Chapter 43 Part 1

Her knees pressed into the soft carpet. The curtains blocked the light. Lu Shimiao’s arms were pinned, clamped. Xue Tong’s strength threatened to crush her along with them. The Shanghai rain still pattered against the window, in sync with her tears, a dense, relentless tapping on the glass and on her heart.

The forced embrace from behind—wrapping her arms around Xue Tong in this position—felt deeply uncomfortable. Holding her head up for so long was tiring, so she naturally rested it on the other person’s still-trembling shoulder. Ear pressed to ear. If not for the alcohol, she thought this intimate closeness, this ear-to-ear intimate rubbing, would be described perfectly.

The tighter the embrace, the stronger the scent. Even the alcohol couldn’t mask Xue Tong’s smell.

One sentence. Just one soft sentence—”Don’t go”—and the dam she had so carefully built would collapse with a roar. An unstoppable torrent would surge into her body. Lu Shimiao knew it wasn’t water. It was Xue Tong’s tears. Her tears were flooding her legs. How could she walk away? She couldn’t even stand up. She was practically wagging her tail right now.

“Xue Tong,” Lu Shimiao said her name right by her ear.

Hearing it, Xue Tong began to cry even harder, worse than that time on the sofa. She grabbed Lu Shimiao’s arm and pressed it to her chest. “Don’t go, okay?” she pleaded in Cantonese.

“I won’t go. Stop crying.” Lu Shimiao wrapped her arms back around Xue Tong’s waist.

Xue Tong suddenly froze, then straightened her back, lifting them both. She turned her head, her whole body radiating heat—whether from tears or breath, it was unclear. But that heat could steam a person alive, just like Xue Tong’s gaze.

Xue Tong rested her gaze and her nose against Lu Shimiao’s profile. The heat spread across her face, then filled their lungs. Xue Tong held her hand, guiding it to her own face. Beneath Lu Shimiao’s fingertips was that beautiful face; her palm was full of tears. This position was hard to maintain. She guessed that if she weren’t tall enough, with good stamina, no one could match Xue Tong.

And in this world, only Xue Tong could pull something like this.

Sitting in her embrace, face pressed close, Xue Tong rubbed her tears onto Lu Shimiao’s skin. “I really missed you.”

Lu Shimiao didn’t know if Xue Tong was drunk, or if she was the one drunk on the scent of her.

She just felt the memories of the past grow incredibly hazy. The feeling was overwhelming, a gathering storm, dispersing with the faint, airy sounds Xue Tong made. She began to learn to be an honest person. Her tears responded to Xue Tong’s words, falling unbidden onto her shoulder.

“Me too.”

Me too.

Four years of perhaps, maybe, and if only—all transformed into me too in this moment.

Just hold her face like this. Look at her eyebrows. Will she grow old? Will she leave? Will she ever show this vulnerability again? It didn’t matter. As long as her hand could touch her face, as long as their silhouettes could still overlap in the darkness, as long as these blurred tears could still hold her. Let the withdrawal symptoms come again. She could take it.

Their breaths gradually intertwined in the haze and heat. Xue Tong also turned into a kneeling position. She quickly untied the hair tie from her wrist and gathered her loose hair high on her head with practiced ease. Lu Shimiao watched, wondering if she was truly drunk or not. But those strong brows beneath the high crown were mesmerizing. There was no light in the room, only her eyebrows. How could she be this beautiful without a trace of makeup?

“Let’s kiss,” Xue Tong said.

Her dazed, scattered gaze was searching. Kneeling, she leaned forward and cupped Lu Shimiao’s face in her hands. She looked for a long time, tears still falling. Lu Shimiao didn’t know how she could even see her face through them. She just couldn’t think anymore. Her body went weak, sinking back to sit on the floor. Her mind was a complete blank.

Xue Tong’s breath was fuel, burning fiercely.

Xue Tong lowered her head. With no hair to block the way, her tears arrived at their destination first.

