Chapter 55: Taking the Measure

All was silent, but the cicadas outside chirped even more noisily, disturbing the moon shadows that flickered in and out. Even with the doors and windows tightly shut, the source of the noise couldn’t be extinguished.

There were still too few cicada catchers.

At some moment, Gan Xun thought absentmindedly.

After becoming roommates with Zhao Chiyun, Gan Xun’s favorite moments were returning to the room and the time spent together before turning off the lights.

Kissing wasn’t an every-night activity. Anything beyond pure roommate friendship—she remained cautious, oh so cautious.

Most of the time, they each did their own things.

Zhao Chiyun was in the habit of reading books or listening to lectures. Sometimes Gan Xun kept her company, pretending to appreciate them for a while. Other times, she scrolled through her phone, checking job listings.

One night, while hugging her laptop to revise her resume, Zhao Chiyun leaned over with great interest. Spotting her ID photo, she said, “When were you ever this prim and proper?”

“I’m very serious when I’m out,” Gan Xun emphasized.

Zhao Chiyun didn’t call her bluff. Instead, she read out Gan Xun’s personal information and work history in an ancient tone, as if proclaiming an imperial decree.

She summed up over twenty years of Gan Xun’s life in just a few words.

Her verdict: “A young and promising talent with rich experience—that’s your identity for roaming the jianghu.”

There was no need to humbly deny it, but Gan Xun suspected she hadn’t really understood and was just saying nice things. So she kissed her.

She told her, “Also, both parents deceased.”

This dark joke made Zhao Chiyun frown at first, then let out a light chuckle before kissing her back.

Huddled under the covers, after the kissing reached that point, Zhao Chiyun kept trying to pull away. She pushed at Gan Xun’s shoulder, attempting to regain control of her breathing.

Gan Xun guessed she didn’t want to kiss anymore, but that night, she was especially reluctant to stop.

Until Zhao Chiyun asked her once more if she wanted to.

All of Gan Xun’s later reflections came in hindsight—like, if she was willing, then why not take their relationship further?

Or was it that she really wanted to try, or merely because she was bound to Gan Xun, needing to escape the stalker together, move, and get on with life?

But in that moment, Gan Xun didn’t act all flustered, afraid a poor reaction would make the opportunity vanish.

Without a second thought, she said, “I want to.”

Zhao Chiyun fell silent—so silent that Gan Xun grew a little worried.

She wanted to explain that wanting something didn’t mean she had to act on it. She wanted to win the lottery jackpot too, but she’d never even bought a ticket.

Her luck had never been that good.

In the night, the moonlight, and the cool air from the AC, Zhao Chiyun’s voice carried a clear chill and tenderness like lake water.

She said, “Okay. Let’s try.”

The hand pressed to Gan Xun’s shoulder slowly withdrew.

Feeling that pressure slowly fade from her shoulder, Gan Xun felt lost instead.

The “doing bad things” idea she’d voiced before should have come straight from the heart—an impulse too strong to resist, leading straight to action.

There shouldn’t have been any questioning and answering, no getting ready first and calling “set” before starting.

It wasn’t some sports match.

How was anyone supposed to handle this?

Gan Xun thought pretentiously.

In reality, she wasn’t as reserved as all that in her head. The moment Zhao Chiyun said to try, she really slipped her hand between them.

She waited but got no rebuke from Zhao Chiyun. Once she confirmed it was safe, she gently placed her hand on Zhao Chiyun’s shoulder, right by her neck.

Her palm burned hotter; it had already been restless during their kiss. Zhao Chiyun got lightly scalded and let out a heavy breath.

Gan Xun’s thoughts were a mess, but her hand moved steadily downward—from the side of her neck to her collarbone, then to the neckline of her nightgown. It paused at the edge of the curve.

Guilt stirred in her heart. Even as she reflected on it, she couldn’t resist the temptation. Reason told her what she ought to do, but she hadn’t listened to reason in ages.

As long as she finished, any outcome would be fine.

The night cicadas finally tired out and stopped all at once.

Tracing upward along the rounded curve, Zhao Chiyun’s breathing shifted with it. When Gan Xun reached the central area—probably fearing things would go too far—Zhao Chiyun instinctively covered the hand with her own, holding it in place.

She didn’t use much strength, but she managed to press Gan Xun’s hand down just a bit more, intensifying the sensation.

Gan Xun’s already taut nerves snapped tight. She didn’t dare move again, but soon enough, she felt a faint, firm response amid the softness in her palm.

The interrupted cicada chorus reconnected with the server and resumed its broadcast.

Gan Xun’s heartbeat matched the cicadas, leaping back and forth between frantic bursts and sudden halts.

She truly had no experience with this—only glimpsed similar scenes in those art films that required hunting down special resources.

But she swore, the satisfaction from watching paled against even one-ten-thousandth of the real thing.

Even without undressing, even invisible in the dark.

For a long time now, she’d wanted to do this. During kisses, or when Zhao Chiyun was in her arms, she’d feel an urge to touch.

That night of her confession, when Zhao Chiyun had asked what she’d want if permitted, Gan Xun had carefully admitted this one.

She wouldn’t hide it—what was so strange? Who wouldn’t like it?

If Zhao Chiyun took an interest in her chest, Gan Xun could offer it up selflessly—well, selfishly, actually.

Zhao Chiyun finally sensed it too. The hand covering Gan Xun’s loosened weakly.

Unable to resist, Gan Xun cupped her palm, enfolding more of that soft fullness between her fingers. In that instant, Zhao Chiyun’s sound flustered her even as it egged her on.

Her last thread of reason snapped. Forgetting everything else, she kissed her again while her hand kept measuring and teasing.

