“Idiot Muhuo, I’ll stay by your side for a hundred centuries.”
–
Yu Chenxing lay there for ages without actually falling asleep. Irritated, she opened her eyes—and there were Cui Qijin and Chi Buyu.
One in a red dress, the other in black—like trees entwined in growth, sleeping in each other’s arms, their hair tangled together. The skirts of different colors draped over one another, with two incongruous beer can pull tabs sitting nearby.
For some reason, the trash that Cui Qijin had dismissed was being carefully kept right by her side.
That night, insomnia gripped Yu Chenxing thanks to her condition. Reluctantly, she watched the two of them for a long time, piecing together all the hints they’d let slip before. Finally, she grasped the gist of it. And so, she started finding the pair an eyesore. She wanted them gone, pronto.
But the discomfort of her flare-up made it hard to move. She had no choice but to pull out her phone and tap away at it, distracting herself. In the end, she fired off a WeChat message to Cui Qijin and flung the phone aside—
Cui Qijin, stop copying Mom and Dad. When you love someone, you have to let the whole world know. Got it?
–
Once Yu Chenxing’s flare-up eased this time, she insisted on checking out, just like always.
She used to say she didn’t want to waste her limited life rotting in a hospital bed.
This time, she said she really didn’t want to watch Cui Qijin and her beloved Sister Shuishui subject her to more love bullying right in front of her face.
Love bullying?
What a weird term.
Cui Qijin thought it sounded embarrassingly cheesy when she heard it.
Chi Buyu, on the other hand, seemed like she’d heard it before. She wrinkled her nose, watching Yu Chenxing shed her striped hospital gown for a short skirt and saunter off, leaving them behind. After a moment’s reflection, Chi Buyu said,
“Were we really that bad?”
Influenced by Chi Buyu,
Cui Qijin found herself instinctively reflecting too. She replayed their behavior in front of others in her mind. How was that bullying? She and Chi Buyu had only been together for a very short time. There were still so many things they hadn’t done.
“No,” she said.
No explanation needed.
But Chi Buyu believed her. Under the blazing sun, she held up her freshly bought Wall’s Crisp Cone Ice Cream and nodded in agreement. “That’s what I thought. We’re not that bad. Out in public, we don’t even do much!”
Cui Qijin naturally reached out to wipe the ice cream from the corner of Chi Buyu’s mouth. When it smeared onto her own hand instead, she wiped it off with obvious distaste.
No sooner had she finished than
Chi Buyu took another big “chomp” from the cone, crumbs sticking to her lips.
Cui Qijin patiently wiped them away again.
Only then did it seem to hit her, delayed, what Chi Buyu had said. She nodded. “Yeah.”
Then she turned.
And saw Ran Yan leaning flirtatiously against the car, rolling her eyes, while Chen Wenran dangled from the car door like a zombie, pulling a retching face.
The two spoke in unison,
“Just admit it! You’re already head over heels in love!”
–
The day pre-orders went live for Chi Buyu’s “Only Her Life” series of redesigned summer cheongsams, summer was already sweltering, the trees steamed to a vivid green. Cui Qijin holed up in her studio, utterly unafraid of Shuishui’s earlier stern warning against buying any.
Shuishui had said whatever the sales were, that was the result—no need for anyone to fake it for her! Cui Qijin had agreed with a verbal “Okay,” then brazenly reserved five sets.
Her address, phone, and account promptly got banned by Shuishui on the backend. Due to purchase limits, Cui Qijin went to Chen Wenran for her ID number to buy them instead. Chen Wenran just shrugged, saying her own account had already been banned wholesale by a fuming Shuishui—nothing she could do.
Then Chen Wenran added—
Why buy so many? Planning to open a Shuishui clothing museum at home?
Cui Qijin ignored her.
She even considered hitting up Yu Chenxing.
But then Chi Buyu—who had been dozing on the sofa at her place, mango in hand, AC blasting—suddenly padded barefoot across the rug. She ran over and offered a mango she’d already taken a bite from, gazing at Cui Qijin with pleading eyes.
“It’s super sweet. Want some?”
Cui Qijin glanced at Chi Buyu.
