Chapter 86

Lin Huayan helped Lou Yixuan blow-dry the hair she hadn’t gotten to in the dorm, doing it now at home.

It was still early, just past nine.

But Lin Huayan had drunk so many bottles of fruit beer—she wasn’t drunk, but she was a bit dizzy, so she couldn’t do much else.

Lou Yixuan, meanwhile, was overwhelmed by this sudden happiness. She wished she could stick to Lin Huayan every single second.

After her hair was dry, she obediently climbed into bed first. Once Lin Huayan turned off the main light and joined her, Lou Yixuan could no longer suppress her “vulgar” instincts. She knelt above Lin Huayan with her knees spread apart, pinning her against the headboard pillows and kissing her deeply.

She even guided Lin Huayan’s hand to her own chest, letting her feel the fervent pounding beneath her breast, each throb reverberating in Lin Huayan’s palm.

Lin Huayan’s body temperature was higher than hers, and that warmth seeped from her palm straight into Lou Yixuan’s heart.

Lou Yixuan’s kisses were hotter than all their previous ones combined. She sucked the air dry from Lin Huayan’s mouth, then branded her lips across her skin, leaving clusters of blooming fireworks in their wake.

Hair still slightly damp tangled messily around them—now the cool whisper of strands, now the searing heat of skin.

Only in moments like these could winter and summer converge, coexist.

Lin Huayan’s mind scattered under the dual assault of cold and heat, reduced to raw sensations everywhere.

Lou Yixuan pressed down closer, molding their bodies tighter and distributing most of her weight evenly across Lin Huayan.

“Lin Huayan, you’re so soft.”

Women were soft by nature; a woman in love was even softer—so soft that Lou Yixuan hesitated to touch her roughly, daring only to kiss her with equally tender lips.

Her hands weren’t idle, either. They found the round buttons and toyed with them from the bottom up, one by one.

Like fallen stars piercing space-time rifts, vanishing beyond the galaxy.

A sliver of clarity returned to Lin Huayan’s mind. She opened her hazy eyes and cupped Lou Yixuan’s flushed face with her warm palm.

“Yixuan…”

But the moment she said the name, Lou Yixuan kissed her fiercely again.

Insatiable, Lou Yixuan drained the oxygen from Lin Huayan’s mouth and passed her own into it, infusing every inch of Lin Huayan’s skin—above and below—with her scent.

Until oxygen ran low, until breathing grew labored—only then did Lin Huayan push at Lou Yixuan’s shoulders. “Yixuan, Yixuan, wait.”

Their lips still brushed as Lou Yixuan’s hot palm covered the slight opening at Lin Huayan’s collar.

“Lin Huayan, you said it was okay,” Lou Yixuan whimpered, on the verge of tears, thinking Lin Huayan wasn’t keeping her word. “Why make me wait now?”

Stared down by those clear eyes brimming with restrained desire, Lin Huayan gasped for air and pulled her closer to the headboard.

Ignoring how her clothes had been rumpled by the little kitten, she patted Lou Yixuan’s back soothingly. “It’s not that I won’t—I’m not going back on my word. When I said ‘wait,’ I meant there’s something very important I need to tell you first.”

What could be so important right now?

Was Lin Huayan stalling? She was clearly aroused—how did she have such self-control every time?

Lou Yixuan eyed her skeptically, brows furrowing deeper, her face a mask of doubt and displeasure.

Lin Huayan sighed, smoothing her brows with a hand, then pecked her lips before guiding the hand still resting on her body downward, letting Lou Yixuan’s fingertip brush the surgical scar that had healed years ago.

The raised, uneven texture under her fingertip was all too familiar to Lou Yixuan.

Tears sprang to her eyes in an instant. Her lips trembled as she asked, “What is this? Lin Huayan, what is this?”

She kept repeating “What is this?” while her touching hand began to shake—because the scar… was long.

