Chapter 17: The Boss And Her White Little Lotus
"Huh? Seduce?" she replied lazily in her thoughts. "Aiyu, I'm not seducing anyone."
"Host," Aiyu answered flatly, "your last three lines, your tone, and the fact that you leaned two centimeters closer suggest otherwise."
Yu Zixue sniffed lightly before responding.
"Excuse me?" she retorted. "If anyone is seducing someone, it's Lin Qinglan seducing me. Have you seen her? She's far too beautiful. I'm the victim here."
"Victim?" Aiyu repeated dryly. "Your pulse accelerated. Your pupils dilated. Statistical probability suggests you are enjoying this far too much."
Yu Zixue grinned inwardly.
"Naturally," she replied. "I have eyes. Appreciation is not seduction."
"You called her 'dangerous' and leaned forward," Aiyu reminded her evenly.
"That was academic analysis," Yu Zixue countered smoothly. "Research purposes."
"Mm," Aiyu hummed in disbelief. "And the way you lingered on her lips? Also research?"
Yu Zixue huffed softly.
"You're overthinking it, concubine Aiyu," she said lightly. "I am completely innocent."
"Concubine again?" Aiyu sighed. "Host, please focus. The rule is clear. No intentional seduction."
"I said I'm not seducing anyone," Yu Zixue insisted lightly. "If she's reacting, that's on her. I'm simply existing beautifully."
"Ah yes," Aiyu replied dryly. "Existing. Menacefully."
Yu Zixue's eyes gleamed with mischief before she spoke again.
"Look at the house in the distance… doesn't it resemble the little dark room you're about to enter?" she teased.
Her system remained silent.
"….." Aiyu did not respond.
A slow, deliberate inhale followed from Aiyu, who was clearly reconsidering her life choices.
"Host," Aiyu finally said, her voice unnervingly composed, "threatening your own system is not part of the mission objectives."
Yu Zixue laughed softly. "I'm joking. Mostly. Relax, concubine AI."
"I am not your concubine," Aiyu replied stiffly.
"You answer only to me," Yu Zixue shot back lightly.
"I answer to the Main System," Aiyu corrected her flatly.
"Details," Yu Zixue dismissed with an airy hum.
A pause settled between them.
…Host, Aiyu said at last, tone shifting back to that familiar sarcastic encouragement, despite your analytical approach, your progress is stable. The heroine's favorability is rising. Just… try not to trip over your own ego.
Yu Zixue smiled faintly, satisfied. "See? You can't resist praising me."
"Positive reinforcement increases efficiency," Aiyu noted dryly.
"Admit it," Yu Zixue teased, a mischievous sparkle in her mind.
"…You are performing adequately," Aiyu replied, tone clipped but faintly approving.
Her grin widened. "That's basically 'you're amazing' in Aiyu language."
"Do not get carried away," Aiyu warned, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Yu Zixue hummed happily. "Too late."
She curved her fingers lightly through her hair, brushing a strand behind her ear again, the playful angle of her head betraying the slight thrill of mischief.
The rules might be clear, the system might scold, but Yu Zixue's mind was already racing ahead, imagining the challenge, imagining Lin Qinglan's composed restraint, imagining the cracks she could coax open with just a look or a subtle touch.
"The country is easy to change," she murmured under her breath, "but nature… nature is difficult to change. The host does not show off for a day… it swallows the knife alive."
She stretched slowly, the movement subtle yet fluid. Her sweater shifted slightly along her waist, revealing the shape of her slender figure before settling again. She was fully aware of her softness — the outline of her waist, the sweep of her collarbones, the gentle slope of her shoulders beneath light fabric. And she was acutely aware that Lin Qinglan had noticed.
At first, Du Ruxue had refused to participate in this reality show. Lin Qinglan's constant presence made it unbearable, and Yao Yinuo's persistent pursuit of news about Lin Qinglan was enough to sour her mood for days.
The rules were strict. The country might change, circumstances might shift, but some things — the nature of a person, the essence of who they were — were almost impossible to alter. Yu Zixue had learned this gradually.
Even when she tried to suppress her curiosity, even when she attempted to hide the rapid pulse that flared whenever Lin Qinglan appeared, she failed. She was always drawn back. And perhaps, she admitted to herself now, that pull was not entirely professional.
Initially, Du Ruxue had resisted participation in the variety show entirely. Lin Qinglan's presence complicated everything — every look, every subtle curve of a smile, every fleeting expression — made the thought of appearing on screen almost unbearable.
Yao Yinuo's persistent interest in Lin Qinglan had been enough to make Du Ruxue recoil, the nauseating familiarity of romantic rivalry twisting her stomach.
She had no desire to insert herself into that mess, no wish to parade herself into the petty dramas swirling around the entertainment industry. Watching rivals in love, especially when they were beautiful, talented, and infuriatingly untouchable, had always felt distasteful.
But reality, as it often did, proved uncompromising. Her father's insistence and the subtle pressures from the agency left her with little choice. The company might belong to her on paper, but its power, influence, and demands were relentless.
The variety show was not merely optional — it was mandatory. Participation had become inescapable. She had surrendered with a mixture of resistance and quiet resignation, her pride brushing against the forced compliance like delicate lace against steel.
Yu Zixue leaned back slightly in her chair, her slender fingers drumming lightly against the table's edge, though her mind wandered elsewhere. She thought of Lin Qinglan — her sharp, unwavering eyes, the subtle yet undeniable authority in her voice, the way her presence seemed to pull at the air, bending it with silent force.
Even in passing, Lin Qinglan carried a gravity that demanded attention, a heat that drew Yu Zixue in despite herself.
Her thoughts flickered back to the moment Lin Qinglan had departed moments earlier. That sudden withdrawal, the unspoken weight of her compromise, the quiet undercurrent of desire and control — Yu Zixue felt a strange flutter at the memory.
It was maddening. It was intoxicating. And yet, utterly consuming. She pressed a hand lightly to her chest, feeling the quickened beat beneath her palm, the thrill of anticipation mingling with a hint of guilt.
"Aiyu…" she whispered softly, almost in confession. "…how do I… deal with this?"
Her system, predictably, offered no advice this time. Its silence pressed her further into contemplation. And she didn't need words. She already knew: Lin Qinglan's presence, her attention, the magnetic pull of her being — all were enough to unsettle her.
Enough to make her ache, to make her laugh softly, bite her lip nervously, and wish she could step closer, lean into the warmth that radiated from Lin Qinglan like a quiet, unyielding sun.
Her thoughts drifted irresistibly to the subtle moments they had shared — Lin Qinglan's hand brushing hers in passing, the slight incline of her head when she looked at Yu Zixue with something unspoken flickering behind her eyes, the way her voice had sounded soft yet commanding, teasing yet grounding in a way that made her pulse knot with quiet urgency.
Each memory seemed to leave a trail of warmth along her skin, tiny sparks that she could feel even now, miles away from the studio lights and cameras.