Her eyes narrowed.
Chi Buyu’s gaze plainly read: I don’t care how sweet this mango actually is, but if you don’t eat it, I’m gonna get mad!
Fine.
Cui Qijin resigned herself and took a bite right where Chi Buyu had. Juice dribbled from the corner of her mouth. She looked up, about to comment that it wasn’t that sweet.
Her lips were suddenly claimed.
Chi Buyu grinned and kissed her, licking away the mango juice like a cat. Then she hopped back in three quick barefoot steps, burrowed into the sofa, and contentedly munched the rest. Chin propped on a pillow, she called out,
“Cui Qijin, get back to work properly, okay!”
The lingering mango juice stayed at the corner of her mouth—not all that sweet, but somehow sweet after all.
Cui Qijin thought she was awfully contradictory.
She sighed.
Swiveling her computer chair back around in resignation, she grabbed a tissue to wipe her mouth. Chi Buyu was kicking off a new vacation, but she was facing a fresh onslaught of deadlines.
Chi Buyu lounged on the sofa, chin doubling up as she snapped a photo of Cui Qijin’s seemingly helpless back.
The woman’s hair was casually clipped up with a shark clip, the glow from the computer screen dancing across her slightly turned face. Black shirt over a white tank top—she really looked like the stubborn, resilient heroine from some arthouse film.
Chi Buyu posted the photo to her WeChat Moments.
When she checked back, her heroine had taken off her glasses and was fogging up the lenses with her breath, squinting like an old lady to wipe away the mist.
Chi Buyu cracked up.
But she was afraid her laughter might disrupt the heroine’s train of thought. So she clamped a hand over her mouth and scrolled her freshly posted Moments instead. Comments were already pouring in—
Mom: What a good girl. [Thumbs up]
Dad: Learn from her. [Thumbs up]
Auntie: This girl looks a bit frail. What’s her name and birthdate? I’ll check her fortune while I’m at it.
Classmate Chen Wenran: You two gonna drag out the honeymoon phase for over a decade too?
…
Her older female cousin slid into her DMs: [So, when are you bringing her home to meet the family? /Sneaky grin]
Chi Buyu propped her phone on her chin, staring at Cui Qijin’s back for a long time. She pondered even longer, fingers flying over the screen. Finally, she sent her cousin a message:
[A few days ago, I asked her if it would be a problem if I wanted the whole world to know we’re together. She said no problem.
Then I asked her, we’re both starting our first relationship so late in life—we don’t know a thing, our pace feels way slower than everyone else’s. Even kissing turns into a debate over who initiates, like whoever does it more is losing ground. Sometimes we even bicker and annoy each other like before. If that’s how we get along, will it be a problem? She still said no problem.
After that, I sighed and asked, what if we hadn’t gone to Leshan on my birthday—we might’ve had to wait till we were both old ladies to get together. She laughed like crazy but still held my hand, walked me home from work, and said all childlike, No problem either~
And then, not letting up, I asked her, what if after we start dating, I’m still this immature love-brained mess? She thought about it and whispered, No problem.]
Neither of us really understood what good love was. We both seemed capable only of clumsily fumbling our way toward loving each other, determined not to repeat the mistakes we’d made before.
So I thought, I needed to be more patient. I should tell her it was okay—not being used to so much love was fine, even recoiling from it was fine. I’d wait until she grew accustomed to my “love” being by her side, until she was no longer so allergic to “love,” until she was truly ready. Then I’d let her enter our world.
She sent this very long WeChat message.
Chi Buyu added the photo she’d just taken to her collection, then let out a yawn. She opened her notes app and jotted down an entry for tonight’s diary—
Q: Chi Buyu, in this fast-paced life of ours, is it shameful to yearn for a spiritual kind of love?
A: Not at all.
–
Cui Qijin finished today’s work five minutes early.
Exhausted, she removed her glasses and glanced back.
Chi Buyu was still there.
Curled up on the sofa, shrunken into a tiny ball, her chin lifted as if she’d already dozed off again.
Cui Qijin slipped her fatiguing glasses back on. She wanted to see Chi Buyu more clearly.
She walked over.
