Chapter 36: “Partly Cloudy Turning to Light Rain” Part 3

Cui Qijin lay flat as a board, eyes closed. Sometimes she slept like a plant absorbing sunlight.

But Chi Buyu guessed she wasn’t asleep.

She lay on her side, hand tucked under her cheek, and softly called out, “Cui Muhuo?”

Cui Qijin heard it.

Not just that call.

But also Chi Buyu’s deliberately softened breathing, which still wasn’t all that quiet to her ears, carrying a bit of warmth as it brushed against her like the wind before a tropical storm.

“Mm?”

Cui Qijin could feel Chi Buyu watching her.

But she didn’t open her eyes.

“You—”

Chi Buyu seemed a little hesitant.

Cui Qijin swallowed, feeling an itch near her ear.

“Me what?”

Her voice was still hoarse, just like that morning—probably from too much cool night air the evening before.

Chi Buyu didn’t reply right away.

Silence fell, and then a puff of warm, moist breath blew against her ear—probably not on purpose.

Cui Qijin shouldn’t have opened her eyes.

But unconsciously, her eyelids fluttered up, and in the corner of her vision, she caught Chi Buyu right there, inches away.

Their foreheads nearly touching her ear.

Chi Buyu’s damp hair fluttered in the air-conditioned breeze, wet like feathers soaked in water, drifting into the air around her.

She thought Chi Buyu wouldn’t say anything more.

She parted her lips.

But just then, Chi Buyu parted her own soft, glistening lips first and spoke. “Why’d you ask me that today…?”

It was an especially tough question to answer.

Rain pattered outside.

Yet the lingering heat in Cui Qijin—the kind a mere breeze could stir up—hadn’t been quenched by the downpour.

She stayed silent for a long time.

Finally, she gave a very plain answer.

“I… saw it earlier.”

Chi Buyu let out an “oh.” Then came a rustling sound, and Cui Qijin thought she was rolling away.

But instead, Chi Buyu asked again,

“Saw what?”

“Someone else’s truth or dare game had this question.”

Cui Qijin wasn’t lying. She’d indeed glimpsed it while scrolling a webpage, and it had stuck in her mind, lying dormant until this very moment—like today—when it shattered at a single touch.

Chi Buyu fell quiet.

Meanwhile, Chen Wenran, farther off on the bed, seemed to mutter something suddenly. Cui Qijin didn’t catch it and thought she might be calling her, so she instinctively turned her head to look—

Their gazes locked.

Cui Qijin’s eyes were captured by Chi Buyu’s bright, intense stare, trapping her in place. She couldn’t look away. And over there, Chen Wenran went silent.

Chi Buyu, so close, kept watching her, as if whatever Chen Wenran said held no interest.

Her gaze was like the rain outside the window, like the steaming water in the hot spring pool. Two currents met and merged in the air, impossible to tell which was warm and which was cool.

The rain kept falling, a steady patter in her ears. Steam still rose from the hot spring pool, water rushing in with a constant splash.

Cui Qijin should have been the first to look away.

But everything had changed since that trip to Leshan. She couldn’t hold onto her old composure anymore, even if it had always been a fragile self-deception.

She turned her head.

She felt as if the hot spring water and the rain outside had both poured into her heart. Once it filled up, who knew what would happen.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?”

After a long while, Cui Qijin picked the most manageable question she could think of.

Chi Buyu didn’t speak.

She just gazed at her with eyes hazy from the steam, holding her in place for a long moment.

Then, abruptly, she called out,

“Cui Muhuo.”

In that instant, it felt like the water was about to overflow.

Even without another word from Chi Buyu, Cui Qijin could clearly read the confusion, hesitation, and uncertainty in her eyes.

Staring at each other alone was like a standoff, with time as the judge—meaning one of them would always lose.

Cui Qijin thought it would be her.

But Chi Buyu retreated first. She lowered her gaze, mumbled “Forget it,” shifted her face impulsively closer, and pressed her forehead against Cui Qijin’s with commanding insistence.

“Sleep first!”

The water that had seemed ready to brim over retreated dramatically, sinking below her lungs where she could just barely breathe. Nothing went as she’d expected.

Cui Qijin felt the warmth from their touching foreheads. Steam and Chi Buyu’s breath mingled, swirling wildly around her nose.

She didn’t speak for a long time.

The reassuring weight of that forehead against hers made her feel safe, even as her heart raced, even amid her confusion, even when she was this close to blurting it all out…

But under the combined spell of the rain and Chi Buyu, her awareness sank, and she drifted off into a hazy sleep.

Drowsiness must be contagious.

When she woke again, the rain had stopped, leaving only the dim hotel room lights glowing.

She saw Chi Buyu’s face right there, close enough to touch. Chi Buyu must have been having some dream—her nose scrunched up tight, clearly displeased with whatever was happening in it.

Cui Qijin wondered if Chi Buyu was dreaming of her, of this bad woman who’d ruined everything, tainting even her dreams. But then she thought, after all these years, she probably didn’t dream of her anymore. Chi Buyu had so many people around her who loved her deeply, each one devoted heart and soul. Why would she cling only to the memory of someone like her, who’d done her wrong?

