The answer to the question was beyond doubt, and precisely because of that, Gan Xun vaguely kissed her collarbone and mumbled, “Happy,” before sobering up.
She stopped.
She asked Zhao Chiyun why she asked that.
When Zhao Chiyun finished exempting her from formalities and looked at her loftily yet tenderly, she walked over, knelt at the edge of the bed, and slowly kissed her down onto the bedsheets.
This was also a form of kneeling courtesy.
She thought.
Then, as she kissed the side of her neck, Zhao Chiyun tried to dodge and reached out to push her away, so she pinned Zhao Chiyun’s hands above her head.
She continued kissing.
She didn’t even need to look to know that Zhao Chiyun’s expression carried some anger—after all, her actions were too presumptuous, too disrespectful toward the noble County Princess.
But she couldn’t care less.
Zhao Chiyun’s skin was very thin. Gan Xun had no doubt that if she kissed any harder, she could leave vivid hickeys.
The thought arose in her like vegetation bursting through soil on a rainy day, vibrant in the damp.
But she merely thought about it and didn’t want to cause Zhao Chiyun any distress. Throughout the kissing, she remained very restrained.
She only landed the kisses lightly, feeling Zhao Chiyun’s instinctive response—which wasn’t very compliant but was nonetheless pleasurable—like raindrops on the leaves of new sprouts.
If they weren’t at Cui Can’s house, she thought, if she had kept kissing like that, she wouldn’t have been able to resist taking off Zhao Chiyun’s skirt.
She was very lustful.
Fortunately, Zhao Chiyun spoke up in time, depriving her of the chance to indulge.
Now, Zhao Chiyun’s gaze rested on her quietly, leaving her a bit uneasy.
Although she knew things couldn’t possibly go too badly—Zhao Chiyun had just given her a gift and allowed her to kiss her like that.
But anything related to Zhao Chiyun was something she couldn’t take lightly. It was the most important thing in her current life.
Though not entirely fitting, in this sense, she now had the kind of lovestruck mind that she once scorned.
“Let go.”
Zhao Chiyun said.
Gan Xun tensed up and hurriedly released her insubordinate hands. She sat off to the side and quickly glanced over—her wrists were red.
She felt both ashamed and excited.
Zhao Chiyun slowly sat up. With her eyes downcast and her expression unreadable, she straightened her wrinkled clothes, then stared at her wrists and answered her.
“I just wanted to ask.”
“I also want to ask, do you like someone else now?”
Her gaze swept over sharply, as if it could see straight through Gan Xun’s heart with no room for evasion.
Gan Xun was bewildered and puzzled. She pursed her lips as her heart rate slowly calmed, and she began to think.
“Of course not.”
She figured Zhao Chiyun must have some concerns during their intimacy, so she assured her eagerly. “I swear, my heart won’t hold two people at the same time.”
In truth, she had never liked anyone as much as she liked Zhao Chiyun or invested more thought in them.
Although her past immature affections had cost her dearly in economic terms, she hadn’t put much mental or emotional energy into them.
Zhao Chiyun verified it and determined that Gan Xun’s words held no falsehood—and there wouldn’t be any.
“Who is worthy of comparing to this County Princess?”
She was arrogant like a phoenix perched on a small tree—her environment poor, but her splendor undiminished.
Zhao Chiyun deserved such confidence. Who could compare to her? There wouldn’t be anyone better.
Gan Xun lacked that kind of confidence.
It wasn’t self-deprecation but an objective, calm analysis. Without some freak accident, Zhao Chiyun would never have any intersection with her life.
She would simply stay in the Mirror Country, devoting herself to admiring her white moonlight—or at worst, there was a well-matched Little General waiting to marry her.
It didn’t matter anyway. She and those people existed in different timelines.
Different spaces entirely—no need to compete.
As long as Zhao Chiyun couldn’t go back, it would give her the chance to devote herself endlessly.
Even if she did go back, who she liked or didn’t like would have nothing to do with Gan Xun. There was no need to dwell on it.
“Right, no one is worthy.”
“Rub them.”
