Chapter 34: “Then Let Go” “I Won’t!” Part 3

In that subtle back-and-forth sway, amid the faint rustle of the inner skin rubbing against the fabric, Xiang Yu’s heart pounded wildly. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. She even followed Ren Dongliu’s exposed arm right up to her chest.

The burning sensation of hot sweat dripping into her eye seemed to make her eyeball itch all over again.

Xiang Yu hurriedly pulled her gaze away, not daring to look anymore.

She felt so perverted. In that moment, she had actually wanted to take Ren Dongliu to a small park, a grove—somewhere without streetlights, anywhere, as long as it was just the two of them.

Xiang Yu wasn’t stupid. She knew what that impulse meant. No longer just innocent hugs or hand-holding, but real, tangible touching and closeness.

But she… had clearly wanted to ask her out to a movie. How had it turned into this out of nowhere?

It was just a hug…

She hugs you once, and you want to do bad things?

Xiang Yu, oh Xiang Yu… you’re morally bankrupt!

Ren Dongliu watched Xiang Yu’s bitter, grudge-holding expression and had no idea what was wrong with her.

It was just a hug, right?

Was it really that much?

She’d been happy before when Ren Dongliu hugged her…

Clearly, the two of them were thinking completely different things.

At that moment, Xiang Yu suddenly stopped, her fingers digging into the raised texture of the handlebars—

“Ren Dongliu…” she called weakly, her face red.

“What?”

“You… this Saturday… are you busy?”

“You are?”

“I… um… I want… to invite you to a movie.”

Xiang Yu’s tongue was all tied up. She had meant to say “ask you out to a movie,” but her guilty conscience—after fantasizing impure thoughts about her—made her unable to utter that “ask out.” Even without ill intentions, it felt shady.

“Saturday won’t work,” Ren Dongliu said.

Xiang Yu’s heart sank with a thud. She forced a smile, but her head kept shaking back and forth stubbornly—

“It’s fine, it’s fine, that… that movie wasn’t good anyway—”

She hadn’t even said the word “movie” when Ren Dongliu spoke again.

“How about Sunday?”

Those four light words instantly brought Xiang Yu back to life. This time, she was truly delighted.

“Sure! No problem!”

“I’ll come wait for you downstairs at your place on Sunday!”

“There are a few new movies out—they’re all really good!!”

Xiang Yu was like a chameleon; what did she care if they were good or not? Her eyes were filled with nothing but excitement.

She slapped the back seat of her bike.

“Get on. Don’t walk—it’s too tiring.”

Tiring? They’d only walked a few steps.

When Ren Dongliu sat sideways on the back seat again, listening to one joke after another tumbling out of Xiang Yu’s mouth, she finally realized what was going on. After all that… this girl wanted to ask her out to a movie?

So… what was there to agonize over?

For the first time, Ren Dongliu felt she’d miscalculated. That middle value she’d chosen… was too conservative.

(2)

On Sunday, before dawn broke, on the single bed in the bedroom, a head tilted sideways into the checkered pillow. The person who had been fast asleep the second before suddenly opened her eyes the next, as if jolted awake, thinking she’d missed some crucial moment. Her thoughts drowned in a mix of panic and tension.

It took a good while before she fully shook off that inexplicable fluster.

The sky was still dark. She grabbed her phone—6:00 a.m. sharp.

Xiang Yu draped her arm over her eyes, waited a few seconds, then removed it. She stared at the ceiling with wide eyes, but her gaze wasn’t vacant; on the contrary, it held a focused sparkle, shining brightly within her field of vision.

Her two bare arms stretched straight out on the bedsheet, her fluffy hair splayed messily across the pillow. Xiang Yu licked her lips, and the glint in her eyes spread across her face. She curved her mouth into a smile at the empty air.

9:45 a.m.

Xiang Yu tiptoed out of the bedroom, making the unprecedented effort to fold her quilt neatly.

She went into the bathroom and took a hot shower. The perfectly warm water cascaded from head to toe over her entire body, the refreshing, tingling sensation acting like a catalyst, intensifying that youthful, eager joy of first love.

She spent thirty minutes in there.

The steamy, humid air made her feel like she was stepping on clouds the moment she pushed open the bathroom door, her head a bit oxygen-deprived and dizzy.

Xiang Yu glanced at the bedroom across from her. Qin Yuan wasn’t up yet. Seeing her just roll over in bed, Xiang Yu darted into her own little room.

Now, Xiang Yu’s face was flushed, her skin damp and carrying the tender hue of a seventeen-year-old girl. She opened the wardrobe and pulled out a plain floral-print dress.

Xiang Yu rarely wore skirts. The last time had been during Chinese New Year at her grandmother’s.

She slipped the dress on quickly, but with no full-length mirror in her room, she had to go back out to the one by the TV cabinet in the living room.

Xiang Yu moved fast, flashing past Qin Yuan’s bedroom door in a blur.

When she stood in front of the mirror, her initial shy anticipation plummeted.

This dress… was way too short!

Bought last year, it shouldn’t have been an issue size-wise by date, but Xiang Yu had shot up too fast. The length was the problem.

What should have covered past her knees now barely skimmed her thighs.

Xiang Yu took two steps forward, and a chill breeze hit the backs of her thighs. She turned around, glanced in the mirror—oh god! Her butt was practically showing.

How could she wear this?

Going out like this—what would people think?

