The pearl gleamed under the light, so lustrous, so beautiful. She loved it.

"Thanks," Yan Qingqiu said. "I just wonder if wearing a ring will affect my driving."

"You should take the ring off when driving." Song Qingre came to the bed seriously. "Otherwise it'll hurt..."

Yan Qingqiu had been thinking of that internet meme, and one sentence from her made her blush.

Song Qingre sat on the bed and said, "There's one more gift."

Yan Qingqiu kept looking. Under the black box was a smaller box. Opening it revealed a black tie.

"Why are you giving me a tie?" Yan Qingqiu held it up to her neck, thinking it looked a bit short.

It didn't feel like a tie at all.

"What is this for?" Yan Qingqiu asked curiously.

"A blindfold," Song Qingre said.

A blindfold?!

That wasn't for some kind of... you know, play thing, was it?

Song Qingre leaned sideways, moving closer to her, and said, "I want to blindfold you and... sleep with you."

Yan Qingqiu swallowed, her throat moving slowly.

That night, Yan Qingqiu slept on her side while Song Qingre lay flat. Yan Qingqiu hadn't looked at her for about half an hour. She shifted, wanting to turn the person beside her over and have her lean against her as she slept. Just as she propped herself up on her arm, she met Yan Qingqiu's gaze. Yan Qingqiu's lips were pressed to the pearl, fervently kissing the ring. Sensing the gaze above, she blinked.

"What?" Yan Qingqiu asked. She just wanted to kiss it; she didn't know why. Call her a money-grubber.

"Stop kissing it and go to sleep." Song Qingre said.

"Oh." Yan Qingqiu moved her hand away. She was about to say, Don't talk to me in that tone, it makes me feel like I'm doing something inappropriate, when her mouth was caught.

Yan Qingqiu's words were cut off as she was flipped onto her back, lips pressed against hers. Song Qingre's fingers slipped between hers.

Yan Qingqiu's pearl-ringed finger hooked over the back of her hand, eyes dazed from the kiss. She said, "Don't... the doctor said..."

"The doctor said you're fine now. We can go easy, just a little taste."

"Mm..."

A light taste, was it? But it felt like her lips were being kissed swollen, both teasing and unbearable.

The System might have been trying to scare her, deliberately making the text the same front and back, so no matter which angle she looked from, it was glaring.

It was normal for Song Qingre to be suspicious of her.

Or rather, Song Qingre was a sensitive person by nature. With her acting so coy, it was only natural for Song Qingre to doubt her.

If Yan Qingqiu was afraid of her, or if Song Qingre truly suspected her, then she was dancing on a blade's edge, close to death, being cut again and again.

The blindfold had been nudged loose by her movements. When she looked up, she could clearly see the words falling on her face.

On a snowy night, she heard the clear sound of rain.

··

The next day, winter snow had fallen all night.

This time it was thicker than the first snow, still drifting down flake by flake in the morning.

Before sleeping last night, Yan Qingqiu had written a few letters on the glass window with her finger: LOVE

She'd also written YYDS, but the YD had been wiped off, leaving only YS.

By morning, only a faint foggy layer remained.

When Song Qingre got up, she called for Yan Qingqiu. Yan Qingqiu woke but lingered in bed, whispering, "My mouth hurts."

Song Qingre sat at the bedside, body bathed in light, asking, "Which mouth?"

Yan Qingqiu shot her an annoyed look, pointing at her lips. Song Qingre was surprised. "We didn't even kiss here much yesterday, did we?"

"You wouldn't understand." Yan Qingqiu pulled the blanket over herself.

When she emerged again, she heard the sounds from the bathroom—Song Qingre was brushing her teeth.

Yan Qingqiu squinted, her mind's System coming online and offline intermittently, each time it was up deliberately brainwashing her.

The System said: 【She really loves Miss Yan.】

Yan Qingqiu said: 【Let her love then.】

The System said: 【You're just a stand-in.】

Yan Qingqiu said: 【You're not going to bring Miss Yan back anyway. When you do, I'll be the stand-in, I'll be the third wheel.】

The words stung to hear—no one wants to be a stand-in, or to agonize over who loves whom.

But then, Yan Qingqiu let her mind go blank, not thinking about it. There was a crucial question: Song Qingre knew so much about hosts. Did she know those people were imposters, transmigrators?

