No.
“You have to distinguish between polite words and sincere words.”
Under Cui Can’s greeting, Gan Xun walked into the house while casually answering Zhao Chiyun.
A woman who would demand that others prostrate themselves at night should count herself lucky to have such a strikingly classical beauty of a face.
She didn’t need to doubt whether others were just being polite.
The long table was laid out with food and desserts. The drinks were vibrantly colored, much like Lan Xiaoxi herself, who seemed brighter because it was her birthday.
Cui Can’s voice stood out clearly amid the chatter as she teased Lan Xiaoxi, who clearly didn’t want to hear it and turned on some music.
The music was rock-style—loud and boisterous—but it still couldn’t drown out Cui Can’s laughter.
During work hours, Lan Xiaoxi and Cui Can always remembered to act as proper role models, the kind of teachers parents could trust.
But in private, they both brimmed with vibrant energy.
Those with low emotional intelligence might call it: totally crazy.
Gan Xun had grown used to it over the years. She wasn’t surprised. She exchanged a glance with Tang Sifeng, who looked helpless yet indulgently amused as she chimed in, and they both smiled at each other.
People arrived one after another. Night hadn’t fully fallen yet, so everyone ate and chatted.
Gan Xun and Zhao Chiyun weren’t close with the others. Cui Can was busy flirting and socializing, so the two of them didn’t seek attention. They sat in a corner, whispering to each other.
“Is that guy a colleague of yours?”
Zhao Chiyun glanced over. “That’s right. Teaches calligraphy, I think his surname is Hu.”
Gan Xun watched him peacocking so hard. “He likes Lan Xiaoxi, doesn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t know. Are you jealous?”
Gan Xun thought she was picking a fight and shot her a look.
But Zhao Chiyun’s expression was earnest, without any intent to stir trouble. It was like a serious question.
She wouldn’t even find it strange if Gan Xun said yes.
Gan Xun was at a loss for words. She felt there was some cross-dimensional cultural gap between her and Zhao Chiyun.
She thought they’d opened up to each other, that Zhao Chiyun understood her feelings.
Even if she still wanted to leave and had no intention of staying together, she’d at least trust her.
Yet here Zhao Chiyun was, asking if she’d get jealous over someone else.
Gan Xun fell silent and pressed her lips together tightly.
Zhao Chiyun thus heard her answer. She said softly, “Just kidding with you.”
Gan Xun mimicked the little hums she usually made.
Zhao Chiyun offered her half a matcha mini-cake as a peace offering.
From her observations, Zhao Chiyun remarked, “This house is nice—spacious and serene. Lan Xiaoxi’s family must be well-off.”
“But this birthday party is smaller than I expected.”
When she’d received the invitation, Zhao Chiyun had assumed it would be a grand affair.
“Her family isn’t here, and with just over ten friends, it’s hardly lively.”
Gan Xun asked her casually, “How do you celebrate birthdays at home?”
Zhao Chiyun thought back. “First, we pay respects to the Ministry of Rites, then prepare a banquet for guests.”
Gan Xun opened a mental memo.
“Rise at dawn to worship ancestors and light candles, don auspicious attire, kowtow to parents. Then greet guests and receive blessings.”
“After the banquet, either watch opera and dance, or acrobatics, fireworks; release animals for merit, give out porridge, light lamps.”
“Oh, right, and donate incense to temples and shrines.”
Gan Xun gave up note-taking and mentally deleted the memo.
No wonder she thought the setup was small. Just hearing the process was exhausting.
“Such a huge production? It’s a waste of manpower and resources.”
The commoner protested.
Zhao Chiyun gave her a faint look. “It’s just following protocol—and we’ve already simplified it greatly. Other manors have even more extravagant, wasteful customs.”
Gan Xun caught a whiff of decadence and dug into the juicy bits from that life of luxury. “Those singers and dancers must have all been gorgeous, right?”
