Gu Yu had another dream.
She dreamed she was floating among the clouds, free to grab large handfuls of them whenever she liked. She chose one that was a riot of colors, like the twilight colors of dusk, drawing her in, making her want to get closer.
She reached out to touch it. It was soft and plush, even giving off a fragrance, the scent that always clung to Jiang Bomu.
Unable to resist, she took a deep breath. The scented cloud, startled, drifted away in a flash.
Why so shy?
Gu Yu commanded the cloud beneath her to give chase and wrapped the colorful cloud in her arms again.
The cloud struggled a few times, then went still.
That’s more like it, she thought, and fell into a deep sleep.
She slept soundly, but Jiang Bomu couldn’t sleep at all. She carefully lifted the blanket and looked at Gu Yu, who was clinging to her like an octopus, sighing softly.
Everything else was tolerable, but the position of Gu Yu’s face was a bit too precarious. Though flustered, Jiang Bomu didn’t even dare to take a deep breath, terrified she might touch somewhere she shouldn’t.
Fine, she’d endure it. After all, Gu Yu was still sick.
Jiang Bomu closed her eyes, but the warm breath was like a shadow, turning into a searing mist, burning right over her heart.
A night hard to endure.
At the first light of dawn, Gu Yu slowly awoke.
She lifted her heavy eyelids, her blurry vision making out a patch of white, glowing with a particular luster in the dim light.
What was this?
Instinctively, she reached out a hand and poked it curiously. Soft, springy, and warm, just like a freshly steamed white bun.
A second later, a hand caught her mischievous one. A voice came from above her head, strained with forced calm: “Xunxun, don’t touch.”
Belatedly, Gu Yu responded. Her vision finally cleared. By the light filtering in from above, she focused her gaze and stared. For a long, silent moment.
She heard a “thump, thump, thump” echoing in her ears. She didn’t know whose heartbeat it was, amplified until it was deafening.
A second later, she couldn’t help but swallow. A thought she couldn’t dare to name sprouted in her heart, instantly growing into a towering tree.
“Aren’t you suffocating under the blanket?”
In the long silence, Jiang Bomu spoke.
Gu Yu immediately scrambled to poke her head out from under the covers. She couldn’t quite see Jiang Bomu’s position and just surged upward.
Their noses touched. Their lips were less than three centimeters apart, their breath intertwined.
At such close range, Gu Yu could clearly see the fine, downy hair on Jiang Bomu’s face and her long, curling eyelashes. Jiang Bomu blinked slowly, her eyes carrying surprise and a hint of panic. A visible flush, the color of roses, spread across her face, even staining the corners of her eyes red.
Sharing a bed was already intimate enough. This current moment added a fire that would never be extinguished.
Gu Yu had never been in a relationship, yet facing the person she liked, she instinctively raised a fingertip and gently hooked it under Jiang Bomu’s chin. She murmured softly, “Sister…”
She slowly leaned in.
Jiang Bomu snapped back to her senses at the sound of “Sister.”
This was Gu Yu.
This was Grandma Qiao’s granddaughter.
This was the guest staying in her home.
Jiang Bomu immediately turned her face away. The kiss landed on her cheek—light as a feather, yet carrying an undeniable heat.
She sat up, not caring about the shoulder strap that slipped down in the rush. Lowering her eyes, she said, “Xunxun, you have a fever. You’re not thinking clearly.”
She was making an excuse for their near miss.
Gu Yu sat up, too. She pinched the thin strap and settled it back onto Jiang Bomu’s shoulder. Meeting her eyes directly, she said firmly, “I’m perfectly clear-headed.”
The days were long. She had originally planned to slowly nurture her feelings with Jiang Bomu, but now she couldn’t wait another moment. Lin Sijia’s appearance had triggered an unprecedented sense of crisis. She couldn’t forever stay branded as a “little sister” with just minor teasing. She wanted to be Jiang Bomu’s girlfriend.
Jiang Bomu still kept her eyes lowered, pondering how it had come to this. Her mind was a mess; she couldn’t sort out any train of thought. Instinctively, she changed the subject. “Let’s take your temperature first.”
