Chapter 21

“She can really *eat*?”
The response slipped out of Yu Qing’s mouth before she could stop it. Inwardly, she wondered if Aunt Yang had been watching too many martial‑arts dramas lately.
Listen to that phrasing. Nobody who hadn’t binged at least three fight flicks in a row could talk like that.
Aunt Yang nodded. “Oh yes. The ones who were early to the cafeteria this morning said Butler Xiang ate eighty meat buns and twenty sticky‑rice chickens. She almost cleared out everyone’s breakfast. The assistants wrapping buns couldn’t keep up with how fast she was eating.”
Yu Qing: “……”
She had already been skeptical about the whole ‘butler versus head chef’ story. At this point, she dismissed Aunt Yang’s report entirely.
“Do you honestly think that’s possible, Aunt Yang?”
Her tone had gone dry.
Apparently this was the first time she’d realized how little critical thinking some of the aunties in this house had.
Hearing the note buried in her voice, Aunt Yang got to her feet and gave a couple of sheepish laughs. “Well, I guess I’m only half convinced. But it’s just, you know, more than a few people said they’d seen her eat—and that she really can put it away.”
If it had only been one or two, she might have doubted it. But when half a dozen staff swore up and down they’d witnessed it themselves, what was she supposed to do? *Not* believe them?
“……”
When Aunt Yang left, Yu Qing dropped her gaze to her own hands.
She curled one loosely into a fist, roughly measuring out the size of a bun in her palm, then stretching both hands as if to encompass eighty.
Her mind wandered back to that morning when Xiang Changge had come to drag her out of bed.
The white shirt she’d been wearing was tailored with a cinched waist. That waist…
Yu Qing’s “bun‑measuring” hands slowly drew in.
Then she lined them up against her own body.
It was maybe only a fraction larger than her own.
She didn’t look like someone who could pack away quite that much food.
At that precise moment, the subject of those rumors—blissfully unaware of her tragic public image—was sitting in a side conference room off the back hall, staring down at a résumé in deep thought.
The room was usually used for staff meetings. Today, Xiang Changge had repurposed it as an interview room.
She had let a lot of people go. Now she needed fresh blood.
The Yu family’s job posting was generous enough that the moment it went up, hundreds—if not thousands—of applications poured in. With the system’s help she’d filtered out a large chunk, then sent interview invitations to the rest.
Beyond filling the usual household roles, she had one special slot in mind: two or three warm, outgoing “big sisters” to keep Yu Qing company. They didn’t need to do much, just be around to play with her.
The candidates she was interviewing now were for that role.
Under her steady gaze, the girl across from her twisted the hem of her skirt under the table.
She really, really wanted the job.
Thinking of the salary listed on the posting, Chu Keke did her best to steady her heartbeat. She was just opening her mouth to say something when the beautiful but rather daunting butler in front of her finally spoke her name.
“Chu. Ke. Ke?”
Author’s note: The wilderness survival arc will come later, once the relationship between the two leads has grown into something like love‑and‑war. I’ll mark it clearly when it starts, so if you’re especially looking forward to that part, please be patient. [kisses][kisses]
Also—please bookmark my author page. There are lots of completed stories there you can binge without waiting for updates. Everyone’s welcome to come take a look.
The next novel will be “After I Stole My Stepsister’s Girlfriend.” There’s already 30k of trial reading up—begging for your pre‑emptive bookmarks. [doge with rose][doge with rose]
Blurb:
When the Pei family brought home an illegitimate daughter, all of Yuan Harbor waited to see proud, domineering eldest Miss Pei Miu‑shu humiliated.
They weren’t disappointed. The two Pei sisters clashed on everything—from the future of Pei Corporation down to jewelry, cars, haute couture, even limited‑edition lingerie. If one showed the slightest hint of interest in something, the other would rush to snatch it.
No matter what outsiders thought, Pei Miu‑shu, who loathed her stepsister to the core, didn’t hesitate when she learned that said sister was currently getting cozy with a certain bar owner. Black card in hand, she marched into the bar, spent money like water, and personally named the sultry, magnetic lady boss she wanted to drink with.
The moment she learned the woman’s name, she’d quipped, “Jiang Shang‑yue? Why not become the moon in *my* arms instead?”
Pei Miu‑shu played a three‑month courtship game with Jiang Shang‑yue. Then one night, after the other woman “accidentally” drank something tainted, she clung to Pei’s waist and begged in a voice that could melt bone for her help.
Pei didn’t hesitate.
The next morning, body still buzzing with the echoes of the night before, Pei Miu‑shu looked at the sleeping woman at her side and realized she rather liked this so‑called girlfriend of her stepsister’s.
The thought of making that white‑lotus stepsister—who’d tried to snatch her inheritance—watch them be affectionate every day, forced to call her “big sis” through gritted teeth, thrilled her. Tilting Jiang Shang‑yue’s chin up, she declared, full of swagger, “Don’t worry. I’ll take responsibility.”
Jiang Shang‑yue traced her brows with languid fingers, eyes full of trust. “All right. And how will you do that?”
Later, Pei Miu‑shu learned two things:
One, the “drugged” drink had been laced by Jiang Shang‑yue herself.
