Chapter 97: The Grand Crescendo

Gan Xun’s before-and-after contradiction drew Zhao Chiyun’s gaze.

She hadn’t felt guilty at first, but under that look, she couldn’t help explaining, “Polite words are necessary. Only after saying it did I realize her partner is different from Tang Sifeng—not someone you can just bring out casually.”

Zhao Chiyun smiled faintly and said, “I know. But even if he wanted to come himself, I wouldn’t allow it. What’s there to chat about with a man? It’d just ruin the mood.”

Gan Xun asked her, “You don’t like her boyfriend?”

Zhao Chiyun was also very honest. She nodded, her chin rubbing against the blanket with a soft sound. “I don’t like him.”

She didn’t explain the reason, as if her dislike for Li Shutang’s fiancé was the most natural thing in the world.

Gan Xun wanted to say something but held it back.

The matter was settled.

Zhao Chiyun had previously invited Li Shutang upstairs, but Li Shutang said Gan Xun wasn’t home, so it wasn’t convenient to disturb her. They could have a meal together another time when she had the chance.

Zhao Chiyun saw through her evasion but thought she should meet her girlfriend. If she truly couldn’t accept that the person she liked was a woman, then they couldn’t go on living peacefully together forever.

She asked when she had time, and after some consideration, Li Shutang gave this date.

Gan Xun had proactively suggested coming home to eat, which naturally made her very happy. Compared to the glitzy lights and wine of a restaurant, she preferred staying home.

As for Yin Zhe, she had only seen him once in all these days, in Li Shutang’s office.

That day, Shu Tang wore a pair of high heels, tall and capable. The two of them standing together were almost the same height, and such a small difference made Zhao Chiyun feel rather bland about it.

The man wasn’t terribly flawed, but during their conversation, he loved cracking straight-guy jokes.

For example, if Zhao Chiyun were still single, his brothers were hers to pick from—he’d vouch for them, no one with bad character recommended.

Zhao Chiyun thought to herself, what kind of crown prince was this? Even the Matchmaker God was busier than him.

She believed she didn’t need to explain in detail—Gan Xun would know that it was perfectly normal for such a bland man not to be liked.

After that, the two didn’t talk much. They each finished their tasks at hand and decided to sleep. With the days short and nights long now, their rest time had shifted earlier.

Once the lights were off, the room darkened. They covered themselves with a thicker blanket—it wasn’t cold, but Zhao Chiyun still scooted into Gan Xun’s arms.

A while back, Gan Xun had been sick and hadn’t slept in the same bedroom for those few days, saying she was afraid of passing it on.

Sleeping alone, she hadn’t slept well.

It was hard to fall asleep, and she had many dreams at night. Not all were clear enough to remember upon waking, but the hazy ones left her feeling even less rested.

Only after Gan Xun had mostly recovered did they start sleeping together again.

Holding Gan Xun as she fell asleep was a warm thing, both psychologically and physically.

Gan Xun always slept facing her, her face just right buried in Gan Xun’s chest.

Gan Xun’s sleepwear had a pocket with a small embroidered pattern on it—not the work of a skilled embroiderer, the stitching was mediocre. When her face pressed against it, she could feel the roughness, which made it a bit itchy.

She scooted back a little, trying to adjust her position.

Gan Xun noticed her movement and hurriedly held her down, hugging her tightly—one hand around her waist, the other pressing the back of her head.

She froze at first, puzzled by such a fervent embrace.

Then she started to struggle. Before she could speak, Gan Xun realized she was uncomfortable and stopped holding her so tightly, loosening both hands.

Now Zhao Chiyun had room to move freely. She pulled back a bit but still pillowed on Gan Xun’s arm. She reached up and touched the embroidery on the pocket in front.

It was a small animal pattern, like a brown bear or dog. The sleepwear fabric was good quality, but the embroidery was truly awful—bumpy and uneven, no wonder it felt so uncomfortable against her face.

After being touched for a good while, Gan Xun initially allowed it, but when she didn’t stop, she finally asked, “What are you doing?”

Gan Xun’s illness might not have fully cleared up these past days—she still coughed occasionally, and her voice was a bit hoarse when she spoke now.

Zhao Chiyun asked curiously, “Why does your sleepwear have a pocket sewn here? Do you need to put something in it while sleeping?”

As she spoke, she slightly lifted her wrist and slipped her hand inside the pocket backward.

“…”

Gan Xun not only couldn’t speak but instinctively pursed her lips.

There was naturally nothing in the pocket, but beneath the fabric, amid the soft padding, a delicate pearl hid. With the disturbance, it slowly perked up.

Zhao Chiyun felt it and parted her fingers to give it a slight pinch.

Her breathing hitched a few times, suppressed in her throat. Gan Xun quickly gripped her wrist and pulled her hand out without a word.

The slender wrist bone ached from the grip, and Zhao Chiyun was displeased.

Gan Xun came to her senses in time, gently rubbing it for her a few times before kissing her forehead. She didn’t say anything and didn’t go further.

“Let’s sleep.”

Only then did Zhao Chiyun realize Gan Xun wasn’t in the mood tonight—maybe her body was uncomfortable somewhere, or perhaps her mood was off.

She wanted to ask directly but then thought maybe there was nothing wrong, just tiredness, and questioning would only disturb her.

So she said nothing. After waiting a bit and confirming Gan Xun wanted to sleep, she gently rolled over to a comfortable supine position, facing the window as she drifted off.

Before sleepiness came, Gan Xun pressed close first. She softly kissed her face and the corner of her lips, took the hand she had placed in front of her, then wandered beneath her clothes.

