Chapter 71

Fu Sang braced her hands on the table, her gaze pinned on Su Xingjie. The alpha's pheromones were overwhelming, almost invading her body. Su Xingjie had humiliated her, treated her like a dog.

Su Xingjie's expression flickered. She met Fu Sang's eyes, her tone hardening. "You only look like her. Qiu Bao is an omega. She wouldn't force me like this."

"No, she was an alpha at first."

"Alpha." Su Xingjie laughed softly, her eyes tilting up, the corners faintly swollen, her lashes heavy. She murmured the word. "Qiu Bao... at the very beginning... she should have been a beta, right?"

Fu Sang stared at her, shocked. "You knew?"

Su Xingjie had believed Yan Qingqiu was an alpha so firmly that even without sensing her pheromones, her trust never wavered. No matter how the world doubted, she had held on unshakably.

Now, what did this alpha identity matter? What was the point?

Su Xingjie said, "I know. But Qiu Bao said she was an alpha, so she was an alpha. She said she was so alpha that her pheromones couldn't be smelled, so she was that alpha." She looked at Fu Sang, who seemed lost. Su Xingjie believed a little more—they merely looked alike; they couldn't be Qiu Bao.

Their differentiation usually happened in high school, around sixteen or seventeen. The later the differentiation, the higher the grade. She had differentiated at seventeen, Song Qingre at eighteen. Yan Qingqiu had been slow to differentiate, and she desperately wanted to be an alpha. Her ideal was to be the strongest alpha.

Her entire seventeenth year was spent worrying. A mere cold would send her into excitement, thinking she was about to differentiate, but it never happened.

At eighteen, she began to feel dizzy, sleepy, and headaches started. At first, Qiu Bao was thrilled, believing she was finally differentiating. But as the headaches worsened, she grew more and more miserable and uncomfortable.

Then one day, Qiu Bao said, "I've already differentiated into an alpha. From now on, you're my little omega. If any alpha dares to release their pheromones at you, I'll punch them one by one and cripple them."

"Really? You differentiated? How come I can't smell anything?"

"I'm too alpha. So alpha you can't smell it."

"...Oh."

"You don't believe me?"

Su Xingjie quickly said, "I believe you. Of course I believe you." Qiu Bao becoming an alpha was to protect her.

"I knew you'd believe me." Yan Qingqiu was delighted. Soon after, she secretly brought a differentiation report and submitted it to the school.

She said, "This is our secret. Remember, I'll always protect you. Got it?"

At the time, she hadn't understood what it meant. Now, thinking back, was Qiu Bao hinting that if she failed to protect her later, it meant she was gone?

Fu Sang couldn't control her state—whether it was anger or pain—she leaned forward, pressing down, gripping the chair tightly.

Fu Sang's mental strength was in turmoil. She desperately wanted to bite Su Xingjie to vent her emotions. She wanted to question Su Xingjie, but Su Xingjie clearly didn't care about her.

Fu Sang wanted to talk things through, to reminisce, but she saw only coldness in Su Xingjie's eyes. Her heart began to ache.

Su Xingjie said, "If you were her. You used her body to live, yet instead of thanking her, you hurt Song Qingre, hurt Uncle... then you..." Her face filled with anger. "What right do you think you have... to be smug?"

Fu Sang pressed her lips together, unable to defend herself. After a long pause, she squeezed out, "Aren't you afraid she's fake?"

Fu Sang could see Su Xingjie waver. She leaned in, staring at her, but received a sharp slap. The sound was crisp, Fu Sang's face turned to the side. Su Xingjie hadn't even reacted herself, but she didn't regret it. She rubbed her fingers and said, "I don't know if she's fake. But the moment you said that, I knew you were."

"I'll make you spit out every resource you've taken."

Su Xingjie stood up. Fu Sang didn't pick up the paper; Su Xingjie stepped right on it. The last chance she'd given, Fu Sang hadn't bothered to cherish.

