Chapter 14: It tastes awful

Liu Qiu was quiet and reserved most of the time—Song Ciyu knew that well.

So she would often, without drawing attention to herself, admire the way Liu Qiu buried her head in her work.

Her gaze traced over Liu Qiu’s lips, the tip of her nose, her fingers, and the bones of her wrists again and again.

Her nose was delicate and small, her lips a pale pink that complemented her bloodless skin—just a gentle suck would likely make them flush a vivid red.

Her fingers were slender and beautiful, the fingertips faintly pink, her nails neatly trimmed and rounded. When she held the mouse, the knuckles protruded slightly, pale blue veins faintly visible on the back of her hand. There was something fragile and almost sickly about them—hands that seemed perfect for toying with.

Song Ciyu tapped the tip of her fountain pen lightly against the desk, but it failed to draw even the slightest reaction from Liu Qiu.

She was truly completely immersed in her work.

A dull and fragile alpha, with a thin body and negligible strength—like an ant that could be crushed underfoot at any moment.

In truth, Song Ciyu could easily use her power to pressure others. But that would be no fun.

She preferred watching her prey fall into the net without ever realizing it.

At eleven o’clock, it was lunchtime.

The pretty omega came looking for her again.

“Director Song, can we have lunch together today?” the little omega asked in a sweet, coquettish voice, her pursuit obvious.

Liu Qiu sneaked a glance toward Song Ciyu, silently hoping she wouldn’t have to eat with her today.

Song Ciyu noticed that fleeting look. “Mm, sure.”

Zhou Yue broke into a bright smile. “That’s great.” As expected, no alpha could refuse an omega’s request—not even a superior alpha like Director Song.

Song Ciyu nodded lightly, then looked at Liu Qiu, her brows softening. “Liu Qiu, will you be alright having lunch by yourself today?”

Liu Qiu nodded blankly. Why was she asking her? They hadn’t agreed to eat together in the first place.

Song Ciyu’s change in attitude was too obvious—strictly businesslike toward Zhou Yue, yet so gentle toward Liu Qiu. Zhou Yue felt even more jealous.

She had already heard the gossip: Liu Qiu had a very beautiful beta wife at home, and that wife had even driven her to work this morning. Yet Liu Qiu still shamelessly tried to flirt with Director Song. Disgusting.

The sound of their footsteps gradually faded. Liu Qiu stood up unhurriedly, tidied up a little, and headed toward the cafeteria.

Meanwhile, Zhou Yue stole glances at Song Ciyu as they walked, her eyes full of shy admiration.

Director Song was truly captivating—she even agreed to a mere intern’s request.

In a soft voice, Zhou Yue said, “D-Director Song, I’m really sorry about last time. I didn’t mean to throw that thing at you.”

Song Ciyu kept her gaze forward. When she heard Zhou Yue’s words, she looked at her and replied softly, “I know.” There was the faintest trace of a smile in her tone, and perhaps even in her deep eyes.

Zhou Yue was mesmerized by that look. For a moment, she even felt that Song Ciyu liked her too.

Joy flooded her heart. She lowered her head shyly, a blush spreading across her cheeks.

Song Ciyu stared at her steadily, her expression unchanged. “The person you wanted to hit was Liu Qiu.”

In an instant, the redness drained from Zhou Yue’s face, leaving it pale. She looked up at Song Ciyu in shock and instinctively tried to explain. “No, I just almost fell, so…” Her voice grew smaller and smaller. Under Song Ciyu’s gaze, her ugly thoughts had nowhere to hide. Her lie felt like a thin membrane that could be pierced at any moment.

Song Ciyu let out a low laugh. “Zhou Yue, I don’t want to see something like that happen again.” The smile faded from her lips, and the pressure around her suddenly dropped. “It would make me angry.”

Her eyes were so dark that not a trace of light could penetrate them. Zhou Yue trembled uncontrollably, a biting chill running through her.

Her eyes reddened as she stammered, “I—I won’t. I really won’t.”

Song Ciyu turned and walked forward. “Let’s go eat.” She sounded calm, as though nothing had just happened.

People like Zhou Yue were easy to understand. The warning would only increase the resentment in her heart toward Liu Qiu.

Zhou Yue would never think she had done anything wrong. That was a common flaw among pampered omegas—arrogance and self-importance—and Song Ciyu had taken advantage of it.

And indeed, her guess was entirely correct. Zhou Yue did not reflect on her actions at all. Instead, she believed that if Liu Qiu hadn’t seduced Song Ciyu, Song Ciyu wouldn’t have warned her.

Liu Qiu, of course, had no idea what had transpired between the two.

After lunch, she returned to the office. In the afternoon, she was once again the only one there. Song Ciyu truly was busy—she wasn’t the type to slack off at work.

No wonder the system had labeled her a “high-quality green hat.”

Capable, wealthy, beautiful, emotionally stable—seemingly flawless.

Compared to her, someone like Shi Ran was reduced to nothing.

If Bai Qingqing and Song Ciyu got together, it would almost make sense.

The moment that thought crossed her mind, Liu Qiu smacked her own forehead. Had she lost her mind? Song Ciyu getting involved with a married woman, and she thought that was normal?

Sure enough, staying too long in an abnormal environment made one abnormal too.

She muddled through the rest of the day and finally made it to the end of work. No matter how exhausted she was now, she didn’t dare fall asleep again.

