Chapter 10: Annoying

No matter where it is, as long as there are enough people, a miniature society will inevitably form.

After Song Ciyu left, the surrounding voices grew noticeably louder.

“What an annoying person. I went to ask Director Song to have lunch with me, and Liu Qiu snatched the chance first.”

“She’s already married and an alpha, yet she still dares to seduce Director Song, who’s also an alpha. Absolutely disgusting.”
The voice was sweet, so the words didn’t sound quite as sharp, but no matter how pleasant the tone was, Liu Qiu couldn’t ignore that she was being called a pervert.

Liu Qiu tilted her head slightly and looked toward the neighboring table, meeting the gaze of a girl with a pure, innocent-looking face.

[System, who is she? Does the original owner know her?]

The system replied lazily, [No idea, but she’s an omega.]

The system didn’t need to say it—Liu Qiu could tell.
The girl was about the same height as her, slender and delicate, clearly not an alpha.

When the omega noticed Liu Qiu looking over, her expression filled with disgust.
“What are you looking at?!”

The omega wasn’t afraid of Liu Qiu at all.
Even though she was just an intern, she was a rare omega—most people would accommodate her.

Liu Qiu silently withdrew her gaze, lowered her head, and continued eating.
She’d better finish quickly and go back to the office.

No one in this company liked her.

“Look at how timid she is. I didn’t even glare at her and she already shrank back. Ugly and poor—so annoying!”
It was still that omega’s voice.

The person eating with her chimed in, “Xiao Zhou, don’t bother with her. Liu Qiu’s personality is weird and withdrawn. You could talk to her for ages and she still wouldn’t respond.”

Liu Qiu picked up the chicken leg Song Ciyu had given her and gnawed on the remaining half.
Because it was a bit big, she had to hold one end with her other hand.

Her body was thin, her skin pale.
Her exposed wrist showed prominent bones, sharp and almost prettily defined.

From not far away, Song Ciyu took all of this in.

She didn’t rush over.
That intern had a rather spoiled temperament—she definitely wouldn’t stop at just verbal insults.

Just as Song Ciyu expected, Liu Qiu’s timid reaction stirred something malicious in the omega’s heart.

She was an omega.
Bullying a low-quality alpha wouldn’t earn her any blame—if she cried a little, she’d be forgiven anyway.

After Liu Qiu finished the chicken leg, she started wiping her hands with a napkin.
Halfway through, the light beside her was suddenly blocked.

Her hand paused.
She slowly lifted her head, confusion flickering in her eyes behind her thick glasses.
What did this omega want?

Zhou Yue sneered coldly.
“Liu Qiu, don’t you think you’re shameless?”

“Seducing Director Song, who’s also an alpha. Someone as perfect as Director Song isn’t someone like you should ever defile.”

A huge question mark popped up in Liu Qiu’s mind.
She and Song Ciyu were both alphas—how could this omega think she was seducing her?

Could alphas not be friends with other alphas?

Liu Qiu stood up, picked up her tray, and ignored Zhou Yue, walking off from the other side to put the dirty dishes away.

Zhou Yue stared at her back, then grabbed her own tray and hurried after her.

Liu Qiu spotted Song Ciyu walking toward her from ahead.
She hesitated over whether to greet her when a sudden cry rang out from behind.

“Ah—watch out! Move!”

Liu Qiu didn’t even have time to turn her head.
Her wrist tightened, and the tray fell to the ground.

Her vision spun as she was pulled into Song Ciyu’s arms, fingers gripping firmly at the back of her neck.

“Clang!”

The tray crashed heavily onto the floor, the sharp sound echoing through the space.

The entire cafeteria seemed to fall silent, making the noise even more jarring.

Zhou Yue’s face turned deathly pale.
“T-Director Song, are you—are you okay?”
She had splashed food all over Song Ciyu.

Song Ciyu held Liu Qiu by the neck, her voice steady and emotionless.
“I’m fine. Be more careful next time you walk.”

