Chapter 10

After Song Yingqiu so considerately tucked a blanket over her, Shao Yu had expected to lie awake all night. Instead, she slept clean through, without a single dream.

Clinic duty began tomorrow. Today was her last free day.

With work looming, Shao Yu indulged in a rare stretch of laziness, lying in bed and scrolling through her phone.

In the department group chat, Yi Ya was chatting with another doctor.

“I caught a cold QAQ low-grade fever”

“Big temperature swings lately. Careful, or you’ll be first in line at your own clinic”

“Uuu, last night I fell asleep playing on my phone without a blanket”

Shao Yu caught the two keywords “bed” and “blanket,” and last night’s scene surged straight back.

Shao Yu: …

So that was what people meant by “dead memories suddenly attacking.”

She wished it had never happened, wished she could wipe it spotless from her mind, but the harder she tried to forget, the sharper the picture grew.

She could even reconstruct Song Yingqiu’s expression and movements from that moment, pure concern down to the last detail, without a shred of stray thought, which somehow made it all the more…

Shao Yu rolled restlessly out of bed.

Making my own thoughts filthy. Delusional, reading into nothing.

She splashed her face, water beading on her lashes, and looked at her blurred reflection in the mirror.

A face many had praised. A face Song Yingqiu said she liked, too.

But no matter how many times Song Yingqiu said it, she would never love her the way one loves a woman.

The words rose unbidden from the bottom of her heart, sticking in her throat like a bone, tangling like a knotted ball of thread, sourness and bitterness seeping out without end.

She let the dejection linger for one cruel, self-indulgent moment, then forced her mind onto practical things.

She would go buy some new-season clothes. That was all.

So she thought, until she had a visitor.

Shao Yu looked at Wu Rui before her, eyelids drooping with indifference, listening carefully to Song Yingqiu on the phone.

“We’re moving. I’ve already told Wu Rui; the people he brought will handle the packing. Just take my car over… What is this line? Get the head of marketing in here to see me.”

Song Yingqiu’s voice was rushed; by the end, she no longer had the leisure for instructions.

Shao Yu listened quietly for a while, then said, “Understood.”

She hung up, and Wu Rui took his cue.

“The new place was cleared out quite quickly. President Song originally planned to oversee the move with you in person today, but something urgent came up…”

Shao Yu listened without much interest, gave an “mm,” then cut in.

“Why are we moving?”

Wu Rui smiled. “President Song didn’t mention it?”

Shao Yu: “You tell me.”

“The new place was found on President Song’s personal orders. She viewed it herself and said you were sure to like it too… Shall I have my people start moving boxes?”

Wu Rui’s moving crew was already carrying boxes into the room.

The professional organizers were all women, neat and capable.

“Which is the master bedroom?”

Shao Yu gathered herself. The thought of these people handling Song Yingqiu’s clothes stirred a quiet aversion, and she said evenly, “You needn’t touch the bedrooms. I’ll manage those myself.”

At that, Wu Rui hesitated.

To her subordinates, Song Yingqiu was a strict, forceful superior, and he couldn’t tell whether he should be seeking her approval.

At bottom, he simply couldn’t judge the relationship between this cold beauty, for whom his boss had changed residences, and Song Yingqiu herself.

Shao Yu read some of it off his face. “I’ll confirm with Song Yingqiu.”

She dialed Song Yingqiu again and switched on the speaker.

Seeing Shao Yu’s composure, Wu Rui realized his misstep and said hurriedly, “No need, no need, go right ahead. Besides, President Song should be in an emergency meeting right now, she can’t be rea—”

Beep. The call connected.

Con. Nect. Ed.

Wu Rui’s scalp went numb on the spot. He was finished.

When President Song was busy, forget pretty faces; even her own father got routed through the assistant.

If President Song would pick up mid-emergency-meeting for Shao Yu, then forget touching her belongings. Shao Yu could have burned this whole building down and President Song probably wouldn’t have blinked.

On the other end, Song Yingqiu was quiet, her tone even. “What is it?”

Shao Yu: “I forgot to ask. I’ll be organizing your luggage and room myself, all right?”

Song Yingqiu laughed. “You’re asking me about that? I’m busy.”

There wasn’t a grain of reproach in it for Shao Yu’s presumption, only easy, intimate fondness.

