Chapter 57

He Huan’s reaction was far calmer than Du Heming had anticipated, which undoubtedly gave Du Heming even more confidence to press forward.

She had to strike while the iron was hot.

Otherwise, after tonight, she probably wouldn’t muster the courage to pour out her heart to He Huan again.

Some opportunities only came once, and some words only had one chance to be spoken.

Du Heming also stood and circled to the window, crouching down in front of He Huan.

He Huan’s waist was slightly bent, her gaze fixed blankly on the curtains. Her deep eyes were darker than the night outside, the corners tinged red as if on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Du Heming apologized. Then she lowered her eyes to He Huan’s hands, clasped tightly on her knees. “I know you’re probably thinking that some of what I just said was too idealistic, unrealistic.”

“Then, let me tell you some realistic stuff. Just listen—pretend you’ve suddenly gained superpowers and overheard my innermost thoughts.”

With that, Du Heming straightened her chest and adjusted her posture, trying to crouch more elegantly.

She cleared her throat with a cough, switched to her usual lighthearted tone, and spoke methodically: “Please allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Du Heming. I’m 34 years old, with a master’s degree from a top 985 university. I work at Tianmu Middle School as a dedicated high school chemistry teacher.”

“I’m the only child at home. My parents are healthy; they don’t fully support my orientation but aren’t overly opposed either. They nag me constantly out of frustration—like hating iron for not becoming steel—and blame me for not finding a reliable, stable girlfriend in my thirties.”

“I don’t own a car or house yet, but I have nearly 600,000 yuan in personal savings—enough for a house down payment or to buy a practical car outright.”

“If my partner needs security, my parents and late grandma have set aside a dowry—er, better call it a settling-in fund. It could cover a full house or car purchase, in both our names.”

“I like enjoying life, but not in a debauched, stay-out-all-night way. I love experiences—food, drinks, fun. Don’t miss out on what you can try.”

“At home, I can be domestic too. My cooking isn’t gourmet, but it’s edible. My flaw? Well, in my mom’s words, I don’t see chores, so my dorm’s always a bit messy. But I swear, I swear!”

Du Heming raised her right hand, fingers pointing skyward. “I’m not unclean or lazy. With someone to remind or nudge me, I’ll do any housework—I’m quick on my feet.”

“I’ve said a lot; you probably can’t remember it all. In short: There’s a woman named Du Heming—clean family background, passable looks, upright character, healthy body, respectable stable job, no financial woes, no hereditary illnesses. Most importantly, she really likes, really likes another woman named He Huan.”

He Huan couldn’t help but chuckle at her eager self-defense, the gloom sweeping away. She shot Du Heming a helpless, bittersweet glance.

The heavy atmosphere lightened, delight blooming on Du Heming’s face, her heart pounding like a fawn on the loose.

So, when exactly did she fall for He Huan?

Probably starting from that line: “Grandma, I’m Heming’s girlfriend. My name is He Huan.”

No, even earlier.

That bowl of noodles at the Military Training Base had already hooked her stomach—and her soul. Falling for He Huan was inevitable.

“Done?” He Huan’s sudden question jolted Du Heming.

Her brain whirred like a wound-up toy, frantically reviewing and reorganizing the past ten minutes’ output, checking for any key omissions.

She quickly spotted one.

In same-sex relationships, one unignorable issue—best discussed upfront—was children.

“Teacher He.” Du Heming called softly.

Stubbornly waiting for He Huan to turn and look at her.

Like a feather brushing her heart, He Huan’s lashes and fingers trembled.

Over the years, friends and family had set her up with at least eight men. Out of politeness, she’d added a few contacts but never chatted deeply or met any.

She couldn’t admit to her father and sister-in-law that she felt nothing for men. Since Ming You, no other woman had stirred her heart.

The one thing she could insist on, the one act of self-determination, was never entering a man’s marital cage again.

As for marriage to a woman? She’d never considered it.

Weekdays at school, weekends at home.

No outings, no socializing—severely limiting her circle, sealing herself in a narrow web of relations.

She had no plans or visions for the future. Her future was just… her.

But today, someone faced her, pouring out fervent affection, vividly dreaming of their future—and a woman, no less.

A woman full of life’s passion, bold and dashing in action, always making her laugh.

Du Heming lived exactly as she wanted.

With a top-tier personal charm that comfortably infected everyone she cherished, quietly providing endless emotional value—selfless, fearless.

And she was one of the “beneficiaries.”

