Chapter 26

The upstairs was pitch black.

Shen Jingsong descended the stairs slowly, each step landing heavily as the sensor lights along the edges flickered on one by one.

The light shone upward from below, illuminating her long dress in all its elegant dignity. Shen Jingsong’s skin gleamed whiter than snow, her proud eyes flashing with a piercing chill.

She was like a snowy owl lurking for the hunt at night.

Shen Jingsong spotted Kristin pulling Xia Zhuxi’s phone from the handbag. Kristin edged over to the coffee table and snatched up the phone, dangling its squirrel charm. By now, Shen Jingsong had already pieced together the truth behind that bizarre call filled only with breathing.

Kristin shot upright, tumbling off the sofa. Her foot slipped out from under her, sending one shoe flying.

The dirty pink Air Jordan skidded to a stop at Shen Jingsong’s feet.

A smear of damp mud clung to its edge. Shen Jingsong glanced down, a flicker of disgust crossing her eyes. They’d been living together for over two months now—she knew every pair of Xia Zhuxi’s shoes, and this wasn’t one of them.

Kristin scooped up the shoe and flashed her a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t know Xia had a girlfriend.”

Oh. Didn’t know.

Did ignorance excuse playing such dirty tricks?

Shen Jingsong’s face turned to frost as the mixed-race woman blocked the space between her and Xia Zhuxi, grinning with utter nonchalance.

“I’m not her girlfriend,” Shen Jingsong said, her voice cold and resolute.

Kristin’s smile widened, as if this were exactly the response she’d hoped for, her lips curving upward. “Is that so?”

She leaned in toward Shen Jingsong with roguish swagger. “Then breaking into someone’s home like this—isn’t that a bit inappropriate?”

Shen Jingsong’s expression remained stern and unyielding.

Faint night light spilled across the floorboards while Xia Zhuxi slept soundly, her breathing deep and even.

Just like that night at the engagement banquet.

That night, Xia Zhuxi had been dead drunk too.

The evening breeze had carried the scent of the city, orange flames dancing beneath the deep blue sky.

Their gazes had locked, burning with wild intensity.

—Marriage. Want to give it a try with me?

She still owed her an answer.

Shen Jingsong had pretended indifference, but only she knew the truth: beneath that surface of floating ice raged an unquenchable blaze.

The fire that had ignited back in March still smoldered in secret, never once fading.

Shen Jingsong’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the items in her hand—not mere objects, but a destiny she’d fought tooth and nail to claim beneath the sun.

And now, because of her own hesitation, she’d not only inflicted hidden wounds on Xiao Xi but allowed shoes caked with outside mud to track right into their home. How could she tolerate that?

She might be indecisive at times, but she had her reverse scale. Touch it, and madness followed. Once, that scale had been her own fragile dignity, hard-won with every struggling step. Now, it was Xia Zhuxi—the one who honored her dignity, who lit up the chambers of her heart, the object of her greedy desire to possess that light alone.

It was merely one indulgence of her private selfish urge. Xia Zhuxi had dared it at the engagement banquet, so why shouldn’t Shen Jingsong?

She would.

Shen Jingsong lifted her chin, gazing down imperiously at Kristin. “I am Xia Zhuxi’s—that role you could never hope to attain.”

She stood with impeccable poise, hands clasped gracefully at her waist, holding the snow leopard embroidered handbag and Xia Zhuxi’s phone.

The very picture of the household’s mistress.

A crack appeared in Kristin’s flippant facade, like fissures splitting through cracked lime. She wrinkled her nose, her eyes flashing with veiled malice toward Shen Jingsong—though she reined it in just as quickly.

Not a girlfriend, but some “unattainable role.” What could that mean? Could it be… her wife?

Kristin refused to buy it. “Unattainable how? Are you two married or something?” As long as there was no marriage, it was still a fair fight.

Shen Jingsong arched a brow. “What, Xia Zhuxi never told you?” She let out a light laugh. “Then again, Xiao Xi’s always so thoughtful toward me. She’s incredibly gentle.”

Kristin’s frame trembled faintly. When her eyes lifted to Shen Jingsong again, they burned with hatred and resentment. She’d signed on with Feilian for Xia Zhuxi’s sake…

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Kristin said, her bravado crumbling as she feigned the concern of a caring colleague. “Xia was too drunk to drive, so I brought her home. I just wanted to look after her while she rested—is that so wrong?”

“Thank you for bringing Xiao Xi home,” Shen Jingsong replied. “And thank you for wanting to take care of her.” Her tone sharpened abruptly. “But draping yourself over her to strip off her last piece of clothing? That’s not happening.”

“What were you planning next? Just a reminder: taking advantage of someone while they’re drunk is a crime under the law.” Shen Jingsong’s anger swelled, her presence solemn and commanding.

