Chapter 8: Dragonfly Kiss

The three rushed into the apartment building.

Cui Can’s house was on the 26th floor. They swiped a card in the elevator, and Gan Xun pointed upward while explaining to Zhao Chiyun: “This is called an elevator. It can take us up to the high floors.”

“It turns out to be a cloud-riding fog-driving technique.”

Zhao Chiyun thought for a moment. “No, that’s an airplane. This can only be called a cloud-ascending technique.”

“Literate person, what a nice name. Haha, you don’t have this there, right? Feel it.”

Cui Can, still wearing a green hat on her head yet in the mood to show off technology, gave Gan Xun tremendous comfort. Human nature was just that boring.

The instant the elevator shot upward rapidly, Zhao Chiyun felt unwell.

She first grabbed the wall, but it didn’t help. Then she gripped Gan Xun’s hand as if seeking help.

Gan Xun was in the middle of working on Cui Can mentally, telling her to communicate properly, courtesy before force.

The moment her hand was held, she was stunned. Her first reaction wasn’t rejection, but they’d only hugged and cuddled at home—how could she do this in front of Cui Can?

She felt a bit shy because of it.

Facing Cui Can’s probing gaze, she slowly turned her head to look.

Zhao Chiyun’s face held a gravity Gan Xun had never seen, her brows furrowed as if she felt very unwell. Her hand gripped tighter and tighter, like clutching a lifeline.

Gan Xun understood and let concern take over, no longer thinking random thoughts.

She gripped back and let Zhao Chiyun lean against her. “Feeling bad, right? It’ll stop as soon as we arrive. Elevators are very safe. Relax.”

Gan Xun wasn’t lying; she meant right away. Not long after she spoke, the discomfort in her chest vanished.

The ground steadied beneath their feet, and a voice announced nearby: “26th floor.”

Zhao Chiyun thought again that they no longer rode horses, yet they still said “right away.” This verbal connection gave her an inexplicable comfort.

The elevator doors opened, and Gan Xun led her out slowly by the hand.

It should have ended there, but what poured oil on the fire was a large window embedded in the wall right by the elevator, overlooking the cityscape.

Zhao Chiyun had never climbed such a tall building before. It felt like floating in the air, close enough to pluck stars.

Her legs instantly went weak, her knees soft.

Gan Xun caught her in a full embrace. Before her brain could process, her face flushed red.

Zhao Chiyun wore her clothes, her scent a mix of familiar freshness and unfamiliar allure.

She recalled the drama they’d watched together last night, a scene where the protagonist tossed incense chips into a censer.

That scent had burned all night and was finally releasing now.

She was insensitive to fragrances and couldn’t describe it, only knowing it was very feminine, very intimate.

It evoked all things implicit, metaphorical, and stirring.

Pushing down the untimely daze, Gan Xun forced herself to stay calm.

She gave a sheepish smile to Cui Can, who was about to barge in, while soothing the person in her arms: “I’m here, I’m here. Deep breaths.”

It wasn’t time for battle yet, but the two were being affectionate, as if at a life-or-death moment.

Cui Can grew suspicious. What had they done to us?

Just rode an elevator.

“Afraid of heights? Just don’t look outside. You won’t fall. I like the view, so I bought a high floor.”

Seeing Zhao Chiyun truly uncomfortable, Cui Can said: “You two wait here. I’ll go in first and check the situation. If I can’t handle it, I’ll call you.”

“No, no, no. Wait a bit.”

Gan Xun stopped her. “Did you hear? No hitting. Talk it out.”

She lowered her head to brief Zhao Chiyun in time: “Here, no one can hit anyone casually. Light penalty is compensation, heavy is jail. Don’t act impulsively when you go in.”

“You think I’m some brute.”

Gan Xun laughed. She still had energy to retort, so no major issue.

With important business today, Zhao Chiyun knew she couldn’t fail before starting, so she quickly rallied her spirits.

Just don’t look out the window.

She stood steady, only holding Gan Xun’s arm. “No problem. I’m fine now.”

With morale boosted, Cui Can found her rhythm, fire in her eyes, and unlocked the door with her fingerprint.

To Zhao Chiyun, this was practically sorcery—Gan Xun’s home still needed keys.

The door opened. The place wasn’t huge, but it was more spacious and bright than Gan Xun’s home.

The Cui family had always been well-off.

Gan Xun thought the procedure was to barge in and flip the bedding, but they were late. Someone in the kitchen was playing music while washing fruit—she’d already gotten up.

Hearing the door, a young woman poked her head out and spotted the group.

Her face froze for a moment, then she smiled warmly. “Hi.”

It “hi”ed Gan Xun into a daze, disrupting her planned action at that moment.

As the saying went, you don’t hit a smiling face.

This was a young girl, not very old, with a head of red hair, dressed sexy and casual—a loose T-shirt, no bra or pants.

Strawberry marks on her neck and chest were vivid, clearly freshly planted.

In Gan Xun’s peripheral vision, Zhao Chiyun averted her gaze, her chest heaving as she clearly calmed her emotions.

Mirror Dynasty probably had no such scene.

Cui Can’s eyes shot cold light as she glared icily. “Where is she?”

The woman hesitated, then said: “Taking a shower.”

It sounded provocative. Cui Can nearly retched and shot her a fierce glare before storming inside.

But Gan Xun had sharp eyes and spotted torn erotic lingerie on the sofa from afar, toys on the coffee table, used finger cots scattered on the floor, and discarded wrappers.

She immediately stopped and pulled Zhao Chiyun back. “Don’t go over yet.”

