Chapter 8

Before her mother got into trouble, Liu Ran’s family could be considered somewhat well-off, and they had bought furniture that cost tens of thousands.

But a sofa worth seven figures was still beyond her understanding.

However, thinking back to how Ming Siyu had signed off on twenty-five million without batting an eye when she bought her, this sofa was nothing to Ming Siyu.

She suddenly understood a bit why Ming Siyu treated her so indifferently—play with her until she broke, then swap her out for the next one. Unlike her previous buyer, who at least somewhat considered the money they’d spent.

Because in Ming Siyu’s eyes, she was only worth about nine sets of such sofas.

As her heart felt stifled and lonely, Liu Ran sensed several gazes falling on her. She reflexively flattened her ears, tucked in her tail, and looked toward the source of the stares.

It was those sofa installers, staring at her with strange looks. Those gazes were like thorns; Liu Ran felt as if she’d plunged into an ice cave, her chest aching with each heartbeat.

A wolf’s ears were several times more sensitive than human ones. The whispers drifted into her ears.

“She’s so weird; those ears look just like the real thing.”

“Yeah, I thought they were fake at first, but they seemed to move just now.”

“Have you heard of people fused with animal genes? I installed furniture at a client’s home before, and they had one. While I was working, the client hugged her and pinched her tail—she cried with each pinch and meowed, but I didn’t dare look too much.”

“The ways rich people play are beyond what us normal folks can imagine. Being their chicken or duck pays way better than being their ox or horse.”

…

The whispers were quiet, and Liu Ran was standing far away. The installers probably figured she couldn’t hear, so they chatted back and forth.

Her ears on top of her head and the tail behind her felt as if they’d been set on fire, the fur crackling and burning with a scorched smell, only to be plunged immediately into the icy seawater beneath polar floes. The salt and extreme cold sliced into the wounds scorched by flames.

On one side, phantom pain; on the other, like a medieval witch disguised as a passerby whose cloak was yanked off on the street, revealing her magic wand and black cat in her arms—her deadly secret exposed under the sunlight.

Hide. Don’t let anyone see.

Hide, and no one will discover she’s a freak.

In that instant, that was Liu Ran’s only thought.

She quickly ducked behind a pillar, flattening her ears as much as possible—even though it made the muscles around her ear cartilage ache unbearably. She grabbed her hair and used the strands to cover her wolf ears, trying to hide them completely.

Qi Zhen didn’t notice Little Wolf’s drooping ears or hear the workers’ quiet gossip. She brought over the clothes from Secretary Wen for Liu Ran to change into.

Liu Ran kept her head down and mumbled dully, “I don’t want to change.”

Qi Zhen thought she was sulking at Ming Siyu. Few people dared sulk at Ming Siyu; Liu Ran was like a newborn calf unafraid of tigers, not yet realizing how dangerous the situation was.

So she persuaded her, “These clothes are really nice, all high-end luxury pieces—a set costs tens of thousands. It’d be such a waste not to wear them.”

Liu Ran looked at the exquisitely tailored high-waisted fog-gray sleeveless suit dress and hesitated.

She thought, if she wore something like this, maybe others wouldn’t focus all their attention on her ears.

She took the dress and asked again, “Qi Zhen Jie, is there a hat?”

Qi Zhen said, “This dress doesn’t need to be paired with a hat.”

“But I want to wear one.”

Qi Zhen was startled by the wetness in her eyes and fetched her a baseball cap.

Once the workers finished installing the sofa and left, those gazes vanished, and Liu Ran breathed a sigh of relief. The clothes fit perfectly, but they weren’t her style. She preferred loose, comfortable outfits that felt free.

The hat pressed on her wolf ears a bit painfully, but Liu Ran had no intention of taking it off. Wearing the hat gave her a long-lost sense of ease. She finally calmed down enough to look at the newly installed sofa. Though the price was jaw-dropping, once set up, it matched the house perfectly, as if it had been custom-designed for the space.

The doorbell rang again. Qi Zhen ran to answer it. Standing outside was a slender, slim woman in a white tube top strap dress, with clavicle-grazing short hair and a pair of exaggerated tassel earrings. Upon discovering Ming Siyu wasn’t home, she strode right in and plopped down on the new sofa, propping up her legs casually as if it were her own home, without a care for her image.

Qi Zhen hurriedly poured her tea and cut fruit.

Ming Siwei ate a piece of watermelon before noticing Liu Ran in the corner.

She held her fork and raised a brow at Liu Ran, letting out a short “Ah.”

“You’re the new friend Sis Aiyu brought home, right?” Ming Siwei walked over and flashed Liu Ran a brilliant smile. “I’ve heard a little about you. I’m Aiyu’s little sister; my name’s Ming Siwei. You can call me Weiwei. You’re so pretty.”

The woman’s features did resemble Ming Siyu’s somewhat. But Ming Siwei was bold and radiant, with slightly round eyes that gave off a touch of naivety, while Ming Siyu’s brows always seemed to hold a faint gloom, making her look like a cunning old fox.

