Chapter 72

Song Qingre's car was parked right outside, and Yan Qingqiu sat inside waiting for her. She clutched her phone, the window rolled down a crack as she glanced out from time to time.

The weather had turned cold, and a chill hung in the air. She was bundled up, her golden hair bunched around her neck, making her face look especially small.

She rubbed her hands together; her fingers had gone stiff.

The game had always called Song Qingre the villain.

Yan Qingqiu thought that was terribly unfair.

In Song Qingre's eyes, wasn't the System just as twisted?

Even more so, even. It twistedly occupied other people's bodies, twistedly upended others' lives, twistedly assumed it knew everything, then slapped labels on everyone around—female lead, villain. How absurd.

The moment Song Qingre left, the System seized the opening and came online, already chattering away in her head for a while.

The System said, 【Your plot collection has now reached 98%. Congratulations, you've unlocked Miss Yan's whereabouts.】

Yan Qingqiu rolled the window down further, looking at the building before her. Now unobstructed, it read: Hibiscus.

Fu Sang, also known as the hibiscus flower.

Yan Qingqiu smiled and said, 【I'm using Miss Yan's body. Where is there still a real Miss Yan?】

【I really can't understand your thinking. I'm not clear on your plot.】

The System said, 【There's nothing wrong with our plot. Our story has the male and female leads in love, going through many trials, from misunderstanding to mutual tolerance, and finally knowing and keeping each other.】

Hearing that, Yan Qingqiu laughed. Wasn't that a joke?

She crossed her long legs and said, 【Alright, let me tell you a story. Do you want to hear it?】

The System was silent.

Yan Qingqiu said, "Once there was a game that took the world by storm. Its content was that the female lead liked the male lead, but because of the villain's obstruction, they were separated for years. The male lead had a white moonlight—a first love—who abandoned him for her own future. After that, the female lead had to outwit the villain to win back the rich, handsome male lead. After many trials, the male lead had his awakening and saw through the white moonlight's true face. But by then, the female lead didn't love him anymore. So the male lead chased and chased—the crematorium of chasing his wife—until he drank himself into the hospital. In the end, they achieved a happy ending. Oh, and one more thing: the content had to be steamy. When the male lead went into heat, the female lead had to offer herself up for him to mount, right?"

The System was somewhat startled, then said, 【So what if you've figured it out? I'll give you 1% plot progress. You're almost at the first stage's goal. Shall I give you the second stage's task?】

Yan Qingqiu pressed her lips together. These past few days she'd sorted through the plot thoroughly. She glanced at her phone and tapped into Su Xingjie's Moments. The System was holding back her 1% plot progress, clearly waiting for something—waiting for Fu Ye to recover, or waiting for Fu Sang to become Miss Yan? Fu Sang really knew how to reap the rewards without lifting a finger.

The System dared to pull this off, likely because it had kept a trump card after failing to handle Song Qingre—letting Yan Qingqiu finish the tasks, then having Fu Sang replace Miss Yan at the critical moment. That way they'd have a "Miss Yan" again, an obedient "Miss Yan."

A sly switch to achieve the ending they wanted.

And the real Miss Yan?

Yan Qingqiu thought, if she lost this round to Fu Sang, then she and the real Miss Yan would both be impostors.

She bit her lip, her fingers tightening on the screen. She had to hold back, not leak her state.

Yan Qingqiu didn't want to lose, and she especially didn't want the real Miss Yan to fade from everyone's memory. No wonder Song Qingre went mad. The System was just too bullying.

This game must have gone wrong from the start. The female lead never liked the male lead, and the villain didn't like him either. The two of them had known each other since childhood and fallen in love against their will, which changed the entire nature of the game. The System hated that they didn't follow the plot, so it kept causing trouble.

Transmigrators came one after another, yet the problem was never solved. The "female lead" could never win over the male lead, and every "female lead" was killed by the villain, because the villain steadfastly waited for her own female lead.