If she wore this to the movies, Ren Dongliu would definitely think she was a pervert.

Xiang Yu frowned, scratched her neck, and retreated back to her little bedroom.

The light green floral dress flashed by and vanished in a flurry.

Qin Yuan heard the bang of the bedroom door closing next door. She propped herself up and peered toward the door—what was that kid up to so early?

About ten minutes later, when Xiang Yu emerged from her room again, she’d changed back to her usual style: a long-sleeved white T-shirt, dark blue jeans, and a gray athletic jacket.

Tall and slender, honestly—this outfit suited her much better than the skirt.

Clean and comfortable, with clear, handsome features—she looked like the kind of well-behaved kid adults loved.

Qin Yuan yawned, slipped on her slippers, and got out of bed. She’d barely taken two steps into the living room when she saw Xiang Yu in front of the mirror, comb in one hand, gathering her hair with the other. The comb seemed damp; as she ran it through, her hair gleamed in the sunlight.

“Going out?”

“Huh? Oh… uh, yeah… meeting a classmate to hang out.”

“Which classmate?”

“Uh… Wei Zhi.”

Xiang Yu didn’t even realize how she stuttered when she lied.

Qin Yuan watched her for a moment but didn’t press further. She just said,

“Don’t comb your hair so sleekly. Let some strands fall loose—it’ll look more natural.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and headed into the bathroom.

Reminded by Qin Yuan, Xiang Yu immediately stopped. She checked herself in the mirror left and right… yeah, it did look too deliberate.

She barely touched her breakfast before feeling full.

Time crawled by like a crippled old snail.

Xiang Yu sat in her chair, fidgety as could be, checking her phone every few minutes.

Finally, at eleven, she sprang up from the chair—but instead of leaving right away, she dashed to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Qin Yuan eyed the mostly untouched breakfast on the table and heard the gurgling rinse from the bathroom. Xiang Yu must have poked her toothbrush down her throat; she dry-heaved twice.

“Auntie, I’m heading out.” Xiang Yu came out, tugging at her jacket.

“Have fun.”

The moment Xiang Yu stepped out the door, Qin Yuan caught a faint woody scent in the air—rock orchid mixed with sandalwood, elegant and clear.

Qin Yuan paused.

That little rascal… stole my perfume?

—

Meanwhile, Ren Dongliu had risen before dawn too, but not because Xiang Yu had asked her to the movies. It was her usual routine. The top-of-the-grade title never fell from the sky. Since she could remember, her grandmother Wen Yang had strictly scheduled her daily life.

Wen Yang had been an elementary school teacher before retiring—old-school in style, rigid in action. She nitpicked everything, big or small, always fighting for that one breath of pride. It stemmed partly from losing her husband young. Her greatest pride was raising two daughters alone and sending them both to top universities. Her deepest pain was that Ren Dongliu’s mother, Ren Beng, got pregnant in college and ended up killing someone and going to prison.

Ren Beng was born with a stunningly seductive face, breathtakingly beautiful.

Back then, people said a girl so pretty and smart was bound to lift her whole family to glory after college.

But before she even graduated, Ren Beng got into trouble.

Then they changed their tune: a girl that beautiful—what else could she be but a disaster?

Perhaps because of this, Wen Yang’s personality grew increasingly eccentric and sharp, especially toward Ren Dongliu. During the years Ren Beng was in prison, Ren Dongliu lived with Wen Yang.

Staring at Ren Dongliu’s face—a perfect replica of Ren Beng’s, down to the tiny black mole at the outer corner of her left eye—mingled with disappointment, heartache, longing, and deep-seated worry for her daughter, Wen Yang gradually grew afraid. Afraid Ren Dongliu would follow the same path, trapped by that increasingly similar beauty.

A girl with extraordinary looks but no ability to discern malice or protect herself—beauty like that became original sin.

So Wen Yang was harsh and strict with the still-young Ren Dongliu:

—You must study hard! Not just effort—give it everything!

Once Ren Dongliu developed gender awareness, Wen Yang drilled into her:

—Keep your distance from all boys, and don’t hang out with girls with bad intentions! Be self-respecting and chaste!

By fourteen, after Ren Dongliu’s first period, Wen Yang escalated:

—She not only escorted her to and from school daily but inspected her backpack. Anything unrelated to studies—even if not obviously crossing lines with boys or girls—got questioned, then torn up and thrown away without mercy.

If Ren Dongliu had been a dull child, devoid of any smarts, she might have accepted and sunk into those days.

But she was exceptionally bright; stupidity had no foothold.

Ren Dongliu knew this life was off.

She knew it stemmed from her grandmother’s terror-broken courage. The harsher Wen Yang’s attitude, the stranger her actions, the more biting her words, the more it proved her fragile heart.

To Ren Dongliu, Wen Yang wasn’t strong—she was even more pitiable. Every day cycled through twitching nerves and spasms of fear.

Ren Dongliu couldn’t call this lifestyle right or wrong; she had no right to refuse.

Even if stifling, suffocating, even knowing it was a black hole—she had to comply.

Simple reason: without her grandmother, where could she go?

She had no one to rely on, no backup.

No matter how tyrannical Wen Yang got, she still loved her.

Twisted, deformed love was still love—better than no roof over her head.

Ren Dongliu sorted the bad parts of that love to the left, the good to the right. Using her usual math trick, she took the middle value, standing neutral. Good or bad—she could accept both.