Chapter 45: Words of Love

The room was dim. The night light’s glow illuminated only a small patch of space, casting flickering, hazy light onto the blush spreading across the girl’s face.

Gu Yu stared dazedly at Jiang Bomu, who was leaning closer and closer. Strands of their hair intertwined, the tips of their noses touched. Breath was hot, poised for an exchange of a heated, wet kiss.

“Sister…” she murmured involuntarily, like the whispered, intimate language between lovers.

“Xunxun, tell me,” Jiang Bomu looked at her tenderly. “Did you blush that day too?”

A tone like coaxing a child, yet laced with a hint of seductive enticement. Gu Yu was thoroughly entranced. She could only admit quietly, “Mm.”

Jiang Bomu smiled. “Xunxun is such a good girl.”

Her tone turned tender again, almost flirtatious.

Gu Yu felt herself losing composure. Why was Jiang Bomu so strange today?

But she also loved it so much.

“Sister,” she called intimately, “so this time, is there a reward for good children?”

Last time she’d said Jiang Bomu was her goddess, and Jiang Bomu was so happy she allowed her to sleep in her arms. What would it be this time?

Gu Yu looked at her expectantly.

“This time, ah—” Jiang Bomu drawled lazily, asking in return, “What reward do you want?”

As if whatever she asked for could come true.

Gu Yu pressed her lips together. She wanted her kiss. She wanted her body.

Most of all, she wanted her love.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t have any of that now.

She feigned a troubled expression. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“Then it’s an IOU for now,” Jiang Bomu said. “When you’ve thought of it, tell me.”

As she spoke, she stroked Gu Yu’s hair. From top to tip, a seemingly absent-minded caress down her back, a tingling, numbing tremor. Gu Yu couldn’t help but curl up and bury herself in her embrace.

At moments like this, Gu Yu felt the phrase “soft jade, warm fragrance” was tailor-made for Jiang Bomu. Every word a perfect pearl.

“Time for sleep?”

Gu Yu had already closed her eyes comfortably. At her words, she just hummed in response, like she was acting cute.

“Oh, right. One more thing.”

The ambiguous atmosphere made Gu Yu open her mouth full of anticipation. “Tell me.”

“When are your parents coming back?”

Gu Yu: “…”

She opened her eyes, speechless. Jiang Bomu really knew how to ruin a mood!

But… she hadn’t actually asked her parents. It wasn’t that she forgot; she was afraid that if she asked, her parents would think she missed them and fly right back the next day. Then she could never sleep beside Jiang Bomu again.

This carefully plotted chance for bed-sharing—she hadn’t savored it nearly enough. She couldn’t let her parents’ return ruin it.

So lately, she rarely chatted with her parents. Every time they sent tourist photos, she gushed with exaggerated praise, urging them to have fun, and emphatically insisting she was doing incredibly well there, painting Jiang Bomu as a divine being who walked the earth and heaven combined, putting their minds at ease.

“Haven’t asked,” Gu Yu said. “Let them enjoy their time for two.”

Jiang Bomu didn’t agree. “Xunxun, you should ask.”

Gu Yu deflected. “I’m sleepy. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Jiang Bomu hummed quietly. Her brows held a few traces of quiet melancholy. The days they could spend together day and night were truly numbered. She desperately wanted to know exactly how many were left. Otherwise, every day felt like the last.

So the next morning at breakfast, she pressed her to ask about the specific date.

Gu Yu still didn’t want to and used the time difference as an excuse. “It’s the dead of night in Switzerland right now. My parents don’t put their phones on silent when they sleep. I don’t want to disturb them.”

Jiang Bomu paused, also realizing how impatient she’d been. She didn’t say more.

After breakfast, Jiang Bomu continued reviewing her script.

Filming for the movie “Sleepless” started mid-September. From the moment she finished filming Courtesan Belle, she had been diligently preparing. This script, which she’d read twice before, yielded new insights every time. The pages were covered in dense notes.

Gu Yu naturally didn’t disturb her. When tired of drawing, she played with Wan An. Sometimes she glanced at the script, always feeling a pang in her heart.

“Sleepless” dealt with sexual assault, adapted from real cases. The lines were soaked in blood and tears. She couldn’t bear to read too much; it was too painful. When she’d watched the movie “Hope” before, it took her days to finish in fragments, precisely because she cried so hard, unable to continue.

“Sister, when you’re acting, won’t you just be crying from start to finish?” Gu Yu’s eyes were already tearing up after a few glances. “What are we going to do?”

“Getting into character isn’t bad,” Jiang Bomu pulled herself out of the emotional immersion and smiled reassuringly at her. “Xunxun, why are you worried about this?”

Gu Yu wiped away her tears, embarrassed, and explained quietly, “Just imagining those scenes breaks my heart. And you get into character easily. What if you get trapped in the same mindset and… and you end up like the female lead…”

Gu Yu had secretly peeked at the ending. “Sleepless” had an open ending like “Hope.” Some believed that the protagonist finally lived happily with her parents and younger brother. But Gu Yu was inclined to think the protagonist ultimately chose suicide. “I’m so glad you were born”—that line was clearly a farewell.

This film was the same. Gu Yu was terrified Jiang Bomu would get so deeply immersed she couldn’t pull herself out.

“The ending’s been changed already,” Jiang Bomu revealed the truth. “The female lead will live well, and even get a cat in the end.”

Gu Yu looked up in surprise. “Really?”

But the script she saw a while back clearly wasn’t like that.

“The final script hasn’t been sent yet, but this ending’s already confirmed. Don’t worry.”

Gu Yu immediately heaved a huge sigh of relief and smiled. “That’s good then.”

