Chapter 8: The Boss And Her White Little Lotus
Yu Liuxue opened her mouth, wanting to argue, to speak, but the words faltered. Lin Qingyin captured her lips one last time in a soft, lingering kiss, full of warmth and promise, their foreheads pressed together, bodies still pressed close, hands entwined, breathing mingling, the room charged with unspoken tension.
Before they could linger longer, the sound of hurried footsteps cut through the intimacy. Lin Qingyin's assistant burst in, eyes wide, tone tight with excitement. "Sister Qingyin, Yao Shao is here…"
Yu Liuxue blinked, flushed, caught between the lingering heat of the kiss and the sudden intrusion, while Lin Qingyin's hand tightened around hers just slightly, a subtle reassurance in the midst of disruption.
The door remained wide open, leaving the scene inside unobstructed. The assistant froze, taking in the sight of Yu Liuxue on the bed, biting her lip as though she might cry, yet not shedding a single tear.
Her small, delicate hands clutched at Lin Qingyin's fingers, and her wide, luminous eyes — bright, almost trembling — made the assistant's thoughts scatter. Why is Qingwu holding Sister Qingyin's fingers like that? And why does she look like she's about to be bullied… or cry?
The assistant looked to Lin Qingyin for guidance, half - expecting an explanation. Lin Qingyin, calm as ever, retracted her fingers and lifted her chin gracefully.
"You go down first. I'll come later," she said, her voice smooth, almost teasing, though tempered with quiet warmth.
"Sister Qingyin…" The assistant froze, confusion written across her face. This isn't at all what I imagined…
Lin Qingyin's eyes flicked back to Yu Liuxue, a faint glint of deterrence mixed with concern. "Qingwu, she's not feeling well. I'll stay with her for a while," she said, every word carefully measured, calm yet intimate, leaving no doubt about who held sway in this delicate moment.
Before leaving, she made sure to close the door behind her. The click echoed softly, cocooning them in a private world, safe from prying eyes and protecting the image of the artist while allowing something more tender and dangerous to flourish.
Yu Liuxue blinked rapidly, brushing away the crocodile tears clinging stubbornly to her lashes. She propped herself up on her elbows, straightening her posture, shaking off any remaining weakness. The bright light of her eyes now shimmered with determination, and just a touch of mischief — a dangerous, intoxicating combination.
"Brother Yishu is coming?" she asked softly, her voice raspy just slightly, eyes glistening, a warm red hue at the corners adding to the vividness of the moment.
The picture was striking: the delicate glow of her skin, the wetness of her lashes catching the sunlight, her pink lips slightly parted, and the faint sheen of sweat along her neck from the earlier tension. Lin Qingyin's mood, however, flickered with irritation at the mention of Yao Yishu.
"Mm," she replied, careful not to betray her irritation, her voice clipped and composed.
Yu Liuxue slipped her feet into her slippers, her pale, delicate fingers brushing against the unfinished costume she hadn't yet managed to change out of. "Great!" she squeaked, a sudden spark of energy lighting up her small frame. She tilted her head, muttering under her breath as if addressing an invisible partner. "We can finally declare war with Yao Yishu!"
Her system stayed silent, as usual, letting her prattle on. It didn't respond — didn't correct her, didn't sigh, didn't even twitch. It just… listened. Because apparently, listening was its full - time job.
Lin Qingyin glanced at her, noting the stark contrast to the half - dead, fragile expression she had worn just moments ago. The air in her chest tightened slightly, a feeling she couldn't quite name, like a small stone pressing against her ribcage.
Yu Liuxue, impatient and bubbling with excitement, grabbed her hair twice on a whim, swung the door open, and darted downstairs.
She moved like a living thing, her energy light and unrestrained, almost as if she were weightless. Her peach - pink skirt caught the air, fluttering with each step, brushing against the corner of the wall. The jacket swung behind her like a playful banner, disappearing from view as she practically danced her way to the bottom of the stairs.
Lin Qingyin took her time, deliberately putting on a coat, wrapping it tightly around her slender frame so only her neck and face were exposed. The calm warmth of her movements contrasted with Yu Liuxue's frantic energy, and yet inside, a quiet heat simmered. Her pulse ticked faster with each sound Yu Liuxue made, a mixture of amusement, longing, and something more dangerous, like a spark she couldn't quite extinguish.
Descending the stairs, Lin Qingyin saw the tableau below. Yao Yishu sat on the sofa, a large bouquet of fiery red roses in his hands. He exuded the effortless elegance of a jade tree in bloom, posture flawless, bearing fresh and handsome in a way that drew the eye.
As Lin Qingyin approached, Yao Yishu rose gracefully, lifting the bouquet so that it was perfectly presented, bending slightly in a gesture of respect and careful charm. His suit hugged his frame just enough to show strength without arrogance, and his eyes glinted with subtle warmth.
"Qingyin, it's hard to shoot…" Yao Yishu began, voice smooth and gentlemanly, carrying both politeness and an undercurrent of intimacy.
Lin Qingyin didn't even glance at him. The bouquet remained untouched in his hands, and she didn't acknowledge him at all. Her mind was entirely elsewhere — drawn to Yu Liuxue, to the chaotic brilliance and intoxicating presence of the girl she had just shared a moment with.
Yishu's words fell like background noise, irrelevant, while every pulse of her attention lingered on Yu Liuxue's warmth, her shy moans, and the lingering tension pressed against her skin.
Yu Liuxue, downstairs, was practically vibrating with excitement. Her slippers scuffed softly across the floor as she flitted toward the sofa, skirts catching the air like petals in a spring breeze.
Her fingers brushed against the bouquet almost by accident, yet her eyes never left Lin Qingyin. The heroine hadn't even accepted Yao Yishu's flowers — hadn't looked at him, hadn't acknowledged him at all — and Yu Liuxue's chest swelled with a mix of delight and pride.
Look, look, her system whispered in her mind, brimming with approval. She's ignoring him completely. Host your the best. I bet she's thinking about you…
The tension between them was thick, almost tactile. Lin Qingyin felt it in the subtle tremor of Yu Liuxue's hands, the curve of her shoulders beneath her peach - pink fabric, the playful tilt of her head, the small bursts of laughter that rose like music through the space.
Every glance, every flicker of emotion, every teasing gesture was amplified in the confined, intimate setting, Yu Liuxue's heartbeat practically echoing in her chest as she soaked in every teasing, electric moment.
Lin Qingyin's pulse ticked faster, every careful breath and composed gesture layered with a quiet awareness of Yu Liuxue's presence. The little lotus, so bright, so chaotic, had a way of unraveling her with a single glance, a single brush of skin, and she knew it too well. The room seemed to shrink until only the three of them existed — the bouquet between Lin Qingyin and Yao Yishu, and the heat, laughter, and tension spiraling from Yu Liuxue.