Chapter 59

“What do you mean by that?”

Jin Yizhu feigned ignorance of what she meant, standing under the showerhead and letting the water drench her.

“Why did you stop halfway?”

Wei Shuyu looked at her. In the misty steam, Jin Yizhu’s hair was soaked, her usual fluffy, seaweed-like curls now clinging wetly to her shoulders, which only accentuated her fair skin and delicate collarbones.

She was looking right at her, with clear eyes, yet on such a stunningly beautiful face.

Even without makeup, it evoked the radiant visage of a siren from the sea, with red lips and white teeth, and deep, profound pupils.

Many thoughts flashed through Wei Shuyu’s mind, but she was too lazy to pursue them. None of those answers mattered. What mattered was that Jin Yizhu was right there in front of her.

There had been few brave moments in her life.

Running away from home to the other side of the ocean had been one; recklessly becoming Jin Yizhu’s Canary had been another; confessing to Jin Yizhu amid the swirling steam had been yet one more.

Now, wrapping her arm around Jin Yizhu’s neck, pulling her close, and kissing her lips was another.

“I just think showering together is really erotic.”

Wei Shuyu said softly, her tongue tip licking across Jin Yizhu’s lips with heavy seductive intent.

“What do you think?”

After briefly pulling away, she kissed her again, her scorching breath brushing against Jin Yizhu.

Wei Shuyu’s kisses were forceful, but not plundering ones. They were gentle, like vines entwining Jin Yizhu’s lips and tongue, meticulously tracing her lip line and kissing her teeth.

Endlessly entangled, as if inviting her to taste them.

They carried a sweet, cloying breath, unclear whether she was savoring Jin Yizhu or tempting her.

“…You like this,” Jin Yizhu gasped lightly, her fingers threading into her hair and pressing her closer, “makes it really erotic.”

That strange urge arose again.

It felt like a fire burned in her heart—she wanted to explore, to get closer, to know everything about Wei Shuyu, to devour her, to be as close as two people could possibly be.

The shower left them drenched, the perfectly warm water cascading endlessly, blurring time and space, making everything else seem unimportant. The only thing that mattered was the person before her.

They slowly washed their hair, dragging it out until they could delay no longer. Finally, Jin Yizhu turned off the water and asked, “Want me to blow-dry your hair?”

There were fresh bath towels in the changing room. Jin Yizhu grabbed one at random and wrapped Wei Shuyu in it, feeling like she was drying off a little kitten.

“Gently,” Wei Shuyu mumbled from inside the towel, “Do you even know how to dry hair?”

“No, I’ve never done it for anyone else,” Jin Yizhu replied. “You know I’ve been pampered and clueless about chores since I was little.”

“Then why insist on blow-drying my hair?”

Wei Shuyu poked her head out from the towel and took a deep breath, feeling like she’d nearly suffocated.

“My Eldest Miss, can you not have these sudden attacks?”

“I just wanted…” Jin Yizhu smiled sheepishly, “to make you feel I’m gentle.”

“Your gentleness isn’t in these things.”

Wei Shuyu lowered her head, drying her own hair as she spoke.

“No need to force yourself. I know you’re good to me.”

Not in these everyday chores, but in emotional support.

Just Jin Yizhu telling her to respect her own feelings was worth more than everyone else around her combined.

These little daily tasks weren’t Jin Yizhu’s thing anyway.

She’d been cared for by others since childhood—how could she suddenly learn to care for someone else? Wei Shuyu didn’t mind these things; she wasn’t helpless. There was no need to turn an apple into an orange.

“But I want to try.”

Jin Yizhu didn’t give up. Once Wei Shuyu’s hair was half-dry, she picked up the blow dryer and started clumsily drying it for her.

“Did your ex-girlfriends blow-dry your hair?”

“What?”

Amid the whir of the blow dryer, Wei Shuyu couldn’t quite hear her.

Jin Yizhu simply turned it off and asked again, “How do others blow-dry your hair?”

“No one blow-dries my hair,” Wei Shuyu found it a bit amusing. “That’s not what you want to ask, is it?”

Wei Shuyu took the blow dryer from her hands and started drying her own hair, tilting her head so her damp strands fell, casting an oddly alluring charm under the dim yellow light.

“You want to ask about my ex, right?”

Jin Yizhu didn’t want to admit it.

In her mind, the past was the past. Digging into it endlessly was tactless.

Whether classmates or friends, they all approached it nonchalantly.

They said to play it cool—don’t ask about the past or the future. Focus on the now, enjoy the moment, and don’t chase forever.

But she did care.

She wanted to know Wei Shuyu’s past, what her life had been like before they met, who she’d known, if she’d cried in rainy nights, if someone had made her smile.