Though reality might not have such a perfect ending, being reborn from despair—that was the resolution she most wanted to see. Maybe it could offer some solace to girls currently trapped in their own darkness.

They idled around at home for another day. Seeing the fridge nearly empty, they had no choice but to make a grocery run.

Yuning had seen several bouts of rain recently, and the past couple of days were overcast. Everything was damp. The asphalt roads had turned a dark hue, the white lines of the crosswalks seemed sharper—it all had the cinematic quality of a blockbuster movie, refreshed and renewed.

Gu Yu breathed in the crisp, pleasant air when Jiang Bomu suddenly brought up the previous topic. “Xunxun, when are your parents coming back?”

Gu Yu pressed her lips together. The third time.

She answered stiffly, “I don’t know.”

“Still haven’t asked?” Jiang Bomu sounded wistful. “Xunxun, why won’t you ask?”

She urgently wanted a specific time, to cherish every minute, every second of the present. Otherwise, her mind would keep running wild.

Gu Yu sighed. Did she really not understand? Of course she couldn’t bear to leave her. Yet she kept pressing.

Unable to hold it in, Gu Yu spoke from the heart. “Sister, are you tired of me? Why are you so eager to push me away?”

Jiang Bomu was stunned. Only then did she realize she’d been totally misunderstood. She blurted out urgently, “Of course not!”

“But you’ve asked so many times,” Gu Yu stared down at the tips of her shoes, dejected. “Isn’t that wanting me to leave?”

“How could that be…” Jiang Bomu explained, both exasperated and amused. “I was just asking so I could arrange our schedule for these next few days.”

Gu Yu looked up at her, her gaze bright. “So, you also can’t bear to see me go?”

“Of course I can’t bear it,” Jiang Bomu took a step closer and said softly, “I want to be with you always, always.”

That sounded just like a confession. Gu Yu blushed slightly. Thank goodness for the mask hiding it. She dodged Jiang Bomu’s gaze, afraid her shyness and affection would leak from her eyes.

Gu Yu also told her her own thoughts. “The reason I haven’t asked my parents is that I’m afraid they’ll think I miss them. What if they fly back tomorrow?”

“Sister, I want to be with you always too.”

The late summer breeze was slightly warm, carrying these veiled words of love, twining around their hair strands as two hearts quietly drew nearer.

Inside the supermarket, Gu Yu first raided the snack aisle.

Ever since becoming the little assistant, she’d barely had any chance to eat snacks. Only now, in her downtime, did she feel her taste buds were lonely. But the previous days of heavy rain offered no chance to buy any. Finally, she could indulge. In just five minutes, half the shopping cart was full.

Jiang Bomu had to physically stop her. “Xunxun, tomorrow isn’t the apocalypse.”

Gu Yu: “…”

What a cold joke.

Reluctantly leaving the snack aisle, they went to pick up groceries.

Jiang Bomu looked at the fresh fish and asked, “Still want fish?”

“Yes!” Gu Yu had already chosen the flavor. “Sweet and sour fish!”

“You really know how to challenge me. Always choosing what I don’t know how to make.” Jiang Bomu sighed, but still indulged her, picking out a fine bass.

With the fish bought, Gu Yu rushed her to leave.

Jiang Bomu was confused. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I just find fish a bit… fishy,” Gu Yu scanned the prawns not far away and pointed in the opposite direction. “Let’s check over there.”

But Jiang Bomu had seen them anyway. Smiling, she asked, “You want shrimp?”

Gu Yu shook her head frantically. She didn’t want Jiang Bomu recalling bad memories.

“Must face things eventually,” Jiang Bomu pulled her toward that section. “I’m not going to give up so many delicious foods because of one little incident. It’s not worth it.”

Jiang Bomu’s perspective was clear. While buying the shrimp, she smiled at Gu Yu with perfect composure. “When we’re home, I’ll make you braised prawns.”

“Okay.”

Gu Yu curved her eyes. This time, she would definitely make it so that whenever Jiang Bomu ate shrimp in the future, all she remembered was happiness, forgetting the vexation of that day.

Home with their purchases, Jiang Bomu and Gu Yu stuffed the refrigerator to the brim.

Gu Yu thought, with immense satisfaction, that a home’s liveliness was judged by its fridge. The fuller the fridge, the richer the aroma of life, and with it, a spontaneous sense of happiness.

“All your favorites,” Jiang Bomu looked at her dotingly. “What do you want to eat tomorrow? I’ll make it.”

Gu Yu glanced at her pile of junk food and smacked her lips. Without thinking, she said, “I want to eat junk food.”

Jiang Bomu: “…Fine. No cooking tomorrow.”

“No cooking, no cooking,” Gu Yu’s mind was full of snacks, and she beamed, “Let Chef Jiang have a good rest.”

After washing up and lying in bed, Gu Yu changed her mind. “Sister, maybe you should cook tomorrow after all?”

Jiang Bomu was applying a face mask. Expressionless, she said, “Didn’t you say I should rest?”

“I have to be full tomorrow, or I won’t have energy.”

“Why?”

Earlier, while in the bathroom, Gu Yu remembered something important. No wonder Jiang Bomu had forgotten. So she patiently explained, “I said before, right? Tomorrow we’re doing something fun.”

Jiang Bomu’s hand paused while removing the mask. Then, her expression unchanged, she peeled it off and gently patted her cheeks.

After a long pause, she finally spoke, confessing. “Xunxun, I’m not ready yet.”

They hadn’t established a relationship. It was too soon.

“You don’t need to prepare anything. Just enjoy the process,” Gu Yu opened the food delivery app. “I’ll arrange everything else.”

Jiang Bomu swallowed her objections.

For tonight, she would just sleep well. Tomorrow, she would firmly, righteously refuse.