Chapter 39 Part 2

“Not slow—reluctant to finish them fast.” As she spoke, Lou Yixuan grasped Lin Huayan’s wrist holding the bottle.

Seeing no rejection, she took the other wrist from her lap, stroking to uncurl the fingers, palm up.

Then she shook the bottle.

Two lozenges tumbled out.

Lin Huayan sat; Lou Yixuan stood.

In Lou Yixuan’s downward gaze: Lin Huayan’s smooth forehead, lowered brows and eyes, straight nose, ruby lips.

The office windows stood wide, outside clamor roaring like tides.

Yet the room held a subtle stillness—time frozen, air thick, only faint electric currents sparking between them.

Lin Huayan sat like fine porcelain, elegant and serene. Long lashes cast faint shadows on her lids, hiding undercurrents only she knew.

Her wrists and hands gleamed like jade, warm and lustrous—an exquisite artwork.

Lou Yixuan stood before her, leaning slightly, her perpetually cool hands gripping both wrists.

Warm to the touch, yet sensing Lin Huayan’s chill aura.

A silent warning.

Lou Yixuan’s heart drummed—thrilled, terrified. Afraid to cross lines, to pierce that gossamer window-paper, sending Lin Huayan fleeing like a startled bird.

Then her painstaking balance, her cherished closeness, would all vanish.

But holding back forever? Her endurance would reach divine levels.

Finally, Lou Yixuan released her with a smile, teasing: “Teacher Lin wouldn’t hold back too, right?”

…

The sky hung heavy today.

By evening self-study, scattered rain fell like fine needle stitches in an ink wash painting.

Lou Yixuan stood under the eaves alone. The drizzle was near-invisible, but she clearly heard its whispers touching all things.

Nature’s murmur in the night.

Classroom lights blazed; students sketched at desks, brushes whispering, rain adding splashes of color.

Bell rang. Lou Yixuan waved at the door: “Babies, see you next week—don’t head back to dorms too late.”

First and second self-study were coaching; third was free study.

Zhang Xiao chased out with a clear umbrella: “It’s raining—Xuan-jie, borrow one today?”

“Your Xuan-jie won’t borrow.”

Du Heming chimed in, folding her umbrella and linking arms with Lou Yixuan. “I’ll escort her to the garage.”

“Oh.” Zhang Xiao grinned. “Thanks, Min-jie! Don’t let our Xuan-jie get wet—or you either.”

“Loulou, I want a class rep this clever and spirited too.”

“One of a kind.”

After going upstairs, Lou Yixuan finally called Du Heming out. “Spill it—what’s the important business that brings you to find me so deep into the night?”

Du Heming didn’t beat around the bush. “I’m feeling awful, really awful. Lou Lou, keep me company, okay?”

Lou Yixuan swiped her card to enter the office. “How do you want me to keep you company? This place is bare-bones—nothing here. Mineral water?”

Du Heming had been to the Art Office two or three times before.

She knew exactly what it looked like inside. “Accompany me for a drink to drown my sorrows. It’s not even nine yet—we’ll head home no later than ten.”

“…”

“You don’t have to drink. Just chat with me.” Du Heming hugged Lou Yixuan’s arm and shook it. “If you have a heart, drive me back afterward, pretty please?”

“…” This wasn’t the first time Lou Yixuan had seen Du Heming act cute, but it was the first time Du Heming had ever done it to her.

Could she say no?

“Fine. I’ll go with you—and drive you back.”

“My dear, sweet Lou Lou!”

“…” Goosebumps prickled all over Lou Yixuan’s skin. She strongly suspected Du Heming was already drunk.

Du Heming picked the drinking spot; Lou Yixuan just drove her there.

And why Du Heming was so down in the dumps? Lou Yixuan had a pretty good guess.

She’d eaten dinner with Lin Huayan in the cafeteria.

Beforehand, she’d asked Teacher He and Teacher Du in the group chat if they wanted to join. The two replied one after the other: “No thanks.”

Teacher He had refused first.

No reason given.

Du Heming’s reason was: [Let me lie down a bit longer.]

After dinner, Lou Yixuan private-messaged Du Heming: [Is it really “Aunt Flo” acting up so bad?]

Du Heming replied: [Don’t blame her.]

But right after came a long string of [crying face] emojis.

The place they entered with Du Heming was a relatively quiet Clear Bar—no DJ, no dance floor, just light music playing.

Besides the bar counter, the booths were separated by half-person-high partitions, and there were private rooms in small, medium, and large sizes.

Lou Yixuan had wanted a small private room, but Du Heming dragged her straight to a booth.

When in Rome.

Maybe because it was a weekday—the bar was only half full even at this hour.

Du Heming ordered drinks at lightning speed.

