A Hidden Marriage Daily Life with the Film Empress O - Chapter 10

She understood Chang Qingyuan too well. Beneath that cold, exquisite face was a true top-tier academic genius with both intelligence and looks. Back when she had followed that important figure, her future had been bright. She clearly had better opportunities to go abroad, yet she had plunged headfirst into the muddy waters that were Si Beimuo.

“I do love her. How could I not?”

Chang Qingyuan smiled. Her laugh was very soft, like wind passing over bells, yet the end of it carried a faint, barely noticeable malice, like a child who had secretly hidden candy but deliberately let the corner of the wrapper show.

Bai Qiu shook her head. She truly could not understand her anymore.

As she packed up the scattered medicine bottles, she reminded her again, still worried, “Fortunately, these injuries didn’t reach the bones, but you really have to be careful. The people of the Si Bei family are all lunatics.”

She looked at Chang Qingyuan’s thin back and sighed inwardly. This person was only twenty-four. She should have been at the age of youthful ambition. Why did she refuse to walk down a bright, open path and insist on staying with a plague god like Si Beimuo?

Chang Qingyuan did not answer again. She simply leaned back into the sofa and looked toward the tightly shut bedroom door. Beneath the calm in her eyes was a very faint, almost crazed smile.

The light cast a long shadow over her body—gentle, beautiful, and carrying a kind of unfathomable danger. She was like a carefully crafted statue of a god that could lure people into sinking, with an unknown night hidden in her eyes.

That habitual faint smile of hers did not even waver. Only when Bai Qiu turned around did a dark glint flash extremely quickly past the corners of her eyes.

Bai Qiu’s footsteps disappeared outside the door. The moment the door lock clicked shut, the gentleness on Chang Qingyuan’s face finally receded like the tide.

She did not look at the clock on the wall, nor did she touch the glass of water on the table. She only used her uninjured hand to support herself against the armrest of the sofa and stood up extremely slowly.

She turned her head and looked toward the corner of the living room. There, shattered glass covered the floor. Water stains had spread across the carpet, and several scattered flower petals were stained with dirt, looking very much like the surging, painful, yet crazed red in that person’s eyes when she had lost control earlier.

That was her lover, the pet she had personally raised in the palm of her hand. Usually, she was so obedient that she would rub against the hollow of Chang Qingyuan’s neck and act spoiled. But once she went mad, she could bite through Chang Qingyuan’s bones in a single snap.

Chang Qingyuan slowly raised her uninjured left hand and opened her palm. Lying inside was a small medicine bottle that Bai Qiu had left behind earlier, medicine specifically meant to treat mania.

She pinched the bottle and shook it. The white pills rolled around inside the transparent container, making tiny sounds, just like the suppressed whimpering caught in that person’s throat before she lost control.

After a long while, she suddenly laughed. The sound was very soft, carrying the faint rustle of white gauze brushing against fabric. In the quiet room, it seemed especially eerie.

She lifted the medicine bottle in front of her eyes and held it up against the daylight seeping in from outside the window, watching those pills give off a cold white sheen beneath the light, like pieces of candy laced with poison.

“Your illness needs to get worse.”

She spoke to the empty air, her voice soft as cotton, yet the end of her words hooked like a barb, carrying an almost cruel pleasure.

Broken bones could be set. Split wounds could be stitched. But this mania—this was the rein she held in her hand.

She brought the medicine bottle close to her nose and sniffed it lightly. The plastic bottle carried a faint medicinal smell, mixed with the scent of blood still not fully dried on her own body.

Only then did she slowly open the cap and pour the pills into her palm. The small white grains rolled around in her pale hand.

“If something breaks, it can’t be glued back together properly.”

She whispered to the pills in her hand, but her gaze drifted toward the mess in the corner. Her smile was so gentle it was almost sick.

“Just like us… Only after bones are broken and blood is spilled do we become even more inseparable.”

She raised her hand and poured every single pill in her palm into the trash can. Her movements were gentle and slow, carrying a kind of sacrificial devotion. The tiles reflected cold light, shining in her eyes. There was no hatred, no resentment—only a thick, almost insane possessiveness.

Outside the window, the sky had already begun to turn pale like the belly of a fish. Pale blue daylight slipped in through the gap in the curtains, casting a long, thin strip of light across the floor.

Chang Qingyuan stood at the bedroom door, still carrying the faintly cool dampness of having just washed. She had gone to the bathroom earlier to clean herself up briefly.

She stood at the doorway for a long time, her gaze fixed on the tightly shut bedroom door. Her fingertips unconsciously rubbed at her cuff. Only after thinking for quite a while did she push the door open and enter.

The layout of the room was so familiar to her that it could not be more familiar. Posters of Si Beimuo from when she had won awards hung on the walls. A photo of the two of them sat on the bedside table. Even the air was filled with the cedarwood perfume Si Beimuo often used, mixed with a faint smell of alcohol.

The Film Empress on the bed, who was always bright and dazzling on the big screen, her aura fully unleashed, had now stripped away all her defenses. She was curled up beneath the blanket, her brows faintly furrowed, as if she were having an uneasy dream.

Chang Qingyuan made her footsteps very light. When she reached the bedside, she slowly lifted the blanket and lay down facing her.

The distance between them abruptly closed. She could clearly see the exhaustion on the Omega’s face—the dark circles beneath her eyes, her slightly chapped lips, and the reddened corners of her eyes from the hangover.

This face was the one she had pasted into her diary when she was young. It was the person she had longed for day and night, almost obsessively. It was the light that had supported her through countless darknesses.

She stared at the Omega for a long time. The emotions surging in her eyes gradually settled, finally turning into an almost devout obsession.

In the end, she could not hold back. She turned slightly, leaned closer, and placed an extremely light kiss on Si Beimuo’s thin lips, carrying the coolness of her own body temperature.

“I am your medicine.”

She spoke slowly, so softly that only she herself could hear it.