Yun Chun stirred on the bed, as if sensing something. She let out a soft whimper, her brows knitting together.
Seeing this, Lu Qingxue finally couldn’t hold back any longer. The hand hanging limp at her side lifted once more, slowly reaching toward Yun Chun.
As she did, the conversation she’d had with Qian Shan earlier that day flashed through her mind.
Qian Shan had proposed a bet. Lu Qingxue paused before asking, “What kind?”
At Lu Qingxue’s question, the amusement in Qian Shan’s eyes grew denser. She pointed at the floor below. “Whether that human downstairs likes you or not.”
Her words made Lu Qingxue hold her breath for an instant.
Her index finger at her side twitched uncontrollably twice.
If they were betting on that, wouldn’t she be guaranteed to lose?
But there was no helping it—the words had been spoken, and they couldn’t be taken back. Especially since this bet was with Qian Shan.
“Qian Shan.” Lu Qingxue’s voice came out low and hoarse.
“I’m not going to gamble with her.”
Qian Shan’s eyes were deep and unfathomable, as if they could see through everything. But not quite—they couldn’t pierce the veil of emotions. To her, Lu Qingxue’s stubborn attachment to that human was utterly pointless. She couldn’t comprehend what kind of feeling it was, and even if it led to her soul scattering into oblivion, it wouldn’t matter to Lu Qingxue.
She didn’t understand it, so she dismissed this vague emotion as mere obsession—a regret from before death that refused to fade even after. A ghost no longer capable of feeling the heart’s beat—how could she possibly develop feelings for a human?
If it was an obsession, then it needed to be resolved.
And the key to untying that knot was, naturally, the one downstairs.
Qian Shan said, “I’m not gambling with her—I’m gambling on her feelings for you.”
She continued, “I’ll keep covering for you for another month. So the bet lasts a month. If she doesn’t fall for you within that time, then…”
Her smiling tone turned serious. “You’ll return to your post obediently and be a proper White Impermanence for me.”
Lu Qingxue’s feather-light lashes fluttered. She heard the frustration in Qian Shan’s voice, laced with tough love. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. Qingxue, you have potential. I don’t want to see you stray down the wrong path.”
Lu Qingxue lowered her gaze, seemingly deaf to those words. Her tone cooled slightly. “Then one month it is.”
“From the looks of you, you seem pretty confident you’ll win?”
Lu Qingxue looked away. Emotions were unpredictable—who could say for sure? Win or lose, being by Yun Chun’s side for a month would be enough.
Qian Shan’s laughter echoed in her ears.
“If you win, I’ll grant you one request. Anything at all.”
Before Lu Qingxue could react, Qian Shan added, “But you’re destined to lose.”
Those words pierced deep into Lu Qingxue’s heart. In the place that no longer beat, a faint numbness stirred.
Because Qian Shan said, “No living person would fall for someone who’s already dead. And I got bored earlier and flipped through her Fate Ledger. It says the two of you—”
A triumphant smile curved Qian Shan’s lips. Though she knew the outcome, she still found the bet amusing. What made it amusing was Lu Qingxue, of all people, harboring feelings for a living human. As for that human… Qian Shan chuckled and spelled it out for Lu Qingxue, word by word: “Have… affinity… but… no… destiny.”
Seeing Lu Qingxue stare at her, Qian Shan burst out laughing. “This doesn’t count as cheating.”
“After all, as you humans say, love can conquer all. If she truly has feelings for you, that Fate Ledger could change at any moment. It’s just… heaven has decreed otherwise. Unless she’s willing to defy the heavens for you, what I saw might never come to pass.”
“And in a thousand years,” Qian Shan drawled leisurely, “I’ve never seen it happen once. So, still want to bet? Go cut ties with her now, and I’ll pretend this bet never happened.”
Lu Qingxue smiled.
It was the first smile she’d shown Qian Shan all day.
Gentle, resolute, carrying a strength even Qian Shan couldn’t fathom.
“I know you’re looking out for me. But I still have to say—why not bet?”