Fu Sang grabbed her arm. Su Xingjie told her to let go. Fu Sang said, "I'm saving you. Song Qingre is a psycho. She'll hurt you. I'm doing this for your own good..."

Su Xingjie tilted her head slightly, then turned back. She said, "Before our senior year, she was always good, gentle, everyone's goddess... in my heart, she was a particularly wonderful older sister. She changed after senior year."

Fu Sang didn't reveal who she was, but she understood the implication—all the changes happened after she arrived.

Su Xingjie walked out. Fu Sang stood straight, biting her lip, watching Su Xingjie walk farther and farther away.

Ever since they'd known each other, Su Xingjie had always run toward her, never once walking away with her back to her.

Su Xingjie came out and stood on the steps. Her sunglasses were smudged with fingerprints. She stared at them and said, "Fu Sang is inside. Her lawyer will still discuss a settlement with you."

Yan Qingqiu handed her a tissue.

Su Xingjie clutched the tissue, gazing at Yan Qingqiu absentmindedly, as if she wanted to ask something.

"Before, there was no way to explain why you changed so much. Uncle always said you were possessed by evil spirits. Now you've changed a little too, but everyone likes this change; everyone is happy." Su Xingjie spoke softly.

Yan Qingqiu understood somewhat—Su Xingjie had realized she'd changed because she didn't remember the stabbing incident; she'd revealed herself. But Su Xingjie didn't dislike her.

"I'll just treat it as..." as if you've come back.

Su Xingjie put on her sunglasses, thinking she had herself under control, but Yan Qingqiu could tell she was crying.

"Miss Yan" must have been her very good friend. She was her salvation, the source of her starlight.

Su Xingjie didn't hide anything; she recounted what had happened inside. "Fu Sang might have gotten plastic surgery, might want to..." replace Qiu Bao, might even... She glanced at Yan Qingqiu beside her, whose anxious expression was unmistakable. She couldn't hide her panic; it was clear she was scared.

Song Qingre said, "Might want to replace Qiuqiu? Fu Sang is 1.8 meters, or something? Qiuqiu is 1.7, right?"

"Now 1.75," Yan Qingqiu said softly. She'd grown another five centimeters in secondary development, and she'd always hoped to reach 1.78, the golden height for models.

It was terrifying to think about now. If she had grown that tall, the same height as Fu Sang, Fu Sang could easily replace her.

Very terrifying.

Yan Qingqiu licked her lips.

Su Xingjie said, "She can't be Qiu Bao."

Yan Qingqiu didn't respond.

"Qiu Bao was warm. She'd worry about me, feel for me. She wouldn't force me to do things I didn't like. If she knew I was upset, she'd stop talking about it." Su Xingjie said. "I've had Fu Sang with me all this time; all she does is cause me trouble, endless trouble. How is she Qiu Bao?"

Yan Qingqiu knew she wanted to hear a response, but the more Su Xingjie said that, the less she dared to respond. She couldn't be sure if she was that person.

Song Qingre said, "Yes, Qiuqiu is Qiuqiu."

She wrapped her arm around Yan Qingqiu's shoulder, squeezing it. "If she weren't Qiuqiu, why would she call you 'Xing Xing' so happily? Who else could fold such cute rabbits and stars?"

Su Xingjie didn't know whether to believe Yan Qingqiu, but she felt she should believe Song Qingre.

She looked at Song Qingre, who had a smile on her lips, so confident, settling Su Xingjie's wavering heart. The sunglasses cast a dark tint over everything, as if the world had been reduced to black.

Su Xingjie stepped forward, her vision blurring.

The words that followed, she wasn't embarrassed to say—she was afraid that saying them would invite the same question Fu Sang had posed: Are you sure the person now is the person from before? Can you be certain?

She refused to let her conviction waver.

Yan Qingqiu leaned against the car, head bowed. Song Qingre said gently, "It's fine, we'll just ask for compensation."

Yan Qingqiu didn't know what to do. She always listened to Song Qingre. She wanted to go inside with her to negotiate, yet she also wanted to stay with Su Xingjie.

