“That’s right, just like that.”
Zhao Qingyu bent slightly at the waist, her hands pressing down on Shen An’s shoulders. “No need to be shocked. This is her true nature—a cunning devil with ulterior motives.”
“What you need to watch out for are those little favors she tosses out so casually. They’re nothing but crocodile tears, not worth a dime.”
“Countless people have already fallen for her clumsy tricks.”
When it came to little favors for men, Zhao Qingyu was undoubtedly one of the best at it.
Take this moment, for instance—the sudden closeness between them. Her striking features were right there within inches, every tiny mole on her brows and eyes crystal clear.
Shen An knew Zhao Qingyu wouldn’t stoop to crude seduction tactics, nor would she bother with them.
But that’s why she was called a fox: her soul-stealing allure often came across as completely unintentional.
Those foxy, seductive eyes of hers flickered right in front of him now, brimming with solemn warning and genuine concern.
A move this natural, without seeming the least bit forced, would be nearly impossible to see from Xu Yijing.
Even getting too close to a guy made her hesitate endlessly, weighing every pro and con.
If Shen An didn’t have such ironclad self-control, he might well have gotten lost in Zhao Qingyu’s enchanting gaze, laced with that touch of concern. Little by little, he could have been swayed to her side, even coming to treat her every word as gospel.
If this were a dating sim game, Zhao Qingyu’s captivating charm would easily break 99, inching right up to perfection.
Even so, Shen An had to steel his mind, reminding himself over and over that beauties were like bleached skulls—the prettier, the more dangerous.
He might have breached Zhao Qingyu’s first line of defense, but that didn’t mean he could roam freely through her heart.
On the contrary, her second layer would be even more impenetrable.
Breaking through it would demand real finesse.
Shen An shifted his gaze away slightly, dodging her hypnotic stare. In a low voice, he said, “Just like you said earlier, Senior Sister Xu is an enemy in your eyes—an irreconcilable foe.”
“When it comes to enemies, it’s hard for me to take any assessment at face value, rather than as bias.”
In other words, he was still choosing to trust Xu Yijing, openly voicing his skepticism.
He felt Zhao Qingyu was deliberately exaggerating Xu Yijing’s “flaws.”
She was even painting her as some shadowy big bad lurking behind the scenes.
Yet beneath that skepticism, his eyes lacked conviction. Clearly, Zhao Qingyu’s earlier words had rattled him, planting a seed of doubt about Xu Yijing’s righteousness.
That flicker of doubt was so faint, but Zhao Qingyu caught it perfectly.
Her lips curved upward unconsciously. She was certain she was just one step away from turning Shen An to her side.
All she needed was for him to witness Xu Yijing’s “terrifying” side firsthand.
Best if he saw it with his own eyes and heard it with his own ears.
She was a master at the push-pull of relationships, knowing full well that shattering an unbreakable bond just required slipping in a bit of grit.
Creating a few tiny cracks in that solid wall was all it took.
Once Shen An started doubting Xu Yijing, his natural suspicion would kick in.
Then, all she’d have to do was add a little fuel to the fire, and the flames of their rift would roar to life!
In time, he’d come to believe everything she said.
So for now, there was no need to keep hammering away at him or forcing her views on Xu Yijing down his throat.
That would only backfire, confirming her supposed bias.
“No worries,” Zhao Qingyu said. “You two probably haven’t had much contact yet, even if you’re living under the same roof day and night.”
She released her grip confidently and lifted her chin. “The more you interact with her, the more you’ll see I’m telling the truth—no bias involved.”
Shen An knew when to quit. He rubbed his forehead as if nursing a headache and murmured, “I don’t want to keep talking about this. I have zero interest in what kind of person Senior Sister Xu really is.”
Zhao Qingyu readily agreed, easing back onto the sofa. “Fine then. Let’s talk about your quitting the Art Troupe instead.”
“So, are you still set on leaving?”
Shen An gave a wry smile. “If I say yes, will you get mad?”
Zhao Qingyu arched a brow. “You mean, will I retaliate against you?”
“Hmm, some things don’t need to be spelled out.”
“Ha~ Guess my petty streak is burned into your brain.” She shrugged, her red lips pursing slightly. “I’ll be straight with you: no, I won’t.”
“Everyone’s free to choose. The Art Troupe isn’t some top-secret outfit—you didn’t sign a blood oath or anything.”
“If you can join, you can leave.”
Zhao Qingyu yielded ground to gain the upper hand, striking a reasonable pose.
But beneath the logic lurked her edge: “That said, people who quit the Art Troupe usually have a tough time landing spots in other departments.”
