Love Rival Turned Lover - Chapter 5

Half an hour later.

“Ling Qiao’er, are you okay?”

With a loud bang, the hotel room door was kicked open from the outside. A sharply dressed young man, his features resembling Ling Qiao’er’s by six or seven parts, strode in with a face tight with worry.

“Who was bold enough to drug you? Tired of living, are they?”

He had barely stepped through the door when he launched into a furious tirade, his voice cracking like gunfire. Ling Qiao’er’s temples throbbed from the noise. She snapped coldly, “Shut up!”

Her brother had everything going for him—looks, height, presence—except he terrified himself with his own dramatics. The moment he opened his mouth, any trace of elegance went straight out the window.

“You—you’re yelling at me, your brother?” The young man froze, eyebrows scrunched hard. Looking at Ling Qiao’er lying on the bed, his expression darkened. “I worried about you all night! The instant I saw your message, I rushed over.

And this is how you repay me?”

“How else?” she said flatly.

Ling Qiao’er pushed herself upright. As the blanket slid down, it exposed the scattered bruises and purple marks on her skin—obvious even beneath clothes.

“Does Big Brother know?”

Ling Qiao’er had two older brothers. The eldest, Ling Aoleng, cold and expressionless, was terrifyingly strict. The second, Ling Junqing, was gloomy, volatile, and prone to explosive outbursts. Because they grew up under Ling Aoleng’s militaristic discipline, both siblings were instinctively afraid of him.

“How would I dare tell him?” Ling Junqing blurted—and then he froze.

Seeing the marks on her body, his pupils shrank sharply. He hurriedly took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her.

“God—what happened to you?”

He had thought she was messing with him.

“We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

Fastening the buttons for her, Ling Junqing scooped her into his arms, voice dropping to a chilling cold.

“Who did this?”

Someone was begging to die.

Caught off guard by the sudden princess-carry, Ling Qiao’er narrowed her eyes, hiding the frost beneath. “Just a bunch of small-time thugs.”

Ling Junqing staggered mid-step and nearly fell.

“A—a bunch? Heavens. Big Brother is going to kill me.”

His voice trembled.

“What nonsense are you imagining now?” Ling Qiao’er rolled her eyes. She had wanted to teach those punks a lesson, but she would never sacrifice her own innocence for that. Being surrounded and manhandled by a group? Even she couldn’t afford that kind of humiliation.

“I was saved,” she added. “They just saw everything.”

Ling Junqing’s complexion visibly eased. He carried her out of the hotel toward the car, muttering darkly as he drove,
“Leave this to your brother. I’ll make sure those bastards.”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but Ling Qiao’er knew exactly what her brutal yet soft-hearted second brother was thinking.

Those thugs were done for.

Her lips curled imperceptibly upward. Glancing at the July Motel shrinking in the distance, she burrowed deeper into the suit jacket and prepared to catch up on sleep. She hadn’t slept a wink last night, and when Qian Xun woke up, she woke as well. She had held on until now.

She was utterly exhausted.

“This girl.”

Ling Junqing watched her through the rearview mirror—mouth slightly parted, asleep within minutes. He shook his head with a sigh, then turned the car toward his downtown bachelor apartment.

He absolutely could not take her home like this.

If the servants saw her and word reached Big Brother, he’d be skinned alive.

As for the hospital.

Did this girl really think he couldn’t see she was faking it?

He didn’t know how she got all those bruises, but if she had truly been assaulted, she would never be this calm—not with her temper.

Most importantly: she was still completely unviolated.

So, this whole situation—those bruises and melodramatic details—was something she had deliberately staged just to trick him.

Just to get him to deal with those thugs for her.

Ling Junqing’s eyes narrowed, an eerie smile tugging at his lips.

How could he not fulfill his little sister’s wish?

A few worthless gutter rats—he’d swat them like flies.

Even if she demanded the stars and moon, he’d find a way to pluck them down for her.

Since their parents were always away for work, Ling Qiao’er had practically been raised by her two older brothers.

Two extreme sister-obsessed brothers, several years older, who had played the roles of both father and mother.

They had spoiled her into a temperamental princess—yet cherished her like a treasure.

Slowing the car a little, Ling Junqing glanced in the mirror again.