Su Xingjie said, "You go in. I'll head back soon. I'm actually hungry; those snacks you sent me, I really liked them."

Yan Qingqiu knew she wanted to be alone, so she nodded.

She walked up the steps, looked back to see Su Xingjie get into the car. Yan Qingqiu said, "It's dark. Take off your sunglasses. Be careful."

Su Xingjie felt both soft and wronged, emotions surging again. She comforted the anxious Yan Qingqiu, saying, "Qiu Bao, don't worry. She's not the same kind of person as you."

And... she can't replace you either.

She took off her sunglasses and drove away. She needed time to process this.

Song Qingre and Yan Qingqiu entered the mediation room together. Fu Sang sat with her long legs crossed, her gaze falling on them, eyes mocking Song Qingre. She deliberately asked, "Does the wound still hurt?"

"Occasionally, since I'm still alive," Song Qingre said, flipping through the documents Fu Sang's lawyer had provided. The mediator sat in the center.

"So it's settled, full payment, right?" Song Qingre asked.

"That car of mine is quite expensive. If you're willing to pay compensation, I'll sign the mediation agreement. But if you're not willing to settle, I'll still have you put away for attempted murder." Song Qingre said softly. "Life inside might not be pleasant. I'll bribe everyone in there to torment you for their own amusement. I'll pay them high wages every day, and whoever torments you most interestingly gets a bonus."

Fu Sang gritted her teeth.

The mediator tapped the table. "Please mind the occasion."

"Fine." Song Qingre smiled. "Let's continue with the car. That's a vintage car; I haven't had it appraised, but it's one of a kind in the world."

Fu Sang frowned. "Vintage? What are you talking about? That car of yours..."

Song Qingre said, "That car isn't too expensive, about close to 100 million. Add in various damages, for me and Qiuqiu together, we'll say 150 million."

Even if Fu Sang was rich, that was an enormous expense. She couldn't possibly have that much cash on hand.

Fu Sang bit her lip. "You're extorting me?"

"Both lawyers are here. Paying up was your own suggestion," Song Qingre said. "Hmm... let's put it this way: by market value, for every day you delay, the car's value goes up a bit. You can take your time paying. I'm not in a hurry. Let's take it slow. There's plenty of time."

She smiled. "I'll be waiting for you."

Song Qingre smiled at her.

Without further fuss, she said, "I'll send you the documents."

She took Yan Qingqiu's hand and left the mediation room. Fu Sang called out again, "Yan Qingqiu, how's your health?"

Yan Qingqiu's fingers tightened slightly—this was a hint about the system inside her.

She turned to look at Fu Sang. "Pretty good. Xing Xing said I'm better than you. I've never made her sad, and I'm her best friend."

Fu Sang's expression changed. She folded her fingers together. Yan Qingqiu added, "She also said you're worse than a dog in her eyes."

Fu Sang pushed herself up, but her lawyer pulled her back down.

The lawyer told her to look over the documents carefully—should she sign at this price, or take it to court?

Her online reputation was already terrible.

But was 150 million too much?

The lawyer reminded her, "You told the mediator that amount yourself. Of course, if you think it's too high, I can negotiate further. It's just a matter of face."

At this point, Fu Sang realized she'd been too arrogant. She'd truly believed Su Xingjie would stand by her.

Had Su Xingjie been bewitched?

She'd have to talk to her again.

···

After returning, Su Xingjie hadn't contacted Yan Qingqiu. She stayed home, not coming out, always wanting to drink.

Yan Qingqiu didn't dare invite her out either. Knowing she wouldn't eat on time, she had food delivered by courier when something good was made at home.

They stayed silent for a few days.

One evening, Su Xingjie received a message: Song Qingre wanted to meet and talk.

Su Xingjie looked at the message, unsure how to reply. She slumped over the table, set down her glass, and hurried to rinse her mouth.

Song Qingre said, "You wait downstairs. I'll drive over to pick you up."