Song Qingre hadn't killed her yet. Did that mean she shared similarities with Miss Yan, or was she Miss Yan...

Would Miss Yan be sent somewhere else to start a new life? Would she fall in love with someone else?

Yan Qingqiu desperately wanted to become Miss Yan, so everything she had would be hers.

It was all the System's fault, making her feel so in love with Song Qingre.

She was becoming more and more selfish.

In the bathroom, Song Qingre was fixing her hair. She looked at herself in the mirror, her gaze drifting upward, landing on the top of her head. It was empty.

What was up there?

Qiuqiu was afraid of the basement but didn't know what was inside.

Her damp fingers tapped lightly above. Whatever it was...

Song Qingre's eyes closed slightly. Whatever it was, she would... figure it out. There were always things that had to pay a price, like Fu Ye—he had a 1% higher compatibility rate than her, so she ruined his gland. Like...

Song Qingre looked at herself in the mirror, feeling she was no longer herself, unrecognizable.

She washed her face, rubbing moisturizer into her cheeks. Yan Qingqiu pushed the door open, still half-asleep, gazing at her groggily.

Yan Qingqiu hadn't drunk but was still dazed, staring for a few seconds before washing her face, rubbing it a few times. "You almost done?"

"Almost."

Yan Qingqiu walked over, blinked, and started brushing her teeth.

"Did you dream last night?" Song Qingre asked.

Yan Qingqiu shook her head. She'd slept very soundly.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering what wonders your dreams hold."

Song Qingre checked herself in the mirror, and Yan Qingqiu did too. She saw the red text above Song Qingre's head, about the size of her head, neatly arranged.

Yan Qingqiu lowered her gaze to the sink.

Once she was ready, she came out.

Yan Qingqiu glanced downstairs, didn't see Su Xingjie, and knocked on the next door. The butler said Su Xingjie had left early for the company.

"Did she eat breakfast?"

"Yes, it's already eleven."

In the morning, after breakfast, Yan Qingqiu also went to the company, dragging Song Qingre along.

Now that she wasn't sick and was bouncing with energy, Song Qingre shouldn't have had to keep following her. Her excuse was flimsy: newlywed wives must stick together for forty-nine days or they'll divorce.

She thought she was talking pure nonsense.

But she had no choice—rather than being called a "stand-in" by the System, she'd rather stay with Song Qingre, even if there was that row of words above her head.

Song Qingre's eyes widened slightly, startled, as if scared, saying, "Then I can't leave you."

Yan Qingqiu turned to look and saw the thing above Song Qingre's head. She thought about it, grabbed a hat for Song Qingre—but it was futile; the words were still clearly visible.

Forget it. Yan Qingqiu gave up, deciding not to think about it, and was about to take the hat off when Song Qingre reached out and pressed it down, saying, "It's fine. It's cold today. Wearing it is nice."

Yan Qingqiu nodded, then picked up an ear warmer to wear, toasty warm.

As she went out, a strand of her hair stuck up. Song Qingre smoothed it down from behind.

In the car, Song Qingre drove.

She didn't sit in the passenger seat, going to the back instead. She closed her eyes, leaning back, recalling yesterday's events.

"Won't go too deep," Song Qingre had coaxed her yesterday.

Her eyes had been covered, unable to see anything, and she'd truly been afraid.

She'd reached out to hug Song Qingre, whose fingers had landed on her head—as if grabbing something, yet nothing at all, empty, before stroking her hair.

It was terrifying...

What was terrifying was desire. She couldn't see anything, enjoying this "demon" lying on top of her. Would she be devoured by this demon?

Would she be killed by her?

She didn't know, but she knew it wasn't enough.

Yan Qingqiu bit her lip, uncomfortable. Song Qingre bit her lip and asked, "Then..."

Her voice faded, but Yan Qingqiu still understood. Song Qingre said, "If you're not scared tomorrow, I'll give you one finger. If you're not scared the day after, two fingers. If three days go by and you're not scared..." and so on.

"Qiuqiu?"

"Hm?" Yan Qingqiu snapped back. Song Qingre had opened the car door, and her cheeks felt warm. She got out.

She secretly brushed her hair back, letting the cold wind cool her face.