The System said, 【You don't have to work so hard. If you just complete the second stage's task and Miss Yan goes home, I can apply to send you back.】

Yan Qingqiu asked, 【And Song Qingre? What happens to her if I go back?】

The System said, 【A villain is bound to meet a villain's end.】

Yan Qingqiu said, 【So you really intend to pull a sly switch—after I finish the plot, you'll have Fu Sang replace Miss Yan's identity and live on? And kill Song Qingre? You really know how to kick someone to the curb after they've served their purpose.】

The System said, 【Knowing so much does you no good. You're always saying those who know too much die young, that people who know too much never end well.】

Yan Qingqiu wanted to argue back, but the System spoke first in a forceful tone: 【Are you really not afraid of the second stage coming?】

Yan Qingqiu didn't flinch, a small swell of pride in her chest. She said, 【Come on now. You've been holding back all this time because you're afraid of Song Qingre. Last time she helped me clear her stage. You worry that if you hand out the task early, she'll catch on and think of new ways to torment you. You can't handle that, can you?】

The System's killing intent rose. It couldn't out-argue her, so it decided to torment her.

The pain began to jab at her brain, but it vanished quickly. She turned her head and saw Song Qingre right outside her window.

When Song Qingre came out, Yan Qingqiu was sitting in the car, fiddling with her phone and scrolling through messages. The System was still rambling at her.

Su Xingjie still hadn't contacted her. Song Qingre didn't go to the driver's seat; she slid into the back and sat close to Yan Qingqiu.

Song Qingre gently stroked her head.

"What's wrong?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

Song Qingre stared at her head. Yan Qingqiu was puzzled and asked again, "What's wrong?"

Yan Qingqiu thought to herself, has the writing on my head become more visible? She looked around and saw no one else. She lifted her head and planted a kiss on Song Qingre's forehead. "Did Fu Sang get to you?"

Song Qingre let out a soft hiss and said, "I heard a loud thump."

"Did something fall?" Yan Qingqiu was confused.

"It's just... I heard my heart pounding."

Yan Qingqiu blushed at her words and looked down at her watch. She pointed at the dial and said, "The heart rate does go up a bit when you're smitten."

Song Qingre smiled faintly. She didn't feel like driving, so she simply called a chauffeur to take the wheel.

After Song Qingre left,

Fu Sang called several people, but either they didn't answer or said they weren't available. A few loose-lipped ones let something slip: it wasn't that they wouldn't cooperate, but that several big investors above them were pressuring them, and with ER spreading the word, they didn't dare move for now. If Fu Sang could deal with ER and the investors, they'd definitely be willing to cooperate.

But that was the problem—if Fu Sang had that kind of power, she wouldn't be calling people one by one.

Fu Sang clutched her phone. The secretary beside her opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. Just as she was about to say something, there was a loud bang—Fu Sang slammed her phone straight onto the floor.

She bit her lip and sat in the boss chair, which swayed slowly.

"They're so recklessly ignorant, deliberately provoking me."

The secretary lowered her head. She didn't know much else, but the models downstairs had been making a fuss. The secretary also wanted to know if they'd even get paid this month. If the models couldn't land endorsements, their meager base salaries wouldn't be enough to fill their stomachs.

The secretary said, "What do we do now? How do we appease those models?"

Fu Sang was silent. Ten minutes later, she said, "Don't bother with them. Let them make as much noise as they want."

Anyway, the company was on its last legs. Let them scream—if they all left one by one, that was even better. Then she wouldn't have to pay their salaries. Whether the company survived or not didn't matter. She didn't need to call the Fu family or partners either. She could just wash her hands of it and head back to the Yan family.

Fu Sang frowned and tore open what Song Qingre had brought over. Song Qingre had prepared quite thoroughly—a broken-down car actually worth that much.

