Chapter 69

Perhaps sensing the comfort and companionship, Nan Qi’s sobs gradually quieted. The tears that had been streaming endlessly began to slow.

Bo Ranying stroked her hair and felt a damp sweat beneath her fingers. A deep pang of heartache flashed in her eyes.

“Sleep now, sleep, my dear baby—”

She hummed softly.

Nan Qi nestled in her arms, clutching her hand with a death grip. She treated Bo Ranying like a beam of light in her desperation, refusing to let go. A ring of deep red marks bloomed around Bo Ranying’s wrist as Nan Qi drifted into a hazy sleep.

It stung a little, but Bo Ranying paid it no mind.

Suddenly, Nan Qi’s eyes fluttered open, brimming with a watery haze.

She stared straight at Bo Ranying, her gaze dazed. She clearly wasn’t fully awake yet, still lost in her dream.

Nan Qi licked her lips, feeling their dry, chapped surface. She had no idea where she was. All she knew was that the person from her dream had appeared beside her again, clearer than ever—though dressed differently, it was still the same person.

In the midst of an icy blizzard, with howling winds and snowflakes pelting down, that person had carried her block after block through the storm.

Nan Qi lunged forward, burying her face familiarly and affectionately in Bo Ranying’s chest. “Ranran~”

Bo Ranying’s heart jolted. The hand stroking Nan Qi’s hair trembled, and she couldn’t stop herself from cupping Nan Qi’s cheek, tracing the delicate skin with her fingertips.

It had been so long since she’d heard Nan Qi call her nickname with that joyful lilt.

Hearing it now made her want to cry.

Enchanted by Nan Qi’s vulnerable state, Bo Ranying’s heart pounded like thunder. She leaned down, nuzzling her cheek against Nan Qi’s.

But the instant their faces touched, a pair of hands pushed her away.

Bo Ranying turned her head and met Nan Qi’s startled expression, tinged with embarrassment.

She knew then that Nan Qi was fully awake. Swallowing her lingering regret, Bo Ranying feigned nonchalance and asked with concern, “Nightmare?”

Nan Qi murmured in agreement. Realizing she was still cradled in Bo Ranying’s arms—and that she’d thrown herself there— she pulled back smoothly, brushing stray locks from her forehead to mask her unease.

“I dreamed of Mom and Dad—”

And you… the you from years ago…

Nan Qi kept the second half locked between her teeth, unspoken.

Those words, paired with Nan Qi’s earlier tears and murmurs, let Bo Ranying piece together the nightmare easily.

She lowered her eyes, aware that Nan Qi had never truly forgotten the scars from her past. On the surface, Nan Qi seemed aloof and unapproachable—smart, beautiful, radiating a commanding presence that drew followers and commanded respect. No one would guess at her fragility.

But Bo Ranying knew better. That cool detachment was just a shell Nan Qi had built to protect herself.

She rejected overtures and kept everyone at arm’s length, preempting any pain by never letting bonds form in the first place.

Nan Qi was a stubborn, fiercely independent girl.

Bo Ranying spoke gently, careful not to touch her. “Those dreams aren’t real. Don’t put stock in them.”

“Look around at the present instead. So many people care about you, look up to you. Little Qi, you’re brilliant and utterly unique in our hearts—the brightest morning star on the horizon.”

“Really?”

Tears still clung to Nan Qi’s face, sparkling like dew on leaves in the dark night.

Bo Ranying grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and dabbed tenderly at Nan Qi’s cheeks, wiping away the droplets.

“Of course. Just look at us, for instance. To me, Little Qi has always been that shining class president amid the crowd—the person I like most.”

Bo Ranying spoke from the heart.

The feelings she’d harbored for so long, never finding the right moment to voice, spilled out now effortlessly. It felt natural, inevitable.

Yes, Nan Qi had always been her favorite person.

As a friend. As someone she yearned for.

She liked Nan Qi most of all.

The sincerity in her voice now carried a deeper weight, one Nan Qi could sense all too clearly.

But after waiting so long for this affection—and now that Bo Ranying reciprocated—Nan Qi’s heart remained still. She no longer cared what Bo Ranying felt.

Those old wounds, buried deep, had scabbed over time and again. Torn open. Healed rough.

After enough cycles, the flesh there went numb.

Healing or hurting—it all blurred into the same dull ache.

“Ranran,” Nan Qi called her the old way.

“Yeah.” A shiver raced down Bo Ranying’s spine, like the terror of being caught dozing in class by the teacher back in school.

She sensed what was coming: Nan Qi’s verdict on their bond.

