Chapter 64: Play

Zhao Chiyun thought that the experience of watching a movie in a cinema was quite interesting.

Even with the crowds and noise, dim lighting, and chairs that occasionally acted up, Gan Xun cried one moment, laughed the next, and ran to the bathroom yet again.

There was still some of the charm of watching opera back in the old days.

She had only mentioned it offhand, but Gan Xun immediately showed a condemning, critical expression, as if she were some hedonistic playboy devoted to pleasure and lust.

The look she gave her suggested that she had already done something disgraceful to the family name.

Gan Xun even said, “No wonder you’re so good at deceiving people.”

Zhao Chiyun didn’t remember deceiving her. Even if there had been a few times, how could it be “so good,” and she had no idea what watching opera had to do with being good at deception.

These were all Gan Xun’s baseless ramblings. If she had to trace the reason, it was probably because Gan Xun was dissatisfied with her life of being clothed in fine silk and fed delicacies in the past.

She wouldn’t argue this point with a commoner. After all, who told her to be born as the little county princess of Prince Qi’s Mansion?

Fortunately, Gan Xun, who had accepted tuition fees, still maintained some teacherly demeanor. Seeing that she wanted to learn, she guided her through the ticket-buying process.

Zhao Chiyun followed the procedure strictly, step by step. So, not long after the movie ended, she bought tickets for a cartoon film the next morning at ten o’clock.

Two tickets, middle seats.

Zhao Chiyun had already been deeply corrupted by the social environment, and her thoughts of immortal techniques had long faded.

These technologies were astonishing, yet not difficult to grasp. As long as Gan Xun was willing to teach her, she could learn them all.

After leaving the cinema, they strolled along with the crowd in the heart of the street.

Gan Xun held her hand very tightly, as if afraid that a rush of people would separate them.

If it came to peace of mind, even without attendants surrounding her now, having Gan Xun by her side made her feel just as escorted.

A breeze rose, the light turned red, and at the zebra crossing, Gan Xun studied the navigation route on her phone.

Nine seconds left. Zhao Chiyun lowered her head slightly and looked at their clasped hands.

Gan Xun wore a ring on her finger that wasn’t particularly expensive—in fact, it was quite cheap—but Gan Xun had said it was forbidden to describe others’ accessories so precisely.

None of that mattered.

What mattered was that the thin, narrow silver band made her hand look just like that of a pampered noble lady, or even more beautiful.

Zhao Chiyun wanted to snap a photo of their clasped hands, but as soon as she unlocked her phone, Gan Xun said, “Let’s go.”

Zhao Chiyun put her phone away.

On the way to their destination, they passed a bookstore with a jumbled assortment.

Magazines of all kinds were displayed at the entrance, but Gan Xun glanced at them and walked on.

Zhao Chiyun remembered that Gan Xun’s home had many fashion magazines. When she had first arrived here, Gan Xun had given her some to pass the time.

She had once thought Gan Xun liked them, but she never saw her read or buy any. When they moved, Gan Xun had thrown those magazines in the trash with the other junk.

Zhao Chiyun browsed carefully and finally settled on a simplified edition of an overseas novel and a deluxe art book featuring works by world-famous painters, with a cover in Gan Xun’s favorite blue.

The art book’s price was several times that of the novel. Zhao Chiyun glimpsed Gan Xun flipping to the price and widening her eyes, her mouth twitching slightly.

It was exactly the same expression as when Zhao Chiyun had once bumped her elbow on the table corner and Gan Xun looked over.

But Gan Xun didn’t say not to buy it. Instead, she went to line up and pay.

The bookstore gave them a nice kraft paper bag to hold the book and art book.

Zhao Chiyun happily insisted on carrying it herself.

Their destination was a Western restaurant that Zhao Chiyun wanted to try.

After they sat down, Zhao Chiyun ordered familiarly. During her communication with the server, she even tossed in a few English words from the menu.

It gave Gan Xun the feeling that she couldn’t afford it, but fortunately, she had checked the average price beforehand.

