Chapter 89

Su Qingqiu was stunned for a moment. Suddenly, she felt like she could barely breathe.

Her heartbeat pounded so fiercely that it rang in her ears. She covered her face and slowly squatted down.

The floor-to-ceiling window reflected her face.

She had originally thought she would feel happy upon hearing those words, but an intense sense of rejection and unease made her want to flee far away.

Liking someone turned out to be such a painful thing.

Perhaps because Su Qingqiu had been silent for too long, Rong Jin asked softly from the other end of the line, “What’s wrong?”

Su Qingqiu didn’t want her to know about her current disheveled state. She said, “I’ll have my assistant send you Candice’s contact information. I have something to attend to, so I’ll hang up first.”

With that, she hurriedly ended the call as if escaping.

…

Su Qingqiu stayed in her office until it was nearly time to get off work in the afternoon. The sunset streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and as night gradually fell, she finally snapped out of her daze and drove home.

The sleek black Bentley merged into the congested rush-hour traffic of the city. Rows of red and yellow taillights flashed mottled lights on the road, reflecting in her eyes.

The skyline shifted from grayish-white to a translucent orange-yellow, the last traces of sunset sinking back into the horizon. The car grew dim; she didn’t turn on the interior lights. Her dark pupils stared quietly at the traffic ahead, her long eyelashes casting deep shadows on her eyelids.

At that moment, she wasn’t in any hurry to go home.

She didn’t know how to face Rong Jin.

She knew Rong Jin harbored feelings for her and had been indulging and tacitly allowing her to get close all this time.

The longer it went on, the more she could feel Rong Jin’s kindness toward her.

But the better Rong Jin treated her, the more unworthy she felt.

Sometimes, she thought of herself as a shameless bitch—disregarding Rong Jin’s own wishes, making her move into her home, taking care of her, deliberately creating an ambiguous atmosphere in hopes that Rong Jin would draw near. Yet when Rong Jin actually did, she put on a show of resistance and retreat.

What was that like?

It was simply toying with someone else’s emotions.

Utterly shameless.

Su Qingqiu lowered her eyelashes, gazing at the unmoving traffic ahead. The red light fell into her eyes, and she bit her lower lip as she picked up her phone to make a call.

“Dr. Ning, I’d like to come over now. Are you available?”

She exchanged a few words with Ning Xin and received an affirmative reply.

After the call, her phone ran out of battery and shut down.

The light turned green. She put her phone away and slowly drove forward a bit before making a U-turn, speeding toward Ning Xin’s Studio.

By the time Su Qingqiu arrived at Ning Xin’s Studio, it was nearly eight o’clock.

Only the night light at the entrance to the Small Garden was on, illuminating a small corner.

Ning Xin was waiting for her. When she saw the car pull up, she smiled at her and waved.

She had never received clients at this hour before; her student assistant had already gone home after work.

But Su Qingqiu was someone she had watched grow up. No matter how late, her door would always be open to her.

Ning Xin turned on the studio lights and had her sit down first. She went to brew a cup of tea and placed it in front of her.

Su Qingqiu said softly, “Coming over so late, I’ve disturbed you.”

Ning Xin smiled. “It’s fine.”

She pulled out her diagnostic record book, flipped to the next page, picked up a pen, and asked, “What made you come to me so urgently? Has something happened?”

Su Qingqiu was silent for a moment before slowly nodding.

In the past, when she was in an extremely chaotic state, even here, she hadn’t shared much with Ning Xin about Rong Jin.

After all, openly exposing one’s pain was an extremely difficult thing.

And she felt there was no need.

Later, after following Ning Xin’s advice and gradually taking the initiative to approach Rong Jin, she began sharing more.

Ning Xin was always gentle and patient. She was delighted that Su Qingqiu was willing to open up more.

She asked softly, “What happened?”

Su Qingqiu furrowed her brows, as if lost in confusion, and changed the subject. “Dr. Ning, do you remember what I once told you about my views on love at first sight?”

Ning Xin nodded. “I do.”

There had been a time when Su Qingqiu seemed desperate to break free from some psychological demon. She spent a long stretch holed up here, immersing herself in psychology books all day.

