Chapter 77

Tang Lian didn’t dare let Nan Qi wait too long outside the door, lest she grow suspicious. The moment she stepped inside, she hurriedly gathered up the scattered yarn from the floor and tossed it all into the bedroom. She kicked the knitting needle into a crevice in the sofa, gave the room a quick scan to confirm nothing looked amiss, and then rushed to open the door.

She flashed a shy smile at the woman standing there. “The house was a bit messy, so I tidied up a little. Come on in.”

Nan Qi replied, “I don’t mind that sort of thing.”

“It’s still better to keep things neat,” Tang Lian insisted.

She stepped aside to let Nan Qi enter. “I’ll pour you some water.”

When Nan Qi said she wanted tea instead, Tang Lian dug out the tea leaves from the kitchen cabinet and brewed a cup for her.

Nan Qi slipped off her shoes with practiced ease and stepped inside. She glanced around casually before settling into a seat—no need for Tang Lian to play host; she’d been here too many times for that.

“Try this year’s new tea,” Tang Lian said as she brought over the steaming cup. But then her gaze froze on a particular spot, and a faint crack appeared in her composed expression.

Near the place where Nan Qi sat, a knitting needle was poking out from the sofa’s seam. It had been invisible when the cushion was empty, but now, under pressure, it had revealed itself.

Tang Lian quickly looked away and sat down beside Nan Qi, positioning her body to block the needle from view. She steered the conversation to other topics, desperately hoping Nan Qi wouldn’t notice.

Nan Qi took a sip of her tea, catching every flicker of panic on Tang Lian’s face, but she kept chatting idly all the same.

From the corner of her eye, she’d already caught a glimpse of the thing Tang Lian was trying to hide.

The needle was long and thick—unmistakably one used for knitting yarn.

So Tang Lian had spent the evening knitting at home. She’d heard that rumor too, then, and planned to confess on Christmas Eve.

That possibility neatly explained all of Tang Lian’s odd behavior. Seeing her now, furtively trying so hard to conceal everything, Nan Qi couldn’t help but entertain a few mischievous thoughts.

Tang Lian kept up the small talk under mounting pressure for a while before subtly starting to nudge Nan Qi toward heading home—better not to tempt fate with too much time.

Nan Qi played along, pretending ignorance as she clung to Tang Lian for a good long while. Finally satisfied, she headed downstairs to her own place.

For peace of mind, Tang Lian escorted her all the way to the elevator. Only after watching her reach the floor below did she return home and yank the offending needle out in annoyance.

She replayed the evening in her mind over and over. Had Nan Qi really seen it? She’d shown no reaction at all—surely that meant she hadn’t.

Besides, someone as buried in work as Nan Qi wouldn’t pay attention to online gossip. Even if she’d spotted it, she probably wouldn’t grasp the deeper meaning.

Tang Lian patted her chest, successfully talking herself into believing it.

After they parted that day, Nan Qi never received another invitation from Tang Lian. The excuses all boiled down to one core message: she was swamped lately and couldn’t spend every day and night together, but Big Sister absolutely couldn’t let some other little vixen steal her heart.

Nan Qi played along perfectly. She knew Tang Lian was preparing a gift, so after a few wistful comments, she said nothing more.

Her response was so natural that Tang Lian never once grew suspicious.

It wasn’t until Christmas Eve that Tang Lian finally invited her out, claiming it was to celebrate the holiday.

Nan Qi met her as promised. They shared a meal and polished off a bottle of red wine. Throughout dinner, Nan Qi kept wondering when Tang Lian would finally give in to impulse and confess. She barely paid attention to her food.

To her surprise, even after the meal ended, Tang Lian made no move.

Nan Qi felt a twinge of puzzlement but held her tongue.

Once the bill was settled, Tang Lian propped her chin on one hand—her skin faintly flushed from the wine—and suggested, “It’s still early. Let’s take a stroll by the river and catch the evening breeze.”

Nan Qi hesitated, eyeing Tang Lian’s outfit.

She looked stunning, but hardly dressed for the weather.

A light camel-colored trench coat paired with long boots and a short skirt, cinched at the waist to accentuate her slim figure. A stretch of pale thigh peeked out, and with nothing underneath, it was hardly ideal for the chill December winds whipping off the river.

By contrast, Nan Qi was bundled in a thick black down jacket, the fabric heavy and windproof.

Tang Lian read the disapproval in her eyes and insisted, “I’m not cold.”

Nan Qi couldn’t bring herself to refuse that earnest determination.

She would never forget that night.

The sky was clear with stars twinkling overhead. A gentle river breeze stirred Tang Lian’s soft hair and sent her skirt fluttering. Strings of lights draped along the trees beside the path shimmered like rivers of color, while fireworks bloomed spectacularly across the water.

Yet none of it compared to the enchanting flush on Tang Lian’s cheeks or the shy red glint in her eyes.

They walked halfway around the riverbank, the woman huddled in her thin coat and shivering all the while. At last, she steeled herself, pulled the scarf from the bag she’d clutched the entire way, and marched up to Nan Qi. She stood tall and resolute, like a soldier at attention.

It was a navy-blue scarf, the stitches uneven and clearly the work of a beginner, though the length was just right.

She cradled it like her very lifeline, her voice trembling as she called out seriously, “Nan Qi, I knitted this scarf for you. Now you won’t have to worry about the cold in winter.”

