Though they were merely a few paper stars, Li Jia felt as if real stars had fallen into her palm, burning hot against her skin.
The Alpha’s voice still echoed in her ears.
“I’ll be your star.”
The words sounded as tender as a lover’s whisper.
But she knew all too well that Ye Chengxing was simply trying in earnest to cheer her up, to keep her from feeling sad about not seeing many stars.
Understanding that didn’t stop her heart from racing uncontrollably.
For a fleeting moment, she desperately wanted to ask if Ye Chengxing knew what those words implied, if she realized how one simple sentence from her could send Li Jia’s heart into chaos.
Li Jia’s breath caught, and it took her a long while to pull herself free from those feelings. She kept her tone carefully measured, never letting a hint of the turmoil inside show: “Thank you, sis. I love them…”
Ye Chengxing had already felt awkward after saying those words, and hearing Li Jia’s response only made her more so. Even her face flushed slightly against her will.
That way of expressing herself… it filled her with an indescribable sense of embarrassment.
She had seen girls at the hospital comforting their best friends like that, though.
Though the phrasing made her toes curl in secondhand shame, substituting it in like this seemed effective enough?
Little Doctor Ye, ever focused solely on her work and career, had no idea those were lines girlfriends used with each other. She’d imitated it halfway and left Li Jia hanging, yet patted herself on the back for being a genius.
Outside the car window, the rain continued to patter steadily.
Though both had changed into dry clothes, they still needed to get home quickly and take hot showers.
The cut on Li Jia’s palm had nearly healed completely under Ye Chengxing’s earlier care; now, barely a trace of the wound remained.
Just thinking of the word “shower” now made Ye Chengxing think of Li Jia. Fortunately, the Omega’s hand was better, or she might have wanted to hide away again.
She even started wondering if she really ought to start looking for someone she could develop a relationship with. But no sooner had the thought formed than she questioned whether she actually wanted to meet someone or was just trying to avoid Li Jia.
Either way, her mindset wasn’t exactly stable.
One drove while the other sat in the passenger seat, their faces giving nothing away. Yet inside, their thoughts churned in strikingly similar disarray.
Li Jia clutched those few paper stars, and inexplicably, Bai Tang came to mind once more.
She couldn’t help it.
She couldn’t stop wondering if, had someone else come stargazing with Ye Chengxing today, whether the doctor would have folded stars for them too—as if to cheer her up—coaxing them the same way.
Li Jia didn’t dare squeeze too hard, afraid she’d crush the stars into flat scraps of paper. Instead, she loosely cupped them, letting them sway in the gaps between her fingers. Their sharp edges occasionally grazed her skin.
She pressed her lips together. “Sis, don’t be a star…”
Ye Chengxing, focused on driving, let out a puzzled hum at first, not quite catching the words. Then she laughed and replied, “What do you mean? What do you want me to be, Xiao Li?”
Li Jia lowered her eyes, her voice growing even softer. “It’s not about being anything. To me, sis, you’re…” Like the sun itself.
There were countless stars, but only one sun.
She ought to be the only one.
Her one and only.
The unfinished words carried thoughts that overstepped their bounds, and in the end, she didn’t voice them.
Ye Chengxing had only asked offhand, but Li Jia’s sudden silence piqued her curiosity. “What?”
After the Alpha spoke, Li Jia paused for several seconds. Just as Ye Chengxing thought she wouldn’t get an answer, Li Jia’s voice rose softly: “A benefactor. Someone who’s done so much for me. A very important person.”
It wasn’t entirely unexpected—an answer well within the realm of possibility.
After all, that was precisely their relationship.
Close, yes, in a way.
She had bathed her, cared for her every need, seen her at her most wretched and helpless.
They lived together, shared meals every day.
Ye Chengxing let out a soft “Mm,” unable to pinpoint the sudden pang of disappointment that welled up inside her at Li Jia’s reply.
But after a moment’s reflection, it did seem accurate.
She let go of the question she couldn’t unravel. If there was a clear answer to be found, she’d dig for it. But whenever Li Jia was involved, every puzzle lost its certainty, blurring into something that kept her tossing and turning.
So she paused for two seconds herself, then smiled back: “I see.” What else could it be? What other kind of relationship?