Du Heming was great.

Truly great.

As if compelled, He Huan turned her head, meeting Du Heming’s eyes.

How could she like me?

How could she belittle herself just because she likes me?

“Du Heming…”

“Teacher He, can I finish first?” Du Heming cut in. “I’m afraid if you speak first, I won’t be able to continue.”

“Mm.” He Huan softly agreed.

“The other thing I wanted to say is about kids.”

Before speaking, Du Heming feared touching a taboo, but taboo or not, she had to lay her stance bare on children.

The upright are open-hearted; the petty-minded are always anxious. Better to speak upfront and avert issues.

“I have no obsession with kids—my parents agree. Have them or not, either way.”

“But honestly, I’m embarrassed.”

Du Heming ducked her head; when she looked up, her cheeks flushed visibly even in the dim light.

He Huan’s taut heart suddenly raced again.

“I have to apologize first. I’m shamelessly coveting you. Coveting the thought of us having a daughter someday—with a mom as gentle, attentive, tolerant, and loving as you. How happy she’d be.”

Even more shamelessly, I want to be your daughter.

She couldn’t say that.

“I’m not sure if you and your family know, but overseas, a country has cutting-edge tech for same-sex reproduction. Costs are manageable, success rate 70%.”

“I’m not saying we must have kids if we’re together—just that on practical fronts, straight or gay makes no difference now. We can hold hands on the street, have a packed wedding, enjoy full marital rights as wives, even have one or more kids fully tied to our blood.”

Here, Du Heming’s face burned hotter.

She buried her head lower, voice dropping to a murmur.

Like a pup wanting to rest its head on its owner’s lap for pets, but without permission, just dangling halfway.

The gesture reminded He Huan of that morning in the car on the way here—Du Heming “shyly” burying her head just like this.

When her left hand instinctively lifted to stroke Du Heming’s hair, He Huan caught herself and stopped.

Du Heming’s whispery confession continued: “If you and your family really want kids, I-I’m healthy; I’d be safer to carry. If your family is like mine—no strong feelings—then… we’ll see later…”

Finally done.

The weight lifted from Du Heming’s chest. She breathed deeply, pinched her numb legs, and tilted her face up.

“All that was from the heart, but just for your reference. You…”

“I heard it all, and I get it.”

He Huan reached out, gripping her forearm to help. “Legs numb? Stand first.”

Du Heming braced her left hand on her knee, right grasping He Huan, wobbling to her feet with a hiss before sitting beside her.

Seeing her features twisted in discomfort, He Huan smiled faintly. “Teacher Du’s words are as plentiful as ever.”

“…” I’d emptied my inkwell—how could it not be?

“I’m not as great as you think, and don’t belittle yourself.” He Huan’s jumbled thoughts settled quickly—surprisingly so.

Well, makes sense. I’m with Du Heming.

Du Heming was a walking mood-lifter.

Even this “blind date” was uniquely charming—witty every moment, making sorrows vanish, leaving only joy.

Joyful?

Liked by Du Heming. Confessed to by Du Heming. Fully woven into Du Heming’s future visions.

—He Huan, let me ask one last time: Have you ever included me in your future plans?

Suddenly, ten years flashed back—to her wedding night, Ming You’s tear-reddened eyes, desperately seeking confirmation.

Back then, too cowardly for dreams, she’d cruelly told Ming You “No.”

Was she gentle? Tolerant?

She’d hurt the girl who only listened to her, only smiled for her—the one she’d truly loved, secretly dreamed of being with.

That wedding wasn’t happiness; it was a grave, burying her sole heartbeat.

Married life brought not one day of joy.

He Huan… How can I ever find joy in this life?

“Teacher He? Teacher He? Um, I, what… what do you think?”

The calmer He Huan seemed, the less at ease Du Heming felt—like her heart was miles away.

Rubbing her leg, heart in turmoil, she eyed He Huan’s hand, then her profile.

“I said a lot. No rush—take your time.”

Haste makes waste. Who grilled a blind-date prospect right after self-promo: “So, do I pass?”

He Huan hadn’t shut her down or storm out—that was face enough.

As sensation returned to her calf and she moved to her own bed, He Huan finally spoke.

“Teacher Du, let’s keep some distance.”

…

Morning light slipped in like silver threads, slicing through the warm, softened air.

Lin Huayan woke early, counting motes dancing in the curtain gap. Time? Probably not yet eight.

