Chapter 32

The weather had suddenly turned chilly, yet she wore nothing but that skirt. There was no umbrella in sight, and no telling how long she had been caught in the rain.

Han Xuan parted her lips, seemingly on the verge of calling out Chu Susu’s name, but in the end, she said nothing. She simply lowered her head slowly, as if afraid to meet her gaze.

This fragile, defenseless look—like a little dog with drenched fur—suddenly made Chu Susu feel an inexplicable pang of guilt.

Even though Han Xuan’s uninvited arrival had caught her off guard and irked her a bit, seeing that expression made it impossible to scold her.

Chu Susu pushed down her tangled thoughts and shook the umbrella over the hallway carpet. “What are you doing here?”

“Here, for you.”

Only then did she notice the small item clutched in Han Xuan’s hand—a palm-sized cloth pouch.

Han Xuan pinched it delicately between her fingertips, as if afraid the water on her hands would soak it. “Your USB drive. You left it in the office.”

Chu Susu stepped closer and took it. It was indeed the white USB she commonly used at the office.

She remembered now—there had been a large file that day. The office network was sluggish, and emailing it would’ve taken ages, so she’d asked a colleague to copy it onto the drive before heading out to the press conference.

“How did you end up with it?”

“They said they usually see me hanging around with you, so they asked me to bring it to you after work…”

Chu Susu frowned, sensing something off. “Come in first and change into some dry clothes.”

As soon as she opened the door, Pipi bounded out joyfully. But the moment it spotted Han Xuan, it switched targets, leaping past its owner to rub against her feet.

In that short span, Han Xuan had already sneezed three or four times. Chu Susu ran a bath in the tub. “Go soak. I’ll find some clean clothes for you to change into.”

She grabbed a pajama set she never wore from her room and hung it on the bathroom door. Then she dried off the white USB and plugged it into her computer.

The big file she needed was indeed there, but every attempt to copy it brought up a “file format corrupted” error.

After mulling it over, how could Chu Susu not realize what was going on?

It had been a hectic day, and she wanted a bath too.

About twenty minutes later, Chu Susu figured Han Xuan was probably done. She stood at the door and called out, “Han Xuan, you finished?”

Silence from inside.

She knocked on the door and asked again, “Han Xuan?”

Still no response.

Pipi let out an anxious whine beside her. Chu Susu gripped the doorknob, her heart sinking. “I’m coming in?”

The bathroom was thick with steam, the air humid and heavy with the scent of lavender from the bath bomb unfurling in the tub, turning the water a deep purple.

Han Xuan’s shoulders and below were submerged, her body curled into a ball as she leaned back against the tub, eyes tightly shut, cheeks flushed with a faint pink.

Seeing no reaction, Chu Susu crouched beside her, supporting the back of her neck and gently shaking her. “Wake up.”

The motion was too hasty, splashing water onto her own clothes.

After repeated calls, Han Xuan finally fluttered her eyes open.

“Susu?” Her gaze was hazy, even her hair strands infused with the scent of lavender. “Why’d you come in?”

“You fainted.”

Han Xuan let out an “ah,” then smiled. “Really? It’s fine.”

How could it be fine? Bathing too long could lead to cerebral hypoxia—serious stuff.

But seeing her awake eased Chu Susu’s worries. Only then did she register that Han Xuan was completely naked before her.

Some things were just born to ignite a person’s urge to conquer and destroy—like the pristine white skin right now, a blank canvas begging to be stained.

Unbidden, fantasies arose: what if she smeared it with vivid colors, forcefully?

She really wanted to try.

Chu Susu shoved the dangerous thought aside and quickly averted her eyes from Han Xuan. “I’ll step out. Get dressed.”

As she turned to leave, her wrist was gently caught.

Slender, boneless fingers wrapped around it with the lightest touch, leaving a trail of water droplets.

“Susu.”

Moist heat rose in waves, Han Xuan’s eyes misty, the corners reddened as she called her name.

“Are you worried about me?”

Chu Susu had no choice but to turn back and meet her gaze, her face expressionless as she nodded.

Han Xuan’s voice was soft, yet stubbornly insistent on an answer. “Worried about me… or worried I’ll cause trouble at your place?”

What kind of talk was that?

But now wasn’t the time to discuss it.

“Get out quick.” Chu Susu’s tone hardened unconsciously as she grabbed the pajamas and towel from the door. “If you stay in here longer, what if you faint again?”

Han Xuan pressed her lips together, obediently compliant.

“Dress now.”

Han Xuan took the clothes, but her entire arm trembled uncontrollably, nearly dropping them into the water.

“Sorry…” She struggled to prop herself up, head bowed. “I suddenly have no strength.”

Chu Susu stared at her for a moment, then said six words:

“Stand up. Turn around.”

