Chapter 44

Both arms linked around Lu Shimiao’s neck, Xue Tong rested her body against her. “Considering you made me cry from pleasure… can we just hold each other like this for a while?”

Lu Shimiao answered, “Okay.”

The two of them lay quietly on the bed.

Silently, Xue Tong leaned her head on Lu Shimiao’s shoulder, hiding her consciousness that hadn’t fully sobered. She skipped the crying, just let the tears fall. She had almost forgotten this feeling. This emptiness after extreme pleasure. It flashed back between summers. Two bodies, marked by each other, meeting again, felt like a pre-death fantasy.

Just moments ago, she’d been like a kite on a string, drifting back and forth in the air. The person on the ground chasing, pulling, then stopping. Her own hands—one moment on shoulders, the next on the bedsheets. She wanted to touch a face but feared her nails might scratch skin. She wanted to brace against the wall but found it too cold. In the end, she could only raise them to her mouth and bite down.

A hidden inferno of wild debauchery erupted in the chaos. She floated down, weightless. The fire fell away from her body. Her soul was dissected. She couldn’t find the exit. Her soul, like dust, was blown sky-high by this wind. In a state between life and death. A strange, magnificent beauty condensed in her vision. She saw these oases burned to black smoke by a single fire—explosive, yet tender.

She knew Lu Shimiao was right in front of her.

So she had called Lu Shimiao’s name just then. Called it through gritted teeth. Even clutched her collar in complaint.

But even calling the name, Xue Tong heard no answer. She didn’t need to hear one.

She was just pleading for rescue. A thought flashed over and over in her mind—Bury me, Lu Shimiao. Before it all turns red. Bury me in this land. Possess me completely. Don’t let cracks appear in the sky again. Don’t let the void’s alarm bells ring. Don’t let everything come crashing down.

Now, desolation filled her.

Like the feeling after Spring Festival—the courtyard littered with firework debris, incense still burning unextinguished at the Mazu temple. Yesterday, the house was full of guests. Tonight, she hadn’t even dared pull back the curtains. Why must joy be followed by such wreckage? Why did this hollow feeling feel like sand, like water? Or like a balloon slowly deflating, leaking air without a struggle.

Lu Shimiao was clearly right in front of her.

Yet she kept thinking of that grand, magnificent dream.

“My stamina is great! We can keep going!” Lu Shimiao chuckled, turned over to wrap her arms around Xue Tong, and rested her chin on the top of her head.

“I think you should understand the concept of delayed gratification,” Xue Tong said, having no strength left. She didn’t move, didn’t even speed up her breathing.

“Isn’t four years delayed enough?” Lu Shimiao was indignant, her voice carrying a hint of grievance.

…

Xue Tong was silent. She rolled over, turning her back to Lu Shimiao.

Even more desolate.

It suddenly reminded Xue Tong of the third year after Lu Shimiao left.

Hong Kong was hit by Typhoon Signal No. 8 again. She had returned to normal police life. After work, she sat on the rug watching cartoons, imitating the way Lu Shimiao used to watch TV. That cartoon was downloaded by Lu Shimiao before she left Hong Kong. They had promised to finish it together.

During her six months in Spain, she often thought about this cartoon. She just never expected to open it again three years later.

Xue Tong rarely watched cartoons. She watched very carefully, trying to understand every line of dialogue. She wondered if Lu Shimiao had seen this part, or how she had watched it. Xue Tong’s emotions rose and fell with the plot.

Suddenly, lightning struck across the equator’s sky. The typhoon howled. The floor’s circuit breaker tripped.

The cartoon stopped abruptly. Only a pitch-black screen remained, and a reflection—a face smiling through tears.

Xue Tong was sitting very close to the TV screen. She stared blankly at that reflection, frightened, then reached up to touch her own tears. She suddenly realized her longing for Lu Shimiao was intense and real.

Daring is always ten thousand times more important than loving. She didn’t know when Lu Shimiao would ever understand that.

“I’m tired,” Xue Tong said.

“Did I hurt you?” Lu Shimiao sensed the other’s low mood, but didn’t understand why she felt so lost.

“No.”

“But you seem unhappy,” Lu Shimiao reached to the foot of the bed to pull up the blanket, covering Xue Tong. She was only wearing a T-shirt, looking so empty underneath.

“I think you should say something else to me,” Xue Tong pointed Lu Shimiao towards a clear path.

“Something else?” Lu Shimiao lay flat, staring at the ceiling.

Her mind couldn’t find any other words.

Her thoughts were filled with tonight. Why had it turned into this again…? Was it for some uncontrollable desire? Or her possessiveness over Xue Tong? Or four years of unwillingness to let go? Or wanting Xue Tong to properly make it up to her?

