Chapter 49: The Kiss

After Gu Yu said those words, even her breathing became careful and hushed.

Under the hazy lamplight, she stole glances at Jiang Bomu’s expression. She’d expected at least a trace of shock or surprise. But on that pristine, fair face, there was only understanding and calm.

As expected. She already knew. Gu Yu felt a sense of defeat. Her acting was still so clumsy. It never escaped Jiang Bomu’s discerning eyes.

Her heart ached with a heavy, sinking pain. She clearly knew, and yet pretended not to.

“Xunxun, do you really like me?”

Jiang Bomu’s voice pulled her back to reality. Gu Yu nodded. Though she already knew the result, a sliver of wild hope still sprouted in her heart. What if? What if Jiang Bomu agreed?

Under her expectant gaze, Jiang Bomu slowly spoke. “When filming, the leads easily develop feelings for each other because of the sweet storylines. ‘In-character romance,’ they call it. Once they realize the other person isn’t the character they played, they’ll gradually detach. We’re similar. Living under the same roof, spending most of our time together—having some fondness is normal. Once you leave, you’ll gradually forget me.”

Gu Yu tugged at the corner of her mouth, forcing a smile. Four years of affection, and she dismissed it with a single trivial phrase—”some fondness.”

Ignoring her lengthy lecture, Gu Yu asked directly, “Do you have any fondness for me?”

Jiang Bomu didn’t answer immediately.

She didn’t want to lie to her, but giving her hope was just adding fuel to the fire. So she enunciated coolly, “No. I’ve always treated you as a younger sister from the neighborhood.”

Younger sister from the neighborhood.

Gu Yu was pierced by those four cold, heartless words. She pressed her lips together and said softly, “Fine. Then reject me.”

She stared at those crimson lips. She propped herself up on her arms and slowly leaned closer.

Jiang Bomu’s gaze flickered. She turned her face slightly, but Gu Yu caught her chin and, without any hesitation, pressed her lips against those she’d been yearning for day and night.

Warm, soft lips. They shouldn’t be speaking such heartless words. They should only be letting out the sweet, muffled sounds of stirred emotions.

Gu Yu licked and kissed the lips repeatedly, nibbled and pressed against the lip bead, yet she couldn’t pry them open. She gave up and moved to kiss her nose tip, sliding from her fluttering lashes all the way to her delicate earlobe.

Jiang Bomu endured the sweet torment. She wanted to push her away but couldn’t bear to. She simply closed her eyes.

With her visual system paralyzed, all her other senses became extremely acute. She could hear the soft, panting breaths right beside her ear—a raw, inexperienced sexiness that clutched the ear. She could smell the citrus scent of the body wash, seeping from Gu Yu’s body. She could feel the soft body pressed against hers, as if both left and right had grown hearts. Thump, thump, thump, thump… alternating back and forth, never ceasing.

“Sister, sister…”

Gu Yu was nearly crying from desperation, murmuring into her ear.

Jiang Bomu sighed inwardly and slowly opened her eyes, meeting those tearfully moist pupils.

“I really like you so much,” Gu Yu buried her face in the hollow of her shoulder, seeking warmth. “Do you know why there was so much water in the bathroom?”

Without waiting for Jiang Bomu to speak, she answered her own question. “Because I was thinking of you while touching myself. Wave after wave surged out of the tub. I kept hoping you’d push open that door.”

Jiang Bomu was struck speechless by Gu Yu’s boldness.

She had always been a conservative woman. She would never discuss these things with anyone, no matter how intimate the relationship. Yet Gu Yu spoke without any reservation. Her ear tips burned.

“You’re going to scold me now, aren’t you?” Gu Yu said, sounding pitiful and aggrieved. “You said once we’re apart, we’d forget. But I can’t forget. Liking someone—how can you control your own thoughts?”

She squeezed Jiang Bomu’s hand little by little, interlacing their fingers tightly.

“Sister, do you really not want to date me?”

Yes, she did.

But she couldn’t.

Jiang Bomu said stonily, “There’s a seven-year gap between us.”

She tried to use age as a shield, but Gu Yu didn’t hesitate. “Age isn’t a problem. As long as I like you and you like me, that’s enough.”

A twenty-year-old girl. How simple her thoughts on love always were.

Jiang Bomu said flatly, “It won’t work.”

“Why not?”

But she didn’t say anything. Gu Yu steeled her heart and spoke bluntly, “Just say you don’t like me, and I’ll never bring it up again.”

Thirty seconds. A minute. Two minutes…

Three minutes passed. Jiang Bomu said nothing.

