Chapter 77

There had been no snow for the past few days, but the cold lingered, leaving the old snow crusted and crunchy underfoot.

Even indoors, the wind's bite was unmistakable. Yan Qingqiu and Su Xingjie pinky-swore, their fingers swaying before pressing into a firm seal. Silently, Yan Qingqiu vowed to protect Xing Xing no matter what.

After the oath, Yan Qingqiu wanted even more closeness, so that evening she declared she'd sleep next to Su Xingjie. Su Xingjie was obviously thrilled, and Song Qingre, scrolling on her phone nearby, said nothing.

That night, Yan Qingqiu cheerfully carried her blanket into Su Xingjie's room, ready for a long sisterly chat. She'd barely stepped in when Song Qingre followed and settled in too.

"What are you doing here?" Yan Qingqiu asked, puzzled.

Song Qingre hugged her cup, resting her cheek against it, and said with utter gravity, "I just swore to the heavens that I must protect you both." So she was staying too.

She winked at Yan Qingqiu, and Yan Qingqiu's heart nearly melted on the spot. She had to admit she was a hopeless case—one little wink and she was done for.

The room wasn't too dark; they'd just finished dinner. Yan Qingqiu set her blanket on the bed and perched on the edge, draping it over her legs. Su Xingjie smiled shyly, flustered by the duo's presence.

Song Qingre laid her blanket on the floor, making a pallet on Yan Qingqiu's side.

At one point, Yan Qingqiu accidentally stepped on Song Qingre's arm. Song Qingre let out a soft hiss and gave her a helpless look. Then Yan Qingqiu deliberately set her foot on Song Qingre's face.

Song Qingre grabbed her ankle and burrowed back under the blanket. Su Xingjie lay on her side, watching them both with laughter in her eyes. Yan Qingqiu asked her, "Don't you keep in touch with your mom now?"

"Not for the past two years. She's busy. You know my half-sister—the one my mom had—she's in sixth grade now, about to start middle school."

Su Xingjie continued, "When she was little, I used to buy her toys. Now she seems more mature than me—she does her makeup, reads novels, and makes videos every day. A few times she messaged me asking, 'Sis, is this your company's clothes?' I'd say yes, but we don't do kids' wear, so I had nothing to send her. I just bought her some big brand stuff, and after that we didn't talk much. Over time, we just drifted apart."

Su Xingjie spoke without a trace of sadness. That kind of detachment suited her. Forced conversations made her uncomfortable and overly sensitive, forcing her to wonder what she really was to that family.

This disconnected state was fine.

Su Xingjie sent her mom money and new clothes, but she didn't expect anything in return.

Yan Qingqiu lay there, knowing that Su Xingjie was fundamentally passive at heart. After thinking for a long time, she spoke her true feelings: Su Xingjie was extraordinary to her, her very best friend.

She didn't want to describe them as "sisters"—real sisters could never have a bond as good as theirs.

One talked, the other listened.

At some point, Song Qingre sat up, picked up a sketchpad, and started drawing. The two of them chatted while watching her work.

Song Qingre sketched them in various poses.

Outside the window, a few faint stars dotted the sky; in the bed, two bright figures leaned against the headboard talking, then lay on their stomachs to watch the artist.

Su Xingjie asked her to draw her too.

So Song Qingre drew a corner of gray pajamas peeking out from the bed, a hand reaching down to tug at her hem, and another finger joining in.

The drawing was finished on the third day. Song Qingre framed it and gave it to Su Xingjie.

Recently, there was something else: Song Qingre's account received a transfer from Fu Sang. It seemed Fu Sang's account had a daily limit, so she sent fifty million first, then over the next two days gradually transferred the full hundred million.

Who knew what inner change she had gone through.

A hundred and fifty million.

That was no small sum.

Song Qingre smiled about it. That vintage car—she never bothered to get it repaired—she simply drove it back and parked it in the garage. When Yan Qingqiu went to look, she found another one inside.

So Song Qingre had two vintage cars!

Song Qingre said, "These cars are one of a kind, and the fewer there are on the road, the more valuable they are sitting at home."

In the morning, the two of them changed and went to the hospital for check-ups.

Su Xingjie went back to the company to review this year's holiday gift list and hold a year-end meeting, after which she was officially off duty.

"You two are all done, right?" Song Qingre asked.

"Yes."

"Tomorrow I'm taking you both out," Song Qingre said.

Yan Qingqiu wrapped a scarf around her neck. "Where to?"

Song Qingre said, "A friend of mine just got a new ride and invited us to play."

"Who? Ye Sichun? Actually, I've never been to her house," Yan Qingqiu said, curious.

Yan Qingqiu nodded.

Su Xingjie's car left first. When their car pulled out, they saw the butler clearing snow from the yard. Yan Qingqiu had been keeping an eye on household matters lately.

Fu Sang hadn't come by since that incident.

But since she had repaid Song Qingre's money, she was surely eager to get back into the house.

The butler said to Song Qingre, "Today, the master went out with Fu Sang. It seems they went to meet the Fu family." He sighed. "I never knew the master had twin daughters."