“Naturally—some coquettish, some seductive, all with free-spirited temperaments. I knew three or five of them well; they often came to my banquets.”
A trace of nostalgia flickered in Zhao Chiyun’s eyes.
Gan Xun said, “Then they must miss you terribly.”
” Washing their faces with tears every day, no doubt.”
Not quite.
Gan Xun’s mind conjured a scene of Zhao Chiyun carousing with songstresses and dancers.
Zhao Chiyun needed reforming.
While everyone’s makeup was still fresh and energy high, the photo session started. Zhao Chiyun wasn’t used to being photographed by strangers, so she gripped Gan Xun’s hand tightly.
After the group photo, Cui Can pushed them together for a couple shot.
Soon after, the photo was instantly shared with Zhao Chiyun, leaving her amazed and thrilled.
There were always new wonders here that she couldn’t get enough of.
In the photo, she and Gan Xun wore matching tones: a light blue shirt and a sapphire long skirt. Gan Xun’s gentle eyes looked at the camera, while she, feeling awkward, turned her profile toward Gan Xun.
The shot came out looking intimate. Because of Cui Can and Tang Sifeng’s relationship, someone asked if they were a couple.
Aside from Cui Can and Lan Xiaoxi, the rest were all sorts of strangers. Though everyone was friendly, Gan Xun didn’t like having her privacy probed in public.
Especially with Zhao Chiyun’s colleague there—she didn’t want to out her without permission.
Plus the facts of the matter. Gan Xun smiled. “We’re not.”
“Just friends, huh?”
For now, they were friends.
But that “just” qualifier made her unwilling to nod along.
This time, Zhao Chiyun nodded in response. “Just friends.”
She held a glass of fruit fizzy water. Gan Xun sat close enough to smell the sweet scent from her lips as she spoke.
And the chill from the ice cubes.
Zhao Chiyun’s answer was perfectly fine.
Asking about someone’s love life seemed like casual small talk before socializing.
Once it was clear they weren’t a couple, both Zhao Chiyun and Gan Xun got added to the group chat by a few people.
Fortunately, everyone had basic boundaries. No one pried deeper into Zhao Chiyun’s life, so the canned responses she’d prepared went unused.
During the games, Zhao Chiyun didn’t join, just sat watching.
Gan Xun got really into the card game, but her results were always poor. Zhao Chiyun didn’t understand the rules but could tell her luck was rotten.
Because she’d drunk a lot.
The punishments were set in advance, so even Cui Can, in the game, couldn’t help.
Lan Xiaoxi, as the birthday girl, drank two cups for her, saying that if someone got drunk at her party, it was her fault.
What if they stumbled and got hurt outside? She’d be responsible.
Zhao Chiyun knew Gan Xun disliked drinking, but for some reason, even knowing she’d likely lose, she kept playing.
And let Lan Xiaoxi drink for her.
After several rounds, Gan Xun was dizzy from the alcohol. She bowed out citing low tolerance, and someone else took her place.
She realized Zhao Chiyun wasn’t behind her anymore, so she headed toward the balcony.
No one there.
Then she must have gone to the bathroom.
The evening breeze carried a hint of dampness. Night was hazy, the moonlight softened at its edges.
Gan Xun figured it might rain soon.
She leaned on the railing for air, looking down at the colorful balloons drifting in the yard below.
A childish impulse struck: to snip one at random and watch it float free.
Then came sudden terror.
Where on earth was Zhao Chiyun?
Why hadn’t she said anything? Gan Xun realized she’d neglected her, panic seizing her chest, breath catching.
“Gan Xun.”
The familiar voice called from behind.
Gan Xun came back to life.
But alcohol dulled her thoughts and movements, so she stayed in her balloon-watching pose.
The balcony’s railing wasn’t low, but Gan Xun was tall. Leaning like that looked dangerous.
Zhao Chiyun thought she might tumble over any second.
