Chapter 66

The rain outside was still falling, pattering against the eaves without a moment’s pause.

Meng Bai leaned a little closer toward Miao Bai. “Maybe it’s because it’s my first time sleeping in your bed, so I’m nervous.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about.” Miao Bai turned over, and now they were face-to-face.

In the darkness, Meng Bai couldn’t make out Miao Bai’s features clearly, only vaguely grasping the outline of her form.

“It’s a bit cold.” Meng Bai drew her feet in and scooted toward Miao Bai, only to find her body even chillier.

“That’s how autumn is.” Miao Bai tucked the blanket more snugly around her. “Give me a moment; I’ll warm myself up first.”

It was almost magical—Meng Bai could feel the heat building in Miao Bai’s body, radiating warmth bit by bit.

Just as Meng Bai was marveling at the wonder of it, Miao Bai reached out and drew her shoulders close. Meng Bai naturally melted into her embrace.

Up close, Miao Bai’s scent enveloped her completely, filling every breath and leaving Meng Bai’s head spinning. She nearly forgot what she’d been about to say.

Miao Bai’s voice murmured by her ear: “But it’s not even winter yet. How are you this cold?”

Meng Bai’s cheeks burned hot against her. “I’ve been like this since I was little.”

“And now? Any better?”

“So much better.” Meng Bai wrapped her arms around Miao Bai in return, holding her tight.

Neither of them spoke after that.

Meng Bai closed her eyes and let out a sudden sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“If there’s something, just say it.”

“It’s just… sometimes I get this dazed feeling, wondering if you really exist in this world.”

Miao Bai sounded puzzled. “Why ask that out of nowhere?”

“Because I see myself as such an ordinary person—too ordinary for anything miraculous to happen to me.” In the darkness, Meng Bai opened her eyes. “It’s kind of terrifying. Sometimes I worry you’re just a hallucination of mine, not actually real.”

Miao Bai chuckled softly. “Of course I exist in this world. I’m no fantasy. Zhou An and Xu Zhou have seen me too, haven’t they? Or are they imagining me as well?”

“But that feeling is so ethereal. You’re right here in front of me, but I can’t quite reach you or touch you.” Meng Bai frowned with unease. “How to put it… It’s like you belong in the heavens, and the mortal world holds no attachment for you. One day, you might just vanish.”

With that, Meng Bai gave an inexplicable little laugh. “Of course, you probably think I’m overthinking it.”

Miao Bai fell silent for a couple of seconds before replying: “You mean it doesn’t feel real, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m no different from you all. I breathe. I have a heartbeat.”

“Heartbeat.”

Meng Bai trailed off and burrowed deeper into Miao Bai’s arms.

The moment her ear pressed against Miao Bai’s chest, Miao Bai’s body went rigid.

Thump-thump.

A real, living heartbeat.

It was only when she heard Miao Bai’s heartbeat that Meng Bai felt truly grounded—undeniable proof that Miao Bai existed in this world, unique to her alone.

Meng Bai shoved her tangled thoughts aside and tried to relax.

“I’m getting sleepy. Can I just hold you like this and sleep?”

