Reborn as an Aloof Boss, Flirting Everywhere - Chapter 3

On her way home, Lin Qian noticed from a distance that the usually pitch-black entrance to the alley was actually lit.

She hurried over and looked up. Moths and mosquitoes swirled around the bright streetlight, a common sight during summers in the south.

Lin Qian smiled. Her steps became light, and she began to skip. The streetlight was finally fixed; she no longer had to sprint through here like she was in a hundred-meter dash.

Near the flowerbed, before Lin Qian could even make a sound, the little three-legged orange cat scurried out. It meowed as it ran toward her, as if saying, “I missed you.”

Lin Qian knelt down, stroked its head, and took a ham sausage from her bag, breaking it into pieces to feed the cat. As she fed it, she began her most talkative and animated moment of the entire day.

“I’m so happy today! It feels like so many good things happened,” she began.

“Director Liu was fired. I don’t know why, and I know it’s a bit petty to gloat, but I suddenly feel so relieved. She loved scolding people so much; whenever she yelled at me, I’d feel miserable for the whole day.”

“And the streetlight at the alley entrance is fixed!”

“Oh, right, right! That annoying male colleague didn’t bother me all day. Maybe it’s because I gave him the cold shoulder this morning? Did it actually work?”

Lin Qian cleared her throat and reenacted her morning “monologue” like a solo play: “Is there anything else? I have work to handle.”

“Pffft… Hahaha!” Lin Qian clutched the orange cat, laughing gleefully. After a while, her laughter faded into a sigh. “Just those two sentences. I practiced them in front of the mirror at home for so long before I could actually say them out loud.”

She chatted about this and that, and before she knew it, half an hour had passed.

“I have to go home now. I’ll come see you tomorrow.” Lin Qian put the cat down reluctantly, waving back at it with every few steps she took.

Once home, she dropped her bag and immediately collapsed onto the sofa, humming and wriggling comfortably. As was her daily ritual, she sighed to herself: There’s no place like home.

She opened her laptop and habitually logged into her game.

Ding.

It was an offline message from a game friend sent five hours ago. —— I’m not playing anymore. I’m leaving. Bye.

It was a very short sentence, but Lin Qian stared at it for a long time. She scrolled through her friend list; the active friends she used to explore maps, complete missions, and run dungeons with were now all grayed out. The most recent login was a month ago; the furthest was a year.

Lin Qian’s shoulders slumped, and her eyelashes lowered. Sitting before the computer, the game that was once interesting suddenly felt hollow and tasteless.

With a heavy sigh, Lin Qian was about to close the game when a “Ding” announced a new friend request. She clicked on it. It was someone with the single-character ID “Qing.” Level 100. The “simple yet elegant” profile page screamed one thing: this was a high-level pro.

Lin Qian accepted the request.

Qing: Good evening. Guiyin (Lin Qian): Good evening.

A long time passed without another message from Qing. Lin Qian found it strange—why would such a pro add a “little newbie” like her? But the confusion didn’t last long, as her thoughts drifted back to her departed friends, and her mood darkened again.

On the other side of the screen, Su Qingmo’s display was stuck on the private chat box. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and then deleting. Typing again, then deleting again…

For the first time in her life, she didn’t know how to start a conversation. Su Qingmo opened a search bar and typed: How to chat with someone you like, how to chat without scaring the other person…

She searched for a long time but found nothing useful. She looked at the game interface with a hint of worry, only to see the other person’s character constantly switching outfits. Suddenly, inspiration struck. A smile curved her lips; she knew how to talk to her now.

Lin Qian had no idea someone was agonizing over how to talk to her. Feeling bored, she browsed the fashion mall, looking at various outfits. Finally, she stared at a costume called “Ink Rain’s Return” for a long time. She tried it on, then took screenshots.

This outfit hit all her aesthetic preferences. Every time she logged on, she would come to the mall to try it on. She had considered buying it, but logic always won over impulse. It was too expensive—one of the costliest outfits in the game. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford it, but it would cost her an entire month’s salary. After working so hard for her meager pay, she couldn’t bring herself to be so extravagant. So, no matter how much she liked it, she never bought it.

After trying it on for a bit, she exited the mall dejectedly, making a silent vow: Once I have money, I will definitely get it!

Just as she was about to log off, the chat box flashed again.

Qing: I have a two-person quest here. Could I bother you to do it with me?

Lin Qian was puzzled. A two-person quest? Is it a new event from today?

Guiyin: Sure, send the invite.

