Chapter 33: Not at All Like Newlywed Wives. Part 1

“Happy birthday.”

Qiu Yiran said it sincerely to Feng Yu on the phone.

Then a sharp, high-pitched “Ah——” rang out from the phone.

The scream lasted a full thirty seconds.

Qiu Yiran grimaced, clamping her hands over her ears, and blinked pleadingly at Li Chunfeng, who held the phone.

Li Chunfeng raised an eyebrow at her.

Only then did she pull the phone away from Qiu Yiran’s ear and say to Feng Yu,

“Who told you to up and vanish?”

Her tone was clearly one of sweet revenge, like a sly fox.

It was early 2020 at the time.

Li Chunfeng stayed in Paris.

She moved into “Qiu Yiran’s very expensive house” and officially began “living together” with Qiu Yiran.

It happened one morning.

Qiu Yiran was in the kitchen experimenting with Chinese clear soup noodles.

Li Chunfeng suddenly emerged from the master bedroom, yawning and stumbling out.

Qiu Yiran heard the door.

She had meant to ask Li Chunfeng to taste the broth, but as she turned—

She saw Li Chunfeng standing in front of the fridge, hand on the door, tilting her head back to gulp ice water.

Her naturally curly brown hair fell softly down her back.

Bare-legged, with a loose oversized T-shirt on top that slipped off one shoulder.

Qiu Yiran whipped her gaze away faster than lightning—unable even to get out, “Don’t drink ice water first thing in the morning.”

Her lips pressed tight.

She forced her focus onto the pot of noodles she’d just dropped in—plump and white, so pretty, so beautiful.

But she could still hear everything happening behind her—

Li Chunfeng closed the fridge.

Her fingers twisted the mineral water bottle, making a sound that instinctively straightened the spine.

Qiu Yiran wiggled her toes.

She sensed that Li Chunfeng had probably clasped her hands behind her back, holding the bottle.

The water sloshed inside as the woman strolled over.

Slowly, but lightly, like a cat walking on tiptoes.

Drawing closer.

Observing her.

Tap—

The soft sound of the woman’s slippers hitting the floor.

Tap—

In her panic, Qiu Yiran grabbed chopsticks and fished out a clump of noodles.

Tap—

Qiu Yiran floundered, dropping the noodles back in.

Tap—

The woman chuckled lightly.

Qiu Yiran cleared her throat.

Tap—

The woman’s footsteps stopped right behind her, less than five centimeters away.

She watched quietly, her breath warm.

Carrying that natural, familiar scent of her hair.

Like an embrace through the air, intimate despite the distance.

Tap—

The woman suddenly stepped to her side.

Tap—

Qiu Yiran tensed her jaw and back.

Tap—

Qiu Yiran finally couldn’t take the standoff. She turned. “Li Chunfeng—”

The words died halfway.

A sudden chill touched her ear.

Li Chunfeng had pressed the phone against it.

She herself leaned in with her thick curls hanging, peering at Qiu Yiran from the shadows.

So close—

Just the steam from the boiling pot between their eyes.

The perfect distance for a kiss.

Qiu Yiran froze completely.

Until Li Chunfeng took her hand.

Well—mostly the chopsticks in it.

The woman helped her fish out the noodles that were about to stick to the pot.

Then she looked at her again.

Laughter crinkled the corners of her eyes like the steam seeping in, and she mouthed,

“Say—‘Happy birthday.’”

People obey any command when a call is coming through.

So Qiu Yiran stood there blankly with the chopsticks in hand and cooperatively said,

“Happy birthday.”

There was a long pause on the other end before a stranger’s female voice asked,

“Who are you?”

Li Chunfeng said nothing.

So Qiu Yiran blinked and started introducing herself over the pot of noodles,

“I’m Qiu Yiran, I’m—”

She didn’t finish.

A particularly loud voice burst from the phone. “What? Say that again!”

Qiu Yiran jumped. “I’m Qiu Yiran. Is there a problem?”

Afterward,

She looked at Li Chunfeng in confusion.

Li Chunfeng smiled and explained, “Her name’s Feng Yu, a model from my cohort. She’s always had a huge crush on you—her lifelong dream is for you to shoot a set of photos epic enough to take to the grave. It’s her birthday today, so I wanted to rub it in her face a little.”

She explained candidly, not hiding her intent to show off.

Qiu Yiran got it.

But once she knew who was on the phone, she started feeling shy—

This was Li Chunfeng’s friend, and they’d met before.

Her lips pressed tight. She had no idea what to say into the still-open line, panicking like she’d been strapped onto a rollercoaster.

Sensing her vibe, Li Chunfeng prompted at just the right moment,

“Tell her happy birthday again. She might not have heard.”

Qiu Yiran exhaled in relief and said it sincerely to Feng Yu once more,

“Happy birthday.”

Then came the thirty-second scream.

Qiu Yiran’s mouth went flat.

Li Chunfeng took the phone away and stepped out of the kitchen to continue the international call.

Of course,

She also let go of Qiu Yiran’s hand.

Leaving the warmth of her fingers on the back of it.

Qiu Yiran licked her lips and glanced at Li Chunfeng, who had walked away—

She leaned lazily against the window, chatting idly into the phone.

Catching Qiu Yiran’s look, she tilted her head.