She looked it up herself. The materials Song Qingre gave were indeed for an antique car, a limited release. Only five existed worldwide, three already scrapped, and one privately collected.

And by sheer coincidence, Song Qingre had driven that very car that day.

Song Qingre was asking for death.

·

Song Qingre drove Yan Qingqiu around the city a few times before heading home. Both wore masks. Yan Qingqiu held Song Qingre's hand tightly and hugged her arm, refusing to let go.

She was so dependent on Song Qingre; she always felt safe with her.

When they got back that evening, Yan Fu was already home, sitting on the sofa. He clutched a newspaper, and when he looked up, his expression was grim. He glanced at Yan Qingqiu, and her heart lurched.

But Yan Fu wasn't targeting her. He turned to Song Qingre instead. "Little Re, I have something I need to ask you. I received a video, and I need you to explain it properly."

Yan Qingqiu carefully studied her father's expression, confirming it wasn't about her identity. She moved closer to Song Qingre. "Dad, what is it?"

"A small matter," Yan Fu said, though his face said otherwise. "Little Re, come here."

Yan Fu held a white envelope in his hand. Song Qingre followed him upstairs. Yan Fu said, "Dong Shu, keep an eye on the young miss. Don't let her come up."

The butler poured tea for Yan Qingqiu and reassured her it was nothing, saying as long as Song Qingre explained clearly, all would be well.

Song Qingre stayed upstairs and didn't come down. Yan Qingqiu was beside herself with anxiety, pacing back and forth and glancing up the stairs. Every time she tried to go up, she was stopped.

The talk went on for three hours.

The moment she saw Song Qingre emerge, Yan Qingqiu rushed up. She ran so fast and made such a racket she nearly stomped the stairs down. "Are you okay? Did something happen? What did Dad say?"

"Nothing. He just told me to sleep in my own room tonight," Song Qingre said softly.

Yan Qingqiu was worried and wanted to know what they'd talked about.

Seeing Song Qingre smiling, she didn't know what it was about. She thought seriously, then voiced her suspicion in a low voice, "Could it be... he wants us to, you know, take it easy in bed? Avoid, um, contraception?"

Song Qingre hadn't expected to hear that from her, though it also felt perfectly in character. She nearly choked, took a deep breath, and said softly, "You have quite the imagination."

"...Right, probably not that. Dad's always telling us to have kids anyway," Yan Qingqiu said, feeling uneasy. She had a nagging sense she was somehow responsible. Yan Fu's room was on the third floor; theirs was on the second. Yan Qingqiu glanced back but didn't see her father. She grabbed Song Qingre's hand and hurried down to their door, pushing it open to find that Song Qingre's sheets and blankets had all been taken away.

Yan Qingqiu clicked her tongue and stared at Song Qingre in shock.

Song Qingre said, "Let's just listen to him tonight. I'll go sleep in my room."

"Wait." Yan Qingqiu went in and quickly grabbed her own blanket, then followed her into the next room.

As she walked, she turned and saw her father standing at the top of the stairs. Yan Qingqiu turned back, burying her face in the blanket, but she firmly followed Song Qingre inside.

That night the wind howled, and they could hear it whistling from their room.

Yan Qingqiu pressed close to Song Qingre and said she really wanted to ask what Song Qingre and her father had talked about in the study, but she didn't dare, thinking it had to do with her identity.

She mulled it over and couldn't sleep, so she asked a particularly stupid question.

Yan Qingqiu asked, "Do you think Dad... if he had two identical daughters... would he mind?"

Song Qingre turned the question back on her. "Then does Qiuqiu want an identical sister?"

Yan Qingqiu thought about it and, following instinct, shook her head. She pressed her pillow over and over, catching the scent of Song Qingre's hair. "No."

Both their bodies were bare. Song Qingre rested her hand on Yan Qingqiu's lower belly, her fingers tracing slowly for a while, then said, "Actually, I think twins would be nice."