She wasn’t open-minded enough, nor selfish enough. Caught between, she wanted to know but couldn’t bring herself to ask.

At some point, she’d started caring about her image in Wei Shuyu’s eyes. She couldn’t smile at her recklessly anymore, sling an arm around her shoulders, or pour out sweet nothings like a waterfall—drowning Wei Shuyu without regard for the consequences.

“Jin Yizhu, do you want to know?”

Wei Shuyu looked at her, seeing the hesitation on that beautiful face, and oddly felt a thrill.

“If you want to know, just ask.”

“Can’t say it,” Jin Yizhu said. “I heard true magnanimity means ignoring past matters.”

At times like this, she clung to those muddled principles.

In the brightly lit changing room, Wei Shuyu finished drying her own hair, then came over to lift Jin Yizhu’s strands. Before blow-drying, she blew a light breath by her ear. “Then think about it slowly.”

She wouldn’t push for discomfort.

If Jin Yizhu didn’t ask, she wouldn’t volunteer it.

Amid the whir of the blow dryer, she dried Jin Yizhu’s hair.

Jin Yizhu’s hair was fine quality, soft like silk in her hands.

Without styling, it was actually straight—chestnut-colored locks falling to her shoulders, framing her fair, exquisite face in a beauty different from her usual look.

Unlike Jin Yizhu, Wei Shuyu was good at taking care of others.

She dried it strand by strand. By the time it was half-dry, Jin Yizhu had made up her mind.

“Tell me.”

Jin Yizhu suddenly grabbed her wrist, took the blow dryer away, and kissed her palm.

“What kind of person was she?”

“She?” Wei Shuyu gave a cold laugh. “She got married.”

She got married.

Those four words seemed to sum up everything about that person.

“That’s it?”

Jin Yizhu fell silent. She didn’t know what to say, yet felt she shouldn’t say nothing.

She could sense those four words weighed on Wei Shuyu heavier than a thousand pounds.

“What about when you were together?”

“…”

Wei Shuyu paused for two seconds. She hated reminiscing, especially failed ones.

For her, best to forget or erase them, leave no trace—even if it was avoidance. Avoidance was shameful but useful, so why not?

Did life demand facing everything?

But Jin Yizhu had asked, so she had to answer.

Honesty was a virtue, especially with a lover. She felt compelled to offer full loyalty.

“We were happy when we were together.”

Wei Shuyu said softly. She finished drying Jin Yizhu’s hair, set down the blow dryer, and stepped away from the large mirror.

She picked a fresh yukata from the basket—beige with camellia patterns. The soft fabric draped loosely, giving anyone who wore it a serene air.

Wei Shuyu’s tone was equally flat. “But not for long. She thought I wanted too much, that it cramped her freedom.”

Jin Yizhu listened in silence, feeling she shouldn’t interject.

She put on the same yukata, but on her, it wasn’t serene—instead, it gave off a cold sharpness. Maybe because of the pale tones, she looked more austere in the mirror than usual.

“After breaking up with me, she got married.”

Wei Shuyu glanced at Jin Yizhu in the mirror.

She thought maybe she shouldn’t say so much, but since Jin Yizhu had opened the topic, she probably wanted the full story. After all, asking wasn’t easy.

“I did question my life—right when I met you.”

In that instant, Jin Yizhu understood.

That aura of loneliness around Wei Shuyu when they first met.

The mist in her eyes.

“I don’t care,” Jin Yizhu suddenly hugged her tight. “Anyway, I’ve caught you now.”

I’ve caught you. I’ve pulled you from that fog.

Since I kept you in this world, you have to stay for me, always and forever. You have to love me, stay by my side, belong to me alone—no thinking of others, no caring about anything else.

“Wei Shuyu,” Jin Yizhu buried her face in her neck, “you can’t leave me. No matter what, you can’t leave me.”

“Jin Yizhu…”

Wei Shuyu sighed softly, raising her hand to her head and stroking her hair.

“I won’t leave you casually, unless…”

Jin Yizhu asked, “Unless what?”

“Unless you get married too,” Wei Shuyu said softly. “I’m not interested in being the other woman.”

She ignored Jin Yizhu’s silence, ignored that momentary clarity in her eyes.

Maybe she shouldn’t bring it up now—talk of engagements was too harsh—but it had to be faced eventually, right?

Wei Shuyu lowered her gaze and just smiled. “Hair’s dry. Want to go for a walk? They have honeydew prepared; we can try some.”

Jin Yizhu gathered her thoughts. “Sure.”

Under the brilliant starry sky, Jin Yizhu’s mind raced with thoughts.