Su Xingjie's refusal was useless—Song Qingre was already on her way. She changed into a coat and went downstairs. Song Qingre hadn't arrived yet, so she sat on a bench in the complex, cold wind biting her legs.

When she got another message, she told the guard, and Song Qingre drove in. She got out of the car.

Su Xingjie stood up, exhaling, her breath forming puffs of white.

Song Qingre stood by the car door, getting straight to the point. "You've already figured it out, haven't you?"

Su Xingjie looked at her and hummed in agreement.

Fu Sang had hinted so much that day; she couldn't have missed it.

If Fu Sang was her good friend—if someone had taken over Fu Sang's body—then couldn't that previous person have taken over her good friend's body too?

Initially, when Yan Fu said Yan Qingqiu was possessed, she'd believed it. She'd wanted to bring it up with her best friend, but seeing how irritable and angry she was, ready to snap at anyone who mentioned it, she found herself cowering, constantly retreating.

When she'd talked with Fu Sang, Su Xingjie hadn't expected to respond that way. Fu Sang thought revealing her identity would make Su Xingjie unconditionally take her side. But the more Fu Sang revealed, the more it confirmed Su Xingjie's earlier suspicion—her Qiu Bao was gone, her body taken over.

The one who'd taken over her body was likely Fu Sang.

Her best friend had "changed," a change from within the soul itself. She couldn't quite articulate how, nor did she understand, and she'd never dared to think in that direction.

Because she was afraid to think it.

If she acknowledged the truth, she'd have to accept that her best friend was gone. Where would she even look for her, and how?

Su Xingjie could only use a clumsy method: facing a faded soul, guarding a body that had protected her many times.

Of course, there was another fact before her now.

Was the "Qiu Bao" before her the "Qiu Bao" she'd once been closest to?

Su Xingjie thought she'd be distressed and miserable, but after a brief consideration, she had her answer—her heart gave it to her directly.

This Qiu Bao had never hurt her, and had defended her every time.

Even if she wasn't her, wasn't the one from before, she was still willing to treat her as a friend, and willing to stand by her side when Fu Sang bullied her.

She hoped even more.

That her Qiu Bao was her Qiu Bao.

Su Xingjie stayed silent.

Song Qingre asked, "Why did you originally support Fu Sang?"

"At the time, Qiang Wei had just stepped down. I needed to pick a few models from the company as the face. Qiang Wei recommended Fu Sang to me. At that time, I preferred Alice. Fu Sang's sales ability was terrible." Su Xingjie said. "I dumped a lot of resources on her, mostly for Qiang Wei's sake."

No wonder Fu Sang was so confident—she'd probably planned to lay low for a while, but Su Xingjie had shoved her straight to the top.

So she'd assumed Su Xingjie was firmly on her side.

"Were you telling the truth earlier about her plastic surgery?"

"Half true, half false. She did have some minor adjustments, but that's hardly a secret in her line of work. Some details need tweaking for perfection." Su Xingjie said.

Song Qingre nodded. "Good."

What was good?

The wind was cold; both were thinly dressed.

Su Xingjie blinked and said, "I have something to ask you."

"Hm?" Song Qingre looked at her.

"Back when Qiu Bao stabbed you... did you... did you know?" Su Xingjie breathed out a puff of frost. "I've been having dreams these past few days, reliving that day. It's become a nightmare."

Song Qingre said nothing.

Su Xingjie wasn't finished. "Did you follow her, monitor her, cling to her as she said?"

What expression was on Song Qingre's face—was she smiling or silent?

"I'll still treat her the same as before," Song Qingre said lightly. "I'll take revenge. I'll make her know what hell on earth is. I'll make her suffer."

"She was right. I'm a psycho."

Song Qingre said, "Are you scared?"

Su Xingjie couldn't find any trace of the old her. That gentle older sister who would forge parents' signatures for them while scolding them to behave—now there was no sign of her at all.

Was it too dark? But there were streetlights.

