◎ Making Breakfast for Her ◎
Sunlight spilled into the room, scattering gold across the floor.
Yuan Lai sat at the dining table, happily working her way through a now-cold breakfast.
The chair beneath her still held a trace of warmth—left over from where Song Qingxu had been sitting just moments before.
She nibbled on a soup dumpling while sneaking glances toward the living room.
Song Qingxu had changed clothes and was now lounging lazily on the sofa.
From the dining table, Yuan Lai cleared her throat and called out brightly,
“What do you want for breakfast? I can have Aunt Wang send something over.”
Song Qingxu rolled over, pretending not to hear.
Setting down her chopsticks, Yuan Lai walked toward her.
Song Qingxu kept her face turned toward the window, her back to Yuan Lai, the warmth from earlier gone from her cool, pale features.
So Yuan Lai circled around the sofa and wedged herself into her line of sight, smiling in a coaxing way.
“Or… is there something you’re craving? I can go buy it for you.”
“No need. I’m not eating.” Song Qingxu answered.
Her tone remained lukewarm—though Yuan Lai had already injected her pheromones into her gland, their relationship was only slightly closer than that of strangers.
“But you just burned quite a bit of energy,” Yuan Lai said, her gaze lingering on those full lips. “Didn’t you?”
At that, a blush bloomed instantly across Song Qingxu’s pale cheeks. Her long lashes trembled, though she still tried to feign composure.
Raising a brow at the reaction, Yuan Lai poured her a glass of warm water and held it to her lips.
“Then at least replenish some fluids,” she said with a light laugh. “Just now…”
Before she could finish, a sofa cushion smacked her square in the chest. She bent to pick it up, hugging it to herself, studying the shifting expression on Song Qingxu’s face with interest.
“You… you—”
Song Qingxu couldn’t bring herself to curse, but her face was flushed scarlet from Yuan Lai’s brazen words. She hadn’t expected her to say it outright.
Song Qingxu’s voice held a touch of anger. “Don’t bring that slick talk you use outside back into this house!”
“Outside?” Yuan Lai looked puzzled. “I don’t do anything outside. I’ve only ever said those things to you.”
Of course, Song Qingxu didn’t believe her—once again, Yuan Lai was paying for the original owner’s reputation.
Seeing that Song Qingxu was no longer sulking quite as much, Yuan Lai dropped the teasing and asked seriously,
“Why don’t you let me cook for you?”
Yuan Lai’s tone was earnest, almost persuasive.
“You really shouldn’t skip breakfast—it’s bad for your stomach and for your health.”
She sounded ready to nag all day if Song Qingxu refused. Irritated, Song Qingxu finally gave in with a reluctant “Fine.”
But her skeptical look made it clear she doubted Yuan Lai could actually cook.
Yuan Lai, however, had full confidence in her culinary skills. She was sure that once Song Qingxu tasted her food, she’d be asking for seconds.
As the saying goes—to win a woman’s heart, you must first win her stomach.
This was one more step forward in her pursuit. Today, she would win Song Qingxu’s stomach.
Seeing Yuan Lai head confidently toward the kitchen, Song Qingxu finally voiced the question:
“You can really make breakfast?”
Yuan Lai rolled up her sleeves on the spot. “Watch me.”
But the moment she opened the fridge, her confidence faltered.
The double-door refrigerator was completely empty—not a single ingredient.
Go out to buy some?
The thought was instantly dismissed. Going out meant leaving her wife’s side, and that was unacceptable. She wanted to be close to her at all times.
So she took out her phone and ordered groceries online.
Meanwhile, Song Qingxu sat curled on the sofa, hugging the same cushion she’d just thrown at Yuan Lai—breathing in the faint traces of Yuan Lai’s pheromones clinging to it.
It gave her a strange sense of safety, as though she were wrapped in Yuan Lai’s scent.
She knew it was just the pheromones’ influence—she didn’t actually like Yuan Lai—but still, she found herself drawn to her.