Lu Shimiao tasted salt and dampness, but then her mouth was flooded with an intense sweetness. She felt helpless under Xue Tong’s kiss. Her breath was slowly drawn away. The alcohol made her head spin. Her body couldn’t withstand the sudden ferocity. She had to brace her elbows on the sofa behind her, tilting her head up to meet the passion.

Xue Tong’s breathing was heavy, shockingly distinct in this kind of night. Every pull of her lips was a release of four years of longing. She kissed so slowly, the specific sweet, wet sounds making her own head spin, her body close to collapse.

So she gripped the collar of Lu Shimiao’s police uniform with one hand. The other climbed to the back of her neck—hanging on, gripping tight. She even got distracted by it, suspecting she might strangle the woman. But she had no other anchor. This was all she could do. Xue Tong kissed deep, so deep Little Dog’s eyelashes trembled.

Her neck was caught, her breath was stolen, and she could barely breathe. Her weakening body fell backward involuntarily. Xue Tong’s lips refused to leave. So they pulled her down with them, slowly kneeling forward, bending low. The line of her spine, deeply arched, extended. Her waist and hips lifted.

Lu Shimiao hadn’t left.

But Lu Shimiao’s mouth wasn’t yet filled with her own taste. She missed her so much. Even though they were kissing. She still missed her. Not just a physical reaction, but a feeling in her heart. She wished something could cover the hollow echo inside her, hold her steady. She wanted to keep Lu Shimiao here.

So she started giving directions.

She pressed her body close, pinning them tightly against the sofa. One hand still gripped Lu Shimiao’s collar. The other slid from the back of her neck, down to Lu Shimiao’s uniform pants. She patted her leg gently. Her lips left hers for half a second.

“Don’t kneel. Sit up properly.”

Sit up properly.

Lu Shimiao’s brain couldn’t react anymore. She obeyed Xue Tong instinctively. She adjusted her position in the cramped space, parting her legs so Xue Tong knelt between them. Then she stretched out and sat fully on the floor.

“Your waist, bring it closer.”

Xue Tong’s voice had changed, producing tones she normally wouldn’t—drifting, husky.

Lu Shimiao obeyed.

Her body finally supported, Xue Tong wrapped her arms contentedly around Lu Shimiao’s neck. She sat up, straddling her, knees on either side, pinning her in.

Xue Tong was very thin. To Lu Shimiao, it felt weightless. She couldn’t feel any weight, but she could feel the contact. She was going crazy. She subtly pressed her thigh up against her, just like before. She was so familiar with this routine, yet now it felt a little rusty.

They started kissing again.

Lu Shimiao thought the taste of beer was strong. That golden foam reappeared—dreamlike. She took the weight of their bodies, heavy and solid. Outside, the rain beat against them. Even if a gust of wind rushed through the door, it couldn’t break them apart. Tight, solid. Everything felt concrete. The room was huge, yet it was condensed into a ball in her hand. Xue Tong was asleep in the curve of her lips. They held each other tight. The world wouldn’t move forward. No one could sweep them away.

Gently.

Hands, gentle and slow, drawing up the wetness. They were damp like clay, also like waves clinging to each other. She had fantasized about this skin countless times over four years, but the real touch still made her body tremble uncontrollably. Hair, messy, tangled with tears and lips, yet the heat between them wasn’t blocked by it.

The thought that Xue Tong’s hair was so orderly, tied at the back of her head, infuriated Lu Shimiao. So she reached up to grab it, to yank that hair tie off.

Xue Tong’s long hair tumbled free, its curves blocking even the light, hiding them away. Their movements became cautious. Lu Shimiao caressed with care, as if suppressing some raw, swollen, savage thoughts within her heart. She explored bit by bit, following the sequence Xue Tong liked.

Xue Tong’s breath grew heavier. Her waist started to rise and fall involuntarily. Her nerve threshold dropped lower and lower. Any touch could draw unwilling sounds from her. So she took Lu Shimiao’s earlobe into her mouth, letting her pent-up shyness leak into Little Dog’s ear.

