After the temperature dropped, the beef became tough to deal with, both in texture and flavor. Gan Xun originally had no appetite for it.
She kept her head down, her body tense all over, which had drained her of too much energy. Even eating felt exhausting; she could only force it down.
She took a sip of juice.
Her stomach started to ache again, twisting in pain, giving her the urge to leave the scene.
She looked up.
Zhao Chiyun was tightly embraced, her arms unable to lift, so she didn’t appear to respond to this sudden hug.
This made Gan Xun feel a little better.
The other woman’s embrace was too fervent. Zhao Chiyun might have worried about losing her balance; her left hand, adorned with a golden bracelet, pressed onto the dining table, her fingertips slightly digging into the tablecloth.
Her mind must have been in chaos, leading to these small gestures.
Gan Xun didn’t know the background, and the woman in front of her hadn’t introduced herself, but a woman’s sixth sense was remarkable.
It allowed one to seize key points amid danger and the unknown, finding the tear in the wound.
It wasn’t strange for two women to embrace, but at a resort dining spot, two excessively beautiful women hugging for so long felt out of place.
Gan Xun silently endured the curious gazes from passing diners and other tables’ guests, sitting quietly, not wanting to show any expression that could be read.
She even considered whether she should smile more happily, to act like the three of them were old friends reuniting in joy.
But that was too difficult; she could only think about it, unable to pull it off.
After the prolonged embrace finally ended, they were willing to let go.
Zhao Chiyun was nearly overjoyed to the point of tears, her eyes fixed on Li Shutang’s face.
It was as if she were checking for changes, yet fearing it was an illusion—the more beautiful things overlapped, the less real they seemed.
The other woman looked at her with eyes full of affection and handed her an exquisite, expensive handkerchief, soothing her in a voice Gan Xun could hear: “Don’t cry, and don’t be scared. From now on, everything’s got me.”
It was as if Zhao Chiyun had encountered some danger, was being held hostage, and she had descended from the heavens to save her.
As if this were the handover ceremony site.
Zhao Chiyun couldn’t hold back two tears, which were absorbed by the fragrant handkerchief. She clutched it and looked toward Gan Xun.
Gan Xun then stood up accordingly.
Zhao Chiyun said to Li Shutang, “Let me introduce her. Her name is Gan Xun. She’s my…”
As Zhao Chiyun turned and spoke, the other woman acted as if she had only just noticed Gan Xun.
She interrupted Zhao Chiyun, extended her hand, and smiled: “Hello, Miss Gan. I’m Chiyun’s old friend.”
This was their third meeting, but Li Shutang didn’t mention it, as if Gan Xun were merely background to her—no coincidence worth noting.
Her greeting was very polite, carrying a perfunctory, businesslike air, devoid of extra emotion.
The scene seemed to remind Gan Xun: you’re not needed here anymore.
Handshakes weren’t common in everyday life for ordinary people, and Gan Xun didn’t like this pretense of familiarity through physical contact.
She touched briefly and let go.
Li Shutang didn’t mind and turned back to Zhao Chiyun. “You’ve finished eating, right?”
“Mm.”
“Miss Gan, Chiyun and I haven’t seen each other in a long time. I’d like to hear about her situation these past days. Could I chat with her alone?”
Her tone was polite.
Gan Xun calmly met her gaze.
They came from the same time and space, their speech rhythms similar, but their temperaments differed.
Zhao Chiyun exuded luxury, with the county princess vibe that seemed troublesome and spoiled. When her smile faded, she appeared distant and aloof, commanding without anger.
In truth, she was understanding, with strong empathy—an outwardly stern but inwardly warm type.
Li Shutang was the opposite. She didn’t seem as modern as she presented; their few meetings hadn’t revealed familiar flaws to Gan Xun.
She treated people with decent courtesy—asking for a girl’s opinion at an outdoor smoking spot, waiting for Gan Xun to end her call at the airport before speaking, and now seeking her input.
Yet she still gave off an unattainable distance, a cold temperament with pressure.
For instance, though phrased as a question, her eyes weren’t awaiting Gan Xun’s reply; they were indifferent, like a polite dismissal.
As if telling Gan Xun the line Zhao Chiyun occasionally used: “You can go now.”
Zhao Chiyun spoke up for her. “She’s with me, so she won’t interrupt our talk. She knows everything, including our identities.”
Li Shutang frowned at that, not entirely pleased. In surprise, she glanced at Gan Xun again, as if finally intending to size up who this person was and whether she could be trusted.
She said to Zhao Chiyun, “I naturally trust your friends, but my current status and situation are complicated. It’s not good to discuss with outsiders. I’d like to speak with you first.”
To Zhao Chiyun, Gan Xun was intimately close, but to Li Shutang, she was indeed an outsider.
Zhao Chiyun understood the reasoning and exchanged a look with Gan Xun, wanting to see her stance.
Gan Xun smiled faintly. “Since you’ve said that much, go ahead and chat. I was planning to head back to the room and rest anyway.”
“That’s fine too. Go back and catch a nap. I’ll come find you later,” Zhao Chiyun said softly.
Gan Xun smiled. “Okay.”
She walked toward the restaurant exit, her steps steady and relaxed. She even checked her phone a few times, casually replying to work messages.
She didn’t look back once, unsure if Zhao Chiyun and the others were watching her or if they eagerly left through another door right after she turned.
They must have been thrilled—reunited after so long, having shared hardships.