She wasn’t scolded.
Zhou Yue let out a small sigh of relief, her gaze toward Song Ciyu filling with even more adoration—along with deeper resentment toward Liu Qiu.

Disgusting, inferior alpha.
Clinging to Director Song’s arms and refusing to come out.

Zhou Yue leaned closer, feigning concern.
“Director Song, should I accompany you to change your clothes?”

Song Ciyu shook her head.
“No need.”

Liu Qiu was pressed against Song Ciyu’s chest.
The scent of tulips flooded her senses, making her chest feel tight and sending goosebumps across her skin.

And Song Ciyu’s hand was still pressing against the back of her neck—the place where alpha and omega glands were located.

It was extremely sensitive.

For the first time, Liu Qiu truly felt the impact of an alpha’s pheromones.
So alphas really did instinctively reject pheromones from the same gender.

Her already uncomfortable body felt even worse.

She tugged awkwardly at the fabric around Song Ciyu’s waist and said in a muffled voice, “D-Director Song… you can let go now.”

She was released.

Liu Qiu whispered, “Thank you.”

Song Ciyu hummed softly.
“Let’s leave here first.”

With that, she stepped forward.

Liu Qiu noticed the food stains on Song Ciyu’s back and quietly followed her.

Left behind, Zhou Yue hated Liu Qiu to the core.

It would’ve been one thing if she’d spilled the food on Liu Qiu—but instead, it got on Director Song.
Even though Director Song didn’t blame her, Zhou Yue still felt furious.

It was all Liu Qiu’s fault for blocking her view, causing her to make such a huge mistake in front of Director Song.

New hatred piled onto old grudges.
Zhou Yue clenched her teeth, vowing that next time, she’d make Liu Qiu pay.

---

Liu Qiu followed Song Ciyu to the restroom entrance.

Song Ciyu asked, “Liu Qiu, are you going to the restroom too?”

Liu Qiu shook her head, hesitated for a moment, then said softly, “Director… your back—”

Song Ciyu cut her off.
“I helped you again, Liu Qiu.”

Liu Qiu parted her lips, murmuring, “…Thank you.”

Song Ciyu’s voice lowered.
“Just ‘thank you’?”

The system got more excited than Liu Qiu herself.
[Quick! Invite her to your house!]

Not wanting to disappoint the system, Liu Qiu fidgeted with her fingers and said hesitantly, “Th-then… I’ll treat Director Song to a meal.”

“Can we eat at my place?”

A blush spread across Liu Qiu’s cheeks as she said awkwardly, “I gave all my salary to my wife.”
Which meant she had no money to treat her elsewhere.

Song Ciyu’s eyes darkened, her brows knitting slightly as she considered it.
After about a minute, she said slowly, “That’s fine. I was planning to visit anyway.”

“My friend upset you last time. I’m sorry about that.”

“But I’ll come on my day off. Is that okay?”

Liu Qiu fell silent, then answered quietly, “…Okay.”

Song Ciyu gave a faint hum and turned toward the restroom.
“Liu Qiu, if you’re not using the restroom, you can go rest. You don’t need to keep following me.”

It sounded a bit like she was dismissing her.
Liu Qiu responded softly and left.

Her footsteps faded away.

Standing at the sink, Song Ciyu looked at herself in the mirror and silently curved her lips.
She lifted the hand that had held the back of Liu Qiu’s neck and brought it to her nose, inhaling lightly.

A faint minty scent filled her senses.

Song Ciyu slowly closed her eyes as powerful pheromones spread through the space.

Occasionally, alphas passing by the restroom would be suppressed by the aura, unable to approach.

---

After parting ways at the restroom, Liu Qiu didn’t see Song Ciyu again.
She seemed to have gone on a business trip.

Alone in the office, Liu Qiu openly had the system play shows for her.

Her hands didn’t stop working at the same time.

Low efficiency—but steady progress.

By around four in the afternoon, Liu Qiu was unbearably sleepy.

Her body was already exhausted, yet she’d forced herself to keep working until now.

