Chapter 3: “44 Seconds” Part 2

“Any songs you like to listen to?”

Cui Qijin didn’t have time to respond. She braced herself against the wall and thudded up the stairs, step by slow step. Only halfway up did she register that the boss had probably been talking to her.

But by then, she had already reached the second floor.

Her head, already fuzzy from drink, spun even more after the climb. She’d assumed Chi Buyu would be waiting right there, but when Cui Qijin arrived, the woman was nowhere in sight.

It was like playing hide-and-seek. What kind of magic trick was this?

Cui Qijin resolved not to hold it against a drunk.

Stumbling on unsteady feet, she made her way, swaying, toward Chi Buyu’s studio.

The studio door stood open, but no lights were on inside. The darkness was thick, cluttered with shadows. Shelves overflowed with neatly sorted bolts of fabric, though everything felt cramped and doubled in the gloom.

It looked like Chi Buyu had tidied up after getting back.

Cui Qijin let out a breath of relief and stepped inside. The darkness deepened, but a faint scent of Berlin Girl wafted through the air, somehow unifying the chaotic jumble of smells in the cluttered space.

She remembered that Chi Buyu liked to spritz perfume in her workspace. Chi Buyu had even claimed that her favorite scents helped her brain work faster—a completely unfounded notion.

In the darkness lingered only the sweet, subtle notes of Berlin Girl, mingling with the muted colors of the fabrics.

“Chi Buyu?”

Cui Qijin called softly from the doorway. No response. She reached for the light switch.

The bulb buzzed and flickered reluctantly to life. She glanced up at the faulty ceiling fixture, and in the next instant, something cool and soft brushed her cheek—gentle, tentative.

She turned her head. It was Chi Buyu, cradling her face in both hands. The fuzzy gloves were gone. Cui Qijin froze for a moment, saying nothing, and Chi Buyu poked at the corner of her mouth.

“Did you just smile?”

So that’s what this was—a check to see if she’d smiled. Drunk Chi Buyu was such a hassle, so persistent.

“I did,” Cui Qijin said curtly. She caught another flicker from the ceiling light, her head swimming even more. “Your light’s about to go out.”

“Oh,” Chi Buyu replied, but she didn’t let go. She kept holding Cui Qijin’s face, her fingers lightly tapping her earlobe.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Chi Buyu’s hands had felt cool at first. Now they were warming slowly against her skin.

Chi Buyu struggled to keep her eyes open, studying Cui Qijin in the stuttering light. Her breath carried a faint trace of booze.

She looked like she was scrutinizing something deeply. After a long moment, she asked dryly,

“Are you cold?”

They’d been stumbling from one end of the street to the other all night. Cui Qijin’s eyelids grew heavier, yet for some reason, she cooperated by resting her chin in Chi Buyu’s palm.

“Not anymore.”

“Oh,” Chi Buyu said again. “Then let me hold your face steady.” Her voice came from inches away.

Her breath grazed Cui Qijin’s lips, faint and teasing.

Cui Qijin looked up. Chi Buyu’s nose and the corners of her eyes were flushed red—whether from the cold or the liquor, she couldn’t tell.

The air hung quiet. Neither spoke, and no one questioned how odd “let me hold your face steady” really was. In fact, it somehow felt even stranger. Probably because they were both drunk.

Maybe this kind of intimate friendliness was strange in itself. Sober, Cui Qijin couldn’t imagine any reason for Chi Buyu to cradle her face like this—or for her to allow it without protest.

As if they were meant to be this close, shadows inseparable, like lovers bound at the hip.

The ridiculous notion bumped through her hazy mind, probability near zero. Cui Qijin burst out laughing.

Her laughter stirred the air, shifting its quality.

Chi Buyu’s fingertips brushed softly over her eyelids, ticklish like a fish’s kiss, before settling at the outer corner of her eye and pressing down insistently.

“What are you laughing at?”

Cui Qijin kept laughing. “I’m laughing at how awful your alcohol tolerance is.”

