Leave If You Dare! (GL) - Chapter 8

Having x-rated fantasies about one’s own daughter was something Qin Ximo had never imagined. At first, she thought the one-night stand with a girl named Lin Zi was nothing more than an extremely random coincidence. But when Lin Zi appeared before her again, that coincidence had escalated into something far from accidental.

Unintentionally sleeping with someone she called her daughter would probably invite divine retribution.

Qin Ximo mocked herself inwardly. The strange, fermenting sensation in her heart seemed to spiral endlessly, like a hand reaching out from her ventricles, clawing wildly at her internal organs—agonizing yet inescapable.

Fortunately, Qin Ximo prided herself on being supremely rational. If this was the extent of her emotional turmoil, she could suppress it with silent restraint.

“Madam, the guest list for the master’s longevity banquet has been drafted. Please review it.” Xue Xue’er, Qin Ximo’s personal assistant, knocked on the door and stood respectfully by the entrance. Xue Xue’er had been by Qin Ximo’s side since her maiden days, following her even after she married into the Lin family. From a young follower to the efficient and capable personal assistant she was now, all the Lin family staff privately referred to the two of them as Bai Suzhen and Xiao Qing.

Qin Ximo opened her eyes, and only then did Xue Xue’er step into the room, handing her the list. Qin Ximo flipped through the pages when a name suddenly came to mind—Lin Zi, the renowned eldest daughter of the Lin family, who had been lingering in her thoughts since earlier. Should she be invited to Lin Wangran’s longevity banquet, meant to ward off misfortune?

Qin Ximo’s fingers paused lightly on the page. Just that slight hesitation was enough for Xue Xue’er to sense her contemplation. She leaned in slightly and asked, “Does Madam feel someone has been overlooked?”

Qin Ximo turned the page down. “I thought of a special guest.”

Xue Xue’er immediately pulled out a notepad to jot it down, but Qin Ximo said, “I’ll extend the invitation personally.”

Xue Xue’er was slightly taken aback. No guest was important enough to warrant Qin Ximo’s personal invitation—not even the senior directors and managers Lin Wangran had listed as key figures in the Lin Corporation, who merely received handwritten invitations from Qin Ximo. But the guest she had just mentioned—was her status truly that exceptional?

Behind every anomaly lay hidden truths. Having witnessed the treacherous schemes and deceit of the business world all these years by Qin Ximo’s side, Xue Xue’er understood the rules of the jungle all too well. So, she wisely chose silence.

Qin Ximo drove from the parking lot of Donglin Tower to the bustling city center, parking not far from the famous youth hotspot. From here, she had a clear view of the Cocoa Milk Tea Shop’s activities. She had timed it perfectly—Lin Zi would be on shift now, and after the busiest period around 7:30 p.m., she would mostly be free. By 8:30, Lin Zi would clock out and head home.

At this hour, office workers on their way home and students sneaking out during evening study sessions crowded outside the milk tea shop, forming two long, dense queues. From her vantage point, Qin Ximo could only see a sea of bobbing heads. Inside the shop, two or three servers in fruit-patterned uniforms and comically large apple hats bustled about frantically. Qin Ximo couldn’t make out which one was Lin Zi.

Half an hour passed quickly. After the peak period ended, the crowd noticeably thinned, and the people blocking the shop entrance gradually dispersed. Qin Ximo narrowed her eyes and observed for a while, realizing that the original three servers had now dwindled to just one. That cream-white boy clearly wasn’t Lin Zi.

Qin Ximo suddenly felt inexplicably restless. Subconsciously, she wondered if she had missed something in a momentary lapse, but upon reflection, she knew that was impossible. Given the accuracy of the information she possessed, she couldn’t have mistaken Lin Zi’s routine—especially in such a bustling marketplace where schedules were strictly timed according to peak and off-peak hours. Such arrangements rarely changed.

Yet Qin Ximo couldn’t shake her agitation. Gripping the steering wheel, her index finger tapped lightly against the smooth surface, her mood regressing to a decade ago when she had waited in a small park near her school for her first date—naive, anxious, uncertain of everything, yet still harboring an inexplicable, almost devout conviction and anticipation for the budding emotions.

