Chapter 23: Sleep It Is Part 1

Gan Xun’s inner conflict and guilt had ample space to swell in the stingy light.

It was as if this darkness was an ocean, and she kept swimming toward the shore, only to find the shore always ahead. She didn’t know whether to stop or keep going.

She wanted to touch something directly, to gain some solid support amid the drifting.

She chose to hug. A hug could express so many emotions.

Unfortunately, ancient people couldn’t receive it.

After a brief stiffness, Zhao Chiyun seemed to realize Gan Xun had no other intentions—she just planned to hug her once.

Though she didn’t know the reason, she relaxed, resting her chin lightly on Gan Xun’s shoulder.

Her voice dispelled the gloom. She asked clearly, “What are you doing?”

Her shoulder rubbed gently against Gan Xun’s, bone meeting bone.

Gan Xun felt it and said, “Every word you say is so profound. You’re more like the abbot of Grand Pacifying Nation Temple than I am. Let me hug you to soak up some Buddha aura.”

Zhao Chiyun hadn’t expected this reason. She huffed lightly. “You’re being very presumptuous.”

“Really?”

Gan Xun knew her—if she were angry, the tone wouldn’t be like this.

She didn’t move. Zhao Chiyun’s warmth and scent were held in her arms, smoothing out the wrinkles in her heart from their evening conversation.

“Let go. This is improper.”

Zhao Chiyun sounded like her patience was exhausted.

Gan Xun slowly released her hands and whispered softly, “Sorry.”

Her apology wasn’t just for the hug, and she didn’t know if Zhao Chiyun understood that.

Zhao Chiyun nodded magnanimously. “No next time.”

Gan Xun smiled. “Let’s head home. It’s so hot.”

She turned on her phone’s flashlight and climbed the stairs, illuminating the way for Zhao Chiyun.

Zhao Chiyun stepped into the light and ascended the steps, hearing the wind and rain outside the stairwell. “It’s pouring harder.”

“The typhoon’s coming. It should start raining properly tomorrow.”

Zhao Chiyun was always two steps below her. On the final two steps, Gan Xun stood above and waited for her to come up, quietly holding the light for her.

Finally, Zhao Chiyun met her gaze. Her eyes showed no oddity.

They were beautiful and deep, like a lake under moonlight.

Zhao Chiyun said softly, “This reminds me of candlelit night tours with Big Sister and Sister-in-Law. Big Sister would light the way for me like this too.”

I wouldn’t be afraid of the dark then either.

She swallowed those words.

Gan Xun pulled out her key and handed it over. “We’re on a flashlight night tour now. Same thing.”

They both fell silent after she said it.

Zhao Chiyun found the keyhole, inserted the key, and twisted it to the right, opening the door awkwardly.

She said, “Maybe we shouldn’t change the wording.”

Gan Xun replied, “I think so too.” It sounded weird. Candlelight just had more style than flashlight beams.

Cui Can’s House was much larger than Gan Xun’s little place—big enough for two cats to chase each other around. Even when Zhao Chiyun approached, they didn’t notice, lost in their conversation.

After the initial shock, Zhao Chiyun calmed down and thought it was fine. At least she now had a rough idea of the days ahead—days in Mirror Country without Gan Xun, which she could never return to anyway.

Cui Can’s House had lots of smooth stone tiles and plenty of gray tones. Gan Xun called it stylish, but Zhao Chiyun found it cold and uncomfortable.

Returning here now, she finally felt the summer heat.

With everything said, overthinking was pointless. She couldn’t change the future, and it would only delay the present.

She bent down and untied the shoelaces Gan Xun had fastened for her.

Before letting Zhao Chiyun go shower first, Gan Xun studied her expression and complexion, confirming there were no signs of drunkenness left. She was sober.

That bit of alcohol hadn’t been enough to get her drunk, but it had come, prompting them to say some deep things.

Those words let Gan Xun know the person before her understood everything—including that Gan Xun herself was unreliable.

After the bathroom’s hot water started running, corresponding noises rose from the kitchen. Gan Xun listlessly washed the blueberries clean.

