Chapter 42

Speaking of which, Wen Zhixu wasn’t exactly a novice at this sort of thing, though she wasn’t very good at it.

The scorching breaths in the room raised the temperature a bit, and the ambiguous sounds were on the verge of spiraling out of control. After Jian Shichu said those words, Wen Zhixu pondered for a moment before naturally compromising.

Who wouldn’t like sincerity? It felt like she’d gotten the better end of the deal— as serious as she’d been washing up earlier, she was that diligent now.

She wanted to learn from her opponent, proceeding step by step. Light, tentative kisses landed below her ear as she adjusted the pressure based on Jian Shichu’s breathing.

But Jian Shichu wasn’t one to stay put. She tugged at Wen Zhixu’s hair toward her earlobe, her fingers tracing circles on the small of her back.

Of course, after this round of maneuvers, Wen Zhixu didn’t even reach the key steps, letting the other woman take full advantage.

Wen Zhixu lightly gripped her wrist, her eyes reddened at the corners, stubborn yet suppressing a hint of panic. “Can you stop moving around?”

Jian Shichu looked at her and suddenly burst out laughing. “I’m cooperating with you. You were like this last night too.”

“I was not.” Wen Zhixu let go of her hand. The air still carried a faint medicinal scent. Though Jian Shichu had showered while she washed up, the smell lingered.

Jian Shichu wrapped her arm around Wen Zhixu’s waist and tilted her head up for a kiss. The soft lips pressed against hers, igniting something assertive.

Wen Zhixu froze for a moment, completely unprepared. A faint sweetness slipped through the seam into her mouth. The next second, a chill hit her collarbone with a sharp sting, making her gasp in pain.

“Why’d you bite me?” Wen Zhixu looked at her, not angry—it only hurt for an instant.

Jian Shichu raised a brow. “Demonstrating for you. That’s exactly what you did last night.”

Wen Zhixu’s mind flashed with images. Her face flushed as she averted her gaze. She was always stubborn, no exception even in bed.

She shot back defiantly, “I don’t remember. Anyway, behave yourself and stop moving.”

Jian Shichu smiled. “You continue.”

The mood didn’t cool after the interruption. Wen Zhixu lowered her eyes to look at her, her hand shifting to the side to avoid pressing on Jian Shichu’s hair.

She was very careful as she leaned in. The faint glow seeped in from the edge of the curtains, and her gaze unconsciously grew focused.

When Wen Zhixu pressed close, there was a response. The scorching breath gradually eroded her reason, so she shifted from active to passive in a seamless, logical process.

As their body temperatures rose, Jian Shichu hugged her waist and switched positions. Wen Zhixu was kissed breathless, her heartbeat accelerating along with it.

“I’ll teach you the counter.” Jian Shichu whispered softly.

Wen Zhixu started to say something but was teased into submission. She forced out, “Has your wound healed?”

Jian Shichu smiled, her words brushing slowly over her earlobe. “The rest is the same.”

Wen Zhixu swallowed her remaining words. She knew what Jian Shichu meant—the subtlety made her too embarrassed to lift her head, her palms growing sweaty.

By the time they were done fooling around, night had fallen completely.

Wen Zhixu came out after her shower. The takeout Jian Shichu ordered had just arrived, and she was standing by the table unpacking the bags. Wen Zhixu’s legs felt weak and sore; she let out a soft pant as she sat down.

Her freshly blow-dried hair stuck slightly to her forehead. Jian Shichu had a new bandage on her wrist. She wiped her hands clean and went to the counter to pour water.

Hearing that soft sigh, Jian Shichu smiled and asked, “What’s wrong? Not feeling well somewhere?”

“Starting tomorrow, let’s not see each other for a few days.” Wen Zhixu took the water Jian Shichu handed her and downed it all in one go, sounding like she was sulking.

Jian Shichu handed her chopsticks with a smile but didn’t reply. She nodded toward a row of white medicine bottles on the cabinet with her chin. “What medicine is that?”

Wen Zhixu glanced over indifferently, then tucked her knee under the table and picked up some food. “For treating insomnia.”

The bottles were ones Wen Zhixu had rebought at the boutique store. She didn’t like the original packaging, and since she suffered from chronic insomnia, she relied on meds to sleep.

“Why insomnia?” Jian Shichu leaned forward to pull out the chair behind her, but the drawstring from her clothes fell into the bowl.

“Can’t sleep when I can’t write.” Wen Zhixu brushed it off like that, and it sounded reasonable—no flaws, no loopholes.

Jian Shichu gave her a look, set down her chopsticks, straightened up, and raised her arms high to pull off her hoodie, her hair crackling with static.

“I’ll take you somewhere later.”

Wen Zhixu turned to look at her. “Where?”

Jian Shichu was wearing a white inner layer underneath. The hair tie on her wrist snapped onto her hair, making the bruises on her arm stand out. After tying it up, she turned back to the table. “Eat first.”

Wen Zhixu didn’t ask more and picked some food into Jian Shichu’s bowl.

—

The lights on Qiansimen Grand Bridge went out at ten. Across from it was Hongyadong. This was the first day Wen Zhixu had driven for Jian Shichu, and they’d come here. The bridge spanning the banks felt like it separated two different worlds.

Back then, she’d thought that one day, when night fell, she’d come here for a look. Not for anything else, just to fill the regret from five years ago.

She’d passed by many times lately but never gotten out of the car, just glancing from afar.

