Chapter 47

She lowered her gaze slightly, remaining silent.

She let the pale, slender hand in her line of sight rise and fall.

Needle marks dotted its surface, along with white scars from prolonged pressure by some restraint. It wasn’t hard to guess where Bo Ranying had been before rushing over.

Nan Qi curbed her deeper thoughts.

Judging from Bo Ranying’s current state, her ability to hurry here meant her body was in no serious condition.

Yet she had still come to deliver the Suan Ye, even after Nan Qi had made it clear she didn’t want any. What exactly was going through Bo Ranying’s head?

Nan Qi didn’t understand, and she had no desire to delve into it.

Irritation bubbled up in her chest, her routine thrown into disarray.

She had made her decision: ignore Bo Ranying’s persistent overtures, rein in her emotions, stop asking about her, avoid meeting her, and gradually move on step by step.

She had been sticking to it faithfully, but Bo Ranying refused to play along.

What a terrible person.

Tang Lian watched the undercurrents surging between them with cold detachment, her mind turning over possibilities as she adopted a leisurely pose.

Bo Ranying’s earlier charge hadn’t been gentle. She had barreled in with unstoppable force, whipping up a fierce gust that forced a wedge between Tang Lian and Nan Qi’s intimate moment. In that brief clash, Tang Lian hadn’t missed the explosive fury blazing across Bo Ranying’s forehead—intense enough to chill the blood—though Bo Ranying herself seemed utterly oblivious.

It was the instinctive rage of someone seeing their prized possession eyed by a rival, coupled with unmistakable rejection of Tang Lian herself.

The Bo Ranying before her now felt like night and day compared to the one she’d glimpsed by chance at the bar a few days earlier.

The office fell into profound quiet, broken only by the rhythmic clinking of glass jars—a sound that somehow rang melodic and balanced. But Bo Ranying’s heart was far from calm.

Things had unfolded just as she’d hoped, interrupting Tang Lian and Nan Qi’s cozy exchange. Now the two of them behaved normally—no words exchanged, just subtle physical cues.

None of the three women spoke.

Yet Bo Ranying keenly sensed it: Tang Lian and Nan Qi had formed their own little world, shutting her out. Loneliness enveloped her like a thick fog.

She stood right between them, even closer to Nan Qi—their shoulders nearly brushing—but she felt no trace of welcoming warmth from her.

Instead, Nan Qi seemed bafflingly aloof about her sudden arrival.

No delight, no relief. Just an aura of piercing chill radiating from her.

This wasn’t the outcome Bo Ranying had envisioned.

Once, she had slipped effortlessly into Nan Qi’s world, forging a bond that nothing could sever. Now, all those privileges had shifted to Tang Lian.

The realization hit her like a gut punch, leaving her profoundly sad.

And furious. Tang Lian’s clinging to Nan Qi was beyond excessive. She’d invited her over for dinner and a sleepover just yesterday, and now here she was at Little Qi’s workplace, dressed to kill. Was she launching a full-on pursuit?

Bo Ranying’s chest tightened. She couldn’t bear the image of Nan Qi lavishing those once-exclusive favors on someone else.

“Little Qi.” Ignoring Tang Lian entirely, she inched closer to Nan Qi until their shoulders pressed fully together, fabrics mingling.

A faint curve touched her lips, savoring the rare contact.

But the joy was short-lived. Nan Qi jerked back a full step, putting half a person’s width between them.

As if deeply wary of the sudden closeness.

The reaction wounded Bo Ranying to her core. Faltering, she played her next card, unable to believe Nan Qi could be so resolute. She hadn’t done anything truly out of line.

The smile she’d just begun to form wilted before it could bloom.

“I portioned out the Suan Ye especially for you! I tried one earlier—it’s even tastier than before. Which flavor do you want? Plum or mango? Here, let me open one for you to try.”

Brushing off Nan Qi’s icy expression, Bo Ranying steered into casual chatter, hoping to stir up old memories.

Her hand rested on a jar, fingers poised to twist off the lid.

Nan Qi caught the hint at once and shook her head to stop her. “Ranran, I don’t want any.”

“You don’t want any…” Bo Ranying echoed softly. The starry sparkle in her lovely almond eyes faded to desolate emptiness, like stars snuffed out one by one.

The gloom lasted only a heartbeat. She rallied quickly, flashing Nan Qi a gentle smile that brought out her dimples. “That’s fine if not right now. You can keep one jar here at the office and two at home. Whenever the craving hits, it’ll be right there.”

“Oh, right—I still don’t know where you moved to. Why not make today the day? I could drop by and celebrate Little Qi’s housewarming.”

Bo Ranying pivoted to a subtler tactic.

She no longer cared about losing face in front of Tang Lian. After all, they all knew the truth: Nan Qi had a new place, crashing at Tang Lian’s, and Bo Ranying—supposedly her closest friend—had learned of it last. She didn’t even know the address.

Some best friend she was. Utterly unqualified.

For once, she showed real tenacity.

She fixed Nan Qi with a pure, inviting smile—sweet as could be, though it never reached her eyes. Beneath those sugary dimples lurked unmistakable bitterness.

Nan Qi couldn’t help frowning at the two back-to-back suggestions. She wanted no part of either.

With a soft sigh laced with helplessness and reassurance, she said, “Ranran, you know I was never big on Suan Ye. Just take it back.”