As Zhao Chiyun held her knife and fork, elegantly cutting the food, Gan Xun suddenly felt like the outsider.

“Aren’t you hungry? Why keep staring at me?”

Zhao Chiyun was puzzled.

Gan Xun said, “You adapt so quickly, and you improve so fast.”

Zhao Chiyun lowered her gaze, composed her emotions, and smiled softly. “I’ve been here for nearly two months, and all I’ve learned is how to eat, dress, and a few foreign words.”

It had been almost two months.

Gan Xun felt nothing of it.

She had even said back then that she would send Zhao Chiyun away after three days.

Good thing she hadn’t.

Zhao Chiyun didn’t give Gan Xun time to zone out and asked about her recent work and life.

Previously, Gan Xun had only said she was very busy, without going into details.

She had gone to Gan Xun’s company once. According to Gan Xun, it wasn’t that big, but to Zhao Chiyun, who had been in the modern world for only a few days, being sandwiched between those towering, massive buildings felt oppressively stern and cold.

Those colleagues were strange too, their gazes carrying scrutiny and dissatisfaction when they looked at her.

Zhao Chiyun didn’t know what they were dissatisfied about. Later, she guessed it was because an outsider had intruded and disrupted their work.

Gan Xun said the new company was much larger than the previous one.

Zhao Chiyun knew this. She had heard the group’s name from Cui Can, and it seemed to have quite a reputation.

“How are your colleagues?”

“Neither good nor bad. They’re all fairly normal people, from what I can see so far.”

Gan Xun chose her words carefully.

Zhao Chiyun thought of the love letter incident and casually asked, “Is anyone pursuing you?”

Gan Xun took a sip of soup. “No. Everyone’s busy looking grimy and exhausted every day. Who has the mind for romance? Even if a heavenly beauty came to work, they’d stay aloof and loveless.”

“It’s not like you constantly receive signals of affection at the Book Garden either.”

Zhao Chiyun was puzzled. “Why not? I thought receiving confessions was commonplace here.”

Gan Xun blinked dryly and watched her gracefully put an asparagus spear into her mouth, wondering what had happened in the days she hadn’t accompanied her to work.

She asked vigilantly, “A lot lately? Has anyone harassed you?”

Zhao Chiyun wasn’t in a hurry to answer. “You’re only thinking of caring about me now.”

Gan Xun immediately said, “I’ve always cared about you.”

“Really?”

Zhao Chiyun was still dissatisfied with the state before last night. “These past few days, I’ve been living like a loner, forgetting I even had a roommate.”

Gan Xun looked apologetic and pointed to the bag of books nearby and the table full of delicacies. She said to her, “I’m making up for it now.”

For the sake of the books, Zhao Chiyun magnanimously said, “Alright, I was just joking.”

Gan Xun’s neglect had made her feel dejected, but Zhao Chiyun didn’t mind these few days of independent living. The freedom of modern life lay in how few people’s gazes fell on you.

If she wore a mask or sunglasses, whether shopping at the mall or walking down the street, as long as she didn’t want to talk, no one would bother her.

In the Great Mirror, communication and transportation were inconvenient, and life’s efficiency was low.

But in the capital, even a minor incident could spread easily, turning into gossip or leverage.

Social circles were so small, and there weren’t many events, so some young lord’s stupidity from last year was still being gossiped about this year. One misstep led to social death.

Modern life was the complete opposite. Technology was extremely advanced; one could see loved ones anytime and travel thousands of miles in a day.

Hundreds and thousands of new things filled each day, and even in her classes, the students’ idle chatter changed every day.

Most of it Zhao Chiyun didn’t understand, so she pretended not to care. When asked, she just looked calmly, and someone else would answer for her.

Even so, people here weren’t good at focusing all their attention or memory on others.

This made them more self-centered and more forgetful.

There were no indispensable ambitions, no mistakes that ruined a lifetime—everything could be treated as child’s play.

Sometimes she wondered if Gan Xun was also part of the play.

Listening from the opening, it didn’t matter when the curtain fell.