Such tentative, questioning kisses were accepted and returned by Zhao Chiyun, which misled her.

It made her think this pre-sleep ritual would be gentle.

Soon, Gan Xun burrowed under the covers, and darkness deepened. Acting on impulse without borrowing moonlight or lamplight beforehand, she blindly explored the narrow path by memory.

Hand and mouth worked together, inside and out attended to.

The autumn blanket was a bit thick, and she didn’t want Zhao Chiyun to catch a chill, so she sealed it tightly all around.

Soon, the sensation of oxygen deprivation blanked her mind. She wouldn’t stop there—the high frequencies and low moans in her ears blended into a single melody under her direction.

Appreciating the rhythm was delightful; after their souls resonated, she floated blissfully, unconsciously matching the pace and losing sense of force, endlessly repeating without fatigue.

Zhao Chiyun’s build was as refined as she was—exquisite and beautiful but not complicated. Gan Xun sometimes felt it was easy to enter her, just like now, effortlessly finding the spot closest to her soul.

As soon as she drew near, however, she seemed to grow guarded, as if unwilling to share, no longer cooperating and pushing while voicing refusal.

Gan Xun didn’t stop directing as she said, instead bringing the melody to its grand crescendo.

The autumn night was cool, the pale moonlight chilly, the night dew heavy, quietly settling and lifting the wind into the only noise.

Later it grew hot, no longer quiet.

From the vigorous movements, sweat beaded on her forehead and back, her fingers stained with the thick traces of their passion, her palms slick like roads after autumn rain, hard to dry for the moment.

“Let’s sleep,” Gan Xun said again once things quieted.

Zhao Chiyun waited to recover her strength and irritably nipped her neck lightly.

To express her dissatisfaction with Gan Xun, this dictatorial and insatiable conductor.

The pain from the teeth spread gradually from one point.

Soon Gan Xun felt it wasn’t quite right—the pain was off. Zhao Chiyun hadn’t bitten hard, and she herself wasn’t particularly sensitive to pain.

The degree of pain didn’t match.

So she went to the mirror to check and saw two shallow scratches beneath the bite mark.

Probably when she kissed down to the waist and abdomen, Zhao Chiyun, unable to endure, had accidentally scratched her while pushing.

The scratches were right under her ear—an awkward spot. Fortunately, the breaks in skin were shallow; concealer could cover them.

She wanted to make a fuss about it but returned to find Zhao Chiyun already sleeping deeply. The room was filled with the scent they had created.

When she saw Li Shutang again, it was a day earlier than planned.

Another chance encounter.

Zhao Chiyun had a class that evening, and Cui Can had promised to drive her home after work. Gan Xun wasn’t in a rush to go home at this hour each week, so she agreed to the team dinner after the project wrapped.

This was a company-funded meal with the boss present, at the same restaurant as last time.

Gan Xun ran into Li Shutang right upon arrival and learned this restaurant was also one of Luo Corporation’s properties. Li Shutang had the server send over some wine.

Gan Xun could tell Li Shutang didn’t have much to say to her and wasn’t trying to get close. After a few pleasantries, she planned to leave, but Li Shutang suddenly asked, “What happened to your neck?”

The scratches weren’t deep, and Gan Xun had deliberately covered them—no one else had noticed.

Perhaps in the evening light, the concealer wasn’t holding, or facing the light, Li Shutang’s eyes were sharp and spotted it.

Gan Xun didn’t change expression. “My home cat scratched me.”

“I haven’t heard Chiyun mention you have a cat at home.”

Gan Xun said, “It’s from a friend’s place.”

Silence. Li Shutang quietly scrutinized her.

Gan Xun added, trying to cover it up, “They have two.”

Li Shutang nodded. “Zi Han and Zi Xuan.”

Gan Xun smiled first, saying, “You know them too,” but in an instant felt a bit sad—Li Shutang knew more about her than she’d thought.

And the Li Shutang standing before her wasn’t enthusiastic in conversation, her expression indifferent. She didn’t treat her as a friend, let alone as her friend’s girlfriend.

Perhaps such superiors just weren’t used to befriending ordinary people.

Zhao Chiyun had a good personality… plus there was no helping it.

The moment “no helping it” crossed her mind, Gan Xun felt she wasn’t being great. She didn’t say more and left.

“See you tomorrow night,” they said to each other.

Li Shutang’s gaze silently followed her departure. Her calm expression slowly cracked, her long brows furrowing, her fingertips whitening where they gripped the back of her phone, and she took a deep breath.

She went outside to a secluded spot to light a cigarette, calming herself in the smoke. She recalled first meeting Gan Xun— she’d casually glanced and noticed the unusual color of her pupils, so she remembered the face.

Earlier, she’d wanted to negotiate, to make Gan Xun understand early that she and Chiyun were just briefly in the same world.

But the human-made scratches killed her desire to talk.

After Gan Xun left, she thought it over and still forwarded the conversation to Zhao Chiyun promptly, lest Zhao Chiyun be uninformed and their stories contradict. It was a minor thing, though not something easily explained aloud—a private matter.

Zhao Chiyun soon sent an “awkward” emoji: [So socially mortifying. How could this happen?]

Then: [Praise for you—quick thinking.]

Gan Xun found her a bit cute but couldn’t help self-mocking. She wondered if telling the truth would make Zhao Chiyun angry?

She stroked the two scars on her neck, pressing down—there was still pain, a concrete sign that Zhao Chiyun “still liked” her.

She convinced herself this way.