A faint smile lingered on Lu Qingxue’s lips, her tone light as a dragonfly skimming water, stirring the faintest ripple on a long-still lake.
When the dragonfly departed, the surface stilled once more. But the ripples it left had already shaken loose the wreckage sunk at the lake’s bottom.
It was a shipwreck called love. Fish swam idly through its cabins, blowing lazy bubbles.
No matter the storms raging outside, they remained untouched. Protected by the hull, shielded by the barrier named love, they drifted on indifferently.
That barrier—impenetrable.
“From the day I realized I liked her, I’ve already been gambling.”
But this wasn’t a bet for a month—it was for a lifetime.
Hers, however, was as fleeting as a brilliant firework, vanishing before Yun Chun could even glimpse it.
Yet the gamble didn’t end with her.
Eternal as sun and moon.
Her fingertip pressed to the furrow between Yun Chun’s brows. Perhaps because the coolness was so familiar, the crease smoothed away on its own before Lu Qingxue could even gently rub it.
Lu Qingxue let out a soft chuckle and couldn’t help calling out, “Little Darling.”
In her dreams, Yun Chun whimpered again, as if responding.
Lu Qingxue lowered her gaze.
Will you make me lose?
~~~
The next day.
Yun Chun was roused by her alarm clock.
She blinked awake in a daze and shut it off.
She hadn’t slept well that night, plagued by a chaotic dream so jumbled she couldn’t even begin to recount it, let alone find a starting point. It felt like she hadn’t slept at all—only when the alarm rang did drowsiness finally creep in.
A poor night’s sleep always brought on migraines. Yun Chun stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment, her right temple throbbing. When the pain stabbed a few more times with no relief, she gave up and pushed herself out of bed.
She’d slept in a T-shirt, its collar askew and drooping to reveal a wide swath of her right collarbone.
Her hair was a tousled mess. She raked her fingers through it haphazardly, glancing around the unfamiliar room. If not for the wine she’d had the night before, she might have pulled an all-nighter, wide awake.
Especially because…
She’d been waiting for Lu Qingxue to come home.
Yun Chun got out of bed. The guest room had no bathroom, so she headed to the one in the living room to freshen up.
Pushing open the door, she instinctively glanced toward the sofa.
Only a beam of morning light lay there, leisurely basking in soft, vibrant beige.
Just as disappointment washed over her that Lu Qingxue still wasn’t back, a voice rang in her ears—one she’d recognize anywhere, even in a sea of people, the moment she spoke.
It was pleasant, like wind singing a melody.
“Awake?”
Yun Chun turned toward the sound, unable to hide the delight in her eyes as she looked at the figure on the stairs. “…Yeah.”
She walked over slowly. “Sister Qingxue, where were you last night?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just… I came home and didn’t see you. Wondered where you went.”
Lu Qingxue smiled. “I went to wander some old haunts.”
“Oh.”
“You didn’t wait up for me, did you?” Lu Qingxue asked.
Yun Chun’s heart skipped a beat. She shook her head. “N-no… I went to bed early.”
Lu Qingxue smiled without replying. She descended the stairs and came to stand before Yun Chun, just like any other morning. “What do you want for breakfast? I’ll make it.”
“No need. Sister Xing said she’d bring some.”
“Want coffee, then?”
Yun Chun nodded. “Sure.”
Lu Qingxue hummed in acknowledgment. “I’ll brew some. You go wash up first.”
Yun Chun nodded again. “Okay.”
Seeing this, Lu Qingxue’s brow arched slightly, a soft smile playing on her lips. “So obedient today?”
Yun Chun shot back, “When am I not?”
Lu Qingxue drew out her response into a long, teasing note, leaning slowly toward Yun Chun. When she was close enough that Yun Chun thought she might kiss her, she paused and murmured, “Today, it feels like you’re being extra good because you’ve done something behind my back and feel guilty about it.”
Yun Chun lowered her lashes. “I haven’t.”
She added softly, “Just didn’t sleep well.”
