Chapter 7

Maybe she was just scaring herself. Yan Qingqiu rolled up the pamphlet, ready to toss it. But then she thought, what if she needed it later. She agonized for a while longer until the driver walked over and said softly, "Brother Chen just called, asking if you'd like to come back for dinner. If so, you can ride with Miss Song."

Oh, right, she was supposed to sleep with Song Qingre tonight!

Standing outside was too hot. The summer sun blazed as if it might split the sky; another minute in it and she'd lose a layer of skin. She ducked into the car.

The driver asked, "Miss, are you feeling all right?"

Fine, just on the verge of having a mental breakdown.

Yan Qingqiu shoved the pamphlet into her bag. "Home."

Yan Qingqiu pulled out her phone to search for info on A-turning-O—no, B-turning-O. No wonder the doctor didn't prescribe her anything. Here's what the internet said:

【There's still hope for A-to-O; a few meds can block it. But B-to-O is hopeless. Medically, it's called secondary development. In layman's terms, it means developing late. I heard such Omegas are super rare, maybe even SSS-rank ≈】

【From what I remember, the last SSS-rank Omega was a songstress beauty from the last century, but later it was proven that SSS was just a gimmick. She was actually S-rank.】

【SSS + secondary development, that's a crazy combo. What about the heat period then?】

The doctor had fooled her, saying it was super common!

Yan Qingqiu recalled doing a quiz earlier: she was supposed to differentiate into an SSS-rank, super-rare Omega in front of her white moonlight.

Differentiate in front of Song Qingre?

She was about to ask the System when a trending topic caught her eye.

#Fu Ye's Dog Head Smashed by Ex-Girlfriend#

Clicking in, she saw Fu Ye with his neck twisted, the look on his face priceless. Yan Qingqiu couldn't help but snort, laughing out loud in the back seat.

Fu Ye, neck askew, face purple with rage, didn't know what to do. He clenched his fists and slammed them hard on the table—pure, helpless fury.

The comments were even funnier.

【I always thought I could handle anything a handsome guy did—good or bad, scumbag or loyal—until I saw Fu Ye's twisted neck. I'm so turned off.】

【Can't take it. For the most cringe-worthy image of the year, Fu Ye's twisted neck.】

【Aaaaah, washing my eyes.】

Yan Qingqiu enjoyed the show. Meanwhile, her phone buzzed nonstop with messages from people asking if the trending topic was real.

Afraid of trouble, she didn't reply but made a point to note the contact pinned at the top—most likely her best friend.

The car arrived, and she was still looking at her phone when the Butler came to open her door. He bowed slightly and said, "The master called today."

"Huh?" Yan Qingqiu looked up from her phone. "Who?"

"The master, your father. He called half an hour ago." The Butler inclined his head. Yan Qingqiu lifted her skirt and took his hand to step out. For some reason, she felt a wave of panic. Was it because she'd grown up in an orphanage without parental love, suddenly gaining a father? Or was she afraid of being exposed? Or something else entirely—too complex to sort out.

"What did he say?"

"It's about the stuff online. Fu Ye seems to have called the master to say you hit him."

"He actually tattled." Yan Qingqiu frowned in annoyance. She'd been in the sun too long, and sweat beaded on her nose.

The Butler added, "Yeah, really unexpected. No gentlemanly manners at all. What's a little hitting between you two? It's his fault for wavering between you and Miss Song."

That hit the spot. Yan Qingqiu glanced at him, saying, "Did you tell my dad that?" It felt weird to say the word "dad," but she could even picture a man's face.

"I did, and I phrased it sharply. But it seems the incident has blown up and affected business, so the master might call you again." said the Butler.

The Yan family ran a cosmetics business, a highly competitive industry. They were an established brand, but couldn't keep up with the new influencer brands. Fu Ye's family had a much bigger conglomerate—they dominated everything. He'd invested in her father's project, and if he pulled out, it would hit the Yan family hard.

