Chapter 81: Piecing Together Her Soul

The thin night shadows splashed across the building. Without lights, people had no way to clearly see each other’s faces in the darkness.

They could no longer spy on or cater to each other’s moods.

Ever since candle flames had been replaced by an inexhaustible source of light, the view was always clear at any time, leaving no room for blur or gloom.

She had grown accustomed to the brightness. If she ever returned to the Mirror Country one day, she figured it would take some time to adjust. And thanks to the light, her ability to read expressions had improved a lot compared to before.

Gan Xun’s bag contained a laptop and various small items, slung over one shoulder.

She had rushed over from the company, far from the refreshed state she had been in that morning when leaving home. Her posture was somewhat lazy, but she did not show much fatigue.

When she looked at people, her expression was still like basking in a spring breeze, making others instinctively want to trust her, rely on her—regardless of her wealth or poverty.

“What?”

She asked, smoothly pulling her wrist free from Zhao Chiyun’s grasp.

She glanced at the peephole by the door, somehow feeling that Cui Can, once inside, would anxiously peek out at them, worried they might argue.

Zhao Chiyun pursed her lips as she looked at her. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been so sparing with words with that “what.” Gan Xun was never cold; if she didn’t understand, she would express plenty of curiosity.

The smile on Gan Xun’s face faded a little. She looked at Zhao Chiyun quietly and peacefully, then suddenly laughed again, self-mockingly. “Even if I know, I’m not going to repeat it for you.”

The hallway light dimmed briefly, then brightened again as Gan Xun stepped aside. The light fragmented into her pupils, and she lowered her head uncomfortably, leaning against the wall as she looked at their shadows.

She continued, “If I tell you, I heard it. You had no choice. If you did, you wouldn’t have chosen me. You would definitely leave me. Everything we have now is just fleeting happiness, like food with an expiration date.”

“You entrusted my friend to comfort me when the time comes. That’s the greatest kindness you can show me.”

“Is that how it is?”

Gan Xun took a deep breath and looked up directly at her. “If that’s the case, then I’ve heard it.”

Zhao Chiyun stared at her unblinkingly, as if trying to discern the emotions behind Gan Xun’s words, so she did not reply immediately.

Gan Xun thought she was displeased and explained, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I reached the door just as she asked you. I instinctively stopped, not wanting to interrupt your deep conversation.”

“But then I heard how you replied to her. Will you blame me?”

“No,” Gan Xun answered without hesitation.

This stunned Zhao Chiyun for a moment. She knew their relationship now differed from before, so even if Gan Xun got angry at her, it would be justified. Though she had guessed Gan Xun would be forgiving, she hadn’t expected such a straightforward and decisive response.

Gan Xun said, “Put yourself in my shoes. If I went to your country, your territory—even if you gave me the most luxurious life—if there was a chance to return, I would go back.”

“It’s only natural that you want to go home. I won’t blame you. We agreed on that. No matter what stage our relationship reaches, it won’t overturn our original agreement.”

“But you’ll feel bad, and if you feel bad, I’ll feel bad too.” Zhao Chiyun could sense it.

Everyone knew wanting to go home was only natural. If Gan Xun were the outsider with a chance to leave, Zhao Chiyun would support her return to her homeland without reservation.

When she had spoken to Cui Can, she had kept all emotions at bay, giving a rational reply.

But now, with Gan Xun right in front of her, she recalled that night’s dream—the collapse and pain when she thought she was in the Mirror Country and would never see Gan Xun again.

Gan Xun just laughed helplessly. “If you don’t want me to feel bad, I can’t help it, because I have a heart.”

The curve of her lips was shallow, seemingly indulgent as always, but the bend in her eyes made Zhao Chiyun sense sadness—like she wanted to cry but instinctively smiled at people instead.

Zhao Chiyun raised her hand to touch her eye, but Gan Xun deftly avoided it just before contact.

Gan Xun’s back left the wall.

Her tone was gentle. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. It’s as meaningful and meaningless as talking about death. We all know we’ll die, but we don’t know when. Isn’t it the same principle? We can’t control it.”

Did humans who longed for immortality constantly imagine the time, circumstances, and place of their death, tormenting themselves?

In that instant, Zhao Chiyun had her first negative thought for the first time. Staying by Gan Xun’s side, making her fall in love, and accepting a farewell as undated as death—was that a form of cruelty?

She had never understood why Gan Xun treated her so contradictorily before—joy almost overflowing in her brows and eyes, yet never voicing her desires or longings, sometimes even avoiding her.

She had only seen it as caution, cherishing, or ingratitude to some degree.

She had never considered it self-love, self-protection, not wanting to endure the cruelty of gaining and then losing.

The hand that hadn’t touched Gan Xun slowly dropped to her side. Zhao Chiyun was usually the one never short of words, but today, unusually, she didn’t know what to say.

Yet Gan Xun was full of witty remarks, her thoughts clear, as if she had envisioned this scene a thousand times.

Finally, she said warmly, “Chiyun, don’t overthink it, okay? Every day we’re together, I just want you to be happy.”

“Don’t worry about me. What I have now is enough to offset any future worries.”

She took Zhao Chiyun’s hand and rang the doorbell.

Once inside, the dishes were already on the table. Gan Xun apologized and they went to wash their hands together before sitting down to eat.

Cui Can and Tang Sifeng tactfully asked no questions. After the meal, Gan Xun helped clean up while Zhao Chiyun played with the cats for a bit.