Li Jia lifted her eyes at the sound of Ye Chengxing’s voice. The Alpha’s expression remained that same gentle, faint smile.
No different from before.
She lowered her gaze again.
Ye Chengxing’s kindness was genuine, her care real. But beneath that layer of warmth, Li Jia couldn’t glimpse even a sliver of the doctor’s true thoughts.
They were already so close. To Ye Chengxing in this life, no one could be as intimate with her as Li Jia was.
So why did that very closeness breed more unease? Why did it leave her feeling even less satisfied?
Li Jia parted her lips, tempted to say, “Sis, take a shower with me later.” But with her palm healed, what excuse could she possibly have to seek that closeness now?
Silence fell inside the car, broken only by the steady patter of rain, settling back into quiet.
Ye Chengxing noticed that after her casual “I see,” the atmosphere in the car had shifted subtly.
The feeling lingered all the way until she pulled into the villa driveway and they arrived home.
She glanced sideways at Li Jia.
The car had stopped, but the Omega hadn’t moved, her gaze dazed as she stared out the window.
She seemed lost in thought.
It wasn’t until Ye Chengxing called, “Xiao Li,” that Li Jia turned her head. “Oh, we’re home already.”
Li Jia seemed so different from her usual self—ever since running into Bai Tang, she’d barely spoken.
Had her avoidance over the past few days driven a wedge between them?
The thought had scarcely formed before Ye Chengxing dismissed it.
She didn’t want to entertain that possibility.
Looking at Li Jia with some concern, Ye Chengxing asked, “Xiao Li, are you okay? Do you feel unwell anywhere?”
At the sound of her voice, Li Jia’s eyelashes fluttered slowly. She gave a vague reply: “I don’t know… Probably nothing. Let’s head inside.”
Hearing that, Ye Chengxing instinctively checked Li Jia’s hand for warmth, then touched her forehead.
Li Jia’s hands were always cool year-round, and her forehead felt neither feverish nor overly warm—hard to tell.
Ye Chengxing fastened the Omega’s jacket more securely, buttoning it up one by one. “It’s probably from getting caught in the rain. Let’s get inside, take a hot shower, and I’ll make you some ginger sugar water to ward off the chill.”
The Omega let her fuss without protest, mustering a smile as if to ease her worry—like a little white flower wilted by the rain, yet still striving to unfurl its petals.
Ye Chengxing hurried Li Jia inside and ran her a hot bath.
Once everything was set, she looked at Li Jia, her tone hesitant: “Can you… manage on your own?”
Li Jia’s lips curved in a smile that looked all the more strained for its show of strength, despite her obvious frailty. “It was just a bit of rain. I can handle it, sis. I’m fine.”
To prove it, she even stretched her limbs a little, demonstrating her supposed vigor.
Seeing her like that only heightened Ye Chengxing’s worry.
Li Jia might not realize her own condition, but Ye Chengxing did. A little rain like that could easily lead to a cold or fever.
The realization brought a wave of self-reproach.
If not for her sudden whim to go stargazing, Li Jia wouldn’t have gotten soaked.
Sensing her guilt, Li Jia smiled again. “It’s okay. I can wash myself. If anything’s wrong, I’ll call for you from inside.”
Since Li Jia insisted, Ye Chengxing relented. “Alright then. Call me if you need anything.”
Under Ye Chengxing’s worried gaze, Li Jia stepped into the bathroom.
The door slid shut automatically behind her.
But the smile on her face didn’t fade—in fact, it deepened.
The chance for closeness had been right there, but what she craved went beyond a single moment.
She could see the guilt and self-blame in Ye Chengxing’s eyes. Though exploiting it made her feel all the more vile, it was her only option now.
She didn’t want the doctor avoiding her like the past few days, that cold distance where they barely exchanged words.
Li Jia adjusted the bathwater from warm to nearly icy cold, then slowly stripped and sank into it.
The water stung with bone-chilling cold, but her spirits lifted all the same.
Icy droplets trailed from her damp hair.
Sparking a shiver of pure physical reaction.
Li Jia parted her legs slightly. Amid the frigid water, she tilted her neck back, lost in fantasies of caresses that existed only in her mind.
The Omega’s head lolled against the wall, her warm breaths fogging the tiles in blooming patterns. Her soaked hair felt cooler than the water, droplets beading at her fingertips.
