Lu Qingxue returned from Qian Shan’s place in the early hours of the morning.
The villa’s living room blazed with light, but through the glass, the glaring illumination revealed a cold, empty atmosphere inside.
Only the lamps tirelessly conjured the liveliness the night seemed to crave.
The person who had turned on the lights lay asleep on the sofa.
In the profound silence, Yun Chun still wore that nightgown, which barely covered her thighs. The freshly laundered fabric gave off a faint floral scent, and under its gentle influence, her sleeping face looked serene and peaceful.
Lu Qingxue stepped through the glass door to the sofa, drawing back her cold aura that resembled a pale moon. She called softly, “Little Darling?”
She had no intention of waking Yun Chun; she only wanted to check if her sleep was deep enough that lifting her wouldn’t disturb it.
But to her surprise, even her deliberately hushed voice roused Yun Chun.
Yun Chun’s brows furrowed slightly. She hadn’t been sleeping soundly, having dozed off while waiting. A taut thread lingered in her mind, and at the faintest sound, it pulled tight, urging her awake—the person she had been waiting for had returned.
Her eyes fluttered open in drowsy confusion, and upon seeing Lu Qingxue, Yun Chun instinctively spread her arms.
Lu Qingxue leaned down, letting Yun Chun embrace her.
A wordless harmony of understanding and indulgence flowed between them.
“Why fall asleep here?”
As she spoke, Lu Qingxue slid her arms beneath Yun Chun’s knees and back, scooping her up in a princess carry and gliding toward the bedroom.
Yun Chun clung tightly to Lu Qingxue’s neck, burying her face in the crook of her neck. Still half-asleep, she nuzzled Lu Qingxue’s shoulder like a kitten and yawned against it. “Waiting for you.”
She added, “But work was so exhausting today. I nodded off without meaning to.”
Lu Qingxue let out a soft chuckle. “Waiting for me? Did you even know when I’d be back?”
“That’s exactly why I had to wait,” Yun Chun murmured, fighting her drowsiness. “You’d come back anyway.”
A ripple of emotion stirred in Lu Qingxue’s eyes, and at last, she gave a gentle hum of agreement.
Yun Chun lifted her gaze at the sound, taking in Lu Qingxue’s sharp jawline. She thought Lu Qingxue resembled a pear blossom—pure white and immaculate, breathtakingly beautiful.
With the notion fresh in her mind, she blinked and said, “Sister Qingxue, you’re so beautiful.”
Lu Qingxue, who had already reached the bedside while cradling her, wasn’t sure what prompted the remark. She merely smiled in silence, lowering Yun Chun onto the bed. “You’re beautiful too, my beautiful Little Darling.”
She drew the nearby blanket over Yun Chun. “Now go back to sleep. I’ll wake you tomorrow.”
Yun Chun’s arms remained looped around Lu Qingxue’s neck. She shook her head. “I have something to tell you.”
She sat up on her knees at the edge of the bed, right in front of Lu Qingxue. First, she released Lu Qingxue’s neck, only to wrap her arms around her waist the next instant, pressing her head firmly against Lu Qingxue’s body. “Zhu You came to see me today.”
Lu Qingxue had been about to urge her to sleep, suggesting they talk tomorrow, but Zhu You’s name made her hand pause as it stroked Yun Chun’s head. In a gentle voice, she asked, “What did Little You want?”
“She interviewed me.”
Yun Chun spoke slowly. “And told me how the two of you met.”
“Mm. And then?”
“I think she’s incredible.”
“How so?”
“…”
No answer came.
A few seconds passed.
“Little Darling…?” Lu Qingxue heard the sound of crying.
Yun Chun buried her face desperately into Lu Qingxue’s body, mortified at the prospect of being heard, but to no avail—she could hear her own sobs herself, so Lu Qingxue certainly could too. It was over; Lu Qingxue would tease her for being a crybaby again.
But she simply couldn’t help it.
She had already shed tears once, right after the audio ended—thanking Zhu You and replaying it more than ten times.
