Chapter 45

After leaving the courtyard, Lu Huan returned to her room.

Just as she was about to head upstairs, she looked up and spotted Bai Jin coming down the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” Bai Jin asked when she noticed Lu Huan’s troubled expression.

Lu Huan didn’t respond to the question. Instead, she simply started up the steps.

Bai Jin spoke again. “Did you have a fight with Aunt Qin?”

For some reason, Lu Huan heard a note of schadenfreude in those words, as if Bai Jin was eager to watch the drama unfold. Lu Huan tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Is that what you were hoping for?”

Hoping to see a rift between them, ideally one that would tear everything apart so she could swoop in and reap the benefits.

Bai Jin sensed that something was off with her mood.

“Lu Huan?”

That call finally snapped Lu Huan back to her senses.

…She shouldn’t have spoken like that.

She was supposed to treat Bai Jin well at every moment, make her dependent, maybe even fall for her, obey her every word.

Any slip that revealed her true thoughts—through actions, words, or behavior—was unacceptable. Until her goal was achieved, she had to keep up the act and be good to her.

With that realization, Lu Huan suppressed her cold emotions and spoke in a gentle tone. “I’m fine. I might just be a little tired. I’ll rest and be okay.”

It was like she had become a completely different person from moments ago.

Bai Jin stood on the steps above. Lu Huan glanced at her, reached out to take her hand briefly as they passed each other.

“I’m going to rest. I’ll come find you later.”

Even now, she remembered to make physical contact.

Bai Jin’s expression darkened slightly. She watched as Lu Huan returned to her room and closed the door behind her, plunging the space into silence.

Bai Jin paused for a moment on the stairs before continuing down.

The steps hadn’t changed, nor had the villa’s layout over the years. Everything remained as it always had been. From this particular step, gripping the handrail and looking down, she could see the living room sofa. In the past, that person had often knelt there.

And Bai Jin had stood right on this step, watching.

It was a perfect vantage point—behind the person’s back, unnoticed. Even if spotted, she could simply descend naturally, as if she happened to be coming down at that exact moment.

This villa held too many secrets. Every time she passed through, memories flooded back unbidden.

After descending, Bai Jin headed to the backyard.

Not far off, she saw Qin Dian lost in thought while sipping her tea.

Sunlight filtered through the tree leaves, casting dappled patches on Qin Dian’s shoulder. Yet Bai Jin sensed a touch of loneliness in the scene.

“Aunt Qin.”

Qin Dian came back to herself and smiled faintly as Bai Jin approached. “Jinjin, you’re here. How was your rest? Come, sit.”

Bai Jin sat beside her. Qin Dian gazed into her eyes. “Does your head still hurt?”

Whenever Bai Jin met Qin Dian’s gentle gaze, she always felt as though the woman was looking through her at someone else.

“The wound is almost healed. You don’t need to worry, Aunt Qin,” Bai Jin replied.

“That’s good.” Qin Dian let out a relieved breath, took Bai Jin’s hand in her own, and patted the back of it. Her voice grew quieter for the next words. “If something happened to you, I wouldn’t know how to explain it to your mother.”

“I’ve never taken good care of you.”

Bai Jin’s expression darkened again, but she said nothing.

Qin Dian looked out the window. “Has Bai Shan come looking for you again?”

At the mention of that name, Bai Jin’s eyes widened slightly.

Qin Dian caught the subtle reaction. “What, you think I don’t know anything?”

She smiled helplessly and took a sip of tea. “One of you acts like I know everything but won’t tell me, and the other is shocked that I know. You two…”

Hearing that name made Bai Jin pause briefly, but she wasn’t entirely surprised.

Qin Dian had simply withdrawn from outside affairs to live quietly at home. She wasn’t deaf to the world or ignorant.

She stood at the pinnacle of the city, with the clearest view of its undercurrents. Time had merely dusted over her insight with a thin layer of obscurity.

“Little Aunt hasn’t come looking for me again,” Bai Jin said.

“That’s for the best. The grievances between her and me are old matters—our business alone. I won’t let her affect you two anymore.”

