After deciding, Gan Xun didn’t waste a moment.
She didn’t have much free time left. She still had interviews, physical exams, and paperwork to handle afterward, so the next day, she went with the agent to look at apartments.
Mirror City had been drizzling continuously for the past few days, much like certain emotions Gan Xun kept deeply buried. But she didn’t dwell on it anymore.
Fortunately, the rain never picked up after she headed out. The roads were normal, so she didn’t open her umbrella. She just walked a bit faster.
She set her search range between her soon-to-be workplace and Cuilan Academy, fixed a budget, and spent the whole day running around with Sister Wu. She liked two apartments with similar prices.
One had fresher renovations—a two-bedroom, one-living-room setup.
The other was a small three-bedroom, larger in area but a bit more worn.
Both were not far from the subway station and had elevators, though neither was on a high floor.
Gan Xun couldn’t decide. She told Sister Wu she would bring her roommate along the next day to choose.
Zhao Chiyun didn’t suffer from decision paralysis. She knew exactly what she wanted and wouldn’t waver like Gan Xun, wanting everything at once.
On the way back, she suddenly remembered something she had overlooked.
Zhao Chiyun’s “refresh point” had been in her room. Could Zhao Chiyun return? Was it linked to the current apartment?
What if moving meant Zhao Chiyun couldn’t smoothly return to Mirror Country?
She had been too careless. The idea of changing apartments was only to make Zhao Chiyun more comfortable, so they wouldn’t have to squeeze together.
She hadn’t thought of anything else.
She climbed the stairs faster than usual, taking them two at a time, and rushed home.
She was out of breath.
It felt like if she ran even a little slower, she might hold back this important information and do something against Zhao Chiyun’s wishes.
Turning into a selfish villain.
Zhao Chiyun had a cup of tea nearby and was flipping through a new book she had personally picked online.
She had placed the flowers on the coffee table. Today, they had bloomed a bit more and looked better than last night.
She played light ancient zither music on Gan Xun’s long-idle little speaker. The elegant, serene ambiance was shattered by Gan Xun’s hurried return, so she turned off the music.
Gan Xun sat beside her and eagerly shared what she had just realized.
She was afraid of being scolded. “I really hadn’t thought of this before. Sorry.”
Zhao Chiyun pondered for a moment, then reached out and patted Gan Xun’s head.
“Didn’t you bring an umbrella? Why is your hair still wet?”
Gan Xun grabbed a tissue to wipe her face. “I didn’t use it. Too much hassle. It’s just a light rain—no big deal. I’ll shower later.”
Only then did Zhao Chiyun ask, “Why didn’t you think of it earlier?”
She huffed, “Could it be you’re so eager to live apart from me?”
Gan Xun could tell she was deliberately throwing a tantrum. There had been plenty of good reasons to discuss the move with her.
She shook her head and smiled. “Didn’t you forget about it too?”
Zhao Chiyun fell silent.
She began negotiating with her. “Is the location really that important?”
Gan Xun wasn’t superstitious, but when it came to Zhao Chiyun, it was hard not to be:
“Maybe. Who knows? That lake you fell into might have been right here in this neighborhood once.”
“A space-time tunnel here—you know?”
She knew. Sci-fi movies. Zhao Chiyun had watched two with her, lost in the clouds, even more fantastical than myths, shattering all her imaginings of sun, moon, and stars.
Zhao Chiyun glanced leisurely at the ceiling. From Gan Xun’s view, it looked like she rolled her eyes—inexplicably cute.
Bewildered by her smile, Zhao Chiyun glared at her.
“If we go by your logic, I couldn’t leave home. I’d have to stay in the room from dawn to dusk.”
“I’ve explored plenty this past month. Your home has no mysteries.”
“Besides…”
Her words cut off abruptly. Suddenly, she didn’t want to analyze anymore. “Then we won’t move.”
She watched Gan Xun’s expression.
“Not moving is fine. Do you really think I’m moving just to live apart from you?”
Gan Xun laughed. “Then we’ll keep squeezing in this little place. Even if it’s worse than the new ones I saw, even if it’s twice as far from work, even if…”
A thunderous argument erupted from next door.
Zhao Chiyun perked up her ears. “What’s it about today?”
Gan Xun said, “Shh, I’m listening.”
After a bit, she figured it out. The man had been caught by his wife chatting up someone online.
Gan Xun was speechless.
After Gan Xun translated, Zhao Chiyun didn’t hide her disdain. “Shameless cur.”
“Men never change throughout the ages.”
Gan Xun threw in a couple jabs and reminded her, “You didn’t finish what you were saying.”
“You didn’t finish.”
“My words aren’t important. Tell me—what comes after ‘besides’? Chiyun, don’t be stubborn. We’re discussing this.”
Gan Xun took on a pleading tone.
Startled at being called, Zhao Chiyun suddenly felt she couldn’t handle Gan Xun like this.
Her tone softened a bit. “Besides, your hypothesis doesn’t hold. Since your history has no Mirror Country, the vicissitudes of life make before and after irrelevant. Why worry if this place was once lake or land?”
True, that made sense. Gan Xun hesitated.
“But what if?”
She didn’t dare bet on it.
Zhao Chiyun didn’t want to dwell either. She waved her hand decisively. “Are there still temples or Taoist shrines? If so, find a reliable master to ask. Let it be up to fate.”
Gan Xun wanted to say this was the modern era—no one really understood or believed in fate like that. But seeing Zhao Chiyun herself, she couldn’t even convince herself.
