You Should’ve Said Earlier that you’re Such a Little Flirt! - Chapter 8

The matter of going home was temporarily set aside. The project for Ms. Li eventually landed on Xu Qingqiong’s head—or more accurately, on Xiao Mi, the colleague who had spoken up for her earlier.

The supervisor couldn’t do much to Xu Qingqiong, but Xiao Mi was a newcomer with no background. Consequently, this thorny project was shoved onto Xiao Mi, and the supervisor took every opportunity to find fault with her, both openly and covertly.

Knowing she was likely the cause of Xiao Mi’s trouble, Xu Qingqiong felt a bit guilty. She sought Xiao Mi out during a break, and after preparing the necessary materials and planning proposals, they scheduled an appointment with Ms. Li.

The two of them caught a taxi together. Thinking it wouldn’t take much time, Xu Qingqiong didn’t bother telling Lin Konglu.

Xiao Mi had arranged to meet Ms. Li at a venue so they could finalize the site design while they were at it. Xiao Mi was well-prepared, presenting three different proposals that were clearly thought out—minimizing weaknesses while highlighting the unique features of the art.

However, Ms. Li’s attitude was atrocious. Highly critical, she sat with her arms crossed, the massive ring on her finger flashing as she tore apart everything from the location to the theme. Not a single detail satisfied her.

This kind of behavior was rare in the industry. Most collaborating artists possessed a certain “literary” temperament; even if they were stubborn about their creative vision, they remained polite on the surface. They were never as ruthless or derogatory as Ms. Li.

Xiao Mi froze, unsure of how to respond. Having been at Ses for only a year, she was a novice, but she was meticulous and considered one of the better performers among her peers. Now, under the weight of the verbal abuse, her eyes grew red, and she could barely hold back her tears.

Even if Xu Qingqiong wasn’t passionate about this career, she understood that curating was essentially part of the service industry. And the most important thing in service is understanding the client’s needs.

During the communication, the question Ms. Li asked most frequently was: “Is this the most expensive option?”

That sentence alone revealed her true requirement. She didn’t care about the art; she wanted the “best” of everything. Put simply, she wanted status. Since their philosophies were diametrically opposed, there was no room for negotiation.

Xu Qingqiong listened from the side. When Ms. Li flared up again, Xu Qingqiong pulled Xiao Mi behind her, handed her a tissue, and spoke up with a hint of impatience: “If you like expensive things so much, go hold your exhibition at the Jiawei Museum.”

Her tone was so blunt that Xiao Mi was startled. Before she could even wipe her tears, she grabbed Xu Qingqiong’s sleeve, nearly bowing in apology to the client. It was the first time she had seen someone so defiant; for a moment, the lines between client and service provider were completely blurred.

Unexpectedly, Ms. Li’s expression shifted—not with anger, but with intrigue. “Jiawei?”

It seemed the suggestion had hit the mark.

Jiawei was the oldest and most prestigious museum in the province, ranking high even on a national level. It had hosted numerous high-profile exhibitions and held an impeccable reputation.

Standing behind her, Xiao Mi quietly wiped her eyes and said apprehensively, “But Jiawei’s exhibition halls are very hard to book.”

In truth, they were impossible to book. Top-tier museums weren’t short on money; they had high barriers to entry and screened the quality of works strictly to protect their reputation. Given the quality of Ms. Li’s pieces…

Ms. Li countered, “Hard to book doesn’t mean impossible, right?”

Xiao Mi clutched her tissue, looking troubled. Under normal circumstances, no reputable museum—let alone Jiawei—would agree to host Ms. Li’s work. That was why she had settled for a venue that had a long-term partnership with Ses.

Xu Qingqiong couldn’t stand to watch any longer. Curating was an industry built entirely on connections—from renting venues and borrowing works to inviting big names for endorsements and hiring reliable construction teams. Everything required networking. Xiao Mi was at the start of her career and lacked those channels.

It could only be said that the supervisor was truly heartless. Any seasoned veteran would have known better than to put a rookie in this position.

Xu Qingqiong made a gesture toward Xiao Mi and said succinctly, “Give me two minutes.” She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through her contacts.

Anyone with a bit of knowledge knew that the founder and first director of the Jiawei Museum was named Xu Jiawei. There are many people named Xu in the world, but as luck would have it, this “Xu” was her Xu. Xu Jiawei was her grandmother.

She remembered there was a small hall specifically for private exhibitions. It was modest in scale and didn’t undergo strict quality screening, but it couldn’t be used for public shows. Since Ms. Li’s exhibition was a private affair and not open to the public, it fit the criteria perfectly.

