It was eleven at night, so damn late—Han Xuan couldn’t possibly still be at the pet shop; she should’ve gotten off work ages ago. So was that video call to see Pipi… or to see her?
Chu Susu knew full well, but she didn’t say a word.
The makeup she’d just touched up was put to perfect use. After checking herself over and confirming she looked decent enough, she finally replied to Han Xuan with a simple “Okay.”
The other side was online waiting, and a video call came through almost immediately.
In the frame, Han Xuan was wearing cotton pajamas, her hair a bit messy, like she’d just rolled out of bed. Seeing the pure white background on Chu Susu’s end, she asked curiously, “Where are you?”
“Just finished a music festival with friends, in the bathroom at a barbecue joint.”
“Oh.” Han Xuan nodded. “Hang on a sec.”
The screen started shaking as she walked somewhere, deliberately lightening her footsteps, like she was afraid of waking someone. The light gradually dimmed too.
She lowered her voice. “Lemme show you Pipi real quick.”
The pet shop shelves were lined with cages of all sizes, each padded with soft bedding, and inside every one slept a little dog peacefully. It was pretty dark, but Chu Susu spotted Pipi right away, eyes closed tight, looking well taken care of.
Once Han Xuan backed up to her original spot, Chu Susu asked with a hint of surprise, “It’s this late— you’re still at the pet shop?”
“Someone’s gotta stay overnight every day, in case something happens in the middle of the night.”
Han Xuan held up her phone to show the little room in the pet shop. “I sleep here.”
She rubbed her tired eyes, looking utterly exhausted from work.
“Tired?”
“Mm.”
“Then go to sleep already.”
Han Xuan lay back on the bed, her long hair fanning out to the sides. She brought her phone close to her face and blinked.
Something flashed by in the frame, and Chu Susu didn’t miss it. She vaguely made out a reddish-purple bruise on Han Xuan’s skin… right on her neck.
A mark like that was always pretty suggestive. A hickey?
But she’d never once associated that word with Han Xuan before.
Chu Susu’s expression didn’t change as she asked casually, “What happened to your neck? You hurt?”
“Hm?” Han Xuan shifted her phone down to reveal the mark.
Now it was clear as day—not an external injury, no scabs or cuts, but a blood clot under the skin at her collarbone. Either a hickey or something pinched out some other way.
Han Xuan’s neck was slender, the line from her jaw to her collarbone and shoulder forming a perfect right angle. Lying there on the bed without a guard up, she was like a white flower, her whole body giving off this vibe of pick-me-if-you-want fragrance, like you could just imagine how easily she’d be plucked.
And that little mark was right at the flower’s stamen, swaying in the breeze, adding a touch of decadent allure to the pure white, hidden deep inside.
Han Xuan’s finger covered it, rubbing gently, and she replied without much concern, “A big Tibetan Mastiff came into the shop today—got bumped by it tonight and hit right there.”
What a convenient spot.
With anyone else, Chu Susu might’ve gotten suspicious, but with Han Xuan, she didn’t really doubt it.
Even if it was a hickey, why would she go out of her way to video call her and make sure she saw it? Who’d be that dumb?
Plus, yesterday when she’d seen Han Xuan, there’d been no mark, and she’d spent the whole day at the pet shop with no time for anything else.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not too bad.” Han Xuan said, “Don’t worry, I heal fast.”
And facts proved it.
The next day, when she sent Chu Susu another selfie, the mark was so faded it was completely gone.
Pipi was still obediently cuddling up next to Han Xuan, like its usual wild energy was all fake.
Chu Susu got the photo while they were at a famous local ancient-method massage parlor, all getting head massages together.
The second she opened the pic, Li Le’er—sharp-eyed as ever next to her—spotted it and yelped excitedly, startling the masseuse. “Is this the little lamb?”
“Yeah.”
“She’s sending you pics—that’s gotta mean she’s into you.” Li Le’er thought back to last night and felt a bit down, suddenly all woe-is-me. “And here I am, still a single dog, wuu wuu wuu…”
She’d been hitting it off hot and heavy with that hunk Xiao Xiang, but when Chu Susu came back from the bathroom, she’d pulled her aside and said the guy had a girlfriend.
Talk about a joke—what kinda girlfriend-haver doesn’t mention it?
Li Le’er’s fire lit fast and burned out faster. The second she heard that, all her interest vanished. Xiao Xiang, who’d looked so fine before, now just seemed like a steaming pile of cow dung.
Chu Susu drawled lazily, “That guy’s nothing special anyway—not as great as you think. No need to feel bad about it.”
“It’s not about good or bad—it’s that he toyed with my feelings!” Li Le’er fumed. “Didn’t you see how panicked he got when I tricked him later? If he could’ve talked his way out, I’d call him impressive as hell, but with that mental fortitude? Still out here trying to pick up girls? What a coward.”
She ranted on and on, spitting curses like a pro.
