By the time they checked into the hotel, it was already very late.
Chi Buyu yawned drowsily, her eyelids barely staying open. She slumped against Cui Qijin, pushing the luggage they’d left at the front desk earlier while hugging her waist, dragging her feet along like a drunken koala.
But once Cui Qijin steered them past the glances of other guests and laboriously hauled her into the room—sliding the key card into the power switch and sending light swimming over their faces like lanternfish—Chi Buyu suddenly halted.
She lifted her face in a peculiar way, staring as if in disbelief, swallowing the rest of her yawn. Her cheeks puffed out like she’d stuffed them with two massive pieces of bubble gum. Then she extended two fingers and poked softly at Cui Qijin’s shoulder.
“Excuse me, Miss Cui,” she said. “You’ve come on a trip with your girlfriend, yet you booked a room with two beds. What exactly were you thinking?”
Cui Qijin pinched Chi Buyu’s puffed-up cheek, finding it amusing. She replied lightly, “Because a certain idiot fell asleep while I was booking the room and didn’t tell me afterward how I should have chosen.”
A room with two beds was probably the safest option anyway.
Chi Buyu felt a twinge of guilt, but not much.
She huffed and twisted her face out of Cui Qijin’s palm, shoving the luggage inside.
She looked around left and right before plopping down on the bed nearer the door. Still wearing the floral shirt that had been buffeted by salty sea breezes all afternoon and then doused in the smoke from that evening’s Shanghai-style seafood barbecue, she buried her face in the bedding and rolled back and forth a couple of times.
When she lifted her head again,
her neatly braided twin tails had come undone, with fluffy strands falling to the sides of her face. A few eyelashes had loosened, and the tips of her ears were tinged pink. Yet she still gazed at Cui Qijin with righteous indignation and declared,
“Now this one’s dirty. Miss Cui, you have nowhere left to sleep.”
So that whole elaborate routine had been to deliberately soil her bed.
Cui Qijin nearly burst out laughing.
But then she met Chi Buyu’s gaze—her chin propped up, lips pouted like a goldfish—and barely managed to suppress her amusement. With great resignation, she nodded and said,
“Fine, Miss Chi.”
In truth, they’d already shared a bed once before, back in Leshan. But that time, each had bundled up in their own quilt like a silver silk roll, which was clearly nothing like this situation.
Especially since Chi Buyu took an extraordinarily long time in the shower this go-around. Cui Qijin had let her go first, then meticulously checked the room alone for cameras, neatly organizing their sunglasses and luggage. By then, rain had begun pattering against the window. She zoned out to the sound for a bit, confirming she wasn’t thinking about anything in particular—and that the Drunk Ghost Couple hadn’t sent any pointless WeChat messages either.
Bored, she flicked on the hotel TV, idly tuning into SpongeBob SquarePants and watching the one-eyed, red-bearded pirate captain mouth the words dramatically to “Are you ready, kids?”
She wasn’t sure which episode of SpongeBob SquarePants it was. Cui Qijin drifted toward sleep, only to be jolted awake by the faint sound of the bathroom door opening. Groggily reaching for her glasses, she heard Chi Buyu belt out,
“No!”
Cui Qijin jumped, nearly dropping her glasses.
Blinking blearily toward the source of the noise, she mumbled, “What’s wrong?”
Everything was a blur, steam billowing from the open bathroom door and dampening her face. Chi Buyu came dashing over—thud-thud-thud—and dove under the covers, finishing her sentence a beat late.
“No glasses!”
The scent of bath gel followed.
Cui Qijin instinctively sniffed. It was as if someone had just peeled a fresh orange dotted with water droplets and dropped it into fizzing sparkling water.
Before she could speak—”Smack!” Chi Buyu’s orange-sparkling-water-scented hand patted her nose. It was soft, warm, and a little damp.
She wrinkled her nose, only for Chi Buyu to yell brightly,
“No sniffing either!”
Fine. Chi Buyu was being awfully bossy.
Cui Qijin wasn’t allowed to look or smell.
Half-blind in the haze, she fumbled for the clothes she’d neatly set aside earlier, groping at the bedside.
Chi Buyu peeked her head out from under the covers, watching her move like an old lady. Finally relenting, she released Cui Qijin’s nose and wriggled around in the white sheets.