Under the streetlight, Song Qingre stood quietly with her hands in her pockets. "I know you're confused right now."

Su Xingjie didn't speak, letting the wind tousle her hair.

Song Qingre said, "If you don't know what to believe, then believe in me, like when you were kids. Whenever you weren't sure about something, you'd come running to me."

Su Xingjie let out a soft breath. "It feels like you know everything."

Song Qingre didn't deny it; she hummed softly.

"Because I've practiced more than 9,000 times," Song Qingre said. "At first I was scared too, then gradually I calmed down and got used to it. But I found that there's one thing I can never get used to."

"More than 9,000 times? What is it?"

"The fact that there's no Qiuqiu. That will always hurt."

Su Xingjie didn't fully understand, but she agreed with the sentiment.

Song Qingre pressed a finger to her own chest. Su Xingjie noticed the heart-rate watch on her wrist. Song Qingre's heartbeat was normal, steady, not erratic.

It was the first time she'd seen her wear it. She remembered Song Qingre had been in good health.

"The first time my heart pounded hard. The second time it stayed calm. The third, fourth... all the way to the 9,000th, I found my heart always in the normal range. Too calm. Calm in a way that doesn't seem human."

"And then I knew I'd changed."

She'd put on the watch to remind herself to hold back, to always keep a little restraint.

To make herself look normal, to give herself time to calm down, to remind herself to keep her surprise and her heartbeat.

She didn't want to become so emotionless she'd lose judgment.

What if she accidentally hurt Qiuqiu?

Even if she'd grown numb, she still had to save her heartbeat for Qiuqiu.

Su Xingjie's days just drifted by, each one flowing into the next. Maybe each day was dull, but there was a real difference between today and tomorrow.

"Qiuqiu has many hardships and things she couldn't say." Song Qingre reminded her. "Do you remember in high school, she wanted to say a lot, but talking gave her headaches, and she'd faint?"

Su Xingjie nodded. "I remember. At first, she was excited, thinking she'd finally differentiate, but later she'd cry secretly."

Song Qingre's voice turned hoarse. "She had a hard time."

"Once, she told me a story."

"She said she'd been to a place with no father, no friends. She caught a cold and had to tough it out lying down. Later, she said she lived in an orphanage and was ostracized because of her blonde hair."

Su Xingjie's heart ached.

"All this time, I've never targeted you, thinking that one day she might come back and there'd still be a star for her. Her Song Xiaore might have changed, but the star still hangs in the sky, her guiding star still shining for her."

"Stop." Su Xingjie cut her off, clutching her chest and sinking down slowly. It hurt. The air was cold, pressing on her chest, aching deeply.

"Honestly, all along, I couldn't accept the fact that she was gone, just because I couldn't believe it."

Su Xingjie said, "Because I can't believe that the one who pulled me out of the abyss... was... was swallowed by endless darkness."

Song Qingre's hands were in her coat pockets, the streetlight falling on her. Her tone softened. "You did well."

"If you hadn't been unconditionally good to her, she wouldn't have come to light, and I wouldn't have pulled her back."

She didn't use a name, but Su Xingjie understood.

Song Qingre said, "I'm telling you this today because she's sad at home. I don't want her to come back and still be sad. You can make your own choice—pretend you don't know anything, keep being her star, and I won't blame you. Or you can cooperate with me. Back then..."

She didn't want to remember, but she had to say it. "Back then, I couldn't pull her out of the darkness. This time, the two of us, each pulling one hand, we'll manage to pull her out."

Su Xingjie looked up at her, watching Song Qingre's back as her shadow stretched long in the light. No wonder Song Qingre had taken that knife. She'd been trying to find Qiu Bao, trying again and again, even if it left her riddled with holes.

A long, long time ago.

Yan Qingqiu sat on the steps, munching on cookies, and said to her, "I'm definitely going to marry Song Xiaore in this life. Because when I'm with her, I don't have to say I like her to feel that she likes me. She's just shy and never says it. It's fine for me to be the proactive one."

