Chapter 18: Let’s Sleep Together

Fate often played big or small jokes on people.

Big ones, like being chased by enemies and unexpectedly falling into a lake to arrive at a distant “other shore.”

Small ones, like the treasures you cherished the most being the easiest to damage.

Not long after Gan Xun had blown on Zhao Chiyun’s hand—flushing red-faced and fleeing in embarrassment—Zhao Chiyun’s hand got cut by a book page again.

She first cried out in pain. Only when Gan Xun rushed over in a panic did the wound slowly ooze blood.

Gan Xun took one look and breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to say it was no big deal—a little cut, just rinse it with water.

But seeing Zhao Chiyun’s brows furrowed like Xishi’s, she felt she couldn’t—and shouldn’t—say something so casually dismissive.

She would get her whole clan executed.

It was impossible not to feel guilty. Why hadn’t she told Zhao Chiyun earlier that the books here were cut sharp by cold machines and required caution in pursuit of knowledge?

Gan Xun wasted no more words. She carefully fetched some iodine-soaked cotton balls, wiped the wound clean, and watched as it stopped bleeding and vanished without a trace.

“Does it hurt a lot?” She squatted in front of the sofa and looked up at Zhao Chiyun.

It wasn’t that she had to squat—some nobles had no concept of offering a seat, and sitting on the sofa’s edge while twisting sideways had left Gan Xun too flustered to sit down properly.

Zhao Chiyun heard her voice sounding weaker than her own, as if she had truly been frightened.

She had wanted to throw a little tantrum, but now that the medicine had been applied and she was being fussed over with concern, Zhao Chiyun managed to show a bit of consideration in return.

“It’s fine.”

Gan Xun moved the book farther away. “Blame the book—no more reading. It’s still early. Let’s watch a movie instead.”

Zhao Chiyun asked, “Gan Xun, why did you suddenly run off just now?”

Gan Xun had been so strangely attentive, gentle like her mother or big sister as she blew on her hand, only to coldly walk away moments later.

Gan Xun was searching for a movie. She looked up and met a pair of clear eyes. After a moment’s thought, she said, “I suddenly had to use the bathroom.”

“…”

Gan Xun’s apartment had no TV, so the two of them sat side by side on the sofa and watched on a tablet. She picked a modern slice-of-life comedy and explained it to Zhao Chiyun as they went along.

From the film itself to the cinematography, characters, themes, and songs… Zhao Chiyun didn’t understand any of the artistic elements.

Gan Xun didn’t get annoyed. She gently accepted the vast gulf in mindsets between ancient and modern times.

The movie ended with a swimming scene where the protagonists sank one by one into the water, colorful dreamlike splashes bursting forth.

With the music, Gan Xun teared up.

Zhao Chiyun: “?”

“Why are you crying?”

“My eyes are just sore.”

The emotional viewer felt a bit embarrassed. She grabbed a tissue to wipe her eyes and lightened the mood. “They all have such great figures. I’m envious.”

Zhao Chiyun asked again, “In your world, what counts as a good figure?”

“Just like yours.”

Gan Xun’s reddened eyes flicked toward her, then quickly looked away.

Zhao Chiyun got the hint and said proudly, “So that’s why you blush every time you look at me.”

“When have I ever blushed?”

Zhao Chiyun pointed at her face. “Go look in the mirror yourself.”

No way. She wasn’t embarrassed about anything right now. Could blowing on her hand earlier still be affecting her?

Gan Xun ran to stand in front of the mirror and examined her cheeks. No redness—this was just her normal skin tone, right?

But she caught sight of Zhao Chiyun behind her in the reflection, covering her mouth and laughing.

“You’re tricking me?”

Gan Xun whipped around.

Zhao Chiyun looked innocent. “I just said it offhand. Who knew you’d actually go check?”

Gan Xun ground her teeth.

Before heading to her room, Zhao Chiyun had said goodnight to her. Hearing the door close, Gan Xun felt a daze—they had only known each other for a day, yet living together felt like they’d been acquainted for ages.

She left the floor lamp on and lay on the sofa, searching for transmigration incidents. The more she read, the more her head hurt—nothing but fake news and dead ends.

She tossed her phone aside and eventually drifted off to sleep.

Having drunk too much water during the movie, Gan Xun woke up in the middle of the night and groggily headed to the bathroom.

She flushed, washed her hands, and in her sleepy haze, passed through the silent darkness of the living room. Naturally, she opened the bedroom door and flopped onto the bed.

She was abruptly shoved awake.

Zhao Chiyun’s voice had never been this close before—practically right by her ear.

Husky from just waking up, with a tone of bewilderment but perfect self-righteousness, she asked, “What are you doing on my bed?”

Gan Xun realized in an instant. She sat up with difficulty.

“Sorry, I went into the wrong room.”

She got up and left the other woman’s bed.

Back on the sofa, her sleepiness was gone.