With great magnanimity, she retrieved the glasses, helped her put them on, then giggled in satisfaction. Cupping Cui Qijin’s face, she planted a quick kiss before retreating swiftly. Propping up her steaming-hot, flushed cheeks, she waved her off and said,
“Go on, go on. Don’t slip in the shower later.”
The world snapped back into high definition.
Chi Buyu had burrowed fully into the covers again, curling into a fuzzy caterpillar.
Cui Qijin sighed.
Grabbing her clothes, she stepped through the misty air into the bathroom. After showering and blow-drying her hair, she sniffed her pajamas and realized she’d absorbed the orange sparkling water scent too.
And Chi Buyu…
Chi Buyu appeared to be asleep—
Huddled on one half of the bed, her hair mostly dry and softly framing her neck in the new color she’d dyed for the trip. Her lashes lay lazily together. She’d clearly snuck some drinks while Cui Qijin showered—empty pineapple beer cans littered nearby—and her face remained rosy.
She looked, and smelled, like a high-concentration orange-flavored roasted chestnut.
Cui Qijin stood beside the bed, hesitating.
The bed was rather narrow for two. She wondered if she should make do on it for the night.
But before she could decide, Chi Buyu stirred as if startled awake. Her eyes fluttered open sleepily, and she rubbed them drunkenly. Spotting Cui Qijin, she broke into a dopey grin, patted the spot she’d deliberately left empty beside her, and mumbled,
“Come sleep with this missy already!”
Cui Qijin couldn’t help laughing.
“How much did you drink, exactly?”
Even so, she eagerly slipped into the spot. The little orange-scented drunkard naturally wrapped her arms around Cui Qijin’s waist, face nuzzling her collarbone. She laboriously lifted a hand, made a tiny gesture, and drawled,
“Just a little bit.”
That didn’t look like just a little bit.
Cui Qijin sighed, pressing the raised hand back down. Leaning in, she saw Chi Buyu blink hazily. Then both arms looped around her waist again, head rubbing against her chin.
She seemed on the verge of passing out.
Yet she stubbornly kept her eyes open.
Cui Qijin patted her back, intending to lull the drunkard to sleep.
After a few pats,
Chi Buyu suddenly asked, “Cui Muhuo, check our plans for tomorrow?”
Cui Qijin mentally reviewed. “First up is the super-early beach sunrise around six, so we need to get up at five. Then back here for a nap. After waking, we’ll hit that rooftop restaurant, digest at the temple afterward, and finish with the motorboating you’ve been dying to do—”
She was nearing the end of the itinerary when
Chi Buyu suddenly clamped a hand over Cui Qijin’s mouth, clearly not wanting to hear more.
“That’s enough. Don’t say it.”
Drunk Chi Buyu was such a handful.
Cui Qijin tried to say something despite the gag, but Chi Buyu wasn’t done. Her thumb slowly rubbed Cui Qijin’s lips, poking at them.
Alcohol fermented in the orange-sparkling-water air. Chi Buyu didn’t rush to speak, nor did she let go, as if this were great fun.
Her nose tip pressed deep into Cui Qijin’s neck, inhaling—a ticklish sensation, skin nearly brushing skin.
SpongeBob SquarePants still played on the TV. Chi Buyu’s fluffy hair spilled over her as she snuggled closer. In a daze, she murmured,
“Cui Muhuo, you smell like an orange.”
Cui Qijin laughed.
She twitched her nose in Chi Buyu’s palm, but there wasn’t enough air. She could only manage a muffled whisper,
“You’re not much different.”
Chi Buyu let out a soft “hmph” and wriggled closer, nipping lightly at her neck. It was moist, soft, not painful—like a water peach frozen briefly in the summer fridge.
Cui Qijin let out a muffled grunt. The bone beneath tingled sharply; she shrugged involuntarily and grumbled, “Chi Buyu, are you a dog or what?”
It didn’t hurt, but why did Chi Buyu always bite her?
Chi Buyu fell silent.
She nuzzled the spot she’d bitten, as if smoothing her fur. Her breath wafted in as she murmured,
“I’m a drunk ghost. I can do whatever.”
So now she remembered she was a drunk.
Cui Qijin felt helpless. Their hair must be tangled too tightly—probably not fully dry. She was starting to feel stuffy and damp. Glancing at the still-on TV, she watched SpongeBob enter his Pineapple House on the dark ocean floor—
Suddenly, a hot palm twisted her face away.