She had told herself that was enough; no more crying upon seeing Lu Qingxue. Yet Lu Qingxue’s embrace felt so warm, and her voice matched the tenderness of those final two seconds in the recording, when she had called out Yun Chun’s name. She truly couldn’t hold back.
She admired Zhu You for harboring such feelings for Lu Qingxue all that time, with nothing but her bare hands.
How could she not marvel that, so long ago, Lu Qingxue had loved her in that same empty desolation—like the wind stripping a pear tree bare, scattering petals like snow across the ground.
Lu Qingxue slipped her hand between them, pinching Yun Chun’s cheek. “What are you crying for?”
Lu Qingxue’s touch was cool against Yun Chun’s tear-flushed skin, making her shiver from the chill.
Her sobs abruptly stopped. Yun Chun didn’t cry easily; her emotions had simply overwhelmed her in that moment.
In a hoarse whisper, Yun Chun said, “Even after you rejected her, she could go on loving you for so long. And I didn’t even know you loved me, yet you still…”
Her words cut off suddenly.
Lu Qingxue pressed, “Still what?”
The figure in her arms fell silent, her crying ceased, leaving only the soft, damp breaths of aftermath, warm against Lu Qingxue’s skin.
Lu Qingxue grasped Yun Chun’s shoulders, easing her back to meet her reddened eyes. With a curved smile, she finished, “Still love you that much?”
“…”
Their gazes locked.
Tears blurred Yun Chun’s vision slightly, but the light was bright enough to make out Lu Qingxue’s features clearly.
Even Lu Qingxue’s slender frame seemed veiled in mist through the sheen of those tears, ethereal and enigmatic.
Yun Chun had always felt she could never truly hold onto Lu Qingxue, and in this moment, the sensation intensified. Battling the ache and unease squeezing her heart, she lifted the arms that Lu Qingxue had pushed away and clutched tightly at her clothes.
A long white dress adorned with butterfly prints.
She gripped one of the butterflies on the fabric as if seizing hold of Lu Qingxue herself.
Her reddened eyes burned with resolve, though her rapidly fluttering lashes betrayed her shyness. She declared, “You love me.”
She had listened to that final line in the audio countless times, confirming Lu Qingxue’s feelings for her over and over.
Shadows deepened in Lu Qingxue’s eyes. She didn’t brush it off this time. Instead, her lips curved upward. “Yes, Little Darling. I love you.”
Very much.
You’ve finally realized it.
And I’ve finally said it aloud.
Yun Chun blinked, her lips pressing into a smile—though downturned at the corners, tinged more with melancholy than joy.
Lu Qingxue pulled a tissue from nearby, wrapping it around her fingertip to dab gently at the corners of Yun Chun’s eyes. Soon it grew damp, and she twisted it before saying to Yun Chun, “No more crying.”
As she wiped away the tears, she soothed her. “You’ve never loved anyone else, so you don’t understand. Love has no limits. It’s not about who loves longer or harder—that’s not what makes it impressive. The feeling itself is indelible. Over the long years, it may fade, but it never vanishes entirely. And the moment you love someone, it weaves into your life, just like…”
Lu Qingxue balled up the tissue in her fist, then poked Yun Chun’s nose with her index finger. “Just like air. Mm?”
Yun Chun murmured agreement, but her mood remained low, clearly unsoothed by the words.
Lu Qingxue considered for a moment and pinpointed the issue. She tossed the tissue into the trash bin, cupped Yun Chun’s face in her hands, and forced their eyes to meet, not allowing her to look away.
The instant their gazes aligned again, Lu Qingxue caught Yun Chun’s flicker of guilt as her eyes darted aside. She let out a soft laugh and spoke deliberately. “True love doesn’t tally up the time spent loving. It never throws that time in the other’s face, burdening them.”
She continued, “So how long I’ve loved you is my business. Don’t feel sorry for me or blame yourself inside.”