She approached and pulled the oblivious woman aside.
She saw Gan Xun’s drunken, hazy eyes—profound and affectionate in the night, no exotic features.
Her heart softened again. She said gently, “A person of wealth does not sit under a crumbling wall.”
Gan Xun looked even more confused.
Her school grades had been decent, but her literary knowledge was average. She often couldn’t follow what Zhao Chiyun said.
Just as Zhao Chiyun couldn’t grasp her modern slang.
“I don’t get it,” she admitted.
Seeing her adorably dumbstruck, Zhao Chiyun smiled. “It means a gentleman does not stand under a dangerous wall. Precious people must cherish their bodies.”
“Don’t lean on the railing when drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” Gan Xun said.
She just wanted to free a balloon, that’s all.
Zhao Chiyun smiled without replying.
Gan Xun added, “It’s only the second floor. Grass below—no big deal if I fall.”
She leaned back in, though not as far over this time, grinning carelessly. “What makes me so precious? If something happened to me, only you and Cui Can would be sad for a couple days.”
Precious people were usually surrounded by admirers.
She cracked a lame joke. Under Zhao Chiyun’s now-serious gaze, she shut her mouth.
She straightened up and obediently stepped away from the railing.
The night breeze swept over, warm and humid with summer’s touch, tangling their hair.
Zhao Chiyun’s tone cooled. “Don’t say things like that again.”
Gan Xun felt crappy for finishing her jerkish remark. It was low-class—Zhao Chiyun was concerned, and she’d brushed it off.
So she nodded solemnly.
Remembering Zhao Chiyun’s earlier comment, she asked, “Do you like this house?”
“What, you gonna buy it?”
The vast gap rarely made Gan Xun feel inferior. She admitted frankly, “Not the means yet.”
She saw Zhao Chiyun’s knowing smile and grinned back.
“Tomorrow I’m meeting my old boss for dinner. Whether we work it out or not, I’ll be starting the job in August.”
“My salary will be higher then. Planning to rent something bigger—at least two rooms. We can each have our own.”
Gan Xun laid out her plans.
Zhao Chiyun caught the key point. “So once you have money, you won’t share a bed with me anymore.”
It made Gan Xun sound like a rich jerk who turns scumbag.
She shook her head emphatically. “No, I just want a bigger place. Sleeping together—I still want that.”
“You know me best,” she reminded her.
Zhao Chiyun’s gaze seemed to flicker in the wind. She paused, then agreed. “Alright. I’ll pay you rent then.”
Gan Xun flashed a smug, big-spender grin. “No need. Serving the County Princess is my honor.”
Originally, Gan Xun hadn’t planned to change houses, since Zhao Chiyun might leave anytime. Living alone in a big place would hurt more.
But hearing Zhao Chiyun say she liked the villa made her think: no villa, but upgrading was easy. Even in their limited time together, they shouldn’t settle.
She wanted Zhao Chiyun more comfortable.
Wanted her to think fondly of her later.
Worst case, she’d move again after Zhao Chiyun left.
As she thought this, Zhao Chiyun cupped her face, studying it closely, as if her features were still unfamiliar.
“You’ve had too much. You look pitiable even on sight.”
Gan Xun was indeed tipsy, but the compliment embarrassed her. She wanted to say something to break the shyness.
She asked, “Wanna kiss?”
Zhao Chiyun didn’t answer—but bolder than the rash asker, she kissed her lips for real.
Summer night, evening breeze, the tart sweetness of fruit wine.
Gan Xun was both nervous and thrilled, worried someone might come, yet feeling a bold “let ’em see.”
” Just friends” had battered her heart all evening. She hated it but had to accept it.
Only now did Zhao Chiyun’s gentle kiss soothe her.
The drunken haze melted away.
When they were loath to part, Zhao Chiyun paused, admired her up close with an enigmatic chuckle, then dove back into a deeper kiss.