She felt the tiny rises and falls in her arms. Lou Yixuan curled fetal-like, crown brushing her chin, warm breaths condensing damply at her collarbone.

Their combined body heat must’ve warmed them; last night’s piled duvet had slid to their shoulders.

Lou Yixuan nestled close, breathing steadily.

Lin Huayan couldn’t see her face but glimpsed her temple, recalling last night—Lou Yixuan burying her face in the fluffy pillow to muffle sobs, tears glinting through her hair.

Lin Huayan brushed her lips lightly against the hair whorl. The “pretend-sleeper’s” lashes fluttered like dying butterfly wings, burrowing deeper, nose pressing her heartbeat.

Two single beds side by side lay silent in dawn’s glow. They’d crammed onto this 1.2-meter one; the other remained pristine.

After a night tightly embraced, fate hadn’t fused them into one inseparable being.

In feigned sleep, Lou Yixuan listened to Lin Huayan’s heartbeat, tilting her ear to count the caged beast’s powerful thumps.

One by one—strong.

Lin Huayan’s smooth neck itched from the nuzzling. She returned the gesture, stroking Lou Yixuan’s nape in kind. The warmth of her palm seeped through the skin softened by yesterday’s hot spring soak, straight into Lou Yixuan’s bones—a dense, prickling itch that spread to her limbs.

Lou Yixuan pretended to shift in her sleep, but her arm stayed looped around Lin Huayan’s waist. Her nails, however, dug quietly into her own palm.

Lin Huayan’s body still carried the fruity scent of her favorite body wash, mingled with the salty bitterness of tears that had silently fallen. In her nostrils, it brewed a hallucinogenic poison.

Why can’t I control myself?

Why does it hurt so much?

A sigh drifted down from above, warm breath stirring the stray hairs on her forehead.

She knew this was another prelude to parting, yet she kept her eyes shut, gathering the heat of Lin Huayan’s skin with her lashes—like collecting melting snow, like capturing a fading breeze. She knew it couldn’t last, but she stubbornly clung on for one more moment.

Morning light grew brighter. More people headed downstairs for breakfast; doors on the same floor slammed one after another.

Lin Huayan pulled back slightly and pressed a kiss to Lou Yixuan’s forehead. “Time to get up for breakfast.”

The teachers’ morning wrap-up meeting ran from nine-thirty to eleven-thirty. She couldn’t be late, couldn’t stay in bed with Lou Yixuan.

Lou Yixuan buried her face back in Lin Huayan’s shoulder hollow, arms tightening even more. She inhaled her scent deeply, terrified that after today, she’d never smell it again.

After indulging her whims, she withdrew from Lin Huayan’s embrace. “Good morning, Teacher Lin.”

With the greeting done, Lou Yixuan rolled over and curled into a ball. “I’m not going to the meeting. I want to sleep more. Go ahead without me, Teacher Lin.”

Her arms suddenly empty, Lin Huayan stared blankly for a moment.

She sat up from the bed and tucked the quilt snugly around Lou Yixuan’s back. “I’ll have breakfast delivered to the room.”

She got out of bed to wash up and change.

On her left shoulder lingered a faint red mark shaped like teeth—not too obvious anymore. It was the bite Lou Yixuan had left last night when they’d tangled together and she’d gotten mad.

Silly girl, you were so angry—why didn’t you bite harder?

The server delivered Lin Huayan’s coat and scarf, along with breakfast.

She dressed neatly, tied her hair back, and even put on her silver-framed glasses. No one could tell that beneath the prim and proper director’s wool sweater lurked such a tantalizing bite mark.

But an observant eye might notice that Director Lin’s lipstick today was a shade deeper than usual.

Lou Yixuan dragged herself out of bed around nine, glancing at Lin Huayan on the sofa and the breakfast still steaming on the desk.

“Eat some. It’s still hot.”

Lin Huayan’s laptop sat on her lap. She closed the PPT for the meeting, then packed it into her computer bag.

“Thanks. I’ll eat after brushing my teeth.” Lou Yixuan flashed a quick thank-you and darted into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Lin Huayan knocked on the glass door. “I’ll try to wrap up right at eleven-thirty. Come downstairs on time, and we’ll meet at the buffet at eleven-forty?”

Lunch was self-serve at the hotel buffet; everyone had to check out and head back to the city by two.

Lou Yixuan slid the glass door open.

Her cheeks still held the faint flush of morning, but her expression was coolly distant. “Director Lin, can I head out first? I’d like to go back to the city early.”