Mistaken ‘O’ is a Crazy Gorgeous Boss - Chapter 69

Deliberately constructed illusions and lies are often ultimately shattered by genuine accidents.

In the past, if her neck had been gently kissed from behind, Qu Zhen would likely have been unable to control the overflow of her pheromones. But now, awakened from her beautiful dream, Qu Zhen’s body was as stiff as a wooden plank. She wanted to escape, yet there was nowhere to hide. She could only remain frozen, letting Shen Zhikou hold her.

Unstoppable tears fell in streams. Qu Zhen was a good child who never lied, she couldn’t be like Shen Zhikou, who concealed a ticking time bomb day after day, one misstep away from obliterating their relationship.

For the first time, she didn’t take the initiative to hold hands, embrace, or return the kiss. Instead, after a moment, her voice trembling, she asked:

“Why… did you lie to me?”

Her first vague romance had been utterly disastrous, often subjected to criticism and verbal attacks from forum classmates. In the end, she only discovered she had been cheated on when she learned she was merely a bet in a wager, something that could be discarded and thrown away at any moment. So, after that chance encounter with Shen Zhikou, and after they had connected heart-to-heart, she felt especially grateful every day for fate’s favor. She wanted to give Shen Zhikou the very best of everything.

But fate’s tricks are always unpredictable.

Shen Zhikou was not a gift bestowed upon her by fate but rather another impending abandonment. Her frugality, her envisioned future for the two of them, her desire to give Shen Zhikou the very best, perhaps in the eyes of Shen Zhikou, who stood at the pinnacle of the pyramid, these were nothing but laughable jokes.

The tremor and sob in her voice were unmistakable as she stubbornly repeated, “Why did you lie to me?”

The light in the entryway seemed to dim slightly. The calm before the storm had completely faded. The woman who had remained silent now had a darkening gaze. She could no longer brush it off as lightly as before or cover it up with another lie.

On that rainy night of her secondary differentiation, when she had chosen to act, they had stepped onto a fog-shrouded tightrope over a cliff, standing at two separate ends. Every step was as precarious as walking on thin ice, with the constant risk of falling and shattering into pieces.

Although she had meticulously avoided most of the risks, there would always be unexpected events that would clear away the fog, revealing the abyss beneath the cliff.

Did she regret it?

No, she never regretted it.

Not a single step she had taken toward Qu Zhen had she ever regretted.

Withdrawing her arms from around the alpha’s waist, she pulled a tissue from the box on the entryway cabinet and stood firmly in front of the alpha. Even though she had prepared herself, seeing Qu Zhen in tears still made her heart ache.

“Yes,” she admitted frankly. “I lied to you.”

Her possessiveness was pathological. She wanted every tear of her beloved to be because of her. Rather than wiping them away with a tissue, she longed to lean in and kiss them away.

“There are many reasons. I know you don’t want to hear them, but I still want to tell you the most important one.”

Long before this, she had wanted to voice these words: “I like you.”

“I deliberately schemed to get close to you, devised ways to make you let your guard down, all because I wanted you to like me too,” she confessed without reservation. “I want you to like only me, to see only me, and aside from your mothers, to have your emotions stirred only by me.”

Qu Zhen’s thoughts were in disarray. There were too many lies involved, and she didn’t immediately believe Shen Zhikou’s words.

“So, you lied to me?”

“Right.”

“But liking someone isn’t like this.” Qu Zhen’s eyes were red-rimmed. “You could have been honest with me, we had plenty of opportunities for openness. You know very well I dislike lies and deception. I asked you three times if you would ever deceive me, and each time you said no. Yet from the very beginning until now, you’ve been hiding the truth. Your identity was fake, and even the debt collectors showing up was just an act.”

All the previous coincidences suddenly connected, and many truths surfaced.

From the kind older sister and online friend Z during university, to the Shen Zhikou she had met this past year, they were all roles played by the same person. She was just an ordinary person who had to carefully consider every decision, while Shen Yunxi could manipulate situations effortlessly, wielding immense power in Haicheng. There must have been many more secrets and traces from those past days that she had no way of knowing or detecting.

“Z was your alternate identity, and the kind older sister was you too. Were my worries and anxieties just bargaining chips to amuse you?”

Shen Zhikou suppressed the darkness in her eyes, her expression turning cold. She had no way to explain the debt collector incident, because it truly had been a deliberate act on her part.

She knew exactly how soft-hearted Qu Zhen was, so she had intentionally fabricated that family background, revealing a soft, fragile, and pitiable side, transforming from a dangerous hunter into a vulnerable prey. She made Qu Zhen promise to come home on time every day, made her let down her guard and take the initiative to get closer. If Qu Zhen had been a little more observant, she would have noticed that He Yu from back then had used the same story. But Qu Zhen always stumbled in such matters, repeatedly deceived and manipulated.

“No,” Shen Zhikou denied.

However, Qu Zhen didn’t press further. Perhaps the answer wasn’t all that important in the face of the facts. Moreover, from the moment the truth was revealed until now, Shen Zhikou, who had concealed so much, had not apologized to her.

