Chapter 9: That’s so shameful!

After missing work for a full week, Liu Qiu felt a faint but persistent sense of awkwardness.
Especially since she worked directly under a superior.

She arrived a bit early—there were still ten minutes before work started—and stopped outside Song Ciyu’s office.
She opened the door, poked her head in first, and only after confirming that Song Ciyu hadn’t arrived yet did she step inside.

No matter how she thought about it, an employee working inside their superior’s office felt strange.

Sitting down at her desk, Liu Qiu turned on the computer.
The bright white screen was a little harsh, making her eyes feel swollen and sore.

From the moment she woke up today, the exhaustion in her body hadn’t faded at all.
It pressed down on her mind, leaving her slightly dizzy and unfocused.

Her head felt heavy while her feet felt light.
Liu Qiu frowned. ‘Is this the aftereffect of an estrus period?’
Terrifying.

Since it wasn’t work time yet, she simply searched up information about secondary genders.

—If an alpha touches an omega’s gland without the omega’s conscious consent, it constitutes harassment.
—The intertwining of alpha and omega pheromones counts as flirting.
—Forced marking is inadvisable; it will harm the omega.

There was too much to read.
Liu Qiu’s eyes started to ache.

Click.

The office door opened.

Liu Qiu quickly closed the search page and opened her work software instead.

Song Ciyu stepped in on high heels, wearing a fitted black dress.
Her long hair was secured at the back of her head with a wooden hairpin, elegant and intellectual.

Liu Qiu sneaked a glance at her—only to be caught red-handed.

Song Ciyu raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Liu Qiu, your estrus period is over?”

Liu Qiu’s fingers dug awkwardly into the side of her thigh.
Why would Song Ciyu bring up her estrus period the moment she walked in?
Wasn’t that supposed to be a very private matter?

Liu Qiu nodded slowly and answered in a small voice, “It’s over.”

Song Ciyu inclined her head faintly, walked over to her desk, set down the documents in her hand, and then brewed two cups of coffee.

The rich, bitter aroma quickly spread through the office.

Holding both cups, Song Ciyu placed one of them on Liu Qiu’s desk.

Liu Qiu’s fingers tightened slightly around the mouse.
This coffee was bitter—she didn’t like it at all.

But since Song Ciyu personally set it in front of her, she couldn’t exactly refuse.

Song Ciyu took a light sip from her own cup, her voice low and magnetic.
“Liu Qiu, what kind of things do you and your wife like?”

“Last time I went empty-handed. Thinking back, that was rather impolite of me.”

Liu Qiu didn’t lift her head, but she still replied, “I don’t know.”
There was no such memory in the original owner’s mind—she genuinely had no idea.

Song Ciyu even thought to bring a gift.
It really seemed like she was determined to win Bai Qingqing over.

Song Ciyu’s gaze darkened slightly.
“I thought we were friends, Liu Qiu.”

“But it seems I was the only one who thought so.”

Liu Qiu lifted her head a little, lips parting as she stammered, “N-no, Director Song… My wife doesn’t have anything she particularly likes.”

Song Ciyu set down her coffee, braced both hands on the desk, and leaned forward, completely enveloping Liu Qiu beneath her presence.
Her thin lips curved upward, and her low, deep voice was especially pleasant to the ear.

“Then what do you like?”

The sound sent a faint numbness through Liu Qiu’s ears.
Song Ciyu’s gaze was deep—like a whirlpool—and for some reason, Liu Qiu felt as though she were being stripped bare.

Avoiding her eyes, Liu Qiu muttered, “I don’t have anything I like.”

Dull.
Wooden.
Dressed in outdated clothes.
Who knew what she was like in bed.

Song Ciyu’s eyelashes fluttered slightly.
She could smell Liu Qiu’s pheromones—very faint, a thin hint of mint, and nothing else.
Liu Qiu’s wife was a beta and couldn’t leave any pheromones behind at all.

As an alpha herself, this kind of scent repelled her—yet she still wanted to keep breathing it in.

Like a pervert, resisting and craving at the same time.

Straightening up, Song Ciyu picked up her coffee again and returned to her seat.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to say.”
“I won’t be angry.”

People without money always ended up liking expensive things, after all.

“Just do your work.”

With that final sentence, the conversation ended, and the office fell quiet.

Liu Qiu’s job consisted of spacing out.
Her hands would move on their own.

Time passed painfully slowly, and Liu Qiu couldn’t stand it anymore—she started chatting with the system in her head.

[System, what do you do every day?]

The system replied, [Watch TV, play games, and supervise you so you don’t accidentally destroy the original character setup and get beaten until your soul scatters.]

Liu Qiu was speechless.
The system really lived a carefree life.

[Hey, besides chatting with me, do you have any other functions?]

A creaking sound echoed in her mind, followed by the system’s slightly static mechanical voice.
[I can also scan and analyze the components of objects.]

[Oh, right—you can watch TV with me too. Want to?]

Liu Qiu instantly perked up.
[Yes, yes!]

As soon as she said it, a rectangular frame—almost half the size of a monitor—suddenly appeared before her eyes.
It looked a lot like a character panel, except it was displaying moving images.

She could really watch TV!

The sun rose high into the sky.

Song Ciyu’s office door opened and closed repeatedly.
Everyone who stepped in would instinctively glance first at Liu Qiu with her thick glasses, their disdain obvious.

But Liu Qiu was completely absorbed in her show and didn’t notice those malicious looks at all.

[I told you that person was the killer! I guessed it right!]