Gu Yu’s desolate heart was slowly, point by point, illuminated. So… Jiang Bomu must have some bit of feeling for her too, right?

She raised her lips in delight, about to speak, when she saw Jiang Bomu’s eyes shut, her breathing slow and even.

Asleep.

Her heart plunged into an abyss.

So… she didn’t care about anything she said at all.

Gu Yu let out a low, humorless laugh. Her chaotic thoughts swirled. She forced herself to close her eyes.

When the breathing beside her grew even, Jiang Bomu opened her eyes, fully lucid.

She gazed at Gu Yu for a moment, her expression struggling. Finally, she reached out and gently tucked the strands of hair clinging to Gu Yu’s face behind her ear. On that fair face, only a few traces of dried tear tracks remained.

Xunxun, I like you.

But we can’t be together.

Jiang Bomu slept lightly. When the first light of dawn touched the horizon, she opened her eyes. She watched Gu Yu, still lost in sweet dreams, and Wan An, for a while. Then, carefully and quietly, she got up and left the second bedroom.

After washing up, she made a cup of coffee and sat on the sofa by the French window. Bathing in the first rays of morning light, she opened her script.

She had auditioned many times for this film. The director appreciated her acting and her popularity—she had her own fanbase, which would draw young women into theaters, making them wary of the ill-intentioned people around them.

But the director felt her appearance was too cool and aloof, not quite fitting the image of a “woman easily victimized.” Jiang Bomu had done a lot for this role, even willing to cut her own pay. She also sent the director a three-thousand-word essay analyzing the female lead’s emotional journey and her own insights. In the end, the director confirmed her for the role.

Jiang Bomu valued this film immensely, having begun preparation half a year ago. With filming approaching, her frequency of reading the script grew even higher.

It was also only when reading the script that she could, briefly, forget about Gu Yu, who stirred her heart so.

Jiang Bomu settled her mind and studied every word, every line.

When the sunlight outside the window grew increasingly blinding, there was movement from the second bedroom. Jiang Bomu looked up to see a white fluff ball darting out. It glanced at her, then lifted its tail and scampered toward the cat tree. With a mighty leap, its claws caught the edge, and it flipped onto its back, falling to the ground with all four limbs splayed.

Jiang Bomu couldn’t help but smile, though worry still filled her heart. She set down the script to check if she was hurt. Unexpectedly, Wan An had already jumped up. She cautiously sniffed Jiang Bomu’s hand, realized there was no danger, and finally settled down disdainfully.

How could it be so cute? Jiang Bomu rubbed her little head, her smile deepening.

Gu Yu grabbed a drink from the fridge, watching this warm scene while drinking. Yet her heart was irritable.

“Drinking ice first thing in the morning?”

Jiang Bomu’s voice came. Gu Yu cast her eyes down and sneered. She was at it again—plastering over the cracks, pretending nothing happened.

She retorted, “Aren’t you drinking coffee first thing in the morning too?”

“…To wake myself up.”

“Oh. Me too, then.”

Jiang Bomu didn’t say more and went to prepare breakfast.

To call it breakfast, but it was already past ten. She didn’t bother with bread and fried eggs and went straight to making rice.

Gu Yu, full of resentment, unprecedentedly didn’t go help. She took the cat teaser and played with Wan An.

The kitchen clanged and banged. The living room jingled and jangled. Together, they composed a song called the aroma of everyday life.

But Gu Yu’s heart held no thoughts of peaceful serenity. She looked out the window at the blazing sun and, for the first time, felt the urge to go home.

The person didn’t like her at all, couldn’t even be bothered to placate her. A failed confession meant you should just leave dejectedly. Staying here only made you more of a nuisance.

Go home. Go back to school. Like Jiang Bomu said—just forget it all.

But when the exquisitely prepared, delicious-smelling dishes were brought to the table, she looked at Jiang Bomu’s face, and the emotion of clinging reluctance spread uncontrollably.

How could she ever bear to leave?

She convinced herself. Jiang Bomu hadn’t brought up last night, hadn’t kicked her out. She still treated her exactly the same as before. Nothing had changed. She was the one overthinking it. These thoughts shouldn’t exist.

Persuasion successful, Gu Yu prepared to eat.

Just as she picked up her chopsticks, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the lit lock screen. It was a message from her mom. A picture, but the specific content wasn’t displayed.

She opened it curiously.

Her expression instantly tightened.

It was flight ticket information. The date was 8.26. Five days from now.

Her mom sent another message, a voice message. Numbly, she tapped it.

“Darling daughter, your dear mom and dad are coming home! So surprised, aren’t you?”