Mouthed, “What?”

Qiu Yiran shook her head.

Then looked away.

The noodles were almost boiled dry.

She hurriedly fished them out, added them to the broth, bustling around the kitchen. She didn’t miss what Li Chunfeng said on the call—

“Yeah, we live together.”

Qiu Yiran perked her ears. She was talking about her.

“We met on Christmas Eve.”

Just stating facts, no extra details. Qiu Yiran secretly added in her mind—they got married on Christmas.

“She’s great, very…”

Halfway through, Li Chunfeng trailed off, like she couldn’t find the right word.

Qiu Yiran froze mid-motion, even holding her breath.

Her ears practically melted into the steam, floating out to listen.

She figured Li Chunfeng would call her “reliable” or “trustworthy”… something like that.

At least a “nice person,” right?

“Cute.”

Li Chunfeng eyed the woman’s instantly rigid back and laughed out loud.

“Cute?” Feng Yu sounded existentially confused on the phone. “That’s not right. Isn’t she older than us? Her interviews and documentaries make her seem so serious and proper. Cute? Are you sure it’s her? And Li Chunfeng, since when do you use words like that for anyone?”

Li Chunfeng drawled a casual “Mm,” unconcerned. “She’s cute.”

Clatter—

Something fell in the kitchen.

Qiu Yiran calmly bent to pick it up. When she straightened, she busied herself opening and slamming two cabinets for no reason.

Her back to Li Chunfeng, her ears red as if bitten.

Li Chunfeng chuckled softly again.

Feng Yu exclaimed dramatically on the phone, “Why are you laughing after complimenting her?”

“…” Li Chunfeng narrowed her eyes. “Anyway, you weren’t wrong.”

“Wrong about what?”

“She’s great.”

Hearing those three words, Qiu Yiran in the kitchen let out a deep breath—that was high praise in her book.

As for that other bit…

Cute?

Qiu Yiran didn’t buy it.

No one had ever called her that.

She stared at the two bowls of plump white noodles, utterly baffled.

In the living room, Li Chunfeng headed toward the master bedroom, sounding like she was about to hang up.

“Really, no joke. It’s her. Oh, and she’s my…”

Bang—

The words cut off as the door shut.

Qiu Yiran frowned, feeling like something was missing inside her.

She hadn’t heard the final label.

Landlord? Friend? Roommate? Or… wife?

Would Li Chunfeng tell her friend back home about their shotgun wedding?

The thought made

Qiu Yiran’s own head ache.

She still hadn’t told Lin Manyi or Xu Wuyi in China. Xu Wuyi would be fine—just ask if her wife was pretty.

But if Lin Manyi found out she’d impulsively married abroad, and to a woman…

She’d be pissed.

Qiu Yiran sighed.

Turns out, marriage wasn’t as simple as she’d imagined.

–

They polished off both bowls clean.

Qiu Yiran set down her bowl and chopsticks, dressed neatly, and prepared to head out. She had a brand shoot that day.

Li Chunfeng cooperatively cleared the dishes, washed them, and got ready to leave too.

They stood shoulder to shoulder at the entryway, changing shoes.

Then straightened up at the same time.

Eyeing each other from head to toe.

Li Chunfeng straightened Qiu Yiran’s scarf.

Then mischievously scratched under her chin. “I might be late home tonight.”

“Got it.” Qiu Yiran touched her chin.

She naturally zipped Li Chunfeng’s coat up almost to her chin, then relaxed her brows and said earnestly,

“Li Chunfeng, it’s winter. Drink less ice water.”

“Got it.” Li Chunfeng agreed.

Then secretly unzipped it a bit.

The woman clearly hadn’t taken her words to heart.

Qiu Yiran frowned.

Li Chunfeng blinked innocently. “Want to zip it back up?”

Qiu Yiran sighed.

She did, picking the perfect spot—

High enough not to expose the chin, but not so tight it’d catch the wind like Li Chunfeng’s.

Satisfied, she withdrew her hand.

And said very solemnly to Li Chunfeng, “This position. Don’t move it all day.”

Li Chunfeng glanced down.

She laughed inexplicably, then looked at Qiu Yiran’s straight face and sighed. “Qiu Yiran, this isn’t fashionable at all.”

Qiu Yiran lectured patiently,

“Li Chunfeng, you’re twenty-two now. When you reach my age, you’ll know warmth beats fashion every time.”

“Your age?” Li Chunfeng tilted her head.

“Don’t underestimate two years’ difference.” Qiu Yiran smiled kindly.

Li Chunfeng cracked up. “Got it.”

Qiu Yiran was finally satisfied.

They left together. Qiu Yiran called a taxi to the bustling city center.

Li Chunfeng weaved through crowded streets and hopped the subway to her part-time gig at the fried chicken shop.

The taxi passed subway stations now and then, and Qiu Yiran would crane her neck to check if it was one Li Chunfeng used. She had all her daily stops memorized.

Meanwhile, emerging from the subway, Li Chunfeng occasionally spotted big production crews shooting on the street.

She’d lift her chin to check if the photographer half-hidden by the camera was Chinese, if there was a tear mole at her eye’s corner, if she’d smile big upon seeing her.

This “cohabitation” had gone on for two weeks.

More like slightly close roommates than anything.