Kristin turned to Shen Jingsong. “At tonight’s party, Xia was really upset. Do you even know what today—”

“I know,” Shen Jingsong cut in, her words slicing like a blade. “Car Team gathering, and you were the only one who didn’t drink? You threw back plenty at the F4 banquet. So why hold back tonight? Just waiting for a chance to drive Xia Zhuxi home?”

Kristin fell silent.

Shen Jingsong’s gaze pierced straight through her. “I’m very curious what you two usually chat about when working together—and exactly what you said to her at tonight’s party.”

Shen Jingsong’s voice rose. “Thanks for going to such lengths—snatching Xia Zhuxi’s phone without permission and hanging up on my call!”

Kristin stared fixedly at the embroidered pouch in Shen Jingsong’s hand. She nodded with a self-mocking smile that tasted bitterly forced. “I finally get it now. So no matter what tricks I pull, they’re pointless. I’ve been losing from the very start.”

“What do you mean by that?” Shen Jingsong watched her coldly, curious what ploy she had in mind.

Kristin pulled a sour face and reluctantly picked up the ink-green paper bag from the floor. She slapped it against Shen Jingsong, who caught it deftly. She recognized it at a glance.

Xi Wan.

The embroidery brand Shen Jingsong adored. After F4 ended at Liulin Airport last time, she had wanted to buy Xi Wan’s new item, but it had sold out.

Xia Zhuxi had been waiting outside the store back then…

Shen Jingsong opened the paper bag and unpacked the elegant box.

Nestled safely in the exquisite velvet lining was the limited-edition pouch she had wanted but failed to buy.

Kristin slumped against the wall, her body going limp. “That girl.” She pointed at Xia Zhuxi, who lay fast asleep on the sofa. “She was hugging a tree and puking her guts out on the roadside. She spotted a clothing and accessories shop across the street just about to close and dashed right in. Insisted on buying this bag.”

Shen Jingsong caressed the embroidered surface of the pouch, as if she could still feel the warmth left behind by the person who had bought it.

Kristin scowled fiercely. “Tell me, she’s so blackout drunk she can barely string two thoughts together, but she remembers this one bag crystal clear?”

“I asked her why. She hugged the bag, plopped down on the curb, stared up at the sky, and said she couldn’t see the moon tonight.”

“I was like, what the fuck does a bag have to do with not seeing the moon?”

Kristin ducked her head and stretched out her arm to point at Shen Jingsong. The embroidered pouch Shen Jingsong had been holding earlier sat on the coffee table, its Xi Wan logo right next to the one on this new bag.

“Now I get it,” Kristin concluded. “‘Moon’ likes it.”

Shen Jingsong lowered her gaze. Embroidered boldly on the limited-edition pouch was a crescent moon, its silver tassels swaying lightly like waves lapping at the seashore.

On some moonlit night, Xia Zhuxi had cupped seawater in her hands and placed the moon into her palm.

—The moon likes you. I like the moon.

Shen Jingsong gripped the Crescent Moon Embroidered Pouch tightly, her brows knitting together as heat surged in her eyes.

Xia Zhuxi, I like moonlight.

Do you know the moon’s light comes from the sun?

Xia Zhuxi.

Do you know?

Whose sun are you?

~~~

Headache.

Total blackout from the booze.

Hadn’t she been in the bar’s private room with Captain Jin and the others? How was she at home now?

Xia Zhuxi clutched fistfuls of her hair, balled her hand into a fist, and rapped it against her scalp. Suddenly, she remembered arguing with Kristin during the depth charge drinking game—that bitch had called Shen Jingsong a slag and secretly spiked the drinks. Damn it!

Xia Zhuxi hadn’t drunk much before dizziness set in. At first, she figured the liquor was bad and swapped it all out, but she still felt woozy. The later it got, the more suspicious it seemed. She discovered knockout drugs stashed in Kristin’s bag, whipped out her phone to call the cops, and then the drugs hit her full force.

This needed serious handling. She’d called Chu Yun first thing to fire Kristin—that lowlife scum.

No idea what time she got home.

Before the drugs kicked in, Xia Zhuxi had called a trusted designated driver. That must’ve been who brought her back.

When she lived with Shen Jingsong, Xia Zhuxi had promised never to spend the night out unless work ran late—and even then, she’d be home by eleven at the latest. Shen Jingsong had moved out, but Xia Zhuxi still kept that promise.

What time was it now? The sky was still dark; she couldn’t have slept too long.

Xia Zhuxi pressed her throbbing temples and groped around on the sofa for her phone.

Her fingertips brushed something soft and fuzzy.

Xia Zhuxi froze and blinked her bleary eyes open.

It was the Little Squirrel from her phone.

Why was it bouncing around?

Oh—a fair, slender hand was holding the plush toy.

~~~

Wait—a fair, slender hand?

Why did it look just like—

The floor lamp switched on to its lowest setting, spilling soft light.

The Little Squirrel hopped away slowly, and a soft hand settled into her palm, cool to the touch.