"Oh, you." Yan Qingqiu knew she was dodging the topic.

Because the two of them had an unspoken habit: when faced with a question they couldn't answer, they'd deflect with something steamy.

"You'll know tomorrow. Sleep tight now." Song Qingre's voice was gentle as she patted her softly. "Don't worry."

She was always so gentle, even in the howling wind.

Yan Qingqiu was drowning in it. She rolled over onto Song Qingre, and in a bold, forceful tone, said, "I think... it's better not to use protection."

··

Fu Sang went back to ER again, supposedly to negotiate ending her contract, but actually to deliver something.

This time, everyone at ER looked at her with strange eyes. Her office hadn't been given to anyone; it had been converted directly into a storage room.

On the way, she ran into her former assistant, who kept her head down and hurried past, as if afraid of catching her bad luck.

Fu Sang felt like needles were pricking her all over, branding her with the word "traitor." She pushed open Su Xingjie's door and placed an envelope on the desk. "This is evidence that Song Qingre is a pervert."

Su Xingjie didn't look at it. She didn't even raise her head. "Just because you got plastic surgery and claim you're Qiuqiu, Song Qingre becomes a lunatic? A pervert?" Su Xingjie naturally didn't believe it.

Luo Xi was a perfect example. Her mind hadn't been all there at first. She'd pulled all kinds of schemes, sabotaged Song Qingre's exhibition, and trailed around after Fu Ye. She'd seemed airheaded, but she could still change, could still turn back from the brink. There was no need to label her vicious and take revenge until her family was ruined.

She'd done wrong, but not to that degree.

As for her calling Song Qingre a pervert,

Su Xingjie really couldn't understand that. In her memory, Song Qingre had never bullied anyone. She was always clean, gentle, quietly protecting them.

Where was the perversion?

"She followed me back then, threatened me with a knife—either slicing me open or cutting my throat." Seeing that Su Xingjie wouldn't look, Fu Sang took the envelope herself, tore it open, and inserted the memory card into a tablet.

Su Xingjie hadn't planned on arguing with her, but the audio made her stop writing. The recording was urgent, and Yan Qingqiu's voice rang out.

"Let go, let go! I said let go of me! Song Qingre, you psycho! Stay away from me!"

Su Xingjie looked up. She wasn't wearing her glasses, and at that distance she couldn't make out what was playing on Fu Sang's tablet. She squinted. In the video, Yan Qingqiu was tied to a chair. Song Qingre sat on the bed with a fruit knife in hand. She stood and used it to cut her hair.

One slow stroke, then two back and forth, and then faster.

Song Qingre leisurely played with her hair, bending slightly and saying, "I hate the way you dye your hair. It's disgusting."

She stood behind Yan Qingqiu, leaned down, and pinched her face hard. The grip was so strong that Yan Qingqiu's lips parted from the pain.

Song Qingre coaxed her in a tender voice, "It doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt. Won't you tell me where my Qiuqiu went? Where did you take her? Is my Qiuqiu okay?"

Before the video finished, Fu Sang paused it.

"Delete it." Su Xingjie put her glasses back on and stared at her coldly.

Fu Sang frowned, pretending not to understand, and said in a somewhat hurt tone, "She did this to me once. She might do it to you someday."

"I won't say it twice." Su Xingjie leaned back, crossing her long legs, her arm resting on her elbow. Her cool, commanding aura made her seem ruthless as she said, "Are you using this video to threaten me? Trying to extort me?"

"I'm trying to make you see her for what she is," Fu Sang said. "Don't you want to know when it was filmed? Why I have this video?"

"See her for what she is? One of these people is my good friend, the other my good sister." Su Xingjie let out a light laugh as she spoke. Luo Xi was a bit clever—she mimicked the call of "sister," and her fear instantly subsided, her heartbeat steadying.

"So, you still want to extort me?" Su Xingjie asked.

