Lu Zhixia was so frustrated that she threw a full set of punches right there in her room, battling thin air with ferocious momentum.
After thrashing around for a while, she still couldn’t muster her spirits. She sat on the edge of the bed and let out a soft sigh.
A marriage alliance—Shen Wanqing was destined for one anyway. So why had she gone and provoked her?
Of course, Lu Zhixia had been the one doing the clinging. Sigh. She ruffled her hair in irritation. Even someone as formidable as Shen Wanqing had to step into a marriage like that.
So she was nothing more than a temporary bed partner. Shen Wanqing had always been crystal clear about the boundaries.
It was Lu Zhixia’s own stubbornness that had wrung that “promise” out of her—something about getting together once they understood each other better.
Could she even stop Shen Wanqing’s marriage alliance?
On what grounds? Lu Zhixia clutched her head and kicked her legs furiously to vent.
Why couldn’t people just live for themselves? Shen Wanqing was so incredibly capable—why bend to this?
Her body slid down until she was sprawled flat on the floor. After staring blankly into space for ages, a hint of drowsiness finally crept in.
But her mind was a tangled mess, refusing to settle. There was still something she needed to do.
She glanced sideways at the door. Beyond it lay the living room, and just past that bend was the front entrance.
Behind that door, the once voice-activated lights now blazed bright as day, chasing away only the illusions right in front of her. The real demons, the ones gnawing at her heart, still lurked deep inside.
In the end, she dragged herself up, yanked open the door, and padded through the dim living room. She paused at the front door for a few seconds, then pressed her eye to the Cat’s Eye, scrutinizing every illuminated corner with utmost care.
Darkness had nowhere left to hide. The shadows in her own heart receded for a moment, and Lu Zhixia let out a quiet breath of relief as she turned back toward her room.
The wild weeds sprouting madly in her chest finally stilled. Lu Zhixia felt a little steadier.
She tossed and turned in bed, pulling up her last chat log with Shen Wanqing and scrolling through it again.
She had asked point-blank if she would go through with the marriage alliance. Shen Wanqing had said yes.
Sometimes, brutal honesty was the sharpest blade of all. Lu Zhixia thought with a pang—even a white lie could have given her a shred of hope.
The more she dwelled on it, the more perplexed she became. Shen Wanqing’s pheromones matched hers with unique, sky-high compatibility. If she married someone else, how on earth would she get through her Heat Periods?
Her expression darkened with every passing thought. By the end, she suspected Shen Wanqing wanted it all—keeping Lu Zhixia as her bed warmer while sealing a business alliance with some husband.
Finally, she burrowed under the covers and let out a muffled roar.
She held her breath until her lungs burned and her vision swam with black spots, the suffocating darkness only amplifying her despair.
Then Lu Zhixia remembered something. She flung off the blanket, rolled out of bed, and made a beeline for the Wardrobe.
She tugged open the doors, and sure enough, there was a faint trace of Udumbara Pheromone lingering inside. It was further proof that Shen Wanqing had been sleeping there all along—otherwise, her scent wouldn’t cling to the space like this.
Lu Zhixia crawled inside and stretched out. It wasn’t too cramped, though hardly roomy.
The depth was plenty; she could fully extend her legs. The bottom was piled with clothes and blankets, making a surprisingly soft landing.
With the doors open, light filtered in, and it felt almost tolerable.
She slid them shut. Fine for the short term.
But as the minutes dragged on, claustrophobia clawed its way in. The tight, shadowy confines choked her breath.
A thin sliver of light leaked through the crack—like a noose around her throat, dangling one frail thread of hope that couldn’t pierce the gloom.
Lu Zhixia tried to tough it out a bit longer, but her head grew hot, her body rebelled, and she shoved the doors wide, gulping down huge breaths of air.
Some people found solace in closets; all Lu Zhixia harvested from the enclosed dark was terror and unease.
Back in bed, the venomous suspicions her wild speculations had brewed earlier quietly dissolved, replaced by heartache for Shen Wanqing.
Sigh. Lu Zhixia clutched the blanket tight. Fine, whatever—they’d deal with it later.
Maybe it was the chaos in her head, her thoughts consumed once more by Shen Wanqing, but her gland began to stir with signs of awakening. She flipped back and forth all night. Sleep wasn’t coming tonight.
Pity was one thing, but resentment simmered too. Once she’d stewed long enough to stay awake, she’d go torment Shen Wanqing about it!
In the dead of night, Qin Zheng stirred awake as someone brought her food.
She ate it, and soon after, Shen Wanqing entered the room.
