Chapter 70: Against Propriety

Thunder crashed one after another, each louder than the last.

Gan Xun heard it now.

The person in her arms shrank back because of it, hugging her even tighter. Ice-cold fingertips poked right at the small of her back, seeping through the fabric, yet making her feel heat.

It was just like summer had not yet passed.

The rain poured like a summer storm too, majestic in its force, stirred into frenzy by the thunder.

Half of Gan Xun’s body felt like it was about to burn up. She panicked for a moment before stammering an explanation of modern terminology to Zhao Chiyun. “I don’t have it. But it’s not that possessiveness only kicks in after you’ve claimed someone.”

“It’s that as long as you want to claim someone for yourself, that’s possessiveness.” It bred jealousy and inferiority, unease and repression.

Her voice grew smaller as she spoke.

Zhao Chiyun watched her with focused eyes, a focus laced with the lingering affection unique to autumn.

Gan Xun could not help but think that when she spoke to others, she probably looked at them the same way.

It was hard not to misunderstand.

But that was not Zhao Chiyun’s fault. She could not blame her for being born that way.

Earlier on the subway, Gan Xun had overheard Zhao Chiyun talking to that sweetly deceptive Yan Qing through her earphones.

Her heart had soured ever since, as if a lemon tree had taken root there. She could even picture Zhao Chiyun smiling as she gazed at someone else.

Even a cold tone and a gentle refusal—Gan Xun did not want that person to have any of it.

So she grew anxious, wanting to burst in suddenly and whisk Zhao Chiyun away.

She knew Zhao Chiyun had called her proactively to reassure her.

Because Gan Xun had previously forbidden her from taking the tutoring job and urged caution with this person, Zhao Chiyun had informed her right away upon accepting the offer.

She had been very obedient.

It would not have mattered if she had not done those things.

Naturally, Gan Xun would not forbid Zhao Chiyun from normal social interactions over nothing.

Possessiveness was reasonable, but it should be expressed healthily, she told herself.

“Claim for yourself?”

Zhao Chiyun murmured the phrase softly, her tone sticky, as if kissed, carrying a hint of laughter that was hard to discern.

But the word was still too direct for her.

Her cheeks flushed, and her gaze no longer met Gan Xun’s directly; it shifted slightly away.

Gan Xun had lain down at some point. With her heart pounding too fast, she needed an anchor to appear as steady and calm as possible.

Even the rigidly rule-bound, conservative people of ancient times were more composed when discussing such matters than she was. It was truly one of the achievements of modern content censorship.

Gan Xun did not even have the courage to say “mm.” This conversation was beyond her expectations.

She had been thinking earlier at work about how to coax Zhao Chiyun later, so she would not be upset by her words.

But she had not expected their reunion to lead to a passive discussion of possessiveness, claiming, and taking for oneself.

“So, you have possessiveness toward me…”

“Not much.”

Gan Xun hurried to interject, then added softly, “Just a little.”

She did not want to sound like a paranoid person. She had always said “I hope you go back soon,” so how could she now claim she wanted to take someone for herself?

She feared that if Zhao Chiyun detected her contradiction, she would grow wary of her.

She did not want that at all.

She was content for now.

Zhao Chiyun paused, then shifted in her arms to lie on the pillow instead, so she could talk to her more easily.

Only then did she continue her interrupted words. “But you don’t want to claim me?”

“Otherwise, sharing a bed and pillow at the modern pace—why have you never once begged me for it?”

“Ah? Yes, I… no, that’s not right, we can’t say it like that.”

Gan Xun grew incoherent, thinking the embracing position made it hard to speak clearly, so she planned to sit up.

But Zhao Chiyun refused to let her, as if she thought Gan Xun meant to flee.

Zhao Chiyun held her tightly. “Then how should we say it?”

Gan Xun could feel the vibration of her lips as she spoke. They were too close; she wanted to kiss her but knew it was not the time.

Speaking was far harder than kissing.

She felt inexplicably helpless amid the relentless wind and rain, and gave up resisting. “Then I’ll just ask directly?”

“But asking is fine.”

“Is your ancient idea of ‘claiming’ the same as what modern people think?”

Zhao Chiyun smiled. “I’m wondering that too.”

Because of her smile, Gan Xun relaxed a lot. “Then you say yours first.”

“Why should I go first?”

“Noble people usually speak first.”

Gan Xun said.

The tactic worked even now. Zhao Chiyun happily accepted, her gaze locking onto Gan Xun’s before veering away as if pricked. “Naturally,”

She pressed close to Gan Xun’s ear. “Listen outside the window.”

Gan Xun’s focused attention scattered. Just as she wondered if she was still scared of thunder, she heard a soft, seductive whisper: “share the joys of cloud and rain.”

Thunder struck straight into Gan Xun’s mind, crashing one after another, deafening and unending. She nearly trembled.

Love and desire ran wild in the bleak season, just like the autumn rain that should have been a gentle drizzle turning into this clamor—unreasonable yet natural.

Gan Xun tasted the lingering “rain” at the end. She could not hold back, simply listening quietly as Zhao Chiyun spoke.

She felt Zhao Chiyun shift from passive confusion to cooperation, then back to confusion.

Too many thoughts mingled in the kiss, growing ever thicker, until Zhao Chiyun could no longer take them all.

Ancient speech was beautiful and intriguing, chewing over words and phrases, yet describing something so vividly.