Zhao Chiyun extended both wrists, a hint of grievance and reproach in her tone.
Gan Xun’s face flushed and her heart pounded. “Sorry, I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Why like this?” Zhao Chiyun asked.
She didn’t know. She just thought kissing like this felt really good.
Gan Xun lowered her head and lightly kissed her wrists.
Once the data transfer finished, Gan Xun fiddled with the new phone for a bit until her hair was fully dry.
She opened the door to head to the bathroom and ran into Cui Can, who had just turned off the lights and was coming from the living room.
With her friend standing right in front of her, Gan Xun held the new phone to her ear. “Hello.”
Cui Can: “…”
She rarely found herself speechless.
Gan Xun operated the phone unhurriedly, turned on the flashlight, and smiled reservedly. “Lights are off? Sorry, I’m night blind.”
Under the glaring light, her pretty and clever friend looked like a complete fool.
“Feels pretty good, huh.”
“Not yet. Vital signs are stable.”
Cui Can laughed, but then remembered her own leaky mouth and asked a bit worriedly, “What was all that noise just now?”
While handling work in the living room, she had heard Zhao Chiyun loudly shouting Gan Xun’s name.
The usually poised Zhao Chiyun had even cracked her voice, which showed how angry she must have been.
Gan Xun thought back to their intimate exchange in the room and felt extremely embarrassed in front of her friend.
But she didn’t show it and stayed composed. “Nothing. We were just messing around.”
Cui Can relaxed and ordered her to turn off the flashlight.
As they passed each other, Gan Xun called out to her and said seriously, “Thanks.”
Cui Can tacitly didn’t ask what for. She smiled lightly and tossed her hair. “Really, pulling this on me.”
The next day, Gan Xun and Zhao Chiyun went back, preparing for the official move.
Cui Can and Tang Sifeng wouldn’t arrive until the afternoon due to work.
Zhao Chiyun didn’t have much stuff—one cardboard box was enough—and Gan Xun had already packed it for her.
She sat properly on the sofa sipping tea, reading a book while supervising.
Gan Xun bustled about busily. Even with the AC on, her clothes were soaked with sweat over half her body.
When Zhao Chiyun finished her tea, she beckoned Gan Xun over and rewarded her with a sip.
Gan Xun casually wiped the sweat from her forehead, gulped it down in one go, and panted that it was almost packed.
In Zhao Chiyun’s past impressions, girls were either demure and graceful or heroic and dashing—they were always proper and clean.
She had rarely seen a woman drenched in sweat with disheveled hair. Everyone was always prim and proper in front of her.
But Gan Xun wasn’t improper or unclean. The faint flush on her face from the exertion reminded Zhao Chiyun of cherries and lychees.
She examined her carefully several times.
And because of Gan Xun’s pitiable appearance, she approachable helped sort some of the still-unpacked items. She spotted a pile of gift boxes sitting outside the cabinet.
When Gan Xun saw her squat down, she said there was no need to sort them—most were useless. She’d open them later to check, and anything unimportant would be tossed.
Zhao Chiyun opened them one by one: lots of random small knickknacks of unknown origin, some pretty and exquisite gifts, and things like expired face masks and health supplements.
Gan Xun had no patience for meticulous skincare. She had only seen face masks at Cui Can’s house and had used a couple over these past days. Though she couldn’t tell if they worked, she liked them anyway.
“What a waste.”
The exploiter commented on the proletariat like that.
Tucked inside a skincare gift box containing two boxes of face masks was a letter, nearly overlooked by even sharp-eyed Zhao Chiyun due to the clashing colors.
A rose-red envelope and paper with pretty handwriting.
“To Gan Xun,” followed by a little red heart.
Gan Xun squatted down to peer over and went blank when she saw the letter. “Where’d this come from?”
“Bottom of the gift box.”
It was hard to match them to specific senders anymore. She didn’t always throw away or refuse gifts from others; she accepted them for all sorts of legitimate reasons.
But Gan Xun truly had no idea there was a love letter. That was an old-school move from her student days.
“Can I read it?”