Lou Yixuan hadn’t even gotten a good look at the menu before she finished—and she even ordered Lou Yixuan a soda water.

“You come here to drink often?”

“Not often.”

That “not often” from Du Heming was worth scrutinizing, but it would have to wait.

And so Lou Yixuan “waited” while Du Heming knocked back four Cuba Libres in a row, with two glasses still left on the table.

Lou Yixuan had looked it up: rum-based, mixed with cola.

Around 15% ABV—sweet lime flavor going in, but the rum’s kick hits hard later, easy to get blackout drunk without realizing.

When Du Heming reached for the fifth glass, Lou Yixuan blocked her. “Hold on—let’s chat first, then drink.”

That block was a mistake.

The woman who couldn’t get her drink pouted, and tears like little pearls started pattering down.

“!!!” Lou Yixuan scrambled—good thing there were tissues on the table.

She pulled out who-knows-how-many and handed them over. “Teacher Du, Teacher Du—tears are fine, but don’t let the snot drop.”

Du Heming let out a “wahaha,” laughing even uglier than her crying.

She took the tissues and wiped her face. “Lou Lou, you’ve changed. You’re not my little fairy anymore—you’re a little witch.”

“…” All thanks to you.

“Let me tell you, I’m telling you—you can’t tell Teacher Lin…”

“Teacher He okay to tell?”

The moment she heard “Teacher He,” Du Heming glared at Lou Yixuan with teary eyes. “Don’t bring up what shouldn’t be brought up! What do I do? What am I supposed to do?”

“…”

“I’ve pissed off Teacher He.”

“She won’t even talk to me now. Look—she didn’t even eat dinner with me tonight.”

“…” Lou Yixuan stayed silent, waiting for Du Heming to lay it all out clearly. Otherwise, she’d be left in the dark.

“You’re not talking, so you know, right? Yeah, I really like her. You must know that already.”

“Lou Lou, she’s too good. I’ve never met anyone as good as her.”

“So it’s normal that she draws me in, that I fall for her, pine for her, sink deeper and deeper, right?”

“…Right. Everything you said is right.”

“But, but she…”

Du Heming sniffed, blew her nose, thought for a bit. “You might not know yet—she’s divorced. From, from her ex-husband.”

Not ex-wife.

“…” Lou Yixuan was mildly shocked.

She’d shared meals with Teacher He multiple times, but they’d never delved into personal histories.

That mutual understanding was exactly why the four of them got along so well.

Even though both Teacher He and Lin Huayan were single, their singlehood fell into “always single” versus “temporarily single”—and the latter split into same-sex ex and opposite-sex ex.

If Teacher He was a straight woman through and through, then for Teacher Du, this… should she pursue? Could she pursue? What if she failed? What if she succeeded?

Each question was a century-defining dilemma on its own.

It’d rack her brains.

By comparison, Du Heming’s “chase for the wife” had a difficulty level that surpassed her own by miles.

Lou Yixuan had once naively thought that as long as Teacher He and Teacher Du were both single, romance would be “easy enough.”

Now? Not easy at all.

If she didn’t have to drive later, Lou Yixuan would’ve had a drink herself. If she weren’t allergic to alcohol, it wouldn’t have been just one.

“Lou Lou…”

With no one stopping her, Du Heming smoothly picked up the fifth glass. “Your face tells me you think I’m pathetic too, right?”

“…” She really was.

Pathetic enough that Lou Yixuan didn’t dare imagine: if Du Heming charged ahead recklessly, would Teacher He send her something like Lin Huayan had back then—”I’ve been married to a man, I only like men, I get homosexuality but I’m not gay”—a breakup message for good.

Strangers from then on, not recognizing each other.

That would be deadly. Then, if Du Heming tried drowning her sorrows, she’d end up in the hospital.

But…

Intuition made Lou Yixuan doubt Teacher He’s orientation. She always felt Teacher He was more “bent” than Lin Huayan.

If she had to classify, Teacher He was the type forced deep into the closet against her will, while Lin Huayan was the stubborn kind who was gay but oblivious—both tough nuts to crack.

“To this glass—for our unspoken crushes that torment us so.” Du Heming smiled bitterly and tossed it back.

“…” Our?

“Cough, cough!”

Du Heming drank too fast. Liquor spilled from the corner of her mouth—she didn’t bother wiping, just kept coughing nonstop.

Tears flowed even more uncontrollably, trickling down her cheeks into her mouth. So bitter.

“Du…” Lou Yixuan’s hand with the tissues hovered midair, then withdrew.

Fellow sufferers in love.

She too had been brutally rejected by Lin Huayan, utterly helpless on this path to love, powerless to help.

After listening to Du Heming’s increasingly incoherent ramblings for a good while, she checked the time, eyed the “messy” Du Heming, and decided to call in outside reinforcements.