Han Xuan had always been the quiet and reserved type, never speaking so much in front of Chu Susu before.
Her tone was calm and natural, as if she were recounting something that had nothing to do with her. Even when mentioning those unpleasant past experiences of being ostracized, she didn’t infuse them with much emotion.
It was as if she had grown numb to it.
After finishing her story, Han Xuan seemed to have a dry throat and swallowed some saliva.
The water dispenser was right there beside her, but she didn’t go to get a drink. Instead, she silently endured it, seemingly waiting for the other’s response.
After a few days apart, that hoodie seemed even looser on Han Xuan’s frame. Chu Susu once again cast her gaze toward her fair and delicate collarbone.
Her figure was graceful, and even her sitting posture resembled that of an elegant yet reserved white swan.
But the air seemed filled with particles of awkwardness and heaviness, weighing down the swan’s head so it couldn’t lift up, exposing that stretch of pristine skin—as if to say, do whatever you want with me, kill or cut as you please.
Chu Susu didn’t say anything. She suddenly stood up, poured a cup of warm water, and placed it in front of her.
Han Xuan looked up in slight surprise. The next second, a hand rested on top of her head, gently stroking in the direction of her hair growth.
She saw Chu Susu squat down, bringing herself level with Han Xuan who was sitting in the chair. The natural curve at the corner of her eyes drooped slightly with her expression, her pupils shimmering with a color named pity—like light refracted through glass candy wrapper, warm yet not blinding.
“Can I hug you?” Chu Susu asked.
Without a word from Han Xuan after a moment, she took the initiative and did so.
The hand lingering on her hair pulled her in, gently drawing the unprepared girl into her embrace. Her forehead just happened to press against Chu Susu’s neck, passively burying into it.
Chu Susu’s chin rested on her shoulder as she silently patted Han Xuan’s back.
She had never encountered something like this, but she knew the other might not need verbal comfort.
Just like applying medicine to a fresh wound might help it heal, but for skin that had long scabbed over into scars, it was no longer necessary.
Soon after, she caught the scent wafting from Han Xuan’s clothes—no, from her skin. It was a fresh grass-and-wood aroma. The base note carried a subtle, unintentional sweetness, like a kitten’s paw teasingly scratching at someone close, now and then.
Though Han Xuan was one or two centimeters taller than her, her frame was excessively slender. Any clothes on her hung loose and empty; every movement was like a willow swaying in the wind.
At this moment, Chu Susu could confirm it even more. She hadn’t hugged Han Xuan too tightly, yet she still felt the other’s soft body and the bony joints beneath the flesh that still managed to poke uncomfortably.
“You’re too skinny,” she sighed. “You need to eat more.”
Little dog Pipi quietly poked its head out from behind the bedroom wall and sneaked closer.
It seemed to always accurately sense human emotions. With its short little legs, it obediently stopped at Han Xuan’s feet and placed one paw on her pure white sock.
Its round eyes seemed to say, don’t be sad anymore.
Chu Susu couldn’t see Han Xuan’s expression, only feeling her shoulders tremble slightly.
“Do I not have to leave?”
“Of course not,” Chu Susu said.
“But…”
“No buts.”
Han Xuan leaned her body in even lower, almost entirely burying herself in Chu Susu’s embrace. Even interrupted, she persisted in finishing her sentence: “But every time I meet you, I cause you trouble.”
“Because of me, your ex-girlfriend thought you were cheating; because of me, your friend got scared off and missed the appointment…”
“Han Xuan.” Chu Susu said—this seemed to be the first time she had called the other’s name so seriously in her memory. “Look at me.”
She held Han Xuan’s shoulders and slowly pushed her back, their eyes meeting, full of patience:
“Whose house is this?”
“Yours.”
“I’m the owner, so doesn’t what I say go?”
“Yes.”
“Good, then listen to me. You can stay as long as you want, even the whole night. I won’t kick you out.”
Pipi let out a couple of woofs, as if echoing its owner’s words.
Chu Susu raised her hand to caress Han Xuan’s cheek, tucking the disheveled strands of hair behind her ear.
“I don’t believe those boring rumors.”
Han Xuan stared at her in a daze, her nose tip red like a little reindeer on Christmas.
She was so adorable that Chu Susu playfully poked her fingertip on it with a smile: “Hurry and eat, or it’ll get cold.”
She saw the little lamb sheep nod slowly in a completely unguarded manner.
…
That night, Han Xuan still didn’t stay over. Chu Susu hadn’t expected her to anyway—after all, they weren’t at that stage yet.
Moreover, this little lamb was extremely restrained in her interactions with others and naturally wouldn’t make such a request that would trouble someone.
After dinner, Han Xuan took the initiative to clean the kitchen and dining table. When Chu Susu offered to drive her back, she refused.
“The subway is fine, it’s not far.”
In the end, Chu Susu only walked her to the nearest subway station.
When she got home and was changing shoes, Pipi suddenly came bounding over excitedly, something in its mouth.
“What’s up?” Chu Susu rubbed its little head. “What’s this?”
Pipi just kept woofing nonstop.
Clamped in its mouth was a palm-sized piece of yellowish cardstock, looking like it had been torn from some delivery box.
Chu Susu thought it was trash that had fallen somewhere and was about to throw it away when she noticed something faintly written on it in pencil.
She brought the paper closer and saw it was a drawing.
It was a woman’s side profile, long hair pinned up with a metal clip, gaze fixed lazily this way, holding a rose in her hand.
The signature was in neat handwriting:
“Susu side portrait, at home.
Han Xuan, July 27th.”
The action had been so swift that Chu Susu hadn’t even noticed when she had sketched it.
