Foolishly Flirting with the White Moonlight Leads to Being Marked - Chapter 14

After the message was sent, sure enough, Song Qingre did not reply for a long time.

As expected, so tsundere.

But that did not affect Yan Qingqiu’s performance: [If you don’t pay me back, I’ll go to your company every day and pester you for it!]

After sending it, Yan Qingqiu thought about it and felt that she was too vicious. She was simply a full-fledged evil-woman character.

She had lent Song Qingre one million, kissed her, made her serve her with handicraft work, and in the end… still wanted the other person to repay the one million.

Yan Qingqiu suddenly sobered up.

She had been squeezing Song Qingre, this little citrus, dry all this time. What if Song Qingre’s wings hardened in the future and she killed her?

But this could not be blamed on her. Song Qingre’s personality was too stubborn. At the very least, she should come negotiate with her and say she would repay five hundred thousand, or three or four hundred thousand.

Ai. Female leads were usually more resilient. They were not like supporting female characters like her, who had no integrity.

Yan Qingqiu turned her phone face-down. After waiting a while, another message came in. She had originally been about to send a voice message, but then she glanced at who had sent it.

Uncle Dong · Butler: [Sending you personal resume]

“…?”

Yan Qingqiu closed her eyes, sat up, and downloaded the resume.

Name: Dong Hai

Current position: Senior Butler
Part-time: Romance Novelist

Graduated from: CkButler, a world-class butler academy
Speaks eight languages, seventh dan in combat, black belt…

A little later, the butler came upstairs to call her for dinner. She did not go down. It was too embarrassing. Her toes were curling.

Yan Qingqiu breathed out and took out the butler’s update to read. She even went to pour herself a cup of tea. Personally, she really did quite like reading the stories the butler wrote.

[Regarding Miss, besides moonlight, there were also coins.

During those days, heavy rain fell without end. Rain and light fell strand by strand onto the coins. The coins Miss had once thrown around for fun, a few yuan at a time, were now all picked up and stuffed full into her pockets. Miss pushed a tripod over, stepped onto the top of the wall, and climbed into Miss Song’s courtyard.

The money in her pockets scattered all over the ground, and the moonlight also spilled slantwise across the floor.

Miss was only fourteen at the time. She fell, then climbed back up. Climbed up, then fell again. In the years before that, she had lived a life of being held in the palms of people’s hands. If she fell once, she would burst into loud tears. I had wanted to go help her, but Sir said that children had to learn to stand up by themselves.

Night after night, the figure on the wall became gradually more skilled at climbing over.

Unfortunately, during those days, the rain never stopped. Miss wore a raincoat and always carried a pile of things from home before jumping down, like a little thief stealing things.

Finally, Miss Song, who had not appeared for several days, stood beneath the wall. She opened her arms, and Miss jumped down without caring about anything. Mud splashed up, and two small bodies fell into the dirt.

I watched clearly from upstairs. Miss did not jump into her arms. She deliberately shifted her position and chose to avoid Miss Song. She had already been skilled at it, but that time she fell very hard, and a cut was even scraped onto her arm.

Miss Song anxiously went to check on her. “Are you stupid? What if you got hurt?”

The person who usually loved to cry only pursed her lips. She patted the mud off herself. “I’m not hurt. What if I crushed you and hurt you? I can’t bear to see you cry.”

The rain was still heavy, and Miss Song also cried fiercely, leaning against her shoulder and sobbing.

“Look, I almost fell to death, but it’s fine. In the future, don’t be afraid. I’ll support you. From now on, I won’t randomly spend the money my dad gives me. Supporting you will still be very easy.” Miss patted her shoulder.

“This is our secret. We can’t let my dad know.”

“All right, stop crying.” Miss reached out and wiped her eyes. “I’m not hurt. In the future, we’ll be together forever. You have me.”

“No matter how the world changes, the person I like most is you.”

“If you’re embarrassed, you can call me Qiuqiu-jiejie.”

Miss Song did not make a sound. Miss wiped until her hands were wet.

When Miss Song was fifteen, both her parents passed away. This was an unchangeable trajectory, but Miss’s hands, stained with mud and rainwater, pulled her out handful by handful.

She stood up and reached her hand out to Miss Song.

And Miss Song placed her hand in hers.

The rain stopped. The Song family’s courtyard gate opened. Miss Song came to our house and brought a painting. I did not see what was painted on it. Miss hid it away mysteriously.

During the few days when the sky cleared, Miss Song would often come to the courtyard to paint. She set up a tall easel, and the two of them hid behind it to secretly apply medicine.

I had the fortune of seeing that painting once. It was of our young miss. Its name was Blonde Princess, a very fairytale-like name.

Later, that painting won an award. Miss Song’s talent burst into view, and she was praised as a spiritual artist.

Only, later on, the painting… ai…]

Yan Qingqiu: “?”

What happened later? Why did the butler stop writing?

She held the paper and flipped it over and over, carefully looking at the “…” at the end. They were all dots pressed out by the butler’s pen tip. It could be seen that he was very melancholy. When he put pen to paper, it had been difficult, and he could no longer continue recalling.

Once Yan Qingqiu was not so embarrassed anymore, she went to stand by the window. The butler was in the courtyard talking to the tile workers about repairing the courtyard wall. Wearing a tailcoat and glasses, he looked like such a gentlemanly and proper person. How could he write stories with so much emotion, so much love, and so much allure? It made her a little sad.

She watched for a while, then went downstairs. The butler looked at her in confusion and asked, “Miss, is something the matter?”

It was all because Song Qingre had tagged her on Moments that Yan Qingqiu had started feeling embarrassed. She said, “Come upstairs and help me hang a painting.”

