Chapter 53: Quitting Alcohol

The kissed fingers tingled with a persistent itch, as if bitten by a bug. Zhao Chiyun let them hang discreetly at her side, twitching slightly.

She felt unfamiliar with such tactile sensations and the process.

After stumbling into territory unrelated to her, no one saluted her anymore, and she no longer needed to say “rise.”

Before this, no “rise” had ever earned her such intimate familiarity from the other party.

How could there be a person like Gan Xun? she thought, without any derogatory intent.

She hadn’t fully vented last night’s anger. Gan Xun’s words had been outrageously presumptuous.

Considering Gan Xun’s good attitude that morning, she didn’t pursue it relentlessly, but she wasn’t letting it go lightly either; she was far from that tolerant.

In the past, the entire household had pampered and indulged her; her temper wasn’t small.

But on her first night here, she knew this place was not easy to inhabit.

If she wanted to protect herself and patiently wait for the day of return, she needed to scheme a bit, ensuring she wouldn’t be sent away before adapting.

Last night, Gan Xun had chattered endlessly about being fed up with her current life.

In the past, Zhao Chiyun would have listened calmly. Even if she sympathized, she never would have heeded such words.

People each had their own fate; harboring resentment was normal.

Couldn’t she endure her own current situation?

But after blending into modern society, her posture could no longer be arrogantly superior by default. She had to clearly recognize that her staying here placed a great deal of pressure on Gan Xun.

Unlike Cui Can and Lan Xiaoxi, who had family support, were rising in their careers, and had loads of friends and drinks.

Gan Xun could be said to have nothing—at least in Zhao Chiyun’s eyes.

Just like her present self.

Fortunately, they still had each other, relying on one another for companionship.

When she felt fortunate and joyful, what thoughts stirred in Gan Xun’s heart?

Gan Xun rarely complained. She enjoyed cooking, making beds, and cleaning—trifles that Zhao Chiyun looked down on. On walks, she joked and laughed, squatted in the grass to softly call stray cats.

She also reminded Zhao Chiyun not to touch them casually; they weren’t like house cats, and a scratch meant needing shots.

She said very sweet words to coax her, occasionally acting recklessly.

Zhao Chiyun decided to be self-reliant precisely because she saw that those who depended on others here struggled to find peace. She needed to plan for herself.

But she still occasionally forgot her circumstances.

When Gan Xun complimented her, spent money on her, and sought to please her, she never refused.

Gan Xun was beautiful, with an excellent temperament, and she had never been intimate with a woman before.

The budding affection swept in like a hurricane, unasked whether the person could bear it—intruding without permission, destroying, reshaping, then dumping the burden on them.

She had never been timid before. Here, her courage was even greater than in Mirror Country, and she didn’t conceal it for years before revealing it, because she was certain time was short.

Nor was Gan Xun’s claim of liking her outside expectations.

It seemed only natural that those who received her favor would favor her in return.

Last night, she reconsidered. Perhaps it wasn’t so.

Perhaps Gan Xun was simply kind, pure without any malicious thoughts.

Seeing her with nowhere to go, she took her in. Seeing her temper, she tolerated it, waiting for fate to whisk her away.

Gan Xun harbored many grievances and dissatisfactions.

When she said, “This isn’t Mirror Country,” Zhao Chiyun realized it.

Reflecting back, Gan Xun hadn’t harbored intentions toward her before. It was she who confessed first, and Gan Xun took several days to say she could accept a woman too.

Outwardly, Zhao Chiyun was skilled at pretense. She committed Gan Xun’s instructions to memory—it wasn’t difficult, far simpler than convoluted palace rules.

She didn’t want to invite trouble for herself.

But sometimes she forgot.

At last night’s banquet, Teacher Hu trailed Lan Xiaoxi like an attendant, unwilling to stray half a step. He casually told Zhao Chiyun to fetch an item from downstairs, his tone particularly rude.

Zhao Chiyun asked expressionlessly, “Me?”

Gan Xun went and fetched it for him instead.

Gan Xun neither blamed her for her sour face nor said anything, but Zhao Chiyun later thought it might have been a crack.

It was only reasonable for Gan Xun to gradually lose patience.

