Chapter 50: The Hanging Moon

“Is that so?”

Her voice was like summer leaves lightly falling onto the water amid the sounds of oars and lantern shadows. Her eyes, however, were like the lake itself, shimmering with an almost luxurious luster.

Gan Xun felt too embarrassed to show her face under that gaze. The words had already left her mouth, so she couldn’t take them back. “Yeah.”

She had originally wanted to save face by saying that human nature was inherently vile and frivolous at its core, always wanting an inch after getting a foot, which was why elaborate etiquette and rules had been invented to restrain the self.

But as a mere commoner, she didn’t dare to speak so boldly or presume to represent the masses in front of nobility.

Gan Xun usually didn’t like talking about such things. It was easy to get her to run errands, but as difficult as ascending to heaven to get her to open her heart.

For some reason tonight, it was like the hanging moon—unusually candid, even righteously assertive.

As a result, Zhao Chiyun hadn’t fully shaken off the tingling sensation from being teased earlier before she fell into a new whirlpool, dizzy and unsteady, unable to even see the person right in front of her clearly.

She didn’t know how to respond, but she calmed down anyway.

Her expression didn’t change much. She huffed as usual and retorted, “Glib tongue and honeyed words.”

Before this, Gan Xun had often looked at her with eyes as soft as a spring breeze in April. Even when occasionally presumptuous—draping an arm over her shoulder or kissing the center of her lips—it had still been fairly restrained.

Not like tonight.

“I’m serious.”

Zhao Chiyun raised a doubt. “Then why didn’t you say so before?”

Gan Xun gave her that obedient but insincere smile again, in Zhao Chiyun’s view. “I held back. Otherwise, if I started groping around like a pervert, you definitely would’ve slapped me.”

Zhao Chiyun paused for a moment before nodding calmly. “That’s exactly what I was thinking just now.”

Gan Xun froze and looked at her serious expression, asking curiously, “Then why didn’t you slap me?”

Zhao Chiyun sat up primly. “Considering it’s your first offense, I’ll spare you this once.”

Gan Xun couldn’t help it. “Oh, so it’s not because you liked it too?”

Help!

Her heart pounded chaotically, leaving her short of breath. She felt her probing was so amateurish that even someone from ancient times who had never dated would see through it.

It took a great effort not to blurt out “I was just talking nonsense, ignore me” and beat a retreat.

Zhao Chiyun looked at her for a few seconds, then lowered her gaze with a tiny shake of her head. “If it weren’t for that, your hand would’ve been chopped off long ago.”

Gan Xun felt a phantom pain and tucked her hand behind her back.

Then she realized what Zhao Chiyun had just said back to her. She leaned forward, lowered her head, and in one of the countless ordinary little rooms under the staggering night sky, closely examined the County Princess of Mirror Country’s expression.

“Does that mean you like me too?”

She asked Zhao Chiyun.

“Rambling.”

Zhao Chiyun called her.

Still not satisfied, she scolded clearly, “You knew the answer and asked anyway.”

“If I didn’t ask, I wouldn’t dare confirm it.”

Zhao Chiyun said, “How could that be? A long time ago, I already told you—you’re the most worthy of being liked.”

Gan Xun replied, “I’m not sure if the ‘like’ you meant back then is the same as what you’re saying now.”

This even confused Zhao Chiyun a bit. “How many kinds of ‘like’ are there?”

“In my view, there’s only ever been one kind.”

Gan Xun broke into a smile. Whatever kind it was, it was fine.

Receiving Zhao Chiyun’s affection was more important than anything.

She wanted to hold Zhao Chiyun’s hand resting on her lap and reached out. Somehow, it was misunderstood. Her hand was pinned down, and a chop landed on her wrist.

Zhao Chiyun looked at her warily, thinking that now that they’d talked about “liking,” Gan Xun’s naughty intentions were stirring again and she was about to grope around.

Gan Xun said innocently, “I just wanted to hold hands!”

Zhao Chiyun snorted coldly. “How was I supposed to know?”

Gan Xun solemnly gave her a crash course in the law. “Here, private punishment isn’t allowed, and there’s no such thing as chopping off hands. It’s inhumane.”

Zhao Chiyun wasn’t listening and ignored her. “That’s your world here.”

Gan Xun, soaked in honey and overindulging in sweetness, had let her guard down. She carelessly touched the bitterness hidden behind the candy and suddenly woke up.

That was right—they each had their own worlds.

So what if they liked each other? It was just a fleeting epiphany, like a flash in the pan.