Nan Qi listened quietly, neither questioning nor interrupting. Her gaze rested on Tang Lian’s flushed face and trembling frame.

“I was going to make a full set—scarf, gloves, socks, the works. But I just don’t have the knack for it. This one scarf took forever. Navy blue goes with darker clothes, doesn’t show dirt, and you can wear it all the time…” Her words trailed off into the wind as she stared at Nan Qi’s cool, beautiful face. Nerves seized her up; she barely registered what she was saying.

“It’s not knit very well. If you think it’s okay, please accept it.” She was far too embarrassed to bring up the rumor.

“Also… I want to declare this formally. Nan Qi, I really like you. I know you might not be ready to jump into a relationship right away… but I have to ask seriously: will you try being with me? Will you help me build a home that’s just for us?”

The words poured out of her on a surge of liquid courage, which evaporated the instant she finished.

She bowed her head slightly, her heart pounding with anxiety.

Her fists clenched tight. Tonight would prove whether the rumor held water—whether she’d win the beauty’s heart or find it all baseless chatter.

She’d barely ducked her head when a soft sigh drifted down from above. “Ever since that movie night, you’ve spent over a month prepping for a Christmas confession. You even skipped all your entertainment to make sure you didn’t run out of time.”

“How did you know?!”

Tang Lian’s shock hit like lightning—she’d heard the rumor after all. She started to look up, only for a gentle hand to press her head back down.

Then came Nan Qi’s muffled little gasp. “Don’t look yet. Let me finish—I’m feeling shy too right now.”

“Oh.” Tang Lian caught on instantly. A bouquet of flowers bloomed wildly in her chest as she froze obediently in place.

“That day at your place, when we had tea… I saw the knitting needle.”

Tang Lian clapped her hands over her face. So it had been discovered after all.

Her self-delusion lay exposed in that moment.

With her face covered, she couldn’t see a thing, but she heard the faint rasp of a zipper. Gentle fingers pried her clenched fists apart, and then she was drawn into a warm embrace that shut out all the biting wind.

“So cold… I held back the whole way. Finally, I can hold you.” Nan Qi rested her chin atop Tang Lian’s head, nuzzling her hair tenderly.

It took two full seconds for Tang Lian to open her eyes and process what was happening.

Nan Qi had pulled her right inside that down jacket, nestling her close as if they were one. Tang Lian’s face was buried in the crook of Nan Qi’s neck, her every breath brushing that sensitive skin. It flushed a soft pink almost immediately. And just a little lower… she could feel the gentle swell of Nan Qi’s chest.

They were so close. Tang Lian felt wrapped in a tidal wave of surprise and exhilaration, her head practically steaming.

She wasn’t cold in the slightest. If anything, her temperature had spiked to over 104 degrees.

“When you get this close to me… I want to get close to you too. I might be a little clumsy at it—don’t hold it against me.” Nan Qi’s cheeks were turning red as well. She spoke softly, her gaze brimming with affection.

Tang Lian had said she wanted to create a home with her.

A home.

The word felt so warm, so profoundly moving.

Nan Qi had always seen herself as a child without a real home. She never voiced her longing for family warmth, but deep down, she craved it fiercely.

She shied away from anything too bright and blazing, fearing a mere brush with such sunlight would scorch her. Yet she envied those born basking in its glow.

Stubborn and fiercely independent, she was used to swallowing her grievances, offering others only the hard edge of her back while erecting towering walls of defense.

This was the first time anyone had ever said they wanted a home together—one that belonged to just the two of them.

Her heart stirred. She was enchanted, even daring to imagine the shape of such a life.

Perhaps this time, happiness lay truly within reach.

Nan Qi forced herself through her shyness to say it all, then lifted the hand that had covered Tang Lian’s head. She dipped her gaze ever so slightly, contemplating the woman mere inches away.

Some changes in a relationship didn’t need to be spelled out completely. They both understood it—the person standing before them now belonged to them entirely.

From that moment on, certain things could be done without restraint.

Even so, Tang Lian still wanted to confirm that this night wasn’t just some fantasy of hers.

It was her first time chasing after someone, her first confession. She needed this reassurance to banish the uncertainty that had plagued her for days.

Nan Qi was holding her too tightly for her to wriggle free. With a sweet, blissful complaint, she asked Nan Qi to loosen her grip first.

Tang Lian pulled back just a fraction from Nan Qi’s embrace, creating enough space to snatch up the scarf. Then she dove right back in, unfurling the scarf and motioning for Nan Qi to bow her head. Nan Qi obliged.

Satisfied, Tang Lian draped the scarf around Nan Qi’s neck, winding it twice before tying it off in a neat, elegant knot.

It was as good as branding Nan Qi with her mark.

Clutching the dangling end of the scarf, Tang Lian drew herself even closer.

Her voice came out husky, her smile brimming with allure and smug delight—like a sly little fox that had just drained its prey of vital essence.

“Hee hee, got you now.”

“Mm, yours,” Nan Qi replied smoothly.

Nan Qi’s fair, supple cheek was right there in front of her. Unable to resist, Tang Lian grazed it with her fingertip, brushing that velvety skin before letting her touch drift, feather-light, over Nan Qi’s glistening, plump lips.

She licked her own lips, struck by a sudden thirst.

Her pearl-white teeth caught her lower lip. In a low, sultry murmur laced with eager impatience, she asked, “Girlfriend… can I kiss you?”