Her arms hugged Zhao Chiyun tightly, lightly caressing, gripping, her hearing dulled yet still catching some enchanting sounds.

Gan Xun no longer felt jealous of others, because no one else would experience this. Zhao Chiyun was generous only with her.

She whispered something in Zhao Chiyun’s ear.

“Shut up.”

Zhao Chiyun could not resist. Overwhelmed with emotions, she glanced at her before burying her face in the pillow, as if hiding her feelings.

Gan Xun wanted to kiss her, but Zhao Chiyun seemed to anticipate it and pressed down on her clothes first.

She used no strength at all. Gan Xun was certain she could remove it with a gentle tug.

But she knew this was not a contest of strength.

Gan Xun followed her lead, relaxing her hand and withdrawing it flat across the waist too slender to grasp.

Zhao Chiyun let out a soft moan.

Gan Xun’s pieced-together reason scattered unwittingly, leading her to act for more.

Zhao Chiyun pressed her hand down again.

Gan Xun paused, obediently removing her hand from the edge of the fabric.

But as if aggrieved, she kissed Zhao Chiyun fiercely, a bit roughly, startling her. Instinctively, Zhao Chiyun bit her.

Not lightly, either.

Pain brought Gan Xun to a halt, her boiling blood slowly cooling. Fortunately, as the thoughts faded, her expression relaxed much more than before.

Zhao Chiyun straightened her nightgown, unsure how to address her. “I just finished, and you haven’t said yours yet. How did you just…”

Gan Xun asked sheepishly, “Do you really think we still need to say it?”

Zhao Chiyun countered, “Why not? So, is that what it means here?”

Gan Xun sighed helplessly, covering her face with both hands to calm down. “Mm, pretty much the same as ours.”

“Then you…”

Gan Xun interrupted her again. “Do you still think I don’t want to claim you?”

She removed her hands, looking at the person beside her. “Wouldn’t it be weirder if I didn’t? But Chiyun, do you want it?”

Zhao Chiyun fell silent. The places she had been touched still held lingering heat—the measured waist, the tugged and snapped-back edge of her undergarments—all forced her to choose her words carefully.

Gan Xun felt she understood. “I think what you mean is, you don’t want it right now, and you don’t accept it yet. But you still hope I want it, right?”

“Now I’m telling you, I do want it. A lot.”

Gan Xun could understand. Everyone liked it when the person they chose had endless thoughts about them.

But not every thought was one they wished to indulge.

Zhao Chiyun wondered how she was so certain. “Why must I be the one who doesn’t want it, doesn’t accept it, yet hopes you do?”

“Are you practicing mind-reading?”

“Because of ancient traditions, I think you see the Three Matchmakers and Six Betrothal Gifts as the prerequisite for intimacy. And you, you’ll have to go back eventually. If we…”

Gan Xun had not known before, but voicing these half-hearted reasons made her so sad her mind blanked for an instant.

Immense sorrow gripped her. She could not think how to express it with her own words.

She could only recall Zhao Chiyun’s flowery phrases. She said, “Against propriety.”

Zhao Chiyun had asked why she had never mentioned it, using the word “beg,” which showed she took it seriously too.

Gan Xun certainly did not want to beg. What if Zhao Chiyun softened or agreed reluctantly to avoid ruining things, only to regret it afterward? What then?

Gan Xun would die of heartache.

“Against propriety?”

Zhao Chiyun echoed questioningly. After Gan Xun’s dry agreement, she laughed, as if Gan Xun had told a bad joke.

She asked Gan Xun, “Are you deliberately trying to upset me right now?”

“No.”

Gan Xun just could not help thinking more.

After all, she could never truly claim this person for herself.

And just now, it was Zhao Chiyun who had refused. She had that much insight.

“You know I don’t want the Three Matchmakers and Six Betrothal Gifts.”

Her voice cooled a little.

She lay flat, passing the night’s hours with the now-calm Gan Xun.

Not wanting something and being able not to have it were not the same. Gan Xun thought.

If Zhao Chiyun went back, she would have to face those things eventually. Perhaps she had not considered it.

Or maybe she had, but Gan Xun pointing it out still ruined the mood.

Gan Xun did not want to ruin it.

But she noticed Zhao Chiyun was indeed following that line of thought, so she did not press further.

Gan Xun felt it was good, yet a bit sad.

Zhao Chiyun rolled over, turning her back to her.

Gan Xun saw the shape of her shoulder blades. Her back was slender, the spine straight and elegant. Gan Xun had seen it before, but not in bed—when she had turned away to change clothes.

Her emotions rose and fell. Gan Xun grew sleepy and asked softly, “Shall we go back to the other side to sleep?”

Zhao Chiyun suddenly flipped back around, looking at her with some petulance. “I insist on sleeping here. You won’t even let me have the room?”

Gan Xun was speechless, staring at her in a daze.

Who had refused to come over before?

Of course, she did not dare contradict her aloud. She said weakly, “Okay, then here.”

Zhao Chiyun was still unsatisfied, asking grudgingly, “Be honest. Is it because I have a betrothal back in the Mirror Country that you’re holding a grudge and won’t accept me?”

“??” Gan Xun shook her head vigorously.

“Then what did you mean by that? Gan Xun, you’re not that feudal, are you?”

She could hardly believe it.

Gan Xun short-circuited. “What?”

What was she even saying?