Chapter 38: Explanation

It was already past noon by the time they pulled into Yuning.

Gu Yu rested her chin on her hand, gazing at the Jinzhou Road street sign as a wave of dazed nostalgia washed over her. When they’d left, her mind had been consumed with ways to use this trip to grow closer to Jiang Bomu. Now, returning, everything felt changed.

In just five short days, she’d lost count of how many times they’d sulked and how much silent frustration she’d swallowed. All her beautiful plans had crumbled into nothing. She didn’t even know if sharing a bed could continue.

With a desolate expression, she gazed into the distance. Yuning was overcast, too, casting a shadow over her heart.

As they drove into Yue’an Mansion, her rumbling stomach momentarily scattered some of the melancholy. Besides a piece of bread in the car, she hadn’t eaten a thing all day and was ravenous.

Just as she was opening a food delivery app, still mentally kicking herself for all her pointless moping—would it have killed her to order a minute earlier?!—Jiang Bomu glanced over and saw her phone screen. She gently stopped her. “I’ll cook something.”

Gu Yu was surprised. “Aren’t you tired?”

“It’s alright.” She paused. “Just not sure if the stuff in the fridge is still good.”

Back in the familiar apartment, Jiang Bomu went to inspect the fridge. Gu Yu stood in the entranceway, feeling a bit dazed, as if she’d just returned from a long time away. The last five days felt like a dream.

“Xunxun, do you want noodles or rice?”

The question yanked Gu Yu back to reality.

Sharing a bed wasn’t a dream. And Lin Sijia’s appearance… wasn’t a dream either.

“Rice, please.” Gu Yu walked over, scanning the ingredients in the fridge. “Let’s make tomato beef brisket soup, meat-stewed eggplant, and mapo tofu.”

That was the first meal she’d eaten here.

She tried desperately to maintain the same dynamic as before, picking up a tomato and saying with a smile, “I’ll help you prep.”

Gu Yu silently told herself: Lin Sijia was in the past. From today on, Lin Sijia would never appear again.

So, her way of interacting with Jiang Bomu wouldn’t change.

“Great. And this time, you won’t chop the tomatoes into all sorts of strange sizes like the first time, right?”

Jiang Bomu’s teasing voice drifted over. Gu Yu froze, her face instantly turning crimson. So she’d known all along!

“Alright, alright. Let’s just prep the ingredients,” Jiang Bomu said, laughing. “I’ll try to get lunch on the table before two.”

Gu Yu responded with a cheerful hum. She snuck a peek at Jiang Bomu, her heart fluttering with joy. Nothing really had changed, after all.

At 2:50 PM, lunch was served.

Gu Yu dug in heartily, finding a moment between mouthfuls to praise, “After so many days without cooking, your skills have actually gotten better.”

“You’re the only one who’d flatter me like that,” Jiang Bomu said, putting more food on her plate. “Eat more.”

“Aren’t you eating?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Watching Gu Yu eat filled her heart with a quiet sense of contentment, leaving no room for hunger.

Gu Yu sighed inwardly. Stars were just built differently. They could run on water and still have more energy than ordinary people.

Jiang Bomu rested her chin in her hands, watching her eat. When Gu Yu was about halfway through, she spoke slowly. “So, Xunxun, why were you angry last night?”

Gu Yu’s chopsticks paused mid-air.

She hadn’t answered in the car, so Jiang Bomu had just kept tickling her palm. To Gu Yu, that particular action was more of a reward than anything else, so she hadn’t resisted, letting Jiang Bomu have her way. Eventually, Jiang Bomu had given up, leaving Gu Yu the one feeling disappointed.

Remembering the sensation of their palms touching, a numbness shot through Gu Yu’s fingertips. Her chopsticks clattered onto the table.

Jiang Bomu raised an eyebrow. “What are you nervous about?”

“I’m not,” Gu Yu insisted, trying to sound composed. “I’m just sleepy.”

“Talking to me makes you sleepy?” Jiang Bomu looked hurt. “Am I that boring?”

“Of course not.”

“So, what was the reason?” Jiang Bomu asked seriously.

In her daze, Gu Yu thought for a second she was still asking about the sleepy comment. The words “because I want to sleep with you” nearly flew out of her mouth. She caught herself at the last second, stuffed a mouthful of rice to steady her nerves, and then answered. “I was right there in front of you, but you insisted on texting. It felt like you weren’t being honest with me.”

Jiang Bomu was taken aback. She said quietly, “I just…”

“You just what?” Gu Yu pressed.

A long moment passed before she finally forced the words out. “I’m just… used to not explaining. I don’t know how to put things into words. Texting feels more comfortable.”

Gu Yu was stunned. She’d never imagined that was the reason. “Why are you used to not explaining?”

Jiang Bomu fell silent.

Maybe it was because, in first grade, when classmates called her a motherless child and she tried desperately to explain, they hadn’t listened. They’d only gotten worse. Maybe it was because, in middle school, when a boy chased after her and the teacher made them both stand in the office as punishment, her desperate explanations fell on deaf ears. The teacher, enraged by her “talking back,” had called her parent. In front of everyone, the man she called her father had screamed that she had no shame. Or perhaps even earlier, when money went missing at home, and her father slapped her without even asking what happened…

She didn’t know how to tell Gu Yu. Because of these “little things” in other people’s eyes, she had lost the ability to explain.

Every attempt at explanation had only resulted in deeper wounds.

She didn’t want to expose these ugly scars to Gu Yu. So she just smiled softly and said, “The pure prove themselves.”

Gu Yu was baffled. What did that even mean? If the pure proved themselves, why bother explaining over WeChat at all?

