Stay?
Lu Huan lowered her gaze to the hand clutching her sleeve, sensing a hint of anticipation in the gesture.
She recalled what had happened that night—things that unfolded naturally when desire reached its deepest point.
Too fast.
This was not a good thing.
Lu Huan glanced around the room, then down at herself, as if to say, Look, where exactly could I sleep?
There were no extra beds or blankets, and laying out a mattress on the floor wasn’t an option. The hospital room didn’t even have one of those small accompanying beds for family. Of course, if she really insisted on staying, she could probably scrounge up some bedding and a foldable cot without much trouble. But Lu Huan didn’t want to.
After a long silence, Bai Jin scooted toward the edge of the bed and lifted her eyes to Lu Huan again.
Lu Huan understood.
Her meaning was clear.
The bed was big enough.
She could sleep with her.
“……”
Lu Huan wasn’t even sure how she ended up agreeing to stay.
It was mostly because someone had stared at her with those eyes for far too long, with Auntie He fanning the flames to boot.
Not long after Bai Jin made her request, Auntie He returned with dinner.
As the three of them ate together, Auntie He chatted a bit more than usual, and just like that, Lu Huan found herself neatly roped in.
“If Miss Lu has the time, why don’t you stay and keep Miss Bai company? You can see she hardly ever smiles, but the moment you arrived today, she didn’t even frown once.”
“The doctors say a good mood helps the body heal faster. The single room has great conditions and everything she needs. If you could stay overnight to keep her company, that would be wonderful. Sleeping alone in a room every night, especially while injured— it must be so uncomfortable.”
Auntie He’s tone was gentle and unhurried. She could tell Bai Jin desperately wanted Lu Huan to stay, while Lu Huan seemed to be hesitating and making excuses, so she figured she’d toss out the idea like a lighthearted joke.
Those words sank into Lu Huan’s ears.
Lu Huan had to admit Auntie He had a point.
Sleeping alone here every day must be lonely without company. If she stayed to keep her company now, Bai Jin might grow even more dependent on her.
With that thought, Lu Huan was about to speak up when Bai Jin lifted her gaze, watching her expectantly.
Looking into those eyes, Lu Huan simply agreed.
And so, as dusk fell.
Lu Huan fetched clean clothes from her car, along with her portable toiletries, preparing to spend the night.
“This is just this once.”
Before heading into the bathroom to shower, she made sure to clarify that this was an exception.
Bai Jin said nothing. Only when the sound of running water started did she quietly straighten the blankets beside her.
The bed in the single room was spacious enough for two.
After her shower, she climbed into bed.
“You lie down first. I’ll turn off the lights.”
“Okay.”
Hospital beds and sheets usually carried the sharp scent of disinfectant, which stung the nose. But these blankets had already been slept in by Bai Jin, infused with her own fragrance.
The familiar scent mingled with the unfamiliar one.
The last time they’d lain together was that time Lu Huan had deliberately engineered, when she’d brought her own blankets.
This wasn’t their first time sharing a bed since growing up, but it was the first time sharing the same quilt.
Even with a small safe distance between them, they could faintly feel the warmth radiating from the other’s body.
Lu Huan stared at the ceiling for a moment until her eyes adjusted to the dark. In the dim room, she could make out vague outlines.
She closed her eyes, and a voice came from beside her.
“Could you hold me?”
Lu Huan opened her eyes again.
…Hold her?
Before she could think it over, she turned toward Bai Jin, who immediately scooted closer, as if she couldn’t bear another second of waiting.
She nestled solidly into Lu Huan’s embrace.
Bai Jin nuzzled against her. Their body heat intertwined, wrapping her in warmth.
As expected… this person definitely had an ulterior motive for wanting her to stay.
Lu Huan stiffened for a second, then reached out to stroke her hair and pat her back.
Bai Jin only burrowed deeper into her arms.
If it were convenient right now, Lu Huan might have pulled out her phone and added a note to her memo: Likes hugs.
But on second thought, combined with all her previous observations, it could all be summed up neatly under one heading—
Likes skin-to-skin contact.
Stroking hair, caressing cheeks, kisses— all of it boiled down to one thing: she craved physical touch, skin against skin.
Bai Jin’s breath ghosted over the skin at her collarbone. Lu Huan gradually relaxed, thinking that if this was what she wanted, holding her like this for the night wasn’t so bad.