She gathered her thoughts, still smiling as she said, “Alright, my bad. Let me apologize. From now on, without your permission, I won’t touch you recklessly anymore.”

“Okay?” She wheedled for agreement.

Zhao Chiyun asked, “Just a verbal apology?”

“Not enough?”

“Then what should you do?”

The County Princess Zhao Chiyun’s authority didn’t diminish. “According to Mirror Country’s etiquette, someone apologizing to me can’t just sit there. They must perform the kneeling rite.”

Gan Xun went all in and complied smoothly, switching from cross-legged to kneeling. “Please instruct me, County Princess.”

Zhao Chiyun actually started guiding her. “First, kneel straight, hands on your thighs.”

“Then place them at your sides.”

“Bow forward, kowtow.”

By the end, amusement hid in Zhao Chiyun’s voice, as if she knew where a modern person’s bottom line was but insisted on pushing it anyway.

Gan Xun followed obediently up to the bow, then suddenly veered off course halfway. Of course, she didn’t actually kowtow.

Instead, she crawled onto one of Zhao Chiyun’s legs.

“Mirror Country has no such custom.”

Zhao Chiyun’s voice came from above her head, carrying a chill and thinly veiled displeasure.

She gently stroked Gan Xun’s head and patted it.

As if hugging a cat.

Gan Xun felt very comfortable but noticed her hand was ice-cold, so she sat up, took it, and kissed it.

Zhao Chiyun was scalded by the warm lips and instinctively tried to pull back.

Gan Xun thought she was still upset and wouldn’t let her retreat. Smiling, she asked, “You wouldn’t really want me to kowtow to you, would you? No way.”

“All people are equal, my County Princess.”

“I figured you wouldn’t obey anyway.” Zhao Chiyun hadn’t really expected her to.

After the lights were turned off, Gan Xun quieted down. Setting aside all the earlier commotion, she returned to the original topic.

She rolled over and pressed, “Haven’t you ever had those thoughts I mentioned?”

If it had been with a modern person, after mutual confessions, many things would naturally follow their course—whether they worked out or not could be dealt with later.

But with an ancient person, she wasn’t sure about the boundaries.

It wasn’t entirely for Zhao Chiyun’s sake, but also for her own. She couldn’t be too indulgent, giving herself too much sweetness, or it would be hard to go from luxury to frugality later.

Zhao Chiyun seemed sleepy and denied it after a pause. “This County Princess is upright and honorable. How could I have improper thoughts?”

Gan Xun was baffled by the ancient person’s implication. What did that have to do with being upright and honorable?

Unless Zhao Chiyun had never truly liked anyone else.

Otherwise, how could she not want to get close?

Unwilling to back down, Gan Xun countered, “Is that so? Then that night we kissed, when I was about to fall asleep, why did you go change your underwear?”

“You!”

Zhao Chiyun got annoyed and rolled over, facing away, not wanting to deal with her.

After a while, she said to the wall, “It’s not to my taste. It’s like monthly affairs—how could I control it?”

Gan Xun admired how quickly she sidestepped the trap. She smiled and decided not to push her further.

Facing her back of the head, she said, “Right, physiological reactions don’t mean anything. We can’t conflate them.”

She didn’t want to press Zhao Chiyun too hard. Tonight’s Zhao Chiyun was very shy, different from the unclear kisses before.

Perhaps after baring one’s feelings, people instinctively flinched a bit.

She did, and so did Zhao Chiyun.

Finally, she asked, “Can I hold you while we sleep? Nothing else.”

Zhao Chiyun magnanimously said, “Fine, I suppose.”

Her magnanimity sounded quite reluctant.

After Gan Xun hugged her, her own heart settled down too.

Soon, she heard Zhao Chiyun ask curiously, “If I allowed you to be presumptuous, what would you do to me?”

“What have you been holding back all this time?”

It felt a bit like entrapment. Gan Xun didn’t want to get scolded.

“What can you do now? It’s your period.”

“How did you…”

Zhao Chiyun had steeled herself mentally, wanting to hear a brazen answer, but she still hadn’t expected Gan Xun to go straight there.

But in someone else’s arms, she couldn’t say harsh words.

She held back from scolding and gave up on communicating.

Gan Xun chuckled a few times, then quickly stopped pretending to laugh. Anyway, Zhao Chiyun wouldn’t bear to scold her.

She snuggled closer and whispered a body part into Zhao Chiyun’s ear.

Zhao Chiyun flushed hot in the darkness and immediately clamped her hands over her ears. Of course she wouldn’t agree, and she ignored her after that.

The summer night slowly melted away.