Wanting to rent a bigger place, one room each, to maintain some distance—it made sense.

Therefore, when Gan Xun said they could no longer just be friends, Zhao Chiyun wasn’t pleased. She didn’t grasp it right away.

She didn’t know what those words portended.

She watched Gan Xun quietly.

Gan Xun’s earlier frivolous, playful smile was gone. In her deep gray pupils lingered hesitation and turbulent waves.

Zhao Chiyun waited for her to continue.

Gan Xun stammered, “Don’t you think that getting caught kissing by others and claiming we’re just friends makes us seem irresponsible?”

Zhao Chiyun recalled that Gan Xun had denied it first last night. Afraid Gan Xun would be embarrassed, she had helped cover for her.

“Makes you seem irresponsible, right?”

She sat back down and wiped the ink accidentally smeared on her hand. “I don’t care about other people’s thoughts.”

The people here were mere fleeting acquaintances; one day they’d never cross paths again. It had nothing to do with her.

Gan Xun didn’t argue, slowly piecing her words together. “What I mean is, if you’re not too resistant, and you think I’m decent enough, and want to go a bit deeper…”

“We can give it a try.”

Many said that saying was harder than doing, but Gan Xun thought the opposite—especially confessing to someone you felt unworthy of and couldn’t keep.

“Try what?”

Zhao Chiyun asked.

Seeing her frown, her expression seemingly puzzled, Gan Xun’s heated nerves abruptly cooled. For an instant, she wondered whether to continue.

She felt she’d done something foolish—overreaching, with every sign of botching it.

But one shouldn’t abandon things halfway through. She’d already opened her mouth.

Most times, she wasn’t indecisive. It was just with Zhao Chiyun that many things she neither could nor should initiate, fearing she’d overstep.

She braced herself, flashed a smile, and tried to keep her tone light.

“We can try developing a relationship… But I’m not rushing or forcing it. It’s not like we have to get together right away. I’m just discussing it with you.”

Her voice grew quieter. She saw no gentle smile on Zhao Chiyun’s face—the kind that appeared when she was in a good mood—no affection in her eyes. Instead, Zhao Chiyun’s expression gradually stilled.

Gan Xun realized it was thoroughly over.

She had thought before not to reveal too many intentions to Zhao Chiyun. Even when venturing offenses and closeness within Zhao Chiyun’s tolerance, she held back from confessing, because her own advantages were too overwhelming.

Zhao Chiyun was adrift here without roots, could trust only her, depended on her for every aspect of life—even very smart, adaptable, and perceptive.

If she schemed in this area, Zhao Chiyun would weigh the pros and cons. Even if she agreed, it would merely be a transaction.

A basin of cold water doused Gan Xun. Wasn’t that exactly the case now?

Had she grown complacent? Was Zhao Chiyun’s interest in her truly calm and pure, free of other factors?

Zhao Chiyun saw how exhausted she looked, lightly patted the chair beside her, and invited her to sit—confirming her true intentions once more.

“You mean, since our friends saw us, you can’t just wash your hands of it, so you might as well roll with it?”

“Yeah, not exactly. I liked you first.”

Gan Xun was candid, wanting to say that she liked her too but holding back, still harboring hope. “Can we?”

Zhao Chiyun fell silent, deeming Gan Xun’s decision a patch-up job. Why today of all days? Far too hasty.

“I reflected this morning. Last night, I was too frivolous, forcing you to come out to your friends. Coming out—is that the term?”

Gan Xun gave a strained smile. “Yes, that’s the term, but…”

Zhao Chiyun cut her off. “You needn’t worry. I can explain—say you were drunk and I was just messing with you.”

“Or you can say I’m hard to pursue. No need to throw yourself into the fray.”

Where was the fun in that? Things were going perfectly with Gan Xun now; they were already trying things out. No need to put on a show for others.

“No need,” Gan Xun said.

She stood, eager to flee. “Don’t worry about that anymore. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Hearing this, Zhao Chiyun felt she saw through it and asked once more, “If it’s not important, do you still want to?”

A hint of smile colored her words—Gan Xun’s familiar style of questioning.