But this person’s intentions didn’t seem that innocent.
The quiet didn’t last. Bai Jin’s hand slowly crept upward, like a cat sneaking a paw toward dried fish.
It landed on Lu Huan’s chest.
Undoing her buttons.
Restless.
By the second button, Lu Huan caught her wrist.
“What are your hands doing?”
The motion had been right under her nose, so Bai Jin showed no sign of being caught off guard. Her fingers twitched, her lashes fluttering.
“Can’t I?”
“No.”
Lu Huan really wondered what went on in this person’s head every day.
“Why not?”
“Because— hss.”
Lu Huan started to repeat her line from before— wait until you’re healed and discharged— but Bai Jin bit down just below her collarbone, cutting her off.
She hadn’t expected that after just a few days without it, this person’s desires had grown even stronger.
If she hadn’t grabbed her hand, who knows what else she might have tried.
Lu Huan’s voice deepened. “What did I say before?”
Bai Jin’s eyes widened slightly as she released her.
She remembered what Lu Huan had said: if she wanted something, she had to obey. Bai Jin knew.
Obeying meant doing or not doing as Lu Huan wished. Only by following her lead could she earn the rewards.
Her hand, caught mid-motion, couldn’t budge. They stayed locked like that. Ignoring Lu Huan’s earlier words, Bai Jin tilted her head up and kissed her lips, drawing in their softness bit by bit.
Lu Huan didn’t push her away, letting her kiss but offering no response—like a block of emotionless wood.
No reciprocation.
What she said was no meant no.
Bai Jin’s eyes darkened. She withdrew her hand and made no further moves.
Seeing this, Lu Huan thought, That’s more like it, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“It’s late. Go to sleep.”
The room was dark, the air conditioner humming cool air. Curled up in the quilts, holding the person in front of her, it felt like a furnace on a winter day—warm, soft, tempting her to seek even more heat.
Bai Jin closed her eyes, greedily yet restrainedly inhaling Lu Huan’s scent.
“Wait until I’m discharged, right?” After a long pause, she murmured.
Lu Huan knew what she meant. “Yes.”
“You won’t lie to me?”
Lu Huan curved her lips. “How could I? Now sleep.”
They shifted into comfortable positions, and both sank into tranquility.
Outside, the moon gradually retreated behind drifting clouds. The stars twinkled before being eclipsed by the rising sun in the east.
Time passed, and day returned.
She slept soundly through the night.
The next morning, when Lu Huan woke, things were different from usual.
Normally, she slept flat on her back, eyes opening to the ceiling.
Today, she was on her side, facing Bai Jin.
The person in her arms felt exceptionally warm.
Their smooth, heated skin brushed together. Lu Huan gently smoothed the stray locks of hair from Bai Jin’s cheek, then carefully extricated herself, slipped on her shoes, and headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
As she buttoned her shirt, turning around, she noticed Bai Jin’s lashes trembling nonstop.
Seeing she was awake but pretending to sleep, Lu Huan called her out.
“Enjoying the view?”
At that, Bai Jin stopped pretending and opened her eyes, propping herself up halfway.
Lu Huan continued buttoning her shirt. “I might be busy for a while after this, so I won’t be able to come by all the time.”
She glanced up midway. “I hope a certain someone doesn’t sulk like yesterday, getting all worked up before her external injuries even heal.”
Bai Jin pressed her lips together, saying nothing.
Once everything was tidied up, just before leaving with her things, Lu Huan walked to the bedside, kissed Bai Jin, and pressed her forehead to hers, speaking softly.
“Good morning. I’m heading back to the company first.”
Only Bai Jin knew that yesterday—with Lu Huan there—was the best sleep she’d had in days.
If only she could stay by her side every day, every hour, every second.
Too bad she couldn’t chain her down with a collar and leash.
Though she desperately wanted to.
Bai Jin gazed quietly into her eyes and nodded. “Mm.”
“Good morning.”
—
As Lu Huan had said, the next period was truly busy. She often worked late into the night and even took a three-day business trip midway to meet partners, hoping to expand her ventures.
During the days they didn’t see each other, Lu Huan sent photos of every meal to Bai Jin, whether she replied or not—never missing a single one.