Chi Buyu’s eyelids were faintly red. Dissatisfied, she lifted her chin huffily and began prodding sporadically.
“You’re spacing out again.”
“Sorry—” Cui Qijin wasn’t sure why she was apologizing.
Chi Buyu fixed her with those pretty eyes glazed with drunkenness, cutting her off.
“Then kiss me!”
Cui Qijin leaned down and did.
Chi Buyu “hmph”-ed—her lips glossy. “One more. Different spot.”
Stared down like that, Cui Qijin laughed and kissed her eye.
Chi Buyu persisted. “Not enough!”
Grinning, Cui Qijin kissed the tip of her wrinkled nose, her face pillowed on it. She even scraped Chi Buyu’s freshly kissed nose and teased,
“Chi Buyu, you’re such a pain!”
Chi Buyu pressed her face against the same pillow, staring intently at Cui Qijin for a long while before reaching out to gently scrape the tip of her nose. The two of them seemed content just to gaze into each other’s eyes like that, as if it could carry them through the entire night on Samui Island.
After a moment, Chi Buyu let out a yawn, squeezed her eyes shut, and blurted out of nowhere,
“Action!”
“What?”
Cui Qijin hadn’t quite caught on yet. Why was Chi Buyu suddenly yelling “Action!” like some kind of movie director?
The next instant, Chi Buyu—eyes still closed—started tugging at her clothes. Cui Qijin felt a tickle and froze, unsure how to respond. They ended up dodging and weaving in the cramped space, the white blanket nearly tumbling to the floor. Cui Qijin had no choice but to clutch her collar, where the buttons were on the verge of popping off, along with the blanket itself, all while struggling to keep her cool.
“Chi Buyu, calm down first. Otherwise, we won’t have anywhere to sleep later.”
Chi Buyu paused for a beat.
But less than ten seconds later, she was at it again, looking ready for a full-on tussle.
Cui Qijin rolled away in a fluster, her hair a tangled mess. In her desperation, she shouted,
“Cut!”
Chi Buyu froze.
Sure enough, the only way to get the upper hand with Chi Buyu was to play by her rules. Cui Qijin let out a breath of relief.
Chi Buyu’s lips pursed into a pout.
She yanked the blanket back over herself and curled up in the corner alone, her hair a wild tangle. She really did look like a tiny, tiny mandarin-orange-flavored roasted chestnut.
Her back was hunched up tight.
This little chestnut seemed utterly aggrieved.
Cui Qijin’s pounding heart finally slowed as the blanket was stolen away. She lay there in her pajamas, feeling utterly lost for a good while before reaching out to pat Chi Buyu’s shoulder.
“Chi Buyu?”
Chi Buyu twisted her shoulder away with force and said nothing.
Was she mad?
Cui Qijin proceeded carefully, grabbing a corner of the blanket in an attempt to pull her close.
Chi Buyu resisted, refusing to turn around as she snatched the corner right out of her hand.
Now she was really angry.
The kind that would be tough to soothe.
Cui Qijin pondered for a moment before awkwardly tugging at the blanket again. She called out “Chi Buyu” several times, then wrapped her arms around Chi Buyu from behind, blanket and all.
Maybe it was the alcohol.
Chi Buyu had surprising strength. She arched her back sharply, nearly shoving Cui Qijin right off the bed. Cui Qijin barely hung on by gripping the edge, determined not to tumble down in disgrace. In the end, she used both hands and feet to hold Chi Buyu in a tight embrace through the blanket. For a moment, they looked like a pair of long, stretchy candies locked in combat.
Cui Qijin mulled it over. How was she supposed to explain her earlier dodging? She started reflecting on where things had gone wrong—why did they always turn everything into a cartoonish farce? Bickering and scrambling about like that, anyone watching would think it was hilarious.
But she figured the least she could do was look Chi Buyu in the eyes before saying any of it.
With great effort, she twisted Chi Buyu around to face her. But when she finally got a clear look at Chi Buyu’s face, Cui Qijin froze. Chi Buyu was glaring at her with fury, her eyelids and the corners of her eyes red and puffy. Transparent tears were sliding down her cheeks.
One drop after another, splashing hot onto the back of Cui Qijin’s hand.
“You’re crying?”
