Chi Buyu struggled to pry open her eyelids. “No.”
“Why not?” Cui Qijin’s hand was still dripping with water. “If you don’t want it, why did you buy it?”
Chi Buyu clutched her Strawberry Bear plush, pursing her lips as she glanced at her, then seemed to give up with a resigned shrug. In a weak voice, she said, “Kiwi skins are the hardest to deal with, and they make such a mess. It’s not pretty.”
Cui Qijin understood.
“You’re worried about not looking pretty at a time like this?”
She grumbled under her breath.
Yet she patiently carried the fruit back, peeled off all the skins, cut them into small chunks, and skewered each one with a toothpick.
From behind her, Chi Buyu said softly, “I’m a big beauty, you know. Of course I have to look pretty at all times!”
Cui Qijin nearly cut her finger laughing.
She brought back the plate, now neatly arranged with toothpicks, and said patiently, “Now can you eat it?”
Chi Buyu lifted her chin a little.
Just as she reached out, she suddenly pulled both hands back, tucking them into her sleeves.
She tilted her chin up higher, her face all scrunched up. She gave Cui Qijin a glance, then shrank back into her Strawberry Bear without a word.
“Still no?”
Cui Qijin asked suspiciously.
Chi Buyu blinked. “Wait… my hands have Shuishui on them…”
“What’s wrong with Shuishui?”
Chi Buyu whined softly, the fever patch on her forehead making her expression look all the more pitiful. “Won’t you feed me?”
“What?”
Cui Qijin wondered if she’d misheard. A sick Chi Buyu seemed just as clingy as a drunk one. Or maybe… this was Chi Buyu’s true nature all along?
Chi Buyu pouted. “Last time you were in the hospital, didn’t I feed you mangoes…?”
Mention of that left Cui Qijin with no comeback.
She sat down, eyeing Chi Buyu’s pleading gaze, then the plate of kiwis. She picked the neatest, prettiest slice and held it out.
Chi Buyu chomped it right off the toothpick.
She chewed a few times, seemingly pleased with her obedience. She patted Cui Qijin’s head, her eyes crinkling into a smile. “Good little doll.”
The fresh juice from the kiwi trickled down the toothpick and onto Cui Qijin’s fingertip. She finally understood what Chi Buyu meant by “Shuishui.”
The sweet, sticky scent clung to her fingers. She wiped it lightly, tossed the toothpick, picked another slice, and held it out, saying oddly, “You’re the little doll.”
Chi Buyu didn’t argue. She lounged lazily with her Strawberry Bear, eyes glued to SpongeBob on the TV. At her words, she just lifted her chin slightly to reach the next bite.
One bite after another.
The kiwi juice flowed more freely, spreading across Cui Qijin’s fingers like a sticky, cloying web.
It was a gloomy day outside. With only the TV on, the room was dimly lit—Chi Buyu’s eyesight probably wasn’t great. She chomped another bite—
There weren’t enough toothpicks left, so Cui Qijin had snapped some shorter ones for the last pieces. Chi Buyu went for one of those and nearly…
Bit Cui Qijin’s finger.
The juice was sweetly seeping, and the sensation on her finger was unprecedentedly soft and moist—Chi Buyu’s lips, slick with kiwi juice and warmer than normal.
Like a sweet quagmire, filled with memories of a certain night.
In that one second, so much seemed to happen—
Cui Qijin yanked her hand back in panic, flung the toothpick away, then wiped her hand on her knee, her side, before finally grabbing some tissues to clean off the juice. She passed a few to Chi Buyu too.
Chi Buyu hurriedly chewed and swallowed her kiwi, staring straight ahead at SpongeBob. In a stiff voice, she said, “Thanks.” The light was dim, but her ear tips were flushing red enough to drip blood.
She took the tissues, dabbed at her mouth, and in the TV’s flickering shadows, sneaked a glance over.
When Cui Qijin noticed and looked back,
Chi Buyu whipped her gaze away, cupping her face with her palms, refusing to talk or let her see. After a moment, she touched her own ear, then tugged at the Strawberry Bear’s ear in her arms, and mumbled gruffly,
“Cui Muhuo.”
“Hm?”
Cui Qijin held the plate with just a few pieces left, watching intently as SpongeBob and Octopus Bro argued over pizza.
“Are you busy this afternoon?”
Chi Buyu’s voice was congested, her breath hot and flowing through the dim air toward her—like the last few kiwis, fermented into thick jam swirling between them.
“Not really.”
Cui Qijin didn’t lie.
Chi Buyu let out an “oh.” From the sofa came a faint rustling, as if she’d scooted just a tiny bit closer before stopping.
Cui Qijin coughed.
Suddenly unsure if she should finish feeding the remaining kiwis.
Chi Buyu’s voice drifted over again. “Then will you watch a few episodes of SpongeBob with me?”
The kiwi scent continued to ferment.
Cui Qijin felt something swelling endlessly in her chest. She rubbed her fingers, lifted her chin.
“Sure.”
No reason to turn down a funny episode of SpongeBob.
She agreed. Chi Buyu fell quiet again, her breathing slowing as if she’d dozed off—or was just watching in silence.
After a while,
Cui Qijin heard her exhale, like a goldfish blowing bubbles her way—hot bubbles, over 38 degrees, as if the air itself was filled with drifting bubbles.
No one burst them.