Wu Rui nearly broke out in a full-body cold sweat listening. Sure enough, Song Yingqiu’s next line came, cold and clipped.

“Wu Rui follows your instructions. He has no sense of proportion. You decide.”

Shao Yu glanced at Wu Rui. “He’s more thorough about these things. Fine, back to work for you; I’ll get to mine.”

She hung up and looked at Wu Rui. “It’s settled.”

Wu Rui wouldn’t have dared object. Anyone with the nerve to hang up on his boss had earned his ten-thousand-fold respect. “Whatever you say. Whatever you say.”

In the conference room at Danchuan headquarters, Song Yingqiu set her phone face-down at her hand and swept her gaze over the breath-holding room of subordinates.

The slight slackness the call had brought pulled tight into ice once more.

“Continue,” she said coldly.

Shao Yu had only just moved to Lingguan, with two suitcases and little else, so moving now was easy. She snapped the cases shut and was ready to go.

The organizers had brought plenty of storage bags. Shao Yu took a few and entered Song Yingqiu’s bedroom.

These past days, Song Yingqiu had always been the one to seek her out. Shao Yu had never once set foot in this room.

Even knowing every inch of it through the body swaps, walking in now in person felt like stepping onto forbidden ground; her very steps lightened.

Just as now, as she sorted Song Yingqiu’s clothes with her own hands.

Lifting each piece, the light fabrics of spring and summer sliding across her fingertips, Shao Yu’s mind conjured how they would look against Song Yingqiu’s body.

Only that morning she had told herself that her feelings for Song Yingqiu were improper.

Yet merely touching her clothes, heat crept up her ears beyond her control, the guilt of a trespasser in her sister’s sanctum breeding quietly in the dark, and Shao Yu dared not think further.

Many things already existed in duplicate at the other place, and the furniture needn’t move at all. In short order the packing was done, and Shao Yu drove to the new address.

When she arrived at the new complex and stepped out of the car amid the sound of Wu Rui directing the luggage, her expression froze, just slightly.

Song Yingqiu worked straight through to evening; if her assistant hadn’t reminded her, she would nearly have forgotten the dinner.

By the time she arrived, everyone else was there, Shao Yu included.

She was barely forty minutes late, yet it felt like missing an entire century.

Shao Yu was as cool and quiet as ever, no lover of small talk, yet seen from afar, sitting in the middle of the crowd, the atmosphere fit her perfectly. No one would have taken her for an outsider; it was as if they had all been friends to begin with.

Then again, that had something to do with people’s habit of clustering around her to chat. Like bees around a flower. Buzzing.

The loudest buzz belonged to Zong Qiang. “I’ve got an apartment right next to the Provincial Hospital, brand-new building. Doctor Shao, just take it. What does it even mean, you living at Sister Yingqiu’s place? Isn’t that awkward for everyone?”

Song Yingqiu’s voice drifted over coolly from behind her. “Awkward how, exactly?”

Zong Qiang, without thinking, “Anyone hoping to get swept off her feet by Sister Yingqiu, and anyone hoping to sweep Doctor Shao off hers! Awkward for all of us!”

“Oh? And who’s hoping to sweep Doctor Shao off her feet?”

Zong Qiang’s finger swung instantly toward herself, then, perhaps regaining her senses mid-swing, or catching the knowing smirks around the table, she swayed woozily backward, her finger swept through empty air and landed squarely on Song Yingqiu behind her.

Song Yingqiu scoffed and pointed at herself too. “You mean me?”

Zong Qiang shook her head violently, grinning. “No no, I would never suggest that you, Sister, are robbing the very vault you’re guarding.”

Song Yingqiu laughed again and, swaying past her, sat down at Shao Yu’s side, half-leaning, her shoulder pressing against Shao Yu’s.

She had meant to ride the moment with a joke, then remembered Shao Yu disliked her loose, flirtatious air. So she straightened up, put a proper distance between them, and said with uncharacteristic gravity, “No more jokes like that.”

Song Yingqiu’s expression was serious now, and the juniors who normally teased her fell obediently in line, Zong Qiang included, quiet as a mouse.

Satisfied, Song Yingqiu poured herself a drink, then turned and, unexpectedly, met Shao Yu’s gaze head-on.