Zhao Chiyun asked, pinching one corner of the envelope. Her freshly manicured nails had a healthy pink hue and little half-moons.
Gan Xun wanted to say “better not” and just toss it.
But she didn’t want to keep anything from Zhao Chiyun. Seeing her poised to pounce, she said guiltlessly that she could.
She added a disclaimer first: she hadn’t seen it before, so if there was anything explicit, it had nothing to do with her.
Zhao Chiyun carefully untied the ribbon on the envelope, nudged it open a bit before fully unfolding it—making Gan Xun briefly suspect if someone from their side had put poison powder inside or something.
The contents were clean: just a single folded sheet of paper.
Zhao Chiyun drew it out with two slender fingers and opened it.
Gan Xun suddenly felt tense, like someone was reading her diary—even though the letter had nothing to do with her.
Zhao Chiyun cleared her throat and read solemnly in a dignified tone: “Dearest Gan Xun…”
Gan Xun was still waiting for the rest when Zhao Chiyun flew into a small rage. “Who is this person? Calling you ‘dear’ and such—how far along are you two?”
Gan Xun looked utterly wronged. “No, no, don’t misunderstand. That’s just polite written language, same as when Cui Can tells me ‘you’ve lost weight.'”
“Cui Can’s called me ‘dear’ too. You remember the hair salon owner? And it’s in movies all the time—the ones we’ve watched.”
Zhao Chiyun thought about it and recalled that was true. She magnanimously let it go.
“I didn’t expect to meet you this year. The three nights we lived together…”
Zhao Chiyun paused. “Three nights?”
“Who is it!” Gan Xun was baffled. She took the paper, glanced at the signature, and finally vaguely remembered.
“Don’t misunderstand. It was a standard hotel room—colleagues share like that on business trips.”
“We were there for training, which is part of work. It was in another city, arranged by the company.”
The girl was a colleague from her company before last. They’d had brief interactions during that time.
Since they were in branches far apart, they hadn’t seen each other after the training and only chatted sporadically afterward.
Until the other girl learned Gan Xun was quitting and sent a gift straight to the company, leaving no room for refusal.
It was a full skincare set, plus some picture books and phone cases that girls might like.
Gan Xun had only used the lotion, essence, and such. The rest sat around because they didn’t match her tastes.
She hadn’t bothered with the face masks since she didn’t usually use them anyway and figured they did nothing.
Later, Gan Xun had sent something back in return, settling the favor, and their contact fizzled out soon after.
She hadn’t known about this letter.
She vaguely remembered the girl asking what she thought after reading it.
Gan Xun had thanked her but said it was too extravagant.
The girl had asked if they could meet again, and Gan Xun had politely declined.
Gan Xun had dodged the date invitation without ever seeing the letter.
Zhao Chiyun called her a blockhead, saying that even if it failed, a letter made things less awkward for both sides—girls always needed to leave themselves an out.
Gan Xun agreed profusely.
Zhao Chiyun put the letter back in the envelope. “Do you two still have contact info?”
“Probably. I didn’t delete it.”
As Gan Xun spoke, she tapped into the contact list. The chat history had been cleared—she hadn’t saved anything anyway—but she spotted an issue. “Looks like I got blocked.”
Zhao Chiyun burst out laughing, delighted. “Serves you right for wasting someone’s heart. So heartless.”
Gan Xun quietly put the love letter into the box for things to discard and defended herself. “I didn’t think of it that way back then, so I didn’t notice. I never waste anyone’s heart.”
“It was just a colleague I spent a few days with, and we didn’t chat much, so I didn’t notice if she liked me or blocked me.”
Seeing her lost in thought, Zhao Chiyun asked, “Why the serious explanation?”
“It’s to say that for someone I like who also likes me, I’ll treat them with care and cherish them for life.”
“I’ll treasure every item related to them.”
She didn’t want Zhao Chiyun to misunderstand her because of this.
Zhao Chiyun smiled and hooked her finger under Gan Xun’s chin, her gaze flowing. “So you’re pouring out your heart to me.”