Gan Xun lay awake. She didn’t have strong physical desires, but mentally, it was tough. She wanted Zhao Chiyun to be her girlfriend very, very much.

She wasn’t sure if Zhao Chiyun meant that.

She didn’t know how to convince herself—or Zhao Chiyun.

Reason told her not to be so greedy. But people got anxious, uneasy, and pained precisely because they didn’t listen to reason.

Lan Xiaoxi created a group chat with over ten people. She posted the address and some play rules.

In the dress code section, she wrote, “Rheumatism sufferers prohibited: No fashionistas allowed.”

Zhao Chiyun didn’t understand. “What does that mean?”

Gan Xun explained, “Trendy means fashionable. Simply put, no dressing flashy and stealing the female lead’s spotlight.”

Zhao Chiyun nodded. She understood that and promised to dress plainly.

Gan Xun laughed at her promise. “Just normal clothes are fine. Good thing it’s not a pajama party. I was scared when I heard Cui Can suggest it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Self-explanatory—everyone wears their own pajamas.”

Zhao Chiyun looked down at her purple nightgown that barely covered her, as if she’d heard utter nonsense.

“I don’t understand you people.” She said solemnly.

Gan Xun nodded. “Sometimes I don’t either.”

She quietly thought she didn’t understand Zhao Chiyun either.

That night, Cui Can drove to pick them up.

In the car, Gan Xun asked if that certain someone would come today. Cui Can said yes, straightforwardly.

When they arrived, they saw her.

Tang Sifeng was a lawyer with a naturally smiling face that made her seem very approachable.

Her hair was almost as long as Zhao Chiyun’s now, successfully overturning Cui Can’s previous misunderstood tastes.

Zhao Chiyun was quite satisfied and whispered to Gan Xun, “This one looks much better.”

Gan Xun brought up old dirt. “Right? At least she wouldn’t kneel on the ground just to stand up and grab a charger for you.”

“Why are you so obnoxious?”

Zhao Chiyun didn’t want to remember at all.

She didn’t want Gan Xun remembering either, lest she get corrupted.

Lan Xiaoxi celebrated two birthdays every year. Before the one with her family, she always gathered with friends first.

This time, with Gan Xun and the others joining, it was livelier than usual.

Luckily, her family’s vacant villa in the north of the city was perfect for a party since no one lived there.

The site had been decorated. As soon as they entered the yard, they saw black and purple balloons with gold or silver writing—blessings.

Lan Xiaoxi dressed in a dopamine color palette today—seemingly casual, but it showed her effort.

She’d styled her hair meticulously and had exquisite makeup.

Gan Xun politely complimented, “The birthday girl looks gorgeous today.”

Lan Xiaoxi happily said thanks.

She told them they could sign the balloons too.

Zhao Chiyun didn’t get it but nodded calmly anyway.

She watched Gan Xun finish writing and add a smiley face after her name before handing it to Lan Xiaoxi.

She glanced at Gan Xun, then lightly wrote “Zhao Chiyun” on a balloon—slightly crooked because she didn’t dare press hard—and added a smiley face just like that.

Lan Xiaoxi took the two balloons and tied them to the railing at the steps, together with Cui Can’s and Tang Sifeng’s.

The wind blew, but the balloons didn’t pop. Better quality than expected, Zhao Chiyun thought.

Gan Xun’s smiley was bigger than hers.

She heard someone humming the birthday song. Gan Xun was glad she’d tutored Zhao Chiyun at home in advance.

Lest there be a singing segment and Zhao Chiyun couldn’t keep up, making people suspect she was an alien.

Zhao Chiyun had been very surprised at the time. “Gan Xun, you’re going to sing for her yourself?”

It sounded like Gan Xun was planning to offer herself up tonight.

The full-named Gan Xun explained it was a necessary procedure, and Zhao Chiyun accepted.

Gan Xun’s singing wasn’t exceptional but wasn’t bad. After her demo, Zhao Chiyun couldn’t help kissing her.

She praised, “You’re outstanding no matter what you do.”

Really?

Gan Xun felt she truly liked her a lot.

Very subjective.

As Gan Xun prepared to go inside, she noticed Zhao Chiyun was distracted. “What’s wrong? Not feeling well?”

Zhao Chiyun glanced at her. “Nothing. I just remembered your past chats with Teacher Lan and wondered if there’d be new gossip tonight.”

Gan Xun whispered a jab. “Why bring it up? You’re so petty.”

“You complimented her first on being pretty.”

Gan Xun realized the issue and quickly said, “It’s the same as saying ‘pleased to meet you.'”

“Would you say I’m pretty too?”