Chapter 2: The Boss And Her White Little Lotus
Her fingers toyed once more with the ribbon at her waist, letting it twist loosely between her hands. She exhaled softly, imagining Qingyin, imagining the challenge ahead, imagining the subtle tension she could wield without ever leaving her seat.
Yu Liuxue's lips curved in a small, knowing smile. "Let's see if this little wish… survives me," she murmured, the words soft, teasing, yet full of a quiet, intimate promise.
The room seemed smaller now, the space between her body and the shadows tight, charged, full of potential, and every breath she drew seemed to pull the world closer, wrapping it in heat, humor, and an unspoken erotic thrill.
And so, with a soft sway of her hair, a flick of her wrist, and the quiet jingle of the chain on her ankle, Yu Liuxue — the only daughter of the Du family, the one entrusted with impossible tasks, the woman both dangerous and intoxicating — prepared to step fully into the tangled web of desire, power, and mischievous fate.
The game had begun.
Not long after the engagement had been torn apart, Yu Liuxue — still caught between her roles as the composed heiress Qing Wu and the commanding persona she now carried — noticed something that made her blood boil. Her ex - fiancé, the infamously entitled Yao Yishu, was suddenly pursuing the cool, untouchable goddess Lin Qingyin in the entertainment industry with relentless energy.
The rumors surrounding Qingyin only made the sight worse. Some whispered she was the second generation of the red aristocracy; others insisted her family ties leaned toward politics, while still others insisted she came from officials of influence.
Everyone had their own theory, and none of it could be confirmed — but none of that mattered to Yu Liuxue. What mattered was the sight of him, the man who had once pledged to her, now so enamored with someone else that it cut like ice through her chest.
Yu Liuxue clenched her slender fingers into fists, her nails pressing lightly against her palms. Her golden skirt shimmered faintly in the soft light of her room as she leaned over the desk, scanning the outline of the world's story again.
She had to keep reminding herself: this was a narrative she had been dropped into, a storyline laid out in cold, unforgiving strokes. And yet, the sting of jealousy that bloomed in her chest was visceral, unavoidable.
"Are you kidding me?" she murmured, her voice both amused and exasperated. The faint slope of her head and the curve of her lips betrayed the storm beneath her composed exterior. "Yao Yishu, you absolute moron. The audacity…" She pinched the bridge of her nose, then let out a low chuckle, bitter and sharp. "And everyone thinks I'm the problem in this story?"
The memory of the engagement breakup replayed vividly. At first, she had tried to ignore it, to stay aloof and keep the professional detachment that her other - worldly self demanded. But then the news came.
Lin Qingyin — the ethereal, poised, untouchable goddess - like beauty — was being chased with a fervor that Yu Liuxue had reserved only for herself. And worse, she learned it from her own assistant, who had been gushing gossip under the guise of casual conversation.
The green of Yu Liuxue's eyes flared with a heat that was both intoxicating and dangerous. "Three years of good behavior, and she's still getting in the way?" she murmured, pacing slowly across her apartment.
The silk of her peach - pink skirt swished softly, brushing against her smooth calves. Her wrist, peeking out of the wide cuff, caught the soft overhead light, the skin almost translucent, delicate yet alive with tension. She flexed her fingers, feeling the subtle pulse of energy in her veins as if the very air around her was charged with the scent of trouble.
The first instinct of Yu Liuxue — the commanding, calculated part of her — was to strike preemptively. She could sense it in the tension that curled along her spine, in the way her muscles tensed and relaxed like a predator readying for a hunt.
She stormed toward Lin Qingyin's studio, the gold and pink fabric of her skirt shifting with her every step, her heels clicking with authority on the polished floor. Every movement radiated power, grace, and a hint of dangerous playfulness.
But fate, or perhaps the cruel hand of narrative design, had other plans. The moment she arrived, cameras flashed. Paparazzi, stationed for months around Qingyin's studio, captured every second, every flicker of emotion, every flick of hair and glance.
By the end of the day, Yu Liuxue — the formidable, beautiful Qing Wu — was trending online, her carefully maintained reputation in tatters. The headlines twisted the narrative, painting her as the jealous, impulsive ex who couldn't handle rejection, while Lin Qingyin remained untouchable, untarnished, serene in the public eye.
Yu Liuxue stopped mid - step as she read the news, the soft sway of her hair brushing her shoulders. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the flush of humiliation and simmering fury.
Her mind raced, the logic of her other - worldly knowledge of the story colliding with the raw, human surge of jealousy. Am I supposed to sit back and watch this? she thought. The absurdity of it made her lips twitch into a bitter smile.
As the story spread, Yao Yishu acted swiftly. Once he learned of her visit to Qingyin's studio, he ordered all contact to be blocked. The financial levers tightened, opportunities vanished, and Yu Liuxue found herself not just heartbroken but trapped.
Money dried up, debts mounted, and finally, after being forcibly evicted from a small rental apartment, the humiliation became unbearable. The story's world had planned her downfall: love and career, both collapsing in a single, orchestrated crescendo.
On a cold night, driven by despair, Qing Wu — her heart heavy, mind teetering on the edge — had once considered ending it all. The icy river called to her, the dark water reflecting her turmoil.
In that moment, the thoughts were raw and unfiltered: regrets, rage, and an urgent wish to rewrite the wrongs of the world she had been thrust into. If she could start over, she vowed, she would make Lin Qingyin pay a price — if only to teach the untouchable goddess that seducing men came with consequences.
But Yu Liuxue, existing across worlds and endowed with the knowledge of the story, felt a twinge of exasperation. "I swear, this girl must have a brain problem," she muttered to herself, leaning back against her sofa.
The soft light glinted off her fair skin, highlighting the elegant curve of her neck and the delicate sweep of her shoulders. Her golden skirt shimmered faintly as she stretched one leg lazily, the chain around her ankle jingling with her subtle movement. "The scum is obviously Yao Yishu, and she's chasing shadows instead of the real problem…"
Her lips curled into a sardonic smile, and she allowed herself a moment of humor, imagining the chaos she could unleash. She leaned forward, her fingertips brushing the smooth fabric of her skirt as if testing the air for tension, plotting subtle maneuvers in her mind.
Even in despair, there was a thrill — the intoxicating heat of possibility, the electric anticipation of bending events to her will, and perhaps even twisting Lin Qingyin's serene composure.