Mistakenly Marked – Chapter 30

Car Crash

“I Wanted to See You.”

Night deepened.

            

The Buffett business van¹ waiting below the villa switched its headlights back on.

Bo Suiqing never spent the night at the villa — an understanding between her and Bo Shisong that needed no words.

Because at night, Bo Shisong always had other appointments.

            

As the van drove out of the villa district, it came face to face with another car.

The road had been roomy enough, yet the oncoming car suddenly jerked its wheel.

The driver braked in time and tapped the horn in warning.

            

The other car showed no intention of yielding.

Headlights flickering, it lowered its window and rolled slowly closer.

“Miss,” the driver spoke up, “someone you know?”

            

It looked like they wanted to say hello.

Bo Suiqing raised her eyes. The curtain drew back automatically; she lowered her window and looked out.

The moment her gaze met the person in the oncoming car, it froze.

            

“Miss Bo.”

The woman’s voice was as cloyingly sweet as ever, a bright smile lifted on her face. “We meet again.”

The car’s interior was dim, but the lamps at the villa gate were bright.

            

Through the window, they lit up the woman’s expensive, gorgeous fur coat.

And because the coat was deliberately left slightly open, the flimsy garment beneath it — outlining a graceful figure — was faintly visible too.

What she’d come for.

            

Self-evident.

“I did say before,” Lu Yan remarked, one hand resting on her window frame, dimples showing as she smiled, “that we might be seeing a lot of each other.”

Lu Yan widened her eyes, waiting to see the surprise and shock she imagined would cross Bo Suiqing’s face.

            

Instead she heard only: “Did you?”

“Miss Lu—”

The tone actually carried a smile, drifting down light as crushed snow.

            

“We’ve met exactly once. I’ve seen plenty of Alphas pass through this place. By next time, the face I see may well not be yours.”

Her pale silver eyes curved slightly, an unconcealed indifference welling up in their depths, stinging Lu Yan’s cheeks hot.

Gritting her teeth, Lu Yan quickly recomposed herself, squeezed out a smile, and let her words grow only more offensive:

            

“We’ve met just this once — probably because Shisong sees you far—too—rarely.”

But she failed to see Bo Suiqing’s smile diminish by even a fraction.

On that flawless, lushly beautiful face, the spring-warm smile deepened the instant she heard it — beautiful to the point of seeming otherworldly, transfixing to behold.

            

Then Bo Suiqing said, still smiling: “Ram it.”

“Hm?”

Lu Yan blinked, not understanding.

            

The next instant, the driver released the brake and wrenched the wheel around.

“Crash!”

“Ah!”

            

The impact tangled with a woman’s scream, sending the servants running out to see.

Amid the chaos, the window rose back up. The black Buffett turned around and drove off into the night.

Leaving the panicked crowd behind.

            

---

Once they reached the main road, the driver glanced at the rearview mirror. “Miss, are you all right?”

“You did very well just now.”

Bo Suiqing gazed out the window, her expression calm, seemingly unaffected — merely admiring the night view.

            

A few seconds later, she lowered her head, tapped her phone a few times, and completed the transfer.

“Five hundred thousand. After the repair costs, the rest is your bonus.”

The driver nodded like a chick pecking rice. “Thank you, Miss.”

            

“Shall I take you back to the apartment first?”

Bo Suiqing’s fingertip slid downward, toward the message list — behind the little blue whale, the two message notifications she couldn’t bear to delete.

Her fingertip brushed gently across them. “Act in one more scene with me, and the bonus goes up another ten thousand.”

            

---

“The same… address? So that listener friend of yours, the one you’ve been in touch with for so long… is in Binxi too?”

Zou Wan finished the last push-up with heroic effort and flopped down onto the yoga mat.

She reached a hand toward Xu Jialuo, blinking and grinning. “Then ask them out to meet!”

            

Xu Jialuo looked down at her. “Why meet?”

“Don’t you want to know what kind of person they actually are?”

To claim she wasn’t curious at all would be a lie.

            

But she valued the rapport they’d built over the years more than the curiosity.

“Whatever kind of person they are,” Xu Jialuo said, pulling Zou Wan up, “we only discuss music. There’s no need to meet offline.”

“Only discuss music? After all these years of discussing, I refuse to believe you don’t feel something special for them.”

            

“…”

She did.

Not a friend — because outside of music, they never touched a single topic friends ought to discuss.

            

And yet already more than friends.

It was special.

Without them, she wouldn’t still be standing here now.

            

She’d have drowned long ago in that rainstorm pond.