The current director of Jiawei was Chu Chun, a former student of her grandmother’s. Xu Qingqiong found the number and dialed. When the call connected, her voice became soft and well-behaved. “Auntie Chun.”

A few minutes later, she walked back in and gave Xiao Mi a slight wave of her phone. “The venue issue is solved. Someone from Jiawei will contact you shortly to coordinate. You can handle the rest.”

She had solved the bottleneck; she wasn’t going to bother with the tedious details. She was just helping out; to expect her to do the actual labor after solving the biggest hurdle would be “impolite.”

Seeing Xiao Mi still dazed, Xu Qingqiong gave a brief nod, her patience exhausted, and turned to leave.

Only then did Xiao Mi snap out of it and call after her, “Qingqiong, thank you.”

Noticing the hesitation on the other girl’s face, Xu Qingqiong stopped and gestured for her to continue.

Xiao Mi’s eyes were still slightly red. Clenching her hands, she stammered, “Tonight… can I treat you to dinner?”

“No need,” Xu Qingqiong replied.

When Xu Qingqiong first joined, Xiao Mi was the one who helped her get acclimated, acting as her senior. However, Xiao Mi was soft-spoken and lacked presence, while Xu Qingqiong had a “don’t mess with me” aura. In their interactions, Xiao Mi had always been the more proactive one.

Xu Qingqiong had been genuinely surprised when Xiao Mi spoke up for her the other day. She had guessed the supervisor would retaliate, and she was right. However, Xiao Mi could apply for a transfer to another team later; things would improve then.

As far as she was concerned, the matter was settled. Xiao Mi had helped her, and she had returned the favor by solving the venue problem. She didn’t plan on staying at Ses long anyway, so she wasn’t interested in maintaining complex office friendships.

“Anything else?” Xu Qingqiong asked.

Xiao Mi immediately waved her hands. “No, nothing else.” She looked at her expectantly and forced a smile. “Take care on your way back.”

Xu Qingqiong pushed the door open and left. It was the hottest part of the afternoon. She wasn’t in a rush to get back to the office, so she found a fast-food joint and bought an ice cream, nibbling on it with an empty stomach.

The moment she had stepped out of the venue, a wave of heat had hit her face. Whenever it was hot, she lost her appetite; even if she was hungry, she couldn’t bring herself to eat.

As she finished the last bit of the cone, a message arrived from Lin Konglu: “I have a dinner meeting with a partner at 5 PM. The strawberry tarts at that restaurant are quite good. Do you want some?”

Xu Qingqiong grabbed a napkin to wipe her fingertips. After a moment, she replied: “I want two pieces.”

Lin Konglu: “Okay. You can eat them when you get home tonight.”

Xu Qingqiong felt a flicker of happiness. She couldn’t help but think that after spending time together, Lin Konglu—despite her cold exterior—was actually a very good person. She decided to unilaterally categorize Lin Konglu as a “cold but kind person who isn’t good with words.”

Lin Konglu asked again: “Have you had lunch?”

In honor of those two strawberry tarts, Xu Qingqiong took a photo of her empty palm and sent it over.

Lin Konglu: “?”

Xu Qingqiong replied: “A cone. Just finished it.”

She stood up, intending to buy another one, but Lin Konglu anticipated her move and messaged: “Just one is enough. Don’t eat too many; it’s too cold for your stomach.”

“…” Xu Qingqiong frowned, retracting her previous assessment. Lin Konglu was actually a “slightly annoying good person.”

Ignoring the advice, Xu Qingqiong tucked her phone away and accepted a strawberry sundae from the clerk.

Just as she was about to head back to the office, Auntie Chun—whom she had just called—sent a message. She asked with great concern if Xu Qingqiong was back in the country, when she had returned, and why she hadn’t said anything. Before Xu Qingqiong could answer, the elder warmly invited her to dinner.

Auntie Chun: “Qiongqiong, I haven’t seen you in a long time. I miss you.”

Because the funeral had been handled so abruptly and Xu Qingqiong hadn’t made it back in time, it had been six months since they last met. Xu Qingqiong couldn’t bring herself to refuse and agreed.

She hesitated, wondering if she should tell Lin Konglu that she would be home late. At that moment, Xiao Mi messaged to say she had connected with the museum staff, followed by a sincere: “Thank you!”

Xu Qingqiong replied: “You’re welcome.” The thought of messaging Lin Konglu slipped her mind as she put her phone away and went to meet Auntie Chun.

Auntie Chun was in her sixties, her hair silvered by time. She was a very kind woman. Upon seeing Xu Qingqiong, she hugged her and joked, “Little one, did you forget about this old lady?”