Qin Zheng hated troubling others, yet here she was, being a burden again and again.
“Thank you” was all she could manage.
Shen Wanqing didn’t need her gratitude. In a calm, even tone, she asked, “Want to talk?”
After a long pause, Qin Zheng let out a soft sob. She wiped away her tears and choked out, “I’m so useless.”
She hated crying in front of anyone, but in Shen Wanqing’s presence, she felt utterly inferior—hating herself, drowning in despair.
“Go ahead and mock me,” Qin Zheng said, her words carrying the recklessness of someone who’d already shattered. She forced a bitter laugh. “I don’t have anything left anyway. Can’t do a damn thing right. Total waste of space.”
Shen Wanqing settled into the chair beside the bed, her voice steady as ever. “I’m not mocking you.”
Those words only buried Qin Zheng deeper in shame. She lurched to her feet, her slippers dragging across the floor, and said in a trembling voice, “Thank you.” She bowed deeply, fighting back tears. “Don’t bother saving me anymore. Just let me sort myself out—or not.”
Qin Zheng turned to leave, but Shen Wanqing’s hand shot out quick as lightning, clamping around her wrist.
She felt even more defeated. Shen Wanqing had pinned her down completely with sheer strength, leaving Qin Zheng to hang her head in powerless defeat.
“Get on the bed. Let’s lay it all out in the open,” Shen Wanqing said, pulling her back to the edge of the bed and pressing down on her shoulders. “I’ll start.”
What Shen Wanqing had to say wasn’t complicated.
First, the trouble at the Flower Venue wasn’t Qin Zheng’s fault. She hadn’t been out in society for a long time—even those with plenty of experience could get duped—so there was no need for self-blame.
Second, while she had helped Qin Zheng before, it wasn’t out of some hidden agenda. For a total stranger, she might not have been so eager to step in. The truth was, she’d done it for Lu Zhixia’s sake.
So if Qin Zheng really wanted to show her gratitude, the best way was to take care of herself and stop worrying those around her—especially Lu Zhixia. It would be better for everyone that way.
Third, when it came to matters of the heart, Qin Zheng had every right to pursue Lu Zhixia. That didn’t change anything between her and Lu Zhixia. In the end, Lu Zhixia’s choice was what mattered most. But Lu Zhixia was only twenty, with more worldly experience than most her age, yet to Shen Wanqing’s eyes, she was still so young and green. More often than not, she let her emotions lead the way—like quitting the Translation Bureau without explaining why. There had to be more to it than she was letting on.
Finally, speaking as a neutral observer rather than someone who had marked Lu Zhixia, Shen Wanqing had to say they simply weren’t a good match. With Lu Zhixia’s personality, Qin Zheng could never keep her in check. She might give Qin Zheng what she wanted, at least for a time, but it wouldn’t last. No one could betray their true nature forever.
Of course, most importantly, Lu Zhixia had no romantic interest in Qin Zheng—and that wasn’t just Shen Wanqing’s opinion. Her advice? Qin Zheng should find a job and get her life on steady ground first. Then she could worry about love. At least that way, her focus would be grounded instead of floating aimlessly.
She could have that talk with Lu Zhixia anytime, confess her feelings if she wanted. But Lu Zhixia would surely turn her down.
After that, Qin Zheng could decide whether to keep pursuing. Shen Wanqing cautioned her, though: if she did, it would inevitably turn into a rivalry between them.
She had no desire to hurt anyone. But when it came to relationships, people always put themselves first. If competing for what they wanted ended up hurting Qin Zheng, it wouldn’t be intentional malice—just the reality of chasing their own needs.
When it boiled down to it, Shen Wanqing finally told Qin Zheng the truth: Lu Zhixia had confessed to her.
If she weren’t willing to take responsibility, she could have said yes on the spot—they’d have been together by now.
Precisely because she did care about Lu Zhixia, she couldn’t just blurt out an agreement. Shen Wanqing’s family background was far too tangled to explain in a few words, and she had no intention of sharing it with Qin Zheng.
“You might hear all sorts of rumors about me, now or in the future,” she said. “But I stand by every word and action when it comes to Lu Zhixia. I know exactly what I’m doing. My feelings for her are serious and unwavering.” She didn’t care whether Qin Zheng believed her, or even if Lu Zhixia did. “Words are just words in the end—they mean nothing without proof. Time will tell the truth. And if—if Lu Zhixia doesn’t have the patience to wait for that proof—then we’re simply not meant to be. We’ll each go our separate ways in peace.”