“Hm?”

What was Shao Yu looking at? And for how long?

Puzzled, Song Yingqiu’s eyes carried the question.

But Shao Yu said nothing, looked away, and struck up a conversation with someone else, apparently perfectly at ease.

The whole point of tonight was for Shao Yu to get acquainted with these friends of hers. Shao Yu was the star of the evening; by comparison, Song Yingqiu, the host, found herself oddly left out, relegated for once to the supporting cast.

In the latter half of the night, Zong Qiang came over to chat.

When she settled down, Zong Qiang could manage a serious sentence or two. “I keep feeling like Shao Yu knows us all really well. It’s the strangest feeling.”

Song Yingqiu, absent-minded: “How so?”

“Like when we were pouring drinks. I watched; everything she handed out was exactly what each of us likes… Oh, and at dinner she warned me there was minced ginger in the dish. How did she know I don’t eat ginger?”

Zong Qiang was careless in manner but sharp in observation, and every one of Shao Yu’s unconscious little habits had registered. Song Yingqiu went on alert inside while keeping her face perfectly smooth.

“Coincidence, probably?”

Zong Qiang’s sharpness wasn’t done. “And she gives off this vibe that’s so much like you. Your faces and figures couldn’t be more different, but sometimes when I glance over, it’s like seeing you, Sister.”

“I have a bold theory.”

Song Yingqiu’s voice tightened a fraction. “If it’s too far-fetched, don’t say it. It’s impossible.”

Something along the lines of suspecting their souls swapped bodies.

Zong Qiang leaned in, her voice dropping to a thief arranging a meet in an alley.

“Sister. Did you two date before? They say lovers grow to look alike. And you must have told her all sorts of things about us, that’s how she knows us, right?”

“…”

She’d sooner have guessed the body swap. What even was this logic.

Song Yingqiu jabbed a finger hard into her forehead.

“Even if Shao Yu and I had dated, I still wouldn’t have mentioned you little gremlins to her.”

Zong Qiang wailed, clutching her forehead, and was just winding up to protest and present further evidence when she looked past Song Yingqiu’s shoulder and spotted the other star of the evening.

“Doctor Shao?”

Hm?

Song Yingqiu turned, and there indeed stood Shao Yu.

Shao Yu didn’t know when she had arrived, but something about her bearing made it feel as though she had been there for a long while, upright and lovely.

Zong Qiang’s eyes darted between the two of them, then, with a sly roll, she slipped away.

Song Yingqiu suspected she hadn’t abandoned her ridiculous theory.

She looked at Shao Yu. “You heard all that? Zong Qiang’s observant, I’ll give her that… Don’t take some of it to heart.”

Shao Yu gave a soft “mm.” “I know.”

She knew that Song Yingqiu harbored not one thread of ambiguity toward her, that Song Yingqiu, afraid she might read into things, had trimmed away even the most innocent closeness.

There was a time she would drape herself over Song Yingqiu’s shoulder, laughing; now their shoulders never even touched.

But what could she possibly blame Song Yingqiu for?

Shao Yu came to stand beside her, and together they watched the night view beyond the glass.

The spring wind was gentle, but not without its bite. Tonight, each of them knew her own warmth and cold alone.

Shao Yu turned her head toward Song Yingqiu and asked, “Was the new home chosen for me?”

Song Yingqiu smiled, honeyed warmth wrapping her red lips. “Who else would it be for? You know I hate moving…”

With evident relish, she reached out and began drawing in the air.

Her slender fingertip touched down at the far left.

“This is home.”

Then a little toward the middle.

“This is the hospital.”

Finally her finger stopped, light and deft, at the far right.

“This is my company.”

“Once we move in, I’ll drop you at the hospital first, then head to my office. You’re pressed for time… And if I’m away on business, or you’re on rotation and we can’t leave together, it’ll be quicker for you on your own. If you don’t feel like driving, take the metro. Two stops. Faster than a car, really.”

As she said it, Song Yingqiu’s smile was brimming, not the thousand practiced poses of a flirt, but a tenderness rising straight from the marrow.

Following her gaze into the empty air, Shao Yu saw not the night, not the darkness, but the two of them leaving together, coming home together, spending every ordinary, happy day and night side by side.