"It's fine," Yan Qingqiu comforted her instead.

Fu Sang moved fast—she must be itching to do it.

Song Qingre drove quickly, taking her straight to the hospital.

The hospital was crowded, likely because with the New Year approaching, many couples were getting pre-marital check-ups. Lines of couples stretched up and down the floors.

They had booked an appointment in advance and went straight to a familiar doctor.

Today's main tasks were checking how Yan Qingqiu's gland was healing and when Song Qingre's heat would come.

Yan Qingqiu went to see her previous doctor, who said she was recovering very well and could now engage in intercourse. The moment she heard "intercourse," Yan Qingqiu bolted, not daring to hear the rest of the advice.

As long as she ran fast enough, she could avoid the embarrassment.

From the gland department, she headed to Song Qingre's exam room.

Song Qingre sat in a chair, having undergone a full body scan. The doctor held up her images and analyzed them in meticulous detail.

Yan Qingqiu couldn't help but ask directly, "When will her heat come?"

Their heats weren't fixed—they could be induced, but that came with high risk.

Yan Qingqiu's results were good; she could endure a second heat, but Song Qingre's timing was uncertain.

Yan Qingqiu was puzzled. She asked the doctor, "Why can't you be sure? Is there a problem?"

The doctor said, "Last time, her heat was induced, so we can't predict the next one. However, it should be next month."

"Next month? That's too late, isn't it?" Yan Qingqiu frowned and lowered her voice. "Can it be sooner?"

"Can't wait?" the doctor asked.

"It's a special situation," Yan Qingqiu said.

"Your gland just healed, and you're already this eager?" the doctor said gently, in a scolding tone. "You're way too thirsty. Treat your alpha like a person, not some animal."

"..."

Yan Qingqiu was speechless. This wasn't even her primary doctor—how did she recognize her right away?

She stood at the door not knowing what to say, clutching her exam report.

The doctor glanced at the papers and mused, "You're quite famous. I bet this hospital will remember you for centuries."

Thanks, but she'd rather not go down in history that way.

The doctor said, "Have you read your report? I can read it for you too."

Yan Qingqiu shook her head. No, no, no. She was afraid the doctor would gossip about her.

Song Qingre pursed her lips, looking at Yan Qingqiu, barely holding back a smile. "How about you wait outside?"

"No, it's, it's fine." She was already embarrassed enough; she might as well hear what the doctor had to say. It wasn't that she was impatient—what if one day Song Qingre left her and the System suddenly came online, forcing her task? If Song Qingre's heat never came, she'd be doomed.

The doctor typed on the keyboard and said seriously, "Listen to me. Even as an alpha, you need to take care of your body. Don't think that just because you're an alpha you can toy with heats. She's an SSS-level omega, not ordinary. There's a saying: it's never the field that gets worn out, only the ox that dies from overwork. You need to watch yourself."

Song Qingre turned her head to look outside, and Yan Qingqiu slowly backed out of the room.

Song Qingre said, "It's fine, I can handle her. My stamina is good."

Yan Qingqiu's ears hurt.

She hadn't even said what she wanted to ask—she meant to ask the doctor how to increase the chances of pregnancy. Though she wasn't interested in having a child now, she was curious. What if they were forced into it?

The doctor's words left her speechless.

She stood outside, head down, texting Song Qingre. Just as she hit send, Song Qingre had already asked the question in a very roundabout way.

But the doctor looked straight at Yan Qingqiu and said, "You two are quite wild. Conception rates are higher during heat, but you need to do a full marking, open the reproductive canal, and go in several more times. That makes pregnancy very likely. Just be sure not to bite the gland again."

Yan Qingqiu felt it was unfair. She was the one whose gland got bitten, so why did the doctor think she was the thirsty one? That was so biased.

When Song Qingre came out, Yan Qingqiu let out a huff.

"It has to be next month."

Song Qingre didn't respond, walking ahead until they reached the empty payment area at the end of the hall, where she finally said, "Do you know how many days until next month?"

"Huh?" Yan Qingqiu pulled out her phone to check the date.

"...Oh."

She got it. Seven days.

Thanks. No wonder the doctor called her thirsty.

This was deadly.

Song Qingre couldn't help but let out a snort.

Yan Qingqiu was going crazy. Was the number seven deliberately out to get her? Why was she being roasted on the fire? Couldn't it have been eighteen days?

"You're not coming at the start of the month, right?" Yan Qingqiu asked.

Song Qingre thought for a moment and said, "Maybe, maybe not. I could ask the doctor again?"

"No, no, no, no!" Yan Qingqiu bit her finger, shot her a look, and turned away.

Help! Now she wasn't worried about when Song Qingre's heat would come—she was worried it would come too soon, and what would she do then?!

"What's wrong?" Song Qingre poked her shoulder, looking at her with concern.

"I just feel..." Yan Qingqiu sensed ill intent and expectation in her. Wail... Little girl, little gland, I'm about to let you down again!