Chapter 68

Song Qingre sat on the edge of the desk, stroking Yan Qingqiu's head. Yan Qingqiu couldn't be sure if there were words hovering above her own head, but she had the distinct feeling Song Qingre was tracing them.

Uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable.

Yan Qingqiu felt lightheaded, breathing in her scent—a clean, citrusy fragrance. It smelled so good, so sweet.

So sweet she wanted to keep it all to herself.

Can she really see it? Can she see my thoughts?

Song Qingre pulled her hand away, and the urge to possess faded. Yan Qingqiu felt a hollow ache in her chest, as if something were missing.

Song Qingre returned to her workstation and continued working. She said to Sheng Huajian, "No more work for Chinese New Year. We'll start fresh next year. You and Xiaofu can rest early."

Yan Qingqiu watched her for a while, uneasy. She felt like she'd exposed herself too soon. Now that she'd dropped the act, it really wasn't safe.

But for some reason, whenever Song Qingre looked at her, she felt utterly naked.

She grabbed a piece of paper and folded it randomly, making an oversized rabbit. She thought about Song Qingre's words.

A rabbit. Self-created.

Did that mean Song Qingre could do it too? Could they be on equal footing?

Song Qingre glanced at her, and she shoved the rabbit into the drawer. Only then did she realize she'd unconsciously folded so many rabbits.

A whole drawer full.

Yan Qingqiu closed the drawer, took out a fresh piece of paper, and walked over to Song Qingre. "Draw it. Draw what's above my head. Your memory's that good—if you can't draw it, I'll know something's off."

"What's off?"

Yan Qingqiu gritted her teeth. "I didn't see anything above your head. You were definitely lying just now. Draw what's above my head."

"Then why were you staring at my head?" Song Qingre said. "Qiuqiu, this makes me sad. I told you my secret."

Song Qingre could have taken it slow. She could have pretended to see something above Yan Qingqiu's head, cast a long line to catch a big fish, lure Yan Qingqiu in bit by bit until she started doubting herself—until she convinced herself there might be something above her own head too. And then Yan Qingqiu would walk right into her trap.

But she felt it was too slow.

Thinking about how Qiuqiu was always afraid of her, she couldn't stand it.

She wanted to drive that disgusting A-Tong out forever.

Yan Qingqiu didn't know how to explain. Because—because—Song Qingre, you're a psychopathic killer. How am I supposed to say that?

"I can't see clearly either. It's flickering..." Yan Qingqiu said.

"So there is something above my head, right?" Song Qingre countered.

Yan Qingqiu was stunned, not even registering it. She put the paper on the desk and said, "Anyway, if there's something above my head, then there's something above yours."

Schrödinger's cat!

Yan Qingqiu felt she'd aced the test.

"Mm, actually, we're the same. No one else has it," Song Qingre said, her fingers tapping on the keyboard.

Then she looked at Yan Qingqiu's head and said softly, "Fine, I'll draw it. Go sit."

"Okay." Yan Qingqiu sat obediently, propping her chin on her hand. Song Qingre kept looking at her head, and kept looking...

Yan Qingqiu couldn't take it anymore. Her skin crawled. She couldn't help but wonder: when that thing first appeared above Song Qingre's head, she'd been afraid of her. When she'd looked at Song Qingre's head, had Song Qingre felt the same way? Like her skin crawling, like she was trembling?

But Song Qingre hadn't. At their wedding, she'd even said, "Qiuqiu, look at my face."

She was amazing.

She wanted to touch her own head.

Yan Qingqiu propped her chin on her hand and called Ji Xiangsi on the landline, telling her to call Qiang Wei and Fu Sang and have them come over.

"Fu Sang might not come. Won't they fight?"

"Tell her Director Su asked," Yan Qingqiu said.

After hanging up, Yan Qingqiu realized something terrifying.

The only thing between her and Song Qingre now was a thin membrane—a membrane that, plain and simple, was the annoying System.

Yan Qingqiu was fuming when the door was knocked on. She was about to get up, but Song Qingre stood first, pressing a finger to her lips with a soft shush.

Yan Qingqiu didn't understand. Song Qingre said, "Phone. Video."

Yan Qingqiu opened her phone and set the mode. The door opened, and in came Qiang Wei. Song Qingre stood sideways, slightly bowed, so anyone outside could see the top of her head at a glance.

