Chapter 66

Bo Ranying tried several times to force herself to finish the meal calmly, but she simply couldn’t. She was unable to stay in that environment any longer.

She struggled to make her expression look natural.

Standing up, she found an excuse. “I… I’m full. I’m going out for a stroll.”

With that, she hurried away from the table without a clear path, her head lowered, her gaze never lingering on anyone.

Zhou Ru’s surprised call lingered behind her. “You’re not eating anymore? Ranran, you didn’t even finish a bowl of rice!”

Her only response was the resounding slam of the front door, sending faint ripples through the air.

Bo Ranying’s farewell had been abrupt and rushed.

The harmony at the table shattered, casting a faint shadow over everyone’s mood.

Zhou Ru felt a pang of concern. She exchanged a glance with Nan Xi before turning to Nan Qi. “Ranran doesn’t seem too happy today. Quick, give her a call. It’s her first time here, and she’s not familiar with the area. Where could she possibly wander off to alone?”

Nan Qi pulled up Bo Ranying’s number and dialed.

In truth, Bo Ranying had no idea where to go. After leaving Nan Qi’s home, she wandered aimlessly through the neighborhood, bumping around like a headless chicken.

Her heart ached with bitterness and frustration, trapping her emotions like a cage with no outlet.

The salty, metallic taste of blood still lingered in her mouth, making her deeply uncomfortable.

Night had deepened, the darkness cloaking the neighborhood’s greenery. The temperature had dropped, and most people chose the warmth of their homes. Few were out wandering like her.

Bo Ranying paid no attention to directions. At each fork in the path, she picked one at random and kept going.

As she walked and paused, her eyes caught a sign hanging from a tree trunk.

The sign indicated that the residential building in F District featured a garden penthouse, open for viewing.

She followed the directions on the sign and arrived to find it was none other than the building where Nan Qi lived. To reach the garden, however, she needed to take the elevator from the other side.

She rode that elevator up to the garden.

During this time, Nan Qi called her. Bo Ranying stared at the screen in silence for a moment before hanging up.

At least for now, she didn’t want to hear Nan Qi’s voice. She feared that the moment she did, she wouldn’t be able to hold back her tears.

Lately, it had become painfully clear to her: Nan Qi no longer cared for her the way she once had, no longer indulged her. Her attempts at acting cute had lost their effect.

She also dreaded that this call wasn’t even from Nan Qi’s heart—that it was just Aunt Zhou’s instruction.

Too many uncertainties made her afraid to take the gamble.

For this moment, she just wanted to be alone.

She sent Nan Qi a text saying she was fine, just out for some air, and would be back soon. No need to worry—everything was normal.

After sending the message, Bo Ranying turned on airplane mode and ignored her phone completely.

She turned her gaze to the scenery before her. A vast sea of flowers stretched out, each bloom vying to release its fragrance and display its splendor. The vibrant scene brimmed with life, stunning Bo Ranying into speechless awe. She was utterly captivated by nature’s display.

Though few flowers were blooming in this season—most had withered, their roots wrapped in insulating fabric by the gardeners and transplanted to sheltered corners, awaiting next spring’s revival—the remaining ones flourished. Osmanthus perfumed the air for miles, chrysanthemums gleamed plump and vivid, fiery orange nasturtiums burst forth in profusion, climbing a wall in a blaze of brilliance that dazzled the eyes. They competed fiercely, none yielding to the others, determined to paint their mark on the deep autumn canvas before winter’s arrival.

Witnessing this riot of color and life, Bo Ranying cast aside her worries. Her heart opened up, renewed by the infectious vitality. Her lost confidence returned.

The troubles she saw as insurmountable would pass one day, she realized.

She shouldn’t dwell in momentary setbacks.

She needed to make a change.

Bo Ranying wandered through the garden, careful not to brush against the delicate petals. She immersed herself in admiring each flower’s beauty, absorbing its vibrant energy and transforming it into her own upward momentum.

As she admired the blooms, a familiar buzzing sound hummed nearby.

She tilted her head to listen—it was the whir of insect wings.

Amazed, she hadn’t expected such hardy creatures to be active on this chilly early winter night.

Holding her breath, she watched as a tiny black silhouette danced into view, hovering in the air.

A mosquito.

