Her Tentacles 6

Chapter 6: Holding Hands

Beeeep—

The piercing sound of whistles rose and fell across the sports field.

Against the backdrop of the stirring “Athletes’ March,” track and field events like the high jump and long jump were underway. The thought of how this song had haunted her from her school days all the way to her working life made Shu Yao, sitting in the stands with her sun hat on, raise a hand to cover an irrepressible yawn.

“Does anyone else need water?”

At the front of the tiered seating, the head of the teaching and research group held up several bottles of mineral water, her voice loud. Beside her stood Wu Li, silently clutching a cardboard box.

Compared to his usual liveliness during group activities, he was exceptionally quiet today. The brilliant sun shone on his broken glasses, glinting off the one half of a lens that remained.

The last dregs of Shu Yao’s sleepiness vanished in an instant.

He’s looking at me.

She pressed her lips together. Though she was sitting in a sweltering, clamoring crowd, a cold sweat began to bead in her palms.

The gaze, like that of a cold-blooded animal locking onto its prey, pulled her back to the previous night in front of the gymnasium. Back then, she had been gripped by fear as someone repeatedly, playfully, tapped her on the shoulder. Her blood and bones had run cold, until a beam of light shone from within the gymnasium, piercing through the glass in front of her.

“I had a feeling you’d be here.” Zhou Wenbai, who had turned on his phone’s flashlight, gave her a little wave, sending the blinding beam of light wobbling wildly. He pushed open the door to Exit E and began to lecture her out of habit. “The school is safe, of course, but it’s still dangerous for a girl to be wandering off to deserted places by herself.”

Her heart still pounding, Shu Yao looked at him. “Uncle Zhou…”

Then she turned her head back, only to find no one there.

As she and Zhou Wenbai walked toward the parking lot, they ran into other colleagues on their way home. Shu Yao couldn’t help but ask him if he had seen anyone else when he was coming over.

“No, I didn’t.”

After answering, Zhou Wenbai seemed to recall something. “But that Teacher Fan from your office said she had to pick up her kid from school and left early. Little Wu insisted on going with her to see her off… Ai, Teacher Fan is already married—”

He cut himself off. After all, Shu Yao was just a junior colleague. His expression turned complicated for a moment, and he could only add lamely, “Anyway, it’s best if you don’t get too close to that Little Wu.”

As it happened, Teacher Fan, the one Little Wu had seen home, was not at school today.

The teacher in charge of attendance said they couldn’t get through to Fan Xin’s phone.

The implications of this news made Shu Yao, who hadn’t slept a wink all night, even more tense. She had a feeling that it was her turn next.

…

Shu Yao decided she wouldn’t budge from the crowded spectator stands for the rest of the day.

The morning had passed without incident.

It was now 2:40 in the afternoon. The first phase of the sports meet would end at five, and there was no overtime today. If she could just leave the school with the crowd—

“Teacher Shu.”

Chen Le came up the small side staircase of the stands, her eyes scanning the faculty area. Even though everyone was wearing the school-issued sun hats—the kind with a little plastic yellow duck sitting on the brim—Shu Yao was still the most eye-catching one. Chen Le immediately waved her over. “The high jump team is short a judge. If you’re not busy, could you go and help out?”

“…”

A few minutes later.

Next to the red-and-white high jump bar, which was scorching hot from the sun, stood a dewy, tender cabbage.

The registration area, which had only a sparse few students before, was suddenly packed to the gills. The judge responsible for recording the results glanced at that face, flushed a rosy white by the heat, and wondered if it was his imagination, but the students’ rate of knocking down the bar seemed to have suddenly increased.

Clang!

The thought had barely formed when a male student in front of him sheepishly rubbed his nose and got up from the disheveled mats. Hearing his roommates’ merciless laughter, he blushed and chased after them, and they began to roughhouse.

“Excuse me, Teacher,” the judge with the whistle in his mouth proposed without looking up from the booklet he was writing in. “Could you go to the equipment room and get me two more mats?”

“Of course.”

Shu Yao nodded. The black-and-brown irregular plaid long skirt tied at her waist accentuated her slender calves.

She had only taken two steps when she saw a group of female athletes, who had just finished registering, huddled together with their competitor numbers pinned to their chests, whispering at a volume she couldn’t hear:

“I can’t imagine how cheerful I’d be if I had a face like that.”

“Her skirt is so cute, I want the link.”

“Am I the only one who wants to squeeze the little yellow duck on her hat?”