Yan Qingqiu hummed in acknowledgment. She sat on the living room sofa. A few roses stood in a vase on the nearby coffee table. The Butler had handled things to her liking. She thought for a moment, then asked, "What do you think my dad will say?"

"Not sure. But hitting someone and forcing a kiss on Miss Song is indeed a bit much. By any measure, it seems you're in the wrong."

Yan Qingqiu gave a couple of snorts. "When is he coming back?"

"About a week or so."

Her father had gone abroad to negotiate a project and wouldn't be back anytime soon. "We'll deal with it then. Take it one day at a time..."

"But he did have me freeze your card," the Butler said.

Yan Qingqiu sat up straight, then slumped back down. She touched her smooth fingernails. "I've already spent it all."

"Huh?" The Butler was shocked. "That fast?"

"Told you a million doesn't go far. I bought a few accessories and clothes, and it was gone in no time."

"And the items?"

"I dumped them in Song Qingre's office. Ugh, stop asking, it's annoying." Yan Qingqiu got up from the sofa, clutching her phone, and headed upstairs. She thought about texting Song Qingre to transfer the million first.

She suspected Fu Ye had tipped off her father about her plan to keep Song Qingre, prompting him to freeze her card so she couldn't sponsor Song Qingre and disrupt her work. That man was despicable.

Yan Qingqiu paused mid-step and called down to the Butler, "Prepare a guest room for Song Qingre tonight. We're sleeping together... it'll be cramped."

She squeezed her bag. The cramped part was a lie. The real reason: she was turning Omega. If they both lost control, it'd be a problem.

Once in her room, Yan Qingqiu pulled out the two things from her bag. The sponsorship contract no longer mattered; the pamphlet did.

She read it over and over.

The more she read, the worse she felt.

She searched another thread: 【Can an Omega die from having the gland removed?】

Answer: Yes.

Yan Qingqiu's eyes reddened.

Wahhh.

··

At eight in the evening, the courtyard lights glowed dutifully. Tiny moths fluttered around the lamps. Yan Qingqiu had eaten dinner and lain down in bed. When she heard a car outside, she scrambled up to look. They'd agreed to have dinner together, but Song Qingre had stood her up, saying she had work.

Someone seemed to have driven Song Qingre home. She stared at the car, and when she saw the assistant she'd met earlier that day get out to open the door for Song Qingre, she immediately ducked back.

Song Qingre came upstairs quickly, her fingers poised to knock. Just then, the Butler came up and said, "The guest room is ready. Miss Song, you can stay in the next room tonight."

Song Qingre turned her head to look at him.

In a very soft voice, she said, "Qiuping, are you rejecting me again?"

"Miss Song..." The Butler's voice trailed off.

"Alright. It is inconvenient today, I suppose. I've had a bit to drink; she probably wouldn't like that." Song Qingre blinked, her eyes glistening. She agreed easily, asking, "Which room is it?"

The Butler pointed ahead, and Song Qingre turned to open the door.

Yan Qingqiu pressed her ear to the door and heard a somewhat unsteady footstep. She cracked the door open just a sliver and caught a faint smell of alcohol.

Even with the citrus scent trying to mask it, it was still unpleasant enough to make her frown.

She stuck a foot out, ready to go check, then hesitated and pulled it back. Just then, she spotted the Butler. He hadn't left; he was still standing in the hallway. Meeting her gaze, he gave a respectful nod.

No wonder he knew they'd been kissing since they were seventeen or eighteen.

He was like a ghost.

Yan Qingqiu retreated back into her room. Lying on the bed, she opened her chat with Song Qingre. The original "her" had also chatted with Song Qingre, but mostly telling her to stay away from Fu Ye, not to seduce him—bordering on cursing her out.

