Chapter 43

Yun Chun had never liked anyone before, so she had no real concept of what “liking” even meant.

Much less being liked by someone else.

Whenever others professed their affection for her, Yun Chun’s first reaction was that they were joking. Her second was to wonder what about her could possibly be worth liking.

This feeling intensified around someone as exceptional as Lu Qingxue, amplifying Yun Chun’s deep-seated inferiority complex.

It made her feel like an ostrich, burying her head in the sand at the first sign of trouble—denying herself, unwilling to face reality.

Yet even as she denied it, she noticed that the sudden little whirlwind in her heart hadn’t died down. Instead, it was growing stronger, faintly taking on the shape of a true vortex.

Yun Chun didn’t dare look at Lu Qingxue anymore. But as she listened to Li Yimeng chatting about Lu Qingxue’s past right by her ear, her gaze drifted uncontrollably toward the sofa. Even in others’ stories, Lu Qingxue sounded so wonderful.

Her eyes swept over—and Yun Chun froze. Lu Qingxue was no longer there.

Where had she gone?

~~~

On the second floor, in the master bedroom.

Lu Qingxue stood by the door, her gaze calm as she watched the figure sitting on her bed.

When that figure’s eyes settled on her, Lu Qingxue lowered her brows. “Milady.”

Qian Shan smiled playfully. “I don’t like that title. I prefer it when you call me by name.”

Her words were met with silence.

Qian Shan gazed at Lu Qingxue and curved her lips. “What, scared now?”

Lu Qingxue raised her eyes. “No.”

Qian Shan propped her hands on the edge of the bed and leaned forward. “If you’re not scared, then why’d you run off to a foreign country?”

The question had nothing to do with the previous one.

Lu Qingxue’s expression didn’t change. “What are you talking about, Milady?”

Qian Shan swung her feet back and forth a couple of times, the bells on her ankles jingling crisply. The motion was utterly at odds with her usual persona. Yet here was this immortal officer, revered by all and overseeing every affair in the Underworld, acting so… frivolous in front of Lu Qingxue.

She had no patience for guessing games. Her red lips parted slightly. “That tall human downstairs—the one you formed a bond with, right?”

Lu Qingxue pressed her lips together in silence, though her gaze toward Qian Shan darkened subtly.

Qian Shan noticed and arched a delicate brow.

She hadn’t expected that merely mentioning the human would provoke such a reaction. It struck Qian Shan as… entertaining.

Yes, entertaining. They’d spent nearly two years together—maybe three; human time passed so quickly that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. In any case, Lu Qingxue hadn’t been by her side for long. And in that blink of an eye, this was the first time Qian Shan had seen ripples disturb the serene lake that was Lu Qingxue’s composure.

The discovery sparked her interest.

She rose from the bed and spoke slowly. “Tell me—I’ve been telling you from the start to sever your bond with her. Why haven’t you done it yet?”

Disappointment colored Qian Shan’s smile, which didn’t reach her eyes. “If I hadn’t covered for you, the Emperor would have found out ages ago.”

Something flickered in Lu Qingxue’s eyes. “Thank you.”

Qian Shan let out a cold laugh. “Thank me for what? I can’t keep covering for you forever. The Emperor will find out eventually.”

She stepped toward Lu Qingxue, the bells on her ankles chiming with every footfall—a sound that kept nearby malevolent spirits at bay. They all knew it was Qian Shan’s signature; approaching without permission meant dire consequences.

“What I mean by you being scared is that you’re afraid of the Emperor’s punishment. That’s why you fled abroad. But do you really think you’re safe here? That’s laughable. The Emperor commands every soul across the world—you can’t escape.”

Lu Qingxue replied softly, “I wasn’t trying to hide. I came here because she was working abroad.”

Qian Shan stared at her. “Even if the Emperor finds out and condemns you to Hell, dooming you to eternal torment, you still won’t sever the bond?”

Few ghosts dared stand up to Qian Shan. While Lu Qingxue wasn’t the first in thousands of years to meet her gaze directly, she was the first whose soul remained utterly still and silent, no matter what Qian Shan said or did.

That was precisely why, in their fleeting time together, Lu Qingxue had left such a deep impression on Qian Shan.

Any other ghost, knowing the horrors of that infernal prison, would have already fallen to its knees, prostrating themselves and begging tearfully for mercy.

Qian Shan, who never showed mercy, would ignore them and mete out punishment without batting an eye.

Yet with Lu Qingxue, she hadn’t only covered for her—she’d given her chance after chance to repent. Lu Qingxue, however, insisted on walking down this dead-end path. Even in the face of Qian Shan’s half-threats, half-advice, she didn’t so much as blink.

Lu Qingxue met Qian Shan’s eyes without hesitation. “No.”

Her firm response cut through the air like wind rustling bamboo leaves.

“Not afraid of death?”

“Aren’t I already dead?”

They both knew exactly what “death” signified here, yet neither spelled it out.

Qian Shan narrowed her eyes. “You disappoint me.”

Lu Qingxue replied evenly, “I’ve never made any promises to you, Milady.”

Qian Shan huffed. “You’re no fun.”

She turned her body slightly and sighed. “I thought your arrival might finally bring some amusement to my millennia of monotony. Turns out you’re just a stubborn gourd—and one that won’t last long.”

Lu Qingxue didn’t respond.

Qian Shan shifted, and as the bells chimed, something occurred to her. She moved in front of Lu Qingxue with a smile. “How about, before you head to Hell, we play something fun?”

Lu Qingxue looked at her.

No soul in the ghost realm could imagine the cold, ruthless Qian Shan ever feeling so playful.

Qian Shan’s eyes were clear and bright. “Bonding with a living person might not have been your fault—if you’d discovered it immediately and severed the tie, it wouldn’t have been an issue. But you found out and let it continue. Worse, you developed feelings for her. Now it’s a serious matter. I covered for you with the Emperor, letting you linger a bit longer, without expecting any reward, right? How about you give me something in return today?”

Her unchanging life over the past millennium had left Qian Shan bored out of her mind. At some point, she’d started seeking out amusements to stave off the tedium.

Right now, Lu Qingxue was her source of entertainment.

Qian Shan arched a brow and grinned. “Otherwise, if I get bored and decide to stir things up in the ghost realm, I might just tell the Emperor about you.”

“Threats won’t work on me,” Lu Qingxue replied softly.

“I know you’re not afraid. But… doesn’t spending one more day with her mean gaining one more day?” Qian Shan had pinpointed Lu Qingxue’s weakness and wielded it effortlessly, with no fear of refusal.

Sure enough, Lu Qingxue fell silent for a moment before asking, “What do you want to play?”

Qian Shan flashed a triumphant smile and said lightly to the ethereal Lu Qingxue, “Let’s make a bet.”