"Miss Yan, what's the matter?" Qiang Wei asked with a smile, then noticed Song Qingre and said softly, "Miss Song is here too."

"Mm." Song Qingre nodded.

Yan Qingqiu watched her. Song Qingre closed the door and sat down in her chair. Yan Qingqiu handed Qiang Wei a cup of tea. Qiang Wei took a sip, looking around. "I don't see Director Su?"

"Su Xingjie asked me to ask you something. Were you and Fu Sang friends before?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

"Yes..." Qiang Wei said, her brow furrowing slightly as she stared across. "Miss Song, what's wrong?"

Yan Qingqiu turned to look and nearly jumped out of her skin.

Song Qingre was leaning on one hand, her fingers gripping the line of characters above her head—as if stroking it, or as if showing it off.

Yan Qingqiu couldn't figure out whether she was trying to scare someone or... adjusting whatever was up there.

Qiang Wei looked at Yan Qingqiu, puzzled. "What's... wrong with her head?"

"She, she's thinking about modeling poses. She's going to paint a dancer."

"...You scared me. I thought she was doing something weird, scratching at her head like that. Spooky." Qiang Wei laughed sheepishly. After the laugh, she paused, then answered the earlier topic. "Actually, yes, we used to be friends—talked about everything. Then one day, out of nowhere, she said she didn't want to be friends anymore. Her tone was final."

"She said you're two-faced," Yan Qingqiu said. "I overheard her telling Director Su that about you."

Qiang Wei said, "Maybe. Who can be the same inside and out?" She held her cup, palm pressed against the warm glass. "Do you want to help me fix the relationship? No need. It doesn't matter. In a way, she wasn't wrong."

"So what actually happened?" Yan Qingqiu was curious.

Qiang Wei glanced at Song Qingre. "A secret."

"About liking Director Su?" Song Qingre struck through it in one sentence.

Qiang Wei's smile hadn't faded, but it froze on her face. She stared at Song Qingre, at a loss for words.

She'd guessed Song Qingre would say it. She'd been on guard against her all along.

Qiang Wei set down her teacup without having taken a sip. "I have things to do. I'll head out."

"Ah..." Yan Qingqiu hadn't finished asking. "Qiang Wei, let's talk a little more."

Qiang Wei, back turned to her, said, "Whether you believe it or not, Fu Sang's doing all this because she wants me to say out loud that I like Director Su. Then... confessing means heartbreak. And I'll leave the company for good."

With that, Qiang Wei left.

Song Qingre rested her chin on one hand, watching Qiang Wei leave. Yan Qingqiu shot her a glare. "You were way too blunt. I hadn't finished asking."

"You'll never get anything out of beating around the bush," Song Qingre said, picking up a pencil. She hissed—the tip had snapped. She took out a knife to sharpen it. "Better to be direct." She said it pointedly, her gaze traveling from Yan Qingqiu's face up to her head, narrowing her eyes as if trying to read the words there.

"Call the next one," Song Qingre said.

Yan Qingqiu felt her head itch. This time it wasn't like her brain was growing—maybe her brain was being drained dry.

Yan Qingqiu called two more models.

Moli and Miaomiao.

Those two didn't even glance at Song Qingre's head. They just stuffed themselves at the office, which made Yan Qingqiu think Qiang Wei was suspicious.

Qiang Wei came. Fu Sang didn't.

That was expected, since the two didn't get along anyway. Fu Sang probably guessed what she was up to and deliberately stayed away. Besides, even if Fu Sang came, the two would just argue, and she wouldn't know how to ask.

Ji Xiangsi came in to refresh the tea. "Hey, Fu Sang just took a bunch of stuff into Director Su's office."

"Why is she still bothering Xing Xing?"

Ji Xiangsi said, "Maybe she doesn't want to resign. ER's resources are really good—no other modeling agency pushes resources as hard as Director Su does. If I were a model, I wouldn't leave either. Too bad I don't have that luck..."

With all her fuss, everyone in the company knew the reason. She figured the company couldn't do without her, that Director Su couldn't do without her. But Director Su was famous for being heartless. Even if she knelt and begged, it wouldn't help.

Song Qingre kept looking at Yan Qingqiu, expecting her to go defend Su Xingjie. But she didn't. Instead, she asked blankly, "Do you think there are words above Xing Xing's head?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just asking," Yan Qingqiu said.