“Open your hand a bit~”
With a pop, Chi Buyu burst the first one. She was full of surprises.
Cui Qijin should have given her a puzzled look, then calmly asked—why?
But.
Perhaps those bubbles had crowded around her, squeezing out her air. She could breathe fine, yet felt a touch oxygen-starved. So she just asked,
“What?”
“You know…”
Chi Buyu looked over. Already looking listless, her gaze was even blurrier now. She stared straight at Cui Qijin, unblinking—like she knew she couldn’t see clearly, knew that Cui Qijin knew, so she stared anyway as if it were natural.
She didn’t speak, just scooted closer.
“Stretch your hand this way a bit. I have something for you.”
Oh, so it was a gift.
Cui Qijin exhaled in relief, though her back inexplicably tensed. She extended her hand.
Just then, SpongeBob hit some scene, and the light dimmed further. In the shadows, she vaguely saw Chi Buyu’s ear, half-hidden by her hair, bright red.
She swallowed.
She held out her hand calmly.
Chi Buyu still stared, her gaze tight and unrelenting, then pursed her lips—probably signaling her not to look.
Cui Qijin obligingly looked away.
Focusing only on the yellow SpongeBob on screen.
Her hand stayed outstretched. Maybe thunderclouds rolled in; it grew even darker. Seconds passed, or perhaps minutes—her sense of time had dulled.
Her hand was tugged.
Then something warm latched onto her wrist. She thought it was the gift, but the next moment, her hair brushed her hand, soft and floating.
It tickled.
Before she could react,
Chi Buyu twisted her hand around, rolled right up beside her. Her fluffy head landed squarely in Cui Qijin’s chest, chin tucked into her collarbone—hair and all, tickling unbearably.
For a moment, one hand still held the plate she hadn’t set down, while the other was gripped tightly at the wrist by Chi Buyu. She didn’t know which to free first—like being kidnapped on both sides: one by kiwis, the other by…
Chi Buyu.
Buried in her arms, Chi Buyu went quiet at first. After a bit, she mumbled stuffily, “When I was sick before, Mom would hold me like this, watch SpongeBob with me, and then…”
A long pause. She tugged Cui Qijin’s hand before continuing, “Then pat my back.”
By all rights—Cui Qijin should firmly refuse, push her away, and say in bewilderment, I’m not your mom.
But.
After a silence, she heard herself say abruptly, “If you don’t let go, how am I supposed to pat your back?”
Chi Buyu lifted her chin from her embrace, seemingly pondering with great effort before drawling slowly,
“Oh, right.”
She released Cui Qijin’s hand.
Finally free from the bind, Cui Qijin looked down at the top of Chi Buyu’s head.
She couldn’t see her expression. She still wasn’t used to such intimate contact, her whole body rigid, like a stiff skeleton ready to shatter at a touch. This seemed like the perfect moment to push Chi Buyu away while she wasn’t looking.
She raised her hand.
But in her hesitation, she felt Chi Buyu gently, cautiously, wrap both arms around her waist through two layers of fabric—softly.
Still not looking up, still avoiding her eyes.
Her fluffy head nestled into a comfy spot, and she mumbled hazily, “Cui Muhuo, you’re so skinny. Your bones just poked my face a bit.”
She had no choice; she’d been defeated. She admitted this had happened a thousand times before.
From start to finish, this was likely the only thing she could allow herself to tussle over endlessly, the only thing she could let herself not understand.
Chi Buyu held her fast, leaving her unable to move. She smelled Chi Buyu’s scent. She placed her hand on Chi Buyu’s back, realizing she was the one being tamed.
She patted Chi Buyu’s back, coaxing her from stiffness to relaxation. She had no idea how much time passed before Chi Buyu finally seemed to drift off to sleep, drowsily nestled in her arms. SpongeBob SquarePants kept playing on oblivious, though she couldn’t say which episode it had reached.
One by one, her palms pressed gently through the fabric onto Chi Buyu’s slender, soft, warm back. She never stopped, silently wishing Chi Buyu sweet dreams forever.
She gazed down at Chi Buyu, able to see only the crown of her head, yet perfectly content to stare like that for a long, long time. Before she knew it, SpongeBob SquarePants reached its end, and the television screen went dark. Dazed, she lifted her eyes and caught their silhouettes reflected on the blackened glass—
Chi Buyu sprawled across her lap in disarray, legs tucked up, her tousled hair spilling over her like a celestial net woven from pear paste. And she herself resembled nothing more than a bare skeleton, bound tight within its strands.
Soon, it would swallow her whole.
She stared in quiet dread, yet an uncanny peace settled over her as she thought—
Perhaps being devoured wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe she would sprout fuller, lusher flesh from it. Weren’t all the stories told that way?
Well, truth be told, she had no clue what the real outcome might be.
Just then, Chi Buyu smacked her lips in her sleep, savoring some dream-delicacy, and mumbled softly,
“Cui Qijin, you’re really too skinny.”
She let out an inexplicable little laugh, gave Chi Buyu’s back another pat, and replied offhandedly, “Then you can just fatten me up…”
But as the words left her mouth, something made her pause. She brushed Chi Buyu’s sweat-dampened hair, stared at her for a long moment, then sighed—a touch bewildered, a touch docile.
“Will you? Chi Buyu.”
I seem to have started hoping from you again. That’s so dangerous.
