After their wild night, the two grew ever more addicted, stirring ripples across the watery darkness time and again.
Twilight began to rise, silver moonlight spreading far.
By the time Nan Qi fetched a basin of hot water to wipe her down, Tang Lian was utterly spent, her limbs heavy and limp, her eyelids drooping with exhaustion. She had become a thoroughly drained little fox, letting Nan Qi tend to her without resistance.
Gazing at her girlfriend’s flushed cheeks, Nan Qi felt a swell of tenderness in her heart.
With gentle strokes, she cleaned away the sticky remnants, restoring Tang Lian to a fresh, comfortable state. Then she quietly poured out the water and drew her into an embrace, holding her close as they drifted off to sleep.
Tang Lian’s mind floated in a hazy limbo between waking and dreaming. She couldn’t open her eyes, but her fuzzy senses picked up on everything Nan Qi was doing. As the bedding dipped beside her and a sweet, clean scent wafted into her nose, she instinctively burrowed into Nan Qi’s arms, closed her eyes in perfect comfort, and let her thoughts fade entirely into a deep slumber.
She slept soundly through the night.
When Tang Lian woke, she instinctively stretched—but even the twitch of a single finger sent a wave of indescribable soreness surging through her limbs, tugging at her nerves. She drew in a sharp breath, and the countless scandalous moments from the night before flashed vividly through her mind.
In the heat of the moment, it hadn’t seemed like much. But now, fully awake, a wave of embarrassment crashed over her.
Ah—!!!
She screamed silently in her heart.
Nan Qi had learned those moves all on her own, deploying them one by one against her. Those usually calm eyes had gleamed with a seductive light in those moments, and just recalling that gaze made Tang Lian’s toes curl in shy delight.
The girl who once fumbled without technique, stammering under her teasing, now effortlessly controlled every switch on her body.
She had played with fire and gotten burned.
As her thoughts spun in dizzy circles, a sudden chill brushed her chest. The hand wrapped around her waist had slyly climbed back to yesterday’s snowy peak and scattered the white flakes with a knead.
“Lianlian, good morning.”
The motion of waking must have roused Nan Qi.
Her slightly husky voice sounded right by Tang Lian’s ear—different from its usual clear tone, laced now with a faint, satisfied languor.
Thinking of the reason for that change in her voice, Tang Lian’s ears burned hot.
Her body fell into that familiar throb once more. She stifled a gasp threatening to escape, brushed away Nan Qi’s restless hand, and whispered, “No more—”
Pushed aside, Nan Qi blinked in momentary confusion, her palm still open.
She recalled how Tang Lian had clung to her so tightly last night, damp hair tangling with hers, beads of sweat dripping onto her lashes, that face flushed a brilliant red…
She asked in a daze, “Does it hurt? But last night, you—”
The rest of her words were swiftly cut off.
Tang Lian shot out her index finger, pressing it to Nan Qi’s lips to silence her.
Any more of that, and she’d boil over like a kettle.
She shook her head gently, looking fragile and worn out, even that tiny motion exhausting her. Nan Qi snapped to attention at once, banishing the heated thoughts from her mind. She threw back the covers to check on Tang Lian.
The sight made her brows furrow in heartache and self-reproach.
Tang Lian’s once pristine, snowy skin was now covered in fingerprints of varying shades, like scattered red plums fallen on fresh snow.
Her knees and inner thighs were especially inflamed, a shocking patch of red.
Nan Qi drew a soft breath. She remembered they’d gone at it about four times? Five? Until the moon hung high and the stars grew lonely, and they’d changed the sheets before the storm finally broke.
Her fingertip trembled as she lightly brushed the tender skin. Nan Qi’s voice took on a quiver, almost tearful. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold back. I hurt you.”
Tang Lian had been a bit embarrassed before, her body aching like it had been run over, too drained to move. But seeing Nan Qi look so pitiful now melted her heart into syrup. She forgot her fatigue in an instant, a playful urge bubbling up.
She nodded solemnly. “All your fault.”
With a pout and a whine, she complained, “My hands hurt, my legs hurt, my arms hurt—everything hurts!”
Nan Qi lowered her eyes, offering no defense. She was responsible for her own recklessness.
Silently, tenderly, she scooped Tang Lian up and set her on the bathroom counter atop a thick towel. She positioned her carefully, bracing her shoulder against Tang Lian’s body to keep her from slipping.
She ran the water just right, squeezed toothpaste onto the brush, and handed it over, cup at the ready by her side.
She treated her like a little baby. “Okay, spit here.”
The bath, dressing, hair-combing that followed—Nan Qi handled nearly everything, caring for her with meticulous attention.
Tang Lian was pampered from start to finish.
Nan Qi fastened all but the second-to-last button at her collar, then pressed a loving kiss to her forehead. As she pulled back, her gaze flicked downward. “You’re still sore, so skip the underwear for now.”
Understanding her meaning, Tang Lian clamped her legs together in mortified embarrassment, pleading softly, “Big Sister, get me something to cover up with.”
Nan Qi stared for two seconds. Though it was rare to see her like this, she didn’t tease. She fetched a loose T-shirt, draping it over Tang Lian’s lap, then casually changed the subject. “Hungry? What do you want? I’ll go get it.”