“You should cut back on those games.” Zhou Xiaoying shot her a disappointed look. “You’re trash at ’em anyway, and all you’ve picked up is how to talk like a sailor—nothing else.”
Li Le’er wasn’t having it and shot back, “What? Can’t even curse out a scumbag now? And when was I trash? My Kaisa solo queue’s got a 67% win rate all the way to Diamond 1…”
They weren’t seriously fighting, of course—just bickering a bit before shifting back to Han Xuan.
“That little lamb’s a pro at reeling ’em in.” Li Le’er said. “Look at her pics—seems casual, but she definitely picked ’em carefully. Every detail’s perfect.”
“…” Chu Susu glanced at her. “You’re overthinking. She doesn’t think like that at all.”
“You sure?” Li Le’er huffed. “She looks pure as hell, but I don’t buy it.”
Qiao Qian perked up too. “Oh? You think the little lamb’s faking it?”
Li Le’er was mostly just talking off the cuff, not super serious. “Maybe. The Eldest Miss thinks she’s the one fishing for the little lamb, but she’s actually the fish on the hook.”
They chattered on, but Zhou Xiaoying didn’t chime in again.
She remembered something—Chu Susu had asked her to dig up dirt on Han Xuan before, and she had a friend who’d also graduated from Imperial Capital Academy of Fine Arts.
She’d figured Han Xuan seemed straight-laced, so probably nothing juicy.
But just a couple days ago, Zhou Xiaoying had actually heard something a bit off—only she’d been busy and forgot to tell Chu Susu right away.
With everyone else around now, she thought about bringing it up but ultimately swallowed her words.
Eh, better wait till they’re back in the Imperial Capital to talk.
Vacations always fly by when you’re relaxing, and three days later, they were heading back.
Chu Susu had added Kong Zhizhen on WeChat back then, but neither had messaged. Now, she saw Kong Zhizhen’s Moments post.
[What do people really live for?]
Chu Susu stared at it for a bit, wondering if her words from last time had sparked it.
Hope she follows her heart with whatever she chooses.
Chu Susu quietly liked it, then closed her phone.
They’d only played for three days of the seven-day holiday because there was a reason. Clients didn’t care if you were on National Day vacation—if they called, you dropped everything.
At least holiday overtime paid double, so Chu Susu wasn’t about to turn down cash.
She ran into Jack at the office. The injuries on his face still weren’t healed—gauze on the right side of his cheekbone, eye socket all bruised purple. He looked absolutely pitiful.
That day’s incident had been an accident, but it inevitably affected the project team.
All the meetings and tasks Jack missed that day? Chu Susu had stepped up temporarily. She’d handled them great, so it just naturally kept going that way—no switching back.
Rebecca’s line was, “You’re injured—rest up properly. I’ll approve a few days off just for you; no need to come in.”
But Jack showed up anyway, turned all silent and brooding, a heavy, oppressive aura hanging around him.
He sat quietly in the office. When Chu Susu passed by the door, he shot her a cold glare.
Chu Susu felt it, of course, and glared right back without holding back. What the hell—glaring for no reason?
After a beat, Jack ground out through clenched teeth, “Feeling pretty smug now, huh?”
His battered face twisted even more.
“That was all supposed to be mine…” Jack squeezed the words out from deep in his gut bit by bit. “All mine…”
Those meetings with the client and higher-ups—they’d been his responsibility.
Such a golden opportunity to shine, all ruined now. All because of that ridiculous robbery a few days ago…
While he was laid up in the hospital, Chu Susu had shone in front of everyone.
No one remembered who Jack was anymore. No one cared what he’d done or what happened to him.
It was a world that only cared about results, not the process.
Jack’s gaze grew darker and darker.
Without Chu Susu, he’d rest a few days, come back, take over his work again—no way he’d end up like this.
As the project leader, he sat in his office with nothing to do—not even the director would let him stay, telling him to go home and rest.
He was unwilling to accept it.
Why? Just because she got lucky?
Chu Susu leaned against the doorframe, lazily glancing at him. “Oh, what’s that got to do with me?”
She had stepped in temporarily, scrambling every which way, but hadn’t she passed the client’s review through her own abilities and secured the follow-up opportunities?
Something like this had happened, and sure, she could understand Jack being in a bad mood, but what did any of it have to do with her?
Chu Susu said nothing more. She grabbed her documents and headed straight for Rebecca’s office to get a signature.
Just as she raised her hand to knock, she heard Rebecca’s voice on the phone from inside—restrained and forbearing, but the anger simmering beneath was still clear.
“I’ve already given you the money, haven’t I? Stop harassing me!”
Oh ho.
Had she accidentally overheard Rebecca’s private matters?
She absolutely could not let Rebecca know she’d heard. That would spell trouble.
Chu Susu decisively lightened her footsteps, turned tail, and left. About ten minutes later, she returned and knocked on the door.
This time, she confirmed beforehand—the call had ended completely.
“Come in.”
Rebecca’s voice had returned to its calm state, without a trace of disturbance.