Cui Qijin struggled to process the fact.
Chi Buyu grabbed her collar with a fierce tug and wiped her tear-streaked face.
Once she was done, she shoved the now-crumpled collar back at her and declared in a loud voice,
“No, I’m not!”
Cui Qijin cupped Chi Buyu’s damp face, feeling awful. She’d gone and made her cry again.
“Why are you crying?”
The words had barely left her mouth when Chi Buyu’s barely contained tears came flooding out. Cui Qijin tried to wipe them away frantically, but they seemed endless.
Chi Buyu wailed, her voice cracking as she threw her head back in a full sob.
“You definitely don’t love me anymore.”
“How could I not?” Cui Qijin patiently caught the brunt of Chi Buyu’s little outburst.
Chi Buyu’s shoulders heaved with each sob, like a squirrel tallying up how many rotten pinecones were in its basket. Hiccuping through her tears, she accused Cui Qijin of her recent crimes.
“I drank so much, even took the initiative to say ‘Action!’, and you still dodged! Dodging once would’ve been fine, but you kept at it—and then you stole the blanket, making it feel like we were actually fighting!”
“I—” Cui Qijin started to explain.
But suddenly, she realized she had no defense.
All she could manage was a lame, “That’s not what I meant.”
Chi Buyu pounded her shoulder. “That’s exactly what you meant!”
Cui Qijin clutched her shoulder. “I really didn’t mean it that way.”
Chi Buyu sniffled and lifted her teary, misty eyes to meet hers. “Then what did you mean?”
Yeah—what did she mean?
Why had she dodged around like that, leaving Chi Buyu to cry her heart out now?
Cui Qijin couldn’t quite figure it out herself.
She pulled Chi Buyu into a tight embrace, her throat bobbing as she let out an inexplicable laugh.
Her whole chest shook with it, as if the very air in the world were trembling along with her.
Chi Buyu kicked at her viciously, wriggling like a pop rock dropped in water. “What’s so funny!”
Cui Qijin laughed as she explained, “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at myself.”
“Yeah, right!” Chi Buyu twisted in her grip.
“No, really.” Once the laughter subsided, Cui Qijin sighed and held her even tighter, her voice tinged with bewilderment.
“I feel like such a kid around you. I always mess everything up, making careless mistakes left and right. I’m such a total dummy.”
Chi Buyu fell silent.
Cui Qijin kissed the lingering tear at the corner of Chi Buyu’s eye, marveling as she murmured,
“Salty.”
“Duh, dummy. Of course tears are salty—they’ve got salt in them.”
“Okay, fair enough.”
“Like a little doll.”
Chi Buyu wiped at her own tears but remained puffed up with indignation. As if in retaliation, she rubbed the tip of her nose against Cui Qijin’s chin. Then, with surprising generosity, she shoved half the blanket back over to share.
“So, wanna try ‘Action’ again?”
Her tone was nonchalant, but her gaze drifted toward Cui Qijin. Cui Qijin studied her expression and figured that if she said no—or worse, called “Cut”—Chi Buyu would probably stay mad for the rest of the trip.
Outside, the rain pitter-pattered against the window. On the TV, the eyemasked Red-Bearded Captain was belting out, “Are you ready, kids?” A chorus of children shouted back at the top of their lungs, “Aye aye, Captain!” The room’s lights cast a dim blue glow, as if the entire world of SpongeBob SquarePants had spilled into their Samui Island hideaway. She and Chi Buyu had stumbled hand in hand through hardships that stretched all the way to twenty-seven, finally rediscovering that pineapple house that only existed in the innocence of childhood.
Cui Qijin cradled Chi Buyu’s face in her hands and broke into a sudden smile. Chi Buyu reached over to tickle her ear, saying nothing, just staring right back. Then they huddled together in this tiny room on Samui Island, much like they had as kids, sneaking peeks at comic books under the covers while the TV flickered outside. They spent what felt like forever lost in each other’s eyes, their messy hair tangling as they kissed—as if hiding out in the pineapple house let them silently slip away from the adult world—
At last, Cui Qijin let out a nervous laugh, her gaze fixed on the equally tense Chi Buyu. She gently scraped a finger over the still-pink tip of her nose and whispered softly,
“Then… Action.”
She lifted the blanket and kissed her again, this time savoring the tipsy warmth of her…
Captain.
