Now, she couldn’t match Lou Yixuan in more than unseen thoughts: visible talent, wealth.
A healthy, whole body. A long, robust life.
And beyond that—grace and allure? She lost to restaurant owner Xu Yaning. Fortified defenses? To industry titan Jin Yilin.
What could she still offer Lou Yixuan?
What matched her?
A pearl shouldn’t gather dust.
“Compared to you, I have no halo left worth your admiration. Yixuan, you’re wonderful, exceptional—deserving someone better. You should move forward, look ahead…”
“There is no better, Lin Huayan! None! Besides you, I’ll never love anyone else in this lifetime!”
Lou Yixuan broke free from her palms, flipped over to straddle her, burying her face in her neck.
Arms locked around her shoulders, right ear to her heart.
No excessive moves—Lou Yixuan lay quietly atop her like a child. After a long moment, she lifted her head, tearfully smiling.
“It’s okay. I’m fine—don’t be scared. I won’t force you or trouble you. Just say you don’t want to see me, and I’ll fly back to Australia tomorrow, go far away—eight years, another eight, never appear before you again.”
“I have hands, feet, earning power. I can live well alone, just like you. So Lin Huayan, please tell me: these past eight years without me—have you been okay alone? Really, truly okay?”
By the dim emergency light, Lou Yixuan traced Lin Huayan’s face.
Fingertips wandered familiar contours, feather-light, like touching priceless, fragile porcelain.
Tears fell like unstrung beads onto Lin Huayan’s neck, leaving wet trails.
Like the scars on her heart that never healed.
Fingers slid from nose bridge to lips, jaw to collarbone—like a leaf battered by cold wind, adrift, seeking anchorage.
She clutched Lin Huayan’s pajama collar tightly, grasping her last lifeline.
“Do you know how much strength and courage it took for me to keep walking toward you, time and again, enduring that heart-wrenching pain? Each time, I told myself not to push too hard, not to take risks—as long as I could still see you, be with you, nothing else mattered.”
Lou Yixuan’s voice grew softer and softer, her throat clogged like it was stuffed with cotton, leaving only the plaintive whimpers of a young beast echoing through the room.
Lin Huayan’s entire body went rigid.
Yet her arms still cradled Lou Yixuan steadily, afraid that even the slightest movement might shatter her into pieces.
Only the numb heart in her chest thudded with a dull, agonizing rhythm.
Lou Yixuan’s hands fell limply away. She carefully smoothed out the wrinkled collar she’d clutched, as if this could erase all evidence of her childish outburst.
Her uncontrolled love and tears retreated with the fabric, slipping back into their proper places.
“Teacher Lin, do you really want me to disappear from your world forever, completely? Do you really want us both to end up alone, never having our deepest wishes fulfilled for the rest of our lives?”
Once more, she called her name.
“Lin Huayan.”
“Is it really that hard to follow your own heart? You love me too—you can’t bear to let me go. Why can’t we make this work?”
How could Lin Huayan remain unmoved by the weeping pleas and accusations from the girl she loved?
What she truly hadn’t figured out wasn’t whether she dared admit her feelings for Lou Yixuan, or whether she could accept being intimate with her. No—it was what definite role she could give Lou Yixuan after crossing this line, and how she could explain it to Lou Yixuan’s parents.
If she couldn’t even pass the hurdle in her own heart, how could she face society’s judgments or her parents’?
“But Yixuan, liking someone, being suitable for them, being together, and going the distance—they’re four different things.”
“And ‘liking’ alone… isn’t enough.”
The road ahead was full of uncertainties—storms, twists, and turns.
She was so afraid that if she abandoned reason and gave herself fully to her love for Lou Yixuan, it wouldn’t bear good fruit.
Afraid that she could only accompany Lou Yixuan for a brief decade or two, leaving her to endure decades more of grief and lonely longing for a lost love.
Afraid, too, that the aftermath of their love would be Lou Yixuan’s rejection of her, nullifying all their beautiful past beneath her own decrepit, tottering steps in old age.
If their story was destined to end that way, she’d rather it never begin.
Lin Huayan stroked Lou Yixuan’s face with tender cherishing. When her fingers brushed the cool ear amid the strands of hair, her shoulder was nipped through her clothes.
Immediately after, her lips were claimed again.
It was domineering.
A reckless tangle and suck, crude and unrefined, driven by sheer force—plundering, demanding.