Gu Yu pursed her lips. She wanted to pour out everything in her heart. Since they’d already kissed, what was the point of hiding her feelings any longer?
She took a deep breath and said bluntly, “But I need to tell you something.”
“There’ll be time later,” Jiang Bomu said, avoiding it. “We start early today. I have to be on set soon. You focus on recovering.”
With that, she pressed the thermometer into Gu Yu’s hand. Before Gu Yu could react, she hurried out of the room, her back a picture of flustered escape.
The door clicked shut. Gu Yu came back to herself. Was she so unwilling to hear her out? Or was she just avoiding her feelings?
She looked down at the thermometer in her hand, still carrying a trace of warmth, and her smile was strained.
How could Jiang Bomu, usually so meticulous, forget that Gu Yu couldn’t even read this type of thermometer?
She couldn’t help but wonder… had Jiang Bomu seen through her feelings long ago? Was she just trying not to hurt her, maintaining this surface-level sisterly relationship where even half a step beyond was forbidden?
She sat there blankly for a long time until a WeChat notification sounded.
She put down the thermometer and checked her phone.
sunset: [Remember to take your medicine.]
sunset: [Ordered breakfast for you. It’ll be there soon.]
Gu Yu tossed the phone aside without replying.
Five minutes later, someone knocked.
Gu Yu shuffled unsteadily to the door. Her feet felt strange on the floor, and her head was still groggy.
She opened the door. The delivery driver had placed the food on the ground. She crouched to pick it up, and as she stood, she nearly collapsed headfirst. Only grabbing the wall saved her from a spectacular fall.
After recovering for a moment, her gaze fell on the door across the hall.
The door was tightly shut, exactly like the door to Jiang Bomu’s heart. Secured with one heavy lock after another. No fingerprint, no facial recognition could open it. The key had been thrown into the deep sea, never to be found again.
Gu Yu gripped her door handle and slowly closed it.
The takeout was delicious, but she had no appetite. Sticking to her principle of zero waste, she ate it all clean.
Once her stomach had settled a bit, she took her medicine and drank half a bottle of water to wash down the strange taste. Her eyes fell on the colorful candy wrapper left on the nightstand. On a whim, she folded it into a tiny, grape-scented origami crane.
On set.
The day’s filming progressed rapidly. The director called for a ten-minute break.
Jiang Bomu immediately asked Tao Tao for her phone, opening it with hopeful anticipation. But Gu Yu still hadn’t replied to her message.
Was she sleeping again? Or… was she angry at her?
She regretted her hasty escape. She hadn’t even checked Gu Yu’s temperature before leaving, so she didn’t even know if she was still feverish.
“Sister Mu, Lin Sijia is headed this way,” Tao Tao murmured a warning.
Jiang Bomu frowned and pocketed her phone.
“Sister, your acting has improved even more,” Lin Sijia said with starry-eyed admiration. “If only we could work together again!”
Song Zhiwei beside her nodded like a pecking chicken. A second project together! It had to happen!
Jiang Bomu remained silent. She’d made things perfectly clear yesterday. There was no reason for further contact. Why was Lin Sijia still clinging?
But mindful of the people around them, she said nothing. Instead, she told Tao Tao, “I want to sit down for a bit.”
Lin Sijia’s expression stiffened with embarrassment. Forcing a smile, she watched her walk away and didn’t follow.
Song Zhiwei was completely baffled. Were the lovebirds having a fight?
Tao Tao helped Jiang Bomu to a nearby umbrella for shade, secretly cheering inside. She stealthily sent Gu Yu a message: [Lin Sijia came again, but Sister Mu ignored her!]
Receiving the message, Gu Yu stared at it for two seconds. A surge of frustration rose in her. She angrily typed: [What does that have to do with me?]
Just before sending, she deleted it, word by word, and replied with a simple, neutral “Received” sticker.
After a moment’s thought, she opened her chat with Jiang Bomu and started typing.
Jiang Bomu was already brooding over the fact that Gu Yu had replied to Tao Tao but not her. She casually tapped into their chat and happened to see the “Typing…” indicator. Her breath hitched slightly. Was Xunxun finally willing to talk to her?