Those beads shattered and smeared under her touch.
Just like the name she dared whisper only now, spilling between her lips.
After Li Jia entered the bathroom, Ye Chengxing headed to the kitchen to prepare some ginger sugar water to chase away the chill.
It was simple to make: slice some ginger, add brown sugar, simmer together. She remembered rainy days from her childhood, when her family would brew it for her—a warm, nostalgic hue to the broth.
Knowing Li Jia liked things sweet, she added extra sugar. Once done, Ye Chengxing tasted it; the flavor was just right. She set it to keep warm, ready for when Li Jia finished her shower.
Li Jia was taking longer than usual today—much longer. Just as Ye Chengxing debated calling out to her, the bathroom door opened.
Despite the hot shower, the Omega looked even more drained, even coughing twice.
Ye Chengxing ladled the ginger sugar water into a bowl and brought it over. “All done?”
As she spoke, she reached out to touch Li Jia’s hand.
Still a bit cool.
Li Jia let her feel her body temperature, leaning in cooperatively. Aside from the white peach sweet scent, she carried only the fragrance of the shower gel Ye Chengxing always used. “All washed up. Hair’s dry too.”
Ye Chengxing checked again. Aside from the tips still being a little damp, it really had been blow-dried. Still, she couldn’t quite relax and grabbed the hairdryer to tend to the ends herself.
As she dried Li Jia’s hair, Ye Chengxing couldn’t help thinking about how her hands were still so cold even after a hot shower. Her poor circulation must be worse than she’d realized—especially since she’d gotten soaked in the rain today too.
The realization only deepened Ye Chengxing’s guilt.
She ran her fingers over the Omega’s now-dry ends, then picked up the comb from nearby. Leaning down slightly as she worked it through Li Jia’s hair, she said softly, “Once we’re done here, you should have some ginger sugar water. I already made it for you.”
They sat facing a wall beside which stood a full-length mirror, reflecting their figures in perfect clarity.
One stood, one sat. The Alpha’s slender, elegant hands wielded the comb, her long hair cascading down as she patiently teased through the strands of the Omega before her. A few locks of her own hair drifted forward, nearly brushing the Omega’s shoulders.
Li Jia stared at the scene in the mirror. For a fleeting moment, it felt as if she and Ye Chengxing were already locked in something far more intimate.
But… obviously not.
She blinked the delusion away, curving her eyes into a smile as she picked up the thread of conversation. “Ginger sugar water? I’ve never tried it.”
Ye Chengxing wasn’t surprised. The recipes in this world were scarce to the point of absurdity—simple things the upper echelons hoarded through control and indoctrination, literally monopolized in every sense.
“Then give it a taste later. I like it well enough.” She paused, hesitating. “Though I suppose it’ll depend on how it strikes you.”
She’d made plenty of ginger sugar water, but only one bowl sat served on the table for now, still steaming gently.
The ingredients were minimal, but the brew had come out a deep, rich color.
Ye Chengxing worried that Li Jia, having never had it before, might balk at the murky shade. She opened her mouth to reassure her—but before a word could escape, Li Jia had already lifted the bowl and taken a sip, utterly without suspicion.
It happened so quickly Ye Chengxing hadn’t even had time to speak.
She recalled the early days after her arrival, when Li Jia’s wariness had run bone-deep—a primal instinct for self-preservation, lurking beneath whatever surface trust they managed.
The memory brought a soft chuckle from Ye Chengxing. Teasingly, she said, “You didn’t even glance at the color. Not afraid I slipped something in?”
Li Jia’s gaze upon hearing this was profoundly complex, layered in ways Ye Chengxing couldn’t decipher.
Her words weren’t wrong, after all.
The old Li Jia—the one from long ago—might never have grasped what drove her now. But this person, whom she’d never dreamed could exist in their world, had shattered her walls of ice. She’d let her guard down. She’d dared to trust.
The look lingered only a few seconds before Li Jia buried it once more. Her lips parted, and she murmured something faint.
Faint enough that Ye Chengxing didn’t catch it.
“What was that?” she prompted. “I didn’t hear.”
Li Jia’s eyes lifted from the bowl of ginger sugar water. She offered Ye Chengxing a smile, sidestepping the question. “Nothing. Just that my sister’s ginger sugar water is so sweet and delicious. I love it.”