Shen Wanqing’s words were clear-headed and decisive, the polar opposite of Qin Zheng’s own muddled, aimless state. A complex mix of emotions churned inside her.
On one hand, she envied Shen Wanqing’s strength, feeling a natural reverence for it. On the other, her own inadequacies bred resentment.
It was like the blazing sun of midsummer—we craved its warmth yet raised umbrellas to shield ourselves from it.
You could block the light, but how could you escape the heat radiating everywhere?
And so Qin Zheng found herself emotionally drawn to that power, even as her rational mind recoiled.
She stayed silent the whole time. In the face of Shen Wanqing, who could crush her in every way, she felt like an ant trying to shake a mighty tree—pathetic and unaware of her own insignificance.
Shen Wanqing rose and sat beside her, gently taking Qin Zheng’s hand in hers.
Qin Zheng’s hand was even cooler than her own. “Love yourself before you love another,” she said softly. “It’s a lesson I’m still learning myself—and I pass it on to you. Learn to love yourself first.”
Qin Zheng slowly lifted her gaze, her eyes misty with tears. “Then why don’t you love yourself?” The words she held back screamed in her mind: You’re so exceptional—your looks, your figure, your family, your success. Why don’t you love yourself?
Shen Wanqing smiled. “You might not believe it, but until this year, all I could think about was the most thrilling way to leave this world.”
That’s why she’d thrown herself into extreme sports, always picking the ones that flirted with death.
She’d ended up mastering new skills instead, with death feeling farther away than ever. Injuries were frequent, though—and thanks to her top-tier Omega physique, her recovery was swift, leaving barely a scar.
“My family has my name on the official blacklists for all sorts of dangerous projects just to keep tabs on me—they won’t let me anywhere near them,” Shen Wanqing said. Naturally, she had her ways around it. She’d simply head to a smaller city down the administrative ladder and get what she wanted every time.
She opened up to Qin Zheng about many hidden sides of herself, which only made her allure more irresistible. Beautiful and poised, she treated her with complete sincerity—never arrogant, never doling out pity like some condescending handout.
“Have you told her?” Qin Zheng asked softly.
“No.” Shen Wanqing gave a faint smile. “My standards for her are pretty low in some ways. Her day-to-day life? As long as she stays on the right side of the law, she can raise as much hell as she wants. But—” She paused, her expression softening unconsciously, a gentle smile curving her lips. “But when it comes to truly knowing me, I need her to step forward on her own. No running off at the first nudge. I need to fill her eyes, her heart, her everything. I need her to be unable to walk away from me.”
Her words rang with bold confidence. Qin Zheng felt defeat settle deep in her chest. “You’re incredible,” she said, envy clear in her voice.
“You’ve only seen my strong side—I haven’t let you glimpse my weaknesses,” Shen Wanqing replied, her smile fading into seriousness. “I have flaws. Fatal ones, even. Things I bury deep and only ever show her, in the end. If she can accept every last one, then I’ll know she truly can’t live without me.”
“You love her so much,” Qin Zheng said, forcing a smile. “You never once said the word ‘love,’ but right now, she’s all I see in your eyes and hear in your heart.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “It’s only today that I’ve realized something—you’re the one between you two who’s actually chasing real love. Lulu’s so straightforward. She might not even get you.”
“It’s not a ‘might’—she doesn’t get it at all.” Shen Wanqing pulled out her phone and showed Qin Zheng the screen. It was a message Lu Zhixia had just sent. “See for yourself.”
The message read: “Aaaah, Shen Wanqing, I hate you! You’re the one they’ve got marriage plans for—why the hell are you messing with me? I hate you, wuuu!”
It was a screenshot. Lu Zhixia had fired it off seconds ago, then yanked it back.
Bitterness welled up in Qin Zheng’s chest. Lu Zhixia had never thrown a tantrum like that with her—never acted so spoiled. To Qin Zheng, she’d always been like a little grown-up at her side, shielding her, her rock to lean on.
“Can I call you Wanqing from now on?”
“Of course.”
“Wanqing, you’ve shared so much with me. I don’t want to talk about myself—you wouldn’t be interested anyway. Let me tell you about the Lulu I know instead. The way she is now… it’s all tied to what she’s been through.”
Buzz. Shen Wanqing’s phone vibrated again. Both women glanced over as Lu Zhixia’s avatar lit up on the screen.
Shen Wanqing snapped a screenshot right then, and Lu Zhixia hit withdraw an instant later.
But they’d both gotten a good look at the photo Lu Zhixia had sent. Qin Zheng clapped a hand over her face, turning away with a flustered scold. “You shameless little punk!”
