Cross the Boundary GL - Chapter 33

Two days later, under clear sunshine, guests gathered endlessly in Galaxy Cemetery.
The once-renowned lawyer Hu Muwan was laid to rest here, and even the media showed up to create one last grand spectacle for this brilliant elder.

Qin Song did not attend.
Yang Xin had secured a big contract, and her team was determined to win it. Qin Song had to stay at the company to manage the schedule.

At Yang Xin’s office, the routine morning meeting went on as usual.
The woman standing at the front had her pink-purple hair neatly tied up, her pure black suit without a single crease.

She was always meticulous like this.
Even the faint glimpse of tattoos and dyed hair seemed to turn cold and severe in this setting.

In work, Qin Song was even more strict and exacting. She tolerated no mistakes from her subordinates. During meetings, she never carried her phone. Her instructions were concise, efficient—like a high-speed machine in perfect operation.

So, when Ye Qiying knocked on the door and interrupted, Qin Song frowned and took off her glasses—she only wore them to look at the big screen, an aftereffect from years ago.

That year, when Zheng Chengfeng failed in business, he came home to vent his anger on her. No one knew how much force he used, but the medical records coldly listed “retinal detachment” among other injuries. Fortunately, what remained now was only diminished eyesight.

Qin Song fingered the cord of her glasses, her expression indifferent as she looked toward the door.
Everyone present understood the look in her eyes: You’d better have a good reason for interrupting this meeting.

Ye Qiying forced a dry smile.
“Qin-jie, your phone has been ringing nonstop. It’s the same person over and over. I thought it might be urgent.”

“Who.” Qin Song stepped forward and put her glasses back on. The golden rim caught a stray lock of hair at her temple—messy, but striking.

Even though no one in the room liked Qin Song, they couldn’t deny her beauty—like a rare frost flower blooming at the edge of a cliff.

“Someone named Li Chu,” Ye Qiying said, glancing at the screen before handing over the phone. “She’s called seven or eight times already.”

Qin Song took the phone with calm fingers.
“Ten-minute break,” she said coolly, then walked out in high heels.

Everyone was stunned. In all her years at Yang Xin, Qin Song had never once paused a meeting midway, whether big or small.

Li Chu must be someone very important.

So they whispered among themselves.

Meanwhile, Qin Song stepped into the pantry and finally answered Li Chu’s tenth call.
On the other end, there was heavy wind noise. After a while, a faint voice came through:

“Qin Song? Are you listening?”

Qin Song poured herself coffee.
“Mm.”

“Are you busy?” Li Chu asked again.

“What is it.”

“I saw your… Zheng Chengfeng,” Li Chu said. She clearly didn’t think a man like him deserved the title of father, and changed her wording midway.

Qin Song quietly waited.

“He was at a flower shop. Bought red roses. Looks like he’s giving them to someone. Um… is it your mother’s birthday today?”

Qian Fang’s birthday…?
Qin Song thought for a moment, sipped her coffee, and replied: “Not today.”

Li Chu sucked in a sharp breath.
“Ah? Then he’s…?”

“Cheating,” Qin Song cut her off smoothly.
“Which flower shop?”

“The one just outside the cemetery gate,” Li Chu said. “I just came back from Galaxy Cemetery. He’s about to leave now.”

“Good.” Qin Song’s voice was flat, commanding. “Follow him. Send me the location. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Ah? But I—I don’t know how!” Li Chu stammered.

“Stay hidden.” Qin Song hung up crisply.

When she returned to the conference room, all noise died at once.
In front of everyone’s shocked gazes, she walked to the podium, picked up the folder, and headed out.

At the door, she waved a hand.
“Dismissed.”

Her high heels clicked farther and farther away, leaving only silence and disbelief behind.

Ten minutes later, Li Chu sent a location pin via WeChat: near Cheng’an Apartments, at a five-star hotel.
She also sent a short voice message.

Sitting in a taxi, Qin Song stared at the little audio bubble, her finger hovering for a long time before finally pressing transcribe to text.

She never liked listening to voice messages, and she never replied to them. Over time, colleagues and partners learned to only use text with her.

“Four Seasons Hotel, fifth floor. You can’t get up without a key card. Hurry!”

Li Chu must have been covering her mouth, whispering cautiously—the words were tiny, nervous.

An image flashed in Qin Song’s mind:
a little rabbit hiding in a corner, clutching a phone, too scared to speak up. Ridiculous, yet oddly vivid.

So when she walked into the Four Seasons, her eyes instinctively searched for that “rabbit.”

But Li Chu was obediently sitting on a lobby sofa instead.
She waved at once: “Over here!”

Fresh from the funeral, Li Chu was dressed plainly—pure black dress down to her ankles, the only decoration a camellia pinned at her chest.

She wouldn’t dare dress up too brightly so soon after Dean Hu’s death. Likely she’d stay understated for days.

But somehow, she looked like a child wearing clothes from an adult’s wardrobe—out of place, and yet… strikingly alluring.

Hopeless, Qin Song thought. My illness must be incurable. Even in mourning attire, she still tempts me.