She put them in a fruit bowl and set it on the dining table.

She sat waiting for Zhao Chiyun to emerge, not moving, just setting her phone aside. “Come try some.”

Under Gan Xun’s arrangements, Zhao Chiyun had changed into a nightgown with embroidered letters on the chest and cute cartoon patterns on the back.

Unlike the previous one, which had a mature style, this gave her the lively feel appropriate for her age.

But Zhao Chiyun didn’t like it much. She glanced at the back in the full-length mirror, controlled her disdainful expression with good manners, blinked, and turned it into a demure glance downward.

Gan Xun thought to herself, She won’t wear stuff that shows off her figure, so I give her cute style, but she still doesn’t like it.

Zhao Chiyun sat down, fresh from her bath, and casually picked one up. Her eyes lit up with surprise. “These black berries really are refreshing and sweet.”

“Blueberries.”

“I know.” She raised her voice.

The fruit flavor dispelled the greasiness left by the barbecue in her stomach. Gan Xun sneaked a glance at her face. Zhao Chiyun showed no extra emotions, just focused on eating the fruit, every movement elegant.

Gan Xun’s shoulder still held the phantom sensation of her chin resting there.

She raised her hand and touched the spot. The short T-shirt’s fabric was fairly thick, so Gan Xun rubbed it with her fingertips, imagining the feel of Zhao Chiyun’s jaw back then and her mood.

Zhao Chiyun looked up and caught Gan Xun’s lingering gaze—heavy and intense, making her pause for a moment.

She then pursued without politeness, “Why do the lychees still have shells?”

Gan Xun snapped back. “I don’t have a spell to make them peel themselves. Peel them yourself.”

She was willing to spend a bit more money to let her try more things, to let her experience a new world. Even a few days of travel could be remembered for a lifetime.

It wasn’t deception or wining and dining her just to send her off easily.

She wanted to treat Zhao Chiyun well. Cui Can was right—she was different with Zhao Chiyun.

Because Zhao Chiyun was different from others to begin with.

But having Gan Xun wait on her hand and foot? No way. Modern people still had some dignity.

Zhao Chiyun gave her a look.

Gan Xun responded mildly, “If you won’t do it yourself, don’t eat. This whole Lychee King haul is mine.”

“Presumptuous!”

“Don’t yell.”

They returned to their normal dynamic—one thinking it was only natural for the other to serve a noble guest and be grateful for it, the other insisting on equality and refusing to help where she shouldn’t.

In the end, Zhao Chiyun compromised with the food. The thick displeasure on her face slowly faded as she tasted the intensely sweet lychee flesh.

Soon, she peeled another one herself, her fingers nimble, nails just right for the task.

Gan Xun immediately cheered her on. “See, see? The County Princess is so clever. Nothing’s ever hard for her. Peeling a few lychees is a piece of cake.”

Zhao Chiyun could tell it was flattery. She rolled her eyes, and her stunning features made the expression devastatingly lethal. Gan Xun’s mind blanked out instantly.

Fortunately, Zhao Chiyun didn’t dwell on it and praised honestly, “Great Mirror doesn’t have any this big or this sweet.”

Gan Xun felt a bit proud. “We can’t compare on other things, but when it comes to eating, we outdo you all. Are lychees tribute items there? TV says they’re rare.”

Zhao Chiyun peeled out the flesh. “Yes, only available by imperial grant. We get them only a few times a year.”

No wonder just seeing Gan Xun buy some lychees had set her thoughts wandering.

If someone gave Gan Xun a villa now, she’d probably accept it in a flash and start pondering their intentions too.

As she thought that, Zhao Chiyun held the peeled lychee to her mouth. “Eat.”

Gan Xun opened her mouth on instinct. Only after tasting it did she realize what this meant. The County Princess herself—Gan Xun’s treatment was at least princess or empress level.

She wondered if Zhao Chiyun thought her earlier praise was to coax her into peeling them.

But she really had peeled them, even though she’d just asked why they had shells.

The flesh was plump, sweetness bursting forth. Zhao Chiyun slowly wiped her hands beside her.

Gan Xun’s heart pounded uncontrollably.

