Chapter 25: Expectations Fall Back

Gan Xun successfully led Zhao Chiyun back.

Garden Neighborhood, Building 17, Room 302.

402, your guitar playing sounds awful. 301, stop arguing and staying up late.

This was their shelter on that stormy typhoon night.

Before they returned, their dawdling had drawn attention. By the time they decided to leave, people in uniforms already stood before them.

They asked about the situation with stern concern.

“This matter no longer concerns you. You may leave.”

Zhao Chiyun issued the order, thinking it made her seem approachable.

Gan Xun’s heart raced in fear. She silently called out to the mother she had no memory of, pulled the woman back, and positioned herself in front of Zhao Chiyun.

Facing the officer about to admonish them, she apologized politely with a good attitude. “Sorry, my friend isn’t great with words.”

She offered a sincere explanation. “My friend’s phone was lost. We couldn’t reach the person who picked it up earlier and suspected they weren’t returning it on purpose, so we wanted to file a report first. But that person replied, so we’re heading over to get it now.”

Gan Xun appeared sensible and upright, her tone natural. Although Zhao Chiyun’s words had been blunt, her gaze was calm, and her demeanor suggested wealth and nobility.

With the weather worsening, the two fair-skinned young women faced no further questioning.

But their backpacks and handbags were checked, revealing only clothes and daily necessities.

They received instructions to hurry back home after retrieving the phone and not go out again that day.

And so, the two returned home just as they had left.

For some reason, Gan Xun felt none of the anticipated burden or anxiety of caring for someone from ancient times. On the contrary, this was the most relaxed moment she had in days.

Her mood felt a bit like reclaiming something lost, even though she had never possessed it, let alone lost it.

She had thought that upon Zhao Chiyun’s return, they would embrace to celebrate staying in the modern world. She would offer restrained but praising words, perhaps even something trite like “You’re a good person.”

But nothing happened. Not a thing.

Zhao Chiyun acted as if she had just gone out for a stroll. She sat down, untied her shoelaces with the precise movements of threading a needle in embroidery.

She put the shoes away in the shoe cabinet on her own, then slipped on slippers and walked further inside.

She did not even glance at Gan Xun, who had been watching her the whole time.

However, she was not deliberately ignoring Gan Xun. With calm composure, she said to Gan Xun behind her, “Put the items from the bag back in their places.”

She sat on the sofa and opened the tablet Gan Xun had used for six years, unlocking it with ease.

She quickly spotted typhoon-related news, tapped into it, and frowned worriedly like a queen handling state affairs.

Gan Xun, who had imagined all sorts of scenarios only to be ignored, stood there at a loss.

As she put Zhao Chiyun’s worn clothes back in the closet, a phrase to describe Zhao Chiyun came to mind:

Unmoved by external things, undisturbed by personal sorrows.

Whether it fit perfectly or not, it came close enough.

Gan Xun had sent her away, and she showed no resentment or sadness. Gan Xun kept her at home, and she displayed no wild joy.

Recalling their first meeting, Zhao Chiyun seemed to have accepted her lost wealth and honor—being cast into a strange, indifferent land—even faster than Gan Xun had.

If Gan Xun were in her place, she could never manage it.

Thrown into any era unrelated to her own, she would not have the strength to face it. She would surely cry for days.

Zhao Chiyun had not shed a single tear.

She seemed born with noble grace and cultivated the resilience to adapt to any circumstance.

From the perspective of an ordinary woman, Gan Xun admired her greatly.

For lunch, besides hot sparerib soup, she stir-fried two plates of vegetables.

As the aroma of home cooking filled the kitchen, Gan Xun remembered to tell Cui Can about it.

Cui Can replied without surprise: [I’ll come play at your place after the typhoon passes.]

Her indifference made Gan Xun feel as if she were someone who did this sort of thing often, though she did not.

She also did not think she felt anything particularly special toward Zhao Chiyun, like the intense reluctance to part that Cui Can implied.

Wasn’t this the most basic, ordinary reaction?

A compatible friend had come to stay, and they had just grown familiar. She did not want her to leave abruptly—who wouldn’t understand that?

