Chapter 92: Shan Li

That night, Chu Susu didn’t know how she finally fell asleep. She only knew she was so exhausted that she couldn’t even lift her eyelids, completely drained of energy.

Her only thought was why Han Xuan, who had gone through the exact same experience, wasn’t showing the same reaction.

Instead, she was getting more and more excited, endlessly tireless.

The next day was the weekend, no need to get up early for work.

Even after sleeping in a bit, her usual biological clock still had Chu Susu opening her eyes before ten o’clock.

She hadn’t quite shaken off the fatigue yet. It wasn’t until she’d lain in bed for another half a minute that she recalled everything that had happened between them.

Logical in a way, yet utterly unbelievable.

Chu Susu propped herself up and sat, pondering for a long time but still not understanding why Han Xuan had ended up taking the lead…

Grinding tofu was mutual, after all—not one side giving to the other. Even with a faint sense of shame, she didn’t dwell on it too much. She just secretly annoyed herself for being overly sensitive.

But at Han Yao’s birthday party, Han Xuan had finished much quicker…

Why was it different this time?

The spot beside Chu Susu was already empty, the sheets cool to the touch. Clearly, Han Xuan had been up for a while.

The bedroom door wasn’t fully closed, and wisps of fragrance seeped through the crack—obviously another “seashell girl” breakfast.

As she stood in the bathroom brushing her teeth, the door was quietly pushed open.

The “seashell girl,” wearing an apron, walked in and naturally hugged Chu Susu from behind, a smile on her face. “Not sleeping a bit more? We were up pretty late last night.”

When Han Xuan said this, Chu Susu stiffened for a moment. She saw her own face darken in the mirror:

“So you’re aware.”

And yet she’d gone so overboard.

“Sorry~”

Han Xuan said softly, burying her head in Chu Susu’s neck and rubbing against her like a puppy apologizing. “Won’t do it like that next time.”

“You still want a ne—”

Chu Susu set down her toothbrush and cup, twisting her head just as the words left her mouth unfinished. Han Xuan pecked her on the lips.

A soft, fluffy sensation, like being tickled by a feather.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Han Xuan lowered her head again, surprisingly a little cute:

“There will definitely be a next time.”

Chu Susu didn’t need a mirror to know her face was burning up.

“Han. Xuan.”

Gritting her teeth, she pushed the other away, not letting Han Xuan get away with it by acting cute like a puppy. “You…”

“What’s wrong with me?”

Han Xuan said, sounding a bit aggrieved, her lips pouting slightly, glossy and rosy like they’d been coated in lip gloss.

She looked a little sad as she asked, “Why no next time? Is it because it wasn’t comfortable with me? But yesterday you were clearly moaning so…”

Fuming, Chu Susu reached out and covered Han Xuan’s mouth. “You!”

Han Xuan wouldn’t normally talk like this. Where had she learned it?

Why did it feel like she was the one being teased?

Han Xuan paused, then obediently let her cover her mouth, only gently pressing a kiss into Chu Susu’s palm.

Caught off guard, Chu Susu felt her face burn even hotter.

“If you want a next time, then don’t say stuff like that,” she whispered, yanking her hand back as if electrocuted. “Otherwise, I won’t agree.”

Chu Susu didn’t even realize she was subtly giving in.

Han Xuan let out an “oh” and nodded obediently.

“I get it, you’re shy.” Her eyes curved like crescent moons. “I won’t say anything next time.”

“You’re making stuff up. I’m not shy.”

Chu Susu reflexively retorted, baring her teeth at her in a goofy face, completely unaware of how childish she looked as she changed the subject:

“Alright, time for breakfast.”

—

Today, Han Xuan had fried youtiao and steamed baozi.

Chu Susu’s home didn’t usually have these things. She didn’t know if Han Xuan had gone out early to buy them or somehow “conjured” them.

With Han Xuan around, nothing in this world seemed impossible.

Chu Susu was a bit hungry and ate quietly for a while, only to notice Han Xuan hadn’t even touched her chopsticks.

“You’re not eating?” she asked.