Song Qingre not only liked her, but loved her even when scarred.

At night, a fine drizzle fell, blanketing the city. Song Qingre drove, watching the misty, rainy night.

Su Xingjie stood in the rain, silent in the winter night. She recalled... one time when it was raining, Yan Qingqiu had come to pick her up at the hotel, wearing a delivery uniform, riding an electric bike to whisk her away.

The drizzle wasn't that cold. Su Xingjie sat behind her, pinching Yan Qingqiu's waist, curious when Qiu Bao had learned to ride an electric bike.

Later, Yan Qingqiu would use her phone card points to redeem umbrellas and toothpaste. Seeing her points so high, she called her a rich woman, a rich lady.

Su Xingjie remembered things from before. Yan Qingqiu spent ten yuan a week on herself, which was plenty. The two of them would be frugal, spending one yuan a day each, buying instant noodles to share. Su Xingjie was too embarrassed to eat, so Yan Qingqiu would get upset, insisting on splitting it even if money was tight, saying good friends share.

Su Xingjie couldn't bear to spend her money, so she'd do her homework for her. That went on for about half a year until Song Qingre found out. Song Qingre scolded Yan Qingqiu for being disobedient, paying someone to do homework. Su Xingjie admitted it was her own choice, and Song Qingre scolded her too, saying Yan Qingqiu's grades were terrible; she should be tutoring her, not enabling her. Then she gave them five yuan to buy ice cream.

Later, Yan Qingqiu's allowance increased to a hundred a week. They were used to being thrifty, spending little, saving dozens each week. On her birthday, Yan Qingqiu secretly took her on a plane to a neighboring province to buy snacks, then flew back secretly, no one the wiser.

Even now, it was their little secret.

Yan Qingqiu would never tell anyone that Su Xingjie spent her money. Everyone assumed they shared their funds, pooling money together. No one would mock her or say she was mooching off Yan Qingqiu.

If it had always been Qiu Bao, what would she have become after high school?

Song Qingre thought about this as she drove back. She gripped the wheel, pulling into the courtyard. The headlights swept forward, catching Yan Qingqiu, who hurried over. Song Qingre got out of the car, and Yan Qingqiu held an umbrella over her head, asking, "Did you go see Xing Xing? What did she say?"

Before Song Qingre could answer, Yan Qingqiu wrapped her arms around her waist. "Thank you."

The umbrella tilted, rain falling on them. Song Qingre caught her breath, her lips parting to taste the cold wind.

She bit her lower lip, eyes closed, savoring this hard-won tenderness.

Yan Qingqiu hadn't dared to say it, but she couldn't hold back. "I was afraid if I didn't say it, you wouldn't know."

Song Qingre said, "Qiuqiu, you're especially bold every time you tease me. You always catch me off guard."

Yan Qingqiu couldn't hold it in today.

Song Qingre felt her warmth. "I'm also grateful to 25-year-old Qiuqiu."

Yan Qingqiu's restless heart settled at that moment.

Song Qingre's hand rested on her waist. "Seeing Fu Sang, I panicked for a second."

But the moment you held me, my heart settled.

"And thank you, for letting me see a glimmer of light in the darkness."

···

Fu Sang was eventually released on bail. When she came back, the lawyer said they'd look into the car's value.

Fu Sang got out of the car, grunted, and was about to head inside when her gaze stopped. Parked right next to her spot was a car identical to the one in the photo—same dent in the trunk. She stepped back. The lawyer was puzzled too, quickly getting out to look.

She was momentarily dazed. The lawyer said, "Is this Song Qingre's car? Why is it parked here? Is she following you?"

Fu Sang frowned, stepping forward to kick it, but the lawyer held her back, pulling out his phone to take pictures, reminding her to keep her temper.

Fu Sang's long-dormant memories surged. She bit her lip, averted her gaze, and walked upstairs. She lived in an apartment ER had given her earlier; the deed had been transferred directly to her.