Lu Qingxue stepped back. “That’s no good. You’ve got a big shoot today—plenty of cameras on you. You’ll need to bring your A-game.”
At the mention, Yun Chun glanced at the dress rack nearby and pointed to the gown hanging there. For some reason, she asked, “Li Yimeng said those dresses were designed by you.”
“Yeah.”
“She said you designed them specially for me.”
“Yep.”
Lu Qingxue’s unhesitating reply left Yun Chun’s limbs going numb, her legs heavy as lead.
Suddenly, she had no more questions.
But Lu Qingxue went on, “And also because you—”
Yun Chun cut her off in a panic. “No time! I—I’ll go wash up.”
Lu Qingxue blinked, then curved her lips. “Okay. Wash your hair too.”
Yun Chun kept her head down, avoiding Lu Qingxue’s eyes, and mumbled, “Got it.”
Afraid Lu Qingxue might say more, she stiffly lifted her feet and hurried to the bathroom. Along the way, she shook off the leaden weight in her legs, but the heavy burden fell silently—each piece landing squarely on her heart.
~~~
On the drive to the venue, Yun Chun stared out the window the whole time.
It was her first time in Milan, but not her first brush with Milan Fashion Week.
Li Gaoxuan had once lured her with the promise of it.
An opportunity she’d let slip by, now revived because of Lu Qingxue.
Everything hinged on Lu Qingxue.
Yet Lu Qingxue had left.
The feeling gnawed at Yun Chun uncomfortably.
Her heart felt stuffed to the brim, as if countless emotions had piled up inside, along with a torrent of words she wanted to say to Lu Qingxue. Yet when Lu Qingxue was on the verge of giving her answer, she had buried her head like a true ostrich, hiding from it all.
This wasn’t like Yun Chun at all. She had no idea why she was acting so out of character.
She needed some guidance.
Yun Chun shifted her gaze from the fleeting scenery outside the window to Qin Xing, who sat beside her, head bowed over her phone as she replied to messages. Leaning closer, Yun Chun whispered, “Sister Xing…”
Qin Xing didn’t look up. “Mm?”
Yun Chun hesitated before asking, “Have you ever liked someone?”
Qin Xing paused, setting her phone down to meet her eyes. “What’s this about?”
“What does it feel like to like someone?”
Yun Chun paused again. “And what about being liked by someone? How can you tell if a person likes you?”
Qin Xing stared at Yun Chun, her gaze intense enough to make Yun Chun’s cheeks flush with heat.
To clarify, Yun Chun added, “I mean the kind of like where you want to date them.”
Qin Xing looked away, picking up her phone once more to answer work messages. “In that case, I haven’t.”
Wait… what?
Yun Chun pressed, “Then have you felt something else?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
Qin Xing’s voice was calm, but her words were startling. “Seeing her makes me want to kiss her.”
Yun Chun blinked. “Huh?”
Qin Xing glanced up at her. “That’s what liking someone feels like.”
Yun Chun was at a loss for words. “I get the sense you’re sugarcoating it.”
She was sugarcoating it, of course—not just kissing, but sleeping with her too. Afraid it might scare Yun Chun off, though, Qin Xing didn’t argue the point. She just let out a chuckle. “But you’ve got the idea now, right?”
“I don’t think I have thoughts quite as… wild as yours.”
“So what do you think it is? Holding hands? Hugging? Or the whole movie-date-with-popcorn-and-soda routine?”
“Chun,” Qin Xing said, pausing mid-sentence. Yun Chun looked about the right age for college, but she’d started working young, so Qin Xing rephrased it. “Can we drop the high school playbook? You’ve been out in the real world for years now. Staying this innocent is just too naive.”
Yun Chun replied with utter sincerity. “I never went to high school. Or college.”
Qin Xing grinned. “Funny coincidence. Neither did I.”
“…”
Yun Chun’s heart clenched, her fingertips digging into her palm as she asked carefully, “So for people like us, liking someone is just like you described?”
Qin Xing shot her a sidelong glance. “That’s how it is for everyone.”