“Recruitment season’s long over, and with Xu Yijing’s vaunted fairness, she’s not likely to pull strings for you.”
“But if you couldn’t care less about joining the Student Union, or any official college group for that matter—or your own future prospects—then ignore all that. I can process your withdrawal right now.”
“You…” Shen An shot to his feet. “Is it really that serious?”
“Of course~”
Zhao Qingyu waved it off lightly. “The Student Union folks have never been fans of the Art Troupe, but you can’t deny we’re a key part of it—an important one, at that.”
“Conflicts between the Student Union’s other departments and the Art Troupe? Those are just internal squabbles.”
“But if you up and quit? That turns it into an external beef—you versus the Student Union.”
“Don’t say I’m bullying or scaring you. Go ask around yourself: what do other departments do with voluntary quitters?”
“You’ll have a thousand excuses, sure, but the Student Union won’t hear them.”
“They’ll just see it as you thumbing your nose at their rules.”
“Or to put it bluntly: what can’t the Student Union give you that makes you so unhappy you have to bail like this?”
The fuzzy tips of her illusory cat ears swayed along with her tousled short hair as she brushed it back. “You think I’m overbearing? Those folks are even worse.”
“Every last one of them acts like they own the world the second they get a taste of power—no challenges allowed.”
“Them?” Shen An frowned.
“Mm-hmm. The Student Union leadership, headed by Xu Yijing. Every single one is arrogant, thinking they’re invincible.”
“It’s normal, really. Spoiled from birth, no real setbacks in life—they can’t help being full of themselves.”
“Ah, listen to me going on. Sounds like I’m describing myself.”
Zhao Qingyu chuckled to herself, but Shen An couldn’t muster a smile.
He bowed his head and let out a heavy sigh.
“I just want to drop one group. No beef with the Student Union or anything.”
“Tsk. If you’ve got no complaints, why quit?”
Zhao Qingyu mimicked the interrogators’ tone, emphasizing the words.
Then she smiled faintly, slipping back to normal. “See? That’s exactly how they’ll grill you.”
“Say you didn’t think it through, realized it wasn’t for you after joining? Boom—you’re questioning their recruitment and selection process. They picked a newbie who doesn’t even get the group.”
“Or claim health issues—your problem, nothing to do with the Student Union or anyone in the troupe.”
“That won’t fly either. They’ll get medical checks to verify if you’re really too sick for basic activities.”
“Don’t think I’m bluffing. For their precious face, they’ll burn time and resources to rule it out. Face is all they’re short on.”
“But don’t mistake it for a free checkup. Trust me, you won’t enjoy the process.”
“Unless a real diagnosis backs you up—something that proves you can’t participate due to health—then maybe you’ll get a semi-dignified exit~”
“Because deep down, they’ll think: Didn’t you know you were sick? Even if not what, at least what you could handle.”
“Joining anyway, knowing your limits? That’s a challenge right there.”
“Then it spirals back to their selection process.”
“You’re the one sowing doubt, shaking their recruitment methods.”
Though Shen An hesitated a little, after a moment’s pause, he stuck to his original decision. “If they suspect something, then let them suspect.”
“I… still choose to withdraw.”
Zhao Qingyu’s lips twitched faintly. She propped her chin on her small hand, pouting in aggrieved annoyance. “That’s no fun at all. Looks like I couldn’t scare you after all.”
Shen An: “?”
He had nearly believed it for real just moments ago.
“Hee hee, those things I said earlier were just my own biases—the info I pieced together in an emotional fit.”
Heh.
Shen An’s face immediately soured with irritation at being toyed with.
Zhao Qingyu hurriedly soothed him. “Aiya, I just didn’t want you to quit, so I made up all that nonsense on purpose.”
“I didn’t expect it wouldn’t faze you. You really do have a mind of your own.”
“Now I’m even more reluctant to see you go.”
The tip of Zhao Qingyu’s foot, wrapped in sheer black stockings, lifted slightly. She crossed her legs, letting it sway teasingly before Shen An’s eyes. “But I’ve apologized where I needed to and explained everything that called for it.”
“You’re not seriously going to make me get on my knees and beg, are you?”
“That would be asking too much.”
“Shen An, why don’t you tell me straight—what do you want me to do so you’ll stay in the Art Troupe?”
Zhao Qingyu tilted her head, a faint coquettish lilt in her voice. “It’s really a great place, you know—aside from having a twisted Troupe Leader like me.”
“You get along great with everyone, after all.”
“And I’ve got a plan. A very grand plan. Want to hear about it? It’s a perk only for current members.”
Zhao Qingyu lifted the tip of her foot higher, biting her lip with a seductive smile. “Extraordinarily grand~”