An invite popped up, and Lin Qian clicked “Accept.”

[Task 1: Please hug your quest partner.]

Lin Qian hesitated for a moment before clicking “Confirm.” The two characters moved together into an embrace. Lin Qian’s eyes widened. Since when did this game have interactive hugging?

[Task 2: Please kiss your quest partner.]

Lin Qian blinked. What kind of weird tasks are these?

She clicked “Confirm” again. The two female characters leaned in, and as their lips met, pink heart effects appeared on the screen. Lin Qian’s head was full of question marks. What the heck? Is the game developer in love or something?

Qing: Alright, the task is complete. Thank you. Guiyin: No problem…

After the quest ended, the system sent a [Happy Marriage Gift Pack].

Lin Qian twitched her lips. She was now 100% certain the developer was in love; otherwise, they wouldn’t have updated the game with such strange things. She casually opened the gift pack.

Ding!

A sudden animation flashed across the screen. Lin Qian blinked, frozen in place. —— Congratulations! You have obtained “Ink Rain’s Return.”

Lin Qian stared blankly at the screen. She rubbed her eyes and tilted her head, reading the notification repeatedly. Then, she practically shot out of her seat.

“Whoa!” “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” “Holy crap!!!”

At the same time, on the other end.

Su Qingmo sat in her car, her eyes fixed on the laptop screen. After “Guiyin” put on the “Ink Rain’s Return” outfit, she started hopping around frantically like a hyperactive little rabbit.

Su Qingmo smiled. She could feel the girl’s excitement through the screen. It seemed she really did love that outfit. As long as she was happy, it was enough.

The light from the screen reflected on her cool, elegant face as her thoughts drifted back to a distant memory from her past life.

“What are you doing?” Su Qingmo had hugged her from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder.

Lin Qian had affectionately rubbed her cheek against Su Qingmo’s. “Playing a game. I used to love this game; I played it every day after work.”

“Let me show you something,” Lin Qian had opened the mall. “What do you think of this outfit?”

It was a traditional-style costume, the patterns on the fabric resembling a delicate landscape painting.

“It’s beautiful,” Su Qingmo had said.

Lin Qian had smiled. “Right? I think so too. I used to love it so much I’d dream about owning it.”

“Then buy it now?”

Lin Qian had looked at the outfit—she still loved it—but she shook her head. “Some things… once you pass that age and that period of your life, even if you eventually have the means to own them, it doesn’t bring much joy anymore. After all, I don’t even play this game now.” Lin Qian had shrugged and smiled.

Su Qingmo had pursed her lips, looking at her with sorrowful eyes. She felt regret for Lin Qian’s regrets. If she could, she didn’t want Lin Qian to have any such regrets.

And now, she truly could help her make up for them.

Although Su Qingmo didn’t know why, she had indeed returned to seven years ago—to a point in time before she even knew Lin Qian.

“President Su…” The voice of her secretary, Li Linlin, pulled Su Qingmo back to reality. “I don’t mean to overstep, but if you want to give her something, shouldn’t you at least let her know it’s from you? By making it a quest reward, she’ll think she just got lucky with a draw. She won’t know it’s you. Doesn’t that make it meaningless?”

Su Qingmo looked out the car window toward the fifth floor, her gaze softening. “If she knows who gave it to her, it becomes a burden. I just want her to be happy. I want to heal her regrets without making her feel indebted.”

Li Linlin grumbled internally. She could tell that with President Su’s overly cautious approach, it would take forever to actually “win her over” or rather, to even properly introduce herself.

Click.

The door to the apartment building opened. A small figure ran out quickly, hair draped over her shoulders, wearing thin pajamas and slippers.

Su Qingmo recognized her instantly. Her gaze became glued to the girl, unable to look away.

Lin Qian didn’t notice the person in the car. She ran straight to the flowerbed, picked up the orange cat, and started spinning in circles with joy. She sat by the flowerbed, a wide grin on her face, whispering something to the cat likely sharing her good news.

Su Qingmo watched her with a smile. But as she watched, a pang of heartache surfaced in her eyes.

The girl’s joy was so great, yet she had no one to share it with. She was so happy, but she could only tell a cat.

A stinging sensation rose in Su Qingmo’s nose. At this moment, she was incredibly grateful to be back seven years ago back to the time when Lin Qian needed her most.

As if sensing something, Lin Qian suddenly looked up, her gaze landing on the black sedan. Su Qingmo didn’t look away. She closed her laptop and looked back.

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