None of the above. It was simply because Xue Tong, in a moment of bare helplessness, had softly called her name. Her heart shattered. Shattered magnificently. Shattered in the lost forest, where there were no bird songs, only herself, standing in silence. When Xue Tong climaxed, she had covered her mouth and cried, shedding more tears than any other fluid from her body. When she called Lu Shimiao’s name, it was just the name, not intimate enough. Like there was a distance between them.

How far was the distance?

To Lu Shimiao, it felt even further than the distance between Hong Kong and Shanghai.

Speaking of the past, they had just slept together, kissed, but never said they liked each other. She had never confessed to Xue Tong. At twenty-three, she hadn’t dared. And now, she still didn’t dare.

Xue Tong had never said she liked her, either. Yet they had accepted the compatibility of their bodies just like that. Tacitly agreed not to speak of the future.

Xue Tong drank. Xue Tong cried hard. Xue Tong told her not to go. Lu Shimiao never asked Xue Tong for a reason. She didn’t know from what angle to ask, or what title to use to ask.

She couldn’t imagine how to face Xue Tong in the future. Especially after tonight, now that she knew Xue Tong’s reason for leaving back then might be official duty… She couldn’t point the blame at Xue Tong. She couldn’t even resent Xue Tong for being heartless. Those ambiguous memories had no clear reason. So now, she couldn’t sort them out either.

During her year in Hong Kong, Lu Shimiao knew very well what kind of person Xue Tong was.

Xue Tong was a woman of independent consciousness. This standard was a level above mere independence. It wasn’t just about living alone.

Xue Tong had her own emotional system. Her self-control and adjustment function was always maxed out. She never casually vented her emotions.

Today, if Li Siting hadn’t given her leave, and if she hadn’t happened to come back for luggage, Lu Shimiao was certain she would never have seen those bottles of alcohol filling the room. She would never have seen a drunk Xue Tong. Xue Tong’s tears only existed in the dark of night and in unfinished dreams.

What faced Lu Shimiao was only that beautiful photo Lili sent to her phone—Xue Tong standing on the podium, looking calm and composed. Xue Tong at the shooting range, gripping a gun.

If there was a choice between career and family, Xue Tong would analyze it and then decide. She wouldn’t give up family just to prove her independence. Xue Tong wasn’t that kind of person.

Love didn’t hold much meaning for Xue Tong. Lu Shimiao knew that. To become Superintendent of the Forensic Science Division, twenty-nine-year-old Xue Tong had put in tremendous effort. Promotion in the Hong Kong Police Force was very difficult. Besides merit, it required seniority. Yet she had managed to reach a point where no one could find fault. Xue Tong had told her before: marriage had little significance for her. People who truly found love were a tiny minority. Love would be disillusioned by the grind of life. It always would.

That’s right.

Emotional impulse was more important than love. A sudden burst of hormones stimulated physiological reactions. It provided excitement in a short time, could help find meaning in life. So sometimes people dated not for money, not for looks, not for a future. But for the emotional value it brought.

And those who dated for a future were just finding a way out of a barren life. They were flowers needing a dependent relationship. Once they lost that soil, they would quickly wither.

Unfortunately, Xue Tong wasn’t like that.

Xue Tong always loved herself first.

In many ways, Xue Tong was someone forever loyal to her own feelings.

That’s why, when she wanted to kiss, she said, “Let’s kiss.”

When she wanted it, she said, “Let’s do it.”

Even the sounds she held back in bed—it was just loyalty to her own sense of shame. The tears were just a physical instinct.

Xue Tong spent a lot of time alone, but she never felt sorrow from solitude. Instead, she enjoyed loneliness with self-consistency and harmony. She could sit in front of the TV playing games all day, then write a very long game review. Not for anyone else to read, just for her own pleasure.

Her constant weight, her strict carb and sugar control. Sometimes Lu Shimiao felt Xue Tong was as disciplined as an iron man.

When Xue Tong talked about childbirth and the institution of marriage, she would add:

“The childbearing system and the marriage system are just a utopia for women.”

“The best way for a woman to see the truth is to get married. After making that mistake, you’ll understand: the protagonists of this world are not divided by male or female. Dependence only makes one feel paranoid and insecure.”

Xue Tong didn’t need an emotional pillar. She didn’t even need marriage, or childbirth.

But Xue Tong had physical needs.

So Lu Shimiao categorized herself as a very cooperative and obedient tool.

So whenever they weren’t having sex, the bubble of the dream popped. The beam holding up the dream vanished into the sky, leaving a vast, white emptiness. Lu Shimiao felt it was okay to sink into this excuse. After all, it always came with a fantasy filter. As soon as she flew away from Hong Kong, this fragile shackle would unlock itself.

“All fascinating people are loved; that is the secret of their charm.”

Xue Tong’s aura was very strong. Many superintendents from various departments had expressed their feelings for her. Lu Shimiao had seen it many times in Hong Kong. But Xue Tong would just accept the gift, then politely refuse with high emotional intelligence, quickly keeping her distance, letting the relationship continue as friendship.