“So, has anyone harassed you?”

“Was it a man or a woman?”

“You didn’t curse them out, right?”

“You didn’t add them on contacts either, did you?”

While she was lost in sentiment and praising the past, Gan Xun chattered endlessly about her feather-light little matters.

This was the typical modern affliction.

She even muttered, “Why didn’t Cui Can tell me?”

“Is she your spy?”

“Of course not. She promised to take good care of you.”

“I’m fine.”

On Sunday evening, Gan Xun invited Cui Can over for dinner. When pressing her for details, Cui Can casually opened the fridge to grab water.

“Ah, you want me to tell you about that? I thought you were mentally prepared since you left her out there.”

“Otherwise? Are other people blind? They see a beauty and don’t get moved?”

Gan Xun glanced toward the living room, where Zhao Chiyun was seriously discussing something with Tang Sifeng. She was dissatisfied with Cui Can’s response.

While preparing vegetables, she grumbled, “What kind of Book Garden is yours? Isn’t it a gathering place? How come it’s all romance every day?”

“If it’s full of romance, it wouldn’t be called a Book Garden anymore. I run a Book Garden, not a convent. What are you so nervous about? So lacking in confidence?”

Gan Xun wouldn’t admit it—none of those people could compare to her. Feeling stifled, she said, “I’m just worried. What if some shady person pesters her and I don’t know what to do?”

Cui Can pointed to her temple. “County Princess Zhao’s brain is sharper than both of ours. If someone harasses her, wouldn’t she know to tell you or me, or call the police?”

“If she doesn’t want to tell you, then there’s no need.”

Gan Xun fell silent but still looked unhappy.

Cui Can: “Tsk tsk tsk.”

After seeing off the guest, as Gan Xun tidied up, Zhao Chiyun came out after her shower, towel-drying her long hair. “My hair has grown again.”

Gan Xun glanced at it. “Get it trimmed in a couple of days.”

Zhao Chiyun stood in front of the mirror, suddenly reluctant. “I’ll keep it. I want to perm it. Their curly hair is so beautiful; I haven’t tried it yet.”

Gan Xun reminded her, “What will you do when you return to the Mirror Country?”

Zhao Chiyun fiddled with the dry towel, seriously pondering a solution. “I’ll shave it off when I go back and say I lost my memory these days and was living in a nunnery.”

This was the first time they chatted about Zhao Chiyun leaving, and Gan Xun showed no sadness.

Zhao Chiyun sounded just like a local now.

Gan Xun pulled over a sofa stool, had her sit in front of the mirror, and helped blow-dry and style her hair.

Zhao Chiyun had a slender neck, and her back was thin yet straight. Gan Xun blew her hair for as long as it took, and she maintained that elegant posture the whole time.

Most of the time, she looked straight into the mirror; occasionally, she lowered her eyes to think. She had no intention of looking at her phone, as if she didn’t find it boring at all.

Perhaps in her past life as a county princess, she was used to this slow pace, not needing to constantly receive and send information every moment.

Thus, she had a magic that calmed the heart.

After blowing her hair mostly dry, Gan Xun applied a bit of hair oil.

She spread it evenly, blew it with cool air a few times, then turned off the dryer and combed it with her fingers.

When she tried to tuck a strand behind her ear, she accidentally brushed her ear bone. Zhao Chiyun trembled involuntarily and let out a soft, half-suppressed breath.

She turned her head and looked up at Gan Xun.

Perhaps because she had just bathed, her eyes were moist and shimmering, evoking endless fantasies.

Gan Xun repeated the trick, flicking her earlobe again.

Zhao Chiyun couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. Realizing her ill intentions, she tried to stand, but Gan Xun pressed her firmly onto the sofa stool.

“Gan Xun!”

“Here.”

“Let go.”

Gan Xun released her hands but bent down to hug her from behind, gradually tightening her hold, even though Zhao Chiyun had no intention of struggling.

In a soft, cloying tone, she wheedled, “Shall we sleep together tonight?”