With great patience, she tidied up the cookie remnants Chi Buyu had left behind. Squatting by the edge of the carpet, she picked up the scattered crumbs, then carefully pried the phone from Chi Buyu’s grasp. SpongeBob SquarePants was still playing on the screen, looping endlessly as if it would never end.
Once everything was cleaned up,
she sat down beside Chi Buyu and did nothing but watch her.
The fatigue in her eyes seemed to fade away bit by bit.
She thought Chi Shuishui must be a person bursting with vibrant colors.
That was surely why she had such a healing effect on the eyes.
Time passed—who knew how long. Dusk settled in the west, the setting sun like marbles tumbling onto their slippers. Chi Buyu, stirred by some dream or other, suddenly opened her eyes without warning—
Cui Qijin was caught.
Composed as ever, she averted her gaze.
She heard Chi Buyu’s sleepy mumble: “Cui Muhuo?”
“Mm?”
Cui Qijin turned her head to gaze once more at Chi Buyu—the one she’d already watched for forty-five minutes and still hadn’t had her fill of.
Chi Buyu pursed her lips and puffed out her cheeks. In a lazy drawl, she tapped a finger against the corner of her mouth.
Cui Qijin was defeated.
She could scarcely believe she was about to do something so corny.
But she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Chi Buyu’s lips.
She’d intended just a quick peck before pulling away.
The next instant, however, Chi Buyu seized her hand.
Chi Buyu yanked her back forcefully, and they both tumbled onto the narrow beanbag sofa—like two marshmallows swelling up as they rolled together, or some grotesque creature with four arms, four legs, and two heads.
Cui Qijin felt utterly helpless. She cradled Chi Buyu’s head and drawled out her name: “Chi Buyu—”
Chi Buyu paid no mind.
She sprawled atop Cui Qijin, wrapping around her legs like an octopus. She yawned first, still groggy from sleep, staring into space for a moment.
Once she’d gathered her wits, she lifted her face with a mischievous grin, puckered her lips, and came in for a kiss—on the eyes, the nose, the ears. Wherever her lips landed, that spot became Chi Buyu’s territory.
Chi Buyu kissed and giggled all the while, her dark, sparkling eyes fixed on Cui Qijin like a little bird pecking away at a persimmon.
In time, even Cui Qijin dissolved into laughter from Chi Buyu’s onslaught of affection.
Squeezed together on the sofa, they laughed until the whole world seemed to shake with them.
It never seemed to end.
At last, Chi Buyu whimsically snatched away the glasses Cui Qijin wore to see her clearly. She buried her fluffy head against Cui Qijin’s chest, nuzzling back and forth, her chin bobbing as she clung tight and declared,
“Cui Qijin, you have to play with me.”
Cui Qijin patted the top of Chi Buyu’s head. “Okay.”
Chi Buyu wasn’t satisfied. “You have to play with me forever and ever, not with anyone else.”
She clung like a gummy candy on the verge of slipping off.
Cui Qijin hoisted her up a little, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Okay.”
Evidently, Chi Buyu turned clingy and spoiled after waking from a nap. Cui Qijin tucked that fact away in her heart.
Chi Buyu leaned in for more kisses, planting a few before cupping Cui Qijin’s face. “You have to play with me for a hundred centuries.”
Cui Qijin’s glasses were gone now. She couldn’t make out Chi Buyu’s expression clearly.
So she cupped Chi Buyu’s face in return, drawing as close as possible, scrutinizing every detail with her own eyes and saying with utmost sincerity,
“Okay.”
Chi Buyu burst into laughter.
She laughed with pure delight, like a child assured of a promise kept. Then she hugged her again, playfully brushing her nose tip against Cui Qijin’s in a gesture so intimate it was utterly endearing.
They stayed entwined like that for ages—summer heat tempered by air conditioning, sunk into the beanbag sofa, as if recharging their batteries. At last, they felt fully powered up to a hundred percent.
Chi Buyu pinched Cui Qijin’s softened lips, now tender from all the kissing. Propping her chin on them, she blinked her lashes and punctuated each word with a kiss:
“Let’s~ go~ to~ the~ seaside~ for~ our~ next~ date~, okay~?”