So… what kind of partner would such a fascinating Xue Tong need?

What kind of companionship form would she screen for in a partner? It probably wasn’t financial. Xue Tong had plenty of money. And Xue Tong didn’t need extra emotional value. Lu Shimiao truly couldn’t imagine what kind of person Xue Tong would like.

So she had made up many excuses for herself. In love, she fabricated various strange reasons to convince herself. For example: Qiu Wen could never, in her lifetime, admit she had a lesbian daughter. Her dad would go berserk over it. Her career might be severely impacted.

By discarding the “life” part, she could indeed be wild. But when it was quiet like this, resting in Xue Tong’s arms, she would think: What exactly does all this count as…? Maybe it counts as nothing.

Because she couldn’t control this Xue Tong.

To be precise, Xue Tong could never be tamed by anyone.

“Goodnight,” Lu Shimiao finally chose to end the conversation with just a goodnight.

Just goodnight.

Xue Tong’s mind had been blank, waiting for Lu Shimiao to give a different answer. In the end, there was only goodnight.

Xue Tong suddenly got up from the bed. She sat beside Lu Shimiao, her tone relatively calm.

“You don’t want to know why I came back?” Xue Tong was only wearing a T-shirt. So when she got up and moved away, Lu Shimiao felt a sudden cold, damp sensation on her legs. Yet Xue Tong had chosen this moment for a serious topic.

“…” Lu Shimiao turned her head to find a wet wipe, avoiding Xue Tong’s gaze.

Seeing this reaction, Xue Tong’s face quickly went cold. She just sat there blankly for a moment, then got up to rummage through the closet for underwear and put on her sleep pants.

“I came to Shanghai for you.”

“Even if you don’t want to know, or don’t want to ask, and still choose to evade, I respect your way of expression,” Xue Tong’s voice grew colder, even as she started walking towards the bedroom door.

“But I feel it’s necessary to tell you, because you are twenty-seven years old now. I don’t want you to see tonight as an indulgence after alcohol. I don’t play the ‘drunk and reckless’ game, and I’m not your friend with benefits.”

“However, it’s okay. We’re both adults. I accept your perspective. You still have the right to leave. Your luggage is downstairs.”

With that, Xue Tong turned to go.

“I… didn’t… Xue Tong, I didn’t,” Lu Shimiao suddenly panicked. She jumped out of bed to grab Xue Tong’s hand, but Xue Tong spun around, extending her arm to block her. They were separated by a distance, just looking at each other.

After a moment, Xue Tong closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

She really didn’t want to have a serious negotiation right after they had been intimate. It left her feeling physically and mentally exhausted. There was even a bitter, hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow feeling after extreme joy.

She even started blaming herself. Why did she have to make Lu Shimiao stay while she was drunk? Clearly, this could have happened later. Maybe the timing now was wrong.

But things had already happened. She had to make Lu Shimiao understand their current situation. She could no longer let Lu Shimiao keep avoiding it.

She couldn’t stay a hostage in this ambiguous game forever.

Either she fired the shot.

Or Lu Shimiao fired the shot.

“My sudden departure four years ago, and my sudden appearance now—it’s truly unfair to you,” she began.

“So I can accept any dissatisfaction or resentment you have towards me.”

“But Lu Shimiao… in all fairness, even if I hadn’t left back then, the separation would still have happened. Your flight would still have taken off. It wouldn’t have changed whether I left or not.”

Xue Tong finished and just chuckled lightly. “Right?”

“But I attributed the reason you left to your impending university graduation. You needed time to try out your own life. You might have a better life.”

“I even placed all the blame for our separation on myself. I thought… probably the fault was mostly my leaving, making you leave under a misunderstanding. Or maybe I never clearly expressed my thoughts to you.”

“I knew Hong Kong couldn’t keep you,” Xue Tong’s tone hid helplessness. “And I never thought you should be kept by Hong Kong.”

“So I applied for a work opportunity in Shanghai. I came to your city. Of course, you don’t need to be anxious about this. Because I have my career. I have my own life. I don’t need you to take responsibility for me.”

Lu Shimiao just listened, so scared she wanted to reach out and hug Xue Tong.

But she was blocked again.

“Some things I can say to you twice, three times. I can give you countless chances to make mistakes. I have enough patience for you.”

“But some things, I will absolutely never say a second time. I might not even say them once. You might think I’m cruel like this, but with your type, I have no other way.” Xue Tong gave a bitter smile.

“What was our relationship in Hong Kong?” Xue Tong pointed a finger at Lu Shimiao’s chest. “It was the relationship between an overly ambiguous instructor and student.”

“I’ll give you time. Figure out what relationship we have right now.” She pointed to the bed. “But before you figure it out, we’re sleeping in separate rooms.”