Han Xuan just propped her chin, staring unblinkingly at her and shaking her head. “I made it all for you.”

She seemed to especially love watching Chu Susu intently—whether it was her cheeks bulging as she chewed, or the way she bit the straw while drinking soy milk. It was like admiring a work of art.

Chu Susu bit into a youtiao, finding the taste somewhat familiar:

“…How did you make this? It tastes exactly like the breakfast shop from my high school days. That place was ridiculously good.”

It had been so long she could hardly remember what the shop looked like.

She just recalled rushing there every morning before class to scarf down a youtiao, clutching her soy milk cup in a desperate race against time, sprinting into school just before the gates locked.

She didn’t want to be late, but those youtiao were too damn good, and there were always crowds. Chu Susu would always linger a bit for the line.

Sometimes her luck sucked, and the teacher on duty would catch her, forcing her to apologize profusely at the gate before letting her in.

Then the homeroom teacher would give her an earnest lecture: “Susu, you keep being late like this. What are we going to do with you?”

Thinking back now, Chu Susu couldn’t help but smile faintly. They were all memories etched into her youth.

But she felt like she was missing something.

There seemed to be someone else who was late with her—standing beside her, slim and small, while she meekly apologized in the duty room…

But for some reason, she couldn’t recall.

Pipi beside them was chomping away at its dog food.

Today’s batch was especially tasty because Han Xuan had stir-fried it in a pot and mixed in some raw bone and meat, bringing out all the aroma.

In terms of food, it had been thoroughly conquered by her, just like its owner.

Han Xuan smiled faintly. “I specially studied the oil temperature and dough recipe.”

Chu Susu let out a surprised “eh.” “You kneaded the dough yourself? That’s way too much work.”

She was hopeless at cooking—usually just microwaving frozen stuff. She’d assumed Han Xuan had bought pre-made ones to fry.

What a hassle.

Reading her expression, Han Xuan explained, “I’m used to cooking, so it’s no trouble. Plus, this new recipe is something I just developed. First time making it today.”

Meaning, she was the first one to taste it.

The word “first” always had a way of lifting one’s mood.

Chu Susu sighed:

“Now that you say that, it hits me—before we met, all your cooking went into other people’s stomachs. Suddenly, I’m a bit jealous.”

Han Xuan’s food was just that good—good enough to crush a bunch of Michelin spots.

So good she decided to spectate in the kitchen next time, to see if Han Xuan snuck in some “magic” midway.

“Not really.” Praised by her, Han Xuan seemed a little shy. “Before, it was for relatives, and…”

“And?”

Han Xuan paused, not continuing.

Chu Susu laughed. “Don’t tell me it was for someone you liked.”

She was joking, since Han Xuan had said before they met, she’d had no romantic history.

But unexpectedly, Han Xuan nodded, a faint blush tinting her cheeks.

“Yeah…” she said softly. “Someone I liked back in school.”

Chu Susu felt surprised by this, and an inexplicable sourness.

Mainly because Han Xuan had always seemed so solitary, so she’d never imagined teenage Han Xuan crushing on someone.

“Oh,” Chu Susu said, blinking. “Who?”

“A senpai from the same school.”

Han Yao had vaguely mentioned before that Han Xuan had attended the same school as them.

Just one in high school division, one in junior high, far apart on campus with little contact.

If it was a high school senpai, Chu Susu might even know her.

Now even more curious, she pressed: “How many grades ahead? What’s her name?”

Han Xuan looked embarrassed, murmuring, “Can we not say?”

“…Fine.”

If she didn’t want to tell, Chu Susu wouldn’t push.

She tried to suppress her curiosity but couldn’t resist one last question: “What kind of person was she?”

Han Xuan thought for a moment. “Seems loud and brash, but actually very kind-hearted.”

“Pretty?”

“Very pretty. The acknowledged kind.”

It was clear she thought highly of her.

“…I see.”

Unbidden, Chu Susu wondered how, after three years of high school, she’d never heard of such a girl.

If there was one, she should’ve known.