Fu Sang took in her appearance. It was the first time she'd seen this "friend" in such a light—cold, merciless, looking at her with contempt. The black leather chair supported her body, her blazer hung open to reveal a black sweater underneath; her figure was full and voluptuous.

Her red lips parted, her tone icy.

"Because you jumped ship, the person who set up your modeling agency is now crippled, the funds can't turn over, and now you're coming to shake me down?" Su Xingjie said. "You're overthinking it."

Fu Sang's face darkened too. She stood and laughed, saying, "I'm telling you about this because I saw this video online."

Meaning she wasn't the only one who knew Song Qingre was a pervert—everyone would know how twisted she was.

"So you only saw it online, meaning you don't know if the video is real or fake, right?" Su Xingjie asked seriously, her words cutting like daggers.

Fu Sang had her back to her. She was 179 cm tall, claimed 180, and was nearly ten centimeters taller than Su Xingjie. She didn't foolishly fall into Su Xingjie's trap and said, "I'm not sure either. Real or fake, just ask Song Qingre."

"If I were really Yan Qingqiu, don't you think Song Qingre is terrifying? Maybe I've changed from before, but at least I look more harmless than Song Qingre. Those years I was a bit disobedient, but I was always good to you." Fu Sang didn't turn around, her voice chilling. "Song Qingre knows how to act. She mixes truth and lies. Can you tell them apart?"

With that, she left. Honestly, her little speech had frightened Su Xingjie. Her support for Song Qingre rested on intuition alone. She didn't know if believing in Song Qingre was right.

Trusting a demon means you can't see the light until dawn.

Fu Sang didn't close the door on her way out. Su Xingjie's secretary came straight in. "Director, a video has appeared online. It's trending now. Do you want to take a look?"

Fu Sang had learned her lesson—she'd posted the video online first, then gone to tell Su Xingjie, afraid Su Xingjie would block it beforehand.

The secretary was anxious because the content was explosive. It was pulled down right after going up. What remained were links posted by netizens.

Su Xingjie wasn't in a hurry. She opened the trending topic. The content was longer than what Fu Sang had shown her—five minutes in total.

The video was shot at night, the lighting dim.

It showed Song Qingre lifting a sleeping person up, placing them in the chair, and leisurely tying them up with rope. Then she quietly waited beside them for the person to wake. After waiting a while and seeing no sign of waking, she stroked their head and called to them tenderly.

"Wake up. I have something to tell you." Song Qingre caressed her face, her eyes full of love.

The person in the chair stirred awake, recognized who was before her, and tensed instantly, struggling desperately. The chair shook violently and toppled to the ground. Song Qingre gently pushed the chair back up. "Don't be afraid. I just haven't seen you lately, and I miss my Qiuqiu so much. I came today to talk with you."

The rest matched what came before.

Song Qingre didn't act as frenzied as in the movies. Rather, she was gentle, her voice carrying that distinctive timbre, flowing like a stream as she said, "Let's play a game."

Su Xingjie watched it over and over.

The secretary peeked at it, her heart pounding. She didn't dare voice an opinion. Su Xingjie turned the video face down and said, "Contact Qiu Bao. Have her come to the company. Prep for PR."

··

After pulling that off, Fu Sang called the partners. Some picked up at first, but soon enough, no one answered.

Fu Sang clutched her phone. Negative news about her still flooded the internet. She scrolled for a long time before seeing Yan Qingqiu's trending post.

At three in the afternoon, Yan Qingqiu posted a video.

But unlike what she'd expected, the title was: #Yan Qingqiu Is a Pervert#

Yan Qingqiu held her phone and recorded the video. With a very serious expression, she apologized to the public: "I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry. I'll never be a pervert again. I don't know what came over me—I got carried away and did some roleplay that day. This video accidentally leaked and was snooped by someone who plastered it all over the internet, making me lose all face. I swear, I swear to the heavens, I'll never be a pervert again. I won't take up public resources anymore."