But Lin Huayan knew better than anyone how skilled Lou Yixuan’s kisses truly were.
They’d been masterful eight years ago—how could they be anything less now?
Just as Lou Yixuan had said, she loved her, she cared… yet she lacked the courage to ask: Over these past eight years, have you ever fallen for anyone else? Have you been intimate with anyone else?
Not loving anyone else didn’t mean never feeling a spark again, never being close with someone else. After all, physical needs could be met without love.
The very thought filled Lin Huayan with burning jealousy.
But whether her imaginings were true or not, she had no right to be angry—Lou Yixuan had done nothing wrong.
In dreams and reality alike, Lou Yixuan had said the same thing to her—Lin Huayan, don’t be afraid.
She was afraid of many things.
But only one person could make her lose all defenses, crumble her reason time and again.
Fortunately, this time Lou Yixuan held to gentlemanly restraint—one hand laced with hers in a ten-fingered grip, the other on her shoulder, venturing no further to her sensitive spots.
Soon, the kiss softened.
Lou Yixuan released her tongue, no longer stirring wildly but teasing the tip with slow, gentle flicks, whimpering softly.
Lin Huayan freed her captured right hand, her thumb tenderly wiping the tears around Lou Yixuan’s eyes. Her girl had shed so many tears for her tonight.
Their lips parted, the heat fading. Lou Yixuan tried to brush her hand away, but Lin Huayan gripped her chin more firmly.
Palm against her jaw, Lin Huayan tilted her head up and claimed Lou Yixuan’s lips.
So many tears—she would repay them with even more kisses.
“Lin Huayan…”
“Kiss me, like you just did.”
At the command, Lou Yixuan wept uncontrollably, obediently deepening and intensifying the kiss.
Lin Huayan responded with equal fervor, kissing back passionately. Shamelessly, she exchanged saliva and poured out her pent-up love for the girl she’d secretly cherished and longed for over eight years—like magma seeping into the ocean depths. Their swallows synced with their racing heartbeats, a turbulent beginning and a grand finale.
…
In the next room, separated by just a wall, He Huan—who had turned in earlier—was restless even in her sleep.
She’d forced herself to stay awake for Du Heming far too long, even worrying she’d sleep too soundly to hear a knock. She’d set an alarm as backup.
When the eleven-thirty chime blared suddenly, it startled her less than the tiptoeing Du Heming, clutching her pajamas in the shadows.
The lights in the entryway and bathroom glowed—left on by He Huan for her.
He Huan lay facing the door. Her eyes snapped open to see Du Heming shrouded in darkness at the threshold.
“Teacher Du?”
But she hadn’t heard a knock, hadn’t gotten up to open the door—how had Du Heming gotten in?
“Sorry, I still woke you.”
Du Heming’s voice carried apology as she averted her gaze. “I came back too late and didn’t want to disturb your rest, so I got an extra key card from the front desk.”
He Huan sighed and sat up at the explanation. “I told you—knock louder, no need to hold back.”
“That’s your generosity, Teacher He. I can’t just take advantage of your good nature and keep imposing on you.”
“During military training, when you roomed with Teacher Wang, was it the same?”
He Huan eyed the clothes, towel, and toiletries in Du Heming’s hands, voicing her suspicion. “You came back late and didn’t want to make noise showering in the room and wake Teacher Wang, so you grabbed your stuff and went to another colleague’s room. We were next door—six nights, and you never came over.”
Du Heming was dumbfounded.
It feels just like a girlfriend digging up old dirt.
One, she and He Huan weren’t girlfriends. Two, this hardly counted as “old dirt.”
“Teacher Du, if you’re upset with me and don’t want to share a room, you should have said so earlier. We could’ve swapped with someone, or I could’ve gotten my own single room.”
He Huan threw back the covers to get up. Du Heming panicked and rushed over.
“Teacher He, no—don’t! I didn’t, that’s not it, sigh!”
In her fluster, her words tangled.
She smacked her own mouth several times in frustration before mumbling, “I’m not mad at you—what would I even be mad about? I just thought… after what happened at dinner, you’d have a bad impression of me. Spending extra time alone in a room with me at night—you’d definitely feel uncomfortable.”
“A bad impression of you?”
He Huan’s brows furrowed, genuinely baffled. “Why would you think that?”
Du Heming’s lips pursed, a sour ache rising in her chest. She looked up into He Huan’s serene eyes. “I… I’m a lesbian. But you’re not.”