That evening when they got off work, Song Qingre slipped her a piece of paper. She glanced at it and immediately rolled it up.

"How is it?" Song Qingre asked.

Yan Qingqiu's face flushed just from the glance.

"You drew this?"

She'd drawn a lewd pose, with Yan Qingqiu on the bottom, the details rendered with exquisite clarity—flower was flower, stamen was stamen.

In full bloom, the flower still carried dew.

They headed home. The snow had stopped, but it had fallen thick, blanketing the streets and rooftops, clinging to the withered vines crawling over the courtyard walls. Everything was a sea of white. She rubbed her hands together, put on her rabbit ear clips, and shared a pair of gloves with Song Qingre, one each.

They had dinner at home. At night, Yan Qingqiu unrolled the painting to look at it.

She recalled the afternoon's events, her heart racing. She didn't want to blame Song Qingre, but she couldn't stop tossing and turning. Song Qingre had outmaneuvered her so skillfully—she was so clever.

Turn over once: I like her.

Turn over again: So annoying, so annoying—still, I like her.

She burrowed under the covers. This is killing me. Why do I like her so much?

She squirmed under the blanket, feeling utterly ridiculous.

Yan Qingqiu mulled it over and decided it was the System's fault. It had forced that persona onto her head. How could any normal person ignore it? It made her keep staring.

Is there really something above my head or not?

So annoying.

Song Qingre was in the shower. Yan Qingqiu only dared to peek at the painting, at the key parts. Song Qingre had even drawn herself. When Song Qingre came back, she pulled Yan Qingqiu over and sat her on her lap. Her skin was still damp with steam.

Yan Qingqiu couldn't sit still. She hadn't showered yet; she was covered in dust.

Song Qingre locked an arm around her waist. "Qiuqiu, you shouldn't be afraid of me. The ones to fear are the people who sow discord. We should be good to each other."

She placed Yan Qingqiu's fingers in her palm. Struggling was futile—Yan Qingqiu still had the ring Song Qingre had given her from yesterday, forgotten to take off.

Song Qingre said, "We're wives. We have to trust each other." She lifted Yan Qingqiu's hand and kissed it.

Song Qingre was brainwashing her, but not the way the System did—not diminishing her, not calling her a stand-in. No, she was pouring sweet words into her ears, feeding them to her like honey.

"I don't care if there's something above your head," Song Qingre said. "But if there's something above mine... then that's fine. I think it's nice. Qiuqiu and I are the same kind of people." Song Qingre smiled, pulling herself into Yan Qingqiu's camp rather than setting herself apart.

They both had words above their heads.

We're the same...

Yan Qingqiu still wanted to say there was nothing above her head.

"It's okay. I'm used to Qiuqiu not being honest."

Yan Qingqiu's lips moved. "I am honest."

Song Qingre asked, "Where's A-Tong?" She asked it lightly.

"..." Yan Qingqiu thought about it. She couldn't handle the System, or Song Qingre. Could she try sowing discord between them?

Yan Qingqiu debated whether to tell her. Right now, it felt like there was a problem either way.

She hinted, "I'm a very gentle person."

Song Qingre looked at her seriously. "Is that so?"

Yan Qingqiu frantically shifted the blame. "Yes. I'm actually very gentle. Wasn't I gentle to you when we were kids?"

Subtext: I was coerced. That's why I was mean at first.

"Mm, Qiuqiu was very cute and well-behaved as a child," Song Qingre said.

Yan Qingqiu nodded. "There were things I did to hurt you before..."

"That wasn't Qiuqiu's instinct," Song Qingre said.

Yan Qingqiu wanted to pin a medal on Song Qingre. She was too smart. Truly impressive.

"Then, Qiuqiu, come and act cute for me," Song Qingre said. "You used to cling to my arm and act cute all the time. I want to hear Qiuqiu act cute."

"Mm..." Yan Qingqiu's cheeks flushed.

"Qiuqiu, you've changed a little."

Yan Qingqiu's heart seized.

Song Qingre said, "But a thousand changes can't alter the core. Qiuqiu is still Qiuqiu."

Those words made Yan Qingqiu feel light as air. She dashed off to shower. When she came out, she stood at the door, still floating. One compliment and she couldn't handle it.

Song Qingre said, "Just like in the painting."

Yan Qingqiu stood there, naked—ah, she'd forgotten to put on clothes.