~~~

It was about the same time that she and Li Yimeng had been discussing things when Qin Xing called to say she’d come pick up Yun Chun for dinner. When asked if Li Yimeng wanted to join, she happily agreed and even acted as their guide, leading them to a delicious restaurant in the city.

After the meal, the three didn’t part ways immediately. Instead, they wandered around some local sights, enjoying themselves until evening, when they had another dinner before finally going their separate ways.

Yun Chun had planned to take a taxi back to the villa by herself. But Qin Xing was worried about her safety alone—especially after they’d had a few drinks. Though not drunk, who knew what might happen. So Qin Xing borrowed Yun Chun’s phone and called Cris to come pick her up.

Yun Chun waited nearby while Qin Xing made the call.

She thought about how nice Qin Xing was to her, always looking out for her. Did that mean Qin Xing liked her?

The answer was obviously yes.

Qin Xing liked her—as a friend.

So, if Li Yimeng said Lu Qingxue liked her, was it the same kind of thing?

Or maybe more? After all, she and Lu Qingxue weren’t just friends. They were childhood companions, designer and model…

No matter how she turned it over in her mind, though, Lu Qingxue’s affection had to be the friend variety. Yun Chun thought uncertainly. At the same time, she wondered why, when it came to Lu Qingxue, she couldn’t define their relationship with the same certainty she did with Qin Xing.