Zou Wan guessed: “What if they’re about our age, and a total beauty on top of that?”

Xu Jialuo shook her head. “I don’t wonder about things like that.”

            

Occasionally she did wonder what sort of temperament the person had, what kind of work they did.

But she never set limits on their age or looks.

The exchange and resonance of music is born of the heart — it has nothing to do with the outer shell.

            

Speculating past that line would be disrespectful.

“Think a meetup is too abrupt?” Zou Wan craned her head to peer at Xu Jialuo, still not giving up. “But nothing ever happens unless you take the initiative.”

Xu Jialuo lifted an eyelid and tossed a sweat towel at the flushed, exhausted Zou Wan. “I don’t need a story.”

            

Keeping things as they were was enough.

Unless the other person wanted to know her better — then she wouldn’t refuse. But unless they brought it up, she wouldn’t intrude on their life for no reason.

Understanding her meaning, Zou Wan tipped her head back and sighed. “The day you and I became friends — I really do owe it all to my thick skin.”

            

“But you can’t spend your whole life alone, can you?”

Sitting down beside her, Zou Wan twisted at her water bottle, analyzing under her breath:

“Before, you were a beta — fine, pure of heart and free of appetites, fair enough.

            

“But now you’ve differentiated into an Alpha. One fixed rut a month, for the rest of your life — are you really going to gut out every single one on suppressants?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Suppressants are very mature technology now. No major harm to the body.”

If she could get through this stretch — if her gland could process pheromones normally — there might be no problem at all.

            

Taking the still-unopened bottle from Zou Wan’s hand, Xu Jialuo twisted the cap off with ease and handed it back.

Then she bent her head and went on wrapping white cloth strips around her wrist.

Zou Wan held the water, glanced at the trainers sneaking looks at them from afar, then looked back at Xu Jialuo.

            

Casual sportswear, black hair tied up, her cool, clear features bared without a shred of cover.

The plainest possible outfit, and yet impossible to look away from.

Slender fingers smoothing the white cloth, knuckles standing out with each motion, winding round and round the cold-pale, leanly powerful wrist, pulling tight.

            

It was like being bound around the heart.

Zou Wan looked down at the bottle she hadn’t even had to open for herself and clicked her tongue. “Luoluo baby, you’re just too good at this.”

Good at looking after others — and at looking after herself.

            

Zou Wan sat up straight, suddenly serious. “But as your best friend, I hope that someday there’s someone to look after you too — someone you can lean on, and who can lean on you.”

Lean on each other.

It sounded simple. Think it through, and it was nothing but hassle.

            

Meeting someone, understanding them, accommodating them — every single step was hassle.

And Xu Jialuo had never liked hassle.

“I’m used to my life as it is, and I’m satisfied with it,” Xu Jialuo said evenly.

            

“I don’t want to waste time being with another person — adjusting to them, sharing my private space.”

Alone, she could enjoy every day perfectly well, her own emotions in her own hands. Stable. Fine.

“Don’t want to put in the time? Then what…” Zou Wan pointed at herself, then at Liang Xiao, still taking coaching on how to throw a punch. “Alpha-with-Alpha pheromone compatibility is a bit tricky, but it beats nothing… want to pick one of us, me or Liang Xiao?”

            

A red boxing glove came flying over and bounced precisely off Zou Wan’s red head.

Zou Wan howled: “What was that for!”

Liang Xiao bent to pick up the glove. “Helping you shake the water out of your brain.”

            

Zou Wan pouted, snatched the glove, and hurled it back.

Still refusing to concede, she pressed on: “If me and Liang Xiao won’t do… that Omega you mentioned before — keeping up a temporary-marking arrangement with her wouldn’t be bad either.”

Zou Wan reasoned it out: “It’s not that whole romance routine, so it skips the hassles you were talking about, and it solves the urgent problem — stabilizes your pheromones.”

            

An absolutely ideal arrangement.

Xu Jialuo’s winding of the cloth strips paused for a fraction — then continued as if she’d heard nothing.

Then she took the gloves Liang Xiao held out and stepped into the ring.

            

No coaching needed: a few punches, then a clean spinning back kick, full force, the heavy bag swinging wildly.

The trainer who’d just been instructing Liang Xiao like a schoolkid stood to one side, eyes full of admiration.

Zou Wan tipped her chair onto its back legs, tossing in a round of applause now and then.

            

After watching for a while, she turned to Liang Xiao.

“What’s with Luoluo today? She’s got extra fire in her — like she’s venting. Is it the Alpha differentiation? She’s incredible.”

