You Should’ve Said Earlier that you’re Such a Little Flirt! - Chapter 4

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that for a split second, Xu Qingqiong actually chickened out. It was only after she sat down obediently that she realized: Wait, why the hell am I listening to this woman?

Refusing to show weakness, she squared her shoulders and tilted her head up, forcing a defensive stance. “What do you mean by that?”

Lin Konglu nodded slightly, her slender, pale finger tapping once on the table. “Tell me your other conditions.”

It was a tacit acceptance of her demands.

Xu Qingqiong never expected her to agree. Suddenly, she found herself “placed on the fire,” unable to back down. To hide her inner panic and prevent herself from fiddling with her sleeves, she propped her hands on the table with feigned bravado, acting tougher than she felt.

“I’m telling you clearly, I have a purpose for marrying you. I can’t tell you the reason yet.”

“But it’s not for your property. We can sign a prenuptial agreement.”

“After marriage, you can’t interfere with any of my activities or choices.”

She paused, then added: “Ideally, we’ll have a fake marriage. A contract marriage—you understand, right?”

…

Her words were unreasonable and overbearing, yet her eyes avoided Lin Konglu’s gaze. Her original intent was to provoke Lin Konglu into ending this blind date early.

To her surprise, a few minutes later, Lin Konglu actually agreed to her terms.

The woman folded her hands and looked up at her. Behind her gold-rimmed glasses, a faint glint passed over her elegant, cold features.

“Fine,” Lin Konglu said, her voice airy as she looked into her eyes. “But I don’t agree to your last request.”

“Marriage is fine. A fake marriage is not.”

Before Xu Qingqiong could react, Lin Konglu continued: “Additionally, I have some requirements of my own.”

As if she had been prepared all along, she pushed a document toward Xu Qingqiong. “Have a look.”

She spoke with a forceful efficiency that carried a hint of pressure.

Xu Qingqiong couldn’t keep up with her pace at all. Her mind was a mess, so she naturally did whatever Lin Konglu said. She dazedly flipped open the folder, only to see four bold, black characters at the top: PRENUPTIAL AGREEMENT.

As she flipped through the pages, Xu Qingqiong found herself speechless.

The agreement was incredibly detailed, divided into two main categories: property matters and marital obligations.

• Cohabitation: Required starting one month before the wedding. After marriage, unless special circumstances arise, the parties cannot live apart for more than three days.
• Reputation: Both parties have an obligation to protect each other’s reputation and interests.
• Divorce: Barring accidental circumstances, neither party may initiate a divorce.

And so on.

But what shocked her most was that almost every clause in the agreement favored her.

There was no need for a pre-marital property notarization, meaning she would have access to all of Lin Konglu’s assets after marriage. There was even a transfer of equity for some of the subsidiary companies under the Ses Group.

Compared to this, her own “conditions” looked like child’s play.

Xu Qingqiong stared at the printed black ink, her expression shifting rapidly, stunned into silence by this sudden “windfall.”

Lin Konglu didn’t rush her. She took a sip of tea and quietly observed her.

Since she was a child, Xu Qingqiong had a bright, spirited look—distinct features, eyes that seemed to hold a smile, and sharp little tiger fangs. In middle school, she had pierced her cartilage and dyed her hair pink; surrounded by “good students,” she looked exactly like the kind of “bad girl” who would skip class to fight.

She possessed a unique aura—bold and radiant. Her magnetism was immense. At least, that’s how it was back then; Lin Konglu had been like a lost moth, crashing straight into her “trap.”

She hadn’t expected that after all these years, though the childishness had faded, almost nothing else had changed.

Except for the fact that Xu Qingqiong didn’t recognize her at all.

Lin Konglu lowered her eyes with a hint of disappointment, hiding her emotions. She added calmly, “I have no hidden debts, no criminal record, and my companies are operating normally.”

The implication was clear: there were no traps in this agreement. She didn’t need to worry about any hidden “costs” to this marriage.

The terms were so generous that Xu Qingqiong found it even harder to understand. Why marry me, then? Is she just doing charity because she has too much money?

Xu Qingqiong looked up in a daze. Her confusion must have been written all over her face.