Two, the person her stepsister had always liked… was her.
The girl across from Xiang Changge lifted her eyes.
Those gray‑brown irises, looking at her without a hint of disguise, made Chu Keke’s body tense up. For a moment she felt like prey pinned beneath the gaze of a lion on the steppe.
Only when that gaze turned quizzical and the other woman tilted her head did Chu Keke snap back to herself.
Flustered, she stammered, “Y‑yes, that’s me…”
Then, almost on autopilot, she added, “I’m, um, twenty‑one this year, a rising senior at A City University. I’ll be starting my internship next semester. I have lots of free time, and I can promise to come whenever you need me…”
While she spoke, Xiang Changge simply studied her.
Large, round black‑framed glasses couldn’t hide the brightness in her almond‑shaped eyes.
Her hair was neatly tied back; a few strands of bangs clung damply to her forehead despite the air‑conditioning, telling of nervous sweat.
Her cheeks still held a touch of baby fat, lending her a soft, cute look.
Taken alone, none of her features were extraordinary. Put together, they gave off a quiet, comforting charm.
Most striking of all was the sheer vitality about her—like a sunflower under blazing sun.
Eyes shining, lips tipped perpetually upward… what was that saying? She looked like the very picture of “full of energy.”
No wonder the book had dubbed her the “stubborn, tenacious, blazing little white‑flower heroine.”
Sensing Xiang Changge’s thoughts, the system gave a cold snort in her head. “Fine, I admit the heroine has her traits. But our supporting female isn’t any worse. It’s all just authorial ‘settings’ anyway, hmph!”
Why such a gulf between heroine and support in reputation and treatment? Good or bad, it all came down to a single sentence from the author.
Xiang Changge stayed silent.
From that tone alone, she could tell exactly what kind of fan the system was—a textbook “supporting‑female stan.”
Still, it had a point.
—Settings.
In the end, everything in this book was nothing more than the author’s settings.
“Melancholy is her talent” existed purely for the sake of the plot. Strip away that line, and who could say Yu Qing was truly born a perpetually sorrowful soul?
Reining her thoughts back in, Xiang Changge gave the visibly nervous girl a slight nod.
The job ad she had posted was very clear: she wanted three lively, sincere girls, brimming with energy, to keep the young miss company.
They wouldn’t have to come every day; scheduling would depend on the miss’s mood. But once they were on‑site, they’d be paid 500 yuan an hour, with meals and transport reimbursed.
Chu Keke was already the eleventh candidate she’d seen that afternoon.
Because this concerned Yu Qing, she had been extra cautious. She still hadn’t settled on anyone.
On paper—and in person—Chu Keke’s résumé, personality, and appearance all fit the bill.
Her hesitation lay in something else entirely.
Chu Keke was the original book’s heroine.
From what the system had told her, she’d known the male lead for nearly a year now. Plenty of emotional entanglements had already sprouted between them. The endless rain in City A these days was, in narrative terms, all for their sake.
Silently, Xiang Changge asked, “Is it really a good idea to have the heroine here to keep the supporting female company?”
The system went quiet for a beat.
Several seconds later, it answered, “That depends on what you plan to do.”
“Right now, the heroine doesn’t know who her future employer will be, or what the relationship is between the supporting female and the male lead… Oh, and she doesn’t know he’s engaged.”
But if Chu Keke really stayed at the Yu residence, sooner or later she would find out. She might even bump into the male lead here and learn early on that he had a fiancée.
In the original story, that had been one of the big, angsty climaxes.
Xiang Changge dropped her gaze back to the résumé in her hand.
In the little photo at the top right, Chu Keke smiled softly at the camera.
Male lead, heroine, supporting female… she couldn’t be bothered sorting that knot out. All she cared about was her mission.
In the book, once Yu Qing learned the truth about the male and female lead, she had immediately broken off the engagement. Whatever warmth she felt toward him hadn’t run that deep. All that drawn‑out torment between the leads had been their own doing.
That they’d kept Yu Qing in the dark so long was what had made Xiang Changge feel, reading it, as if she’d swallowed a fly.
A glint flickered through her eyes. When she looked up again, she gave Chu Keke a polite smile. “All right. Let’s exchange contact information.”
That was as good as telling her she’d passed.
For a moment, Chu Keke could only stare. Then delight exploded in her chest. Smiling so wide her eyes curved, she gushed thanks, grateful for the chance.
On the shuttle ride down the mountain, packed with other successful candidates, she couldn’t help glancing back.
Sometime while they’d been inside, the rain had stopped. The heavy clouds hanging over City A were beginning to break, and the sky brightened. The tallow trees, washed clean, gleamed a richer green.
They drove farther and farther from the rows of podocarpus flanking the villa gates, but the place itself—silent, imposing—didn’t lose an ounce of presence when she looked back.
It might be an unstable job, but the butler had said that even if they weren’t called in once all month, they’d still receive a 2,000‑yuan base salary.
In other words, now that she’d passed the interview, she’d get 2,000 yuan a month for doing nothing at all until she was let go.
The only condition was that, when they did call, she had to come.