The sudden gentleness in Nan Qi’s voice threw Bo Ranying off balance, lighting her face with hope. She cut in eagerly: “If you liked it once before, why not again now?!”

Her gaze locked on Nan Qi as the words tumbled out.

Nan Qi stared back in stunned disbelief. Any lingering helplessness vanished, replaced by cool distance and depths of somber ink in her eyes.

She even found it a little amusing.

What gave Bo Ranying the nerve to say something like that so boldly?

Could feelings be switched on and off at will, controlled like a faucet?

If it were that easy, Nan Qi wouldn’t have held on so long. Or Bo Ranying would have accepted her confession from the start.

She turned her face away, unwilling to confront that once-innocent, radiant visage. She had no wish to prolong the conversation and delivered what amounted to a dismissal.

“If you’re not feeling well, get some rest. Don’t push yourself.”

Stay home after work. No more detours to find her.

Nan Qi’s intent to send her packing was crystal clear.

Bo Ranying swayed on her feet, frozen in shock.

She couldn’t accept that Nan Qi—having seen through her illness-fueled haste—remained so unyieldingly cold. It shattered her expectations.

She didn’t budge, so Nan Qi reached out to take the Suan Ye jars, ready to hand them back untouched.

Tang Lian had observed long enough to piece together Nan Qi and Bo Ranying’s dynamic.

Now was her moment to shine.

Nan Qi might have wrapped up her part, but Tang Lian’s performance was just beginning.

With effortless poise, she let out a charming smile tinged with triumph and mockery. She extended her soft hands, covering Nan Qi’s knuckled fingers and brushing them lightly to halt her motion.

The instant their skin met, Nan Qi’s heart lurched, a jolt of electricity racing through her.

She itched to yank her hand free, to rebuff the touch.

But a sidelong glance at Bo Ranying sparked a less-than-honorable idea.

What she once scorned now became a willing ploy.

She fought the impulse, holding steady without a tremor.

She forced herself to adjust to the tingling thrill as Tang Lian’s enchanting fingers trailed over the back of her hand.

“Then thanks for the kind gesture, Miss Bo~ I’d love to try this local treat myself. It’ll be perfect for our movie date with Nan Qi later.”

Tang Lian scooped up one of the jars.

Her tone dripped innocence, her face alight with perfectly measured delight.

She seemed genuinely thrilled by Bo Ranying’s gift.

Nan Qi went speechless on the spot. True, Tang Lian had floated the movie idea, but when had she ever agreed? In a dream?

She had to admire the woman’s gift for brazen fibs.

Nan Qi’s lack of protest looked like tacit approval in Bo Ranying’s eyes.

Her own eyes flew wide, a lump lodged in her throat as depression crashed over her in waves.

A movie date.

That had been Bo Ranying’s own planned olive branch for Nan Qi—still unused—and now Tang Lian had beaten her to it.

She’d arrived first, so why was someone else reaping the rewards?

She couldn’t rein in her emotions: a sour ache mingled with fury, squeezing the air from her lungs like a drowning struggle. She clung desperately to the nearest lifeline.

To her, Nan Qi was that salvation.

Shadows trembled beneath her eyelids, her fingertips paling as she demanded, nearly accusing, “You’re going to a movie with her?”

Bo Ranying’s eyes bored into her, her own sockets aching. She had no idea what her face looked like now.

Tang Lian’s arm reached out at just the right moment, looping around Nan Qi as she pressed her cheek into the crook of her arm—a clear declaration of intimacy.

Nan Qi didn’t pull away from her closeness.

Bo Ranying watched it all unfold, her pale fingertips curling tightly. Nan Qi’s attitude toward her, treating her like a total stranger, left her feeling particularly wretched.

Nan Qi glanced sidelong at Tang Lian, catching sight of her delighted smile, and returned a look that spoke volumes between them.

She nodded, offering Bo Ranying a firm affirmation.

“We’re just about to go watch a movie.”

Tang Lian feigned a touch of shyness and quickly chimed in, “Nan Qi doesn’t like crowded places, so we’re doing it at my house.”

Nan Qi took the hint and took Tang Lian’s hand. Tang Lian, in turn, picked up the Suan Ye that Bo Ranying had brought, and the two walked out arm in arm.

Their retreating figures looked for all the world like a couple deep in love.

The sight pierced Bo Ranying’s eyes in perfect harmony.

She gripped the edge of the table, mustering all her strength to steady her faltering body.

Only when those two backs had vanished completely from view did she slowly release her hold.

She walked out with measured steps, hailed a cab at the entrance to the complex, and climbed in once a familiar license plate came into sight. “Follow the car up ahead,” she instructed the driver.

The driver hesitated for a moment.

“That jerk owes me money and won’t pay up. I’m after my debt.”

She scowled fiercely, her gaze boring through the glass as if it could pierce straight into that car.

“That’s outrageous!”

Fueled by righteous indignation, the driver stomped on the gas and tailed Nan Qi’s car closely.

Bo Ranying reclined in the back seat, leaning against it in exhaustion.

She couldn’t say why, exactly.

Perhaps it was Tang Lian’s offhand remark about the private viewing at home that had set her off—she simply had to follow them.

A faint hope still flickered in her heart.

Maybe Nan Qi had only been stringing her along. Perhaps they hadn’t really made plans at all, and they’d part ways soon enough.