Her body began to undergo the trial of Song Qingre's gaze.

Like standing in punishment, or like deliberately exposing herself to be shamed...

She liked being shamed by Song Qingre.

Song Qingre said, "Yan Qingqiu, move a little on your own. I think I just saw something... It seems to show up when things get lewd."

Yan Qingqiu's fingers brushed through her black hair, moving gently.

"I didn't actually make Qiuqiu do this, but Qiuqiu is so good," Song Qingre praised.

Yan Qingqiu trembled slightly. "I..."

"Don't talk." Song Qingre kept looking at her head.

Yan Qingqiu's face burned. "Maybe... let's skip it for today."

"We still need to look..." Song Qingre's gaze dropped from her head to her fingers, studying them seriously, appreciatively.

Yan Qingqiu half-closed her eyes. After those seven days and seven nights, she'd grown increasingly bold. The married life was wilder by the day.

"Let me ask you something."

"If, hypothetically, everyone supported me marrying Fu Ye, and only you opposed it—what would you do?"

"Steal you away," Song Qingre said.

She looked straight at Yan Qingqiu. Not satisfied, she walked over herself and nudged her, saying it was for a more detailed drawing.

Only then did Yan Qingqiu notice Song Qingre was holding a paintbrush.

"I'll take you away. Whoever tries to stop you, I'll kill them." Song Qingre breathed against her ear, then took her earlobe into her mouth.

Yan Qingqiu's heart went cold. She looked at Song Qingre and whispered, "Don't talk like that. It scares me."

"Okay." Song Qingre kissed her cheek. Yan Qingqiu instinctively brushed against her fingers and palm. She caught the scent of alcohol on Song Qingre—she'd had a little wine with Yan Fu that evening.

Yan Qingqiu's body instinctively feared her, but also instinctively depended on her.

"What if I definitely marry Fu Ye?"

Song Qingre wasn't as decisive. She hesitated, the air in her chest dissipating. She countered, "What if one day, you can't control yourself, and you want to marry Fu Ye?"

Yan Qingqiu choked. She leaned on Song Qingre's shoulder. Song Qingre's brush pressed against her. Yan Qingqiu didn't resist, asking, "Is it clean?"

Song Qingre said, "It's clean. I even put on the scent you like."

"If that day comes... kill me." She heard herself say it.

She didn't know what Miss Yan thought, but if she married anyone other than Song Qingre, she'd be miserable. And if it was Fu Ye—she'd rather die.

Actually... thinking about it that way, there was nothing to be afraid of.

So when Song Qingre's brush began to work, she didn't feel scared. It was Song Qingre's usual brush...

She liked it too.

Song Qingre bit her ear and said, "You can't die... I'd miss you so much. I'd be heartbroken. The moment you disappear, I'd be at a loss."

· ·

On the other side of the night, Su Xingjie hadn't gone to sleep. She was working overtime at the company, clutching a stack of photos in her hand.

Su Xingjie looked at what Fu Sang had brought—all photos of Qiang Wei and Fu Ye embracing intimately.

Fu Sang's eyes were slightly red. She bit her lip, wearing an expression of utter desperation. "I hired someone to take these. I was really good friends with her at first, but then I found out she had a private connection with Fu Ye. That's why I thought she had a character problem. I've been wanting to tell you, but you never believed me."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Fu Sang lowered her gaze. "She was my friend. I didn't want it to go that far. If you'd just trusted me, we could have ended it with some dignity." She looked at Su Xingjie, baffled. "Because of that one sentence... you didn't even consider the context. Yan Qingqiu barged in out of nowhere, and I couldn't do anything. Song Qingre grabbed me without asking what happened. I don't understand why you're so blindly loyal to Yan Qingqiu. Don't you wonder why Qiang Wei wasn't there at the time—why I was so easily caught?"

"This really wasn't me. Call me clingy, call me shameless, I don't care. I just don't want to be framed." Fu Sang gasped. "As for Qiang Wei, I don't know why you trust her so much. Is it because you propped her up so much that you can't handle her betraying you?"

That hit Su Xingjie where it hurt. She truly couldn't accept that someone she'd promoted so highly had betrayed her. But now she couldn't find a reason why Qiang Wei would be in contact with people on that side.

