The Crematorium While Chasing an Alpha Was Intercepted by a Flirtatious Omega Senior Sister [Rebirth] 18

Chapter 18:

What?! Ji Qianqian was the female lead of this drama. Yan Qinghe got off the testing platform, stretched her long legs, and felt the urge to turn and leave.

To hell with one hundred percent compatibility.

Director Fei Qiankun was still immersed in the wonder of the one hundred percent compatibility. Seeing that Yan Qinghe wanted to leave, he hurriedly stopped her. “Chairwoman Yan, where are you going!”

“You know who I am?”

Fei Qiankun knew he had misspoken and nodded. “President Wei said this was a strategic favor. If you don’t want others to know, we can keep it a secret for you.”

At the mention of Wei Weizhi, Yan Qinghe’s temples throbbed. She had a feeling she had been tricked by Wei Weizhi and Ji Qianqian, or was it just a coincidence?

Yan Qinghe: “How many scenes are there to shoot?”

“Not many, not many, just three,” Fei Qiankun said, waving his hand and having his assistant take Yan Qinghe to her private dressing room, afraid she would change her mind.

Yan Qinghe weaved through the bustling crowd and hid in her dressing room. It was only when she entered that she realized the room was divided into two functional areas: one side was a makeup area, and the other was a multi-functional rest area with a bed and a bath.

She sat at the vanity and looked at herself in the mirror. Her tired phoenix eyes were bloodshot, her long, upward-slanting brows and pale face from staying up late.

Was it just because of this face that the director chose me, a coincidence that I’m here to fill in?

She buried her face in her hands and let out a long sigh through the gaps between her fingers. The thought of seeing Ji Qianqian soon still made her feel a little uneasy, wrapped in resistance, and her legs ached slightly.

The tension was born from resistance. In the end, she couldn’t be calm.

Her leg moved twice, and the sound of her shoelace dragging on the floor made her realize it had come undone and tied itself into a dead knot. She sat in the chair, bent over, and, after untangling it, began to tie her shoelace.

She vaguely heard the door open. Without looking up, Yan Qinghe said, “Director Fei’s assistant? I’ll be there in a moment.”

A pair of classic red pointed embroidered shoes touched the front of her sneakers. Looking up, she saw a bright red dress, as fiery as a flame, accentuating a slender waist. Ji Qianqian looked down and smiled. “Long time no see, Qinghe.”

“Are you here to see me?”

Yan Qinghe swiveled the chair around to face the vanity and sneered, “If I had known you were here, I probably wouldn’t have come.”

Ji Qianqian: “I heard from the director that you’ll be replacing Xue Menghuan and acting opposite me this time… Qinghe, I’m very happy.”

In the mirror, her hand, which was about to habitually wrap around Yan Qinghe’s neck, stopped itself. Instead, it rested lightly on Yan Qinghe’s shoulder, hesitating for a long time, her two fingers tapping her shoulder like a dance of confession.

Yan Qinghe’s shoulders tensed. Perhaps a memory had been triggered. The air between them froze.

After a long while, Ji Qianqian leaned into Yan Qinghe’s ear and whispered, “Qinghe, do I look pretty today?”

Her question struck Yan Qinghe’s mind like a bolt of lightning. Yan Qinghe’s eyelashes trembled, and she forced out a sentence through gritted teeth, “That’s enough! Ji Qianqian!”

Memories, coated in sugar and arsenic, fermented in her heart.

In a scene from high school, she was pacing back and forth by a bench under the school’s avenue of trees. Her friend, Zhang Siyu, was getting dizzy from watching her.

“So, Qianqian must like me a little, right?” Yan Qinghe asked, her face flushed with excitement.

“Why do you say that?” Zhang Siyu asked her.

She told her everything about her interactions with Ji Qianqian. At that time, when they were shopping or eating together, Ji Qianqian would suddenly stop, turn to face her, and gaze at her with focused eyes. “Qinghe, do you think I’m pretty?”

“Here, there, and my profile… are they all pretty?” Ji Qianqian followed Yan Qinghe’s gaze, pointing to her red lips, the tip of her nose, and finally tracing the curve of her profile with her finger.

