Why did the system take my request to take photos with a cosplayer seriously?

Lin Man closed her eyes and enjoyed it.

She usually takes care of Ding Heng, but this time, due to her health issues, it's rare for Ding Heng to take care of her.

"boss."

"Ok?"

"Have you been worried about me these past few days?"

Lin Man proceeded cautiously, tentatively probing in a soft voice.

Ding Heng's hands didn't stop moving: "Nonsense."

Lin Man pursed her lips, and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

She raised her hand and touched Ding Heng's thigh, gently stroking it.

"Boss, you have no idea. Those few days in Tibet, I was lying in bed, so afraid that if something happened to me, I wouldn't be able to serve you anymore..."

"You've only just recovered and you're already acting horny?"

Ding Heng raised his hand and slapped her again, this time with a bit more force than before.

"Snapped."

A crisp sound.

"Ouch~"

Lin Man let out a soft cry, covering the reddened spot with her hand, but her eyes became even more alluring.

"She wasn't being horny at all~ She was just telling the truth~"

Ding Heng was aroused by her seductive appearance, and pinched her cheek with one hand, making her lips pout.

"Well……"

Lin Man leaned back, letting out a muffled groan.

"Boss~ be gentle..."

Her voice was soft and seductive, and her affected crying only made Ding Heng want to do something more.

"What do you mean by 'light'?"

Ding Heng tightened his grip: "With your body, you shouldn't go to high altitudes in the future."

"They know already~"

Lin Man obediently responded, her tone sweet and cloying.

"boss."

"Ok?"

“It’s been almost half a month since you went to the capital.”

Lin Man continued to whine, "I wasn't feeling well during those few days in Tibet, so I couldn't serve the boss..."

Ding Heng reached out and gently patted the back of her head: "We'll talk about it tonight."

"Tonight? No way~"

Lin Man's status as a patient emboldened her considerably: "Yan hope and the others will be back tonight."

"Then what do you want?"

"They want to..."

Lin Man drew out her words, her fingers gently tracing patterns on Ding Heng's chest, sliding down to his lower abdomen, her fingertips hooking around Ding Heng's waistband, and then gently pulling him down.

Ding Heng suddenly grabbed her wrist and pushed her down onto the bed.

"you……"

Before he could finish speaking, the doorbell rang suddenly.

"Ding-dong—ding-dong—ding-dong—"

The urgent ringing broke the ambiguous atmosphere in the room.

Lin Man sat up again and straightened her disheveled collar.

"Didn't Yan hope and the others just leave? How come they're back so soon?"

"It shouldn't be them."

Ding Heng stood up and straightened his clothes: "This is Baima's own home, why ring the doorbell?"

He turned around, went downstairs to the entrance hall, and pressed the video intercom button.

The screen lit up, and the security guard's face appeared on the screen.

"Hello, homeowner. A lady says she's a relative of yours and wants to come in. See..."

Before the security guard could finish speaking, a face squeezed in front of the camera.

The woman, in her early forties, wore a dark red windbreaker with black sweatpants, hiking boots, a large backpack, and two bulging woven bags in her hands.

His skin was typical of the Tibetan plateau, with an unhealthy reddish-brown tinge on his cheeks, prominent cheekbones, and dry, chapped lips.

His eyes were quite large, but the corners of his eyes were covered with wrinkles, giving him a rough look that had been honed by the harshness of the high plateau.

"Hey Hey hey?"

She shouted at the camera, her voice shrill and grating, muttering in Tibetan.

Ding Heng asked in Chinese, "Who are you looking for?"

The woman paused for a moment, then switched to Mandarin with a heavy accent.

"I'm looking for Quzhen. Quzhen Lamu, do you know her?"

"Aunt Quzhen is not home."

Not home?

The woman leaned closer: "You're her maid, right? I'm her sister-in-law, Baima's aunt, Nima Cuomu. Let me in first."

aunt?

Is Baima's father's sister?

"Okay, please wait a moment."

Ding Heng signaled to the security guard to open the door, then picked up his phone and sent a message to Bai Ma.

[Ding Heng]: Baima, your aunt is here.

[White Horse is Not a Horse]: !?

[White Horse is Not a Horse]: I'll be right back, brother, don't pay any attention to her!

Ten minutes later, the security guard personally drove a shuttle bus to take Nyima Tsomu to the door, accompanied by a little girl of about eight years old.

The little girl had two braids, and although her face didn't have the typical high-altitude rosy complexion, her skin was still rough.

Ding Heng stepped forward and took the woven bag from Nima Tsomu's hand.

"I'll help you."

"Be careful! The cordyceps inside are very expensive! And there's yak meat too, don't crush it!"

Nima Tsomu kept giving her instructions, treating Ding Heng like a servant in the Baima family.

Ding Heng didn't mind and carried the woven bag into the kitchen.

Back in the living room, Nyima Tsomu had already sat down on the sofa, with the little girl standing obediently beside her legs.

She glanced around the living room and clicked her tongue twice in Tibetan.

"This house is really impressive."

She then asked Ding Heng, "How long have you been working for her? Why did they hire a male nanny like you?"

Ding Heng didn't answer, but calmly said, "Aunt Quzhen is out of town inspecting projects, and Baima is temporarily out. She'll probably be back later. Would you like some tea?"

"casual."

"Row."

Ding Heng poured her some tea and then handed the little girl some snacks.

He deliberately asked, "Are you really Aunt Baima?"

"Of course."

Nima Tsomu took an old photograph out of her bag and handed it to Ding Heng.

"look!"

Ding Heng took it.

The photo has yellowed and the edges are badly worn.

A large family, at least a dozen people, stood in front of a Tibetan-style house.

There was a young woman on the left side of the front row, holding a little girl who looked two or three years old in her arms.

The woman was a young Quzhen, her smile forced.

The little girl was dirty, her face smeared with ash, her cheeks were typical of high-altitude red, and her eyes were timid... It was Baima.

The mother and daughter look completely different now, especially Baima, who is now fair-skinned and delicate, and looks like a completely different person from the photos.

Indeed, money is the most nourishing thing for people.

Ding Heng handed the photo back: "Wait a little longer, Baima should be back soon."

As soon as he finished speaking, hurried footsteps came from the direction of the stairs below.

Pema rushed into the living room from the underground garage, his gaze falling on Nyima Tsomu, his expression serious.

She asked a question in Tibetan, and Nyima Tsomu replied in Tibetan; the two went back and forth.

Gradually, Baima's brows furrowed, and her tone became more aggressive.

Not to be outdone, Nima Tsomu gestured wildly with her hands and feet.