The Qin Ximo of today was no longer that inexperienced girl. She was the chairwoman of the Lin Group, a prominent figure in the business world. Her sharp commercial acumen and decisive administrative methods ensured her ironclad control over every aspect of the Lin Group—asset allocations, cash flow directions, employee ratios, operational settlements, and projections.

Yes, everything. She could control everything. If she said east, no one dared say west.

Lin Zi was no exception.

Qin Ximo forced herself to calm down with confidence and experience. But when the milk tea shop turned off its lights and closed without Lin Zi emerging, her instincts told her something was wrong.

Lin Zi wouldn’t skip work. So, something must have happened.

Qin Ximo quickly stepped out of the car and strode toward the milk tea shop. When she appeared at the ordering counter, the cream-white boy looked puzzled but politely informed her, “Sorry, ma’am, we’re already closed.”

Qin Ximo nodded and smiled faintly. “I know. But I’m looking for someone. Could you help me?”

Her voice was as composed and gentle as ever. Her attire, demeanor, and refined speech starkly contrasted with the lively, common surroundings. The cream-white boy froze—even without much worldly experience, he immediately recognized her as someone of high status. A faint mix of awe and disbelief, typical of a young person encountering authority, flickered across his face before he mechanically nodded. “Of course.”

Qin Ximo’s lips curled slightly. Her attention had long shifted from the boy to the shop’s back area, though the inner room wasn’t visible from outside.

“Is there a colleague of yours named Lin Zi?” Qin Ximo asked.

“Lin Zi? Oh, she’s here,” the boy glanced backward. “She’s resting in the changing room. She accidentally hurt her hand while sealing a cup earlier and is stopping the bleeding now.”

Lin Zi was injured? Qin Ximo was momentarily stunned, never having anticipated such a possibility. After hearing the fair-skinned boy’s reply, she felt an overwhelming urge to rush inside and see Lin Zi immediately. Yet, the memory of Lin Zi’s icy glare and the words “You’re not my mother” flashed through her mind, and somehow, Qin Ximo suppressed her desire to check on Lin Zi further. After a brief hesitation, she smiled politely at the boy before turning to leave.

She didn’t go far. Instead, she parked her car along the roadside where Lin Zi would inevitably pass, then leaned against the vehicle with her arms crossed.

Before long, a group of three or four people came into view under the glaring streetlights, their elongated shadows stretching behind them. Qin Ximo spotted Lin Zi walking toward her.

Odd. Based on her assumptions, Lin Zi should have been alone—why was she leaving with others? Qin Ximo barely had time to dwell on this trivial doubt before Lin Zi was nearly upon her.

Lin Zi hadn’t noticed the elegantly dressed woman waiting by the roadside was Qin Ximo—not until she glanced sideways and saw Qin Ximo tilting her head slightly, offering a faint smile. Lin Zi’s first thought was, Why is Qin Ximo here, of all places, at this hour? Before she could react, a colleague tugged excitedly at her sleeve and whispered, “This lady was looking for you earlier.”

Lin Zi stopped in her tracks and said coolly, “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

Her colleagues nodded knowingly and walked off, though they couldn’t resist glancing back a few times. Qin Ximo was simply too striking—her flawless features, impeccable figure, and refined aura made her an undeniable beauty from every angle. Missing the chance to admire her would be a waste.

But for Lin Zi, seeing Qin Ximo felt like being forced to sit through the Last Supper with Jesus—an experience steeped in resignation and solemnity, one she’d rather avoid but couldn’t escape. Qin Ximo had an aura that compelled obedience. Once near her, you inevitably fell into step with her rules—her tone, her mannerisms, even how you responded to her words. It wasn’t that defiance invited punishment; it was more like being ensnared by an unseen force, helplessly drawn along.

Was it that this woman’s presence was too overpowering, or was Lin Zi simply too weak-willed?

No matter how hard she tried, Lin Zi couldn’t forget that night of entanglement with Qin Ximo—no, more accurately, the night Qin Ximo had dominated her with near-brutal intensity. She had assumed it was just a fleeting encounter with a stranger, something to be forgotten. But fate had other plans, placing this so-called “beastly queen of the bedroom” in the role of the Lin family’s matriarch—the position that should have belonged to her mother.

No matter how she looked at it, Qin Ximo was unworthy. And Lin Zi, who had once been forced into submission by her, felt even more wretched.