Yun Chun parted her lips but found no words. Lu Qingxue had guessed right again—she had been chastising herself for not noticing sooner, cursing that feverish day when she’d missed Lu Qingxue entirely. Even if she hadn’t loved her then, even if meeting wouldn’t have changed anything, she still wished they could have crossed paths while Lu Qingxue was alive.
She had many such regrets—not just this one. Missed chances, unfulfilled longings, endings that faded without fanfare. Her tears stemmed from all that.
Such tangled emotions wouldn’t dissolve in an instant, but Lu Qingxue’s words eased the knot in Yun Chun’s chest somewhat.
She leaned her face against Lu Qingxue once more, murmuring stubbornly, “I’m not blaming myself.”
“Really?”
“Mm.”
“Then why the tears?”
A touch of self-reproach, and so much… “Emotion.”
Lu Qingxue glanced down at the one in her arms. When had Yun Chun become so clingy? Barely two sentences in, and she was glued to her again. For a moment, she wasn’t sure whether to feel delighted or… delighted.
The corners of Lu Qingxue’s eyes crinkled as she allowed the embrace to linger. Then she said, “We’ve said what needed saying. Time for bed?”
Yun Chun pulled back from the embrace. Lu Qingxue watched as she let go, her own tension melting away—from kneeling to sitting, head bowed, mumbling, “No. There’s one very important thing I haven’t said.”
Lu Qingxue raised a brow. “No rush. You can say it after you’ve slept.”
At that, Yun Chun scooted back on the bed, patting the spot beside her. “Then get in. Let’s sleep together.”
“You know I love you, and you still want me to sleep with you?” Lu Qingxue teased lightly. “Little Darling, do you think I’m that upright?”
Yun Chun flushed. “We’ve done everything we’re supposed to. What do I have to fear from you?”
Lu Qingxue eyed her, deliberately prodding. “Seems like there’s one thing we haven’t done.”
“…” Yun Chun caught on instantly. Her curled fingers dug into her palm as she whispered, “You couldn’t possibly force me, right?”
“Of course I won’t. So what I mean is, don’t say everything outright, and don’t think of people who have feelings for you as too perfect.”
Lu Qingxue stopped teasing and spoke to Yun Chun with utmost seriousness. “Even with me, you should keep your guard up.”
With that, Lu Qingxue gazed at Yun Chun and softly said, “Go to sleep.” She then turned to leave the room, intending to give Yun Chun some time alone.
But the moment she turned, her dress was grabbed from behind, followed immediately by a faint murmur, thin as a mosquito’s hum.
The voice was so soft that an ordinary person might truly have missed it.
But Lu Qingxue heard it.
She turned in surprise. “What?”
Yun Chun’s hand tightened on Lu Qingxue’s clothes. Her lowered eyelashes trembled violently, as if she herself felt embarrassed by what she had said. Her lips parted slightly, and she murmured:
“We can do it…”
After a moment with no response from Lu Qingxue, Yun Chun assumed her voice had been too quiet and raised it a little. “I said, we can do it.”
But as she lifted her head and met Lu Qingxue’s eyes in that instant, Yun Chun’s body went rigid.
The expression in Lu Qingxue’s eyes held no excitement or delight—only a rare seriousness laced with anger.
Her delicate brows furrowed. Lu Qingxue spoke coldly. “Don’t say such things lightly.”
With a flick of her sleeve, Lu Qingxue brushed Yun Chun’s hand away. “I already told you earlier, you—”
“I’m not saying it lightly!” Yun Chun interrupted her.
Barefoot on the floor, she met Lu Qingxue’s gaze squarely. “I mean it.”
She continued, “The words I wanted to say to you—I couldn’t wait until morning. Only by saying them now will you believe I’m not joking.”
Yun Chun pursed her lips. “You said I only flirt and never take responsibility. But now, my answer to you is…”
She stepped forward and swiftly pecked the corner of Lu Qingxue’s mouth. As her heart pounded wildly, she turned her eyes to Lu Qingxue and said softly, “I will take responsibility for you.”