Chi Buyu objected, “You think yours is so much better?”

“Better than yours.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Then where’s that magic trick of yours?”

Chi Buyu fell silent again, closing her eyes and shaking her head in a drunken daze.

Cui Qijin thought how Chi Buyu’s speech slowed to a crawl when drunk, her reactions lagging even more. Though sober, her mind moved at the same leisurely pace.

The light continued to flicker on and off.

The two dangling strings on Chi Buyu’s earmuff hat swayed hypnotically. They hadn’t even touched Cui Qijin’s skin, yet they made her itch inexplicably, her head spinning.

She reached out and grabbed them.

Meeting Chi Buyu’s suddenly wide eyes, she explained, “My head’s spinning. Stop shaking.”

Chi Buyu froze.

She stopped moving, like a goldfish pinned in place, her expression utterly dazed.

Cui Qijin found it amusing and tugged lightly on the strings under Chi Buyu’s chin.

Chi Buyu scrunched up her face, clearly displeased.

Cui Qijin laughed until her stomach hurt. She dipped her chin and realized it was nestled right in Chi Buyu’s palm.

Her head felt heavy. Unable to resist, she nuzzled into it.

Dazedly, she heard music start up from the record store below—a lazy, intoxicating Cantonese song with muffled lyrics, its drumbeat and melody hazy and entrancing.

It blurred her hearing and vision all at once.

The world turned dreamlike and swaying. Suddenly, Chi Buyu doubled into two. So this was the magic trick Chi Buyu had pulled on her.

Both Chi Buyus cradled her face, their red lips opening and closing. One spoke in a sticky, soft voice.

“I wanted to conjure a mango for you at first, but when I walked by, Truth or Dare Mango was closed. Then I figured, since I’d come all this way, I couldn’t go back empty-handed. So I came up here to find something to turn into one for you…”

The other feigned fierceness. “Cui Muhuo, you’re so annoying!”

Cui Qijin laughed. Standing like this was tiring, so she leaned against the wall and asked,

“So what were you planning to turn into one for me?”

The two Chi Buyus grinned hazily along with her, their gazes merging back into one.

Just then, a streak of red light from the street flowed across her eyes to her lips. Chi Buyu unwound the scarf she’d had bundled around herself for so long and draped it around Cui Qijin’s neck.

But she was too drunk for precision. She managed only half of it before swaying unsteadily and planting her face on Cui Qijin’s shoulder.

Softly, she murmured, “How about half a scarf?”

Her breath was warm and yielding, like melting snow seeping into Cui Qijin’s weary chest.

In that instant, the scarf wrapped a strand of Cui Qijin’s hair against her neck, like those two endlessly swirling glasses of Irish Mist—no telling whose was whose.

The same red scarf bound them together. The lingering alcohol in their veins swayed lazily to the music from below.

If Cui Qijin had been sober, she would have added a note to her precautions: Irish Mist that tasted like coffee ice cream, Xue Kaiqi’s “Hold Your Breath for How Many Seconds,” and Chi Buyu’s botched magic trick could induce a dangerous hallucination.

But right now, she couldn’t even recall the name of Irish Mist. She only knew snow was falling confusedly outside the window, the record store below was a neighborhood nuisance, and the song’s “count to forty-four” would never reach its end.

The faulty ceiling light emitted strange buzzes, like their breathing rising and falling.

Drowsily, Cui Qijin dipped her chin and poked nonsense at the soft center of Chi Buyu’s palm.

Chi Buyu’s palm twitched under the poke, her nose nudging randomly against Cui Qijin’s neck—cool to the touch, nearly pressing into her shoulder blade.

It stung a little, but more than that, it was a numbing press of bone on bone, like breath sneaking in without reason.

She didn’t understand what was happening and mumbled, “Chi Buyu.”

In the next second, the light buzzed on—fully bright now.

An ambulance siren blared suddenly outside.