“I’ve fallen out of love with you.”

Bo Ranying went rigid. For a long moment, she had no idea how to respond.

She simply stared at Nan Qi, her eyes shattered and dim.

No blow could land harder than those stark words.

Nan Qi no longer loved her. No longer liked her.

Heh.

She wanted to laugh.

But her lips wouldn’t curve.

Each syllable hammered down, cracking her organs into bloody pulp.

Nan Qi had loved her for years—and now, just like that, it was over.

She’d pulled away clean, leaving no room for hope.

Bo Ranying stood frozen for ages. Her blankness worried Nan Qi instead. “You okay?”

It was like flipping a switch, jolting Bo Ranying back.

She managed a sorrowful smile for Nan Qi, her voice faint and soft. “It’s fine. I just never saw my own heart clearly all these years. I woke up too late.”

“I’ve used up all of Little Qi’s love. It’s only natural you don’t love me anymore.”

She repeated it, proving she got it—accepting calmly that Nan Qi had moved on. Reasonable. No hysterics.

“But Little Qi… can you give me a chance to keep pursuing you? A fair shot against Tang Lian? I know she’s after you now.” Bo Ranying stared at her with dark, resolute almond eyes, unwilling to back down.

Like clutching a lifeline in the jaws of death.

“I don’t want to date right now. I just want to enjoy being single.”

“And I don’t plan to get romantic with you in the future. Please respect that, Ranran.”

She slammed the door on Bo Ranying’s hopes.

No dating Bo Ranying. Blunt and final.

That was her truth.

“I… I promise. I won’t pursue you in ways that bother or burden you.”

“But can Little Qi promise me one thing?”

Nan Qi exhaled in relief. “What?”

“I won’t ask to date. But can we be ordinary friends again—the purest kind? If you ever want to date, or start dating someone… tell me first, okay?”

Bo Ranying’s fists clenched as she waited, desperate for assent.

The seconds dragged.

Finally—

Nan Qi paused, then agreed.

They were ordinary friends now.

Nan Qi called the shots.

She held the kite string—could loosen or snap it anytime. Bo Ranying was the kite, adrift at her whim, freedom lost.

Nan Qi wasn’t rested yet. After their talk and baring their souls, exhaustion claimed her. She slept soundly.

Bo Ranying perched on the sofa’s edge, watching over her, studying her sleeping face before glancing around the dimly lit room. Thoughts swirled.

Once Nan Qi was deep in slumber, Bo Ranying decided.

She bundled Nan Qi in the blanket, slipped her arms gently under her armpits and around her waist, and carried her to her bedroom. She tucked her in snugly.

Nan Qi was tall and leggy, perfectly proportioned. A night on the sofa would leave her stiff and sore come morning.

The bed was far better.

Bo Ranying didn’t linger in the bedroom.

She returned to the living room, curled up where Nan Qi had lain, and mulled things over endlessly before drifting off in unease.

The next morning, raucous knocking yanked her awake.

Bo Ranying rose from the sofa, head spinning, feet unsteady. She ran fingers through her tousled hair and shuffled to the door.

It swung open to three bright-eyed faces, lively as a family outing—making her look faded and wilted, like a dying flower.

Zhou Ru, Nan Xi, and Tang Lian wore workout gear, cheeks rosy, foreheads sheened with sweat, eyes sparkling. They carried two breakfast bags, fresh from exercise.

When had Tang Lian gotten so chummy with Aunt Zhou?

Bo Ranying blinked in surprise, then puzzlement.

“Ranran, didn’t you sleep well?” Zhou Ru asked with concern.

She grinned warmly and handed the breakfast she was holding to Bo Ranying. “Ranran, hurry up and wash up. Call Little Qi to get out of bed for breakfast too.”

“Little Tang just took us to try some authentic beef rice noodles from a spot nearby. She even ordered steamed buns from the place next door. Pairing them with the beef broth—hey, it was my first time eating like that. So refreshing!”

Bo Ranying listened to Zhou Ru’s plans as she headed to Nan Qi’s room to wake her. All the while, she eyed the matching outfits on the three of them and asked hesitantly, “What’s all this about?”

“Oh,” Zhou Ru said, “yesterday Little Tang mentioned taking us to this top-notch badminton court. None of us brought workout clothes, and we figured it wasn’t worth the hassle. But Little Tang wouldn’t hear it. She said we’re not here in Linxi every day—we had to test the locals’ skills or it’d be a wasted trip. So she went out and bought these matching sportswear sets for us.”

Zhou Ru’s smile was utterly relaxed, and her opinion of Tang Lian rose quite a bit more.