Chapter 9

Yan Qingqiu's face burned bright red. How was she supposed to reply to a message like that?

She couldn't get her head around it. Song Qingre was the female lead, the designated white moonlight—cold, aloof, unbending. Why had she become so... so...

Was there some misunderstanding?

She thought back to the original questionnaire. *Lovers, big sister*—that was nothing to scoff at.

Song Qingre didn't message again after that. Yan Qingqiu stared at her phone, thumb hovering over the screen as it threatened to dim. She tapped it gently, the light casting shadows across her face. She flipped the phone over, then picked it up and read it again.

Song Qingre hadn't replied. Those last words just sat there, like Yan Qingqiu genuinely enjoyed outdoor sex, or like Song Qingre had her completely wrapped around her finger.

After reading it over and over, Yan Qingqiu decided to pretend she hadn't seen it. She lay back on the bed—every glance at the screen made her uncomfortable. This was the exact opposite of her original plan.

She'd initially wanted to farm Song Qingre's affection. Now, in Song Qingre's eyes, she was probably a total pervert.

"Ugh, what am I even doing this for?"

After that, whenever Song Qingre messaged her, Yan Qingqiu resolved to read but never reply.

Song Qingre: 【I suddenly realize I have a strong tolerance. Qiuqiu, thank you. I feel like I'm not the person I used to be. I'm starting to confront my true feelings.】

Yan Qingqiu replied coldly: 【We're both alphas】

Meaning: incompatible orientations, bad in bed.

Song Qingre: 【You don't need to hold back just because I'm an alpha.】

Every day, Song Qingre sent her pictures of outdoor scenery, without explicitly saying anything—just asking if they were pretty. Like she was rushing a long-distance romance, desperate to see whether the person behind the phone was human or ghost.

Every time she replied, Yan Qingqiu wanted to slap herself. After that, she really stopped replying and kept hiding—hiding as far away as she could.

Once, she nearly ran into Song Qingre. Song Qingre was eating at the hotel restaurant while Yan Qingqiu went to the hospital for a follow-up. She caught a glimpse of Song Qingre as she stepped out the door, and the next second she clutched her ID card and bolted. If she could've tolerated the hospital's disinfectant smell, she would've checked in for a few days just to hide.

Bored out of her mind these past few days, she read the update the butler had given her:

【The moonlight was bleak and desolate; the stars rose and fell, then sank again.

Miss Song came as usual every dusk to tutor Miss. Recently, the master instructed me to look after them more closely, even having a doctor visit daily. Before we knew it, they'd turned eighteen—the age of differentiation.

These past few days, the two of them had become mysterious. They were often nowhere to be seen, and they liked to hide in dark corners, as if that would keep others from noticing them. That day was special. Miss Song's face was particularly red. Her usually tied-up ponytail was let down, covering her shoulders. Miss was shorter than Miss Song. She stood on her tiptoes, reached up to cover Miss Song's neck, and the two of them trotted from the garden up to the second floor.

I went up to bring fruit, and I witnessed an unforgettable scene.

Miss kept her promise. She didn't steal a kiss on Miss Song's lips. She only leaned down, pressing her lips to Miss Song's neck.

It turned out Miss Song had already begun to differentiate. She was kissing Miss Song's gland.

Miss Song lay sideways against the table, eyes half-open. She faced the door, and she was awake, but her gaze shifted slightly, her lashes shadowing the skin beneath her eyes. Even when she sensed my presence, she closed her eyes and pretended not to notice.

Miss's fingers covered the back of Miss Song's hand, her fingertips slipping between Miss Song's fingers. She sucked on Miss Song's gland and clasped Miss Song's hand, their fingers intertwining tighter and tighter.

The two looked like white swans with necks entwined, grooming each other's pure white feathers in the season of first love.

Miss lingered for a long time. Miss Song's lips parted slightly. Miss leaned in closer to her ear, and her red lips landed on her flushed cheek.

"Sister, I didn't kiss your mouth."

Miss Song's eyes blinked. Candlelight shone brightly, illuminating half the table.

Miss said, "Did you taste me? I'm sweet. I put on strawberry lip balm today..."

"Mm... sweet."

After that, I turned around. I knew I couldn't look anymore.

Because at that moment, Miss Song wanted to kiss Miss's lips.】

Yan Qingqiu read the paper over and over. Was the butler really just recording reality? Why did it feel polished, with literary flair? It was too sweet, too much like a maiden's first stirrings...

Damn, it made her blush.