Qin Dian set down her teacup. “Every grievance has its source, every debt its debtor. She knows that.”

Bai Jin asked no more.

She knew Qin Dian didn’t want to dwell on the past.

They sat there like that as the tea before them was replenished when it ran low.

The sun dipped behind clouds, then slowly emerged after a breeze. The clouds in the sky drifted slowly yet swiftly, seeming motionless until, after some time, one realized they had moved to the other side.

By dinnertime, Aunt Luo began preparing the meal and asked what they wanted.

Around six, dinner was ready. It was similar to lunch, with mostly the same dishes but a different soup.

Lu Huan came down from upstairs. Bai Jin noticed her complexion had improved from earlier—perhaps the afternoon alone had helped her adjust.

No one truly understood another’s feelings like their own. Mastering one’s emotions was probably an essential adult skill.

“What have you been doing up there all afternoon?” Qin Dian asked.

“Sleeping. I was too tired,” Lu Huan replied between bites as she picked at her food.

Bai Jin glanced up and looked at Lu Huan across the table.

Lu Huan kept her eyes down on her bowl, her hair tucked behind one ear, revealing a pale cheek. Her dark brows and eyes lacked their usual sharpness, softened by exhaustion.

The corners of her eyes were still faintly red.

It didn’t look like she’d been sleeping.

“That’s good too. You’ve been rushing around at the company—your body’s worn out. Make up for it this weekend.”

“Mm.” Lu Huan nodded.

Throughout the meal, conversation was sparse—just a few words here and there. Aunt Luo kept things lively, praising the two young women’s beauty and talents, sharing amusing stories. Her presence eased the tension at the table.

But once dinner ended, Lu Huan didn’t linger. She headed straight back to her room.

Alone again, she leaned against the door and let out a long breath.

Her gaze fell on the old notebook on her desk.

After a pause, she walked over to it.

The handwriting on the pages was uneven, the strokes wild and immature, full of youthful defiance and flair.

She must have written it during those couple of years in her mid-teens. Lu Huan had found it while sorting old books and flipped through it.

Opening it unearthed not just a record of her thoughts, but fresh memories buried like fallen leaves.

These words carried the accusations of the Lu Huan from back then.

She hadn’t understood why she was the only one always punished with kneeling, why her mother always looked at Bai Jin with such tenderness, why she had to share her mother’s love.

The words were from that teenage Lu Huan, but the one over a decade later felt unchanged.

So that afternoon, she had told her mother, I’m your child.

Just two minutes later, Lu Huan realized Bai Jin meant sleep literally.

Bai Jin said nothing more, just pushed her onto the bed.

And that was it—no further moves.

The room quieted, silent enough to hear each other’s breathing.

They lay side by side on the bed, just like before.

So this time, Bai Jin’s “sleep” was purely innocent…

Lu Huan couldn’t be blamed for misunderstanding. She knew exactly what provocative things Bai Jin had said in the past.

Eyes full of desire, greed—Lu Huan sometimes wondered if she had a skin hunger.

“Let’s cover up.”

The air conditioning blew cool air, chilling their skin. Lu Huan pulled over the nearby blanket and said.

They both got under the covers, and silence stretched on.

In the warm nest of the blanket, a hand reached over from the side, slipping between her fingers to clasp her hand.

Lu Huan’s fingertips twitched slightly, but she didn’t resist, letting it happen.

Under the soft bedding, their fingers intertwined. Lu Huan’s once-cold hand gradually warmed.

“Why’d you come over?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bai Jin replied.

Lu Huan paused for a moment. “I can’t sleep. As if lying like this would make me fall asleep?”

Bai Jin slightly tilted her head and said indifferently, “You’re not happy today.”

It was still noticed after all, huh.

Lu Huan chuckled derisively. “You’re quite understanding.”

“Bai Jin.”

Hearing her call out to her, Bai Jin didn’t respond with words. Instead, she tilted her head and stared straight at her, replying through her actions while listening attentively to her next words.

“No other meaning—you didn’t do anything wrong.” Lu Huan looked at the ceiling and said flatly, “I mean, hypothetically.”

“If you could sever the adoptive daughter relationship with Little Aunt——”