Her eyelids fought fiercely.
She let out a huge yawn and couldn’t help saying, [System, can you keep watch for me? Wake me up if someone comes in.]

[I’m so tired. I feel like I’ll fall asleep the moment I close my eyes.]

The system pitied its host for about three seconds.
Knowing everything she’d been through, it was only natural that she was exhausted.

[Sleep. I’ll keep watch.]

In reality, by the time work hours ended, no one came to the office at all.

Night deepened.

Liu Qiu woke up groggily from her sleep.

[System, what time is it?]

[I’m gaming. Check it yourself.]

Rubbing her eyes, Liu Qiu put on her glasses and glanced at the screen—instantly wide awake.

Ten p.m.

Oh no.
The building’s main doors closed at eight.

[System! Why didn’t you wake me up? It’s already ten!]

The system replied sheepishly, [You were sleeping so soundly.]
In truth, it had gotten too absorbed in gaming and lost track of time.

Liu Qiu slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried out, only to find that the building’s main power had already been shut off.
Everything around her was pitch black.

Staring at the dark corridor, her body began to tremble.

She had a weakness—she was afraid of ghosts, and afraid of the dark.

She turned on her phone’s flashlight, but the weak beam couldn’t illuminate very far.

[System… are you there?]

[I’m here.]

Liu Qiu bit her lip and forced herself forward when a sudden ringtone rang out.

Her heart jumped, tears nearly spilling from the fright.

[System, I’m scared to answer it.]

The original owner barely had any friends—who would call her at ten at night?
And her wife didn’t care about her either. She definitely wouldn’t be calling.

The system realized its host was afraid.
[Host, don’t be scared. There are no ghosts in this world.]

That reassurance didn’t erase her fear, but Liu Qiu still decided to answer.

She picked up her phone and looked at the caller ID—then froze.

It was Bai Qingqing.

She answered.

She didn’t know if it was her imagination, but Bai Qingqing’s voice coming through the phone sounded eerily cold.

“Qiūqiū, it’s so late. Why aren’t you home yet? Where did you go?”

Liu Qiu gripped her phone tightly, her voice trembling and hoarse from sleep, tinged with tears.
“W-wife, I—”

Before she could finish, the call went silent.
Completely silent—no breathing, nothing.

The flashlight went out.

The phone powered off.

Only hazy moonlight and distant streetlights filtered in through the windows, unable to illuminate the oppressive darkness.

Then something worse happened.

Rain poured down suddenly, heavy drops slapping loudly against the windows.

[System! This is all your fault!]

The system had nothing to say.
It really was.

With stiff steps, Liu Qiu returned to the office.
She could only sleep here for the night.

Feeling her way through the darkness, she sat down at her desk, took off her glasses, buried her face in her arms, and forced her eyes shut.

She’d just woken up—there was no way she could fall asleep again.
Her mind was far too alert.

[S-System… do you have any way to knock me out?]
If she slept through to morning, everything would be fine.

The system hesitated.
[There is… but it involves electrocuting you unconscious.]

Liu Qiu’s vision darkened.
That sounded unbearably painful.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps in the corridor.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of high heels striking the floor.

Her face drained of color in an instant, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.

Why was there someone here?
Maybe… not even a person—

Click.

The door opened.

Liu Qiu curled into herself, trembling helplessly.

[System! There’s a ghost—]

A beam of light suddenly shone on her, and a magnetic, pleasant voice echoed through the silent space.

“Liu Qiu?”

It was Song Ciyu!

Liu Qiu jerked her head up, tears streaming as the bright light stung her eyes.

“D-Director Song…”

Song Ciyu walked over.
“Next time, go home earlier after work.”

Liu Qiu didn’t answer—she just kept crying, overwhelmed with grievance.

Song Ciyu looked at her deeply, then went to her desk, opened a drawer, took out some documents, and returned to Liu Qiu’s side.

“Do you want to leave together?” she asked softly.

Liu Qiu lowered her head, her voice trembling, pitiful beyond words.
“Director… m-my legs are weak. I can’t walk.”