Fruit time ended. It wasn’t early anymore. The two took turns washing up and doing laundry in tacit understanding.

Zhao Chiyun no longer complained about her hands hurting from hand-washing, knowing no one would care if she did. Hmph.

While hanging clothes, thunder crashed outside, startling Zhao Chiyun, who was helping. She clung tightly to Gan Xun.

Gan Xun said, “Go inside quick. Close the door, and you won’t be scared.”

Zhao Chiyun turned and went without hesitation.

The way she moved, she probably wouldn’t look back even if lightning struck Gan Xun dead.

After hanging everything, Gan Xun securely closed the balcony doors and windows to avoid startling Zhao Chiyun again. She looked outside through the glass. Rain washed the old, cluttered scenes into its own style.

She returned to the living room and sat cross-legged on the sofa with one leg tucked under, casually replying to a few work group messages.

Zhao Chiyun sat at the other end playing on the tablet. She knew Gan Xun’s password: six 6s.

Once opened, she tapped into the video app. The first thing that popped up was the tutorials on simplified characters and pinyin she’d searched for.

She watched them one by one.

Gan Xun yawned, saw it was past eleven, and asked, “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

Zhao Chiyun closed the screen. “I told you this morning: sleeping together means together.”

Gan Xun waved her hand in refusal. “I can’t sleep with others.”

“Have you never slept with anyone?”

“…”

Gan Xun truly didn’t know how to answer that.

It depended on the kind of sleeping.

Zhao Chiyun reminded her, “At least you’ve slept with your grandmother. It’s a stormy night tonight—we might as well.”

On nights with loud thunder, female servants always kept vigil in her room, watching over her sleep. She hadn’t trusted Gan Xun that first night they met, but tonight they had opened their hearts.

They could sleep closer.

Gan Xun asked awkwardly, “Am I the same as your grandmother?”

Zhao Chiyun realized upon hearing it—how could she, the lofty Qinghe County Princess, compare to some old woman?

She was beautiful and nobly born. Gan Xun sharing space with her—even if straight, even if disrespectful—couldn’t help but admire and feel trepidation.

Fine.

She showed consideration. “I’ve already imposed on you for two nights. You sleep on the bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

Gan Xun fell quiet. She realized Zhao Chiyun was starting to speak politely, and she extremely disliked hearing it.

She still refused. “You’re the guest. I can’t let you sleep on the sofa. Besides, a couple more nights won’t kill me. My sofa’s comfy—I like it. If you came just to end up on my bed, the odds of you sleeping there are higher anyway. Go sleep there.”

“What if I don’t leave?”

Gan Xun was at a loss for words. Whenever this topic came up, she couldn’t handle it smoothly. Reason clashed with emotion.

“There’s no trick to your bed, and I already know there’s no precedent for this. Your era has no way, and your authorities can’t save me.”

Zhao Chiyun smiled lightly as she said this. “By then, forget the sofa—who knows where I’ll end up sleeping. So Gan Xun, let me sleep here. I want to try.”

Her smile made Gan Xun’s heart ache sourly.

“No.”

“Can’t you even listen to me on this small thing?”

Zhao Chiyun started getting a little angry. Even if she wasn’t a county princess anymore and couldn’t order people around at will, couldn’t she at least decide where she slept?

“Gan Xun.” She called seriously.

Gan Xun softened her voice. “It’s thundering. You’ll be scared.”

“The doors and windows are closed. No problem.”

Amid her growing impatience, Gan Xun agreed.

Gan Xun finally lay back on her own bed and sniffed. The sheets were full of Zhao Chiyun’s scent—that faint floral woody freshness flowed over her from all sides.

She didn’t know if the windows insulated sound too well or if the rain had lessened, but everything around quieted down.

Only a bedside lamp was on. The magazine Zhao Chiyun had been flipping through sat on the table.

After brushing her teeth, her mouth held the fresh mint scent mixed with the lingering sweetness of lychee.

Gan Xun suddenly felt a bit regretful. She only knew to eat—why hadn’t she asked Zhao Chiyun why she’d peeled one for her.