Chapter 73: Three Months

She could hear something off in her tone, as if she was enduring it, pretending to be calm.

Zhao Chiyun felt the urge to retreat—her words and actions at odds—and immediately lifted her face from Gan Xun’s palm.

“Still looking.”

She sat up straight with her legs crossed, facing the TV screen. The living room lights were dimmed, enough to make one drowsy, though Zhao Chiyun had no desire to sleep right now.

Time here passed like a white steed flitting by for her.

There were plenty of things to do. At the very least, she could pass her trivial hours by keeping tabs on what others were up to—nothing like her old days of admiring flowers and sipping tea, content to sit across from each other for an entire afternoon.

That morning, right after Gan Xun stepped out, she missed her terribly and made no effort to hide it, even deliberately pestering her a little.

Eating breakfast alone, she tallied it up in her mind: this was the how-many-th day she’d spent by Gan Xun’s side.

Three months.

She pulled up the weather forecast, hoping to see when the rain would finally let up.

The info said tomorrow was the last day.

After that, temperatures would climb back up, the numbers looking like they linked straight into another summer.

It felt like being trapped in a loop—time with no beginning or end, and thus no meaning.

In a meaningless stretch of time and space, what did three months of lingering really mean?

She waited a moment. She’d clearly said she wanted to watch, but Gan Xun didn’t resume playback.

She shot over a dissatisfied glance.

Gan Xun leaned slowly toward her. After a wary “What are you doing?”, Gan Xun shot back: “What were you doing just now?”

Zhao Chiyun was at a loss for words.

She didn’t even know what she’d been doing. Before she knew Gan Xun, she’d never done anything like this.

“Is the hand nice to look at, or nice to kiss?”

Gan Xun wouldn’t let it go, nagging in that annoying way. Zhao Chiyun’s face burned from the questioning, but she didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of a laugh, so she feigned composure.

She lifted her chin and declared: “Both. And they smell great too.”

“Is that so? Then let me smell you.”

Gan Xun dipped her head, drawing close to her collar. Her lips nearly brushed Zhao Chiyun’s neck, and when that warm breath washed over her, half of Zhao Chiyun’s body went numb.

She wasn’t used to it and dodged sideways on instinct.

But Gan Xun still planted her lips there, searing her for an instant, then pulled her close—not letting her pull away too far.

Zhao Chiyun knew full well what sounds she’d make by now and bit her lip preemptively, forcing down the unbearable sensation.

She told Gan Xun: “I want to watch the movie.”

“Zhao Chiyun.”

“What?”

“You tease without a care in the world, but the second I bite, you pull back.”

Gan Xun hashed it out with her. Not too seriously—she was smiling, after all. Less accusation or doubt, more like she was happily going along with it.

Zhao Chiyun pursed her lips.

After last night’s talk, she’d put her idle time to good use today, searching the internet for related info.

It didn’t stray far from what she’d imagined. Lovemaking boiled down to those things, and nothing more.

Still, it left her flushed and heart pounding, unable to settle for ages. Those acts felt so close to what she and Gan Xun might do—like they already had. Yet so distant too; she couldn’t picture it happening between them.

She recalled Cui Can mentioning a yuri movie not long ago. She’d never watched a romance flick with Gan Xun, so she’d snuck off to check it out. Even the censored cut was too much for her.

Right when the two leads hit their first intimate moment halfway through, she’d bailed. Watching them get all lovey-dovey felt weird—the visuals hit too hard.

But she wasn’t about to cop to being the reckless one.

“When did I…”

“Right just now, wasn’t it?”

Gan Xun cut her off, fighting a grin as she asked: “You know how big a deal hands are for lesbians? Kissing one like that? It’s loaded with meaning.”

“Meaning what?”

Gan Xun said: “Listen out the window.”

Zhao Chiyun got it instantly, her face turning red.

Gan Xun pressed on: “I won’t spell it out. It’s exactly what you’re thinking.”

Whether it was Gan Xun’s imagination or not, the shy Zhao Chiyun steadied her gaze in no time, staring her down undaunted: “Is that so?”

“It is.”

Zhao Chiyun let out a cold huff right then, wriggling partway free of her arms. “Fine then, Gan Xun.”

“?”

She scolded sharply: “If that’s how it is, then before—you shoved your hand right in my mouth. What does that make you…”

Desperate to shut down the evidence, Gan Xun clapped a hand over her mouth and tussled with her, the other anchoring the back of her head.

Zhao Chiyun’s eyes went wide, like she hadn’t expected Gan Xun to look so guilty, shooting her a fierce glare.

Not that it intimidated—those eyes were too pretty for that.

Back when Zhao Chiyun first arrived, Gan Xun had been a little scared of her at times.

Her smiles were beautiful, seductive even, but fake—like they hid behind a mask. You could tell she was just deploying her social toolkit to handle you, all for self-preservation.

A sharp flick of the eyes now and then, and when her face hardened, any softness vanished. Gan Xun, good law-abiding citizen that she was, half-suspected blood on those hands.

So she’d reminded her over and over: laws ruled here, cameras everywhere—hoping to keep her in check.

She wasn’t scared anymore. Zhao Chiyun rarely flashed that vibe these days. She could be cute about it, and even when she wasn’t, it felt genuine.

The mask was off.

—Or so Gan Xun figured.

She just hadn’t seen the hole she’d dug for herself.

Zhao Chiyun wrenched the hand off her mouth, highly displeased: “You dare keep me from talking.”

Gan Xun raised her hands a bit, signaling surrender.