“Apologies.” Lin Konglu kept her back elegantly straight, her eyelids lifting slightly to catch her gaze. Her voice was flat. “I also have reasons I cannot disclose.”

Though she said “apologies,” Xu Qingqiong didn’t feel a shred of apology from her. From her expression to her tone, Lin Konglu felt like a snow-capped mountain—cold and inviolable.

She lacked warmth; she was a cold-blooded ruler. That was the first impression.

As Xu Qingqiong’s thoughts spiraled into a mess, Lin Konglu checked her watch and cut through the silence. “My time is tight.”

After a moment’s thought, she took a business card from her bag and pushed it across the table. “Miss Xu, I need an answer within three days at most. The offer expires after that.”

Expires after that.

Her voice was mellow yet cool, possessing a certain rhythm that bored into Xu Qingqiong’s ears.

Xu Qingqiong finally snapped back to reality and found her rhythm. She slid the embossed gold card from under Lin Konglu’s fingertip and glanced at it. “No need. I agree.”

As if to prove her point, she grabbed a pen and swiftly signed her name on the prenup.

Just as Lin Konglu reached out to take the document, Xu Qingqiong suddenly interrupted: “Wait a minute.”

“Hm?”

Xu Qingqiong looked at her defiantly. She took the stiff business card between her fingers, bent it slightly, and tossed it into the trash can as a show of force.

“We’re getting married, Miss Lin. It’s hardly appropriate to give me a work contact, don’t you think?”

“Where’s your private contact info?”

“Does Miss Lin have no sincerity at all?”

Across the square table, one hand pressed down on the corner of the document. Their eyes met, locked in a quiet standoff.

The atmosphere grew heavy for a moment.

Xu Qingqiong was doing this on purpose—being a bit difficult just to retaliate for Lin Konglu’s cold, condescending attitude earlier. She smiled at Lin Konglu, thinking she looked like a proud queen with her aura fully unleashed.

Little did she know that in Lin Konglu’s eyes, she looked like a haughty cat—bright lights dancing in her beautiful eyes, chin tilted up, waiting expectantly to be scratched.

Lin Konglu watched her quietly. A ripple of a smile finally appeared in her eyes, her cold exterior softening for a brief moment. “…Alright.”

…

Xu Qingqiong shifted her position on the sofa, swinging her legs listlessly.

To be honest, she never expected their relationship to develop like this. She thought she and Lin Konglu would be roommates with a marriage certificate; she didn’t expect them to turn into… well, “friends with benefits.”

And the more she interacted with her, the more questions Xu Qingqiong had.

Why did Lin Konglu want to get married? What was her “undisclosed reason”? And… why her?

Her mind wandered. She touched her own face, her imagination running wild. Wait, do I look like her “White Moonlight” (unrequited first love)?

Maybe Lin Konglu couldn’t be with her true love, so one day she saw this “imitation” and couldn’t resist…

She laughed at her own ridiculous daydream.

On the video call, Cong Yun suddenly stopped talking. A woman’s voice drifted in faintly, asking Cong Yun in a flat tone who she was chatting with.

The question was ordinary enough.

Yet Cong Yun’s expression instantly became tense. She glanced toward the source of the voice reflexively, then turned back to the camera to whisper a hurried goodbye before cutting the call.

Xu Qingqiong stared at her blank phone screen, guessing that Zhong Qingying must have returned.

She didn’t know much about their relationship. Cong Yun’s marriage had been rushed; she hadn’t even made it to the ceremony and had only sent a hurried blessing.

The only time they had discussed Zhong Qingying was two months ago, when Cong Yun picked her up at the airport after her return to the country.

Xu Qingqiong had casually asked how she and Zhong Qingying met. It was a simple question.

To her surprise, Cong Yun looked like she’d swallowed a lemon. She hesitated for a long time before stammering, “Do you remember my… first love?”

Of course Xu Qingqiong remembered. When Cong Yun was eighteen, she had a whirlwind “cyber-romance.” But she was young and flighty back then, and they broke up quickly.

Xu Qingqiong gasped as she realized something. “Zhong Qingying was your online girlfriend from back then?”

Cong Yun nodded bitterly. “That’s her.”