Liu Ran was a bit at a loss with Ming Siwei’s enthusiasm. The way Ming Siwei looked at her was completely normal, as if she had no idea about her wolf genes—no caution, no panic, no probing or disdain. Liu Ran hadn’t been looked at like a normal person in so long that she didn’t know how to react for a moment.

Ming Siwei’s form of address warmed her heart too—”the new friend Aiyu brought home.” Even though she wasn’t really Ming Siyu’s friend, the title gave her a long-lost sense of human dignity and the equality she deserved.

“Thank you.” Liu Ran thanked her softly. She felt adding her name after the thanks would make it more formal, so after thinking, she said solemnly, “Little President Ming.”

Ming Siwei was Ming Siyu’s sister, after all, and it was their first meeting—calling her Weiwei directly might be impolite. Ming Siyu was President Ming, so Ming Siwei probably held some position in the Group too; “Little President Ming” shouldn’t be wrong.

Unexpectedly, after hearing this, Ming Siwei covered her mouth and giggled.

“Ah Ran—you’re Liu Ran, right? I’ll call you Ah Ran from now on. Hehehe, whatever you do, don’t call me Little President Ming in front of Sis Aiyu; she’ll get mad.”

Ming Siwei laughed so hard she leaned back, not noticing the small staircase behind her. Her foot slipped, and she tumbled backward. Liu Ran immediately reached out and pulled her back.

After steadying herself, Ming Siwei stumbled forward a few steps. Her high heels nearly sent her tumbling into Liu Ran’s arms.

The two were a bit too close. Their breaths were confined to the narrow corner; Liu Ran awkwardly shifted aside to make space.

With a clatter, silverware hit the floor.

The French afternoon tea in Qi Zhen’s hands splattered a milk-brown painting across the ground.

She stared at the two for a brief stunned moment before immediately lowering her head, averting her eyes, and scrambling to clean up the mess.

Ming Siwei turned back and lightly scolded, “How could you be so careless?”

Qi Zhen, head down, replied, “Sorry, Miss Siwei.”

Liu Ran caught a hint of something off in Qi Zhen’s tone compared to usual, but she didn’t dwell on it because Ming Siwei blinked eagerly, drew close, and extended her hand. “Ah Ran, I came today to discuss something with Sis Aiyu, but she’s not here. I’ve cleared my afternoon early and have nothing planned now—nowhere to go. How about we chat together? Kill some time.”

Looking at the proffered hand, Liu Ran didn’t really want to take it deep down.

She instinctively resisted physical contact with anyone.

Meanwhile, in Ming Siyu’s office.

He Qiange lounged on the cloud-like sofa, chatting idly with Ming Siyu about the latest gossip in their circle.

Ming Siyu handled some non-urgent work at her computer. When she didn’t need full focus, she multitasked—like now, listening to He Qiange’s gossip and chiming in occasionally while browsing files that needed her attention and clearing messages on her phone.

An hour ago, Ming Siwei had messaged that she was coming over to discuss Old Madam Ming’s birthday banquet. Ming Siyu had just seen it; her brows furrowed in disgust. When would Ming Siwei fix this habit of showing up uninvited? Unless absolutely necessary, she hated unrelated people entering that house. She immediately messaged Qi Zhen to get Ming Siwei out ASAP.

He Qiange exclaimed, “Wow, Si Si, the Jian Family found their little daughter who’d been missing for nearly twenty years. Jian Huaijin went to Cloud City to pick her up herself… Si Si, are you listening? I said Jian Huaici has been found.”

“Mm.” Ming Siyu responded casually. “You’re talking about the Jian Family. After Jian Huaijin inherited the family business, didn’t she delegate it to an agency? She’s not that involved anymore.”

“You’re so perfunctory. I’m telling you about her sister, and you pivot to Group management. Boring workaholic—bet your little wolf ignores you too.”

Ming Siyu calmly flipped through files. “She loves paying attention to me.”

“Tch. Then show her to me. This morning I only heard you rattling off her height and measurements. I, the esteemed editor-in-chief of an international fashion magazine, personally picked clothes for your little toy, and I don’t even know what she looks like? Does that make sense?”

With that, He Qiange sidled up to Ming Siyu and waved in front of her face, interrupting her reading.

Ming Siyu raised a brow. “And you have the nerve to call yourself editor-in-chief.”

This pampered young miss probably didn’t even know which way her magazine’s front door faced. But lazy as she was, He Qiange had an innate fashion sense, always sniffing out the latest trends keenly and excelling at outfit coordination.

He Qiange’s request to see Liu Ran wasn’t excessive. Ming Siyu had a camera in her living room that monitored the living room and part of the dining area. Without a photo of Liu Ran handy, she pulled up the living room feed.

“Look—”

It cut off abruptly.

He Qiange muttered something about “what’s there to be embarrassed about” as she leaned in, then froze upon seeing the screen.

In the footage, the two figures in the corner were very close—looking exceptionally intimate.

As if they were kissing.