By all logic, she shouldn’t remember her, shouldn’t dream of her.

But then Cui Qijin thought—

If only, amid all those bad memories, she could remember just a little of the good.

Humans really were the most selfish creatures.

Just as she felt powerless against love itself, she had no way to resolve this conflicting tangle of thoughts.

She mocked herself for the mess she was in.

Unable to resist, she reached out—

Gently smoothing the wrinkle on Chi Buyu’s nose tip, hoping she’d have only sweet dreams from here on.

Then she quietly withdrew her hand, still tingling from the touch, pushed herself up from the floor.

Her hair a tangled mess.

She shuffled over to the small tea table, rummaged in her coat pocket for the blank card she’d secretly bought while shopping the night before, sat down, and pondered seriously what to write.

Rain pattered softly, the room filled with even breathing.

She hunched slightly over it, agonizing before putting pen to paper, drafting it first in her phone’s notes app—

Chi Buyu, happy birthday.

…But even writing that much brought back the scene of picking out Chi Buyu’s birthday gift that day.

She never celebrated her own birthday.

So she lacked experience giving them to others. Even with Chen Wenran and Yu Chenxing, she’d always just let them choose and covered the bill herself.

As for SpongeBob Afraid of Water, they hadn’t even exchanged contacts before losing touch.

Making birthday gift shopping even harder for Cui Qijin.

She’d spent days hunting, couldn’t find anything right. It soured her mood, left her restless. She was impatient, hated unfinished business.

That day had perfect weather. Her back felt fine, so she went out.

Passing a night market street stall with sizzling oil, she bought two skewers of grilled squid, ate one—too salty, not great. She couldn’t bring herself to say it tasted amazing.

She passed True Heart Big Mango, went in, and meticulously picked over some mangos, knowing full well sending fruit for a birthday was ridiculous. She just pretended to browse.

At the record store, she browsed a bit, then her back started aching, so she leaned on the counter and calmly asked the Record Store Boss what album would suit an ESFP best.

People said ESFPs were emotional kids, forgetful dummies. Cui Qijin saw Chi Buyu as a naive heroine.

After hearing Chi Buyu say her MBTI was ESFP, Cui Qijin hadn’t forgotten. She’d rigorously searched social sites, and the first result said ESFPs and INTJs were the worst match—born opposites, letters completely reversed.

But that day—Cui Qijin bought the Midnights blue vinyl on the Record Store Boss’s recommendation, rushing out. Only on the long walk back from the Midpoint on Love Adrift Street did she realize, with embarrassing slowness, that she’d done exactly the kind of dumb thing Chi Buyu might do.

Later, on the high-speed train—Cui Qijin heard Chi Buyu say she’d wanted to be a female singer as a kid, even had a crush on Taylor. Her first thought was the album tucked secretly in her luggage. She quietly relaxed her clenched jaw, sure she hadn’t picked wrong.

Were they really that incompatible?

Cui Qijin didn’t know.

Suddenly, something kicked her leg.

She looked down. It was Chi Buyu, half-asleep and groggy, her Nezha head a total mess. She’d rolled over twice to Cui Qijin’s side and, in her sleep, kicked her leg.

Like proof.

Proof that they didn’t exactly get along peacefully.

Cui Qijin laughed out of nowhere.

She figured they must be incompatible, or why else would Chi Buyu roll meters across the warm floor in her dream just to nail that kick so precisely? And even that wasn’t enough.

She had to lift her foot and drape it comfortably over Cui Qijin’s outstretched leg. Then she let out a sleepy hum, murmuring something like dream talk.

Cui Qijin patiently lifted Chi Buyu’s foot off.

Chi Buyu draped it right back.

Cui Qijin carefully moved it away again.

Chi Buyu rolled around on the toasty floor again, then draped it back on, all warm and cozy.

Cui Qijin sighed, glancing at the pillow that felt miles away to her. She folded her coat into a makeshift one, gently lifted Chi Buyu’s head, slid it underneath, and lowered her with extra care.

Cui Qijin let Chi Buyu’s leg rest on her knee. She looked down at her empty draft, let out another faint sigh, and finally committed to the card:

【Chi Buyu, happy birthday.】

She capped the pen. The AC breeze dried the ink quickly, just like whatever was blowing away her hesitation.

She glanced at Chi Buyu’s leg on her knee, at the few stray hairs sticking up from her Nezha head, reached over and pressed them down. They sprang right back—like antennas Chi Buyu used to broadcast interference signals.

At that moment, Chi Buyu stirred slightly. The fine, soft strands of hair slipped swiftly through the gaps between her fingers. She curled her fingers back, feeling as though a dragonfly had just skimmed lightly overhead, then parted the wild tangle of locks.

In her heart, Cui Qijin confirmed it to herself over and over.

Finally, with utter calm, she picked up her pen once more. Freeing herself from the pain of hesitation, she added one more line:

【Once we’re back in Chengdu, let’s meet alone.】

Some things, she thought, she could no longer keep hidden from Chi Buyu.