A scar that length meant a major incision, whether from a sharp blade or scalpel—it implied serious surgery.

Lou Yixuan rolled to the side and leaned down to look, but her blurry vision made it impossible.

She wiped her tears, only for Lin Huayan to grab her hand.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. It was just surgery a few years ago. I didn’t take good care of the scar, so it looks ugly now.”

Lin Huayan said it lightly, casually.

And it was casual.

If she hadn’t been thinking of their bodies finally uniting, if she hadn’t worried Lou Yixuan would see her flawed body, she never would have given this scar—or the intimacy it represented—a second thought.

People were strange like that. They could embrace a loved one’s good and bad, beauty and flaws.

But for themselves? They only wanted to show the good, the beautiful.

She trusted Lou Yixuan wouldn’t mind this jagged scar.

Just as she trusted that Lou Yixuan loved her so deeply that the words “I want to be with you, to go forward together” were enough—no need to bow or beckon, no apologies for past hurts—and Lou Yixuan would come running joyfully.

Thanks to He Huan’s guidance.

It made her realize: it wasn’t that the elf had stolen her spring—it was she, the spring itself, who had kept abandoning the elf.

She was the spring the elf had searched so desperately for.

But after her elf finally alighted and rested, she hadn’t even been happy long before making her cry again. “What surgery leaves a scar this long? Tell me, tell me…”

“Don’t rush, don’t cry.” Lin Huayan gripped Lou Yixuan’s hand, pulling the emotional girl fully into her arms and holding her tight. She kissed her hair. “A kidney transplant.”

“A close blood relative was critically ill and needed a kidney. I got tested for compatibility. Mine was the best match, highest success rate. I had no major ties, no plans for marriage or kids, so I signed the donation consent.”

Lou Yixuan grew more agitated. “What ‘close relative’?! That’s a kidney, Lin Huayan—part of you. How could you just give it away?”

Her entire left hand caressed the scar, fingers still trembling, voice quivering. Her forehead pressed against Lin Huayan’s jaw, shaking with sobs. “Lin Huayan, how could you have ‘no ties’? What about your parents? Your friends? And me—these years, you didn’t miss me at all? Not even a little?”

Seeing her cry so hard she could barely breathe, Lin Huayan tightened her arms.

“Don’t be scared, don’t be scared. Medically speaking, one kidney can handle most functions without affecting normal life. I get thorough checkups every summer vacation. This remaining one has been working great, just…”

Lin Huayan paused there, and the trembling in her embrace stilled with her words.

“Just… what?”

“Just,” Lin Huayan continued, “I don’t want to lie to you, Yixuan. I don’t know if it’ll stay this good forever. The doctors can’t guarantee it. So…”

“So you’re scared.” Lou Yixuan cut in.

Only now did it hit her. Back at Qin Fengru’s wedding banquet, when Lin Huayan accused her of “why did it take so long to find me,” it wasn’t about picking her up—it was why she’d taken so long to return to the country.

If she’d come back years earlier, before the donation, would Lin Huayan have had ties? Would she have given away her kidney so freely?

Had Lin Huayan been waiting for her all along? Waiting for her to grow up, to come back?

Lou Yixuan’s tears flowed harder, soaking Lin Huayan’s shoulder.

She bit down hard on it, making Lin Huayan remember the pain, then released with a scold. “Lin Huayan, you’re such a big idiot.”

Lin Huayan winced but smiled, catching Lou Yixuan’s hand—which had lingered on the scar—and brushing it against her chest.

“Teacher Lou, that’s three times now. Aren’t you going to take responsibility?”

She’d told what needed telling. Time to shift focus, or who knew how long her little kitten would cry? How would she teach weekend classes with swollen eyes tomorrow?

Lou Yixuan was crying too hard to stop, her body hitching every few seconds.

Like hiccups.

Lin Huayan stroked her face with a smile. “Cried your fill?”