Its presence felt like a miracle in the winter chill.

Bo Ranying watched in wonder, tracking its path. The buzzing circled her several times, drawn perhaps to her warm body heat. Finally, it fluttered down onto the exposed back of her finger.

The mosquito rubbed its legs together before deftly piercing her skin with its proboscis, drawing the warm blood in a hearty meal amid the cold autumn night.

Bo Ranying didn’t flinch. She held still until the mosquito had its fill and departed.

In this serene haven, she thought, the mosquito and she were companions of a sort.

The bitten finger tingled faintly but showed no other reaction in the cold air.

Fine rain began to drift from the sky, crystal droplets glistening on plump stamens and petals, making them all the more beautiful.

Bo Ranying reached out and gently pinched a hibiscus petal. The pale pink bloom shimmered with water, trembling droplets adorning it—utterly charming.

Gradually, the rain intensified. Gazing at the darkening sky, Bo Ranying turned and left the garden penthouse.

Nan Qi opened the door to find a drenched girl, water streaming from her clothes, looking like a drowned rat. In her hands was a lush bouquet of baby’s breath, blooming brilliantly.

The flowers had been well-protected, untouched by the rain—still pristine and dry.

Nan Qi jumped at Bo Ranying’s sodden appearance, baffled at how a simple outing had left her like this.

She quickly grabbed a dry bath towel and wrapped Bo Ranying up, soaking up the water from her body.

As the towel enveloped her head, Bo Ranying hurriedly raised her hands, thrusting the bouquet toward Nan Qi. “Hey—the flowers! Don’t rub the flowers!”

Nan Qi took the bouquet with a speechless eye-roll and set it on a nearby cabinet.

She turned on the air conditioning and urged Bo Ranying inside.

Bo Ranying complied, shuffling in with small steps. She closed the door behind her, her body shivering uncontrollably. The AC hadn’t kicked in yet, but her face showed relief.

Nan Qi fetched a pair of her own flip-flops for Bo Ranying to change into.

Bo Ranying peeled off her sopping shoes and socks. Her toes were slightly pruned and pale as she slipped her feet into the flip-flops, which squeaked with every step.

The sound echoed distinctly in the quiet house, the only backdrop noise.

Huh?

Bo Ranying craned her neck, scanning the room. No one else was there.

The earlier clamor had vanished, leaving the place peaceful once more.

“Where’s Aunt Zhou and the others?”

“Mom and Nan Xi went back to the hotel. They’d traveled all day and were pretty tired.”

“Mm, good call to head back early for rest. What about… Tang Lian?”

“She went home, of course. We played some games together, and then she left.”

Fatigue was real, but so was the desire to escape the awkwardness.

After Bo Ranying’s hasty departure from the table, the cheerful atmosphere had crumbled. Zhou Ru, worried about her, couldn’t return to her relaxed chat with Tang Lian. They wrapped up the meal quickly, and the impromptu gathering ended.

After dinner, Nan Qi and Tang Lian had walked Zhou Ru and Nan Xi back to their hotel. Then Nan Qi escorted Tang Lian upstairs before heading home herself.

By the time she arrived, the downpour had started, so she assumed Bo Ranying had driven straight back.

She never imagined Bo Ranying hadn’t left.

With all her questions answered—knowing only she and Nan Qi were home now—Bo Ranying felt a secret thrill.

Absentmindedly, she dawdled while drying off. Water dripped steadily from her clothes, pooling in a wet ring on the floor.

Nan Qi watched, annoyed at her slowness and her inability to take care of herself. She set aside questions about why Bo Ranying had returned for now.

Snatching the towel from Bo Ranying’s hands, Nan Qi wrapped it around her head first, rubbing vigorously to dry the dripping strands of long hair. Then she pulled the towel down, swaddling Bo Ranying from all sides and tying it securely at her waist.

Throughout, Bo Ranying was the picture of obedience—like a good baby—neither struggling nor fussing, letting Nan Qi tend to her without protest.

She particularly missed the disdain and sternness that Nan Qi naturally directed at her.

Nan Qi only showed her true emotions to people she had let into her inner circle.

Though Nan Qi’s movements in that moment were rough—not gentle in the slightest—Bo Ranying still missed it with an aching longing. Her eyes welled up, half-hidden by the veil of rain before her feelings could fully spill over.