Yan Qinghe’s heart was pounding. She thought Ji Qianqian was drop-dead gorgeous. But fearing that a sudden compliment would expose her secret crush, she just looked at the sky and said lightly, “You’re okay.”

The more she did this, the more Ji Qianqian wouldn’t let her go.

Perhaps it was because Qinghe had called her “darkie” when they were children. Now that she was older, she always wanted Yan Qinghe to praise her more, even if it seemed a bit narcissistic.

“You’re okay” was not a satisfying answer for Ji Qianqian.

The next day, she cornered Yan Qinghe against a wall, just short of a kabedon. Her beautiful eyes were close, full of anticipation, and she asked in a soft, coquettish voice, “Qinghe, are my eyes pretty?”

Ji Qianqian’s eyes, even when she wasn’t smiling, seemed to be full of affection, as if she were flirting, when she stared at you. Yan Qinghe silently lowered her eyes, a blush creeping up to her ears. She couldn’t look at her directly and replied weakly, “They’re alright.”

On the third day, a weekend, before the movie ended, Yan Qinghe was about to leave when Ji Qianqian suddenly grabbed her hand. In the dark movie theater, she took the initiative to intertwine their hands, comparing hers to hers, their fingers touching. She smiled, her eyes curving. “Qinghe, are my hands pretty? Are they soft?” As she spoke, she gently squeezed her fingertips.

Sweat broke out on Yan Qinghe’s forehead. Half of her heart was screaming with joy, the other half with nervousness. After taking a deep breath, she gave in and admitted, “Qianqian… you’re pretty everywhere.”

Let her go! Don’t tease her anymore.

Fortunately, the dimness of the movie theater before the lights came on hid her blush. The hustle and bustle after the movie ended covered the sound of her racing heart.

At that time, she never thought that one day, her wish would come true and she would marry Ji Qianqian.

Especially after returning from their honeymoon, mentioning this pre-marriage incident became a secret little game between the two wives.

At first, Ji Qianqian would ask her—Is Qianqian pretty today?

Before leaving the house, the door would be half-open, but she would hold onto Yan Qinghe, not letting her leave until she got a satisfactory answer.

“The great Miss Ji is always pretty,” Yan Qinghe would say, stroking Ji Qianqian’s head, her heart filled with a soft happiness.

Ji Qianqian would pinch the soft flesh of her waist, still not letting her go, and shake her head against her neck, clearly not satisfied with the answer.

Yan Qinghe thought for a moment and changed her words. “My wife is pretty everywhere.”

Only then would she be allowed to leave.

The next day. “Are Qianqian’s eyes pretty today?” she would ask, her eyes bright and her brows curved.

“Today, my wife’s eyes are also very beautiful,” Yan Qinghe would say, putting down her phone and staring at her without blinking.

Ji Qianqian would nod in satisfaction and, like a spoiled child, open her arms to her, her voice soft and sweet. “Kisses~~~”

Yan Qinghe would wrap her arms around her waist, hold her on her lap, and, like kissing a flower petal, plant a kiss on Ji Qianqian’s closed, trembling eyelids.

Holding the warm fragrance in her arms, Yan Qinghe’s words flowed like a lotus flower, self-taught. “My wife’s hands are also very beautiful.”

Ji Qianqian would move her hand to her face, bury her head in her chest, and mumble, “Kisses too.”

Yan Qinghe would kiss her palm and continue, “My wife’s lip color is especially beautiful.”

I want to taste a little lipstick, share a little of that color, so I don’t have to put any on when I go out.

Ji Qianqian would close her eyes, pucker her red lips, and tilt up her delicate face. “Kisses.”
A sip of a kiss on her red lips, as sweet as honey.

**

Finally, Yan Qinghe would pinch the dimples of Venus on both sides. They would be face to face, their noses touching. Yan Qinghe would glance sideways and say deliberately, “My wife’s new bra is also very pretty.”

Ji Qianqian, already weak from the kisses, would blurt out habitually, “Baby, kisses…”

Yan Qinghe, having received her orders, “Alright.”

Clothes would be pushed up. As the wet heat in front of her was enveloped by a gurgling sound, Ji Qianqian would belatedly blush, her fingers running through Yan Qinghe’s hair, while she shyly and weakly tapped her, bad Qinghe…