Chapter 13: The Boss And Her White Little Lotus
"You understand perfectly." she said, her voice low and deliberate.
Heat pooled low in Yu Zixue's stomach. Her shirt was thin; she suddenly felt every subtle curve exposed, every line of muscle beneath her skin. Lin Qinglan's fingers brushed lightly over her waist, not lingering, yet leaving an electric shiver in their wake.
"If you pretend to be sick again," Lin Qinglan added, calm, her tone deliberate, "I will personally verify it."
The implication made Yu Zixue's knees feel weak. Verify? How exactly? Her imagination ran wild, and she laughed, a soft, teasing sound. "Qinglan, you're so serious."
Lin Qinglan straightened but before stepping away, adjusted the collar of Yu Zixue's shirt with careful fingers — too gentle, almost intimate.
"Go back and rest," she said. "We have work tomorrow."
Yu Zixue watched her walk away, tall, composed, restrained — but the slight stiffness in Lin Qinglan's posture betrayed everything. Yu Zixue's lips curved slowly. The heroine was definitely not as indifferent as she pretended to be. And that realization made the night feel infinitely more interesting.
The door clicked behind them as they stepped into the director's office. Lin Qinglan walked with effortless grace, aura composed, posture straight, while Yu Zixue trailed slightly behind, deliberately letting her gaze wander over the room — and over Lin Qinglan.
Yu Zixue lazily leaned back in the chair nearest the desk, one ankle crossed over the other, scrolling through her phone as the director droned on, reviewing the script.
She barely registered his muttering about dialogue inconsistencies; her mind was elsewhere.
Entertainment news always offered juicier melons than any plot, and today, it felt like the biggest melon had landed right on her own head.
Lin Qinglan, meanwhile, stood near the director's side, hand lightly brushing the edge of the desk as she read the pages he held. Calm, alert, ever the composed professional.
Occasionally, her gaze flicked toward Yu Zixue, sprawled in the chair with shameless ease, a small, unreadable smirk tugging at her lips.
Yu Zixue caught it immediately. Her pulse skipped. Oh, she sees me, she thought, smirking inwardly. Perfect.
The room smelled faintly of coffee and paper — mundane — but the air between them was anything but ordinary. Even here, in the director's office, the tension lingered, playful and electric, threaded through every glance, every small movement, every almost imperceptible brush of energy toward each other.
A notification pinged. She frowned and tapped the screen.
The voiceless little bun: "Congratulations to Ruxue for rejecting Xiao Qinglan! Has Ruxue been rejected by Young Master Yao again today? Rejected."
Yu Zixue puffed her cheeks, pressing her lips together. "Aiyu," she muttered to her system, "why does it feel like this fan is mocking me?"
The host is confident. She is mocking you, Aiyu replied.
Yu Zixue rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, I'm not even trying… it's ridiculous.
Ridiculous indeed, Aiyu agreed, teasing. But consider… before you transmigrated here, the original Ruxue accumulated so much black material, it's almost impressive. Arrogance to the max. Gossip piled like mountains. She practically built a career of drama.
Yu Zixue pinched the bridge of her nose. Ugh… how did she live with herself?
Host, Aiyu continued, sharper now, you're doing far better. Subtle, strategic, far more charming than she ever was. Keep focused. Every step, every glance, every carefully timed smile… it's working.
Yu Zixue smirked faintly, leaning back against the chair. Hmm… so all that black material, all that arrogance, was just a bad blueprint for me. Got it.
Exactly, Aiyu replied, playful sarcasm threading the words. Don't get distracted by petty gossip. You're Du Ruxue now. You're in control. Use it. Mock them all, laugh a little, and continue your mission. You're doing great.
Yu Zixue's lips curved into a satisfied smile, fingers hovering over her phone as she lingered on the endless waves of gossip. Maybe I'll read a little… just to see how amusing they are.
Careful host… , Aiyu murmured. Yes, entertain wisely. And yes, your clever little white lotus act is working beautifully.
Yu Zixue groaned softly, swiping her phone. Fingers paused, frowning. "Too much… how can people even say this? Little white lotus."
Lin Qinglan appeared quietly at her side, a small bag of medicine in her hand. Her dark eyes flicked over Yu Zixue's lips and then retracted, measured, controlled. The subtle gravity of her presence made the space feel warmer, closer, charged in ways the mundane surroundings could not match.
"What's wrong?" Lin Qinglan's voice was soft, low, but intimate, a sound that could make someone shiver without a single touch.
Yu Zixue handed over her phone, pressing the corner of her mouth in a mock pout. "Your fans are blackmailing me again," she complained, half - teasing, half - exasperated.
Lin Qinglan glanced at the screen, her gaze precise and steady. Comments scrolled past in rapid, unrelenting waves:
"Du Ruxue is pestering Yao Yinuo again. Is Lin Qinglan the reason?"
"Du Ruxue debuted at the same time as Lin Qinglan. She's still trying to catch up."
Lin Qinglan's expression didn't change. "You've been reading your own comments," she said softly, voice even, yet the faint glimmer in her eyes sharpened subtly.
Yu Zixue blinked. "…They're about me?"
"Yes," Lin Qinglan replied, calm, deliberate. "Ruxue… that's you. Fans call you that. And they're obsessed with you being involved with Yao Yinuo. Some even blame me."
Yu Zixue's chest tightened slightly. "…So all this panic, all this drama…" She tapped at her phone. "…it's really about me?"
Lin Qinglan nodded faintly, collected. "You've tried to catch up with me for years, but you've never reached even one percent of my 'sweetheart' position in the circle. And now your ex - fiancé starts pursuing me again… panic and jealousy mix with desire. You confront me everywhere just to get my attention, just for one glance."
Yu Zixue's lips curved into a playful smirk as understanding dawned. "…Oh. I get it now. So all the headlines, the posts… they're about me, but the reason is… you?"
Lin Qinglan's lips curved faintly, a subtle, almost ghosted smile. "I didn't say it like that," she murmured, calm, yet there was heat in her dark eyes. "…You're tangled up in your own mess. Fans just notice."
Yu Zixue laughed softly, leaning back. "So… Du Ruxue and Lin Qinglan are locked in… a battle of attention. And my role is?" Her smirk deepened, teasing, dangerous. "Marry them? Bed them? Immediately?"
I'm supposed to be subtle… but this is too tempting, she thought, smirking inwardly.
Lin Qinglan returned the phone without a word. Her expression was subtle, unreadable, but the faint curve at the corner of her lips gave away amusement. The silence alone carried weight — heavy with unspoken meaning.
Yu Zixue's tone softened, deceptively innocent. "Or maybe… I'm just here to cheer for the winner?" She batted her eyelashes lightly, tilting her head, letting the question hang like a feather in the air.
Lin Qinglan's gaze lingered on her, sharp, measured, yet with a glimmer of curiosity. "Cheer?" she echoed, voice low, almost teasing. "Do you usually cheer for chaos, or just… special people?"
Yu Zixue's smile widened, the sweetness of her voice wrapping around the words.