Han Xuan bit her lip, a touch nervous, but gripped her hand and rose.

Countless water droplets trailed slowly from her neck downward, refracting the room’s light like twinkling stars.

She turned slowly. When Chu Susu opened her eyes, she saw a smooth bare back, skin like congealed cream, flawless as white jade.

Soon, the towel draped over, blocking the view.

Chu Susu’s movements were gentle, merely patting the water from Han Xuan’s body and hair, careful not to let her fingertips brush anywhere improper—though some soft touches were inevitable.

Her own eyes felt misty too, as she wiped and spoke. “You shouldn’t have agreed to bring me that USB.”

Han Xuan was new to the job, only a few months in. She wouldn’t understand these things.

The one who’d handed over the USB that afternoon was Xiao You from the project team—usually thick as thieves with Jack.

Even if the file had issues from the start, since it passed through Han Xuan’s hands, Xiao You could easily pin it on her: say Han Xuan got it wet in the rain and ruined it.

No one could prove otherwise. For all they knew, Xiao You hadn’t even finished the file.

Chu Susu could already picture tomorrow at the office: Xiao You and Jack making a fuss, throwing shade in front of Rebecca.

A low voice came from Han Xuan. “I know.”

“Hm?”

“I know.” She spoke calmly. “Her expression was off when she gave it to me. After handing it over, she hurried away.”

“Then why…” Knowing all that, why still come?

Han Xuan: “I was afraid it’d delay your work.”

She turned around, stray hairs still clinging to her cheek.

“And… I wanted to see you.”

“Even though we work in the same place every day, it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.”

She was merely stating her feelings, yet it pricked Chu Susu’s heart like a silent thorn.

The reason for that feeling? Deliberate distance.

Chu Susu stared into her eyes, catching a faint, almost imperceptible trace of purple.

“I’ve been too busy lately.” She reached out to smooth a stray tuft at Han Xuan’s temple.

Han Xuan nodded. “Yeah, I know. Work comes first, and you’re out running around every day. Must be tough.”

That compliant, unquestioning look—like an innocent little lamb.

But her words weren’t so innocent.

“Plus, I heard you’re about to take over Jack’s position.”

Chu Susu furrowed her brow. “How’d you know?”

Their departments were totally separate; work shouldn’t overlap at all. And she’d never mentioned it.

“Rumors. Didn’t Jack get robbed and end up in the hospital? Delayed a ton of work. Everyone’s gossiping privately.”

True, the project team was buzzing with it—word spreading made sense.

Han Xuan smiled. Under Chu Susu’s gaze, she slowly buttoned the pajamas, deliberately skipping the top two, leaving the collar open to cast an ambiguous shadow.

“Someone detestable got their comeuppance.” she said. “Congrats.”

No need for congrats—Chu Susu had never taken Jack seriously enough to gloat over his misfortune.

She reached for Han Xuan’s forehead and felt it. “Never mind that. I’m more worried you’re running a fever.”

Ever since earlier, Han Xuan’s face had been alarmingly flushed. Touching it now felt scorching enough to fry an egg.

Sure, body temp rose after a bath, but not this hot.

That odd assertive edge in Han Xuan’s tone earlier felt strange, but Chu Susu chalked it up to the fever. People got delirious when sick—it was normal.

Staying in the bathroom to talk wasn’t ideal, so she told Han Xuan to go sit on the sofa, fetched a thermometer, and casually checked if there was any fever-reducing medicine at home.

You should’ve sent me a WeChat message before you came.

Chu Susu looked at the person huddled into a ball under the blanket and sighed, “If I had driven to pick you up, you wouldn’t have gotten soaked in the rain.”

Han Xuan cradled a glass of hot water in her hands, lowering her head to take a sip: “I’ve sent it.”

Her voice was very soft, like a child who had done something wrong.

It was as if the person who had just smiled and uttered the words “retribution” was someone else.

Chu Susu was stunned upon hearing this, her heart filled with mixed emotions.

She did indeed see a few unread messages, but she didn’t even open them. She had no idea that Han Xuan would come straight to her door because of this, solely to hand that thing over to her.

Han Xuan lightly pursed her lips, a hint of cautious flattery in her tone: “You’ve been busy outside for so long—are you hungry now? I’ll make dinner for you.”

Chu Susu put on a stern face, her beautiful eyes raised slightly, and said coldly to her: “You’re sick—why are you still cooking? Alright, it’s time to check the thermometer.”

“But…”

Be obedient.

The mercury thermometer reads 38.5 degrees. Sure enough, it’s a fever.

Is there anywhere that feels uncomfortable?

Han Xuan knelt on the sofa, dazedly grasping Chu Susu’s cool palm and pressing it against her own collarbone.

The collar buttons there remained wantonly unfastened, while her skin continued to flush red inch by inch.

“Hot,” she said.