The system scoffed.
[Just wait, there’ll definitely be a twist later.]

From Song Ciyu’s perspective, Liu Qiu appeared gloomy and silent, buried in her work, never sparing her even a glance.

No matter who came into the office, no matter how blatant their hostile stares were, Liu Qiu seemed trapped in her own narrow little world, cutting herself off from everything outside.

Was she too timid to face it—or simply too careless to mind?

Song Ciyu leaned toward the former.

Liu Qiu was far too easy to read.

“Director Song… c-can we have lunch together today?”

Standing before her was a delicate omega, petite with fair skin, her eyes filled with admiration.

Interns fresh out of school were always easy to understand—liking written plainly in their eyes, desire plastered across their faces.

Song Ciyu had seen this look too many times.
It stirred nothing in her heart anymore.

She declined politely.
“Sorry, Xiao Zhou. I already made plans to have lunch with Liu Qiu.”

The pretty omega frowned in disappointment, looking genuinely pitiful.

“Maybe next time, when I’m free,” Song Ciyu added casually.

That single sentence immediately brought a smile back to the omega’s face.

“You’re so nice, Director Song!”

Song Ciyu didn’t even bother smiling, yet she always managed to win people over with just a few words.

Her peripheral vision never left Liu Qiu.
Their voices weren’t quiet, yet Liu Qiu acted as though she hadn’t heard a thing.

The intern left with light, cheerful steps.

Song Ciyu stood and walked over to Liu Qiu, lowering her gaze slightly.
Her voice was gentle and unhurried.

“Liu Qiu, it’s lunchtime.”

Liu Qiu snapped back to her senses and checked the time.
It was already eleven.
The drama the system showed her was too addictive—she hadn’t even noticed when Song Ciyu came over.

She hurriedly stood up, saying timidly, “Th-then… Director Song, I’ll head out first.”

Song Ciyu’s gaze fell on the cold coffee.
“You don’t like coffee?”

“You didn’t take a single sip.”

Liu Qiu’s pale pink lips parted slightly.
She didn’t understand how the topic suddenly turned to coffee, but she gently shook her head and replied softly, “I drank a little.”

As she said that, she unconsciously held up her fingers to show “a little.”

Realizing the gesture was childish—and kind of broke her character—she quickly withdrew her hand.
A faint blush crept over her pale skin.

Liu Qiu had thin skin; her emotions showed easily on her face.
She didn’t realize how shy she looked with her flushed cheeks.

Fidgeting with the hem of her clothes, she lowered her voice.
“Director Song, you don’t need to make coffee for me next time.”

It was really bitter. She couldn’t drink it at all.

Besides, wasn’t Song Ciyu being a bit too helpful?
A superior making coffee for a subordinate—what was that about?

Once might be fine.
But this was already the second time.

Song Ciyu reached out, picked up the cooled coffee, and—under Liu Qiu’s gaze—took a small sip.

Liu Qiu’s eyes widened immediately.
She asked weakly, “D-Director Song… is that coffee very expensive?”

It was already cold, yet she still drank it.

A dark gleam flashed through Song Ciyu’s deep eyes.
She set the mug back down and stared at Liu Qiu’s pale pink lips.

“Perhaps,” she said flatly.

Before Liu Qiu could process what perhaps meant, Song Ciyu added, “Let’s go eat together.”

Liu Qiu didn’t know how to refuse.

Walking beside Song Ciyu, Liu Qiu attracted countless gazes.

Malice.
Mockery.
Jealousy.

She felt the urge to scratch her head.
Why were they jealous of her?
She was an alpha.

And a married one, at that.

She chose to ignore those looks and lowered her head to eat.

But as she ate, an extra chicken leg appeared on her tray.

Liu Qiu stared blankly at Song Ciyu.

“You seem to really like chicken legs,” Song Ciyu said.

Hearing the words chicken leg come out of Song Ciyu’s mouth felt oddly strange.

Liu Qiu couldn’t help asking the system, [Target One seems—]

The system cut her off immediately.
[She’s interested in your wife, of course she has to treat you better so she can visit your place anytime.]

[Just eat it. You may be the protagonist, but you’re the one getting cuckolded.]

[And with how useless, poor, and timid you look right now, who’d ever like you?]

Liu Qiu fell silent.

The system made a disturbingly good point.

She set aside that strange feeling and gnawed happily on the chicken leg.

So good!

Song Ciyu’s gaze stayed fixed on Liu Qiu the entire time.
She kept imagining what Liu Qiu would look like when being taken apart.

Would those misty puppy eyes cry until they were a mess?

Would an alpha feel anything when being done like that?
Pain—or something else?

Her fingers tapped lightly on the table.

“Liu Qiu,” Song Ciyu said softly, “do you think there are alphas who like being checked?”

Liu Qiu almost jumped out of her seat.

Did she really have to be this blunt?!

And in public, no less!

Liu Qiu’s face turned completely red, her neck following suit.
She stiffly shook her head and stammered, “I—I don’t know.”

“I thought you might,” Song Ciyu murmured.

The words were so light they sounded like she was talking to herself.
Liu Qiu didn’t hear them clearly—and didn’t want to ask either.
It didn’t sound like anything good.

Song Ciyu looked at Liu Qiu’s flushed cheeks and exposed neck, her gaze unreadable.
She wiped her lips with a napkin, stood up, and said, “I’m going to the restroom. You don’t need to wait for me.”

The sound of her heels faded into the distance.

Liu Qiu finally let out a breath of relief.

Checking or not—just thinking about it was mortifying!