If that's how it went, then Miss Yan and Miss Song were a couple. Why did Miss Yan end up falling for that scumbag Fu Ye in the middle of it all?

Was it the power of the plot that tore them apart? She refused to accept it.

Give me a happy ending!

·

On Saturday, the butler came to the hotel to bring her clothes.

As she changed, she wrestled with whether she should go to Song Qingre's exhibition. It wasn't really her business. Her goal was just to survive and go home early.

The farther she stayed from Song Qingre, the better. She would play it safe until the task was done, then leave.

Once in the car, she held out her hand to the butler. The butler accompanied her to the exhibition, sitting diagonally across from her. "Some things I honestly can't remember," the butler said awkwardly. "I haven't written much these past two days."

Yan Qingqiu frowned, looking displeased. The butler pulled out a piece of paper. "Really, Miss. Not a drop left."

Yan Qingqiu took it. Meeting the butler's gaze, she felt embarrassed to read it directly, so she folded it and tucked it into her bag. "No skipping updates next time," she said seriously, "or I'll dock your pay." Then she glanced at the scenery outside the window. She wanted to ask the butler why such a perfect pair had fallen apart.

When they arrived, Yan Qingqiu didn't get out of the car.

What if stepping out triggered a plot point immediately?

Yan Qingqiu: 【System, nothing's going to happen today, right?】

System, cold: 【Hm?】

Yan Qingqiu asked the butler, "Can we use the back door?"

The butler said, "But you're dressed so stunningly. Would the back door suit you?"

Yan Qingqiu gritted her teeth. The butler asked again, "Are you hiding from Miss Song? Honestly, you ignoring her like this reminds me of a little something."

"...Get out of the car!"

The butler immediately got out and opened her door, his manner respectful and courteous, making everyone nearby curious about the person inside. At his signal, she stepped out. She wore a princess gown with pearl-chain straps, the whole thing a radiant orange with a holographic sheen. Most striking of all, she had golden hair, which made her fair skin, apricot eyes, and rosy cheeks look like a delicate little princess straight out of an oil painting.

The butler felt proud to open the door for her.

Yan Qingqiu looked up and spotted Song Qingre from a distance. Song Qingre stood at the entrance in a black dress, hair elegantly pinned up. A man in a suit stood beside her, and they were talking, neither noticing this side.

Yan Qingqiu planned to slip in with the crowd ahead and skip greeting Song Qingre altogether. She'd walked halfway, only about a hundred meters away, when someone suddenly called her full name from behind.

"Yan Qingqiu!"

Yan Qingqiu bit her lip. Whoever it was, she'd pretend she didn't hear. She lowered her head and kept walking.

"Qiu Bao, I see you!" The voice behind her called out, breathless.

Yan Qingqiu's body went hot. She wanted to throw hands. Did this person have no sense of timing? Couldn't they see she wanted to keep a low profile?

But she knew exactly who was calling: her "best friend"—Su Xingjie.

Su Xingjie hadn't seen her in a while. She'd messaged her on WeChat a few times, but Yan Qingqiu never replied, so she'd gotten worried and came looking for her today. After calling out several times with no response, she picked up her skirt and ran toward her.

Yan Qingqiu thought quickly—she'd just stick with Su Xingjie. With someone else present, Song Qingre would have to behave herself and wouldn't dare do anything to her.

Su Xingjie was still calling out: "Qiu Bao, why do you keep avoiding me?"

Who's your bao? Distracted by the person behind her, Yan Qingqiu wasn't watching where she was going. She bumped into something soft. She was just about to apologize when her wrist was seized. The warmth was familiar, and what she smelled was clean, sweet citrus.

Yan Qingqiu looked up. It had been a long time since she'd smelled pheromones, and her body reacted intensely. In that instant, her waist gave way, and before she could steady herself, she tumbled back into the embrace.

After all, she was a full-grown person with real weight. Song Qingre's heels shuffled backward as she blinked. "Qiuqiu, how did you..."

Yan Qingqiu felt like she was about to say "walk right into my trap," but Song Qingre phrased it more elegantly: "How could you be so careless? Qiu Bao."

Her ears burned. This was it. Her legs were about to give out.

Yan Qingqiu tried to straighten up, but the harder she tried, the softer her body got, the less steady she became. She bumped into Song Qingre several times in a row, and Song Qingre reached out to steady her waist. Yan Qingqiu was mortified. She looked at Song Qingre, her heart full of guilt, her face flushed, and her mouth stubborn as ever: "It's not carelessness. It's that a strong A likes to throw herself into embraces."