This friend was alone and helpless. Leaving her would mean enduring much hardship. As a kind person, letting her stay was not strange at all.

Right?

Cui Can only knew her sexual orientation and thus assumed romance where there was mere friendship.

Just as Cui Can could not understand why Gan Xun had stayed single for over twenty years and showed no interest in her partner, who had good family background, looks, and temper.

Before the meal, Zhao Chiyun drank a small half-bowl of sparerib soup. The way she held the bowl resembled a figure stepping out of a museum portrait, with her ring finger and pinky slightly raised.

If they had napkins instead of tissues at home, the gesture would probably have included dabbing her mouth with a silk handkerchief now and then, as if something might leak out otherwise.

During the interval when Gan Xun observed her, Zhao Chiyun spoke up. “I want to go to the hair salon this afternoon. Is it still open? Can we go out?”

Gan Xun glanced at her hair. “It’s still clean and fluffy. Can’t it wait a couple more days?”

Zhao Chiyun showed an expression of utter intolerance, as if shouting insolence.

Gan Xun had no choice but to agree. “Then not this afternoon—let’s go right after eating. It might pour harder later and make it hard to go out.”

Zhao Chiyun picked up a chopstick of Chinese yam, took a small bite, chewed slowly, and then said, “I want to cut my hair off.”

Gan Xun thought she had misheard. After confirming, she felt surprised and uncomprehending. “Can you bear to? You’ve grown it for so many years, taken such good care of it. It’s precious.”

She felt she did not understand ancient people—or Zhao Chiyun—after all. Weren’t they supposed to treasure their hair like a treasure and never neglect it?

“When one’s situation is like this, how can hair be considered precious?”

“Long hair is inconvenient without someone to serve you. It draws the eyes of commoners on the street and is hard to wash at home. Going to a shop costs extra—can your purse handle it every two days?”

“Since we can’t leave in three to five days, we shouldn’t cling to the past or future. The present matters more.”

After her grand speech, she even reproached Gan Xun. “How do you not even understand this principle?”

Gan Xun was a great person overall, just occasionally silly. She needed simple things spelled out.

“?

Gan Xun had felt sorry for her earlier, but now realized her empathy had been in vain.

Who didn’t understand the principle?

Executing it was too hard. Gan Xun had wanted to say it since the last hair wash—if living in modern times, she must cut it.

Otherwise, it cost dozens of yuan each time, plus fifty-plus minutes to wash and blow-dry. Who had the money and time for that every time?

But she had not dared suggest it, fearing Grand County Princess Zhao would scold her, a commoner, for not understanding propriety.

She had not expected Zhao Chiyun to overcome her mental barriers so quickly and make a rational decision.

Gan Xun instinctively felt she would look even better after cutting it. Long hair in an updo with hairpins was beautiful in ancient times, but redundant now.

And it was hot in summer.

After lunch, Zhao Chiyun rose a step ahead of Gan Xun.

Deigning to lower herself, she said calmly, “I’ll wash the dishes today. Just teach me.”

To Gan Xun, who smiled and planned to refuse, she said, “I must thank you. Thank you for your reluctance to part and your kindness.”

Before Gan Xun could say no need, she continued in a distant, formal tone. “I know it’s not easy for you. I will think of a way to stand on my own soon and surely repay you in the future.”

Gan Xun’s smile faded slightly.

“Since I can’t leave, I can’t just act as a noble guest.”

“Even if you know hierarchy and respect me, I am not discourteous. Since I agreed, I must do what needs doing. I will share the housework.”

Zhao Chiyun finished speaking like a normal person, feeling quite pleased with herself.

She learned quickly and strove to blend into common life.

Who knew how much she had learned from books and the internet these past days? She seemed to have devised a survival strategy already.

It gave Gan Xun the illusion that if left alone, she could quickly take root in this city with just the two bags Gan Xun had given her.

More resilient than Robinson.

Gan Xun leaned back in her dining chair and looked up at her.

They sat at right angles to each other for meals, convenient for watching shows at similar angles.

Her pale-colored eyes fell on those hands, untouched by hardship or weathering. Hearing such reassuring words, Gan Xun was not happy, though she did not know why.