“Be rigorous,” Liang Xiao said, toes braced protectively against Zou Wan’s chair, which was tilting toward a tumble; her fingertip hooked the towel sliding off Zou Wan’s shoulder and draped it back.

            

“Not every Alpha is incredible.”

“Hmph. I’m just not good at this kind of sport.” Zou Wan tipped her head back and laughed, tongue flicking over the corner of her lip. “There are other sports I’m very, very good at.”

Liang Xiao reached over and dropped the towel over her face.

            

Zou Wan, having licked a mouthful of terry fuzz: “…”

Just before rising to do battle, they heard the phone Xu Jialuo had left on the table start to ring.

Zou Wan grabbed her towel and turned to look. At the top of the screen, the incoming number carried a label of just two characters:

            

“Trouble”².

…Hm?

Zou Wan pointed at the screen. “There are actually people surnamed ‘Trouble’?”

            

Liang Xiao followed her finger, gaze lingering a moment, one eyebrow arching slightly. “You didn’t know? There are even people surnamed ‘Dunce.'”

Zou Wan, curious: “Really? That’s so unlucky.”

Liang Xiao nodded, her eyes settling on Zou Wan’s face. “Deeply unlucky.”

            

“…Fuck³.” Belatedly getting it, Zou Wan sprang up swearing.

Liang Xiao was on her feet first, dodging out of range, then carried the phone to the ringside and held it out to Xu Jialuo. “Someone’s looking for you.”

The sandbag, freshly kicked, was still shuddering. Xu Jialuo walked to the edge, bit the edge of her glove, pulled the right one off, and took the phone.

            

Her gaze dropped to the screen; the moment she made out who it was, the space between her brows drew involuntarily tight.

Liang Xiao watched her reaction, listening as the ringtone sounded once, then once again.

Just as it seemed the ringing would die unanswered, Xu Jialuo turned and walked a few steps away, swiped her fingertip, and answered.

            

The call connected. Xu Jialuo said nothing; neither did the other end.

As if determined to wait for her to speak first.

Pushing her luck again.

            

Sure enough, just as she’d thought — this person wouldn’t only use her once.

Xu Jialuo let out a breath and said, low: “What is it this time—”

“Xu Jialuo.”

            

Three syllables, soft and light, the cadence of a downy cloud at the sky’s edge.

Yet they cut off, effortlessly, the rare irritation in Xu Jialuo’s voice.

The next instant, rain fell from that cloud — carrying a hoarse, crying note. “…I crashed my car.”

            

“Can you… come help me?”

---

The sky hung black and heavy; storm clouds crept closer.

Barely a few clear days, and it wanted to rain again.

            

The highway approaching the southern suburbs was silent, few cars passing.

A business van with a dent in its left front end sat parked at the roadside.

The driver’s door hung open. On a rock beside the road crouched a figure in snow white.

            

Like a butterfly come to rest.

In the night, strikingly conspicuous.

Even from a distance, Xu Jialuo caught sight of her without the least effort.

            

The black Bentley braked hard at the roadside. Xu Jialuo got out, slammed the door, and strode toward the figure at the road’s edge.

Footsteps closing in.

The instant a sneaker’s toe entered her field of vision, Bo Suiqing lifted her head toward the approaching Xu Jialuo.

            

The moon hung directly ahead, positioned to light her face as fully as possible.

On the porcelain-white face, stray strands of hair had scattered; lovely crescent brows knit faintly, helpless.

The waterlight in her eyes was pitched to perfection — hovering, refusing to fall — ripples of feigned fortitude, the kind that softens hearts best.

            

The kind that, on the big screen, could drown an audience in an instant—

Xu Jialuo said: “Where’s the other car in this crash?”

“…”

            

Her brow twitched beyond her control. Bo Suiqing swallowed, then continued:

“I was afraid of being recognized, so I didn’t keep anyone here.

“I called my driver, but she says something’s come up at home — told me to leave the car here for now, that she’d come deal with it in a while.”

            

“So she can’t come over, and you call me.”

Xu Jialuo listened with a furrowed brow, her lidded eyes drifting over the state of the vehicle, then back to the person sitting on the ground, confirming there were no obvious injuries.

“Bo Suiqing, do I look like someone with nothing but free time?”

            

Or did Bo simply think her as easy to order about as her own staff.

Someone who’d come the moment she was called.

The moon was swallowed by the clouds.

            

Bo Suiqing froze, taking in the impatience-laced coldness on Xu Jialuo’s face, and said nothing more.