Not a single “I’m sorry.”

Compared to Qu Zhen’s distress and embarrassment, Shen Zhikou appeared far too composed.

“It was you who came to save me in Lingshan, wasn’t it?” Qu Zhen’s voice was hoarse. “The people at the hospital knew your identity, the archaeological research center knew, the villagers in Lingshan knew, everyone knew. Only I was kept in the dark…”

“Forget it.” Her voice cut off abruptly, and she pressed her lips together as if defeated. “Thank you.”

No matter what, she couldn’t bring herself to hurt Shen Zhikou. Even after being deceived for so long, when she discovered the truth, she didn’t angrily confront her, say harsh words, or act out in any other extreme way.

She simply retreated back into her shell, just like that night in her childhood when she was tricked into standing under a tree in a downpour, curled up in a corner and crying.

Times had changed, and the rain of the past had turned into the snow of the present. On the last day of November, Haicheng welcomed its first snowfall.

Trapped under the landslide in Lingshan, she had struggled desperately to survive, wanting to stay with Shen Zhikou a little longer, to hold her hand and grow old together with her in the snow. But now that it was snowing, she was the one letting go of Shen Zhikou’s hand.

Bypassing Shen Zhikou to leave, Qu Zhen glanced at the familiar scenes inside their cozy little home. After a brief moment of confusion, she headed straight to the secondary bedroom, packed a set of clothes, picked up her backpack, and pushed the door open to leave.

The hallway lights were off. Shen Zhikou stood to the right, and when her gaze fell on what Qu Zhen was holding, her expression shifted slightly.

“Where are you going?”

Qu Zhen did not respond. She felt that both of them needed time alone and to calm down. During this period, she would reconsider their relationship. This was Shen Zhikou’s house; it was only appropriate for her to be the one to leave.

Shen Zhikou looked at her, enunciating each word clearly: “You promised me you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“You also promised me you wouldn’t lie to me,” Qu Zhen said softly.

“I won’t allow it.”

“The prenuptial agreement doesn’t include any clauses restricting personal freedom.”

In a nearby drawer lay the handcuffs left over from her last estrus cycle. Amidst her swirling thoughts, the dark impulses she had suppressed surged forth like a tide. Yet, after only a few moments, Shen Zhikou still gave up.

Qu Zhen took a step forward, intending to walk past her, but unexpectedly found her wrist seized as Shen Zhikou pushed her against the wall, their eyes locked.

“I can explain what happened before. It wasn’t what you thought. I’ve never toyed with your feelings.”

Shen Zhikou was far from as composed as she appeared on the surface.

Throughout her years of growing up, no one had taught her how to like someone or how to love someone. All the messages she received were negative and dark. Shen Wenxi would only tell her not to hope for anything, that she didn’t deserve to have anything.

So much so that when she first realized she felt completely differently about Qu Zhen, she even went to consult a doctor.

The doctor was also surprised. After revealing the answer, she, who was about to turn twenty-four at the time, returned to her room and began exploring the meaning of “like” for the first time. Not the kind of liking one has for objects or animals, but the liking for someone dear to the heart.

Yet, none of the descriptions in any book matched her almost instinctive liking for Qu Zhen.

During the long years tormented by illness, she always told herself to endure, restrain, and forbid any hopes. But despite her usually strong self-control, she repeatedly made exceptions.

In her dreams and in reality, she wanted to know about Qu Zhen’s life, to have some connection with her, however small. So she allowed herself to indulge in those inappropriate desires and do things she shouldn’t.

Her heart felt as if it were being crushed by a sharp piece of gravel, aching until it was bruised and bloody.

Shen Zhikou gripped her hand and pressed it against the left side of her chest, where her heart was beating. “Zhenzhen, can you feel it? It’s beating for you.”

“Since we met, I’ve told you many lies. It’s true that I did wrong, but it’s also true that I like you.” She used her frostbitten hand to touch Qu Zhen’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ll change. I won’t lie to you anymore.”

“Zhenzhen, don’t go.”

The shift from forbidding to pleading took only a few short minutes.

Tears welled up in Qu Zhen’s eyes. She wanted to call Shen Zhikou “sister” as she used to, but her throat felt as if it were stuffed with cotton, making it almost impossible to make a sound. She didn’t even know how to address the person in front of her.

Just this morning, they had been intimately embracing and kissing each other, whispering sweet nothings with deep affection. Yet by nightfall, they had gone from being the closest of partners to “the most familiar strangers.” The affection they once shared now made it difficult for either of them to move forward.

She parted her lips, but before she could speak, Shen Zhikou kissed her.

Her lips were pried open, her mouth and tongue repeatedly caressed. Shen Zhikou’s kiss was no longer gentle; it was like the bouquet of irises she had once given her, a love that returned only despair.

When they finally parted, Shen Zhikou buried her face in Qu Zhen’s neck and shoulder, withdrawing the hand that had wanted to touch her, allowing the silence to spread without another word.

Only when the fabric on the side of Qu Zhen’s shoulder gradually grew damp did she realize Shen Zhikou was crying.

“Zhenzhen, please stay for me.”