A never-before-considered, utterly mad idea was taking root in her heart.

Before meeting Wei Shuyu, Jin Yizhu had never questioned her life.

Money could buy many things—fine clothes and wine, jewels and bags, even sunsets and oceans. After effortlessly seeing most of the world’s beauties, Jin Yizhu felt… bored. Utterly bored.

Bored to numbness. Nothing fresh, nothing more interesting.

She’d tried numbing herself with alcohol, satisfying herself with luxuries, but human desires could never be filled with money.

Those who said money solved all troubles just didn’t have enough.

Once money couldn’t buy happiness, fatal emptiness followed.

But so what?

Living was living, no matter how. Who said life needed meaning?

Maybe she’d just drift through until the end.

Her life’s end would surely be lavish, full of splendor.

Arranged marriage? Being a tool? If life was empty anyway, what difference did it make?

Bound by those questions, nearly falling into the abyss, she’d seen Wei Shuyu through the rain curtain.

A woman she’d never seen before, sitting on the steps of the Grand Theatre, a flickering spark between her fingers. She hadn’t asked, but knew she didn’t really want the smoke—it was just too lonely.

“Wei Shuyu,” out of nowhere, she said again, “don’t leave me.”

I can’t promise anything now, so no empty vows.

But if that’s your condition, I think I can manage.

Arranged marriage…

Was a kind of sacrifice.

Jin Yizhu had avoided thinking about it before, knowing full well it was a glamorous sellout, handing over power.

Had she accepted it? Maybe she’d never truly accepted that fate.

Otherwise, why reach out to Wei Shuyu?

“I…”

Wei Shuyu didn’t want to promise what she couldn’t deliver.

Jin Yizhu had said similar words many times, but she had never answered them directly. This time was different; she could feel that Jin Yizhu was serious.

“I won’t leave casually.”

That was all she could say.

Jin Yizhu stared fixedly at her. Under the clear moonlight, her eyes took on a strange hue, as if plated with the cold tones of moonlight, more bewitching than usual by several degrees.

Really? Jin Yizhu very much wanted to ask, but she didn’t voice it.

Wei Shuyu sat beside her, seemingly oblivious to her thoughts, as she gazed at the starry sky and savored the honeydew melon in the dish.

The honeydew melon was cut into small pieces, glistening with a sweet hue. It tasted crisp and sweet, Jin Yizhu’s favorite fruit in the past. She had specially instructed the servants to prepare it in the courtyard after they finished soaking in the hot spring.

But now, she had no mind to taste it at all.

She simply watched Wei Shuyu, watched her profile, watched the strands of hair draping by her cheek.

Amid the curtain of night, Wei Shuyu seemed even more aloof. Her face held no expression; no one knew what she was thinking. She was completely different from the woman who had kissed her in the hot spring just moments ago.

“Wei Shuyu, what are you thinking?”

She desperately wanted to know something—anything at all. What she was thinking, what she wanted to do. As long as it concerned Wei Shuyu, anything would do.

Wei Shuyu turned her head and glanced at her. “The honeydew melon is delicious. Do you want some?”

She poked a piece of honeydew melon and held it out to Jin Yizhu.

Jin Yizhu opened her mouth and ate it, but it tasted like nothing.

How strange. She was starting to feel unlike herself.

Why was she thinking so much? Why was she trying to puzzle out another person’s thoughts? And besides… wasn’t Wei Shuyu supposed to be easy to understand? At least over the past two years, she had thought so.

But why, on this night when she should have understood Wei Shuyu…

She felt that whatever Wei Shuyu was thinking, she didn’t dare to understand it.

A strange possessive desire troubled her, while Wei Shuyu ate her honeydew melon with an innocent expression, as if lost in nothing at all.

Jin Yizhu tilted her head back and gazed at the distant starry sky. Quietly, she reached out and grasped Wei Shuyu’s hand.

Wei Shuyu didn’t pull her hand away. She didn’t turn to look at her either. Her breathing merely stuttered for an instant.

She wasn’t oblivious. She could fully sense exactly what Jin Yizhu was thinking when she took her hand.

What was more, Jin Yizhu had never tried to hide her possessive desire.

Under the brilliant starry sky, Jin Yizhu turned her head toward her.

Wei Shuyu looked back at her too. No one knew what she was thinking, but those eyes were truly beautiful.

Jin Yizhu stopped thinking. What was the point of thinking, anyway? Before instinct, before her own heartbeat, thinking felt like nothing but a shackle.

Did life necessarily have a right answer? Maybe not? Even if she wanted to kiss Wei Shuyu right now, so what?

“Wei Shuyu…”

Finally, she did the thing she had wanted to do all evening.

“I like you so much.”