Her head spun fiercely. She shifted her back against the wall; it ached faintly. Without thinking, she let out a muffled grunt.

Chi Buyu lifted her head hazily from Cui Qijin’s shoulder, her gaze unfocused as she called, “Cui Muhuo—”

The final syllable trailed off as lightly as a wisp of thin snow, lingering transparently in her ear.

Buzz—the light dimmed again.

Downstairs, Xue Kaiqi sang “Hold Your Breath for How Many Seconds” with a light, playful voice. Cui Qijin stared at Chi Buyu, who stared back. Dizzy and lightheaded, for a moment they resembled a pair of puffed-cheek goldfish locked in a breathless staring contest.

Buzz—the light began flickering wildly.

The ambulance siren wailed on, red lights flashing beyond the glass window, casting them in a rosy aquarium glow. The water seemed clear yet distorted into sultry murkiness.

Cui Qijin rasped,

“Hm?”

Why was she calling her?

Chi Buyu blinked her hazy eyes, as if she couldn’t see clearly. She cupped Cui Qijin’s face closer. Her palms were so soft, her fingers slender.

“I just think…” Chi Buyu’s voice dripped with liquid alcohol,

“…this song’s about kissing, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Cui Qijin shook her head, straining to parse the Cantonese lyrics. She caught the female singer’s cheeky lilt: “I don’t breathe in or out but still pant for you.”

She chuckled softly. “Kinda.”

Through their tangled hair strands, dizziness forced her forward until her forehead rested coolly against Chi Buyu’s.

Much better.

Chi Buyu didn’t reply. Her thick, upturned lashes trembled.

Cui Qijin heard her slow breathing near her ear. Suddenly, everything spun before her eyes, like they’d truly held their breath to forty-four seconds and were oxygen-starved.

Maybe the scarf was tied too tight. Irritation crept in.

Buzz buzz—the lights flickered relentlessly.

Like a prelude to breakdown.

Chi Buyu blinked, gazing at her with those especially dazed eyes, foreheads still pressed as if only that kept her upright.

Then, through less than four inches of shifting light and shadow, she met Cui Qijin’s eyes and grinned woozily.

“Is there… a bit of water on your mouth?” Chi Buyu suddenly rubbed her thumb over Cui Qijin’s upper lip.

“Hm?” Cui Qijin lifted her heavy gaze.

Chi Buyu’s beautiful eyes fixed on her intently.

“Looks so kissable.”

Buzz… the light dimmed another notch.

Cui Qijin was so irritated that she wanted to smash the sputtering lamp, but her swing missed. She forced her eyes open and felt Chi Buyu’s finger slowly tracing her lips. She saw a delicate flush blooming across Chi Buyu’s eyelids and heard her continue to ask,

“Can I kiss you now that the magic trick’s over?”

Boom—the lamp burst.

The entire world plunged into the lonely void of space. In the enveloping darkness, Cui Qijin gazed toward Chi Buyu and suddenly felt an overwhelming peace settle over her.

Just then, the ambulance lights streaked past, illuminating the final second of tonight’s forty-four.

Half an hour after Crab Boss Class Monitor had warned them not to fight—

She cupped Chi Buyu’s face, her fingers drifting slowly to the soft spot behind her ear. Chi Buyu steadied her shoulders, her palm growing warm against her skin.

They huddled together beneath the same red scarf, swaying like partners in a clumsy dance or wrapped in a sweetness too tender to part.

The space between their faces shrank to nothing, their breaths ragged and strained, cheeks brushing in intimate whisper.

Afterward, they hid away in that red scarf on Love Adrift Street, the whole world holding its breath as if terrified of discovering two girls dating too young, stealing a secret kiss. When Chi Buyu’s lips brushed and teased hers, Cui Qijin caught the faint, sugary scent of tropical fruit and wondered if Chi Buyu had sneaked a mango just moments before.

This magic trick was so sweet it drowned her a little, and Chi Buyu was just the same. A thought like that had to mean she was already lost in a tipsy haze.