Back in the office, Yan Qingqiu had Ji Xiangsi steep some tea—it was freezing. Song Qingre sat in her usual spot, occasionally replying to Sheng Huajian with a voice message while her computer was on.

Yan Qingqiu sat serenely in her office chair, picking at a few raisins, lost in thought, silent. Her gaze kept drifting to the top of Song Qingre's head until Song Qingre caught her, and she looked away.

Song Qingre finished her work, propped her chin on her hand, and met her gaze gently. "Still wondering who did it? Fu Sang, Qiang Wei—who has a problem? Or suspecting someone else?"

Yan Qingqiu didn't know how to respond.

But Song Qingre seemed to see right through her. "Want me to help you think of a way?"

"Qiuqiu, are you thinking about having those people come over to check on me, and whoever shows guilt is the mole?"

Yan Qingqiu wanted to nod—yes.

Song Qingre asked, "But why?"

Because there are words above your head. Whoever can see them... might be from the System. Yan Qingqiu just wanted to rule things out, to see if there was anyone like her, any mole from the System.

But how could she say that? She didn't have the guts to say it directly.

Song Qingre paused what she was doing, seeming to help her think of a plan. She said unhurriedly, "Is there something scary on my face that makes people afraid to look?"

Song Qingre asked with a smile, but it made Yan Qingqiu's breath catch. Her expression stiffened, and she hastily shook her head. "No, it's not that."

Song Qingre said, "Then... somewhere else."

Yan Qingqiu squeezed her fingers, not daring to meet Song Qingre's eyes. She bit her lip, recalling the image of kissing the top of her head yesterday.

How should she answer?

Song Qingre stared straight at her, not continuing the question, saying, "Qiuqiu, did you forget what I said yesterday?"

Yesterday? She remembered, remembered clearly.

"Don't be afraid of me today, tomorrow, or the day after."

"Qiuqiu chose three days."

Yan Qingqiu's body ached, thinking of the image of three fingers. She whispered, "I'm not scared at all."

"Mm." Song Qingre smiled.

Yan Qingqiu smiled too, taking a deep breath.

Song Qingre added, "So, you're only afraid of what's above my head, right?"

Yan Qingqiu choked. She'd figured it out?

Why did Song Qingre keep pressing, question after question coming like waves? Her questioning matched her rhythm.

She scrambled for excuses, trying to dodge this.

Or she could see what was above her own head.

"No, there's noth—" Yan Qingqiu feared her identity as an imposter would be exposed. How could she explain? Jump to something dirty, or...

Before she could finish, Song Qingre said calmly, "Qiuqiu, actually, you have something above your head too."

Yan Qingqiu stared at her, feeling petrified.

"Wh-what... what's above my head?"

Song Qingre walked over, looking at her head, her gaze scrutinizing seriously as her fingers tapped lightly. She said, "Qiuqiu, did you forget? I love stroking your head. Because there's always been something above it."

Yan Qingqiu panicked, feeling terrible. As Song Qingre reached out to touch her head, her foot accidentally kicked the desk, sending her ergonomic chair rolling far away. Song Qingre watched her as she gasped for breath, then walked over and pulled her back. Yan Qingqiu's heart raced, her body cold. Song Qingre's fingers stroked her head gently. "If I'm not afraid, why are you?"

She said slowly, "I've seen it for a long time. Since the day I came back and Qiuqiu slept with me, it's been there. I was so shocked I wondered if the world was broken."

Yan Qingqiu stared at her in shock.

She'd been exposed on her very first day of transmigrating?

Her eyes went wide, her body cold, frozen in her chair.

It couldn't be, right... What was going on? This was terrifying. Was she lying to me?

"I just kept thinking, why does Qiuqiu have something there? Is something controlling her? But Qiuqiu wouldn't tell me clearly, so I could only test and guess little by little, not daring to alert the enemy."

"Last time during Qiuqiu's heat, I guessed... that Qiuqiu might have to spend it with Fu Ye, so I set a trap for him."

So that was it! She was helping her through her tasks!

Were the things above her head her tasks? She'd been helping her complete tasks. No wonder she hadn't pushed her away the first time they kissed!

But Yan Qingqiu didn't dare fully trust her. "If that's so, you... aren't you afraid?"