Unfortunately, a doctor couldn’t heal herself. Even after reading so many books and learning countless psychological theories, she still hadn’t found a way to overcome her inner demons.

Su Qingqiu had shared her thoughts on love at first sight with her.

Some people believed it was purely about looks—a face-con’s instinctive reaction, projecting sensory appeal onto emotions. That was the essence of love at first sight.

But Su Qingqiu didn’t see it that way.

She believed that feeling love at first sight toward a specific person stemmed from them perfectly matching one’s deep-seated psychological needs for love and hate. Tracing it further, it originated from early childhood understandings of intimate relationships and the entanglements of mother-infant bonds.

Just as childhood experiences shaped adult choices, influencing them subconsciously and invisibly, guiding decisions in the shadows.

So even if someone could relive their life, they’d likely follow the same path.

Intimate relationships worked the same way.

For example, if a person wasn’t properly loved by their parents as a child, lacking a sense of security, they might easily fall for someone with cold traits in adulthood.

Desperately craving parental love, they’d project their feelings onto someone with similar coldness, seeking that person’s affection—often ending in tragedy.

Repeatedly hurt, yet unable to stop the moth from flying into the flame.

Su Qingqiu had pondered this while gazing at Su Xijing’s little face, sleepless night after night thinking of Rong Jin, her head throbbing in agony.

Did she truly like Rong Jin?

She only realized her feelings after Rong Jin left, enduring a period of immense pain that made her feel insane in retrospect.

Sometimes, she wondered if her obsession with Rong Jin was for the person herself or, at its core, an obsession with pain.

True love was a luxury.

Mutual love between two people was exceedingly rare.

The world seldom granted perfect endings.

But her experiences with love had always been painful, never fulfilled.

After a decade of unrequited longing, she grew obsessive, irritable, temperamental—even secretly having Rong Jin’s child without her knowledge.

Only after Su Xijing’s birth did she seem to break free from that obsessive state.

If love was truly so painful…

What exactly was she loving?

Ning Xin suddenly realized something and said, “I finally understand why, last time you came, you said you weren’t sure if you liked her.”

She said seriously, “Part of your understanding of love at first sight is correct. But what you called an obsession with pain—I don’t think that’s true obsession.”

“Humans are creatures that seek benefit and avoid harm, with animalistic instincts. They don’t crave pain itself; they crave love from it—even the tiniest bit—yet remain unfulfilled, leading them to mistake the pain for the object of their desire.”

“You want her to love you, but after so long, you’re afraid of still ending up empty-handed, so you don’t dare let her love you anymore.”

“You’re using this theory subconsciously to evade your emotions.”

“In psychology, there’s a term: fearful-avoidant attachment. Yours is quite severe.”

Fearful-avoidant attachment personalities craved stable intimacy but felt overwhelmed and wanted to flee when it actually happened—a very unhealthy relational pattern.

She asked, “Did her closeness make you feel uneasy and repelled, wanting to run far away?”

Ning Xin, with over thirty years in psychological counseling, hit the nail on the head.

Su Qingqiu was stunned, letting out a somewhat bitter smile.

So that was it?

She nodded. “Yes, that’s why I rushed over to see you.”

Ning Xin asked, “What does ‘liking’ mean to you?”

Su Qingqiu looked bewildered.

The definition of liking?

If it was about Rong Jin…

She instinctively wanted to get close to her, care for her, gain her attention—even humbly craving her favoritism and affection.

Possessiveness grew wildly from there.

Unfortunately, it had never been fulfilled.

So it always felt painful.

Su Qingqiu slowly spoke, her voice hoarse and raspy. It felt like something impossible to say aloud.

She whispered, “…I want to have her.”

“I don’t know if it’s liking. I’ve never liked anyone else, only her. I want to possess her, make her see me, make her belong to me alone.”

“But I can’t even handle her getting close—I want to run away.”

She said softly, “…So what right do I have to say I like her?”

Ning Xin looked at her downcast eyes and sighed slowly and deeply.

Ning Xin softened her tone and said warmly, “Emotions are one of the primary factors distinguishing humans from animals, and while love stems from dopamine and hormones, it’s one of humanity’s greatest achievements.”