Her little kitten caught her finger, nipping it lightly before letting go. “Salty.”

“Tears are salty, of course.”

“…”

Lin Huayan was teasing her—teasing her. These tears were all for Lin Huayan, and she was laughing.

Lou Yixuan caught her off guard and yanked open her clothes.

No dramatic shock like she’d imagined, but Lin Huayan’s eyes widened briefly before fluttering shut, her face turning slightly away.

“Turn off the light.”

“No.”

“…” Lin Huayan switched tactics, turning back.

Her hands hooked around Lou Yixuan’s neck, pulling her down with urgent force, and kissed her.

Eyes closed, Lin Huayan poured herself into the kiss, hiding her shyness.

Lou Yixuan’s eyes stayed open, counting the shadows of her lashes on that porcelain face, admiring the shy curve of her brows like mountains brushed by sunset glow.

They had more than sunsets.

They had sunrises, too.

Dawn’s light on Lin Huayan, on them—it had to be beautiful. She wanted to see it, with Lin Huayan, Teacher Du, Teacher He, all of them.

Lou Yixuan slowed her responses deliberately, rubbing her nose against the smooth, pale skin of Lin Huayan’s face. She watched her nose twitch lightly, lashes fluttering—like butterflies trapped in a web of desire.

Hot breath washed over, and the butterflies swooned into the whirlpool of Lou Yixuan’s gaze, lost in dizzy ecstasy, too weak for futile struggle.

Beneath her palm, Lin Huayan’s heart raced chaotically; below her chest, pearl-like beads glistened.

Lou Yixuan wanted to preserve every frame in a vacuum-sealed bag, even the mist on those long lashes frozen forever in a specimen of bliss.

Pure white adorned with vivid red.

Like living things, trembling ethereally in warm currents—adorable, beautiful beyond words.

Lin Huayan arched back to escape, but strong arms pinned her waist. Nowhere to flee.

Nearly nine years later, she tumbled dizzily into the little kitten’s mouth again, hearing her speak right by her heart.

The kitten said, “Lin Huayan, don’t run anymore.”

In that heart-wrenching throb, she relaxed, urging herself forward, letting her heartbeat reply—

I won’t run anymore.

Never again.

Human bonds were fragile; obsessing over right and wrong, gain and loss, union and parting—what place for happiness then?

Don’t glorify suffering—joy is the only key to unlock it.

The key to her happiness was in Lou Yixuan’s hands; hers to Lou Yixuan’s.

They were each other’s keys, each other’s spring.

“Yixuan…”

She swore Lou Yixuan really was a cat—biting her was one thing, but gnawing and refusing to let go, even using teeth.

“Aren’t you the one who wants me to take responsibility?”

Lou Yixuan sprawled low, peeking up through her lashes at the woman who wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Lin Huayan, I’m taking responsibility. Aren’t you going to look? Look…” Midway, her head was pressed down.

Deeper.

The hand on her head pressed harder. “Don’t say it…”

Lou Yixuan mumbled twice, kissing diligently like a greedy, possessive kitten—slurp slurp—humming contentedly, monopolizing the returned spring’s brilliant cherry blossoms, fulfilling this long-awaited date.

So many date activities she’d craved; she had to savor them one by one, complete them all, to honor this blooming spring.

As she trailed downward, she gathered Lin Huayan’s loose hair, twirling strands and brushing them teasingly against the quivering flower on the branch.

Lin Huayan called the scar ugly, but Lou Yixuan disagreed completely.

This scar…

Every uneven ridge symbolized the veins of life’s river, embodied Lin Huayan’s greatness.

Lin Huayan had saved a life with one kidney.

How was that not great?

“Yi Xuan, don’t…” The dark scar was caressed inch by inch with her lover’s feather-light kisses. Lin Huayan couldn’t quite bear it.

“Does it still hurt?” Lou Yixuan gazed at her with deep, shadowed eyes. “Lin Huayan, does this scar still hurt?”