Song Ciyu reached out and wrapped an arm around Liu Qiu’s waist, bending closer.
“Hold onto my neck.”

Liu Qiu obeyed.
Her hands touched Song Ciyu’s warm body, and she no longer cared about maintaining her persona.
She buried her face tightly against Song Ciyu’s neck and shoulder, silently crying.

She had almost been scared to death.

Song Ciyu held firmly to Liu Qiu’s thigh, keeping her securely against herself, and carried her to the stairwell.

Alphas were naturally strong.
Elite alphas even more so.

Song Ciyu carried Liu Qiu effortlessly down to the ground floor.
Feeling the weight and warmth in her arms, her gland gradually began to heat up.

In a hoarse voice, she said, “Liu Qiu, we’re here.”

Liu Qiu’s chest felt tight, her head dizzy.
The overwhelming scent of tulips flooded her nose, making her instinctively reject it—it was too strong, as if it wanted to cling to her entire body.

When Liu Qiu didn’t respond, Song Ciyu patiently repeated, “Liu Qiu, we’re on the first floor.”

Liu Qiu lifted her head from Song Ciyu’s strangely hot neck and looked around.
It was much brighter here.
Seeing the “1F” sign, she blinked, still dazed.

Song Ciyu had carried her down the stairs—how had they gone from the seventh floor to the first so quickly?

Suddenly, a soft voice called out from behind.

“Qiūqiū.”

[ Ding. Green Hat Value +10 ]

The progress bar moved.

Liu Qiu turned her head.
Through her blurry vision, she saw a figure in a white dress.

[ Ding. Green Hat Value +10 ]

A faintly cold smile curved Bai Qingqing’s lips.
Her bewitching, beautiful face under the night light looked like a soul-stealing ghost.

“Qiūqiū, not coming home at night isn’t a very good habit.”

Her gaze fell on Liu Qiu’s moist eyes, her lips marked faintly by teeth, and her long legs tightly wrapped around Song Ciyu’s waist.

Her eyes darkened further, letting in no light at all.

Liu Qiu had been so frightened earlier that she’d completely forgotten to put on her glasses.
She couldn’t see the woman’s face clearly, but she was certain—it was Bai Qingqing.

She quickly climbed down from Song Ciyu, the lingering fear still affecting her.
Walking over to Bai Qingqing, she said softly, “W-wife… I got locked inside the company.”

“Director Song brought me out.”

“I didn’t mean to come home late.”

The warmth in Song Ciyu’s arms disappeared, leaving only a trace of mint.

Song Ciyu inclined her head slightly.
“Miss Bai, that’s what happened.”

Liu Qiu tugged at Bai Qingqing’s hem.
“Wife, let’s go home. I’m really hungry.”

Under the dim light, Bai Qingqing’s face looked chillingly cold.
Liu Qiu couldn’t see it clearly—but Song Ciyu could.

Song Ciyu said, “Miss Bai, Liu Qiu and I didn’t do anything.”

Hearing that, Liu Qiu gave Song Ciyu a mental thumbs-up.
Well done—she knew to explain.

Otherwise, if Bai Qingqing misunderstood, how was Song Ciyu supposed to wear that green hat?

Liu Qiu’s thinking was simple; she didn’t consider things deeply.
She didn’t realize that explaining only made things look more suspicious.

Song Ciyu’s words clearly deepened Bai Qingqing’s misunderstanding.

Liu Qiu nodded hard, frowning slightly.
Her round, misty eyes were damp, her pale pink lips softly puffed, looking extremely kissable.

“Wife, let’s go home.”

Bai Qingqing smiled gently, but slapped Liu Qiu’s hand away from her clothes.
Her tone was sweet and intimate, yet her words were not.

“Qiūqiū, how many times have I told you? You need my permission before touching me.”

Outside, the rain continued to fall, drizzle tapping softly as cold wind carried a chill.

Liu Qiu slowly withdrew her hand and placed it behind her back, her voice lowering.

“I’m sorry, wife.”

“I—I didn’t mean to.”