Her thoughts diverted, Tang Lian pondered briefly and listed a few options.
Nan Qi memorized them and headed out.
Once she was gone, Tang Lian stared at the closed door for a long moment, confirming she was alone. Her fingers unconsciously gripped the edge of the T-shirt. She buried her face in the covers, breathing deeply of Nan Qi’s scent—as if she were still wrapped in her arms, pressed close.
Recalling everything that had just happened, Tang Lian happily wiggled her toes, a muffled squeal escaping into the bedding.
She was so happy!!
Just waiting like this for her girlfriend to bring back breakfast turned even a simple morning into pure bliss.
Tang Lian lost all track of time, keeping her face buried for ages—until the sound of the doorknob turning made her bolt upright, pretending the squealing hadn’t been her.
“So yummy,” Tang Lian said, eyes sparkling at the food box in Nan Qi’s hands. Hunger gnawed at her as she eagerly awaited the reveal of the feast.
She watched Nan Qi set the boxes on the table, then approach.
Tang Lian spread her arms automatically, ready to be picked up.
But Nan Qi ignored the gesture as she drew near. With a soft chuckle, she shifted the T-shirt aside. The sudden chill made Tang Lian’s muscles tense.
Surprised, Tang Lian watched her next move.
Like a magician, Nan Qi produced a tube of ointment, squeezing out clear gel onto her fingertip. She applied it gently to the bruised inner thighs and knees. “The clerk said this works best for damaged or bruised skin. It’ll ease the pain and fade the marks quickly.”
Tang Lian nodded mutely, feeling the soothing seep in.
It really was comfortable—easing the ache almost instantly.
She hadn’t expected Nan Qi to go out of her way to buy ointment just to soothe her post-love soreness.
That cool, upright woman who hadn’t even watched a yuri film was now stepping into a pharmacy, steeling herself against the embarrassment to describe symptoms and ask for advice…
An indescribable emotion rippled through Tang Lian’s heart.
It shone in her eyes as she watched Nan Qi unblinkingly—like a chick imprinting on the first face it sees after hatching, brimming with watery dependence and warmth.
Nan Qi fetched a comfortable short skirt and lifted Tang Lian’s slender yet softly fleshed calf to slip it on. With the ointment applied, the fabric wouldn’t chafe the wounds.
She naturally caught Tang Lian’s clingy stare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Those tender eyes were hard to withstand; her grip nearly slipped on the skirt.
Tang Lian blurted it out, her tone sweet and earnest. “I like you.”
“I like you so much.”
“I’m wondering if this happiness is even real.”
Nan Qi paused, then responded with feeling. “I like you too.”
“Of course it’s real. I’m certain we’re in the same 3D space-time. Don’t believe me? Reach out and touch. Or try eating the breakfast—see if it fills you up.”
Amused by her girlfriend’s whimsical question, she took Tang Lian’s hand and placed it on her cheek for verification, then carried her to the table and fed her the first bite.
Tang Lian let herself be maneuvered in a daze until the food’s aroma bloomed on her tongue, snapping her back.
A sudden question popped into her mind.
Had Nan Qi always been this good at taking care of people?
At the same moment, memories of their first meeting flickered by.
In the rainy night, the woman in her business suit had cut through the chill, striding purposefully to the bar booth. She went straight for the drunken, disoriented Bo Ranying. When Bo Ranying stumbled into her arms, she pulled her upright without so much as a glance at anyone else.
Back then, amid the endless clamor, Nan Qi’s eyes had only been on Bo Ranying. She was the one staging a one-sided drama of love at first sight right by her side.
Tang Lian had been right behind them, watching clearly as Nan Qi held Bo Ranying tightly in her arms through the pouring rain, shielding her from even the slightest breath of wind or drop of water.
They had even lived together for several years.
Between them stretched such a long stretch of youth—a time Tang Lian had never been part of.
She couldn’t understand why. This should have been a moment of pure happiness, smack in the middle of the passionate early days when she and Nan Qi had confessed their feelings for each other. And yet, at the most inopportune time, insecurity had welled up inside her.
It was like a glass of lime sparkling water knocked over, spilling across the floor as the frantic bubbles fizzled out into a flat, lifeless puddle.
Being with Nan Qi used to fill her with endless sweetness and joy. Now, that feeling was gone. Her chest felt heavy, stuffed with a stifled breath she couldn’t release.
She hadn’t even realized what she was saying.
It wasn’t until Nan Qi let out a bewildered “Ah?” that Tang Lian finally heard her own words clearly.
“You’re so good at taking care of people… Is it all because of Miss Bo?”
The words came out sharp and laced with jealousy, like a piece of orange peel left out to dry for far too long—sour and bitter to the core. They didn’t even sound like her.
She had always been carefree. In her previous two relationships, she’d never felt this anxious or clingy.
But after meeting Nan Qi, all her rationality had crumbled. She turned pessimistic, haunted by worries about Nan Qi’s past.
She knew her emotions were out of line, but she couldn’t rein them in. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Embarrassed, she bowed her head and covered them with her hand, desperate to hide her breakdown from Nan Qi.
