Chapter 86: Yi An

In front of her, Chu Susu always didn’t want to—or rather, didn’t dare to—lie.

It was probably because she wasn’t an ordinary person. Chu Susu always had a feeling that even if she lied ever so convincingly, she would still see right through it.

She stared at the other woman for a moment without speaking, and Han Xuan seemed to understand what she was thinking.

“I’m not prying into your privacy,” she said with a hint of concern. “Did something happen? If I can help, just tell me.”

The sincerity in her eyes didn’t seem feigned.

Chu Susu pondered for a moment with furrowed brows and ultimately decided she couldn’t keep this from Han Xuan.

After all, from Qiao Qian’s words, it seemed like she’d heard something and knew Han Xuan had something unusual about her.

And that was undoubtedly worth thinking deeply about.

Since Chu Susu had never mentioned this to Qiao Qian or anyone else, how did she know?

Moreover, that look in Qiao Qian’s eyes when they left always sent chills down her spine. Every time she recalled it, her heart felt uneasy.

It had been several days since Qiao Qian called them to the bar. During that time, both Chu Susu and Li Le’er had proactively messaged her, but she never replied and hadn’t updated her Moments or any other status.

Li Le’er was really worried, so she went back to that bar to check, but didn’t run into Qiao Qian.

She was extremely anxious, even resorting to asking the promoters there if they knew anything about what had happened to Qiao Qian. But no matter how she asked, they just shook their heads, saying they couldn’t disclose customer privacy.

Chu Susu and Zhou Xiaoying couldn’t reach her either, so they called her workplace, only to be told that Qiao Qian had quit not long ago.

In short, it was like she’d vanished into thin air, which was very worrying.

Chu Susu slowly recounted the events to Han Xuan, then explained at the end,

“That day, I refused her request, and after that, I haven’t been able to contact her. I don’t know how she’s doing now.”

Han Xuan listened quietly without offering any opinions. She just nodded occasionally, then asked, “Do you want me to help her?”

“. . . Of course not.”

Even if it were Chu Susu herself in this situation, she wouldn’t turn to Han Xuan for help.

First of all, adults should have the ability to handle their own affairs. If she couldn’t repay it, why borrow so much in the first place?

Secondly, she had witnessed the side effects of Han Xuan’s abilities. It would be too much to make Han Xuan pay for Qiao Qian’s mistakes.

But Han Xuan seemed utterly unconcerned, merely humming, “If no one helps her, she might end up in a very difficult situation.”

Chu Susu sighed. “That’s just how it is; nothing to be done.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to help Qiao Qian; it was just her attitude. . .

The old Qiao Qian wasn’t like this. Whenever Chu Susu needed help, she would always step up without hesitation.

She remembered one time when Pipi suddenly had food poisoning, and Chu Susu’s car happened to be in the shop for maintenance.

It was 2 a.m., public transport had long stopped, and no taxis were available—the situation was extremely urgent.

Food poisoning could be fatal for pets; without prompt treatment, it might not pull through.

Qiao Qian had helped her that time. She hadn’t even changed out of her pajamas, loyally getting out of bed to take her and Pipi to the pet hospital, without a single complaint the whole way.

Chu Susu had never forgotten Qiao Qian’s kindness to her, which was why, upon hearing she was in trouble, she transferred the money without a second thought.

If Qiao Qian hadn’t hidden it from her and Li Le’er this time, but explained everything clearly, Chu Susu definitely wouldn’t have stood by. She would even have been prepared to lend her the money.

But Qiao Qian’s intentions weren’t pure, and the threats and concealment were truly disheartening.

At this point, Chu Susu’s voice grew a bit low:

“Qiao Qian probably hasn’t gotten into gambling or drugs. Owing so much money is likely from illegal compound interest. I asked a few lawyer friends; they’ve handled such cases before. It shouldn’t be too hard to sue.”

In her spare time, she’d made several calls to get the details and left messages for Qiao Qian, saying that if she needed it, she could take her to see those lawyers right away.

But there’d been no reply from her; who knew what her situation was now.

Han Xuan nodded thoughtfully upon hearing this. “You suspect there’s something wrong with that bar, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s just a baseless guess. Later, Le’er went there and didn’t see Qiao Qian again, so maybe it was just my imagination.”

Han Xuan said, “It might not be.”

“Hm?”

“Not many people know my secret—aside from you, my family, and the Hunters.”

“You mean…”

“Maybe Qiao Qian coincidentally ran into a Hunter somehow. If you feel something’s off about that bar, then it’s very possible the key lies there.”

As she said this, Chu Susu’s heart jolted in shock. “Qiao Qian is connected to a Hunter?”

“Yeah, possibly.”

Seeing the worry in her eyes, Han Xuan smiled nonchalantly,

“Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”

“How could I let you?” Chu Susu shook her head.