"At first, a little. I didn't dare talk to you for a few days, especially when you kept me—when you had me sit on your lap and kissed me breathless. I was terrified then... I could only stay mysterious and accept being kept. Didn't you ask why I had money but let you keep me? I didn't dare say it then—I could see what was above your head. I thought someone must be forcing you, so I went along with it. I didn't expect you to suspect me."

Yan Qingqiu felt a touch of warmth in her heart. She opened her eyes slightly. So she'd been running around with tasks above her head this whole time? That was mortifying. And Song Qingre managed not to laugh. She tested her. "So the words above my head... are they something like 'kiss me' or something?"

As she spoke, she watched Song Qingre's lips curl up.

"Words?"

A smile tugged at Song Qingre's lips, a little unrestrained.

"It's not words... Huh? What? Are you lying to me?" Yan Qingqiu looked at her nervously, afraid of being tricked, but she felt Song Qingre's smile was a bit mocking, as if she looked down on words.

Song Qingre picked up the cup on the table and took a sip of tea.

So it was words. She smiled again. She'd thought it was a video, that Qiuqiu might see those 9,124 scenes. She'd been troubled for a long time, taken her to the basement to test, thinking about how to solve this problem.

Thinking how scared her darling was, how should she get back at her?

Thinking how to... fudge her way through.

So it was words... just words.

"Are you lying to me?" Yan Qingqiu frowned, asking again, still trying to struggle, but her mind was already smoking from Song Qingre's words.

"What's above Qiuqiu's head... I don't think it's words. It looks like it, but also doesn't. I don't know how to describe it." Song Qingre gestured with her hands. "Sometimes there are words, sometimes there aren't..."

Yan Qingqiu suddenly understood. It must be those censor symbols. Damn, so everything above her head was censored, she'd been walking around with those symbols all day—that was so embarrassing, like she was some thirst bucket.

Thinking fast, she said, "Then draw it for me. I think you're lying to me. How could normal people have words above their heads? You're a painter—you can definitely draw it!"

Song Qingre smoothed her forehead, kissed it devotedly, ran a finger down her nose, and said, "I saw clearly once... 'Remove the gland,' right?"

"!!!"

She actually knew.

Yan Qingqiu wanted to curse the System. Why? Damn it, System, are you insane?! No wonder your transmigrators all died immediately—they all had words above their heads, right? The System really wanted Song Qingre to kill her! It had ill intentions!

"What do you see now? Draw it, draw it." Yan Qingqiu continued looking for paper, still not wanting to expose herself.

Scared.

Song Qingre squinted, holding a pen, the tip touching the ink. She said, "This thing, is it something that thing called A-Tong put there?... I never understood, thought about it for a long time, felt it was a code, thought my IQ wasn't high enough to crack it."

In a sense, it was a kind of code—the System must have done it on purpose. Looking at the top of Song Qingre's head, hesitating for a long time, she nodded... The System had given her tasks!

Her whole body broke out in goosebumps, thinking of all those censored question prompts. If Song Qingre could see them, wouldn't she be able to leak the answers to her?

But what if Song Qingre was... lying to her?

"I want to draw it too, but it often vanishes in an instant. Sometimes my eyes hurt. As if something's wrong, flickering sometimes." Song Qingre whispered in her ear, "Like something suddenly glitching."

A glitch. Was she hinting at a game glitch?

Like wind blowing into her ear.

Song Qingre couldn't see it, probably because... it was too lewd... a bit yellow... a bit violent.

Song Qingre said, "Oh, because Qiuqiu is a little pervert. I remember now..."

Yan Qingqiu felt awful, wanting to grab her leg, yet afraid of her, and even more afraid of herself. She wanted badly to cry but held back. She didn't want to expose herself yet couldn't help it. Maybe she could fight for a way out. Gritting her teeth, she went for it. "Anyway, I don't know if there's anything there. If you see it clearly, then... tell me!"

Song Qingre stroked her head, soothing her. Yan Qingqiu thought dazedly, Song Qingre was really bold—yesterday she'd kissed the words above her head a few times and climaxed several times, people were exhausted, and Song Qingre dared to just touch it directly...

Yan Qingqiu felt guilty. I'm truly useless.

"Qiuqiu, don't be afraid. It's not that I can't see clearly. I'll look slowly, be good." Song Qingre said to the empty air above her head, even though she couldn't see anything.

But that didn't stop her from making it up bit by bit...