Fine, fragmented sounds leaked from the mouth she held captive—at first bewildered, then overwhelmed. Lips and body alike seemed desperate to escape Gan Xun.

Her waist tensed, then went soft, over and over, until she had no strength left at all, lost in the kissing and caressing.

When Gan Xun’s greed started to ramp up, she had to pause. She heard Zhao Chiyun’s voice, accusatory yet coquettish.

“Gan Xun, you’re bullying me.”

Gan Xun offered an insincere “Sorry,” then couldn’t help asking, “Can I kiss it?”

Her thumb swept over the erect peak as she spoke.

Zhao Chiyun responded with an enticing gasp and a “You’re so lewd,” before rolling over and ignoring her.

Gan Xun tried to calm her racing heart and heavy breaths quickly, but it didn’t work well. In the darkness, she cradled her feverish, no-doubt flushed face and stared at the ceiling.

If Zhao Chiyun wouldn’t tease her for it, she’d go change her underwear too.

So exhilarating.

The next day, Gan Xun took Zhao Chiyun to look at apartments as planned, letting her decide where they’d move.

In the taxi on the way, Zhao Chiyun hugged the window, sitting as far from her as possible. Her eyes stayed fixed outside.

Gan Xun knew she didn’t want to acknowledge her. She’d barely spoken at breakfast, and that morning’s eye contact had made her blush first before shooting Gan Xun a glare.

She was the one who’d brought it up, but her inexperience and underestimation of Gan Xun’s “wickedness” had left her shy and irritated even now—maybe regretting it to death.

Gan Xun understood. But she didn’t regret a thing. If the chance came again, she’d seize it.

She sent Zhao Chiyun a WeChat message: [This humble commoner begs forgiveness from the County Princess, pleading for mercy.]

Zhao Chiyun, leaning against the window, felt the vibration. She unlocked her phone for a glance, let out a cold huff, and replied: [Cleaver]

Old-school emoji-style texting.

Gan Xun went full modern with a string of cute stickers.

Zhao Chiyun pocketed her phone and ignored it.

But the vibrations kept coming. Unable to take it, she stretched out her slender arm and—smack!—slapped Gan Xun’s bare thigh, exposed by her shorts.

Gan Xun yelped in surprise.

The driver glanced in the rearview but didn’t dare say a word.

A bright red handprint blazed on Gan Xun’s thigh.

Gan Xun limped all the way out of the cab, looking pained and pitiful. “Feeling better now? Can you talk to me?”

“Not yet.”

Gan Xun dutifully offered her other leg. “Then hit this side too—for balance.”

“You’re insane.”

Zhao Chiyun scolded, but at least she started talking properly again.

Sister Wu lit up the moment she saw Zhao Chiyun, praising her endlessly.

“Oh wow, young girls really have it good—one prettier than the next. Even bare-faced, you’re more stunning than most dolled up. I’m so jealous!”

Gan Xun smiled. “Sister Wu, you’re in your prime, and your figure’s so well-kept. Plenty of people must envy you.”

“Don’t tease an old lady. Back when I was young, sure—I soaked up the compliments, and the suitors lined up. But now? I know my place.”

“Young? I figured Sister Wu was just three or five years older than us, still in full bloom.”

Zhao Chiyun feigned wide-eyed surprise with perfect sincerity.

With her demure, proper-lady looks, her words carried real weight. Sister Wu was over the moon, practically floating as she walked—nearly hit the wrong floor button in the elevator.

Zhao Chiyun still dreaded elevators. Once inside, she clung to Gan Xun.

While Sister Wu sent a voice message to someone else, Gan Xun leaned down and shot her a teasing look—as if to say, You, with your big honest ancient eyes, laying on the flattery that thick?

Zhao Chiyun leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Learned it from you—social niceties. Satisfied, teacher?”

Her words brushed Gan Xun’s ear, numbing half her body. Being called “teacher” yanked her right back to last night. She kissed Zhao Chiyun’s ear in retaliation.

She had no idea what expression to make. Her mind replayed it all, and impatience crept in—she suddenly wanted nothing more than to go home.

Just the two of them, together always.

After seeing both apartments, Zhao Chiyun picked the two-bedroom. It wasn’t just the renovations or the higher safety in the complex.

That unit overlooked an artificial lake. It wasn’t a direct view—just a glimpse of one corner from the bedroom—but it reminded her of her quarters in the Prince’s Mansion.

Gan Xun agreed on the spot.

She did the math: after signing the lease, her pockets would be empty. She’d have maybe one month’s living expenses left.

But it was worth it. Gan Xun liked the new place too, with its bright window views and spotless elevator.

Both bedrooms faced south. She planned to give Zhao Chiyun the larger master and add a desk inside for calligraphy practice and reading.

On the ride back, Zhao Chiyun asked specifically about the rent. Comparing it, it was nearly double what they paid now.

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

Gan Xun exaggerated, “Heart-wrenching.”

Once Zhao Chiyun laughed, Gan Xun joined in. “Spending that’s worthwhile never hurts.”

She’d never truly minded spending on Zhao Chiyun.

It was all regrets—pity she’d wasted two years slacking before.

Job hunting had been rough then, she’d fallen out with Gan Hua, things were tense with her aunt, and her crush had given her a harsh first lesson in society. No energy left for anything.

She’d just hunkered down at a small company to recover, but even that tossed her around plenty.

Good thing it was all behind her.

Now she had Zhao Chiyun. Lowering her voice, she promised, “I’ll give you a better life.”

As long as she stayed by Gan Xun’s side—a little more time was all she needed.

“Loyalty commendable,” Zhao Chiyun replied in flowery style.

Watching her sit so poised and noble in the taxi stirred Gan Xun. She sent a message: [Can I pick my reward?]