The person coming in is Cheng Suran.
She is bare-faced, wearing casual home clothes, with loose hair casually tied behind her head, looking like she's out for a stroll.
"Secretary Song," she looked at Song Qingluo in surprise, "Do you live here?"
Song Qingluo was about to nod, but suddenly remembered her relationship with Wen Ruoxian. If she admitted it, Wen Ruoxian would soon know that she had concealed her true residence and lied.
The lie would become a series of falling dominoes.
Thinking quickly, she said, "No, I came to see a friend."
Cheng Suran glanced past her.
Usually, when a guest visits, regardless of how good their relationship with the homeowner is, they must be accompanied upstairs by security. Cheng Suran found it strange that there was no security behind Song Qingluo.
Song Qingluo reacted quickly and casually fabricated a lie, "Oh, I often stay at my friend's house. I registered at the security office early on."
Cheng Suran didn't think much about it and nodded.
"Does CEO Cheng live here?" Song Qingluo concealed her nervousness.
"Yes, I just finished dinner, came down for a walk," Cheng Suran said cheerfully, with a faint dimple appearing on her cheek.
"That's quite a coincidence..."
Song Qingluo forced a smile, feeling suspicious inside.
The houses in the Green Shang Mansion are basically not for rent. As long as there is someone in each household, they are either visitors or homeowners. So, Song Qingluo was certain that Cheng Suran was the latter, which also meant that Cheng Suran had bought the house herself.
They're both bosses, but one enjoys a top-level riverside mansion, while Wen Ruoxian can only rent in a second-rate community.
Why?
Feeling resentful and suspicious, she recalled asking Wen Ruoxian...
But Wen Ruoxian didn't give a direct answer.
Could it be—
The more Song Qingluo thought about it, the darker it became, and the more she felt that Wen Ruoxian was being bullied. The faint smile on her face couldn't hide her inner turmoil.
"Which building does your friend live in?" Cheng Suran asked with interest, showing no intention of leaving.
Song Qingluo looked at her with extra dislike.
The spoiled Young Miss was used to being willful, and it's hard to hide her emotions. Faced with Cheng Suran's smiling face, a hint of coldness appeared in her eyes, and she responded indifferently, "CEO Cheng, I have to go upstairs now. You can continue your walk."
With that, she forced a smile and continued walking.
Cheng Suran stood still, watching her hurried figure, lips slightly parted, as if wanting to call out to her, but her voice got stuck in her throat.
As if sensing some inexplicable hostility.
“?”
...
Song Qingluo rushed into her home.
Her body felt as if it had been filled with cold water, heavy and cold. As the resentment subsided, she felt more panic—would Cheng Suran tell Wen Ruoxian?
Even if she lied about coming to see a friend, she couldn't guarantee that Wen Ruoxian wouldn't think too much.
One lie leads to a thousand more. Lies are like snowballs, getting bigger and bigger. Sustaining them until now, she feels increasingly powerless.
There will come a day when they will be consumed by them.
If Cheng Suran doesn't live in the same community as her, the lie might last longer, but now it's clearly on the verge of collapse. Today was just a chance encounter on the street, but what if they meet in the garage next time...
Song Qingluo regretted not asking Cheng Suran which building she lives in.
She also felt ridiculous. Instead of racking her brains to conceal, it would be better to tell Wen Ruoxian the truth proactively, with a good attitude, and strive for "lenient treatment."
Ruoxian is such a gentle person, she won't hold it against her.
But if she asks why she hid it?
Because she wants to live with Wen Ruoxian. Why? Because she wants to be close to Wen Ruoxian. Why? Because... she likes her.
One link leads to another.
It's a feeling she can't easily express.
Life has never been as hard as it is now, exhausting, almost reaching her limit. Every moment feels like walking on a tightrope, wavering between perseverance and letting herself fall.
A slight vibration came from her pocket.
She briefly regained clarity, took out her phone, and looked at the message Wen Ruoxian sent:
[Is the rehearsal over?]
Song Qingluo's heart skipped a beat.
In her brief memory, Wen Ruoxian rarely sends non-work-related messages. If she does, she would immediately write it into her "Old-fashioned Observation Diary", as clumsy as a primitive man carving on stones.
Time is like the wind, blowing away dust and sand, but unable to move boulders.
This way, she could savor it for a long time.
Now Wen Ruoxian was actively asking her...
She had already mentioned that she had a rehearsal in the afternoon and would go home in the evening. What could she want from her? If it was work, according to Wen Ruoxian's habit, she wouldn't ask first, but directly assign tasks or give orders.
The timing wasn't too early or too late, just after she bumped into Cheng Suran.
Song Qingluo felt uneasy and replied reluctantly: [Mm.]
—Did Cheng Suran tell you she just met me in her neighborhood?
She could even guess what Wen Ruoxian was going to ask.
After a while, the screen showed "typing," but there was no reply. The wait became agonizing, making her restless.
Song Qingluo couldn't help but ask: [What's wrong?]
Prude: [Nothing.]
"..."
It's over.
She must know now.
Song Qingluo felt desperate and couldn't help but blame Cheng Suran. Does she have no filter and had to tell everything to Ruoxian just because they were on good terms?
What's so great about it... As she thought about it, her eyes gradually became sour.
