Chapter 72: 072

Probing for intelligence was child’s play for Song Guiya.

But after borrowing Xue Yin’s phone, she changed her mind.

Playing games could easily disarm Xue Yin’s suspicions, letting her pry out secrets without breaking a sweat.

Yet Song Guiya knew better. Xi Tongyue’s willingness to share their origins with Xue Yin stemmed not just from trust, but also from Xue Yin’s reputation for keeping her mouth shut.

Xue Yin’s earlier slip had been pure accident—she’d assumed her closeness to Xi Tongyue meant there were no secrets between them.

To exploit that and make Xue Yin betray her friend’s confidence would be dishonorable.

Especially when that friend was Xi Tongyue.

Xi Tongyue had grown up without ever knowing what true friendship felt like. Now she finally had someone she could trust—how could Song Guiya bear to disappoint her?

On top of that, Song Guiya’s instincts told her Xi Tongyue had good reasons for keeping it from her. She would rather hear the truth straight from Xi Tongyue’s lips when the time was right than scheme it out of someone else.

And so, Song Guiya abandoned any plans to grill Xue Yin about those “few centuries.” Instead, she kept things light, chatting idly about Xi Tongyue’s gossip and scandals.

As Xue Yin rummaged seriously through the medkit, she couldn’t resist defending her friend. “Don’t buy into all that nonsense from outsiders claiming Sister Xi is some wild playgirl who swings both ways. It’s all fake. If you have to blame someone, blame Sister Xi for being too beautiful, too capable, too free-spirited to care what anyone thinks. No one in the industry can hold a candle to her. Over time, envy turns to hate, and people start twisting the truth to tear her down. Those tabloid hacks? Don’t give them the time of day.”

Song Guiya wiped out an entire enemy squad with her Explosive Hunting Bow, then replied coolly, “I know.”

People always worshiped their gods from afar, then itched to drag them down and watch them shatter on the mortal plane.

It was ever thus.

With a carry as forgiving as Song Guiya, Xue Yin discovered the game could be this much fun. What a revelation!

So immersed was she that Xue Yin never noticed someone entering Huo Yao’s office.

At the sound of high heels clicking across the floor, Xue Yin called out without looking up. “Yaoyao, you’re back already? Handled the fight that quick? You sure you don’t need a hospital checkup?”

No answer came, but Xue Yin remained oblivious.

Song Guiya suddenly felt a chill at the back of her neck. Only when a familiar cold fragrance lingered at her nose did she snap upright and whirl around—right into Xi Tongyue’s black eyes, gleaming with ambiguous amusement.

“Having fun with the game?”

At the sound of that voice, Xue Yin finally peeled her eyes from the screen. Seeing Xi Tongyue there, she lit up with excitement, ready to rave about Song Guiya’s skills. But one glimpse of that icy edge in her gaze brought a grim realization crashing down.

Huo Yao wasn’t here.

And she’d spent the entire afternoon alone in a room with Sister Xi’s girlfriend, gaming away—without Sister Xi knowing a thing.

In any circle, that was a recipe for misunderstanding.

Xue Yin, you idiot!

“Sister Xi, thank God you’re back!” Channeling the performance of a lifetime, Xue Yin lied through her teeth. “Your girlfriend dragged me into this game. I couldn’t exactly say no to her on your account. I’ve been stuck playing all afternoon—exhausted!”

Song Guiya: …

She regretted it now.

Screw honor—she should’ve just thrown the game and taken her down.

Song Guiya pulled a face straight out of the palace dramas, the very picture of “Your Majesty, pay no heed to the traitorous minister’s lies,” her gaze pleading piteously at Xi Tongyue.

Xi Tongyue slanted a look at Song Guiya before turning to Xue Yin. Her tone was lazy and offhand, laced with a shiver-inducing chill. “Mm. Thanks for your hard work, A-Yin. Go get some rest.”

“Great, I’ll head out then. You two have fun.” Xue Yin bolted like she’d been pardoned, grabbing her bag without a second thought to why she’d come looking for Xi Tongyue in the first place. She hightailed it out of there.

Sure, it was a bit disloyal to Song Guiya, but her own neck came first. Besides, Xi Tongyue would never actually do anything to her.

With that in mind, Xue Yin felt a weight lift. Her high heels clicked rapidly—”tap-tap-tap”—as she fled Kejin Entertainment.

Terrified that lingering even a moment longer might spell her doom.

Once Xue Yin was gone, an eerie silence blanketed the office.

Until the phone buzzed with a few impatient pings from her teammates.

“Huh? Where’d those two go? Why’d they suddenly stop moving?”

“Bow God, you still there?”

“Old Bow…”

The instant that girly voice chimed in over team chat, Song Guiya killed her phone screen and chucked the grimy mess in her hand.

Song Guiya looked at Xi Tongyue, suddenly at a loss for how to explain.

Xi Tongyue stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze calm and unruffled, but Song Guiya could clearly sense her displeasure.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Xi Tongyue said in a teasing lilt, “Hubby, they’re calling for you.”