But Gan Xun’s courage had utterly vanished. She feared nodding would lead to total defeat like last night’s game, forcing her to drink again.

She had quit alcohol.

She tried to sound objective. “Mainly, we still don’t know how long you can stay here. Seems we can’t decide too much. Experiencing and enjoying things is what matters most—no need to be bound by a relationship or a particular person. We’re great as is. If you don’t want to think about it, I won’t either.”

Zhao Chiyun seemed to understand and nodded. “If others ask later, don’t say we’re just friends. Say whatever you like.”

Gan Xun smiled. “Sure.”

Zhao Chiyun concealed her feelings, unwilling to lose too much. “Can our time together stay the same?”

Gan Xun, thinking she was anxious, reassured her. “Of course. I don’t have to push for anything. Don’t worry.”

The two didn’t continue the talk. They casually opened the delivery app instead, deciding on lunch.

The atmosphere stayed relaxed, as if last night and today had never happened.

Gan Xun didn’t let herself show the side she hated most—sulking after a failed advance. How could Zhao Chiyun keep living with her then?

Now Zhao Chiyun had her ID card, a job, and other friends. If she acted poorly, she might not even qualify to stay by Zhao Chiyun’s side.

That night, Zhao Chiyun fetched water at midnight, waking Gan Xun.

Gan Xun sat up, worriedly asking if she’d had another nightmare or was missing home.

Zhao Chiyun hummed ambiguously twice. As Gan Xun soothed her, she thought it must be her own pressure making Zhao Chiyun feel this place wasn’t relaxed.

She felt sorry for her own rashness and greed.

At the appointed time, Gan Xun went to lunch with her former company’s boss at a nearby Chinese restaurant.

Chen Jing had been in the industry for a while. Though under thirty-five, she looked seasoned, didn’t chase youth trends, and kept her hair in a low ponytail at the nape—giving a steady impression.

She was one of the few normal leaders at the old company.

She chatted with Gan Xun about recent events and extended an olive branch.

No longer confined to petty infighting at a small firm, she had jumped ship and gotten promoted, offering Gan Xun impressive pay and benefits.

She had always trusted Gan Xun’s abilities and knew she’d been underutilized before. She wanted Gan Xun to come help her.

Gan Xun agreed readily.

A formal interview process would follow in due time; she could start in early August.

Before heading home, Gan Xun stopped at a flower shop and bought a bouquet, then picked up packages for herself and Zhao Chiyun at the community delivery station.

Zhao Chiyun had ordered a few books; Gan Xun had gotten a mini photo frame.

When she got home, Zhao Chiyun was still showering.

The living room lights blazed bright, water sounds came from the bathroom, and within sight, three windows in the opposite building still glowed.

Gan Xun pulled an unused vase from the cabinet—an impulse buy from some forgotten year and month. She amateurishly arranged the flowers in it.

She slipped the photo of her and Zhao Chiyun from that night into the frame and placed it beside the vase.

When Zhao Chiyun emerged, she wasn’t surprised, smiling as she said, “I heard the door open and close.”

Only then did she notice the predominantly pink bouquet, her eyes lighting up.

Gan Xun said proudly, “You complimented the pink roses at Lan Xiaoxi’s place that day. I passed by and saw them, so I bought some.”

Zhao Chiyun thanked her and picked up the photo they’d taken.

Gan Xun had placed it perfectly. The vibrant background made their blue outfits look refreshingly cool.

Gan Xun’s smile shone brightly as she draped an arm over her shoulder; the necklace inside her shirt gleamed.

“Gifts for me?” she asked.

“The flowers are. The photo’s the only one—kind of reluctant to give it away.”

Gan Xun teased her.

“Leave it on the table for us to share.”

Zhao Chiyun wouldn’t have it and said with plans in mind, “It’s mine now. Once I have my own room, it’ll go on my bedside table.”

Gan Xun’s smile stiffened briefly. She was the one who’d brought it up first, yet now it stung.

“Sure. I booked a realtor—we’re viewing places tomorrow.”

Zhao Chiyun nodded casually and bent to admire her roses.

Gan Xun hugged her from behind and softly asked, “Then, can I come to your room to see the photo?”