Was it because she not only liked Lu Qingxue as a friend, but admired her too? Or… those dreams.

Those dreams that went beyond mere friendship.

Why had her thoughts circled back to herself? She was supposed to be thinking about Lu Qingxue.

Lu Qingxue had told her to think whatever she wanted—boldly or cautiously. But no matter how Yun Chun thought about it, she couldn’t arrive at a definitive answer.

At first, Yun Chun had planned to just ask Lu Qingxue outright. Even if she couldn’t bring herself to meet her eyes, even if she was convinced Lu Qingxue couldn’t possibly like her that way—she still wanted to ask. All this chaotic overthinking was pointless compared to a direct question. What if Lu Qingxue didn’t feel that way at all? She’d be fretting for nothing.

But Lu Qingxue wasn’t around then, so she couldn’t ask.

Now, after an afternoon of fun, though her mind was still a whirlwind from the day’s confusion, the impulse to confront Lu Qingxue had faded. What would be the point? What if Lu Qingxue just tossed the question back at her again? Even if she didn’t say “think whatever you want” this time and outright denied it, wouldn’t Yun Chun just feel awkward? And if Lu Qingxue admitted she liked her, then what? Would they get together? Knowing Lu Qingxue liked her would still leave her feeling awkward.

So, whether Lu Qingxue liked her or not… it all felt awkward to Yun Chun.

Another question lingered—did she like Lu Qingxue?

Yun Chun couldn’t figure it out.

Just thinking about it left her feeling awkward.

On the way home, she had wondered how she would face Lu Qingxue once she got there. But when she arrived, she stood in the living room and softly called out Lu Qingxue’s name several times, only to receive no response.

The moment the echoes faded, the living room was brightly lit, yet Yun Chun felt as though she were shrouded in darkness.

The floor-to-ceiling windows seemed like transparent acrylic panels, turning her into a figurine trapped in a display case.

Yun Chun sat down in the spot where Lu Qingxue had been sitting that afternoon, staring vacantly at her own reflection in the glass.

So this was what it felt like to come home and not see Lu Qingxue? Was that how Lu Qingxue felt when she waited at home for Yun Chun and she didn’t show up?

Empty and aimless, with nothing to do but wait for the other person to appear.

As time dragged on and the person she longed to see failed to materialize, the tiny pinhole in her heart gradually widened until the wind howled through it unchecked.

Yun Chun didn’t check the time. She had no idea how long she waited for Lu Qingxue. Only when her eyelids grew heavy, drooping despite her desperate efforts to keep them open—and still no sign of Lu Qingxue—did Yun Chun slowly rise from the sofa.

She figured Lu Qingxue must have something to take care of. After all, Lu Qingxue had said it herself: aside from waiting for her, she had other things to do.

No one waits forever for anyone else. Yun Chun lingered in place for a moment longer, but with still no sign of Lu Qingxue and knowing she had to get up early the next day for styling, she washed up and returned to her room to sleep.

She turned off the living room lights but left one table lamp on. Its warm glow would keep watch for Lu Qingxue in her stead.

Once Yun Chun’s breathing had evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep, a faint figure materialized silently by her bedside.

Like the pale moon veiled by thin clouds.

Lu Qingxue gazed down at Yun Chun with lowered eyes. She raised a hand, intending to gently brush aside the stray hairs on Yun Chun’s forehead, but her fingertips halted just one centimeter from her face.

So close, within easy reach—yet she no longer dared to touch.

Lu Qingxue’s fingers stiffened in midair. They curled inward amid the soft rise and fall of Yun Chun’s chest with each breath, finally dropping to her side.

The curtains were drawn tight, not a sliver of moonlight slipping through. The room was pitch black.

But Lu Qingxue could easily make out Yun Chun’s features.

Gazing at the Little One’s serene sleeping face, Lu Qingxue’s eyes softened like gentle moonlight.

Even in sleep, she was so well-behaved.

Lu Qingxue’s lashes trembled faintly.

Spending one more day with you, staying one more day by your side—it only makes it harder for me to let go. But… what can be done?

I really want to be with you forever.