At the time, Xu Qingqiong just thought it was an incredible coincidence. But upon reflection, it felt off. Why did Cong Yun marry her?

When Cong Yun looked at Zhong Qingying, there was affection, but it was shallow—the kind of impulsive attraction based on looks. It was the love one has for a lover or a bed partner, not the love one has for a life partner.

But despite her doubts, Cong Yun was a rational adult. It wasn’t her place to interfere.

Suddenly, her phone chimed. It was a message from her supervisor asking why she wasn’t in, threatening to dock her pay for being AWOL.

Dock it then. Why don’t you dock your grandfather’s pay while you’re at it? Xu Qingqiong thought irritably.

Because of her rushed return, she hadn’t decided what she wanted to do yet. She had only finished her graduation paperwork. The sudden loss of her only relative had left her in a state of dazed wandering, despite the tough front she put on.

Since Xu Qingqiong had a degree in exhibition curation, Lin Konglu had asked if she wanted to work at Ses for a while. When the mind is empty, it’s best to keep the body busy.

She had agreed, mostly just to give herself something to do. But she hadn’t expected the supervisor to take a dislike to her from day one, picking on her at every turn.

She replied provocatively: “I already took leave.”

In her mind, she thought: I was so tired last night, Lin Konglu should let me rest.

The supervisor wasn’t letting it go: “Who did you ask? I never received a request.”

Xu Qingqiong: “Your boss. Ask her if you don’t believe me.”

Sure enough, no more messages followed. The supervisor didn’t know who her “backer” was and didn’t have the guts to ask. Typical bully.

Xu Qingqiong realized she hadn’t shown Lin Konglu the photos of the wedding venues yet. She tapped her screen, bundled the photos, and sent them all to Lin Konglu.

She added a message: “See if there’s any you like. Or we can talk about it when you get home.”

On the other side of town, in a silent and solemn conference room, the sound of a presentation was interrupted by a sharp notification chime. Then, a rapid-fire series of pings erupted, nearly giving everyone a heart attack.

The executives looked at each other, nervously trying to identify which brave soul hadn’t silenced their phone under Lin Konglu’s watch.

Finally, they realized it was Lin Konglu herself, sitting at the head of the table.

She had set a custom notification sound for one person only.

Lin Konglu glanced at her phone. A faint, nearly imperceptible smile touched the corners of her eyes. She raised a hand in a gesture to pause the meeting, then stepped out with her phone.

Standing by the window in the hallway, she peeked through the blinds. As expected, the workstation was empty; Xu Qingqiong wasn’t there.

She dialed Xu Qingqiong’s number. It rang several times before being picked up. “You didn’t come to the office?” she asked.

Having been so bold with her supervisor, Xu Qingqiong suddenly felt a bit guilty. She hugged a cushion and mumbled, “Mm… too tired.”

Lin Konglu went silent for a few seconds, seemingly understanding something. Her tone softened. “I’m sorry. I went too far last night.”

She took the blame entirely.

Xu Qingqiong wanted to explain that it wasn’t that serious—she was just using it as an excuse to skip work. But then, a flicker of annoyance rose in her chest.

They were getting married; why was Lin Konglu apologizing for something like that? It made it feel like they were total strangers. Even if there was no “love,” this was a consensual thing.

Xu Qingqiong frowned and typed quickly: “Don’t say sorry. After all, we’re girlfriends.”

No, wait. We’re just a contract.

She deleted it and changed it to: “After all, we’re friends.”

That sounds even weirder. She deleted it again.

Suddenly, her finger slipped, and she accidentally sent a “shabby” meme she often used when gaming.

[IMAGE: If you want to go, go. You think I’m a vegetarian?! (Slang meaning: You think I’m weak/innocent?)]

The meme was usually harmless, but in this context—especially while they were discussing whether she was “too tired” from the previous night—the word “go” (which can also mean “to do/mount” in a certain context) took on a very suggestive meaning.

Xu Qingqiong’s brain short-circuited. Her eyes widened, but it was too late to unsend.

Silence hung on Lin Konglu’s end for several seconds. Then, she asked softly: “…Then, what do you want to do?”

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