"I apologize to all netizens. Because I personally love the charm of contrast—I love the idea of a gentle, jade-like older sister turning into a psychopathic killer to dominate me—I went overboard and made others play along with me in this shameful play. I deeply apologize!"

With that, she raised her finger, her expression dead serious.

"I, Yan Qingqiu, swear that if I'm ever a pervert again, may I be struck by lightning—and may it strike dead all those peeping perverts! Waahh!"

The caption read:

【By the way, for the children's mental health, don't imitate this! If you ever meet a pervert in real life, run for your life. Don't think it's cool. I was just acting! I'll let my agent know—no endorsements for a while. Sorry for making you all laugh. I'll punish myself by being good for a few days!】

Whether it was PR spin or just how hilarious her video was, the comments were all laughter.

【Let me summarize: Yan Qingqiu's whole life is being a pervert and a joke. She's doing freaky stuff at home and gets caught on camera trending. What kind of weirdo is this? I'm dying laughing.】

【But honestly, Song Qingre is so hot for this. Gentle and careful, afraid of hurting Qiuqiu, and yet like she's about to kill her in one strike... Can we get Artist Song to debut already? Last time with the tea-bitch act my mind was blown, and now she can play a psycho. I'm DampWet.】

【Since they're doing kinky stuff, does that mean they're together? Did my ship finally sail? Did they hook up?】

【Aahhhh, if they weren't dressed this would be a sex tape scandal. I don't even care about the kinky stuff. I just want to know who filmed it! Judging by the angle, it might have been from a hidden camera!】

【...Honestly, this is really scary. They're playing wild. If they weren't already together, I'd say Yan Qingqiu was in mortal danger. Also: it was Fu Sang, wasn't it?】

【That woman is vicious. Not only did she target Qiang Wei, she's targeting Yan Qingqiu too. Good thing Yan Qingqiu's rich and her dad is Yan Fu. Poor Qiang Wei, still missing somewhere. Qiang Wei treated her as her best friend. If it weren't for Qiang Wei, would she be where she is today?】

Fu Sang's fans were none too pleased and argued directly in the comments: 【What does this have to do with Qiang Wei? Fu Sang rose because Su Xingjie promoted her.】

【So you do know it was Xingjie who promoted her. I thought you didn't. Su Xingjie lifted you up, and you steal her models and start your own company. And then slander her online? Do you have no shame? Do you have a conscience? People like you belong in hell.】

【I don't care about anything else now. I just want to see which investor still backs her. I'll not only boycott their products, I'll curse them out every day and see how low this ungrateful thing can sink.】

【Remember that conflict she had with another model early this year? Su Xingjie stood by her so fiercely then. She gave her heart and soul, promoted her so hard—though she had no real results, she just force-fed her with red-carpet and blue-blood resources until she broke through. Now she pulls this stunt. If she can get her modeling agency off the ground, then there's no justice in this world.】

【Not even talking about character—just the fact that she rammed her car into Song Qingre and Yan Qingqiu is unforgivable. Does she have something wrong with her head? Didn't ER find a bunch of drug users before? Was she involved too?】

【For her murderous intentions alone, I hope they blacklist her immediately. Is there anyone powerful in the industry? Let's gang up and beat her ass. Just looking at her face makes me sick. Something's off about it.】

【Drop her home address, and her parents too. Oh wait, I remember—she's mixed-race, isn't she? She's not even one of us. Send her back to her country!】

Fu Sang's background couldn't hold up to scrutiny.

Under Su Xingjie's protection, she'd gotten away with a lot. Now that her wings were clipped, was she square or round, ugly or pretty? The internet would dig it all up.

Fu Sang knew better than anyone that she'd leaned on Su Xingjie.

She desperately didn't want to believe that Su Xingjie now refused to even acknowledge her. Before, Su Xingjie had been so, so good to her.