Her head bobbed like a sleepy little chick, leaning gradually to the side.

He couldn’t help smirking silently.

He really wanted to take a picture—she looked too cute.

As she got older, moments like this were becoming rare.

“Tsk. What kind of dream are you having to smile like that?”

Seeing the curve at the corner of Ling Qiao’er’s lips grow wider—so wide her neat white teeth were showing—Ling Junqing finally couldn’t resist pulling the car over. He secretly snapped a photo and saved it. After thinking for a moment, he forwarded the picture to his older brother, who was currently abroad inspecting one of their company branches, adding a single line:

“Bro, it’s been ages since this little girl looked this happy.”

The reply came back almost instantly. When Ling Junqing opened it, he found—just as expected—a single, simple: “Mm.”

But he knew. For his eternally stoic, cold-faced older brother to even reply that much, his expression at this moment must be softened beyond recognition.

“Could it be she dreamt about that Gongliang boy again?”

Ling Junqing’s tone was sour. The little “sister-daughter” he’d raised since childhood now had someone else in her heart. His mood felt exactly like watching his tender, beautiful cabbage get devoured by a pig—utterly, painfully suffocating.

On the other side, there was no reply for a long while. He was probably sulking too.

Looking at the girl with her peach-blossom-bright face, Ling Junqing was even more convinced of his guess.

“No conscience at all. Think about who fed you and raised you all these years. And what about you? Ever since you met that Gongliang boy, your whole heart flew straight to him. You’ve completely forgotten me and your big brother. Just look at how long it’s been since you last came home. Is that student dorm really that great?”

Grumbling under his breath, Ling Junqing had no idea—his precious little sister was indeed dreaming a beautiful dream, but the person in it was not the one he thought.

It wasn’t Gongliang Bingyi.

It was the very love rival she had been hating up until recently.

“Qian Xun.”

Her lips moved ever so slightly as she called Qian Xun’s name without a sound. Ling Qiao’er’s face grew redder by the second, her entire body trembling faintly with excitement.

Everything happening in her dream was leaking into reality. She licked her dry lips, her fingers repeatedly clenching and releasing her jacket—grip, release, grip, release—until her face was so flushed it looked ready to drip blood.

Ling Qiao’er was dreaming of what happened the night before.

Only in the dream, she was far bolder—far more reckless and erotic.

And Qian Xun’s responses were even more seductive, more boneless, more intoxicatingly sweet.

She dreamt of Qian Xun arching her supple waist in desire, those misty, lust-drenched eyes brimming with temptation—every glance filled with teasing, with invitation.

The scene flipped. She was on top, Qian Xun beneath her. Their waistlines pressed tightly together, and the place where they rubbed against each other sent waves of relentless pleasure through them both.

In the dream, she used her lips, her hands, her tongue—tasting and touching every inch of Qian Xun’s body. That sweetness, that softness, drove her insane. She did everything she hadn’t dared to do the night before.

Dream-Qian Xun’s breathless moans and desperate gasps thrilled her to no end. She only wanted more—wanted to see more. For that, even throwing away her pride was nothing. She didn’t care if she looked like a heat-stricken beast crawling between Qian Xun’s legs.

In the dream, she was no longer the proud, headstrong, sharp-tongued eldest daughter of the Ling family.

She was simply a woman hopelessly, obsessively in love with Qian Xun—so much so it bordered on madness.

Everything unfolding in the dream terrified Ling Qiao’er, yet mixed within that fear was a forbidden thrill—a shiver of taboo delight.

It was deadly. Like poison.

And the “poison” named Qian Xun was at this moment feeling utterly speechless.

Because she had just finished receiving this world’s storyline and mission.

So this world—was actually from a school romance novel.

How unexpectedly amusing.

She remembered what the system had told her: her mission was to travel through different worlds, conquer the male lead, and break apart the official couple. And in this world, the previous owner of this body had tangled history with the so-called male lead, Gongliang Bingyi.

After all—original host Ye Qian Xun had been Gongliang Bingyi’s first love.

Though in the male lead’s eyes, she had dumped him for money.

He called it the dark stain of his life.

Later on, she existed only to highlight how deeply the female lead loved the male lead—essentially a pitiful stepping stone.