Ming Li’s phone screen lit up with a notification.
It was a message from Zhu Hanxing: [Our Sister Li is as sweet as ever. Thanks for the milk tea! 🌹🌹🌹]
She sent a short reply: [It was nothing.]
Tucking her phone away, Ming Li looked up and saw Gu Qingshuang standing a short distance away. She was fidgeting with a cigarette pack, the rectangular box looking small and delicate in her grip.
Her elegant fingers turned the box over a few times before she flipped it open, pulling out a single cigarette to roll between her fingers.
From behind, her silhouette looked profoundly isolated, a perfect match for the desolate scenery surrounding them.
Unlike the bustling banquet hall, the outdoors was nearly deserted. It had been snowing all day; though the paths in the open-air garden had been cleared, the upper branches of the trees were still weighed down by a thick layer of white.
The wind howled with a biting chill, cutting across the skin like a blade. Most of the banquet guests were dressed in thin, beautiful evening wear; no one was foolish enough to venture out into the freezing cold just to suffer.
In this vast, frozen space, there was only her and Gu Qingshuang.
Gu Qingshuang stood before an artificial flower bed while Ming Li sat on a nearby bench. Since they had stepped outside, Gu Qingshuang had walked off on her own, claiming she didn’t want to be disturbed.
She had taken the cigarettes out of her clutch five minutes ago, yet she hadn’t lit one.
Ming Li knew she smoked; she would occasionally catch the scent of tobacco on her. But Gu Qingshuang wasn’t an addict. Her frequency was low, usually only lighting up in the study when the pressure of work became too much. Even then, she would always shower and spray perfume afterward.
Over the past year, Ming Li hadn’t seen her touch a cigarette. She wasn’t sure if it was because Gu Qingshuang’s emotions had stabilized or if her workload had lightened, but the habit seemed to have vanished.
If Ming Li remembered correctly, that specific pack had been bought about three months ago. It had sat in her bag, the plastic wrap unopened, until now.
About three months back, after they had finished making love, Gu Qingshuang had smoked a post-coital cigarette.
It was the first time in a long while that Ming Li had seen her smoke in the bedroom. By the time Ming Li finished her shower and stepped out, the room was hazy with the scent of tobacco. Gu Qingshuang was standing by the open window, wearing nothing but a silk wrap dress. Her chest was partially exposed to the elements, and her skin was flushed red from the cold, yet she seemed oblivious to the chill, lost in thought.
Ming Li had rushed to drape a robe over her shoulders while closing the window. She had leaned in to catch the scent on her skin, only to be hit by a cloud of smoke that sent her into a fit of coughing until her face turned red.
“I just smoked,” Gu Qingshuang had said. “Why did you get so close?”
“Why are you even smoking?” Ming Li had grumbled. “It’s bad for you. Just the smell of it makes me feel sick. Don’t do it anymore.”
Gu Qingshuang hadn’t responded for a long time. It wasn’t until they were settling into bed that she suddenly said, “Maybe I should try to quit.”
Ming Li had been drifting off to sleep then. They didn’t have the habit of cuddling after sex, so she had her back turned to Gu Qingshuang. Hearing the remark, she gave a light chuckle. “I’ve heard that people find it easier to quit sex than to quit smoking.”
She had picked up that bit of nonsense from Zhu Hanxing, who had a mouth like a runaway train.
Zhu Hanxing was a heavy smoker, a habit she’d picked up back when she first started writing music. In the early days, Ming Li would occasionally visit her room; if Hanxing had just pulled an all-nighter, the sheer concentration of nicotine in the air was enough to choke a monster.
Lately, even Hanxing had cut back, claiming that as a public figure, she needed to set a good example and that smoking was a “bad look.”
Ming Li had only meant it as a passing comment that night, but the moment the words left her mouth, she realized how much they sounded like flirting.
Gu Qingshuang had been lying beside her, her voice deep and steady. “If that’s the case, maybe I’ll just drag you into bed every time I have a craving.”
Ming Li couldn’t quite remember how she had responded, but she remembered rolling over to find Gu Qingshuang much closer than usual. As if possessed, she had reached out and pulled the woman into her arms.
Gu Qingshuang had tensed, clearly reluctant, but Ming Li had just mumbled into the pillow while pinning Gu Qingshuang’s legs down with her own. “I’m cold. Let me hold you.”
When they woke up the next morning, Gu Qingshuang was still tucked against her chest. It was one of the very few times they had actually spent the night holding each other.
Ming Li hadn’t expected Gu Qingshuang to actually go through with it. But as she sat in the biting wind now, her mind felt strangely sharp, connecting the dots. She realized only now that Gu Qingshuang really had been trying to quit for the last three months.
Yet here she was, holding the pack again.