Once both cats grew tired and turned aloof and dismissive, ignoring her, she had no choice but to stop.

During this, Cui Can asked Gan Xun, “She likes cats so much. Do you two want to get one?”

Gan Xun glanced toward Zhao Chiyun, her originally neutral expression gaining a hint of amusement. She asked her, “One heartbreak later is enough. Do you want me to be a single mom too?”

“I’m not some tragic heroine!”

Cui Can asked, “Did you fight?”

“No, why would we fight? Don’t worry about me.”

“I figured. Blame me for being nosy. Asking her today was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Mostly, I wanted to know if she still had confidence about going back. I always feel like she probably can’t go back.”

“But she assumes she will leave, so I asked—to help you understand what she’s thinking.”

Gan Xun said, “It’s not about confidence. As long as you desperately want it, you won’t give up hope. Since we can’t be sure she won’t go back, of course we’re preparing for it.”

“Okay, this is so tough. Finding someone so compatible, and it can’t last.”

She hadn’t said anything, but now the suffocating sensation crept up from her ankles again, covering Gan Xun’s nasal cavity until she felt cold all over and short of breath.

Gan Xun forced a smile. “Don’t worry. If it really happens, I’ll process it myself. I won’t drag you into it.”

“Saying that, are you even human? I’m not that heartless. When the time comes, I’ll lock you in my house to stop you from doing anything stupid.” Cui Can said it dead seriously.

Gan Xun looked at her in mock horror.

Five minutes later, she led away the Zhao Chiyun who had been rejected by the cats.

After showering, it was already past ten-thirty. Both had been busy all day and wanted to sleep early. They returned to the room together, and Zhao Chiyun lay down without even picking up a book.

Gan Xun turned off the light directly, lay down, checked the alarm once, and prepared to sleep.

Until Zhao Chiyun rolled over from lying flat to face her and softly asked, “Are you asleep?”

“Almost,” Gan Xun said.

“Oh, then please continue.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You sleep first. If you can’t sleep, we can chat.”

Gan Xun chuckled lowly in the dark and yawned. “Teasing me like this, now I can’t sleep.”

Zhao Chiyun leaned in and kissed her lips and nose tip. “If you’re overthinking and can’t sleep, or if you want to, why not get close to me for a bit.”

Gan Xun asked, “Who’s overthinking, can’t sleep, and wants to get close?”

After a pause, Zhao Chiyun wrapped her arm around her waist. “Fine, it’s me. I want you. Will you serve this County Princess?”

Gan Xun wasn’t asleep anyway, of course she was willing—and wanted it too. With permission granted, she didn’t hold back.

That night, without lights, in the silence and dimness, Zhao Chiyun clearly felt Gan Xun’s well-hidden unhappiness.

After Gan Xun kissed down to her waist and abdomen, lingered for a moment, and came back up, she endured her shame and asked, “Do you want to kiss me?”

Gan Xun didn’t grasp it immediately. Once she did, she hesitated. “Don’t you dislike it?”

“I don’t dislike it. I’m just… not used to facing it. In truth,” she nibbled Gan Xun’s earlobe, “it feels very good.”

Gan Xun’s breathing grew heavy from her provocation, uncontrollably sinking as if falling into a long-craved zone.

But her rationality didn’t snap entirely. She knew Zhao Chiyun might not be over it yet and was doing this to cheer her up, fearing she was unhappy.

Still, refusing would be rude. She wasn’t that noble.

Especially since, during her hesitation, Zhao Chiyun took her hand and guided it to touch. “Don’t you want to?” Zhao Chiyun asked in a sticky, needy tone.

Gan Xun, controlled by her irrational side, kissed down.

The person she liked gave her intense sensory stimulation. Afterward, she felt people were pretty vulgar—actually able to find release from such things.

While helping clean up, after she remarked “so much,” tonight’s unusually compliant County Princess Zhao got competitive. “Did I make you feel a lot too?”

Thus, the latter half ended in laughter, Gan Xun’s compromise, and Zhao Chiyun’s satisfaction. They rinsed off simply and changed clothes.

After lying down again, it was past midnight.

Zhao Chiyun was more exhausted than her and fell into a deep sleep in her arms. Before drifting off, she murmured to Gan Xun, “I like being by your side.”

Gan Xun felt that Zhao Chiyun had completely fallen for her.

She didn’t compare to distant homeland or cherished friends and family. She could feel that Zhao Chiyun cared about her emotions, piecing together her soul.

As long as the day of departure hadn’t come, every day here, she didn’t need to feel uneasy. Thinking this way, she felt content. They weren’t different from ordinary couples in love.

Time flew by too fast to record. At the end of the month, when the long holiday arrived, Gan Xun was shocked to see a brand-new bicycle at home.

In her plans, the holiday was for teaching Zhao Chiyun to ride—though Zhao Chiyun might not want to learn. She hadn’t expected her to buy one.

Zhao Chiyun said lightly, “I’ve already learned. This is my Mid-Autumn gift to myself.”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t like it? When did you learn?”

“I figured it was still necessary. Lately, I’ve been diligently practicing, and Cui Can gave me professional guidance.”

There was meaning behind her words, and Gan Xun wasn’t very happy, so she nitpicked. “You only bought one for yourself. Where’s my holiday gift?”

Zhao Chiyun replied matter-of-factly, “Having the honor of witnessing this County Princess ride is your grand gift.”

Gan Xun: “……”