She went up, unlocked the door, and as she pulled out the key, she saw a pencil sketch taped to the opposite door. It was her face, but the person held a knife aimed at her own stomach, as if about to commit seppuku.

Fu Sang tore the paper off, ripping it to shreds.

She thought of Song Qingre. She slammed the door open, then shut it hard, and asked her lawyer if she could move elsewhere.

The lawyer answered no. Yan Qingqiu was an SSS-class omega; under the Protection Act, if she was released on bail, she had to stay at her original address, and she had to report her whereabouts daily.

"So my 24-hour schedule is transparent."

"Yes."

Song Qingre spent every day with Yan Qingqiu; how would she have time to follow her? She thought that, but she couldn't help it—she immediately searched the whole house for cameras.

She thought of Song Qingre's words: "You know, inside or outside doesn't matter, because it's all hell. We artists like to describe the world in such melodramatic terms."

Song Qingre looked harmless and gentle, but in reality, in reality...

She'd just sat down when the doorbell rang. She got up to open it, but no one was there. The doorbell rang several more times. Fear crept in. She checked the monitor and saw someone dressed like Song Qingre outside, knocking repeatedly, wearing sunglasses and a mask. When she was about to open the door, the person pulled out a knife and stabbed the camera directly.

Fu Sang's hand, reaching for the door, froze. She heard frantic noises outside, as if someone was hacking wildly with a knife...

"That knife wound... maybe I'll return it at the right time."

That's what Song Qingre had said back then.

Fu Sang's plan had been to become everyone's nightmare. But where had things gone wrong?

She closed her eyes, trying to sort through her thoughts, but she kept imagining Song Qingre clinging to her.

At night, Song Qingre followed her. Wherever she went, she'd see Song Qingre. Once, she woke up at home to find Song Qingre sitting at the edge of her bed, running a knife along her cheek.

She screamed, "How did you get in?"

Song Qingre said gently, "I have a key to your place."

She immediately changed all the locks in the house.

But when she woke up in the evening, Song Qingre was still there. Song Qingre said again, "Because I'm watching you. I know where you go. I want to find a way to get my treasure back."

Psycho. Lunatic.

She kept cursing Song Qingre, but Song Qingre said, "What do you think would happen if I told everyone you've taken over Qiuqiu's body?"

Fu Sang knew that if Song Qingre wanted, she could kill her anytime. Once, Song Qingre had tied her up and asked, "Mind if I cut open your brain?"

She went to Yan Fu, but Yan Fu said she was delusional.

The noise outside continued, creaking, as if a knife were slicing her body.

Fu Sang grabbed her phone to call the property manager. The manager came up, and the person left, but as soon as they left, the scratching sound resumed, over and over, keeping her up all night. Finally, words were scratched on the door: "A door for a door."

In the morning, Fu Sang saw the words and thought: childish.

She closed the door and stepped out, finding a paper on the ground.

【"I'll come again tomorrow. Every day."】

Fu Sang gripped her fingers tightly. She was about to call the police when her phone rang.

"Ms. Fu Sang, please come to the office. Several endorsements we discussed are being canceled. The models are causing a stir. The Fu family called too. Most importantly, someone leaked that we were poached by the Fu family. Netizens are calling us 'a match made in hell,' and Su Xingjie even liked that post."

Fu Sang bit her lip. She looked down at the paper, photographed it, and stomped on it hard.

She had to go to the company, but first she had to report to the police station. When she arrived, her assistant came over and said, "Ms. Fu Sang, there's someone to see you inside."

"Who?"

"Song Qingre."

Fu Sang paused mid-step.

Song Qingre sat in the first-floor lobby, holding a file. "I'm here to deliver the vintage car documents."

Fu Sang went to the upstairs office, and Song Qingre followed unhurriedly, her footsteps light, one after another behind Fu Sang.

Fu Sang made several calls to partners, but no one answered.

She called Fu Ye, but his phone was off.

"Want to know why you can't reach him?" Song Qingre stepped into the elevator.

Fu Sang didn't answer.