“That was… passion of the moment. I figured you got it—and went along with it.”

As if she didn’t know?

Zhao Chiyun eyed her steadily for seconds, then let out a low chuckle.

She leaned in close. “Not bad. You’re not as dumb as you look.”

Gan Xun caught on—she’d been had.

She laughed at herself. Of course Zhao Chiyun got it; the woman picked up on everything fast.

Stuck around Cui Can and the crew that long? Staying pure was a tall order.

So yeah—acquiescence. Indulgence.

Zhao Chiyun tossed it out casually, but firm: “Passion of the moment for me too. Wanted to, so I did. What’s it to you?”

“And retreat whenever you feel like it?”

Zhao Chiyun met her eyes. “I don’t have to retreat.”

Gan Xun leaned back under that stare, settling against the sofa with a throw pillow clutched to her chest.

Last night’s chat replayed, along with Zhao Chiyun’s sobs—too many feelings swirling. No rushing it. They needed time to process.

She dreaded Zhao Chiyun following up with “Beg me.” Dreaded actually begging, only for Zhao Chiyun to laugh it off as a tease.

Wasn’t scared of the laugh—just the letdown. Or her actually saying yes.

Fine, she admitted: she was the coward here.

She reached for the remote. “How about we keep watching the movie?”

Zhao Chiyun beat her to it, snatching the remote and chucking the pillow aside before straddling her lap.

Gan Xun was floored—a proper lady pulling that move?—and froze.

Once settled, Zhao Chiyun braced hands on her shoulders. Gan Xun’s blank look made her think her bold flair had done the trick.

Couldn’t resist bragging: “This County Princess’s horsemanship is unmatched among the capital’s ladies.”

Cars made getting around easy now, but she missed thundering across the plains on horseback. Though she knew Gan Xun’s family couldn’t dream of stabling one.

Her reminiscing cut short—she spotted the issue. “What’s wrong? Your face is beet red.”

Gan Xun wouldn’t die admitting her dirty mind, shaking her head fast: “Nothing.”

“Just ’cause I’m on your lap?”

Zhao Chiyun leaned in, speculating, arms looping her neck as she bent forward a touch: “This shy? Anyone else ever sat here?”

“Never.”

Gan Xun brushed a light peck to the corner of her lips. “Just you. You?”

Zhao Chiyun bit back a smile: “Picked it up from the movie. What do you think?”

Gan Xun didn’t probe the line. The movie didn’t matter.

All she knew: those tamped-down urges roared back. This pose was perfect—she pulled her in for a kiss.

First kiss like this. Gan Xun loved it deep down, and could tell Zhao Chiyun did too. She threw herself into it, breath hitching alluringly now and then, soft moans escaping.

Gan Xun arched her head back, lost in it. Her hand grazed Zhao Chiyun’s hem, inching to slip inside—only to get pinned.

Reason fraying, patience shot, Gan Xun wasn’t shocked. Same old story.

Sniff, but no bite.

Call her old-fashioned? Gan Xun griped to herself.

Zhao Chiyun held her clothes down, warning: “This is out in the open.”

Gan Xun glanced around. “Not outside. Home. No one’s watching.”

Zhao Chiyun shook her head.

That’d make her no better than Xu Yanyan and her crowd back then. What propriety was that?

Gan Xun sighed it off, calming herself slow. To distract, she eyed her brows. “Where’s the asymmetry?”

Zhao Chiyun breathed lightly, asking: “Can’t you tell?”

“Nope.”

“Then your eyes are busted.”

Gan Xun: “…”

They shared a speechless beat. Gan Xun mustered courage: “Room okay then?”

Zhao Chiyun said nothing, sliding off her lap first to hug her knees on the sofa.

While she mulled it, Gan Xun fiddled and hit play on the movie.

They watched in weird silence for a stretch. During a lull in the plot, Gan Xun remembered and mentioned the work dinner invite.

Pulling away meant waiting for real talk, real coaxing—not some hazy sofa tumble.

But Gan Xun went back to the movie, started chatting. No obsession in sight.

Disappointed? Dropping it?

Gan Xun finished. Zhao Chiyun didn’t balk like expected—eyes glued to the screen. “Then go. Mingling with colleagues is just work.”

“Turning down every invite isn’t smart. Fitting in’s foolproof. Rare chance like this? Say yes quick. Text ’em tonight—shows you’re sincere.”

Gan Xun didn’t shoot down the old-school take, but hearing it from her was wild.

“You get all this.”

Zhao Chiyun bristled at the backhanded praise, coolly: “What, your society’s some big mystery?”

“Still just men and women, power plays, schmoozing. This County Princess has seen it all.” Arrogance dripped.

Talking this stuff lit her up—cool, magnetic.

“Our society’s no mystery. And nobody flawless like you.”

Gan Xun laid praise thick.

Zhao Chiyun paused, then: “So—want to? With me?”

Whiplash shift. Gan Xun halted, staring to confirm.

Zhao Chiyun kept eyes on the movie, even: “Room works.”

“Now?”

“Mm. Figured it out. Last night? Doesn’t matter. Chastity, marriage—empty words, useless to me now. You got it wrong. Great Mirror folk aren’t like here, but we’re not all locked down.”

“Never planned dragging some ‘pure’ body home. No regrets—that’s what I want.”

“You figured it? Want to? Or not?”

She put it to Gan Xun.

No answer yet—Zhao Chiyun added softly: “If you do, I won’t back off.”

Gan Xun paused the movie, rose, and crouched before her.

“I’ll carry you.”