She took a photo of the drawing and sent it to Han Xuan via WeChat: “Thank you, I really like it.”
Chu Susu placed the little paper on the second shelf of the living room display rack, where it stood steadily.
It was late, so she didn’t chat much more with Han Xuan. She scrolled through the chat, long-pressed for two seconds, and forwarded the photo of the little paper to Zhou Xiaoying.
The other hadn’t slept and replied with a question mark: “?”
She clearly recognized it was a drawing of Chu Susu, but didn’t know who Han Xuan was.
“Help me out,” Chu Susu said. “Look into someone named Han Xuan, 22 years old, just graduated from Imperial Capital Academy of Fine Arts this year.”
Zhou Xiaoying: “Sure, but who’s this person?”
Chu Susu: “Little lamb.”
Zhou Xiaoying: “The one from the nightclub that night? Why are you checking on her?”
Chu Susu was vague and didn’t reveal what Han Xuan had told her today: “Just help me look into it. See if anything special happened to her during university, or even before that.”
Seeing she didn’t want to say, Zhou Xiaoying didn’t press: “OK, urgent?”
“Not urgent, just check when you have time. Thanks.”
She sent over a small red envelope, but Zhou Xiaoying didn’t accept it: “Why send money? Being formal with me? If you want to thank me, help me with something instead.”
Chu Susu: “What?”
Zhou Xiaoying: “There was a guy who was chatting pretty well with Li Le’er before, and it seems like there’s been progress in the last couple days.”
Chu Susu: “So?”
Zhou Xiaoying: “Ask them how far along they are. Oh, and don’t say I told you to ask.”
Chu Susu: “Fun fact, Li Le’er likes guys. I suggest you don’t overthink if there’s no need lol.”
Zhou Xiaoying: “Stop, just say if you’ll help or not.”
Chu Susu didn’t want to get involved in her friends’ affairs—both sides were good friends, and if Li Le’er and Zhou Xiaoying ended up fighting over something, she’d be stuck in the middle, in a tough spot.
But considering Zhou Xiaoying was helping her first, and if Li Le’er really had a boyfriend, it might make Zhou Xiaoying give up, she agreed: “Deal.”
It was about bedtime. After finishing her skincare, Chu Susu turned off the lights, lay on the bed, and suddenly the image of Han Xuan’s face—restrained yet hurt when recounting her past—flashed in her mind.
It was so pitiable that it nearly softened her heart.
Even the most ordinary blink struck right at her aesthetic sweet spot.
From their interactions so far, Chu Susu was genuinely interested in Han Xuan, but she hadn’t decided yet whether to pursue it or just remain friends.
If it were anyone else, she would have gone straight for it by now, and who knows how far they’d have progressed.
But the problem was, Han Xuan was different from others.
She had never met someone like this. Apart from perfectly matching her type preferences, Han Xuan was immature, green yet resilient—like reeds swaying in the wind, abandoned in a corner but still growing stubbornly on her own.
Because of that, thinking of Han Xuan’s sincere eyes when sharing her past stirred an inexplicable sense of guilt in Chu Susu, making her hesitate about getting more involved.
That said, one thing at a time—she didn’t fully believe what Han Xuan had said.
Though Chu Susu hadn’t witnessed such things firsthand, she had seen plenty of news online. Innocent kids becoming targets of isolation due to various factors, leading to bullying incidents, was all too common.
But Xu Jiao’s reaction upon seeing Han Xuan back then had been way too intense, making her always unable to stop thinking back on it. If she had to put it into words, Xu Jiao actually seemed more like the “victim.”
And at the end of the day, this whole thing boiled down to feudal superstitions—like “sweeping star” or “the star that kills moms”…
When Han Xuan was little, it was understandable for the older neighbors to gossip like that. But Chu Susu didn’t believe there could be so many young people in university who still bought into that nonsense.
This was the 21st century! Not some ancient era.
What puzzled her even more was… Han Xuan was an art student.
From what Chu Susu knew, the cost of training art students was sky-high. Art supplies weren’t cheap to begin with, and for top schools like the Imperial Capital Academy of Fine Arts, the competition was fierce. Art students from all over the country fought to get in, which fueled the demand for expensive cram classes… Not everyone could afford it.
Han Xuan had said she relied on help from relatives to attend school. On top of that, she part-timed at a pet shop, dressed simply, and it was clear her family’s financial situation was just average.
These two points clearly contradicted each other.
Of course, the world was vast with all sorts of wonders—plenty of things Chu Susu didn’t know about. She couldn’t be sure if Han Xuan was lying; she’d have to see what Zhou Xiaoying could dig up.
With that in mind, Chu Susu lazily rolled over and glanced at her phone to check for new messages.
After Xu Jiao had lost her composure and left, she’d quickly sent a WeChat asking what was going on, but there still hadn’t been a reply.
Whatever. Time for bed.
Tomorrow she was joining a new project group, led by that Jack guy she didn’t get along with. She needed to get some good rest.
Before turning off her phone, Chu Susu checked if that constellation blogger called Ursa Major had posted any updates.
[@BetaUrsaeMajoris: Today’s horoscope, released right on time. Everyone, go check it out.]
Ever since the content from this account had proven accurate a few times, Chu Susu had gotten into the habit of peeking at it. She wouldn’t say she fully believed it, but it didn’t hurt to look.
Ignoring all the jargon she didn’t understand, she only noticed one line.
[Gemini Rising babies, give this song a listen—it’ll help soothe your mind and dispel the anxiety from Mercury retrograde.]
Chu Susu tapped play without a second thought, then drifted off to sleep with the music playing.