Like now, she found herself strangely attached to the cushion Yuan Lai had briefly held. Her fingers tightened around it, a flicker of disgust at herself flashing through her… but she couldn’t fight the instinct to keep glancing at Yuan Lai.
While waiting for the groceries, Yuan Lai naturally drifted back toward the sofa.
She couldn’t stand to be away from Song Qingxu for even a moment.
Sitting down beside her—close enough that only a single arm’s width separated them—she inched subtly closer.
Song Qingxu lifted her eyelids but didn’t stop her, pretending not to notice the small encroachment.
Yuan Lai, inhaling the faint scent of her own pheromones on Song Qingxu, felt a deep satisfaction bloom inside her.
“Anything you feel like eating?” she asked with a smile.
Worried that something too complicated would backfire, Song Qingxu chose the simplest option.
“A sandwich.”
Then, second-guessing herself, she quickly added, “Or anything, really. I’m not picky.”
Whatever Yuan Lai made, she would eat.
“Then I’ll just make you a simple sandwich,” Yuan Lai said—though to her, a sandwich didn’t quite show off her full skill. Still, if her wife wanted it, she’d make a luxury version.
As they spoke, the doorbell rang.
“Ding-dong—”
“Groceries are here.”
Yuan Lai hurried to the door, opening it just a crack to take the bags from the butler before quickly shutting it again. She didn’t want Song Qingxu catching anyone else’s scent.
Glancing over to confirm that Song Qingxu was still on the sofa, she relaxed and went into the kitchen.
Seeing this, Song Qingxu got up and asked, “Want me to help?”
“No need,” Yuan Lai said, preheating the pan. “You just wait out there. It’ll be done soon.”
So Song Qingxu sat back down.
Once the pan was hot, Yuan Lai cracked in an egg, letting it fry while she washed the vegetables in the sink.
When the egg was nearly done, she set it aside and put slices of bacon into the pan, crisping both sides.
She toasted the bread for about three minutes. While waiting, she scooped out an avocado, seasoning it with black pepper, sea salt, and lemon juice before mashing it smooth.
She sliced a tomato into thin rounds, added a slice of cheese, then layered everything neatly onto the toasted bread.
An avocado–cheese–bacon sandwich, fresh and fragrant.
She plated it and set it in front of Song Qingxu.
“Your sandwich is served, miss!”
Along with the meal, Yuan Lai had another service in mind. While Song Qingxu ate, she pulled out an ointment.
Seeing the glance, Yuan Lai explained, “I noticed a scratch on the back of your neck. This will help it heal faster.”
Song Qingxu didn’t refuse, tacitly allowing her to proceed.
The warm sandwich was surprisingly delicious, and Song Qingxu found herself glancing at Yuan Lai in surprise. Her image of her was… shifting.
Meanwhile, Yuan Lai squeezed ointment onto her fingertip before gently touching it to the back of Song Qingxu’s neck.
The cool cream made her shiver.
The skin around the glands was always more sensitive than elsewhere.
“It’s a little cold now, but once I spread it out, it won’t be,” Yuan Lai said softly.
Her warm fingertips smoothed the ointment carefully over every inch.
The small, clustered scratches there weren’t from an accident—Yuan Lai could tell at a glance they were self-inflicted with nails.
She didn’t need to guess why. When Song Qingxu had needed the comfort of her alpha’s pheromones, she hadn’t been there.
So she’d had no choice but to…
Yuan Lai’s eyes darkened with guilt at the thought.
In her self-reproach, she unconsciously released a heavy wave of pheromones.
“What are you doing?!” Song Qingxu froze mid-bite, turning toward her in shock.
“What’s wrong?” Yuan Lai asked, snapping out of her thoughts and hastily reining her pheromones back in.
But it was too late—Song Qingxu was already affected, leaning back in her chair, cheeks flushed, breath unsteady.