"When you made her retire, it was a devastating blow to her. She never wanted to leave—the stage was her life. Do you think she loves her life more, or loves you? She... not hating you is already admirable."

Su Xingjie was speechless.

Su Xingjie squeezed the photos so hard she wanted to tear them apart on the spot, but the photos were well protected. She crumpled them into a ball.

The stack of photos became a stack of stains. Fu Sang left, slamming the door so hard it echoed, expressing her defiance and grievance.

Su Xingjie didn't sleep all night. Finally, she photographed the photos and sent them to Yan Qingqiu.

The next day, Yan Qingqiu saw them and didn't know what to say either. She was gloomy too. She'd suspected Fu Sang for so long, and now her face stung. She video-called Su Xingjie and asked what Qiang Wei had said.

Su Xingjie said, "Qiang Wei hasn't replied to my messages. She's not answering her phone either."

Beside her, Song Qingre shook her head and let out a soft sigh.

Yan Qingqiu didn't understand what that expression meant and asked.

"Su Xingjie looks cold and decisive, but her feelings run to extremes. One extreme is she thinks she's heartless, but she can't stand being betrayed. The other is she's affectionate, giving unconditional trust to those she believes in. When trouble comes, she gets lost and loses judgment."

"What does that mean? I don't get it." Yan Qingqiu hung up so her best friend couldn't hear.

"Either keep going down one road, or keep going down the wrong one," Song Qingre said. She let out a soft sigh, which gave Yan Qingqiu the illusion that she was about to make her move.

At that moment, Yan Qingqiu should have been scared. But seeing how confident Song Qingre looked, she inexplicably lost her head. Even if she was a villain, even if they went crazy, there was still a certain charm.

Yan Qingqiu followed suit and gave herself her own assessment.

This woman must not fall in love. Once she does, she can't pull herself out, can't stay rational. In short: a lovebrain.

As she thought about it, it struck her—wasn't that Luo Xi's verdict? How did it end up on her? Yan Qingqiu shook her head hard, refusing to admit it.

"Come on, let's go out for a meal today," Song Qingre said.

Yan Qingqiu kept staring at her head, thinking about how clever Song Qingre really was. How had she managed to kill over nine thousand hosts? If she put herself in that position, she really couldn't do a single one. She'd probably die faster than anyone.

"Who are we eating with?"

"Ye Sichun," Song Qingre said. "She mentioned last time she'd bring you a gift, right? Perfect—she can drop it off today. Call Su Xingjie too. She needs a break."

"Oh, oh, oh." Yan Qingqiu nodded. Were they getting Ye Sichun's help? Ye Sichun's shop did get a lot of customers... Hmm, she'd heard that hair salons were the best places to catch affairs and cheating.

Nice.

"Stop daydreaming. Buckle your seatbelt. Or are you waiting for me to help you?"

Song Qingre reached out and gently squeezed the seatbelt buckle beside her.

A tingle ran through her.

Yan Qingqiu's cheeks flushed slightly. She couldn't handle being teased like this.

What a shameless woman.

The car arrived at the restaurant. Ye Sichun was already there, cracking sunflower seeds. Luo Xi sat beside her, the two chatting and laughing together.

Yan Qingqiu watched the scene and couldn't help asking, "Did those two secretly get married and not tell anyone?"

Ye Sichun looked at Luo Xi with a warm, smiling gaze, and beside her, Luo Xi's eyes arched slightly. She looked so cute.

Damn, I actually think she's cute.

Yan Qingqiu wanted to slap herself to snap out of it. She walked straight in. The two were huddled together. Seeing her, Ye Sichun kept smiling, and Luo Xi let out a snort.

"If Sister weren't treating, I wouldn't have come."

Yan Qingqiu said, "You think I wanted to come? I'm here to get the gift Ye Sichun owes me."

She sat down, but didn't see her Xing Xing. Yan Qingqiu quickly called Su Xingjie. Su Xingjie answered through her Bluetooth earbuds. "Almost there."

Ye Sichun took out a box and handed it to her.

"What's this?" Yan Qingqiu opened the box.

"A wind lion god," Luo Xi explained. "Never seen one, have you?"

Yan Qingqiu looked at her, expecting the word "hick" to come out of her mouth next. At the bottom of the box was also a jade gourd pendant.

Luo Xi added, "This is a safety charm."

"One for you, one for my sister," Luo Xi said.

Ye Sichun said, "Luo Xi bought them."