“You can.”

~~~

The night was bitterly cold, and Meng Bai dreamed. She stood on a riverbank, the roar of surging water in her ears as the turbulent current spilled over the embankment, soaking her pant legs.

She was freezing to the bone.

In the dream, a figure was slowly engulfed by the whitecaps—Miao Bai.

And so the distant tale of Miss Miao crashed into her slumber.

Meng Bai didn’t think in the dream. The moment she saw Miao Bai, she leaped in after her. The churning waves swallowed her too.

She wanted to grab hold of Miao Bai, to find her—or rather, to die together with her.

The dream felt achingly real: suffocation clawing at her throat, legs like lead dragging her down. She reached desperately for Miao Bai’s hand, calling her name over and over, begging her not to go. But Miao Bai drifted farther and farther away…

“Miao Bai, Miao Bai—”

In the pitch-black little room, Meng Bai shot upright, gasping for air, eyes darting around the darkness. Moments later, Miao Bai’s hand patted her shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Nightmare?”

“Yeah, a nightmare. I dreamed the river swept you away.”

Miao Bai’s hand paused, then she soothed her: “Just a dream. I’m right here, fine as can be.”

Meng Bai took several deep breaths, nodding. “What time is it? Almost dawn?”

“Two or three in the morning. Still early.”

Meng Bai buried her face in her palms. “I think I dreamed of the old you.”

The Miao Bai from long ago—that Miss Miao who had once been the heroine of the story.

Miao Bai kept patting her shoulder in reassurance.

“I’ve never dreamed of my past self. Why would you? And you’ve never even seen what I looked like back then.”

“It was just a feeling. I can’t explain it.” Meng Bai seized Miao Bai’s hand, her breathing uneven. “You scared me half to death. I dreamed you died—must’ve been half-asleep myself.”

Miao Bai sighed soundlessly and rubbed her shoulder. “Only a dream. Not real. Let’s get back to sleep.”

But once they lay down again, sleep wouldn’t come.

Meng Bai tossed and turned; every time she closed her eyes, she saw Miao Bai swept away by the river.

She gave up and tugged Miao Bai into conversation.

“Miao Bai, what does dying feel like?”

“Nothing much.”

“What did it feel like back then, falling into the river?”

“Honestly? I don’t remember.” Miao Bai frowned faintly, as if searching her memory. “Couldn’t breathe. Consciousness faded. Then… nothing.”

“Just like in the dream.” Meng Bai pressed closer, her arms locked tight around Miao Bai’s waist, her voice hushed. “This might sound weird, but don’t die a second time, Miao Bai.”

In the darkness, Miao Bai’s throat worked visibly. It was a long moment before she whispered: “I won’t.”

Meng Bai’s tone turned wistful. “If you did, I’d be heartbroken—devastated beyond imagining.”

Miao Bai replied calmly: “But everyone has to die eventually.”

“Everyone dies eventually, but not you.” Meng Bai paused. “I mean, not too soon.”

Patter-patter. Meng Bai waited for Miao Bai’s reply, but heard only the frantic rain lashing the eaves, then the endless howl of wind.

Tonight’s storm was ferocious—not a night made for sleep.

Meng Bai’s mind suddenly cleared. She rolled over to gaze at Miao Bai. In the pitch-black night, Miao Bai’s face gleamed with a frail pallor, ethereal and almost nonexistent, like a fleeting illusion.

So Meng Bai reached out and touched her face.

The softness beneath her fingertips was undeniably real.

“After that dream, I think I like you even more.” Meng Bai’s voice quivered slightly. She had to say it aloud—she was suddenly terrified that Miao Bai might vanish into the unknown. That dream had filled her with a deep, primal fear.

“You know what it means to like someone?”

“What I feel for you—that’s liking.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.”

Meng Bai stared straight ahead, her eyes locking onto the direction of Miao Bai’s in the darkness. She sensed a hidden light there, shimmering just out of sight.

She couldn’t make out Miao Bai’s expression.

The next moment, a soft sigh escaped Miao Bai’s lips.

“I never imagined you’d like me.” Then she added, “Of course, what I mean is, I never thought I’d get tangled up in love or hate with anyone. Like you said, you sometimes feel distant from me—and honestly, I feel distant from everyone.”

Miao Bai’s voice drifted through the autumn night like a gentle melody, sending a ticklish warmth to the tips of Meng Bai’s ears.

“So when you say you like me, it feels so strange. What is it you like about me, exactly?”

Meng Bai answered bluntly. “It’s just… liking. That feeling I don’t have for anyone else, only for you.”

“What kind of feeling?”

“Want me to be honest?” Meng Bai’s heart thudded heavily. “I want to kiss you. I don’t feel that way about anyone else. Zhou An says that’s what liking someone is.”

There was a softness and certainty in Meng Bai’s voice that made Miao Bai’s heart flutter. A strange, delicate thrill unfurled slowly from her core, sharpening her senses.

She realized then how close Meng Bai was—close enough to feel the hot brush of her breath.

The air grew still.

Miao Bai knew she should say something, perhaps words of refusal, but nothing came to mind. In that instant, she understood she didn’t truly want to push her away.

Meng Bai leaned in closer. Strands of her soft hair grazed Miao Bai’s cheek, tickling lightly. They were mere centimeters apart.

Miao Bai didn’t move.

Meng Bai’s sweet breath, fresh from her lips, filled Miao Bai’s senses.

A murmur sounded in her ear. “Every time I go home, Lin Li asks where the fragrance on me comes from.”

“Mm.”

Miao Bai’s response floated lightly into the air.

“So I’ve often wondered… if I got even closer to you, would I smell even sweeter?”

Miao Bai didn’t reply.

Meng Bai was so near, her words stirring the warm air from her nostrils against Miao Bai’s skin, heating her face.

“Miao Bai… if I get just a little closer, will you hate me?”

That was Meng Bai’s final question.

Her palms were slick with nervous sweat, her shoulders rigid, afraid to shift. A single “no” from Miao Bai, and she would stop.

But Miao Bai said nothing.

Miao Bai remained utterly silent—so silent that the patter of rain on the roof rang out crystal clear.

Autumn nights were cold, but the bed was warm. Meng Bai pressed against Miao Bai’s slender arm, savoring the heat of her skin. The dream about Miss Miao from half an hour ago now felt impossibly distant, like a relic from another era.

What was real was the woman right in front of her.

Meng Bai reached out again, her fingertips tracing the curve of Miao Bai’s jaw before settling on her lips.

A burning desire surged through her heart.

Slowly, she leaned down, her nose brushing Miao Bai’s cheek with the same natural intimacy as their earlier moment that evening.

She found Miao Bai’s lips quickly. Her tense breaths washed over Miao Bai’s face as she trembled.

The instant their lips met, that floating, unreal sensation finally grounded itself.

Miao Bai’s lips were soft, sweet. Meng Bai pressed against them clumsily, innocently, too afraid to move.

She felt herself drifting upward, her body light, her mind unmoored.

She had no idea what came next—could barely remember how to breathe.

Her thoughts scattered as her body melted, slumping heavier onto Miao Bai’s arm.

Then Miao Bai’s hand reached out, wrapping gently around her.

In that moment, when Miao Bai chose to hold her instead of pushing her away, fireworks exploded in Meng Bai’s chest.

So this was what a kiss felt like.

A million times more intense than Zhou An had ever described.