She felt a bit awkward—and a strange, indefinable excitement.

Her bed was still comfortable. The new four-piece bedding set from the night before was light blue plaid. The difference now was that it was filled with Zhao Chiyun’s scent.

She had sobered up the instant she was pushed awake. And then she smelled it.

It really didn’t feel like her bed anymore.

Gan Xun lay awake. She started searching again: how to help a transmigrated ancient person get home.

She hadn’t slept deeply come morning when the eight o’clock alarm rang. She decided to just get up.

After a quick wash-up and change of clothes, she headed downstairs.

She figured it was good that Zhao Chiyun hadn’t risen early for once—she could sleep peacefully.

In fact, Zhao Chiyun had woken before the alarm went off. She had quietly cracked the door open, seen Gan Xun sleeping soundly, and closed it again.

Once Gan Xun left the apartment, Zhao Chiyun got dressed and went out.

They had agreed the night before that Gan Xun would buy breakfast today, so after washing up, Zhao Chiyun leaned on the balcony and waited for her return.

She spotted Gan Xun from afar. In the crowd, her height and face both stood out.

Zhao Chiyun called out, “Gan Xun.”

Gan Xun stood at the base of the building and looked up. Through the old third-floor window, she saw a stunning face. A pounding in her chest brought a sense of unfamiliarity.

She couldn’t help but smile and call back, “Get ready to eat.”

When they met, Zhao Chiyun brought up the old score first. “You scared me last night.”

Gan Xun felt awkward again. “I really didn’t mean to. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”

There were only two nights left anyway.

Pleased, Zhao Chiyun took her seat. “I’ve taken your bed. Do you resent me for it?”

Gan Xun placed a bun on her plate, poured soy milk into a glass for her, and even peeled a boiled egg. “If I said yes, would you share half with me?”

She said nothing, so Gan Xun laughed. Clearly not expecting an answer, she started eating her corn on the cob.

Unexpectedly, Zhao Chiyun replied, “Fine. Let’s sleep together.”

Gan Xun choked.

She waved it off. “I appreciate the offer.”

“One does not refuse grace.” Zhao Chiyun spoke with utmost seriousness.

Gan Xun could only stall. “We’ll talk about it tonight.”

Though the County Princess was picky, she wasn’t strict about food. This led Gan Xun to guess that while ancient nobles enjoyed rare delicacies, they weren’t necessarily prepared all that well.

So whether it was beef-filled buns or tofu-filled ones, Zhao Chiyun liked them all.

She ate half a corn cob too, though her opinion of that was merely average.

“Today, I need to wash my hair.”

She reminded Gan Xun after finishing, lest she forget.

Gan Xun acknowledged it. The two took a nap, then set out with a parasol to the complex entrance.

“The owner here is a woman, and she has female stylists too.”

As soon as they entered, Gan Xun told the owner, “Best if you do the wash yourself.”

The owner glanced at Zhao Chiyun’s voluminous hair and flatly said it would cost extra.

Gan Xun had expected as much—whoever did it would charge more. She didn’t haggle.

Gan Xun had prepped her beforehand, so Zhao Chiyun knew the hair-washing process and wasn’t nervous.

Enter the shop, lie back for the wash, then get up and sit while someone blow-dried her hair.

She didn’t have to do a thing. The only rule to remember was not to yell at anyone.

Before lying down, she saw a woman next to her getting her hair washed by a young man. That’s when she understood why Gan Xun had insisted on a “female stylist.”

While they waited, she said to Gan Xun, “So most hair washers are men. How did you know I couldn’t accept that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Common sense. Could an ancient woman accept a strange man touching her head? I don’t even like male stylists—think you could?”

Gan Xun wasn’t an idiot.

“Why don’t you like them?”

Male stylists were usually too opinionated. They weren’t providing service—they were acting like know-it-all dads.

Gan Xun explained.

A customer came over to inquire about getting a membership card, so the owner stepped away and hadn’t returned yet.

Gan Xun sat beside her. “You have so much hair. I really want to ask—do you people never cut it your whole lives? This isn’t even that long for you.”

Zhao Chiyun shook her head. “No. The body and hair are gifts from one’s parents and shouldn’t be cut arbitrarily. But for neatness and propriety, they should be trimmed regularly.”

“That’s what I thought. You’re not dumb.”

Zhao Chiyun shot her a glance. “Nonsense.”

Gan Xun laughed again.

The blow dryer was noisy, and Zhao Chiyun didn’t like it. She kept frowning.

In the mirror, Gan Xun sat on the waiting-area sofa—sometimes checking her phone, sometimes lost in a daze, sometimes looking her way with curved eyes and a wink.

Zhao Chiyun calmed down.

She thought back to the night before last, when Gan Xun had dried her dripping wet hair and talked to her about equality for all and the divisions of the nine ranks. Gan Xun had soothed her uneasy heart just like now.

If she couldn’t return to the Mirror Country, at least she had Gan Xun.