That goodness belonged to her alone, irreplaceable by anyone else.

She had once asked Su Xingjie which version of her she preferred, the present one or the old one. Su Xingjie had answered without hesitation: no matter what, she would always stand by her side. No matter how she changed, she would believe in her unwaveringly, be her eternal support, her eternal guiding star.

Su Xingjie didn't believe her—because she didn't believe her identity.

Fu Sang hadn't expected it to turn out like this. Even with such a terrifying video, netizens were still shipping them, shipping them into the ground. It was... abnormal.

But then again, maybe it was normal. These were all Su Xingjie's moves. She promoted people, she cleaned up after them, and no matter how dire the situation, she always found a way to respond. She gave everything to those she cared for.

The secretary knocked and came in, the third or fourth time in just a few minutes, urging, "What do we do? The Fu family and the models are all demanding money now."

Fu Sang's head ached. She flipped her phone face down and said, "Don't worry about the models. Let them cause a scene. If they make a fuss, they make a fuss."

"And the Fu family's money?"

Fu Sang closed her eyes. "Run the numbers first. How much do we need? I'll go see Fu Ye tomorrow and negotiate the money properly."

The secretary didn't need to calculate; finance had already given her the figure. They'd taken three hundred million, and with the compensation for the luxury car, that came to around four hundred fifty million in total.

Had Song Qingre looked into her assets?

Fu Sang stood to leave. That amount wasn't small for her. After all, she'd paid off some of the models when she poached them. How much was actually left in her hands now was precious little.

Downstairs, the models came after her again. Fu Sang didn't want to deal with them and strode off, but those models weren't pushovers. They chased her down and grabbed her, saying, "You don't have to pay us if you don't want to, but don't blame us for spouting nonsense online later. We'll pin everything on you."

Fu Sang clenched her fists.

She'd poached ten models total. Now all ten surrounded her, and she was outnumbered, broke, and powerless. Some of these people even had more followers than she did. If it came to a fight, she really might not win. She'd only relied on the Fu family's big platform, and now the Fu family was dragged through the mud online. Fu Sang couldn't get a cent, and the models, to protect themselves, would never let her off.

They'd also come to their senses by now—Fu Sang's nationality might not even be domestic. If she bolted abroad, they'd be left as sacrificial lambs. How could that be a fair deal?

They'd keep an eye on her. Worst case, they'd go down together.

Fu Sang said calmly, "This is just a move between me and the Fu family. A little wind like this and you're scared? I got you out of that company before. What else do you have to worry about?"

The models didn't trust her. "What other tricks do you have?"

"The internet keeps saying we partnered with the Fu family and betrayed ER. If the Fu family now says they're not investing, doesn't that make us a legitimate, self-founded modeling agency? Can't you see that?" Fu Sang said.

The models were half-convinced.

"If you want to leave, I won't stop you. But as agreed, if you leave, I won't make it hard on you—just pay the contract termination fee. If you have any other questions, I suggest you go to legal."

Hearing money, the models turned shrewd. "So you're saying you don't plan on paying us a single cent?"

Everyone had been through the wringer in this world. Fu Sang might not even be as sharp as they were. Seeing her face go silent, a few of them came over and grabbed her hair, cursing, "Fu Sang, think carefully. We terminated our contracts with ER to come to you. If you ruin us, we'll fucking kill you."

The models didn't throw punches, but they yanked her hair hard. Fu Sang stumbled out and got into her luxury car. Once inside, she ground her teeth.

"A bunch of cannon fodder." Fu Sang cursed under her breath. Her eyes landed on a document in the car. She flipped it open—a report from the secretary, clearly stating the GY antique car at a price of one hundred million.

The light turned red. She tore the paper to shreds.

She tilted her head back. That pervert Song Qingre was like a shadow.

That night, Fu Sang returned to find blood splattered on her door.

Fu Sang kicked the door. Maybe it was the suffocating feeling Song Qingre gave her, but she felt like the house was being watched.