Unless it was from junior high—then she’d have been just thirteen or fourteen, an unripe kid.

How could she be “acknowledged” as very pretty?

Unaware herself that she sounded like a petulant child, Chu Susu felt a strange sour tang in her heart:

“Was she prettier, or am I?”

“How can you compare?” Han Xuan answered honestly. “You’re both pretty…”

Before she finished, she saw Chu Susu purse her lips.

Han Xuan asked cautiously, “Are you upset now?”

“No.”

But that look was clearly not happy at all.

This wasn’t good. Han Xuan decided to remedy it: “No, you’re still the prettier one.”

But this belated explanation sounded a bit like a lie.

In the end, Han Xuan decided to quietly shut her mouth. It seemed like the more she tried to explain, the darker it got.

She thought to herself that in her heart, they were indeed equally pretty—truly hard to compare.

She remembered back when they were in second year of junior high; the two of them were regulars at that breakfast shop.

Han Xuan’s home was far away, but every day when she walked in, she could skip the line and eat a hot breakfast right away.

Because the girl in her school uniform and ponytail always snagged a good seat ahead of time, bought everything, and waited for her.

The girl never let her pay—even if Han Xuan shoved cash at her, she wouldn’t take it.

“The youtiao here is really delicious.”

With every bite, the girl’s eyes lit up a little more as she mumbled indistinctly, “Before graduation, I have to secretly learn the recipe from the boss. Otherwise, I won’t be able to eat it anymore…”

Han Xuan back then was tiny, skinny as a little bean sprout. Compared to the tall, stylish girl, she was utterly unremarkable.

Hearing that, she said softly, “I’ll make it for you.”

“Mm, sure.”

She gave that answer, but from the looks of it, the girl didn’t take it seriously.

Or rather, she didn’t hold out much hope for that little bean sprout.

Han Xuan fell silent but felt a bit unconvinced deep down. So she found a recipe on her own, fried up some youtiao, and planned to pack it as a bento for the girl.

She tried several times, but none succeeded.

It wasn’t that they weren’t edible—just that as a total novice with zero experience, they naturally couldn’t compare to that super popular breakfast shop.

In the end, Han Xuan had no choice but to go on eating breakfast there with the girl, though she secretly resolved in her heart to master it someday.

The place was always packed, though, so sometimes they had to wait so long they teetered right on the edge of being late.

Whenever that happened, the girl would grab Han Xuan’s hand and sprint all the way there in a rush.

She had long legs and ran fast, while Han Xuan—who was nearly a head shorter—had to put forth every ounce of effort just to keep up.

One time, the school was cracking down hard on tardiness and they ran right into the dean at the gate. He dragged them straight to the duty office and jotted down their classes and names.

“You again, Chu Susu.”

The dean launched into a long nag session.

“Not only tardy, but makeup too? How many times do I have to tell you—students shouldn’t waste time on dressing up… And you, little classmate—Han Xuan, right? No drinks in the classroom!”

The girl listened quietly at first, but when the dean turned on Han Xuan, she couldn’t hold back and retorted:

“Teacher, not even soy milk? She’s only thirteen—she needs it to grow.”

The dean snapped angrily, “One cup of soy milk is gonna make her grow?”

“Of course! Soy milk is packed with nutrition…”

In the end, the girl got assigned a self-criticism essay, which she turned in the very next day.

But it was full of detailed arguments about the nutritional value of soy milk, which infuriated the dean. He made her stand in the hallway as punishment.

When Han Xuan sneaked over from the junior high building, she tugged at the girl’s sleeve and said worriedly:

“The dean can yell at me all he wants. You don’t need to stick up for me, or you’ll just get in trouble again.”

“How could I not?”

The girl shot it down without a second thought.

“I’ve told you—with me around, no one can bully you.”

Han Xuan remembered those words for a long time.

In fact, every little moment with the girl was etched deep in her mind.

No matter how many times the other forgot, she always remembered.

Back then, Han Xuan hadn’t replied out loud. She just blinked and said in her heart—

Me too.

As long as I’m alive, I won’t let you get hurt.