Scent of snow.

A faint, fresh fragrance soothed the pounding in her head and the irritation in her heart.

“Shen… Jingsong?”

Before she finished speaking, a cotton swab soaked in water touched Xia Zhuxi’s parched lips. Gently, slowly, it moistened and spread the hydration. Only once her lips had absorbed the water did Shen Jingsong hand her a cup of hangover-curing ginger tea.

Xia Zhuxi took in her face: brows and eyes like a delicate painting, full lips glossed with soft peach lip gloss. So beautiful.

“Looking for something, Xiao Xi?” Shen Jingsong asked softly.

“Uh… the time.” Xia Zhuxi wondered if she was still dreaming.

Wait, no.

Her phone—to check the time.

Shen Jingsong said, “Not right now.”

Xia Zhuxi: “Why?”

Shen Jingsong gently cupped Xia Zhuxi’s shoulders, her arms loosely encircling her as she held up a screenshot of the time on her phone.

Frozen forever at 23:59:59 on the day of Xia Zhuxi’s birthday.

“Because our time stops right here.”

Shen Jingsong picked up the suitcase she’d left at the foot of the stairs. “Open it and see.”

Wasn’t this her moving luggage?

Xia Zhuxi pulled open the zipper in confusion, and white rose petals spilled out across the floor.

In the center of the suitcase lay a hand-embroidered Snow-Pattern Brocade Skirt, tied with a delicate Love Knot.

Xia Zhuxi froze.

This…

“It’s not moving luggage, is it?”

Shen Jingsong lowered her gaze. “No, it’s not.”

With careful fingers, she untied the Love Knot and fastened it to the skirt’s clasp. She gathered up Xia Zhuxi’s long hair, unfurled the gown, and draped it over her shoulders. “The house is just a house. Home is you. I have a secret base where I’ll move our home to.”

Shen Jingsong’s fingertips brushed against Xia Zhuxi’s. “Where I’ll move you to.”

Xia Zhuxi gazed at her, lost in a deep, hazy daze.

It had to be a dream.

A dream filled with everything about love: roses, embroidered skirts, home, and you.

Shen Jingsong “moved” Xia Zhuxi to her secret base.

The Underground Karting Track beneath the Silver Moon Bay Club lay dark and silent. Xia Zhuxi kept her eyes closed, holding Shen Jingsong’s hand as she followed her into the vast, empty space.

A chill breeze brushed her face, gradually pulling Xia Zhuxi back to awareness.

She gripped the only source of warmth in her hand tightly. “Sister Jingsong, why do I feel like… this isn’t a dream?”

Shen Jingsong smiled faintly and pulled a remote control from her sleeve pocket.

A cascade of photo posters descended slowly from the track’s overhead ring, chronicling Xia Zhuxi’s journey from her first karting race as a young girl to her first Formula victory—F4, Formula 3, F1. There she was, hoisting trophies, perched on the nose of her car, smiling at the camera, sprinting across the finish line…

And there were the candid shots Shen Jingsong had taken of her daily life, every little moment captured here.

Shen Jingsong tickled the palm of Xia Zhuxi’s hand, her voice clear and bright like a silver bell. “Is it a dream? Open your eyes.”

Wearing the long skirt handmade by Shen Jingsong, her fingers intertwined with hers, immersed in the night scented with snow, Xia Zhuxi slowly opened her eyes.

Countless colorful heart-shaped glowing balloons lit up the pitch-black track.

Each one flickered like a heartbeat, scattering like startled fireflies in a romantic swirl.

Xia Zhuxi’s eyes sparkled with neon lights, her lips curving into a smile. She didn’t know where to look—everywhere was enchanting, dreamlike, as if she’d stepped from one dream into another.

Bzzz—

Far ahead on the track, a tiny orange shadow appeared.

It hummed along the path marked by the photo display of her growth, racing swiftly toward them.

At the center of the track, the final massive poster was a photo of Xia Zhuxi and Shen Jingsong together in the botanical garden, admiring the roses.

Xia Zhuxi’s pupils dilated as a platinum model car identical to one of her race cars drove toward her. It executed a graceful turn and stopped at her feet. Shen Jingsong opened the tiny door and retrieved a exquisite jewelry box from inside.

“Xia Zhuxi.”

Xia Zhuxi turned, and there was Shen Jingsong, her eyes bright and lips glistening, holding open a choker necklace. A diamond-encrusted Snowflake Pendant gleamed brilliantly under the lights.

Shen Jingsong drew closer, her warm, scented breath caressing Xia Zhuxi’s earlobe. Xia Zhuxi held her breath. “Happy birthday.”

Tonight, time stood still. Just you and me.

It chronicled your path of growth, forever by your side.

Their toes touched, high heels rising shyly on tiptoe before parting.

Xia Zhuxi’s pupils quivered, her lips shimmering peach-pink in the rippling light.