She was still asking about that bouquet of baby’s breath that Nan Qi had barely even glanced at.

“Do you like the flowers?”

“What flowers?” Nan Qi finished tying a knot she was quite pleased with, then grabbed the kettle and headed to the kitchen to fill it with water and set it to heat. Bo Ranying’s question went in one ear and out the other; she hadn’t paid it any mind at all.

“The ones you took from me when I got here. The flowers I gave you.”

Bo Ranying brushed the wet strands from her forehead, revealing a pale, delicate oval face. Her damp black eyes brimmed with anticipation. When she’d picked out the flowers at the shop, all she’d been able to think about was Nan Qi.

She believed that if Nan Qi were a color, it would have to be blue.

Fresh and cool-toned, elegantly understated yet dreamy and beautiful—like pure, crystal-clear lake water, or a sparkling spring in the heat of summer. Or perhaps like a small asteroid in the vast universe, undiscovered and unnamed, profound and mysterious, drawing the heart inexorably toward it.

Nan Qi was like a flower suddenly yanked from behind a shadowed crescent hedge.

Bo Ranying had given her a bouquet of blue baby’s breath, desperately hoping for her approval.

“Ah, I didn’t really look.”

Why had she suddenly decided to give her flowers?

Nan Qi’s offhand remark shattered all of Bo Ranying’s eager hopes in an instant.

Bo Ranying pressed her lips together, her gaze dimming as she fell silent.

In the midst of toweling her off, Nan Qi tugged a black waterproof bag from Bo Ranying’s arms and tossed it casually onto the coffee table. Something soft was inside, though she had no idea what.

She walked over and shooed Bo Ranying toward the bathroom. “Go take a shower. Don’t catch a cold.”

Then she turned to rummage for a set of clothes Bo Ranying could borrow.

“No fluffy hooded pajamas—how about a shirt and long pants?” Nan Qi opened her closet and began selecting.

“No need to look…”

Bo Ranying clutched the black waterproof bag and leaned against the doorframe of Nan Qi’s bedroom, her cheeks faintly flushed. “I brought my own clothes. Back in the car, I spotted a change of clothes that would be easy to swap into, so I grabbed them—”

She wasn’t much of a liar. Every time she spun a fib, her blinking sped up, her voice grew airy, and her fingers clenched into tight fists. Every telltale sign of guilt was written plain across her.

Nan Qi paused mid-reach into the closet and gave Bo Ranying a long, meaningful look, her eyes lingering pointedly on the waterproof bag. She said nothing for a long moment, and the silence made Bo Ranying’s skin prickle, her guilt intensifying.

“So you came prepared, huh.”

Nan Qi hadn’t realized Bo Ranying had learned to play these little games.

“No, it was just a coincidence.”

Too embarrassed to linger, Bo Ranying turned and fled into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her to escape reality.

She rubbed her cheeks for a moment.

Bo Ranying stripped off her thoroughly soaked clothes and dropped them into the laundry hamper nearby. She shook the water from the waterproof bag, unzipped it, and carefully withdrew a sleek, soft black sleep dress.

She grasped it by the collar on both sides, shook it out, and held it up in front of the mirror.

It was a black lace spaghetti-strap nightgown with a daring high slit—something she’d impulsively ordered online after endlessly scrolling through Tang Lian’s Moments these past few days.

She had never worn anything like it before.

Once it arrived, she’d washed it, confirmed the size would fit, and immediately stuffed it into the deepest recesses of her closet, too afraid to even glance at it again.

But today, after Zhou Ru arrived, Bo Ranying had volunteered to drive them all to Nan Qi’s place. While the others were packing their bags, she’d slipped back to her room, dug the dress from its hiding spot, and given in to an inexplicable surge of impulse she couldn’t quite explain to herself.

She’d found a black, light-blocking waterproof bag especially for it, and brought the long-sealed sleep dress along in the car.

This time, she mustered her courage and faced her reflection in the mirror.

One second. Two seconds.

Her face flushed crimson, like a blooming peach blossom.

It wasn’t just her face—her whole body felt like it was cooking.

The nightgown exposed far too much skin… and it was so very sexy. For the first time, she realized she could pull off something this bold.