"Because Fu Ye's secretary told Fu Zhenguo that when Fu Ye was CEO, he'd contacted business partners privately more than once, trying to push his father off the chairman's seat. Now Fu Ye keeps contacting the outside world, trying to get his old position back. His father is wary of him too, so he cut off his phone."

Fu Sang frowned. "How do you know all this?"

Song Qingre said, "Isn't it easy for me to find these things out? You didn't know that? Then how dare you show your face? Want me to tell you more?"

Fu Sang hadn't shown her face on her own—she'd been pushed, choked into the open. She pressed her lips together. That old feeling was back. Song Qingre stared at her and said, "I know both of Fu Zhenguo's illegitimate children..."

Soon, Fu Sang's phone rang. She answered immediately.

The elevator opened. She entered her office, and Song Qingre was stopped at the door. Fu Sang closed the door, talking inside.

It was the Fu family's lawyer. "Ms. Fu Sang, our chairman previously invested in your company. Now we intend to reclaim those funds, because you haven't produced any results or secured any resources. We suspect fraud. We hope you can return the money to our company account within a week. If you don't, or we can't reach you, we'll file a lawsuit against you for fraud."

"What are you talking about? Setting up a company takes time, and I've—"

The lawyer cut her off. "It's been over half a month. Your models have been idle, and you've been entangled with ER the whole time, showing no sign of building the company. We've investigated thoroughly. Please don't lie."

They didn't even give her time to explain before hanging up. The Fu family was eager to get their money back.

Fu Sang made more calls; all went unanswered. A knock on the office door—Song Qingre claimed her time was precious, and if Fu Sang didn't accept the documents, she wouldn't agree to a settlement and would take legal action.

Fu Sang came out to take the documents, furious.

"Oh, right, one more thing..." Song Qingre paused, eyes narrowing, long lashes curling up.

She didn't finish in one breath, but slowly, as if recalling. Fu Sang's heart rose. She couldn't guess what else Song Qingre had up her sleeve, or what scheme she was hatching. She was truly inescapable.

Fu Sang gripped her phone tightly, clutching the golden key fob.

Her mind raced—what else could Song Qingre do?

Song Qingre didn't continue. She stood up and said, "Forget it, that's enough for today. I see you have a lot to handle. I won't disturb you."

But she didn't really leave; she walked away glancing back.

Words slipped out one by one, never completing a thought.

Song Qingre said slowly, "My treasure went to another world for a few years, had a hard time, did many jobs, did many things."

Fu Sang steadied her emotions, not letting her see through her.

She managed to calm herself.

She had her own path to walk. This wasn't over. She still had a trump card.

She was Yan Fu's daughter.

A secretary ran over. Fu Sang pressed a finger to her lips, signaling silence. The secretary left. Fu Sang leaned against the front desk and said, "Song Qingre, I stabbed you once; I'll stab you to death now, and make it worse than before."

Song Qingre stopped, turned, and smiled. "You think... I let you stab me back then by accident? That I couldn't bring myself to do it, so I let you?"

Fu Sang didn't understand.

Recalling that moment, what had Song Qingre planned?

She couldn't guess Song Qingre's intentions. She'd switched bodies—killing her would be illegal, unless Song Qingre wanted prison.

If I hadn't let you go, then when my treasure comes back, how would I protect her? How could I drag out the thing that tormented her?

The wait was long, lonely.

That time.

Song Qingre was a madwoman. Once she bit down, she wouldn't let go. She clung to her, stuck to her, watched her, kept asking, "Where is my treasure?"

Like a vengeful ghost. "Can you give her back to me, please?"

She said she wouldn't mind cutting open her body to see where her treasure had been hidden—in the brain, the heart, or some other organ. If she couldn't find it... she'd cut open each part, searching until she did. Sorry, she couldn't wait any longer.

So how could she let go so easily? She'd been waiting for this day all along.

"If you don't have that thing in your head... then dying here would be a true death, wouldn't it?" Song Qingre asked.