The gourd was nice, but Luo Xi's repeated "sister" grated on her ears.

Yan Qingqiu gave her a disgusted glance. She noticed Luo Xi's sleeve was rolled up nearly to her elbow—not afraid of the cold in winter—until she spotted a bracelet on Luo Xi's wrist with half a fish on it. She looked at Ye Sichun's wrist.

Ye Sichun hadn't rolled her down jacket into short sleeves like Luo Xi. Yan Qingqiu told herself, that's how villainous supporting characters are—dazed, dumb, scheming, and thinking no one can see through them.

Su Xingjie arrived late, looking exhausted. She greeted everyone and sat down beside Yan Qingqiu. Yan Qingqiu asked, "You didn't drive yourself, did you?"

"My assistant drove," Su Xingjie said, nodding at Ye Sichun.

"Still the model thing?" Song Qingre asked.

Su Xingjie nodded. "I feel pretty embarrassed. Qiang Wei still can't be found."

"Some of the models at your company are definitely not proper—especially one with blonde hair, just like hers." Luo Xi pointed at Yan Qingqiu's hair.

Su Xingjie said, "There's plenty of blondes at our company."

"That's strange. She looks a lot like her." Luo Xi said, looking at Yan Qingqiu with obvious disgust. "Clearly a stand-in for her."

Su Xingjie still didn't know who she meant.

Luo Xi wanted to keep going, but Ye Sichun shot her a look, signaling her not to talk nonsense. Su Xingjie was famously protective of her people. Luo Xi said, "Maybe I remembered wrong. Not your company."

"I sent the photos Fu Sang gave me to Qiang Wei."

"What did Qiang Wei say?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

"She won't reply." Su Xingjie was miserable. She'd always defended Qiang Wei, trusted her, but...

She said, "I might as well have gotten a dog."

Across from her, Luo Xi watched their exchange with growing curiosity, barely able to contain herself. She kept looking at Ye Sichun, desperate to speak. Ye Sichun nodded, and she immediately blurted out, "Right, right, right, it's her. I know this one!"

"Mm?" Yan Qingqiu looked at her. Su Xingjie did too. "What do you know?"

"Of course! I used to see my brother meeting them in secret all the time. I even cried a few times."

"Them?"

"Yeah. At first, my brother met that blonde a lot. I caught them several times. That slut was disgusting."

"You mean Fu Sang?"

"That's the name. Fu Sang. I thought it sounded like funeral. Bad luck." Luo Xi said.

Yan Qingqiu hated Luo Xi, but she did like what she was hearing. At least the two had a sliver of common ground.

Su Xingjie thought for a moment, then showed Luo Xi a group photo. "That one?"

"The blonde." Luo Xi pointed immediately.

Su Xingjie frowned again. She pulled out another crumpled photo and handed it over.

Luo Xi said she'd seen this one too. "This one has a leg problem. But she didn't stay with my brother long—she nodded politely and left. The blonde met my brother often. Another time, this one with the leg problem walked out and got bumped. My brother caught her, but she shoved him away hard. I thought she was feisty. The way this photo's taken... what's the word... taking it out of context."

"So you think it's the blonde who's having an affair with your brother?" Yan Qingqiu pushed the two photos over.

"Definitely the blonde. Every time I see her, I hate her as much as I hate you. She's clearly no good. Isn't she just the stand-in my brother found?" Luo Xi said. "And every time I asked my brother, he told me to mind my own business. If they weren't involved, why would he say that?"

"Then why is Fu Sang playing the victim?" Yan Qingqiu was genuinely baffled by Fu Sang, unsure who to suspect.

"Are you all stupid? It's all her tricks. You're dumb. Her crying victim is just a distraction. The more naive and stupid a woman looks, the smarter she is. She plays dumb to confuse you, to make you think it wasn't her." With that, Luo Xi glanced at Song Qingre and said, "Sister, I'm not talking about you."

Damn it. This bitch really was treating Song Qingre as her sister.

Yan Qingqiu swallowed her words.

"Oh, right. My brother also opened a modeling agency for this woman."

Yan Qingqiu: "!!!"

"But, sister, didn't you..." ask me about this before? Luo Xi wanted to say, but Song Qingre's gaze cut her off. Luo Xi pressed her lips together.

"How do you know Fu Ye opened a modeling agency for her?" Su Xingjie asked.