She said gently, “Liking someone means feeling happy just seeing them and wanting them to feel happy too—wanting to share new things with them first, to spend countless mornings and sunsets together, all the remaining years of life.”

“Qingqiu, relax first. Have some tea and think carefully: Do you want to be with her?”

Su Qingqiu stared at the rippling tea. The studio was quiet, the incense in the corner wafting a calming scent.

Her voice was soft and low: “…Yes.”

She said it with difficulty, yet exceptionally clearly, resoundingly.

“I want to be with her.”

Even if it brought resistance and unease.

She still wanted to get close.

To be together.

That was what she had dreamed of for so many years.

Ning Xin breathed a sigh of relief. “For your current state, I stand by my opinion: You’re subconsciously evading, using your theories to avoid facing the fact that you like her.”

She said, “Love is a luxury, yes, but deep down, you don’t believe you deserve it.”

“You think you’re unworthy of happiness, never daring to fight for what you want. But the subconscious can’t be controlled. You like her, and even if it’s uneasy, you still like her.”

She smiled. “When I suggested approaching her, didn’t you do well?”

“Qingqiu, remember what I told you: Be brave. You’ve done great—bravely taken the first step. Next, practice trusting her, accepting the intimacy you’re building.”

“Besides, so what if there’s pain? It’s part of love. Love weaves joy and sorrow, pain and disappointment—but mostly happiness, joy, and love itself.”

“Although this might be difficult for you, you have to learn to accept her and express your true thoughts.”

Su Qingqiu was stunned for a long time, until the tea in front of her gradually cooled.

She recalled many things, those she wasn’t too willing to think about again. They flashed through her mind like a slideshow.

She stood up and said earnestly, “Dr. Ning, thank you.”

…

Su Qingqiu drove home. By the time she reached the villa gate, it was already very late at night.

She quietly opened the door, placed her keys in the entryway with a faint clink that only emphasized the silence of the living room. Only a small lamp remained lit, illuminating a corner.

She glanced at her watch; it was past Su Xijing’s bedtime. She lightened her steps, intending to go upstairs and check if Su Xijing had fallen asleep.

She had just changed into slippers when the guest room door suddenly opened. Rong Jin wheeled herself out and immediately saw through her intentions. “Xixi should already be asleep. She told me that even if Mommy wasn’t there to tuck her in tonight, she’d be a good girl and sleep well.”

Su Qingqiu was still a bit worried. “I’ll go take a look at her.”

Rong Jin nodded.

Su Qingqiu went upstairs. She gently opened Su Xijing’s door and walked in.

Su Xijing was indeed asleep, lying under her pink little blanket, breathing softly. A holographic starry sky floated in the room, making it very peaceful.

Su Qingqiu walked over slowly, tucked in her blanket, quietly gazed at her little face for a moment, then closed the door and left.

She went downstairs. Rong Jin turned on the living room’s bright incandescent lights, and the glaring brightness made her shield her eyes.

Rong Jin asked, “Working overtime today? Why’d you come back so late?”

Su Qingqiu looked into her eyes.

Rong Jin had a pair of large, bright eyes. When she looked at someone seriously, it always gave the feeling of being cherished and valued. Back in high school, she had rarely noticed the way Rong Jin looked at her. At that time, she was entangled in many things, her heart filled with bitterness, and she never paid attention to others.

By the time she stopped looking, it was too late to turn back.

She had always believed that love was something very painful, a luxury that, once missed, was hard to reclaim.

But Rong Jin had turned back so easily.

And she didn’t dare to anymore.

She couldn’t disappoint Rong Jin again.

Su Qingqiu didn’t want to lie to her but didn’t know how to explain her late return. She stood there thinking for a while, but couldn’t come up with an excuse.

Rong Jin waited patiently for a bit, then found her standing there dazedly utterly adorable.

Rong Jin smiled. “Alright, if it’s not convenient to say, you don’t have to. Have you eaten dinner?”

But Su Qingqiu didn’t think so. Ning Xin had told her to work hard at expressing her true thoughts and accepting her, so she had to try.

She pondered for a moment, then told the truth. “I went to see a psychologist.”

Rong Jin frowned.