This time it truly hadn’t been intentional. Yuan Lai reached out to soothe her, but Song Qingxu shoved her away.
“You… you need to… stay away from me right now!”
Though she hadn’t used much force, the rejection was clear. Yuan Lai had no choice but to step back.
By the time Song Qingxu regained her composure, the sandwich on her plate had gone cold.
Following her, Yuan Lai tried to explain,
“Listen, it really wasn’t on purpose.”
Song Qingxu’s voice was cold.
“So you expect me to believe a well-developed alpha can’t control her own pheromones?”
“You shouldn’t be telling me this—you should be telling the doctor.”
“…Sorry.” Yuan Lai lowered her head in apology. “I’ll be careful to keep it under control from now on.”
Song Qingxu went back to her room, changed clothes, and came out again, a fresh inhibitor patch applied to her gland.
Yuan Lai’s gaze locked on the patch at the back of her neck. It was an eyesore—such a small piece of adhesive, yet it felt like it was mocking her helplessness.
They lived under the same roof, and yet her omega would rather use an inhibitor patch than let her offer comfort.
Was her comforting technique really that bad?
Yuan Lai began to doubt herself. She even considered visiting forums to study and improve her skills.
Since Yuan Lai had admitted fault with such sincerity, Song Qingxu didn’t press the matter. The irritation in her heart dissipated quickly.
She picked up her half-eaten sandwich and continued eating.
Food shouldn’t be wasted—especially since it was the first breakfast Yuan Lai had ever made for her. She couldn’t bring herself to throw away that gesture.
Yuan Lai suddenly reached out a hand toward her.
“What is it?” Song Qingxu asked.
“It’s gone cold.” Yuan Lai took the sandwich from her. “I’ll heat it up for you.”
Sitting at the dining table, Song Qingxu watched Yuan Lai’s busy silhouette in the kitchen. Something stirred faintly in her chest.
So she took the initiative. “Come shopping with me this afternoon.”
The words had barely left her lips before she realized it was out of character. She must have let her guard down for a moment to have extended such an invitation.
In the kitchen, Yuan Lai—who was “busy” microwaving the sandwich—immediately agreed, afraid that if she hesitated, Song Qingxu might take it back. Half her “work” was already done just by pressing the start button.
The other half would be taking it out again.
“When are we leaving?” Yuan Lai pulled the sandwich from the microwave. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“Whenever you’re free,” Song Qingxu replied between bites, concerned Yuan Lai might have other plans.
“I’m free all day—anytime works.” Yuan Lai replied.
“Then we’ll go once I finish eating.” Song Qingxu said.
This trip was for purchasing outdoor survival gear.
Although the show was called Wilderness Diary, it was still a variety program, and the celebrity guests—mostly actors and influencers—had no actual survival experience. The rules for what they could bring weren’t too strict.
Each participant was allowed one backpack’s worth of supplies; anything beyond that was prohibited.
So Song Qingxu planned to buy compact, multifunctional items that wouldn’t take up much space.
Normally, this was the assistant’s job. But since her company only assigned her temporary assistants—who only stayed during filming—she was usually without help the rest of the time.
Perhaps that was why she’d asked Yuan Lai along. Maybe, in some unguarded moment, she felt lonely.
Yuan Lai, on the other hand, was thrilled. Her smile never once faded. She had been ready and waiting by the door long before they were set to leave.
She carried nothing except her phone and car keys in her pockets.
Song Qingxu wore a long white dress and paired it with a matching underarm bag, where she kept her small essentials.
While changing shoes at the entryway, she set the bag on the counter.
Yuan Lai picked it up naturally, and before Song Qingxu could take it back, she had opened the door and stepped outside, holding it in one hand while bracing the door with the other.
“Let’s go.”
The door clicked softly shut behind them.
It was their first time going out together. By coincidence—or perhaps not—Yuan Lai wore a simple white shirt that matched Song Qingxu’s dress.