Bo Ranying let out a silent scream. She couldn’t bear to look any longer.

She hung the dress on a hanger and focused on her shower instead.

Afterward, it took her ages of mental preparation—fighting back waves of shyness—before she slipped into the nightgown and pushed open the bathroom door.

She’d taken quite a while.

The cool water Nan Qi had boiled earlier had cooled too much, so she’d lifted the lid to let it air out a bit more. But with Bo Ranying still not emerging, Nan Qi readjusted the temperature to fifty degrees and set it to keep warm.

The sound of the door finally opening made her pour a cup of hot water right away. She mixed in a packet of cold medicine, prepared the remedy, and went to meet Bo Ranying.

But as she neared the bathroom, there was no sign of her.

Puzzled, Nan Qi carried the medicine as she searched the space, eventually pacing to the door of her own bedroom.

The door stood slightly ajar. She nudged it open gently to find the main light switched off, leaving only the dim yellow glow of the bedside lamp. A lump stirred beneath the covers.

Nan Qi’s brows furrowed.

She strode over quickly and set the cup on the nightstand.

As she reached to pull back the edge of the quilt, she said, “Drink this cold medicine quick. Just as a precaution—don’t catch a chill and mess up your work…”

Her words cut off abruptly.

The girl offered no resistance, letting Nan Qi lift the covers without a fight.

But the sight beneath them was something Nan Qi had never dared imagine.

Her pupils contracted sharply, and she froze in place.

No words could capture the scene before her.

The young woman lay on her side atop the gray sheets, clad in a black spaghetti-strap dress. Her legs—smooth and jade-like—were bent at the knee, and the high-slit hem had ridden up with her movements, folding back to reveal a glimpse of pink strawberry-print shorts that contrasted strikingly with the gown.

Her long, seaweed-like hair spilled across the pillows like the petals of a massive bloom, draping delicately over her slender shoulders. In the warmth of the quilt, the girl’s cheeks glowed with a hazy flush, her expression shy yet inviting. Her exposed skin gleamed with a soft luster, her modestly perky breasts accentuated by the black lace—cute, yet laced with an unexpected allure.

She was like a premium peach-flavored milk candy, sweet enough to burst with juice at the first bite.

Nan Qi had held Bo Ranying before, had wrapped an arm around her waist. She knew well how supple and lithe a dancer’s body could be—irresistibly so, the kind you hated to let go.

Bo Ranying’s clear, dark eyes shimmered with a misty sheen as she blinked up at her.

The girl patted the bedsheet beside her, her smile pure and innocent. “Little Qi, your bed is so soft.”

Nan Qi stared in silence, her brows knitting tightly together. Veins bulged along her arms, dark clouds of anger gathering on her face as an unnamed fury blazed within her. The look she turned on Bo Ranying grew colder than ice.

What was the meaning of this? Was Bo Ranying just trying to toy with her?

Nan Qi’s heart ached with rage.

She suspected that if she had a heart condition, this would be the moment she’d drop dead.

Not here, enduring this raw pang of pain.

At last, she tore her gaze away and demanded to know why Bo Ranying had come into her room.

Bo Ranying could sense her anger, but she’d seen it clearly enough at first—the flicker of shock and admiration in Nan Qi’s eyes. How had her mood shifted so quickly?

She’d chosen this specifically to Nan Qi’s tastes, after all.

Summoning her sweetest dimples, Bo Ranying resolved to press on and thaw the heavy atmosphere.

“It’s too cold out there, so I came over.”

“I turned on the air conditioning.”

Nan Qi’s patience snapped. She spun to the closet, yanked out a full set of long-sleeved shirt and pants, and flung them onto the bed without so much as glancing at Bo Ranying. “Right now, change out of that outfit. Get off my bed. Then I’ll drive you home.”

“But it’s pouring so hard outside,” Bo Ranying murmured, clutching the clothes Nan Qi had tossed her. Her voice grew softer and softer under that stormy glare until it faded away entirely.

She didn’t want to go home.

She’d finally made it to Nan Qi’s place.

And now she’d gone and ruined everything.

Nan Qi ignored her little protests outright.

She marched out and shut the door behind her.

“Don’t make me say it twice. Ten minutes. Get changed.”