“All right, Miss.” The butler followed behind her. Yan Qingqiu kept feeling like he was smiling. She turned her head to look at him, and the butler pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I do want to laugh a little, but I can hold it in.”

Yan Qingqiu pointed at the oil painting that had just been unpacked in her room. “It’s this painting, right? Golden Hair. Hang it up.”

The butler walked to stand directly opposite the painting and shook his head. “No. This is Golden Hair, not Blonde Princess. Although Golden Hair achieved the highest success, I personally think Blonde Princess is better.”

The style of Golden Hair was rather abstract. The morning sun leapt up from the ground, and the golden light turned into a young girl’s long hair. The moment the golden hair broke away from the ground, the earth became a dark, oppressive expanse. Silent. Stifling.

Yan Qingqiu felt strongly uncomfortable. This painting was not suitable to hang in her room. She had taken it out only to test whether this was the painting from the writing. The butler said, “This painting does not seem suitable to hang up.” If this painting were truly sold, it would be worth at least ten million.

He suggested, “Why not hang the others up and lock this Golden Hair away? This counts as your personal property.”

After Yan Qingqiu dyed her hair back, hearing this sentence felt somewhat unlucky. Fortunately, she was not that superstitious. Most of the paintings bought yesterday had been bought with “Father’s” money. Only this gifted painting could truly count as hers personally. “Fine. Lock it away.”

“Then the first painting and Blonde Princess…”

Yan Qingqiu swallowed her words several times, but in the end, she truly could not hold back. She bit her lip, kept a stern face, and said, “In the future, you’re not allowed to learn from others and stop at cliffhangers. You don’t learn the good things, only the bad. Update properly. Write everything in one breath. Being left hanging like this is really uncomfortable.”

The butler sighed. “The main reason I didn’t write it was because I was afraid it would hurt you.”

Yan Qingqiu shivered. Was it going to turn tragic later?

Her brain’s first thought was: No way. My CP cannot be sad. I’m crying.

After thinking that: Am I sick?

Yan Qingqiu could not help lowering her voice and asking, “What happened to the painting in the end?”

“Didn’t you burn it? Have you forgotten? You burned it right in front of Miss Song.”

“Huh?” Yan Qingqiu froze.

The butler said, “If you want to see it, I’ll write it out next time. Telling it to you directly is indeed too painful. Oh, right. Miss Song is busy at the studio, so she will not be coming back for now today.”

After hearing this section, Yan Qingqiu deeply regretted it.

That whole night, Yan Qingqiu felt especially uncomfortable, clutching her chest because it hurt so badly. During that time, she could not sleep and lay on her stomach scrolling through videos. She did not know whether it was coincidence or if big data was watching her, but she scrolled to a line:

“I light tall incense to honor the gods, to ease the injustice in my heart. Then I raise the incense above my head, resenting that I cannot remain untouched by mortal sorrow.”

Pain. Too painful.

Miss Song and Miss Yan were simply the kind of regret that could not be settled!

Yan Qingqiu really could not sleep. Lying at the edge of the bed, she thought over and over that she had to do something. Late at night, at several o’clock in the morning, she turned on the light and sat at the desk beside the bed. She picked up the butler’s manuscript and held a pen, planning to continue the ending herself. This story absolutely could not become a BE. Then she placed her phone on top of the paper, opened her chat page with Song Qingre, and pressed the voice message button. “Song Qingre, are you asleep?”

Immediately after that, she crossed out all the “…” at the end of the butler’s manuscript. While waiting for Song Qingre, she began recording again. She wrote:

[That night in 20XX, Miss Yan, twenty-four years old, crossed time and space to arrive. All was silent, yet it could not withstand the surging tide of her heart. She pressed the voice message button and anxiously sent Miss Song a message: “Song Qingre, are you asleep?” This was a dialogue across time and space, the first greeting Miss Yan gave Miss Song after many years of separation.]

She looked at her phone again. There was no response. First, she changed the other person’s name to “Miss Song,” then prepared to send a message. After editing for a long time and still not sending it, she continued writing:

[Miss Yan deleted and revised the words in the chat box, yet did not know what to say. She waited, kept waiting. Outside the window, the moonlight was vast and hazy. Would Miss Song reply to her?]

But in reality, half an hour passed, and there was still no reply.

Put in some effort, Song Qingre!

Yan Qingqiu was furious. Don’t make this tragic! After thinking about it, she decided she might as well make it up herself!

Finally, the phone rang. Two consecutive “ding-dong” sounds. A message came from the other side!

She looked again. Two voice messages. One was 5 seconds, and the other was 8 seconds.

Yan Qingqiu held the pen and continued writing:

[Miss Song said: “]

She opened the voice message and listened seriously to what the other side said.

Song Qingre’s voice was lazy, its unique tone gentle and magnetic. In the night, it was so alluring that it made one’s ears lose focus. She said, “Good evening. Technician 198 is at your service.”

Song Qingre: “May I ask whether you need a massage with special techniques, or my specially expanded service of human body painting?”

Author’s Note:

I choose human body painting.

Don’t think I’m short. You have no idea how long I acted as a technician in my contacts list for the sake of these two voice messages. Crying. My good friend’s husband even thought she was keeping a mistress.

Don’t believe me? Go find someone and try it! It really is 6 seconds and 8 seconds.

P.S.: “I light tall incense to honor the gods, to ease the injustice in my heart. Then I raise the incense above my head, resenting that I cannot remain untouched by mortal sorrow”—from Miscellaneous Poems of Ji Hai. This is what I found when I looked it up. There seem to be many sources, but most say it is this. If not, I’ll change it later.