That unreliable system—if she trusted it again, she’d be a dog.

As soon as she left the company building, Liu Qiu called Bai Qingqing. The phone rang until it stopped, unanswered.

She didn’t care. She had done what Bai Qingqing asked of her; whether Bai Qingqing answered was no longer her responsibility.

Just as she was about to put her phone away, a text message from an unknown number came in.

—Liu Qiu, I’m back.

She only glanced at it casually and didn’t take it to heart.

When she returned home, Bai Qingqing was nowhere to be seen. There was only a small note on the table.

—Qiuqiu, I’m going out for a few days.

No explanation. No destination mentioned.

Liu Qiu couldn’t help complaining to the system. [Bai Qingqing really doesn’t care about the original host at all.]

[Is this even what married partners are like?]

The system replied faintly, [It’s better this way. If she liked the original host, there wouldn’t be any green hats.]

Liu Qiu sighed. She just felt the original host was pitiful. But feelings couldn’t be forced—one willing to beat, one willing to endure.

Time flew by, and soon it was Sunday—the day she had arranged with Song Ciyu. Bai Qingqing still hadn’t returned.

Liu Qiu’s cooking skills were limited to “won’t kill anyone.” Seeing the message from Song Ciyu saying she would arrive at noon, and noting that it was already ten-thirty, Liu Qiu braced herself and began preparing the ingredients.

She had considered ordering takeout, but she was strapped for cash. The original host had handed over her salary completely.

At exactly twelve, the doorbell rang. Liu Qiu wiped her hands on her apron and jogged to open the door.

Outside stood Song Ciyu, dressed in a wine-red silk V-neck blouse and a black leather skirt. In her left hand were two exquisitely wrapped gift boxes; in her right, a bottle of red wine. She stood tall and straight—her height alone was intimidating.

Liu Qiu stepped aside and said softly, “Director Song, please come in.”

She led her to the sofa, feeling awkward. “Director Song, would you like some water?”

Song Ciyu placed the gift boxes on the coffee table, her gaze sweeping over Liu Qiu’s nervously fidgeting fingers. She nodded lightly. “Thank you.”

Liu Qiu quickly poured her a cup of water in a paper cup.

“Is your wife not home today?” Song Ciyu asked.

Liu Qiu set down the cup and straightened up. “She went traveling,” she said quietly.

A faint flicker passed through Song Ciyu’s eyes, but she didn’t pursue the topic. Instead, she pushed the gifts and the wine toward Liu Qiu. “These are for you and your wife. Also, an apology for not being considerate last time.”

Liu Qiu knew what she meant—the teasing from Song Ciyu’s friend at the office that day.

She pressed her lips together slightly. The gifts looked expensive. She couldn’t accept them.

She shook her head nervously. “Director Song, I—I can’t take them. Nothing really happened that day.”

Song Ciyu replied, “It’s not working hours now. You don’t have to call me Director.”

“Call me by my name. Or Sister Ciyu.” Her tone was unhurried but carried an unmistakable dominance.

Liu Qiu parted her lips, about to speak, when Song Ciyu added, “Or would you prefer I call you ‘big sister’?”

“Big Sister Liu Qiu? Hmm?”

Startled, Liu Qiu shook her head hastily. “N-No, I’ll go—I’ll go finish up.”

[System, don’t you think Song Ciyu is a bit strange?]

[Not at all,] the system replied. [Host, you overthink things. She’s coveting your wife—of course she’ll try to get closer to you.]

[More importantly, don’t you think your cooking is a bit… embarrassing?]

Liu Qiu looked down at the slightly charred fried egg and silently turned off the stove before plating it.

[I already tried very hard not to burn it.]

When she carried the last dish to the table, she realized that all four dishes were burnt to some degree.

[System, can you give me some RMB?] She really didn’t want Song Ciyu to see this.

[Sorry, host. I don’t have money either.]

Liu Qiu sighed inwardly. Next month, when her salary came, she would keep some for herself.

“Liu Qiu, what are you thinking about?” The voice beside her snapped her back to reality. She looked up, curling her toes in embarrassment. “N-Nothing.”

Song Ciyu glanced at the dark, almost black dishes on the table, a hint of amusement flashing through her eyes.

She sat down. “They look… unique. May I eat? I’m a bit hungry.”

“Y-Yes.” Liu Qiu lowered her head shyly, her ears tinged red—this time, genuinely embarrassed.

The system muttered sarcastically, [High EQ: they look unique. Low EQ: they look inedible.]

[…Shut up!]

Song Ciyu picked up a bite and placed it in her mouth, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Liu Qiu secretly watched her expressionless face and then took a bite herself. The first taste was bitter from being burnt, followed by a saltiness so intense it numbed her tongue.

With her head lowered, trusting that Song Ciyu couldn’t see her face, Liu Qiu’s expression twisted for a brief second. It was awful.

She swallowed with difficulty and looked up—only to find Song Ciyu’s gaze fixed firmly on her.

Adjusting her glasses, Liu Qiu stood up and brought over the red wine Song Ciyu had brought. “Director Song, let’s drink this instead.”

Song Ciyu did not refuse. “Alright.”

Liu Qiu’s thought was simple: if she got drunk, she wouldn’t have to entertain Song Ciyu anymore. And seeing her drunk, Song Ciyu would probably not stay long.