Truth be told, Song Qingre could find her in a heartbeat—this was ER's house, and Song Qingre had her address.

Fu Sang stood still, glaring hatefully, then turned and went downstairs to check into a hotel.

But not long after she got to the hotel, her phone rang—it was her lawyer. The lawyer scolded her for breaking the agreement by leaving and asked if she'd posted the video online.

The lawyer said, "You had this video, why didn't you send it to me? This video works in our favor."

Fu Sang said nothing.

The other side said, "Go back right now. The protection act requires you to comply. If you don't, they'll refuse to negotiate, label you a dangerous person, and you'll definitely..."

"I think my house is being watched," Fu Sang said.

"Watched?" The lawyer was puzzled. "Do you have proof? Proof would help us too."

"No," Fu Sang said. "But there was a video yesterday."

Fu Sang sent over the video and the note she'd found.

After reading it, the lawyer said, "Alright, go back and find someone to stay with you. File a police report tomorrow and let the police handle it. Logically, she shouldn't be this impulsive."

Fu Sang knew her well and said, "She's not impulsive. She's agitated. She's not afraid of death. She just wants to torment me. Tormenting me excites her. She said she wanted to cut open my head and see..."

"See what?" the lawyer asked.

Fu Sang frowned and didn't continue. "Have you two had any other grievances before? From what we can gather, you've had no interaction. The only conflict is that you took Su Xingjie's models. You and Song Qingre have no contact at all. The only link is Yan Qingqiu."

Fu Sang didn't trust the lawyer much. Between her and Song Qingre wasn't just a Yan Qingqiu.

The lawyer pushed further, and Fu Sang had no choice but to go back. She called her assistant to come stay with her. If anything happened, the assistant would be her witness.

The moment she opened the door, she was stunned.

Her room was covered in envelopes on the floor, and on every envelope was a photo of her face.

Fu Sang swallowed hard. She picked up an envelope and opened it—inside was a memory card. She opened another—same thing.

The assistant asked if she wanted a tablet. Fu Sang turned, took the tablet, and inserted the card. Inside was her video—the full, five-minute version she'd posted online...

It dawned on her. Why wasn't anyone calling them perverts? Because her attacks were aimed at Song Qingre, and Song Qingre had easily dodged them, making everyone focus on Yan Qingqiu instead.

The entire room, every envelope, contained the videos.

All of them—every video she'd posted, Song Qingre had sent right back.

However many she'd released, Song Qingre had mailed back in equal number.

Netizens would never know how twisted Song Qingre was.

But she did. Clearly.

··

Song Qingre didn't have a Weibo account, and her studio didn't do online marketing.

This time, the clarification borrowed Yan Qingqiu's account. Yan Qingqiu's account posted: 【The art I present has always been twisted, because I love the pleasure of extreme distortion. But I've discovered the person who filmed me is even more twisted than I am. This video is from about three years ago, and you've kept it in your hands for three years. If you're still reading my Weibo, let me say: I appreciate your psychopathy and would love to paint you a portrait, with a serial number. Qiuqiu is 25 this year. Why not try today? 25 multiplied by 365 days—shall I call you 9125?】

Song Qingre never directly cursed the person who filmed her, nor did she condemn their immoral behavior, but the netizens went wild.

【Damn, Song Qingre ran into a pervert?】

【I still can't tell who's more twisted. The one who filmed Song Qingre?】

【Ah, the one who filmed Song Qingre is Fu Sang, right? Wasn't she the one who rammed her car into Yan Qingqiu and the others recently? Wait, I don't get it. Fu Sang didn't know Yan Qingqiu three years ago. Why was she watching her? I thought she was just jealous of Yan Qingqiu.】

As everyone cursed, one trending topic resolved all doubts: #Fu Sang Is a Pervert#

【I said it: Fu Sang is the 9125th sicko.】