Right.

With Xu Jialuo, her tactics always seemed to fail.

            

Not because the acting was poor.

Because she was hated too much.

That was why the woman wouldn’t take the bait.

            

Then why had she come?

…Just to rebuke her to her face?

A few muffled rumbles of thunder rolled in the distance; the night wind ahead of the rain grew colder still.

            

It cooled her momentarily fevered head.

This was wrong.

It shouldn’t be like this.

            

As it was, she was only making Xu Jialuo hate her more.

The hand resting on her skirt hem curled into a fist. Bo Suiqing slowly lowered her head.

The emotions she’d fought to suppress all night came surging up beyond her control.

            

Just as her eye sockets began to burn and her vision misted over with water, the figure before her bent down too.

One hand braced on a knee, Xu Jialuo leaned in, looking her over. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Bo Suiqing started, lifted her head again, and only after two seconds found her voice, hoarse: “…No.”

            

“…”

Sure enough — her eyes were reddening again.

The pretty outer corners of her eyes tinged with faint color, the waterlight in their depths like shattered stars, on the verge of falling.

            

About to cry.

The great starlet of flawless acting, so practiced at lies.

Xu Jialuo eased out a breath and looked away. “Can you walk?”

            

“…I can.”

One hand braced against the ground, Bo Suiqing rose.

She truly wasn’t injured — only that she’d been crouched too long, her legs half-numb, and she couldn’t quite hold her footing.

            

A hand clamped her arm and steadied her.

Without a word, Xu Jialuo pulled Bo Suiqing to her feet, stepped closer, raised a hand at her side, and fixed it on her shoulder.

The very image, from those photos, of Bo Suiqing lending her support.

            

Bo Suiqing’s eyes widened slightly, stiff under the other woman’s hold.

Inside, though, her heart leapt.

Right up until she realized Xu Jialuo was steering her toward the business van.

            

Not toward Xu Jialuo’s own car.

Puzzled, Bo Suiqing spoke: “Xu Jialuo, why…”

“Is tricking me really that fun?”

            

“…What?”

Xu Jialuo stopped, took hold of her shoulder, and with an unhurried shift of force pinned Bo Suiqing effortlessly against the van’s door.

She looked down, her cool, unrippled black eyes meeting Bo Suiqing’s faintly trembling, beautiful ones.

            

“Bo Suiqing, this is Provincial Road 307. Less than ten minutes from the Bo family’s old villa.

“Whenever you like, one phone call, and the people there would appear at once and take you home properly.”

And yet Bo Suiqing had still called her — made her drive clear across the city to get here.

            

“Is toying with me really that much fun?”

“…”

Her shoulder was held fast in Xu Jialuo’s grip; through a thin layer of fabric, calloused fingertips pressed against the skin.

            

Not much force, yet it felt scalding.

Bo Suiqing’s eyes widened; she felt Xu Jialuo’s hand withdraw, the scalding warmth gone.

And in the instant Xu Jialuo turned away, it was like plunging into an abyss of ice.

            

She’d ruined it.

Again.

The muffled thunder spread from far off to near.

            

Moonlight was blotted out by the clouds entirely.

Bo Suiqing shot out a hand and seized Xu Jialuo’s sleeve.

“I’m not… toying with you.”

            

Her voice shook a little, hesitant, unsure what to say. “It’s because…”

Bo Suiqing raised her head — and met Xu Jialuo’s nape.

Perhaps because she’d rushed over, her track jacket wasn’t zipped all the way up.

            

The collar of the athletic tee beneath sat low, baring a stretch of cold-pale skin at the back of her neck.

A barrier patch — a long rectangle of adhesive — covered most of the nape.

But not all of it.

            

Along the patch’s edge, a glaring old scar trailed downward.

Bo Suiqing’s pupils quivered.

…How much must a wound straight across the gland have hurt?

            

In the times she didn’t know of. In the years she’d been absent.

How much pain had Xu Jialuo been in, back then?

Her throat seized. Every carefully packaged lie dissolved to nothing.

            

The heart she always kept wrapped was torn open along a crack like a scar.

Bo Suiqing said: “…I wanted to see you.”

The motion of shaking her off and walking on stopped dead.

            

She heard Bo Suiqing repeat it, low, voice trembling: “Because… I wanted to see you.”

---

One minute later, the black Bentley drove away with its passenger.

From the bushes not far off, the driver rose to her feet, brushed the dust and grass clippings from her clothes, and jogged back to drive the business van away.

            

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