She looked fresh and youthful—not like the heiress of a wealthy family, but like a carefree college girl.
From a distance, they looked perfectly matched.
The driver remained at the old estate, and Yuan Lai hadn’t called him over. She also didn’t bring bodyguards—she planned to drive herself.
Two people fit comfortably in the car; three would have been cramped.
Once they were seated, Yuan Lai started the engine. “Where to?”
From the passenger seat, Song Qingxu turned slightly toward her, holding out her phone with the address of a nearby mall displayed on the screen.
Yuan Lai didn’t really study the route. Her heart was too caught up in the sudden closeness. The light fragrance on Song Qingxu’s body filled her senses.
Because she had leaned in, her long hair swept to one side. With a practiced motion, she gathered it to the other shoulder, the strands leaving a faint, lingering scent in the air.
Yuan Lai had leaned slightly toward her, so when the hair flicked over, the tips brushed across her cheek, leaving a tingling sensation behind.
She suppressed the itch in her chest with a small cough and focused on driving.
The weekday roads were clear, and they arrived quickly.
Parking in the underground garage, they took the escalator straight up from the basement level.
The bag was still in Yuan Lai’s hand; she’d taken it out of the car with her, and Song Qingxu hadn’t had a chance to reclaim it.
While waiting for the elevator, Yuan Lai kept her head down, replying to messages.
Song Qingxu deliberately turned her head away to avoid seeing the screen. It was easier not to know—because if she saw that Yuan Lai was messaging another woman, she wouldn’t be able to find a reasonable excuse to ignore it.
When Yuan Lai realized they were headed to an outdoor gear store, she understood it was preparation for Wilderness Diary. But she knew nothing about survival gear, so she sought advice.
Unfortunately, none of the original owner’s so-called “friends” were remotely reliable—so she deleted them all in one go.
Instead, she asked her newly added manager, Linda.
Linda’s reputation as a top agent was well deserved—within half an hour, she sent back a comprehensive, professional packing list.
Yuan Lai beamed, forwarding it immediately to Song Qingxu.
A vibration sounded from the bag.
Song Qingxu glanced at Yuan Lai, who instantly understood, unzipped the bag, and held it out for her.
The message was from Yuan Lai—an itemized list of survival essentials, detailed and exhaustive. The professionalism behind it was obvious.
When Song Qingxu looked up, Yuan Lai was smiling warmly at her.
Yuan Lai said, “We’re both clueless about outdoor stuff. If we just follow this list, we won’t go wrong.”
Without waiting for a reply, Yuan Lai hurried off. “I’ll get us a shopping cart. Be right back.”
The question on the tip of Song Qingxu’s tongue—Who gave you this list?—never made it out. Asking would mean crossing a line she wasn’t ready to cross.
Better to leave things as they were.
By the time Yuan Lai returned with the cart, Song Qingxu’s expression was cool and composed, as though she hadn’t just been wrestling with herself.
On a weekday, the store was nearly empty.
Pushing the cart alongside her, Yuan Lai chatted idly, savoring every moment of their time together.
She could afford to be leisurely because she’d already handed the list to a store clerk earlier, asking them to gather everything for her.
“Ever thought about switching agencies?” Yuan Lai asked. “This is assistant work, but your company makes you do it yourself.”
Song Qingxu paused. “If I leave now, the termination fee will be huge. I’ll stick it out—it’s not long before my contract ends.”
Yuan Lai had checked; “not long” meant nearly another six months.
Yuan Lai started to say, “Have you ever thought about…”
But Song Qingxu abruptly turned, shielding her face and tugging Yuan Lai closer. Conveniently, a display of sun-protection hiking hats was right beside them.
She grabbed two and plopped them onto their heads.
Her voice was cold and firm. “Cover your face.”
Yuan Lai didn’t stop to question—she immediately pulled the mask down, concealing her face completely.
Across the store, a paparazzo’s camera shutter clicked furiously.