Gu Qingshuang possessed an iron will; Ming Li never doubted her self-control. But everyone had their breaking point.
In a way, Ming Li almost wished she would just smoke the cigarette and forget everything that had happened tonight. She just wanted her to stop being so tense, to stop burying everything inside.
Gu Qingshuang held the cigarette for a moment longer, bringing it to her nose to catch the scent. A second later, she snapped the cigarette in half and tossed it into a nearby bin, followed immediately by the rest of the pack and her lighter.
Ming Li had still underestimated her.
Realizing enough time had passed, Ming Li stood up and walked over to her. “Feeling any better?” she asked softly.
Gu Qingshuang took a deep breath before turning to face her. Her eyes were devoid of warmth, cold enough to freeze someone in their tracks. Ming Li had looked into those eyes many times, yet she had never quite grown used to them.
“I’m fine.” Slowly, Gu Qingshuang’s guard dropped. The frost in her eyes thawed slightly, and her voice regained its clarity. “Let’s go back.”
Ming Li reached out her hand. “Are you cold?”
“I’m okay,” Gu Qingshuang said, taking her hand.
Ming Li felt as though she were holding a block of ice. Attempting to lighten the stiff atmosphere, she gave a playful smile. “Your hand is frozen solid and you’re saying you’re ‘okay’? My hands are warmer than yours and I’m shivering. Is this the legendary endurance of a true beauty?”
Gu Qingshuang paused, glancing at her. “You don’t think you’re a beauty?”
“I’m alright,” Ming Li teased, mimicking the other woman’s flat tone. “Just a tiny bit less stunning than you.”
As she spoke, she made a small gesture with her fingers, then suddenly framed Gu Qingshuang with her hands like a camera lens. “Gu Qingshuang.”
“What?” Gu Qingshuang asked, confused.
“Smile for me.”
Unsure of what was happening, Gu Qingshuang gave a slight tug at the corners of her mouth. The result was a grimace that looked worse than crying.
Ming Li dropped her hands and shrugged. “I just caught you looking hideous on camera. Venmo me a hundred right now or I’m posting it.”
Gu Qingshuang: “…”
Ming Li was only joking; she didn’t expect such a nonsensical quip to actually work.
However, Gu Qingshuang stopped in her tracks. After a few seconds of stunned silence, the corners of her mouth suddenly lifted. She bowed her head and began to laugh, her shoulders shaking.
Even her laughter was restrained, but it was there.
Ming Li was stunned. Seeing Gu Qingshuang actually smile was so rare that her own eyes crinkled with genuine warmth, and her laughter soon rang out louder than Gu Qingshuang’s.
After a moment, Gu Qingshuang looked up, her expression returning to its usual icy mask. “What are you laughing at?”
“I don’t know,” Ming Li replied. “I saw you laughing, so I did too. What were you laughing at?”
Gu Qingshuang chose not to answer.
As they walked back toward the banquet hall, Gu Qingshuang finally spoke. “Ming Li, you have a strange sense of humor.”
Ming Li blinked. “Is that a compliment or a jab?”
***
Regardless, Gu Qingshuang’s mood had clearly improved. In this family, a happy Gu Qingshuang meant life was easier for everyone, Ming Li included. Beyond that, Ming Li genuinely wanted her to be happy.
Inside the hall, the party was still in full swing. No one seemed to have noticed their brief disappearance.
During their absence, Gu Xueqiang had also managed to compose herself. As soon as the couple reappeared, the elder woman approached them. She ignored Gu Qingshuang entirely, speaking only to Ming Li. She informed her that they needed to go around and greet several CEOs—all heads of companies that did business with the Gu family.
Ming Li glanced at Gu Qingshuang.
Gu Qingshuang clearly loathed these networking events. She simply said, “I’ll stay here by myself. You go.”
“But you…” Ming Li started, remembering Madam Gu’s earlier insistence.
“Go together,” Gu Xueqiang said, casting a cool glance at her daughter. “You’re going to take over the family business eventually. It’s better to start building these connections now.”
“Ming Li is enough,” Gu Qingshuang replied.
Gu Qingshuang’s tone was as cold as her expression, a perfect mirror of her mother’s. There was a natural sense of indifference in her voice, as if she truly didn’t care about the family legacy. It was an attitude that immediately reignited Gu Xueqiang’s barely-suppressed temper.
“And what then?” Gu Xueqiang snapped. “Are you telling me I should just hand the entire family estate over to her?”
“Why not?” Gu Qingshuang countered.
“You think you’re going to be with her forever?” Gu Xueqiang let out a sharp, angry laugh. “Gu Qingshuang, don’t forget what’s sitting in your desk drawer.”
In that drawer sat the five-year marriage contract they had both signed.