"Her": 【You better stay away from Fu Ye. We're engaged now. If you don't want to be a third party, don't meet him. And if you do, don't blame me for being nasty.】

"Her": 【I've seen plenty of green tea bitches like you. Keeping men on a leash is your skill, but don't make me turn against you so hard even your parents won't recognize you.】

Song Qingre hadn't replied with even a punctuation mark.

Scrolling up, there were more messages like that, all telling Song Qingre to respect herself and not "seek out" Fu Ye, trashing the female lead.

Yan Qingqiu propped her chin on her hand, took out the paper the Butler had written, and read it. It made her a little sad. She slipped out of her room. The Butler was still patrolling the living room with a lamp. She clapped her hands, and he came up with the lamp.

Yan Qingqiu said, "Go wake the head chef and have him make some rock sugar and pear soup for Miss Song. And if there's any other good hangover remedy, make that too, and send it to her."

The Butler agreed, and Yan Qingqiu added, "Don't say it's from me. Say it was leftover from the house. Got it?"

"There's really no need to lie like that," the Butler said. "Aside from you, who else would be nice to Miss Song?"

"Just—go!"

Yan Qingqiu went back to her room and shut the door.

She kept listening for sounds from next door. The Butler delivered the soup, but she didn't hear Song Qingre speak. Lying there listening, she drifted off without realizing it.

She slept fitfully, her body burning as if on fire. The heat spread from her neck down to her ankles, her whole body damp with sweat.

"Mm..."

She squirmed, kicking off the blanket.

Yan Qingqiu, burning up, had a dream. She seemed to walk into some strange room, hearing suppressed, soft gasps—more strained than her own moans.

Her feet drifted forward, the dream hazy, but the sounds kept drifting into her ears.

"Qiuping, don't come closer, be good."

"Silly, I'm not going to die. I'm just in rut."

"Okay, don't be scared. Even in rut, you can't sneak a kiss."

"Why are you crying?"

The woman on the bed... more accurately, a girl of seventeen or eighteen, wore a thin summer dress, her skin flushed a soft pink from the heat.

Yan Qingqiu was at a loss, but the other was far more mature, her tired, dry eyes always smiling, and her words always told her not to be sad.

She tumbled from the right side of the bed to the floor, her nightgown riding up to reveal pale legs and pink lace. The cool floor brought a moment of clarity, and her crescent-shaped eyes opened a fraction before closing again.

Yan Qingqiu touched her eyelashes, wet with tears.

She was still pretty sad.

That dream just now... it felt so real, as if it had actually happened.

Yan Qingqiu lay there a long time. Too hot to bear, she went to the bathroom and took a cold shower, then soaked in the cold water for twenty minutes. Coming out, she regretted it. Her body, cooled by the water, was now even hotter, and the whole room felt like it was on fire.

No solution. The doctor hadn't prescribed anything, saying as a Beta she couldn't use suppressants. If she really did turn Omega and used them, her body would have serious problems later on.

Yan Qingqiu pulled open the curtains and stepped onto the balcony to let the breeze cool her. Soon, something below caught her eye: someone standing under the plum tree in the courtyard.

She wore a black slip dress, leaning against the withered plum tree. Beside it, the rose bush was in full bloom, its green leaves and petals covering the entire wall. Brown branches strewn on the ground crept closer, almost touching the plum tree's withered roots.

In the darkness, if they dared to be bolder, they would entangle just like in Song Qingre's painting.

At dinner, Yan Qingqiu had asked the Butler, who said the plum tree in the yard hadn't bloomed in years, and "she" had always clamored to cut it down. The Butler had put it off due to other matters.

It was obvious when someone was hurting. Song Qingre stood there motionless, looking, by any measure, sad. At one point, Song Qingre seemed to sense someone watching and turned around. Yan Qingqiu instantly crouched down to hide.

Her heart was pounding wildly.

When she dared to stand up again, no one was there. The plum tree and rose bush were just as before. If only the rose bush tried a little harder, it might just touch the withered roots.

Her chest felt tight with sorrow.

All these years, was "I" really that awful to her?