Chapter 101: If This Is Love (2)

They stayed in Milan until Fashion Week drew to a close. Amid countless shadowy silhouettes from photographs, Tang Lian refined her original wedding gown design through several iterations, sketching out a preliminary form.

On their final night, back in the hotel room, Tang Lian was especially fervent.

She clung to Nan Qi like a vine desperately twining around a trellis, straining upward, ever upward.

The rising heat enveloped them both.

Throughout it all, Nan Qi held Tang Lian steady, afraid she might slip and fall.

She responded with equal passion.

Watching her girlfriend’s cheeks flush with color, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes as she sobbed in broken gasps—yet still pressing close, her voice hoarse as she begged for hugs—Nan Qi couldn’t hold back. She bullied her all the more fiercely.

Nan Qi gently caressed Tang Lian’s face, streaked with tears, murmuring in a low, entranced voice, “You sounded so good today.”

“Call me ‘sister’ one more time, okay?”

The girl in her arms trembled, her long lashes fluttering. She reached out to embrace Nan Qi and whispered “sister” softly by her ear. To Nan Qi, it was like tossing kindling onto a blaze, churning a pool of spring waters into turmoil.

Her ears burned in an instant.

Tang Lian didn’t pause. Her lips brushed Nan Qi’s ear, parting to envelop it before nipping lightly.

The pressure was feather-soft, like the brush of a kitten’s tail against skin.

Nan Qi felt only a slick, wet warmth.

In the next moment, her dazed expression twisted. Pain bloomed from her neck, spreading through her body.

Without warning, Tang Lian sank her teeth into Nan Qi’s neck—hard, unrelentingly hard—and refused to let go, imprinting deep teeth marks.

Nan Qi drew in a sharp breath, wrinkling her nose against the sting. A faint metallic tang of blood hung in the air; Tang Lian had broken the skin.

She reached up to push Tang Lian’s head away.

But Tang Lian was adamant, resisting every effort to dislodge her.

“Lianlian, it hurts,” she whispered faintly.

Tang Lian held on stubbornly a moment longer before finally relenting. Her lips glistened with a vivid red stain, carrying the rusty scent of blood.

The moment she released her hold, Nan Qi swiftly maneuvered Tang Lian to the edge of the bed and sat her down. Clutching the wound, she rose and stepped to the mirror, tilting her head to inspect the damage.

The skin was indeed torn, blood seeping steadily, surrounded by a ring of stark teeth marks. It looked rather alarming.

She turned back with a helpless shake of her head, half-scolding, half-bewildered. “Why’d you bite so hard? I’m not some tasty treat.” She studied the injury more closely. “Now I’ll probably need a shot and a tetanus booster.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“You’d better. Think you can run from this?”

Tang Lian sat obediently on the bed’s edge, watching quietly as Nan Qi phoned the front desk and requested iodine solution and cotton swabs to clean and disinfect the bite.

Then she stood, gently nudging Nan Qi toward a chair and seating her. Taking the supplies, she dipped a swab in the iodine and dabbed it on the wound, her expression full of concern. “Sister, let me disinfect it for you.”

Nan Qi shot her a sidelong glance, her tone far from gentle. “Now you decide to play the dutiful one?”

Tang Lian beamed back at her, placating. “It was my mistake. Let me make it up to you.”

Her words were apologetic, and her touch gentle, mindful not to cause pain.

Yet to Nan Qi, Tang Lian’s face betrayed no real remorse—quite the opposite. A proud glee shone through, as if she took delight in the mark she’d left.

It was an odd reaction.

The disinfection also gave Tang Lian a clear view of the wound.

She stared at the circle of teeth marks, her voice strangely intent. “This kind of mark… it should last a good long while, right?”

Nan Qi replied offhandedly, “I hope it heals quickly and doesn’t scar… Hey, wait—something about your tone makes it sound like you’d prefer it stuck around?” Midway through, she paused, surprised.

“You misheard me. I said it won’t last long,” Tang Lian insisted, head down as she tended the injury.

“But you clearly…”

With a soft clack, Tang Lian discarded the soiled swab, screwed the cap back onto the iodine bottle, and twisted it tight. The natural motion cut Nan Qi off.

“It’s getting late, and we’ve got an early flight tomorrow. Let’s sleep,” Tang Lian said calmly.

They showered together, then slipped into bed, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Nan Qi drew Tang Lian close against her chest.

In the darkness, Tang Lian’s ear pressed to Nan Qi’s heart.

The steady, rhythmic beat was like a soothing lullaby, its glowing notes drawing her into sweet dreams.

Some time later, half in a dream, she mumbled against Nan Qi’s chest, “Sister, what are your plans once we’re back?”

A few seconds passed before Nan Qi’s muffled voice came, fragmented with sleep.

Each word landed crystal-clear in Tang Lian’s ear.

“Head home… keep Ranran company… help her transfer hospitals.”

In her subconscious, the first person in Nan Qi’s future plans was Bo Ranying.

A chill gripped Tang Lian’s heart, banishing all drowsiness. Bitterness flooded her chest.

At this point, she could no longer fool herself into believing things would work out—that she’d claim an irreplaceable place in Nan Qi’s heart, supplanting Bo Ranying with time.

But in truth, Nan Qi had never fully let Bo Ranying go.

Tang Lian opened her eyes, gazing intently at the sleeping Nan Qi in the dim moonlight filtering through the window.

From her lustrous, soft hair to the sharp edge of her brows, her elegant nose, her lips like rippling water—lying there still as a statue, she was a vision of beauty.

Her fingers rose unbidden, hovering just millimeters away, tracing in the air the places she’d kissed before, places she still adored.

Nan Qi was still so stunning.

Just as breathtaking as the day they’d first met.

One glance, and Tang Lian had been utterly captivated, her heart thrown into chaos.

It had taken endless schemes for her to stand rightfully at Nan Qi’s side.

Recalling how she’d hounded her relentlessly—from strangers to friends to lovers—it was like a fizzy honey-gardenia soda: sweetly fragrant, cloyingly so, right down to the cavities.

But she was never fated to share that drink with Nan Qi.

Like a dazzling gem, radiant and exquisite, forever beyond the reach of ordinary folk.

She could possess it, but lacked the strength to hold it forever.

She stared, mesmerized, at the Nan Qi so close at hand, as if time itself had frozen. She truly hated to let go.

No more carefree embraces, no stolen kisses on empty midnight streets amid wind and snow, no leisurely teasing with naughty words while watching Nan Qi blush and lean in to hush her…

What she hated most to lose was that their bond had no fatal flaws.

Yet she knew, crystal clear, that she couldn’t go on.

Struggling would only lead to the same end.

Fat teardrops began to fall unnoticed, splashing onto her suspended hand—one, two, then a steady stream. In the silent night, the patter was unmistakable.

Tang Lian hastily cupped her palms to catch the unreasonable tears.

Even so, a few droplets splashed onto Nan Qi’s cheek, spreading into a thin sheen.

The faint sound hit Tang Lian’s ears like thunder.

With utmost care, she wiped away the errant tears from Nan Qi’s face and clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs.

She didn’t want Nan Qi to know she’d cried in the night.

That would be too pathetic.

She wanted to be the brave girl from the day they’d met.