“How do we get upstairs?” Li Chu asked innocently, wide-eyed, completely unaware of the thoughts hidden under Qin Song’s cool exterior.

With no pocket to store her glasses, Qin Song simply wore them and instructed:
“Book a room on the fifth floor.”

Li Chu nearly jumped.
“Ah?! It’s over three thousand a night!”

Qin Song turned her face slightly toward the front desk.

The golden chains dangling from her glasses glinted against her cheek. Wearing them, she exuded an intellectual elegance—mature, noble, the aura of an heiress from an elite family.

Under the chandelier’s glow, standing there in her tailored suit, she looked almost unreal.

Li Chu couldn’t tear her eyes away.

In the end, Qin Song really did open a room.
The clerk politely smiled at Li Chu:
“We’ll also need your ID, miss.”

Li Chu’s ID photo was horrendous.

She had accidentally glimpsed Qin Song’s earlier—beautiful even in stiff official lighting.

“I—I’m not staying. Can’t I skip it?” Li Chu tried to wriggle out.

The clerk shook his head politely.
“Sorry, ma’am. For entry we must register you too. It’s policy.”

Li Chu looked at Qin Song helplessly, silently begging for instruction.

Qin Song caught the glance and curled her lips faintly—the kind of smile so subtle it was almost invisible.

Then she tilted her chin toward the counter, the movement light but unmistakable: Do it.

So Li Chu reluctantly handed over her ID, praying Qin Song wouldn’t notice the awful picture. She’d been young then, still undeveloped, and sunburned dark after a seaside trip with Dean Hu.

Some things are pure social death. Especially in front of someone you… care about. And that person just happens to be flawless, even in her own ID photo.

Luckily, Qin Song showed no interest, eyes down on her phone, handling work matters.

Li Chu finally relaxed, shoulders dropping in relief.

The hotel’s fifth floor had mirrored pairs of rooms. Zheng Chengfeng was in 503; their room was 506.

It was Li Chu’s first time in such a grand hotel—like a palace.
She didn’t dare touch anything, trailing behind Qin Song nervously.
When Qin Song headed toward the bathroom, she followed without thinking.

Then she bumped right into Qin Song when the woman suddenly stopped, nearly stepping on her heel.

Qin Song leaned lazily against the sliding door, one hand propped, golden chains from her glasses glinting as they dangled.
“What are you trying to do?”

Li Chu hadn’t thought of anything at all—but the intensity of Qin Song’s gaze was molten, her very breath steeped in heat.

Li Chu flushed, panicking, and stumbled back a step.
“I—I wasn’t trying to do anything.”

A guilty denial if there ever was one.

Qin Song lifted her slender fingers, slowly removing her glasses.
Her eyes behind them were sharp and luminous—stripped of their usual dead stillness.

Li Chu caught sight of herself in the full-length mirror behind her.
Her own face was scarlet, like a flower in bloom.

“Never stayed in a hotel this nice before?” Qin Song raised a brow, the bridge of her nose catching the ceiling light in perfect profile.

Li Chu, dazed, muttered honestly:
“No.”

After all, who among ordinary people would spend three thousand a night?
This was luxury for the rich—their playground of wine and gold, built to dazzle.

Qin Song’s gaze burned straight through her, unrelenting.
Li Chu squirmed.
“Why are you looking at me like that…”

She had the dreadful feeling Qin Song might actually do something.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” Qin Song said lightly.

This time, Li Chu was certain—she really was about to do something.

Qin Song slipped off her blazer, then began removing her rings.

One by one.
Three rings.
Slow, deliberate.

With each one, Li Chu’s heart climbed higher into her throat.

By the end, she was trembling.

And then Qin Song crooked a finger.
“Come here.”

Li Chu blinked dumbly.
“Come… where?”

Qin Song said nothing.
Her collarbone rose with her breath, revealing the glint of metal at her skin.

Images flashed in Li Chu’s mind, one after another.

Her survival instinct kicked in.
“Weren’t we here to investigate Zheng Chengfeng…?”

“Then go listen.” Qin Song’s eyes darkened, thick with disdain.

Li Chu frantically waved her hands.
“No, no, I don’t want to!”

Listening to Zheng Chengfeng was the last thing she wanted.
At least here, with this woman, she wouldn’t suddenly be slapped for no reason… right?

But then again—Qin Song had slapped Zheng Chengfeng before. She was capable of anything when her illness took hold.

Li Chu could only pray she wasn’t having an episode now.

But Qin Song wasn’t sick this time.
She simply wanted.
From the moment she’d seen Li Chu in the lobby, she had wanted her.

The investigation of the room next door was just a convenient pretext.

She led Li Chu into the bathroom.
The younger girl stood stiffly under the shower, clothes still clinging on, delicate lace underwear peeking through.

After a brief look, Qin Song stepped in too, closing the glass door behind them, shrinking the space.

The five-star hotel was spotless, dry and pristine. Only when the shower turned on did steam begin to fill the little world.

Qin Song’s shirt soaked quickly, clinging to her skin, turning transparent.

Her hair was tied up in advance, neat and ready.
Her hand reached around Li Chu’s back.

With a practiced flick, the clasp gave way.
The straps slipped from her shoulders.

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