She did not want to dwell on it and torment herself. She stood up and taught Zhao Chiyun how to clear the table in a businesslike manner.

Zhao Chiyun was quick-witted but clumsy with her hands. She understood instantly but lacked execution. Things ended up a mess, and she accidentally chipped a dinner plate.

Gan Xun said it was fine.

Zhao Chiyun placed the dirty plates, cups, and bowls in the sink. Her wrists bent slightly from holding them, like fragile flower stems.

The plate edge was too oily and slippery; she failed to grip it, and it clattered to the floor in pieces.

Gan Xun’s heart nearly shattered.

She stood beside Zhao Chiyun, who was about to put on an apron, utterly exhausted as she interrupted. “Let me wash them. If you break more, there’ll be nothing left to eat off of.”

Zhao Chiyun yielded smoothly, picked up the apron, and raised her hand slightly.

Gan Xun bent down, and it was draped over her like an award presentation. As she straightened, she caught a glimpse of a smile tugging at Zhao Chiyun’s lowered lip corner.

Gan Xun suddenly understood the emotional fluctuation from earlier—because of expectations falling back.

Those few minutes of conversation at the police station had been their most genuine moment in days.

Though there was no overly intimate physical contact, their hearts had been close.

Zhao Chiyun had gently memorized her phone number, promised to call, advised her to take care, and soothed her emotions.

Gan Xun had thought Zhao Chiyun understood that she brought her back because she was Zhao Chiyun—the person she respected and got along with—not the legendary Qinghe County Princess.

Back home, she realized Zhao Chiyun did not understand. Someone accustomed to flattery and servitude struggled to comprehend pure goodwill.

Zhao Chiyun merely thanked her, satisfied with her devotion, willing to follow house rules, and promised not to shortchange her later.

That was all.

Gan Xun felt disappointed because of it.

Only upon seeing Zhao Chiyun suppressing a laugh, revealing a hint of slyness, did she feel the woman before her grow a bit closer again.

It was that woman who had immaturely pulled a gun on her, peeled lychees for her, and asked in the night if they could hug once more…

Gan Xun suddenly felt troubled. What now—were they going to sleep like this from here on out?

“You saw through it. It was a bit intentional.”

“Don’t wrongly accuse me.”

Zhao Chiyun smiled and circled behind her, tying the apron strings at her waist. “It’s because it’s the first time. You’ll know next time.”

Afraid to tie it too tight lest Gan Xun complain, she gauged it roughly before slowly knotting it.

County Princess did things unhurriedly, never knowing haste.

Gan Xun instinctively held her breath. Zhao Chiyun’s hands brushed her lower back now and then— a little itchy, a little tingly.

She endured it without saying anything.

Zhao Chiyun finished tying it to her satisfaction and looked up from behind Gan Xun.

Gan Xun’s hair was held with a so-called shark clip, her stray hairs looking both cute and casual. A layer of pink flushed behind her ears and on her neck.

“Are you hot?” Zhao Chiyun asked.

The kitchen had only a small fan, hardly enough to cool.

“Hot. You go out first. I’ll be done soon.”

Gan Xun shooed her out and steadied her breathing and emotions.

“How short do you want your hair?” After washing her hands and applying hand cream, Gan Xun came over to ask.

Zhao Chiyun stood before the full-length mirror to decide. Gan Xun held her palm downward and gestured vaguely at her waist. “To here?”

She asked conservatively.

Afraid it would be too short, leading to tears and blame.

Zhao Chiyun did not look in the mirror but down at Gan Xun’s hand. After the hand cream, her skin gleamed with a moist sheen.

“Since we’ve decided to cut it, no need to hesitate. Make it… a bit longer than yours.”

Gan Xun’s hair was a tad too short.

“Over the shoulders okay?”

Gan Xun raised her hand and lightly touched her shoulder bone.

This time, Zhao Chiyun observed via the mirror. Gan Xun seriously helped her decide, her body carrying a fresh, warm scent.

Her hands were attractive—and warm—transmitting heat through the clothes.

She took Gan Xun’s hand and moved it an inch below the shoulder.

“Here.”