“Little one” was the nickname her grandmother used for her when she was small. Now that she was grown, being called that made Xu Qingqiong blush. She hugged her back, embarrassed. “I didn’t forget. I’ve just been busy lately.”

The two went to a restaurant. Under the oppressive humidity of the sun, Xu Qingqiong felt like a piece of modeling clay, ready to melt into the cracks of the pavement at any moment. In contrast, the elderly woman was full of energy and didn’t seem bothered by the heat at all.

It wasn’t until they were seated inside with the air conditioning blasting that Xu Qingqiong felt she had come back to life. While waiting for the food, Auntie Chun chatted with her and asked where she was living. Xu Qingqiong gave a vague address but, for some reason, didn’t mention who she was living with.

Auntie Chun smiled. Just as she was about to speak, a waiter placed a dish between them, and she swallowed her words. Once the waiter left, Auntie Chun’s expression wavered with hesitation. “Qiongqiong, I have to ask… did you get the shares for the museum?”

The ownership of the museum was Auntie Chun’s primary concern. The Jiawei Museum was the most significant part of the grandmother’s estate. The old woman had spent her life building it; even if everything else was lost, the museum’s shares had to be secured.

This was also the main reason Xu Qingqiong had agreed to marry Lin Konglu. She could not stomach the idea of Ye Jianguo getting even 0.01% of the Jiawei Museum.

Xu Qingqiong pinched her sleeve and whispered, “The will hasn’t been executed yet.” At the very least, she had to wait until after the marriage.

Ye Jianguo had reached a “silent understanding” with her on this point. She wasn’t in a rush because she didn’t want him to get a single cent. Since her grandmother had no other relatives, she held 100% of the shares. The will explicitly stated that 95% would go to Xu Qingqiong, and the remaining 5% would go to Xu Qingqiong’s spouse.

If Xu Qingqiong had no spouse, that 5% would go to the legal heir, Ye Jianguo. Currently, Ye Jianguo wasn’t rushing to execute the will because he looked down on that small amount—he wanted more, and he was scheming to get it.

In a way, she had Lin Konglu to thank. If Lin Konglu hadn’t appeared out of nowhere, Xu Qingqiong might have jumped into Ye Jianguo’s trap out of desperation. Back then, Ye Jianguo had been pressuring her to execute the will immediately while simultaneously sending people to get close to her, knowing she was desperate to marry. Though she was guarded, she might have slipped up in her anxiety.

Luckily, Lin Konglu appeared. She had felt relieved more than once. Lin Konglu was the perfect candidate; the power of Ses behind her kept Ye Jianguo from making any reckless moves.

Auntie Chun looked at her, hesitating to speak. She didn’t know the specific details of the will. Xu Qingqiong pursed her lips, wanting to say something but ultimately remaining silent.

She knew she was deceiving herself. But facing Auntie Chun felt like facing her own grandmother; the woman had watched her grow up. If she told her, she suspected Auntie Chun wouldn’t approve of such a reckless marriage.

She sipped her cold drink absentmindedly, her grandmother’s words echoing in her mind: Treat your feelings well. I hope you’ll be happy.

If she was treating her emotions so lightly now, would her grandmother be happy? She had subconsciously refused to think about this before, but now the question was unavoidable.

By the time they finished dinner and small talk, it was dark. Auntie Chun lived alone and was only two kilometers away. She asked, “Qiongqiong, do you live far? Why don’t you come stay at my place?”

Xu Qingqiong politely declined. She took out her phone to call a car for the older woman, only to realize her phone had died. She borrowed a charger from the restaurant’s front desk. After a short while, it finally powered on.

The moment it turned on, the phone vibrated incessantly. A flood of messages popped up. They were all from Lin Konglu.

Starting from 6 PM, there were over a dozen messages and several missed calls. She accidentally clicked on a voice note. Through the speaker, a cold female voice emerged. It sounded as if she were restraining something, asking in a suppressed tone: “You’re not home. Where are you?”

Xu Qingqiong gasped, realizing she had completely forgotten to check in before leaving. Moreover, Lin Konglu’s voice sounded strange—it sounded almost as if she were about to cry.

Sensing that Lin Konglu’s mood was off, and remembering that Lin Konglu had kindly brought her two strawberry tarts, Xu Qingqiong felt a wave of guilt. She immediately began typing an explanation: “I didn’t mean to, my phone died…”

On the other end, the status “Typing…” appeared and disappeared repeatedly. Ultimately, nothing was sent back.

Xu Qingqiong felt even more guilty.

Support You Should’ve Said Earlier that you’re Such a Little Flirt!