“I’m getting a little sleepy, too,” Jiang Bomu said, standing up. “I’m going to rest.”

Gu Yu didn’t want to let her go. They weren’t finished talking!

But catching the red veins in her eyes, she nodded. The past few days had indeed been exhausting for her. Filming was grueling, yet she hadn’t complained once. In fact, her state seemed to improve with each passing day.

After finishing lunch quietly, Gu Yu yawned. Too tired to clean up, she went straight to sleep.

When she woke, it was early evening. She sat up groggily and suddenly felt a familiar, slow warmth seep out from beneath her.

Realizing what it was, she gasped, threw back the duvet, and saw the tell-tale stain. Aunt Flo had arrived!

She leaped out of bed, rummaging for pads while trying to remember when her last period was. She couldn’t recall. She’d never memorized those headache-inducing numbers.

But it was definitely about a month. Maybe even a few days late, which made sense. The non-stop rush on set, plus getting sick—it was no wonder it had been delayed.

There were no pads in her suitcase. She must have forgotten them. Naturally, she went to find Jiang Bomu.

She pushed open her door. The living room was already tidied up. Jiang Bomu was sitting on the sofa reading a book, a cup of black coffee at her hand. The picture of serene peace.

But Gu Yu had to shatter the beautiful atmosphere. “Sister, do you have any pads?”

Jiang Bomu, who had just lifted her coffee cup, froze. Her eyes darted quickly toward Gu Yu before she answered in a small voice, “Yes, I’ll get them for you.”

She headed toward the bedroom. One hand on her lower belly, the other bracing against the wall, Gu Yu felt her legs trembling, completely drained of strength.

A moment later, Jiang Bomu returned. Gu Yu took the pad and looked up to thank her, but froze. Jiang Bomu’s face was tinged with a faint, suspicious blush.

What was there to blush about?!

Too urgent to question it, Gu Yu rushed to the bathroom.

When she came out, Jiang Bomu had regained her composure. The blush from before seemed like a figment of her imagination. But Gu Yu was certain she hadn’t imagined it. She sat down beside her and asked seriously, “Why were you blushing?”

“Was I?” Jiang Bomu flipped a page of her book, voice indifferent, though her fingertips trembled slightly.

She didn’t want to dwell on this. She changed the subject. “What do you want for dinner?”

Gu Yu sighed. “My stomach hurts. I don’t feel like eating.”

She then remembered something. “Oh, right. My sheets are stained. Are there any spare ones?”

“Yes, in the closet in your room.” Again, Jiang Bomu’s voice was small.

Gu Yu looked at her, completely puzzled. Where was the unflappable, composed queen of the acting world? Why did she turn into a shrinking violet whenever anything period-related came up?

Gu Yu probed gently, “Do you have any overnight period pants?”

“What are those?” Jiang Bomu asked, confused.

Seeing her genuine lack of knowledge, Gu Yu eagerly explained. “They’re like adult diapers, but for your period. You can toss and turn all night without leaks. They’re great…”

“I get it,” Jiang Bomu interrupted, visibly uncomfortable. “I’ll go get you some later.”

Gu Yu blinked. “Sister, did you used to buy pads and always ask for a black plastic bag because you felt so embarrassed?”

Having been seen through so clearly, Jiang Bomu’s hand unconsciously tightened on the book page, crumpling it.

Her mother had passed away very early. With no female relatives at home, she’d had to figure out everything related to womanhood on her own. She had always felt it was something shameful, hard to speak of.

“But this is a completely normal thing,” Gu Yu said, confused. “We should be proud of it.”

It was just a mundane, ordinary fact of life. She didn’t understand why other girls felt this way.

In high school, her deskmate was the same—always needing a black bag for pads. And even then, she’d sneak and hide all the way from the supermarket to the dorm. Gu Yu had thought it was ridiculous. It was a dead giveaway what she was carrying.

After a few failed attempts to change her friend’s ways, Gu Yu just started buying the pads for her. She used a plain, transparent white plastic bag. That attracted far less attention.

“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” Jiang Bomu said, standing up. “I’m going to the store.”

“No need. Let’s just go together tomorrow.” Gu Yu, holding her lower abdomen, retreated to her room. “I’m going to rest. You should get to bed early, too.”

Twenty minutes later, however, Jiang Bomu was knocking on her door, holding a bowl of brown sugar ginger tea.

“Drink this. It might make you feel a bit better.”

Gu Yu was in the thick of her discomfort. She cradled the bowl and slowly sipped the warm tea. Her stomach did ease up a bit.

Wanting to repay Jiang Bomu’s kindness, she said with mock seriousness, “Actually, I found a cat today. Do you like cats?”

Jiang Bomu didn’t believe her for a second. They’d been together all day; when had she had time to find a cat?

But seeing how earnestly she was playing along, Jiang Bomu played along, too. “Where is it?”

“Right here in my bed.” Gu Yu fumbled around under the covers. “Probably just shy. Let me go in and find her.”

A rustling sound came from the bed. Moments later, Gu Yu’s muffled voice followed. “Got her! I don’t dare move. Quick, lift the blanket!”

Jiang Bomu grabbed the edge of the duvet and pulled it back gently.

Gu Yu kicked her feet and popped her head out from the covers, wearing a cat-ear headband. She tucked her hands in front of her chest, squinted her eyes, and meowed.

Jiang Bomu: “…Childish.”

She got up to leave. But as her hand touched the door handle, a smile she couldn’t suppress bloomed on her lips. She turned back. “Goodnight.”

Dazzled by that smile, Gu Yu blinked. “Goodnight meow~”