Lin Huayan’s hand, outstretched halfway into the vast wilderness, tangled and collided with another invisible hand, until it finally melted away into the other’s body.

They became one inseparable whole.

She shook her head and said, “It doesn’t hurt. It hasn’t hurt for a long time.”

“But it hurts me. Lin Huayan, it hurts so much.” The mere thought of Lin Huayan lying in the operating room filled Lou Yixuan with guilt.

Guilt that she hadn’t let Lin Huayan know, before she signed the donation consent form, about her unwavering love and longing all those years. Guilt that she hadn’t been by Lin Huayan’s side during the surgery. Guilt most of all that she hadn’t come back sooner…

To see her.

But she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t let Lin Huayan know how much she blamed herself, because Lin Huayan would surely try to comfort her with “Don’t blame yourself.”

She didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t hear it.

Afraid she would cry again, Lin Huayan anxiously tried to prop herself up, but the next moment, she was pressed back down onto the bed.

“Don’t move. I need pain relief right now. You have to relieve my pain.”

“…”

Pain relief? How was she supposed to do that?

Lin Huayan was still puzzling it over when Lou Yixuan’s next move with her leg dispelled all doubt.

“Is this okay?”

“…” Lin Huayan pressed her lips together without a word, turned her face away, and cooperated by bending her knee and lifting her leg.

Once that was done, Lou Yixuan tossed it aside carelessly, flinging it off the bed.

Then she quickly stripped off her own and pressed tightly against Lin Huayan’s. Lin Huayan reached for the blanket, but she was stopped.

“Aren’t you hot? I’m hot.”

“…”

“Lin Huayan,” Lou Yixuan murmured, pecking rapid little kisses at Lin Huayan’s mouth and chin like a chick at rice grains, “do you remember that night?”

“Which night?”

“You don’t remember.”

“I… I don’t know which night you’re talking about.” Lin Huayan racked her flustered, chaotic brain desperately.

“Oh.” Lou Yixuan let out a muffled sound, then pinched her with her fingers. “Then lie still. I’ll tell you exactly which night it was.”

The sting on Lin Huayan’s body hadn’t even registered yet when her lower lip was seized even more fiercely by Lou Yixuan.

She ought to know now which night Lou Yixuan was asking about, but the answer no longer mattered.

Spring’s riot of flowers bloomed in dazzling purples and fiery reds. Lou Yixuan had the whole night to savor them slowly, so she wasn’t in any rush. She appreciated one spot with measured tenderness before moving methodically to the next.

In the waning days of spring and the opening curtain of early summer, she finally welcomed the long-delayed flower season. She heard the flowers blooming, smelled their lush, intoxicating fragrance, and tasted their forms in full, exquisite splendor.

Before boating on the lotus pond at the lake’s heart, the riot of flowers nearly dazzled the eyes. Lin Huayan’s gift flowed as abundantly as her tears.

The human body was miraculous—waters surged from different sources, yet they all carried that faint “fragrance,” salty and sweet without exception.

Like blood, like tears, like sweat, and like…

They were like a perfume with distinct top, middle, and base notes, each fragrant in its own way: joyful flavors, bitter ones, heartbreaking ones, and sweet ones too.

The searing heat of her mouth transmitted sensitive nerves straight to her brain.

Lin Huayan’s entire body heated up rapidly, her boiling blood racing wildly through her veins like a volcano on the verge of eruption. Her hormones surged to their peak.

Sticky, wet sounds erupted into the air like hypnotic notes. Lin Huayan’s mind grew hazy, the sweat beading ceaselessly on her forehead and the tears welling endlessly at her eyes both bearing witness to her utter, soul-shaking surrender.

It must be the alcohol, she thought.

But a hoarse voice echoed from some deep, secluded valley, drifting into her ears.

“Does it feel good? Lin Huayan, do my kisses feel good?”