Why had Su Qingqiu gone to see a psychologist?

On second thought, most people nowadays had some psychological issues, and wealthy families had even more messes, which wore on the heart. Seeing a psychologist was normal.

Even she sometimes wanted to chat with one when she felt mentally exhausted.

Moreover, she knew Su Qingqiu appeared cold and distant on the outside but was actually sensitive and fragile. Back in high school, she’d even had suicidal thoughts.

So, talking to a psychologist was fine.

Seeing her expression change, Su Qingqiu quickly explained, “I have a habit of seeing my psychologist regularly. Today, I suddenly had a question I wanted to ask her. It’s nothing serious.”

Rong Jin looked at her.

She suddenly seemed especially honest today.

In the past, she might have gotten a evasive answer, or none at all—definitely not the truth.

What had happened suddenly?

Was it because she’d seen the psychologist?

That psychologist must be pretty good.

Rong Jin chuckled softly. “I didn’t say you couldn’t come back late…”

“Why are you suddenly so honest today?”

Su Qingqiu: “…”

Faced with Rong Jin’s words that sounded like teasing, she never knew how to respond and was even more speechless. Her ears quietly turned red.

It sounded like she was never honest enough.

She probably really never had been honest enough.

Su Qingqiu: “I…”

But expressing her true thoughts was so hard.

Seeing her like this, Rong Jin didn’t tease her further and asked softly, “Have you eaten dinner?”

Su Qingqiu quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Only then did she remember she hadn’t eaten dinner—and in her daze at noon, she’d forgotten lunch too.

Her stomach let out a timely rumble of hunger.

Now even her face turned red.

The living room was very quiet, and under the bright lights, her flushed face was plain to see, with no way to hide it.

Rong Jin watched as a light blush colored her face.

Such thin skin.

But also very cute.

Afraid she’d get embarrassed and angry, Rong Jin suppressed her upturned lips and wheeled into the kitchen naturally. “You didn’t pick up when I called. Worried you hadn’t eaten, I saved some food for you. I’ll heat it up—you eat a bit first.”

Su Qingqiu then remembered her dead phone. She went to the sofa, plugged it into the charger. Two minutes later, it turned on automatically. She saw two missed calls from Rong Jin.

And three texts.

[Are you coming back for dinner tonight?]

[Never mind, I’ll save some food for you.]

[Drive safe, come home early.]

Su Qingqiu looked at the missed calls and texts. She knew she should feel happy, but that unease and resistance surged back every time she sensed Rong Jin’s closeness, making her subconsciously want to flee.

She couldn’t flee.

She had to accept Rong Jin.

She had to learn to build intimacy with Rong Jin.

Su Qingqiu took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, forcibly suppressing that resistance.

She got up and walked to the kitchen. She watched Rong Jin wheel herself around, putting the dinner she’d saved—along with rice—into a big bowl and into the microwave for two minutes.

The microwave hummed to life.

Su Qingqiu suddenly remembered that time Rong Jin had warmed milk for her, on a night like this. She’d said she couldn’t sleep and wanted some bedtime milk. Rong Jin had used a small milk pot in their rundown kitchen to heat it for her.

Those painful memories from over a decade ago seemed diluted by the good ones.

She could do this.

Su Qingqiu’s voice was very soft, her words not very fluent, stumbling a bit, awkward.

“My phone… died tonight, so I missed your call.”

“In the future… if I’m coming back late, I’ll… I’ll tell you in advance.”

“I’ll come home early.”

Rong Jin turned back in surprise.

Su Qingqiu stood at the kitchen door, eyes evasive, head lowered, not daring to look at her.

Her ears were red.

The microwave dinged as it finished. Rong Jin opened it, and the aroma of the food filled the air.

Su Qingqiu instantly felt starving.

Rong Jin placed the heated food on the table and handed her chopsticks.

“Eat up.”

Su Qingqiu took the chopsticks.

Rong Jin suddenly said, “Good.”

Su Qingqiu looked up at her.

Rong Jin smiled, her expression tender and gentle. “Come home early from now on.”

Su Qingqiu lowered her eyes and nodded.

In the many years that followed, Su Qingqiu kept her promise and never came home late without notice again.