Lu Shimiao was defeated. She began to grope frantically along the curves, then headed towards her destination.

Suddenly, her hand stopped near the finish line.

“What’s this?”

There was a rugged groove on the inner thigh, something that didn’t belong to smooth skin. Lu Shimiao’s fingertip could feel its rise and fall. The rough texture made her doubt the person before her was really Xue Tong—maybe this was just a dream. She froze, curious.

Xue Tong, whose eyes had been shut a second ago, snapped out of it instantly. She grabbed Lu Shimiao’s hand and yanked it away. She didn’t know if this scar would ruin their current state, but she was still tipsy. Her reaction was purely instinctive, her grip strong.

“What is it?”

Lu Shimiao knew very well what this leg should feel like. So a line that didn’t belong to its owner felt strange, unsettling. Lu Shimiao bent her knee, forcing Xue Tong to sit fully in her lap. She shook off Xue Tong’s hand to identify it. She even touched the scar on her own abdomen for comparison.

“Xue Tong, what is this?”

Xue Tong knew that being too smart was hazardous to mental health. Lu Shimiao had already figured it out. She braced her hands on the sofa edge, enveloping the other’s warmth. Gently, she pressed her lips to the corner of Lu Shimiao’s mouth. “What? Is this scar affecting your performance?”

“Xue Tong!”

Lu Shimiao was frantic. That scar represented the past. Four years had passed, and she hadn’t been there. She didn’t know what had happened to Xue Tong. The grief of her absence, and the grief of Xue Tong’s silence—it made her voice urgent, shrill.

“This scar is long! It’s on the femoral artery!”

Xue Tong cupped her face and tried to kiss her to distract her, but Lu Shimiao turned her head away. Lu Shimiao probed, testing, “Isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Hearing the confirmation, Lu Shimiao’s hand turned ice cold. She tried to touch it again, but Xue Tong blocked her. So she tried to look down. But as soon as she lowered her head, Xue Tong lifted it. She broke free and tried again, and was lifted again.

Back and forth. Two streams of tears burst from Lu Shimiao’s eyes.

Lu Shimiao had studied forensic evidence. She knew the exact location of this scar. She knew it was long, precise—right on the femoral artery of the thigh.

The forensic medicine teacher said there are three spots on the body that are instantly fatal: the brainstem, the temple, and the femoral artery.

When she first joined the force, she had done community policing rounds. At a hospital response call, she saw a middle-aged man whose artery was punctured by a broken bottle. Just a small gash. Blood plasma sprayed from his leg. The jet of blood shot half a meter high, gushing for several minutes. Lu Shimiao had never seen blood that red. Even when her own stomach had been slashed, the blood wasn’t that red.

Scarlet, bright scarlet, flooding the floor. The metallic smell of blood was so potent. Even from dozens of meters away, the stench coated her throat.

Patients in the ER screamed in terror. Lu Shimiao’s legs went weak from fright for the first time. She watched three nurses press down on that one leg. After just a few minutes, the man died.

He died, his body completely white. Cause of death: uncontrollable hemorrhage. The community officer said the person who stabbed him didn’t know there was a major artery in the human thigh. It happened right outside the hospital doors. He collapsed just a few steps from the emergency room.

“A bleeding femoral artery sprays even more than a slit throat. I saw it, in my first year after leaving you. I saw it at the hospital. The blood sprayed so high. The doctor was covered in it. The uniform of the officer mentoring me was dyed red. You… you…” Lu Shimiao spoke, but her mind was filled with the images from that hospital day.

She felt a physical reaction. The acid of nausea churned her stomach with her words, making her want to vomit. She held her breath, trying not to gag.

After a few seconds, she broke down in loud sobs. The fiercer she cried, the fiercer her tone became. She pointed at Xue Tong’s leg, snot flying. “So you couldn’t outrun me, not because I got better, right? It was because of this wound, right? Xue Tong!”