Song Guiya shook her head vigorously like a rattle. “They’re not calling me. They were just yelling randomly—don’t get the wrong idea. T_T”

Xi Tongyue knew full well that wasn’t what they meant in the game, but a thorny possessiveness had taken hold, making it impossible for her to hold back the sour edge in her voice. Still, with her proud nature, she would never allow herself to show it outright.

“Come with me.” Xi Tongyue turned casually and headed outside.

Song Guiya had no idea where she was going but followed without hesitation.

Xi Tongyue stepped out of Huo Yao’s office and used her fingerprint to unlock the door across the hall.

Inside was another office, complete with an adjoining lounge. The setup was simple yet luxurious, the pricey carpet yielding a soft, comfortable give underfoot.

Song Guiya assumed this was Xi Tongyue’s workspace, but Xi didn’t stop. She circled behind the desk’s privacy screen, and only when Song followed did she spot the hidden door there—an elevator, every detail screaming high-end.

Song Guiya was puzzled but didn’t ask. They stepped into the car together.

Once inside, Xi Tongyue lit up the button for the top floor.

Song Guiya sneaked a glance at her, but Xi showed no sign of speaking.

When the doors opened, they entered an office that took up the entire floor.

The decor was meticulously designed—elegant and tasteful, with attention to every detail. Luxurious without a hint of tackiness, the space was divided into functional zones: work area, meeting space, lounge, dining nook, even a home gym. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominated every section, offering sweeping views of all Haicheng below.

Compared to the offices downstairs, this was heaven and earth.

Song Guiya followed Xi Tongyue into the office with a calm expression, a few suspicions already forming in her mind.

But right now, none of that mattered. What did was clearing the air.

This office was the picture of privacy. Xi Tongyue had brought her up here specifically so they wouldn’t be interrupted—giving her the chance to explain alone.

All the way up, Song Guiya had been racking her brain for how to soothe Xi Tongyue’s temper. A little video from Li Xingruo had even flashed through her thoughts—one that taught ways to please your beloved when she was mad.

After a moment, Song Guiya’s ears burned. She silently scolded herself for being so forward.

Xi Tongyue took a bottle of red wine from the cabinet and poured two glasses—one on the desk, the other in her hand.

Song Guiya picked up the one on the desk and took a shallow sip. She saw Xi Tongyue lounging in a cream-colored leather chair, leg crossed over knee.

She thought for a second, then set her glass back down. She took two steps toward Xi Tongyue, leaned in close, cupped that face capable of toppling nations, and planted a quick peck on those vividly painted lips.

The young woman’s soft, warm lips brushed past, leaving a faint trace of wine’s aroma. If not for Song Guiya standing there looking guilty as sin, Xi Tongyue might have thought she’d imagined it.

Surprise aside, the stuffiness in her chest eased by half.

“Still mad?” Song Guiya watched Xi Tongyue’s face carefully but saw no change in her expression. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure.

Did Xi Tongyue dislike it?

Or had the kiss been too quick for her to feel it?

Just as she leaned in to try again, Xi Tongyue looked up abruptly. “Who taught you that?”

Song Guiya froze, a bad feeling surging through her. But the fear of further misunderstanding outweighed any embarrassment she couldn’t quite name. In her fluster, she spilled everything: the little videos from Li Xingruo, why Xingruo had sent them in the first place.

Seeing Xi Tongyue gazing down without a word—but without any anger either—Song Guiya seized the moment to lay out the whole story of gaming with Xue Yin, start to finish.

Of course, she didn’t skip the details about that “hundreds of years” bit either.

She had three reasons for this. First, to shift the topic away from the short video and spare them further awkwardness. Second, she wanted Xi Tongyue to tell her about those “few hundred years.” Third, she simply couldn’t bear to deceive her.

Whether in the past or the present, aside from her unspeakable feelings for Xi Tongyue, Song Guiya had always shown Her Majesty nothing but unwavering loyalty and frankness, with nothing to conceal.

Xi Tongyue gazed into her clear eyes, noting the openness and sincerity etched across her features. Yet Song had still managed to upset her, so a flicker of nervousness and embarrassment surfaced in Xi Tongyue’s own gaze.

In that instant, the last remnants of her anger vanished completely.

Now her mind was wholly occupied by what Song Guiya had just explained—the reason Li Xingruo had sent her that short video.

Seeing that Xi Tongyue still refused to acknowledge her, Song Guiya threw caution to the wind. Softening her voice, she called out using her pet name. “A-Shu, I was wrong, all right?”

The sight of the usually dashing and unbound Little General adopting such a tender, yielding posture deepened the shadows in Xi Tongyue’s eyes. The restraint she had always maintained shattered like a dam bursting under a torrent, crumbling in a heartbeat. Unable to stop herself, she lifted both hands and gripped Song Guiya’s firm, springy waist. With an enigmatic glint in her eyes, she said, “If Zhaoheng truly wants to apologize, then show some sincerity.”

Song Guiya: ?