This had nothing to do with Han Xuan; how could she drag her into it?

But just as she was about to continue, Han Xuan cut her off.

“I wasn’t finished.”

She playfully stuck out her tongue, a mischievous glint suddenly sparkling in her eyes.

This expression wasn’t often seen on Han Xuan’s face—it was more lively than usual, less restrained.

Suddenly, Han Xuan reached out, her hand landing on the table, on Chu Susu’s wrist.

“I’ll handle it, but you come with me, okay?”

Her fingertip was cool against her wrist bone—no extra movements, yet it inexplicably tickled.

Han Xuan rarely touched her so boldly.

The gesture instantly reminded Chu Susu of that night in the Magic City hotel, when Han Xuan had placed her hand on her body like this, asking her countless times.

“Does it feel good here?”

“What about here? Do you like it?”

Fragmented sounds and images flashed before her eyes, weaving into blushing, heart-pounding scenes.

Chu Susu’s cheeks heated up at once. She quickly turned her head away, not wanting Han Xuan to see her current expression.

Then, as if scalded, she yanked her hand back like lightning.

These instinctive reactions left her annoyed with herself. She couldn’t help wondering why, after so long, she still couldn’t forget that night—and why it popped into her mind now and then.

Like a kid who’s never been in love.

Chu Susu cleared her throat, asking unnaturally in a low voice, “How am I supposed to accompany you?”

Han Xuan didn’t answer, just propping her chin and looking at her with interest.

Chu Susu felt inexplicably guilty. “. . . Why are you staring at me?”

“Your face seems a bit red,” Han Xuan said softly. “Is the indoor heating too strong?”

It was a minus ten degrees winter day. Even with the office heater on full, who would complain of heat—especially since she’d opened the window for some air.

Everyone knew exactly why.

A trace of embarrassment at being seen through flashed across Chu Susu’s cheeks. She took a deep breath to calm herself, pushing away those stray thoughts.

“You’re seeing things.”

She said expressionlessly, turning to pick up her water cup and take a sip, as if to cover something up.

“Oh…”

Han Xuan drew out the sound. “I thought you were shy.”

Chu Susu nearly spat out the water in her mouth.

She barely swallowed it down, then pursed her lips, eyes wide as she glared at her. “Why would I be shy?”

Though her conviction wasn’t all that strong.

Was Han Xuan teasing her?

The other woman blinked, suddenly looking a bit at a loss.

As if the earlier teasing was just an illusion, this quick shift in mood made Chu Susu wonder if she’d seen wrong.

Han Xuan answered very softly, almost like she was afraid of making Chu Susu mad, her voice like a mosquito’s hum:

“I thought… when someone is pursuing another person, they’d get shy easily…”

Her volume trailed off until it was barely audible.

Even so, Chu Susu caught a hint of grievance in her words.

Thinking back, it was true.

She’d been the one to proactively say she planned to pursue her, but things kept getting in the way afterward, making it hard to take any real action.

Their first date ended with a Hunter showing up at the door. That night, Han Xuan’s weakened state lingered in her mind, unforgettable.

Then there was the work trip to Jiang City for a meeting.

The design team was often out for study trips too. By the time Chu Susu had free time, Han Xuan wasn’t in the Imperial Capital anymore.

So despite living under the same roof, their interactions lately had been limited to occasional shared lunches.

Chu Susu fell silent, thought for a moment, then suddenly pulled out a bag from under the table.

“For you.”

Her voice was a bit muffled as she said it.

“I bought it a long time ago, planning to give it to you on our second date. But…”

That was an exquisitely packaged paper bag, printed with the LOGO of a niche accessory brand.

What was inside remained unknown for now, but it was clearly a carefully selected gift.

“But last time was really too frightening. I can’t help worrying that if we do anything together, it’ll give the Hunter an opening.”

In fact, she knew full well that the Hunter had shown up that day simply because it happened to be Han Xuan’s weak day—it had nothing whatsoever to do with what they had done that day.

Yet Chu Susu still couldn’t shake her unease.

It was an awful feeling, like Han Xuan’s safety was entirely pinned on her. The moment she betrayed and opened the door, those Hunters could barge right in and hurt Han Xuan without any obstruction.

And that was the last thing Chu Susu wanted.

Though she hated to admit it, she was indeed afraid—deeply so, even resentful.

Not of the burdens Han Xuan carried, but of herself becoming the path others used to harm Han Xuan, the chink in her armor.

A sharp blade, even.

“…So we’ve only gone on one date?”

Her train of thought was broken by a crisp voice laced with faint melancholy. Han Xuan’s eyes shimmered with moisture, rippling like waves.

Then, in the softest whisper:

“In my heart, every time I see you is a date.”