She returned to the room in a daze and saw it had been cleaned spotless. She recalled how Zhao Chiyun had meticulously tidied up before they left, even tying up the trash bags.
Gan Xun had said the aunt would clean it, but Zhao Chiyun insisted a mess like that would be mortifying.
Gan Xun had explained, “The aunts have seen it all.”
Zhao Chiyun had even hit her playfully.
Now, she sat alone on the balcony, gazing at the distant sea.
The sea had grown boring, the waves repeating the same motions endlessly. She too remained motionless for a long time.
The note in her hand was what Zhao Chiyun had written for her last night—carefree handwriting, clearly a spur-of-the-moment thing.
After her shower last night, Gan Xun had sobered up a lot. She spotted it only after drying her hair and sitting on the bed’s edge. Reading it, she had silently buried her face in the pillow and cried.
It was probably the alcohol’s effect, plus the whole day’s holiday date, turning her into a fragile creature.
No one else would know that Gan Xun never dared hope Zhao Chiyun looked forward to their future. They only had the present, no tomorrow.
Yet Zhao Chiyun had put it to paper, telling Gan Xun she too wanted to stretch this moment infinitely, to have a shared future.
Such a moment came without prelude, catching one off guard.
Gan Xun couldn’t control her tears. After crying, she wiped her eyes clean and checked the mirror. Post-drinking flush on her face, now red around the eyes too—she looked even more foreign.
So she dimmed the room lights, not wanting to expose herself.
She had to hide from Zhao Chiyun how easily she teared up.
Otherwise, Zhao Chiyun would be baffled again. Every movie, with slightly emotional music, Gan Xun would tear up, leaving Zhao Chiyun stunned.
More importantly, Gan Xun didn’t want her thinking she took these romantic sentiments too seriously, unable to let go.
She feared burdening her, making her hesitant to be kind anymore.
Now, with the vacation ruined, Gan Xun had no urge to cry. She had endless experience: in unease, silence was the best response.
Gan Xun read the note countless times, reminding herself repeatedly that every simplified character on it was sincere, no need for pretense.
Zhao Chiyun enjoyed being with her, satisfied with the birthday they’d spent together.
She shouldn’t doubt that.
But she couldn’t stop herself from recalling Zhao Chiyun’s gaze toward the other woman.
Complex, laced with indescribable joy and anticipation.
She also remembered that time in the park when Zhao Chiyun said she seemed to spot an acquaintance, her lost and wistful expression making Gan Xun quietly ache and tense.
Gan Xun had even asked who it was; she hadn’t said it was her Prime Minister’s Young Lady.
Gan Xun sat on the balcony until three in the morning, finally feeling the sea breeze turn cold. Exhausted and sleepy, she went to bed.
She didn’t set an alarm, figuring Zhao Chiyun wouldn’t return until after dinner.
The two had suffered these past months, gone through so many bizarre events—they must have endless words to share.
As long as Zhao Chiyun returned before nightfall, it would be normal.
Gan Xun even felt a malicious regret: if only she’d slept longer today, skipped the restaurant altogether.
Then she laughed at her own naivety. Li Shutang’s status wouldn’t put her in a hotel like this; she had come specifically for Zhao Chiyun.
These people had connections that reached the heavens. From the airport name-drop that day, they’d likely started investigating, then struck when they were happiest, seizing her travel companion without a word.
When Zhao Chiyun woke her, the sky outside the balcony hadn’t fully darkened yet, though the weather made the dusk far inferior to yesterday’s.
She’d slept deeply and groggily. Seeing the beaming Zhao Chiyun sitting beside her, leaning in softly: “How long have you slept? You didn’t even reply to my messages.”
Smelling the unfamiliar scent from her coat, Gan Xun sobered. “Didn’t check the time. I didn’t know.”
Zhao Chiyun smiled tenderly, brushing the hair near her eyes aside, then leaned down to kiss her eyes and neck.
Fresh from outside, her fingers were cold, lips cool. Gan Xun felt an urge to tremble, to respond—but Zhao Chiyun pulled away.
Zhao Chiyun stood, removed her coat to hang it, washed her face at the vanity, then came over.
Her mood wasn’t as elated as Gan Xun had imagined. Unable to stay calm, Gan Xun asked proactively, “Where did you two chat? Why back so early? Didn’t she invite you to dinner?”
Zhao Chiyun said, “We went to her hotel nearby. She was arranging dinner and even said to have the driver pick you up. I told her we’re traveling together; I wanted to eat alone with you, so we came back first.”
Gan Xun felt herself slowly coming back to life.
Zhao Chiyun added, “Anyway, she’s staying in Mirror City too. She heads back tomorrow, so we can meet anytime. We’ll have dinner together then.”
Gan Xun’s spirits sank halfway again.
“So her name’s Li Shutang. Nice name, and she’s beautiful.”
Zhao Chiyun had always had good taste. The woman’s looks were flawless; if she were average, Gan Xun couldn’t help but snipe cattily in competition.
Zhao Chiyun smiled faintly at that, settling into the bedside sofa. “She looks much more refreshed here. Mirror Country attire felt restrictive on her.”
Like appraising a familiar old friend.
Gan Xun smiled along involuntarily. “You must’ve been happy today, huh?”
Zhao Chiyun’s phone vibrated. She replied to the message, then looked earnestly at Gan Xun. “Meeting an old acquaintance in a foreign land is naturally joyful.”
“So, did you tell your old acquaintance that we’re dating?”
Gan Xun couldn’t help asking, her voice soft.