Luo Xi looked at Ye Sichun, hesitant.

Yan Qingqiu said bluntly, "She must have liked Fu Ye. When she saw other women around him, she went to investigate."

Luo Xi was uncomfortable with that. "Fine, I admit I liked him at first. But I don't anymore. I have someone I like now."

"Who?"

Luo Xi snorted. She and Yan Qingqiu had an inherent incompatibility. No matter who was around, they ended up bickering.

Ye Sichun said, "How about this? Let's set a table rule: don't mention that person at the table."

"Wait." Su Xingjie asked Luo Xi again, "You really know Fu Sang? You're sure it's her?"

"She's so cheap. Of course I know her. Because of her, I cried several times." Luo Xi said firmly. "I'm absolutely sure it's her."

Although Luo Xi called Song Qingre sister, Yan Qingqiu felt she and Luo Xi might be sisters herself—their perceptions were way too aligned. She genuinely thought Fu Sang was suspicious.

Luo Xi added, "Don't you think Fu Sang looks a lot like her? Aside from the eyes, skin tone, and hairstyle, if you just photoshopped Fu Sang's hair, you'd see it."

Su Xingjie looked at Yan Qingqiu. "I really hadn't noticed."

Luo Xi grabbed her phone. "I'll find a picture online and photoshop it for you. I have a friend who's a pro."

Song Qingre said, "We'd appreciate that."

"No problem."

"You're pretty smart," Song Qingre said.

Luo Xi's eyes brightened slightly. She kept nudging Ye Sichun with her elbow. "Did you hear that? She said I'm smart."

Yan Qingqiu felt a pang of displeasure.

"Why did you say she's smart? Look at her showing off." Yan Qingqiu huffed.

Song Qingre said, "She did call me sister. If you called me that, I'd think you were smart too."

"Pfft." Yan Qingqiu acted unimpressed. She tapped on her phone twice, and soon Song Qingre's phone buzzed.

Song Qingre looked down.

Yan Qingqiu: 【She's your wife. Why would she call you sister? Have some self-awareness. Just because she calls you sister, you're floating?】

Song Qingre: 【...Right. You're right, I'd forgotten.】

Ye Sichun raised her glass. "Enough. We're at the table. Stop playing with your phones."

· ·

On the way back to the company, Yan Qingqiu sat in the back seat, head tilted, thinking about Luo Xi's words. Did she really look that much like Fu Sang? She didn't think so.

Song Qingre drove and said, "You're prettier than her."

Back at the company, Song Qingre told her to go in first, saying she needed to make a phone call.

Yan Qingqiu agreed and stood at the door, tilting her head to see where she went. Song Qingre looked back too, smiling at her. "Wait for me."

"Okay."

"Good girl."

Song Qingre did have her phone in hand, but she wasn't making a call. She went to Fu Sang's office instead. She knocked politely. Fu Sang happened to be coming out. She opened the door, saw her, and frowned hard.

"Move."

Song Qingre smiled. "You're quite good at pretending."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Fu Sang said.

Song Qingre said, "You put on this whole show, crying so convincingly, just to distract everyone, to make them think you're naive and dumb, and then walk away scot-free."

Fu Sang frowned, still looking like she didn't understand.

"This trick of yours... I got bored of it long ago." Song Qingre raised her eyes to look at her.

Fu Sang took out her phone. Song Qingre said, "Does my head look good?"

Fu Sang's hand froze, her gaze going to Song Qingre's head. In that instant, Song Qingre moved fast—she reached out and grabbed Fu Sang's neck, shoving her straight into the room.

Fu Sang's face shifted drastically. She pushed the charm off her phone, and the metal key turned into a thin, sharp knife.

The blade pressed against Song Qingre's stomach. Song Qingre looked down at her hand and laughed. The thin blade shifted, slicing open her down jacket.

Song Qingre looked back at Fu Sang, her eyes reflecting the shadow of the knife.

It was in that moment Fu Sang understood.

Song Qingre hadn't tested her by making her look up. She hadn't grabbed her throat to kill her. She'd made her draw the knife.

Fu Sang's gaze hadn't dropped yet—still fixed on her head. Song Qingre said, "No need to look. I know you can't see."

After all, only Qiuqiu could see that.

Everyone else was a fake.

Fu Sang stared at her, her eyes bulging nearly out of their sockets.