It was indeed great.
Ruoxian would question her because of Cheng Suran's words. That's great.
Tears welled up, and she adopted an attitude of "say what you want directly, don't make me guess, just be straightforward."
The chat box remained silent for a long time, showing "typing" repeatedly.
Song Qingluo prepared for the worst, thinking about how to explain it. It seemed like clubbing tonight was going to be canceled. So first, she had to explain to Chuchu, stand her up, and then immediately go to Wen Ruoxian and explain everything face-to-face...
Prude: [I'm at the supermarket. I have plenty of time today. I wanted to ask what you're having for dinner tonight, so I could buy it and make it for you. But then I remembered you're going home tonight, so I decided not to.]
Prude: [I had too much going on this afternoon and didn't switch gears in time.]
It seemed like a way to explain "I didn't disregard what you said."
Song Qingluo stared at the screen, reading these two messages repeatedly, before finally heaving a sigh of relief.
So, it wasn't...
She had wrongly accused Wen Ruoxian. Whether she had accused Cheng Suran correctly or not was still uncertain. She hadn't mentioned it today, but that didn't mean it wouldn't come up during a casual conversation in the future.
She looked at herself in the hallway mirror; her face full of vigilance.
The relief did not make Song Qingluo feel relaxed. She typed a few words sluggishly, looking at her previous sentence. Her emotions were too high; for a moment, she misunderstood and couldn't come down.
So she just replied with a set of emojis.
Wen Ruoxian sent another cute old-fashioned emoji.
The conversation ended.
Song Qingluo put down her phone, sighed, and dragged her heavy steps into her wardrobe.
In the corner by the window, was a locked cabinet. She found the key, opened it, and took out a tightly sealed wooden box, then entered the numeric code—
An old, off-white silk scarf lay peacefully inside.
The bloodstains on it had long dried into rust, like a withered rose. She moved away from her shadow, letting the light fall on it. The withered rose seemed to come back to life, vibrant.
The blood was hers.
The scarf, however, was not hers.
….
Night fell, and the bar came alive.
Dim lights flickered on the ceiling, the music was lively, the atmosphere romantic, and the air was filled with the strong scent of perfumes.
Growing up, Wen Ruoxian had only been to a bar twice. Once during her studies in Germany out of curiosity, and once today, for some purpose.
She was here to hunt.
Little did she know, the moment she stepped in, she became the prey in someone else's eyes.
Before leaving home, she applied light makeup, slightly darkening and thickening her eyeliner, and wore a fiery red lipstick she rarely used, transforming her usually cool and gentle face into something seductive, with a hint of fragmented charm.
There were no items in her wardrobe suitable for a bar, so she simply took off her average coat and came like this.
She seemed out of place among the surroundings.
She had already decided to have a drink tonight, but when she saw the variety of drinks, she hesitated. Cocktails, colorful like flowers blooming in the dark, carried a strange allure.
In the end, she chose the relatively mild "Long Island Iced Tea."
It looked more like a glass of cola with lemon juice.
Sitting alone at the bar, she could clearly feel gazes from all directions, each with its own meaning, examining her over and over again.
Wen Ruoxian instinctively felt reluctance.
She frowned unconsciously, wanting to leave. But remembering the purpose of tonight, she suppressed the thought.
She was here to sacrifice herself.
She had been dreaming of Song Qingluo constantly, the ambiguity, the vulgarity, the guilt and panic almost driving her crazy. She urgently needed an outlet, a distraction. Only when her mind was blank, would she stop thinking about nonsense. It didn't matter, as long as she filled it up.
Wen Ruoxian took a sip of her "tea."
It was cold, sweet like cola, it was very tasty.
She took out her phone, opened the app for location, and scanned the people nearby. The post was already written, just needed to be sent.
Her fingertips hovered over the button, hesitating to press it.
The cold light from the screen seemed to pity her, sorrowful yet ridiculous.
How did it come to this...
"You seem to be wearing a knockoff of this outfit." Someone sat down beside her, the voice drilling into Wen Ruoxian's ear, "I have a genuine one. Want to see a picture and add each other on WeChat?"
Wen Ruoxian looked up.
The woman had golden wolf tail hair, reaching her neck. As the dance floor lights swept over, her hair appeared almost translucent gray.
Her makeup was heavy, but not well blended. Under the lights, her makeup appeared cakey.
She was quite attractive.
For a moment, Wen Ruoxian thought of Song Qingluo's silver hair, but the styles were completely different.
Wen Ruoxian didn't understand the slang and looked at her own clothes, confused: "Knockoff?"
She bought it at a brand store.
"It's a joke," the woman laughed. "I saw a beautiful sister and wanted to add her on WeChat."
Wen Ruoxian nodded slowly: "Oh."
She felt inexplicably nervous, grabbed her glass, and took a big sip, instantly feeling more awake.
"Sorry, I don't add WeChat," she said.
"..."
The woman just smiled and said nothing more.
Wen Ruoxian felt extremely uneasy.
She hated the feeling of losing control after getting drunk. Once she couldn't control herself, it meant she could be in danger at any moment.
For what she was going to do tonight, being drunk was just the right atmosphere.
The hotel was getting closer and closer.
Two voices in her ears were arguing fiercely.