So she asked Cui Can for help. Cui Can’s mom was into that stuff. Every time they picked a site for Cui Lan Book Garden, they consulted a master for feng shui.
But that night, something happened that made Gan Xun and Zhao Chiyun decide to move.
After an evening stroll downstairs, they saw a man squatting at the building entrance.
Skinny and scrawny, shorter than Gan Xun, wearing a disheveled tank top and slippers, heavy dark circles under his eyes—he looked utterly drained.
He thought he was being polite, but said impolite things. He’d been noticing them for a while and wanted to get to know them.
His eyes stayed glued to Zhao Chiyun the whole time.
He said he lived nearby too, so they could go walking together sometime.
He also mentioned he had two cats—super cute. If they liked cats, they could come over.
Zhao Chiyun sensed the problem and asked coldly, “How do you know we like cats?”
“I said I live nearby, so I often see you two looking after strays.”
Gan Xun wanted to shake him off. “We don’t. You got it wrong. Move.”
He blocked her, getting anxious. “I couldn’t be wrong. You live on the third floor, right?”
A chill ran up Gan Xun’s back, but she suppressed it and asked expressionlessly, “Should I call the police to make you leave?”
“Why call the police? Making friends is normal, right? Don’t be mad. I just introduced myself. Nice to meet you—talk next time.”
He smiled and pretended to leave, then turned back as if remembering something, stepping closer. He moved too fast and nearly bumped into Zhao Chiyun.
The County Princess’s patience ran out. She slapped him backhanded and growled, “You’re courting death.”
The man looked incredulous, his face twisting for an instant. But then some residents arrived and noticed them.
An older auntie started questioning him for them. “Why aren’t you leaving? What’s with the tugging and pulling?”
The man fled in panic.
The auntie comforted them. “Don’t be scared. I know him—know exactly where he lives. If he causes trouble, I’ll be the first to call the cops on him. You young girls are thin-skinned; must’ve been frightened.”
Gan Xun thanked her. Back home, she double-locked the doors and windows.
She peeked through the curtain gap and vented to Zhao Chiyun. “That guy’s a creep, right? Did he ever talk to you before?”
“No, but I remember his face. We brushed past a few times—I thought it was coincidence.”
“Looks like he’s been stalking for a while.”
Gan Xun calmed down, then worried Zhao Chiyun might be scared. She smiled. “Don’t worry. He’s not that bold—you saw he barely said anything today. It’s a society governed by law; the neighbors saw him. He’ll behave.”
“We won’t go out alone anymore.”
Zhao Chiyun didn’t comment. “Gan Xun, when you lived here alone before, did you ever run into this?”
Gan Xun shook her head. “I was always out early and back late, rarely went out on weekends, so nothing like this.”
“Lots of elderly and kids here. It’s noisy, but lively. Security’s better than I thought.”
Ever since living with Zhao Chiyun, they went out every day.
The chances of being spotted skyrocketed.
In the end, they still felt uneasy and decided to move as soon as possible.
That man knew their floor—probably followed them.
And Zhao Chiyun had struck him today. The grudge was set; no fixing it. More trouble likely ahead.
After lying down, Zhao Chiyun turned toward Gan Xun in the dark and asked softly, “Should I not have hit him today?”
Gan Xun took the hand Zhao Chiyun had placed between their pillows and smiled. “You should have. I was worried it’d dirty your hand.”
“Does it hurt? Let me blow on it.”
She kissed Zhao Chiyun’s palm, drawing a laugh and a scolding. “Stop fooling around.”
“But did I mess things up?”
“We could’ve stayed without moving.”
Gan Xun noticed Zhao Chiyun thought more deeply now.
By old County Princess Zhao’s standards, hitting a guy like that was going easy—death penalty would be just right.
But now she questioned it. Maybe good, maybe not.
“It was bound to happen. It just reached us today. Even if you hadn’t hit him, after hearing that, I’d still want to move.”
Gan Xun gently wrapped an arm around her to comfort. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“But from a safety standpoint, I don’t recommend hitting people like that again. What if I’m not around, or no bystanders? Provoking him could be dangerous. No mansion guards here for you.”
She joked, “No assassins in our world, but everyone’s got a temper. Not many take beatings like I do.”
“It’s precisely because you’re here.”
“When have I ever hit you? Don’t play innocent like I’ve mistreated you.”
The first sentence was tender and lingering.
The second bristled with mock anger and counterattack.
Zhao Chiyun switched emotions seamlessly, a thousand faces.
It was exactly these that Gan Xun loved—she could never fully read Zhao Chiyun’s mind.
But it didn’t hurt.
Like an amateur buying high-risk investments, never sure if tomorrow brings gains or losses, sell now or hold.
But couldn’t quit.
Gan Xun laughed softly in the dark, like a breeze rustling leaves.
Zhao Chiyun’s heart stirred. She didn’t want to listen anymore and covered her mouth, pausing a second before pulling away.
Thinking the world would be quiet from then on—unexpectedly, Gan Xun came after her and sealed her lips.
This time, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she gently pried them open, delving in, kissing deep and urgent.
Zhao Chiyun, trapped in her embrace, couldn’t escape. She hugged back, feeling her real presence and restless desires.
At last, Zhao Chiyun relaxed. Gan Xun was exactly as she said—unchanged.
Remembering her bold words from before, wanting to do bad things.
Zhao Chiyun barely broke away, breathless. “Those reckless words you said last time—still want to?”