She’d seen a line online: Chongqing’s romance is half the river, half the person watching it with you. How beautiful. But that year, she’d been the one to shatter it.

Jian Shichu pulled her aside to avoid the rocks. At this hour, lots of people were here taking photos and checking in.

They stopped at the edge. A gust of wind brought autumn chill. Jian Shichu had never brought up the matter from five years ago—until now, it felt like they could finally sit down and talk it through slowly.

Wen Zhixu gazed at the bridge lights and said softly, “That bridge is strange. Romantic for two people, regretful for one.”

Jian Shichu followed her gaze. The description fit perfectly; she always felt a sense of loss looking at it from afar.

Like fireflies lighting a path through a nighttime forest suddenly winking out, leaving the surroundings dim, the faint moonlight unable to illuminate the road ahead.

“How romantic can it get?” Jian Shichu asked with a smile, turning to study the expression on Wen Zhixu’s face. Her hair looked especially soft in the light.

Wen Zhixu thought for a moment. “How about ’till death do us part’?”

“You’re good at metaphors.” Jian Shichu said.

“Have you dated anyone after?” Wen Zhixu propped her chin on her hand, looking at her.

Jian Shichu quipped back quickly, “Yeah, tons. More than I can count on two hands.”

Wen Zhixu jiggled her knee slightly and shot her a sideways glance. “Me too. A whole pile.”

They both knew the other was lying, but they played along anyway, bantering without getting bored. After a bit, they dropped the topic.

Jian Shichu said, “These past few years, I’ve been to a lot of places. I thought I’d let go of these five years, but later I realized my obsession wasn’t about showing you the landscapes.”

“Do you remember five years ago, when you asked me why, out of so many people at school, I only liked you?”

Wen Zhixu had indeed asked that. She’d always found it strange—ever since they met, Jian Shichu seemed to know her inside out, always brushing off the question with a laugh.

Wen Zhixu’s gaze slowly moved from the river to her face. “I still haven’t figured it out even now.”

“Then I’ll answer you now. I knew you before you knew me. And I liked you first.”

Wen Zhixu’s heart sank as she listened. She looked out at the river, where the lights curved on the water. After a long pause, she replied, “‘Of course I love you. It was my fault for not making you feel it,’ the rose said when the Little Prince left.

“I remember, you used to need an eye mask to sleep, even with the curtains closed—no light at all. Now, without light, you have nightmares. I was the one who suggested breaking up. I was sad too, but I did it anyway.”

As Wen Zhixu spoke, recalling these memories, her heart raced, no matter how much time had passed.

She was the one who’d pushed her away, the one who’d later confessed to missing her, and eventually, she really had become like the mentally ill character in some book.

Jian Shichu watched her. A gentle breeze blew, sending tears streaming down her eyes, reddening even her brow tips. She gently wiped Wen Zhixu’s tears with her fingertip.

“That day, I didn’t want to let go either. But I knew there was no future that way. So later, I went to your book signing. Standing in the distance, I realized I hadn’t forgotten you at all.” Jian Shichu slowly wiped her tears, her heart aching.

The night she first saw Wen Zhixu again, she’d been sleepless too, with so much to say but no way to start.

“From now on, whatever you have to say, tell me. I’ll listen properly. I’m just afraid—afraid you’ll get tired someday.” Jian Shichu had all the answers in her heart now, but she still hadn’t told Wen Zhixu.

When she met Wu Yang, his final words had made everything clear.

That day, after standing by the table, she sat back down.

Her first words were, “So you knew I wasn’t Wen Zhixu, and you said it on purpose?”

Wu Yang glanced outside, his gaze landing squarely on Wen Zhixu. “Auntie Wen said if it was you, she’d tell you this: She won’t allow Miss Wen to become a lesbian.”

“Why you?” What Jian Shichu was really asking was, why him to relay this message.

Wu Yang replied nonchalantly, “Our two families are close. The blind date you saw could actually be an engagement. My mom watched Miss Wen grow up. You don’t know her family situation—Aunt Wen said she doesn’t want to approach you proactively. She accepts the sexual orientation cognitive disorder, which means she’s not a homosexual. Forcibly bending her with an impure purpose like that… I’ve looked into it. I heard your mom is a director—exposing this kind of thing wouldn’t be good for you.”

“Which thing?” Jian Shichu shot him a glance and chuckled lightly.

“What I just said. Miss Wen was bent by you. In those orientation circles, that kind of thing gets you cursed.”

“Expose it then. Go ahead—the sooner the better.” Jian Shichu couldn’t care less. “I don’t mind at all. Do whatever you want.”

The conversation wasn’t pleasant. From that moment, Jian Shichu probably understood the reason for their breakup back then. Since Wen Zhixu wouldn’t say anything, she wouldn’t ask.

Wu Yang seemed to know everything thoroughly. He was probably convinced that as long as Wen Zhixu was willing, both he and their parents would accept it no matter what.

Jian Shichu reached out and hugged her. “Don’t cry, or I’ll take a photo and set it as my profile picture.”

Wen Zhixu was amused by her. She bent her index finger and wiped away her tears.

Hearing her laugh, Jian Shichu breathed a sigh of relief. Just then, the phone in her bag vibrated. She shifted her body slightly and pulled out the phone from her pocket. It was a message from Song Yi: The thing you wanted, I found it. I’ll send the address to you right away.