"Please, I beg you, can you not speak that way?" said Yi Qingju.
[What if you wake up sober tomorrow and kill me to silence me!?]
Qi Weiran blinked in confusion: "I won't..."
Yi Qingju: "You won't what?"
She felt his tall, straight nose nuzzling her neck, giving her goosebumps.
"Don't you like the smell of milk?" he said unconsciously, taking in the faint milky aroma from him.
Yi Qingju paused: "How old is this 'milk' granny?"
Qi Weiran's movements stopped, his sluggish brain taking a long time to respond: "A puppy's milk."
"How old is the dog?" she asked again.
Even a sober Qi Weiran would probably struggle to follow this conversation, let alone the drunk version.
So he fell silent.
Yi Qingju took the chance to try and break free from his hold: "It's late, shall we just go to sleep?"
Unexpectedly, he actually listened.
"Mm."
He let go of Yi Qingju.
As the restraint disappeared, she had just breathed a sigh of relief when an arm suddenly reached out and pulled her into an embrace.
Her vision spun.
By the time she realized what was happening, Qi Weiran had tucked her into the blanket.
[Are you a dog...still providing for others?]
The 'big dog' behind her seemed to hear it, nuzzling her even more vigorously.
Then a soft, warm sensation touched her earlobe, and his low, languid voice mumbled in her ear: "Can you tell me a story?"
Yi Qingju calmly said, "Call me 'Sister'."
It was meant as a joke, but the very next second—
"Sister."
Yi Qingju felt a shiver run down her spine, her body jolting as if her waist had been jabbed. Her eyes widened in shock.
"You just—"
She pushed Qi Weiran away, reaching for her phone on the nightstand and turning on the voice recorder app. With shining eyes, she returned to the blanket and said enthusiastically, "Say it again."
He obliged, "Sister."
Yi Qingju laughed so hard she exposed her teeth.
[Hahahahaha if Qi Weiran ever wrongs me in the future, I'll play this on a loop at his funeral so he has no dignity even in death hahahahaha]
How cruel.
But Yi Qingju herself may not have realized it.
In her imagination of Qi Weiran's 'death,' he was lying in the coffin, clearly having passed away from old age a century later.
Of course, panning the scene over reveals an elderly Yi Qingju weeping and laughing from her wheelchair, flanked by two young hunks.
"Come on, Sister will tell you a story, but you can't hug Sister. Only good boys get to hear stories."
She flopped onto the pillow, patting the space beside her.
The puppy Qi Weiran (drunk version) obediently lay down, turning to face her with eager amber eyes.
Yi Qingju cleared her throat and began, "This is a story of youthful pain and suffering."
"In high school, they were the top students in their class, constantly vying for first place."
"Everyone saw them studying hard, eating spicy hot pot together at lunch while reviewing lessons."
"And he would always silently put the fish balls, sausages, and noodles into her bowl. When caught, he'd say he didn't like them, his eyes full of tender affection."
"Two years passed, the college entrance exam was near, and she got esophageal cancer while he scored the top mark in the city and earned a scholarship."
Qi Weiran: "...How painful."
"Right?" Yi Qingju's voice choked up.
Then she patted his head, "The mood is set, so if we don't sleep now, it'd be rude."
Seeing him still staring unblinkingly at her, Yi Qingju yawned, "Mmm...let me tell you one last one, then you have to sleep obediently, okay?"
Qi Weiran nodded.
"Once upon a time, there was a butterfly flying happily."
"But it accidentally fell into a pit of mud and struggled hard to climb out."
"It climbed and climbed, but not only did it fail to get out, it ended up getting even more mud on its wings. After a while, it fell asleep."
At this point, Yi Qingju sleepily asked, "Do you know the name of this story?"
Qi Weiran shook his head.
"The story is called—"
"The Muddy Butterfly Slept."
As the last word fell, Yi Qingju closed her eyes, soon snoring softly and even hugging Qi Weiran's arm, mumbling about pork knuckles in her sleep.
Qi Weiran: "......"
Feeling the soft sensation on his arm, he was inflamed with desire for Yi Qingju.
The poor Qi was not only suffering from a hangover headache but also this torment.
The next day when Yi Qingju woke up, Qi Weiran was gone.
She sat up groggily for a while before exclaiming "Oh shoot!" as she recalled last night's events.
Listening to the recording of "Sister," Yi Qingju's dazed mind instantly cleared, and she hugged the blanket, grinning widely for quite some time.
It wasn't until the maids knocked and entered that she managed to suppress her smile, though the corners of her mouth remained upturned all morning.
"Hello, please, where is Qi Weiran?" Yi Qingju used a translation app to ask the maids.
One replied through the app, "The prince has already had breakfast. He asked that you go straight to the airport after eating."
Yi Qingju nodded.
Taking a small piece of bread with some jam, she glanced at the empty seat in front of her.
In the spacious room filled with Zonian people who didn't speak her language, she was the only one.
After finishing her communication through the translation app, for some reason, Yi Qingju resolved to properly study foreign languages when she returned.
Wasn't improving oneself one of the reasons for making money, besides enjoyment?
...
A few flight attendants in uniform were secretly admiring the side profile of the man sitting by the window.
The morning sunlight streaming through the glass illuminated his exquisite features - long, straight eyelashes like tiny fans casting shadows beneath his eyes, sensual thin lips that seemed perfect for kissing.
He sat with his long legs crossed, an elegant and noble air surrounding him.
But the object of their attention was thinking—
Oh no no no no no no no no no no it's over it's all over.
Despite his outwardly calm and composed demeanor, Qi Weiran's mind was buzzing, the hangover headache combined with the memories from last night leaving him completely drained.
Was it too late to buy a planet and move there?
He took out his phone, but before he could unlock it, a familiar voice came from behind: "Sir, where's the dumpling? Are we leaving so soon?"
'Thud.'
Qi Weiran's phone dropped to the floor.
Yi Qingju froze for a moment.
[Did he just drop his phone? He doesn't seem to remember what happened last night.]
[Oh no, may the Jade Emperor Buddha bless that Qi Weiran absolutely does not remember, or he'll surely kill me to keep me quiet!]
Qi Weiran: I just want to strangle myself.
Waving off the flight attendants coming to help, Qi Weiran bent down to pick up his phone himself.
The moment his fingers touched it, the screen suddenly lit up on its own.
Then a time reminder popped up.
'10 days until Xiao Zhi's death anniversary'
