By midday the next day, under Gu Yu’s relentless pestering and coaxing, Jiang Bomu finally caved. She would make sweet and sour fish.
“I knew you were the best, sister!” Gu Yu grinned brightly. “I’ll go cook the rice!”
Jiang Bomu had expected her to come help. Instead, after setting the rice cooker, Gu Yu tossed out an “I’ve got stuff” and slipped back into her room, leaving Jiang Bomu alone in the kitchen to prepare lunch.
So mysterious. Distracted, Jiang Bomu prepared the ingredients, wondering what Gu Yu was up to. A possibility crossed her mind, and she suddenly blushed. Could she be watching something… inappropriate?
Once the thought took root, it couldn’t be suppressed, spreading like wildfire. Jiang Bomu took a deep breath and forced herself to think about the script’s content. Finally, she managed to immerse herself.
At half-past one, the sweet and sour fish was ready. Before knocking on the second bedroom door, she tiptoed closer, trying to eavesdrop. But the soundproofing was too perfect; not a single sound came through.
Jiang Bomu felt a flicker of annoyance. Why had she wanted such impeccable soundproofing back then?
Pausing, another thought struck her. Of course she’d wear headphones while looking at those things. She was, in a sense, Gu Yu’s elder. Who would play that sort of thing out loud in front of an elder?
She paused again, then thought she was overthinking it. If Gu Yu truly saw her as an elder, how could she say things like that? How could she suggest bringing her to do something fun?
Jiang Bomu was caught in her own mental turmoil when the second bedroom door clicked open. She looked up in slight panic to meet Gu Yu’s face, slightly flushed and breathless. It really did look a bit like…
“Sister, what are you doing standing here?” Gu Yu asked, surprised.
Jiang Bomu snapped back to reality and feigned calm. “I came to call you for lunch.”
“Then we must have a telepathic connection. I just got hungry,” Gu Yu washed her hands and sat at the dining table. “Smells amazing.”
Jiang Bomu scooped a bowl of rice for her and asked bluntly, “When are we going?”
“In the afternoon, of course,” Gu Yu tasted the sweet and sour fish. “The evening is when it gets atmospheric for playing.”
Jiang Bomu pressed her lips together and remained silent.
Gu Yu casually changed the subject. “So delicious. Is this really the first time you’ve made sweet and sour fish?”
Jiang Bomu looked at her solemnly. “Xunxun, I think we need to have a proper talk.”
She couldn’t let Gu Yu keep going like this. Their relationship shouldn’t be like that.
“Talk about what?”
“You said you want to take me to do something fun.” Jiang Bomu found it hard to say, but she pushed on. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Why not?”
Jiang Bomu summoned her courage. “I only agreed to Grandma Qiao to look after you for a while. We can be friends, best friends, or any other normal relationship, but absolutely not… friends with benefits.”
Saying it at last, she still stumbled slightly.
After so many years in entertainment, she was well aware this industry was a vanity fair rife with sponsorship deals and trading favors for advancement. But her inner self remained conservative. She couldn’t accept the term ‘friends with benefits’ appearing in her life.
She looked at Gu Yu sternly, but Gu Yu just looked back at her and then burst out laughing.
“What are you thinking?! The fun thing I was talking about is going to KTV!”
Jiang Bomu: “…?”
She fell into a long silence.
So when Gu Yu said four days later she’d be at her best, she meant her singing. When she said to enjoy the process, she meant singing. And that the evening was more atmospheric—also because of singing.
Realizing the massive misunderstanding, Jiang Bomu was incredibly embarrassed. Hiding in a crack in the ground wasn’t enough; she wanted to flee the planet right now.
“But it’s also my fault for wanting to give you a surprise and not clarifying,” Gu Yu said between laughter, also self-reflecting. “Sorry, sister. My bad.”
Jiang Bomu had no desire to ever speak of this again. She gave a low “Mm,” her face redder than the sweet and sour fish.
“But how did sister’s mind go there?” Gu Yu asked slyly. “Who have you done this kind of fun thing with?”
This was delving into the most private of privates. Jiang Bomu had every right not to answer, even to glare at Gu Yu coldly. But her mind was still full of the embarrassing incident from moments ago, and she blurted out subconsciously, “Never.”
Gu Yu blinked languidly. But… she was twenty-seven.
It had never been her wishful thinking that Jiang Bomu might not have done such things. But learning this answer, Gu Yu still felt a surge of glee. So sister was that pure. No wonder she blushed just from holding hands.
Sensibly, she didn’t mention the topic further and switched to other subjects.
At five o’clock in the afternoon, the two headed out to the KTV.
“Sister, when was the last time you went to KTV?”
“Many years ago,” Jiang Bomu recalled. “I think it was a graduation party in college.”
So distant.
Gu Yu asked again, “But you can sing, right?”
“So-so. I don’t go off-key.”
Gu Yu gave a quiet hmph. So modest!
Over the past few years, various TV station galas had invited actors to perform. Jiang Bomu had gone two or three times. Her segments were all songs. Her voice was on the softer side, and she always sang ballads, very pleasant to hear.
“My singing is even more so-so than yours,” Gu Yu cleared her throat, giving her a heads-up. “When the time comes, if you can’t stand it, be sure to tell me.”
Jiang Bomu nodded, unconcerned. As long as Gu Yu never brought That Topic up again, she could tolerate even ten tone-deaf people singing in front of her.
But after entering the KTV room, she realized she’d overestimated her tolerance. Gu Yu’s singing had zero technique; she just belted out with her raw, natural voice. Music at max, mic at max. After one song, Jiang Bomu’s ears nearly went deaf.
“Your turn, your turn!”
Warmed up, Gu Yu felt she could sing eight hundred more songs. But today’s main character was Jiang Bomu. The mic hog Gu Yu graciously abdicated.
Jiang Bomu chose a ballad, Sun Yanzi’s “Against the Light.”
She sang it beautifully, but Gu Yu found it boring. KTV was for explosive songs! Singing your lungs out—that was release!
She found the song she’d spent nearly an hour preparing at noon, put it in the queue, and held the mic at the ready.
Worried Jiang Bomu might get thirsty, she hurriedly called a server just as the song was ending and ordered a fruit platter and water.
The server had just stepped in when the intro started—like high heels clicking on a floor, gripping the heart.
The intro was only twenty seconds. She grabbed the mic and said urgently, “Sister, go along with me in a bit.”
Jiang Bomu had no idea what she meant.
No time to explain, Gu Yu started singing the first line.
Jiang Bomu raised an eyebrow, surprised. She hadn’t expected her to sing quite well. She glanced up at the song title. “Dangerous Party.”
The colorful lights swirled. The song’s beat made you want to sway involuntarily. Jiang Bomu wiggled her body slightly when Gu Yu suddenly pulled her up.
“Left hand, protecting your waist / Won’t ever touch your back—”
Gu Yu suddenly moved close, loosely wrapping an arm around her waist. Jiang Bomu was stunned for a moment, then realized it was from the lyrics. Smiling, she looked at Gu Yu, willing to play along.
“Right hand, cradling your heartbeat / Whether forward or stepping back—”
The hand on her waist moved upward, a seemingly absent-minded lift. Jiang Bomu turned her face away, self-consciously, feeling her heartbeat accelerate.
“If you truly trust me / Raise your hand, spin in place—”
Hands clasped tight. Led by Gu Yu, she spun a circle. Their gazes met, clinging together.
Gu Yu’s voice halted. The background music continued—fiery, rhythmic, spellbinding.
Perhaps the mood was just right. Neither knew who leaned in first. They exchanged a kiss.