Zhao Chiyun was puzzled but saw Gan Xun’s bad expression and sensed danger, so she obediently halted.

Cui Can took a few steps closer and saw it all. Rage surged from her chest straight to her head.

She turned and pointed at her, cursing: “You disgust me. The bed wasn’t enough for you to mess up—you had to ruin my sofa too.”

“Using finger cots I bought, no less. Hooking up and treating me like your sponsor? Why not have me film a video for you right there.”

Zhao Chiyun only understood half, but half was enough.

Her face flushed faintly. Doing it in the living room… far too brazen.

Sunlight so bright, and with another’s wife no less—they were truly shameless.

Gan Xun felt sorry for her friend and grew very angry.

She asked the red-haired woman: “Did you know she has a girlfriend?”

The three stood together, average height nearly 1.7 meters.

“Victim” Cui Can had a voice like a bell, eyes like copper bells, face screaming flammable and explosive.

The other two seemed politer but no pushovers.

One all in black, bracelet coiled on her wrist, like a gangster.

The other bundled up tight in the heat, wearing sunglasses indoors, like fresh out of jail.

The red-haired woman was decisive: “I didn’t know.”

And so that day, only Cui Can’s ex-girlfriend Xu Yanyan got beaten.

Zhao Chiyun, new arrival, didn’t know the local rules for catching cheaters and just joined the fray—taking the bag Cui Can tossed before charging into the room.

She was very satisfied with this outing.

It confirmed this place truly existed, not a dream; she couldn’t dream up such details.

Confirmed it wasn’t a trap designed by thieves for her—otherwise, no Gan Xun, no such trivial cheating drama.

Finally, most importantly, the spectacle was quite entertaining.

Their way of catching cheaters only beat their own—no excessive harm.

Cui Can’s “husband” was a woman, but Zhao Chiyun glanced from outside the room: hair cropped like a refugee, body tattooed with dragons and phoenixes.

The matter was amusing yet tragic.

Turns out love between women, as Gan Xun said, was true yet prone to rot—like lychees.

Zhao Chiyun spotted lychees in the fruit platter on the dining table. Her heart moved, but her hand didn’t.

She sat in the dining area, looking around.

Cui Can’s home had two adorable cats, one white and one yellow, timidly hiding in the corner meowing.

Zhao Chiyun watched happily but feared startling them and didn’t approach.

Inside the room, Cui Can’s tone collapsed, unlike her calm demeanor at the door. Sounds of smashing things and slaps occasionally emerged, mixed with Gan Xun’s earnest persuasion.

Turns out someone dressed like an assassin was playing ambassador.

Her gaze fell on the living room, and she furrowed her brows.

Little Third Girl, under Gan Xun’s orders, unwillingly cleaned up the living room mess.

After casually wiping the sofa, she turned and saw the woman who’d removed her sunglasses.

She sat primly, still as an ancient painting, the surrounding air and light seemingly frozen.

Her gaze toward Little Third Girl was cold and indifferent, gone in a flash.

The red-haired woman pushed the washed fruit toward her, eyes fixed on Zhao Chiyun’s face: “Try some.”

Zhao Chiyun never trusted food prepared by strangers, but Little Third Girl ate it happily herself and said it was very sweet.

She didn’t want to deal with this person and instead recalled Gan Xun’s instruction before leaving: don’t reveal her identity, don’t mention her origins to anyone.

Such a thing was utterly unique; saying it would only bring trouble.

Reluctantly, she picked one and put it in her mouth.

Without chewing it fully, she praised: “These black little fruits are quite refreshing and sweet.”

“That’s blueberries, duh. You talk so funny.”

How rude.

Zhao Chiyun endured the displeasure, unwilling to let her probe, and deflected: “You really didn’t know she had a girlfriend?”

Blueberry Girl made a “shh” gesture and glanced back at the tightly shut bedroom door.

Zhao Chiyun took the chance to grab a tissue and spit out the blueberry in her mouth.

Blueberry Girl turned back, blinked, and whispered: “Secret: I knew.”

“I figured.” Zhao Chiyun sneered inwardly.

“It wasn’t me who seduced her first. She hit on me on Rela, said she was single and lonely. I don’t care if she has someone. Just playing around—who cares if she lied.”

“Seeing your vibe just now, I got it. Can I tell the truth? Even if I do, won’t I still get beaten?”

“Those who understand the times are heroes.”

Zhao Chiyun thought Blueberry Girl resembled her.

Just utterly shameless.

Gan Xun was right: women too could be frivolous and fickle, not entirely reassuring.

The kiss mark at her collarbone was vivid as cinnabar, quite striking.

Zhao Chiyun thought coolly: why bother? Who knew if they sought pleasure or revenge.

Though inexperienced, she recognized it.

Years ago, after Big Sister married, she’d seen one on Big Sister’s neck—not this red.

Big Sister had covered it with heavy powder and fanned it hidden.

But her sharp eyes spotted it. She asked innocently, only to be scolded by the embarrassed Big Sister and learn the reason.

This girl felt no shame at all, as if they were mere birthmarks.

She didn’t even change clothes, legs bare, eating fruit brazenly while flashing flirtatious glances and charm at strangers.

Yesterday at first sight, she’d thought Gan Xun mad.

Now she realized Gan Xun was perfectly normal.

At least she knew shame.

Earlier, Gan Xun had arranged for her to wait in the dining area, specially warning: don’t sit on the sofa.

Their eyes met knowingly for an instant, then parted.

Like a dragonfly kiss over a suddenly clear lake surface.