“Is the little yellow duck the only thing you want to squeeze?”

The equipment room was on the other side of the field, through a small door in the shade behind the spectator stands.

Stepping out of the blazing summer sun and through the iron door, Shu Yao finally found some cool shade. She fanned herself with her hand for a moment before she began looking for the folded green mats.

The seldom-opened equipment room was filled with its own strange smell, but Shu Yao was dismayed to find that, having been so thoroughly poisoned by the air around Wu Li’s desk, she found this place merely tolerable—

Click, clack.

Just as she squatted down to pick up a landing mat, a strange sound came again from above.

It was incredibly clear, as if it were crawling right up her spine.

A tapping sound followed on her fluorescent-coated plastic hat: tap, tap.

The lively sounds from the sports field had faded into the distance without her noticing.

She was alone in the empty equipment room. As the clicking and clacking grew closer, she caught sight of a faint shadow to her side, approaching from afar. The shadow swelled and twisted, like a sheet of paper spattered with chaotic, disordered colors.

Thump, thump, thump!

The sound of her heart grew louder, but once again she felt the terror of her limbs going weak with fear.

Until the shadow was standing right behind her, even beginning to creep toward her…

“Quack—!”

The sound of the toy duck being squeezed echoed loudly in the small room, making her jump.

“Quack, quack,” it went again.

Her knees weak, Shu Yao managed to turn her head. She saw the wavy hem of a shirt hanging down in front of her. A realization seemed to dawn, and she immediately spun around to face the person whose fingers had not yet left the brim of her hat.

Outside, the summer was brutal, but the person who had appeared here was perfectly crisp and cool. Not a single drop of moisture dampened the collar of her snow-white satin blouse. Her beautiful dark eyes were like a cold mountain pool, and just meeting her gaze seemed to be enough to ward off the heat.

The squatting figure murmured, “Lin Ran… what are you doing here?”

At the urging of her feelers, and having sated their curiosity by repeatedly squeezing the little yellow duck, she drew back her hand. She looked at Shu Yao’s face, which was now like a rain-slicked apple, red and beaded with sweat.

She offered her usual perfect smile. “Because you never see me after work.”

As she spoke, she casually flicked a black speck from her pinky finger.

The speck hit the floor, its legs making a tiny click-clack as they scraped against the ground.

…So it was just a beetle.

…

“I—I don’t not see you…”

Her fear dispelled, Shu Yao let out a huge sigh of relief. She belatedly remembered to explain herself, and when Lin Ran extended a hand toward her, she instinctively took it.

So cool.

Compared to the thirty-five-degree heat, the other woman’s palm felt like a piece of cool jade.

Shu Yao used the grip to pull herself up but was still reluctant to let go. But then she remembered her tendency to sweat easily, and her fingers tightened and loosened. Finally, in a pleading tone, she asked softly, “Just… just a little longer, okay?”

Lin Ran didn’t answer.

But her actions contradicted this silent permission—

Her long, strong fingers suddenly slid, one by one, into the spaces between Shu Yao’s own. Her fingertips curled, interlocking their hands. With just that one simple movement, she had brought every inch of the other’s palm, fingers, and the back of her hand under her own aura. It was the instinctive reaction of her feelers upon touching prey: seize, and constrict.

Her expression was placid, but Shu Yao, whose hand had just been so thoroughly captured, was going: !!!

Happiness had come too suddenly!

But it seemed that wasn’t enough for Lin Ran. In the dusty light of the equipment room, illuminated by a single foot of sunlight that had crept past the doorway, the dark-haired woman paused. Then, the wrist on which faint blue veins traced a path suddenly flipped over.

Shu Yao, whose hand was flipped along with it: “?”

A moment later.

A starburst of coolness on her wrist made her eyes fly open.

Fine dust motes danced in the golden light from the doorway. Nearby, the owner of the sleeve, with its ruffles piled like scoops of ice cream, leaned down. Her black hair cascaded down like a fringe, and her nose came to rest with precision against the thin, sensitive skin over the pulse point of the wrist she held.

Cold, itchy, numb—a host of sensations traveled along her nerves to her brain.

Though it was only a sniff, Shu Yao felt as if she had been kissed, and her face began to burn.

Until the other woman tilted her head, her nose tracing a path along the skin of Shu Yao’s wrist. Though she was in the lower position, she used those limpid black eyes to study her intently.

“…You have another scent on you.”