Sometimes the background was her office desk, other times the company cafeteria, or a dinner meeting.
Some meals at proper mealtimes, others dragged out until one or two in the afternoon.
Half a month slipped by in the bustle, and Bai Jin’s injuries had mostly healed.
In her boredom at the hospital, Bai Jin often took snacks and wandered to the park behind the building.
Every time she passed the path she’d walked with Lu Huan before, she’d run into that stray kitten without a home. And every time she saw it, she’d feed it the treats she’d brought specially.
Later, she’d even buy cat-safe dried fish and freeze-dried snacks.
Over time, the little cat grew familiar with her, letting her pet it and meowing at her side the moment she entered the park.
Often, park-goers spotted the pair: one person and one cat, strolling several meters apart along the pebbled paths.
This time, she’d brought cat food, pouring it into its little bowl.
Bai Jin stroked its body.
“You’re homeless too, huh.”
“Meow—”
The Little White Cat let out a yowl, as if responding.
“Eat up.”
Yeah.
They were both homeless souls.
That day, Lu Huan made time to visit the hospital. Not finding Bai Jin in her room, she headed to the park. Sure enough, there she was, with the white cat.
She sat on a bench, cradling the Little White Cat in her lap—the same bench they’d shared before—gazing at the fountain.
Silent, just sitting there.
Lu Huan stood at a distance, watching her back.
She.
Liked it that much?
“……”
“This little cat is so well-behaved. It doesn’t make a fuss and just quietly roams around the park. It even goes behind the hospital cafeteria to scavenge for food and has gotten friendly with the staff there.”
“Last time, I don’t know what happened, but it must have bumped its head somewhere. There was a nasty gash and it was bleeding. I saw it and bandaged it right up.”
Another nurse who often helped the stray cat chimed in. From her pink uniform, it was clear she was still in her internship period.
“What do you mean ‘bumped its head’? Look at that wound—it had to be some brat from the hospital or some jerk who did it. Definitely man-made,” her colleague said with a helpless shake of her head.
“There used to be a bunch of stray dogs and cats hanging around the park behind the hospital. But patients kept complaining that they carried viruses and posed a risk, so they reported it to the administration nonstop. The director couldn’t take the pressure anymore and had to send them all to a stray animal rescue center.”
“This little cat showed up later. I bet it got chased off by some people and that’s how it got hurt. Look at its back—there’s something wrong with the fur there too. Someone must have hit it.”
The pink-uniformed nurse sighed softly. “Can’t be helped. For every good person in the world, there’s a bad one. They exist side by side.”
In the director’s office, several people sat in chairs.
“That’s the gist of it,” the head nurse at the station said to Lu Huan and Bai Jin. “If you two can adopt it, that would be perfect.”
Lu Huan nodded and glanced sideways at Bai Jin, checking her opinion.
In the end, they decided to take in the little white cat.
Come the weekend, Lu Huan and Bai Jin brought the cat to the pet hospital for a checkup.
The white cat had striking blue eyes. Years of wandering and poor nutrition had left its coat thin and sparse, the snowy fur dulled with grime. Only after the exam and a thorough cleaning at the pet hospital did they confirm its breed for sure.
It was a blue-eyed Ragdoll—a little female kitten.
“Why would anyone abandon a Ragdoll these days?” the veterinarian’s apprentice muttered while assisting. “Is it because they need so much grooming, plus the glass stomach? They’re tricky to care for.”
“It’s not the breed,” the doctor replied. “It’s the people.”
The checkup results came back clean—no diseases. Some minor lingering issues would need proper care at home, and the doctor went over every precaution they should take.
Bai Jin held the cat off to the side while Lu Huan bowed her head over her notepad app, jotting down each instruction.
When she finished and went to save it, something occurred to her. She turned to Bai Jin. “Oh, right—have you thought of a name yet?”
“A name…”
Bai Jin gazed into its eyes.
Blue and profound, mirroring its vagabond past.
“Call it Momo,” she said. “Like the ‘mo’ in desert.”
Just like a wanderer struggling out of the sands.
Lu Huan typed the name into the note’s title.
“Perfect. Momo it is.”
…
They bought supplies for Momo—litter box, bed, cat food, and more. Lu Huan planned to drop Bai Jin off at the hospital first, then head home.