Yan Qingqiu sat in the office for a long time, replaying the day's events. She felt like she'd been muddling through, unable to sniff out the mole. Each of them acted better than she did. Even Luo Xi, a lovebrain, was more observant than her.

Yan Qingqiu thought about it and went to message Song Qingre. Before she could send it, Ji Xiangsi came back and said she'd seen Song Qingre go to Fu Sang's place.

Yan Qingqiu was afraid Song Qingre was acting on her behalf, so she hurried toward Fu Sang's office. Then she thought better of it and made a call.

When she reached the door, the whole room seemed to go soft.

The feeling was similar to how she'd felt right after transmigrating—nothing solid to hold on to. She didn't dare push open the door. Her head ached, and a sharp intuition told her she'd run into some kind of mental power. But didn't mental power have no effect on omegas?

"How strange."

Thinking Song Qingre was still inside, she gritted her teeth and quietly inched the door open, peeking in.

Everything inside was wavering and unstable. She could only see Song Qingre gripping someone by the neck. The light inside seemed to have dimmed, making her eyes uncomfortable.

"No way... Song Qingre, why don't you just die?" The voice inside was low, impossible to make out.

Yan Qingqiu pulled back. Her legs felt weak. Soon after, she heard Song Qingre's light voice. "Got you."

Combined with the eerie room, it was like something out of a ghost story—Song Qingre catching some demon.

"Yeah... so what if it's me?" Fu Sang snorted. "Song Qingre, how are you going to tell them? Say... I'm the culprit—I'm the mastermind? Don't forget, you set me up the same way. It's tit for tat. I did make Qiang Wei the scapegoat. Who told her to like Su Xingjie? Women liking women... disgusting. Especially someone like Qiang Wei—if Su Xingjie dropped a piece of paper, she'd pick it up... sometimes even sniff it. Truly disgusting."

"And she even told me... she sent me messages, sharing every day what she got from Su Xingjie. She said, just thinking about it made her go into heat."

Song Qingre only gave a soft laugh.

That laugh made Fu Sang's whole body crawl.

Song Qingre said, "Look behind me."

This time Fu Sang didn't look. But Song Qingre kept smiling. Fu Sang couldn't help it. She lifted her head and looked forward. She was facing the door, so she saw the person there at once. "...Xingjie?"

Su Xingjie stood at the gap in the door, watching.

Song Qingre let go of her collar, rubbing her fingers with a look of disgust. "You fell for it again."

The room fell silent. The sound of Fu Sang collapsing to the floor was clear. "Xingjie..."

Su Xingjie closed her eyes. "So it really was you." She didn't go in to deal with Fu Sang. Instead, she turned and left.

It seemed she'd already guessed, and the outcome no longer mattered.

Fu Sang's face went pale. She? What did she mean, she?

She didn't know if it was surprise or fear. She wanted to chase after her, but Song Qingre shut the door.

Thud. Two worlds.

Song Qingre had used violence—the cruelest method—to put an end to the whole affair. What had been unclear now surfaced, crystal clear.

Qiang Wei's hesitation to speak, her silence under Fu Sang's threats, why Fu Sang had dared to flaunt her innocence and cry foul—all of it found its resolution.

Song Qingre came out. She asked Yan Qingqiu, "Do you have any tissues? My fingers got a bit dirty."

"Mm, I do." Yan Qingqiu patted her pockets—nothing. She asked, "Did you suspect her from the start?"

"No. I just trusted Qiuqiu's instincts."

"Oh." Yan Qingqiu said, "What if my instincts..."

"No what-ifs. If Qiuqiu says it's so, then it's so," Song Qingre said. "I'll never doubt Qiuqiu."

Yan Qingqiu felt warm inside. But then she remembered what she'd glimpsed—when Fu Sang sat down, there'd been a knife on the floor... Wasn't Song Qingre afraid of death?

She couldn't help but imagine the worst—what if Fu Sang had stabbed her?

She looked again. There was a diagonal slash across the belly of Song Qingre's down jacket, though she walked steadily, making it hard to notice the tear.

Yan Qingqiu said, "That room just now was so weird. Everything felt soft."

Song Qingre paused mid-step, then smiled. "Probably Fu Sang's mental power. It didn't hurt you, did it?"

"Oh. No."

Song Qingre ruffled her head. "Good. It won't ever hurt you again."