Chapter 40: Sweating buckets, huh? Hagiru
Lunch was sumptuous—meats, veggies, and soup to boot.
Though as a rich second-gen, Lu Qingqi didn’t fancy daily abalone, lobster, or fancy seafood.
To her, those were just for showboating; she preferred simple, unpretentious home cooking.
The flavors hit just right, perfectly suiting her palate.
The only puzzle was—after studying all morning with future self in the room, how’d the meal appear on the table upon emerging?
Who cooked it?
But on second thought, since future self had become a god, whipping up a table spread was child’s play—word-made-law, ingredients washing themselves before leaping into the pot, or straight-up conjuring a feast.
Yet, amid her hearty devouring, Lu Qingqi missed the exchange unfolding beyond her sight—between the man and woman seated across from her.
“The original Qiqi’s adorable~ Short and sweet, pure essence—just a bit flat-chested.”
The deep-purple-eyed man eyed the black-long-haired girl in her oversized men’s shirt, reminiscence flickering in his gaze.
“Tch, after all these years, the mega-boob fetishist can’t tweak his tastes?”
The white-haired blue-eyed girl chewed the morsel he’d clamped for her, lips pursing in gripe.
“I did tweak—over the years, added a milk fetish too.”
“Qiqi’s milk’s top-notch~”
“You jerk!”
“Still proud of it?”
“You treat milk like water; I’m your wife—not your dairy cow!”
“You’re my pet canary.”
“……”
The two bantered idly—teasing one moment, reminiscing mishaps the next—pink, ambiguous vibes quietly blooming at the table’s corner.
Suddenly, Lu Qingqi—mid-scarf—jerked her head up, dark eyes locking straight onto the white-haired blue-eyed girl, half a mouthful of rice still stuffed in.
“Right!”
“Future me—got a question: in the future, do I get married?”
The words dropped; the white-haired blue-eyed girl’s chopsticks froze midair, greens nearly tumbling off.
The man beside her—his indulgent air chilling abruptly—his gaze on her back heavy as lead, thudding her heart, breath catching, words dying unspoken.
But Lu Qingqi missed the shift; seeing no reply, her curiosity only flared, leaning forward, questions tumbling.
“Got a wife? Kids?”
“Or…… a harem maybe?”
Excitement built as she gestured wildly, then—slapping her forehead like a sudden recall—her expression sobered sharply.
“Oh right! One big thing—did Bai Yuanzhen cuck me or not?”
“You’re future me—you know the truth; spill it!”
At “Bai Yuanzhen,” the white-haired blue-eyed girl’s face blanched several shades, inwardly near-screaming.
My dear ancestor!
Shut it, please!!
She knew this bad man’s temperament too well—courtesy of his elders’ “fine upbringing” and “model precedents.”
No moral compass to speak of; to claim her, he’d schemed from cradle to grave, reshaping her orientations.
And what he loathed most, tabooed deepest: any mention of “Lu Qingqi likes girls.”
Now Lu Qingqi wasn’t just probing marriage—she’d named Bai Yuanzhen, stomping straight into his minefield; if he snapped, fallout unimaginable.
“Ahem, can’t say, can’t say—if I tell you now, won’t the future go haywire?”
“Eat up, eat up—have more; eat plenty, grow tall.”
The white-haired blue-eyed girl diverted frantically, chopsticks flying veggies into Lu Qingqi’s bowl—piling it into a mini-mound in seconds.
Then, she leaned sideways into the man’s shoulder, voice turning syrupy, deliberately coy and wheedling.
“Honey, don’t be mad~ Past me’s clueless; current me’s super good—mwah~ mwah~ Your obedient little canary~”
The man’s fingertips massaged her hair lightly; silent assent—no pursuit.
Lu Qingqi, oblivious, took the zeal at face value, shoveling rice while probing further.
“Why don’t my abilities work on Liu Wangjiang?”
The white-haired blue-eyed girl flicked a quick glance at the man, mumbling vaguely.
“He’s got a special constitution—innate resistance to yours; don’t sweat it, drink your soup.”
Special constitution?
Like the anti-magic physiques in novels?
Lu Qingqi’s inner chuunibyou novel buff fanned wild imaginings.
“So I can’t prank him with my powers?”
“You can, but it costs extra—I’ll explain later.”
“For now, eat properly—table rule: no talk while eating, no chat in bed.”
At this, Lu Qingqi indeed quieted, obediently polishing her bowl—then volunteering to wash up.
She scooped the plates toward the kitchen, black locks swaying youthfully lithe.
The white-haired blue-eyed girl had just exhaled when a warm hand circled her lower back; the man’s breath ghosted her ear from behind, teasing.
“So scared she’ll rile me up?”
“Qiqi—in your eyes, is my tolerance that petty?”
“Back then, you did me so wrong—I didn’t rage; still doted on you.”
“True—your ‘forgiveness’ was ‘thorough’.”
The girl rolled her eyes, tone dripping sarcasm.
“Master’s pardon turns this canary into a cream puff—womb and all, your cum-dump.”
The man chuckled low; his gaze pierced the wall, as if beholding the black-haired girl sudsing dishes in the kitchen—eyes profound.
Spotting his look, the white-haired blue-eyed girl ventured.
“Did you cast [Cognitive Barrier] on past me’s gender perception?”
“How’d you guess?”
“Simple—past me’s not used to girl mode yet; she’d only swap for novelty, not linger female.”
“Were it not for [Cognitive Barrier] suppressing switch-back urges, she’d have boyed up ages ago.”
“Sharp as ever—my Qiqi.”
“I did use [Cognitive Barrier]; after all…… girl Qiqi’s easier on the eyes than boy Qiqi.”
“And hornier to bend over, right?”
The girl exposed him without mercy.
“You old perv.”
“All day scheming smut—world’s so vast, yet you cage me in this hood, plush toy for you.”
“I warn you—no funny business.”
“Past me’s not fallen yet—if at all, it’s that timeline’s.”
“Timelines can’t jumble.”
“Only this way keeps you leashed, no?”
The man didn’t refute, replying meaningfully; he dipped to kiss her forehead, voice softening.
“Qiqi, I’ve an idea.”
“Spit it—long as it’s not too wild or freaky, I’ll bite.”
The girl huffed, a smug edge.
“After all, in the TS girls’ tea chat—no one babies hubby like me.”
“Marry me? You hit the jackpot.”
“You know, chat’s Su-jie now spins her wretched pupil like a top.”
“Right, right—meeting Qiqi’s my eight-lives’ blessing.”
The man humored her, then pivoted.
“I wanna see past you in black stockings.”
“Sure—I’ll have her don ’em later; say it speeds learning.”
The girl agreed outright, thoughtless.
“Not done.”
The man’s voice held mirth.
“I want her in black stockings—for a thigh job on me.”
“Impossible!”
Future Lu Qingqi rejected flat-out, tone ironclad.
The man didn’t press—clearly low expectations, just paving for the follow-up.
“Fine—alternate demand: I appear before you—let her see me.”
“Right—and flirt with you in her face.”
“I want……”
He nipped her earlobe, breath teasing, hot puff.
“To cuck you in front of hubby~~”