On the drive back, with Lu Huan at the wheel, she said to Bai Jin, “Not sure why, but when we were talking names earlier, the first thing that popped into my head was Little Bai.”
Bai Jin turned her head at that. “Why?”
Lu Huan’s lips curved into a smile. “It’s got that head injury, just like you.”
Not only that—pure white fur, bright eyes, delicate and doll-like in its beauty.
Just like her.
“Is that so.” Come to think of it, yeah—they both had head wounds.
Something flickered darkly in Lu Huan’s eyes, though her smile lingered and her tone stayed light and teasing. “So what happens when you move out of my place? Who gets custody of the cat?”
It almost sounded like a divorce spat.
Bai Jin didn’t hesitate. “Me.”
Lu Huan laughed. “Fair enough. It’s already bonded with you.”
After dropping Bai Jin at the hospital, Lu Huan took Momo home.
The crate, cat bed, and other deliveries had arrived, stacked at the door by the delivery folks.
Lu Huan had asked around in the group chat ahead of time for shop recommendations and what supplies to get, then placed the orders.
Mu Yuanxin and Yu Shan both had cats at home, so they knew their stuff. Once they heard about Lu Huan’s plans, they fired off a slew of shop contacts.
[The litter, box, bed—all set.]
[Oh, and clear the living room of anything breakable.]
She hauled the shelves inside, assembled them, tucked away the fragile glasses in safe spots, and tidied up inside and out.
It took Lu Huan half the day of bustling around before she finally relaxed. She released Momo from its carrier and fed it some freeze-dried treats to settle it down.
“This is your new home,” Lu Huan said, trying out the name Bai Jin had chosen. “Momo.”
Momo immediately scanned the unfamiliar surroundings. Its eyes widened at the towering cat tree it could climb and leap on, and it padded forward tentatively.
“Meow—”
Then it jumped up.
Lu Huan figured it needed time to adjust, so she snapped a photo with her phone and sent it to Bai Jin. Before she could type anything, a video call buzzed in.
It was Zhong Ruo.
Lu Huan turned up the volume and answered.
Right on cue, Zhong Ruo’s squeal blasted through. “Eeee! I just saw the group chat—you got a kitty?! Show me now!!!”
Lu Huan flipped the camera around. The second Zhong Ruo spotted Momo, her eyes lit up like stars.
“Oh my gosh, cutie pie, who’s my wittle fwuffy? So adorable! I wanna pet you and smooch you all over! Auntie will come visit and give you kisses next time~” Zhong Ruo turned into full-on kitty mommy mode, her voice pitching up into baby talk.
“You’re ridiculous,” Lu Huan said, angling the camera away.
Back to facing Lu Huan, Zhong Ruo dropped the act and huffed playfully. “Hey, come on! Don’t be such a cheapskate—let me see!”
“But seriously, what made you decide to get a cat all of a sudden? You’ve never been into pets before.”
Lu Huan paused at the question.
“Maybe…”
She’d rarely seen the usually aloof Bai Jin care about anything.
Bai Jin seemed indifferent to most things, but not this cat.
Or maybe it was because the cat had been abandoned, homeless, wandering—it was just so pitiful.
That felt a bit like Bai Jin, too.
Either way, every thought circled back to her.
…
Lu Huan let out a cold chuckle.
Time really changes you. She was starting to feel sorry for her.
“Maybe what? Why’d you go quiet?”
Lu Huan switched topics. “What’s this, Miss Zhong gracing me with a check-in? That’s new.”
Zhong Ruo took the bait. “Huh? Miss Zhong? You’ll be calling me President Zhong soon enough.”
Lu Huan humored her with a straight face. “Sure, sure—future president.”
They chatted and bantered for ages before hanging up. Glancing at the time, Lu Huan realized her day of hustling had run right into dinnertime.
Dinner for one was no big deal. She whipped up a quick bowl of noodles.
She snapped a photo and sent it to Bai Jin.
Bai Jin rarely replied to her messages, but Lu Huan knew she saw them. That didn’t stop her from sending more.
Halfway through eating, the screen lit up.
Bai Jin: [Want to see it.]
Want to see the cat? Lu Huan pondered for a second, set down her chopsticks, and initiated a video call. She headed over to Momo and called out to it.
“Come here.” She racked her brain and settled on a term.
“Go see your mom.”
