It felt too close, much closer than the night they first got together.
Each breath seemed to magnify in their chests, sometimes quickening, sometimes slowing, appearing urgent yet strangely patient.
A contradiction.
The air conditioning in the living room hadn’t been turned off, so even the entryway was warm. Neither had changed clothes yet. After embracing for just a few seconds, their body heat seemed to double.
Chi Shuo felt her mouth go dry. She swallowed lightly and subtly licked her lips.
She didn’t dare make any large movements because He Lindi’s lips were still pressed against her forehead. Though still carrying a hint of chill from outside, they felt searingly hot. Chi Shuo felt as if she might be scorched.
This couldn’t continue. Chi Shuo didn’t know if He Lindi would make the next move, but deep down, she wanted… to take the initiative herself.
Just as Han Yu had said, what was wrong with kissing He Lindi?
He Lindi was her girlfriend. A kiss wouldn’t hurt, right? Besides, she had fled in panic last time. Making up for it now wouldn’t be too late… right?
At this thought, Chi Shuo gathered a little courage and hugged He Lindi slightly tighter.
She slowly lifted her head. He Lindi remained still, her posture unchanged, and her lips slid down from Chi Shuo’s forehead to rest on the bridge of her nose.
At this point, Chi Shuo became even more nervous. She felt her breathing was completely erratic, and He Lindi wasn’t doing much better.
Once again, they both stopped moving, like two statues.
Only a small lamp was lit in the living room. They were still in the entryway, where the light barely reached, and neither had opened their eyes.
Another ten seconds or so passed before Chi Shuo finally opened her mouth. “I…” She realized her voice was a bit hoarse, but that didn’t stop her. “I think I’m going to proceed to the next step.”
As soon as she finished, she heard He Lindi’s low chuckle. “I’ve been waiting for what feels like a century.” Thinking that wasn’t enough, she added, “Your next…”
Unfortunately, she couldn’t finish the word ‘step.’ Chi Shuo had already accurately pressed her lips against hers.
…
During the morning meeting, Chi Shuo was somewhat distracted and sleepy. She had to force herself to stay alert to avoid being noticed by her supervisor. After the meeting ended, she sat at her desk, trying to slowly shake off the drowsiness.
But it didn’t work well. She still felt groggy and was about to slump onto her keyboard when Fang Xiuxiu promptly called out, “Shuo Shuo!”
Fang Xiuxiu’s voice wasn’t loud; she spoke close to Chi Shuo. The sound jolted the dazed Chi Shuo back to reality. She opened her eyes, turned her head, and saw Fang Xiuxiu’s worried face. “Didn’t you sleep well last night? It’s the first time I’ve seen you this sleepy.”
Chi Shuo nodded. “A little.” She raised her hands to rub her eyes. “I’ll go get a cup of coffee in a bit.”
Fang Xiuxiu replied “Okay,” then continued with her own work.
The “New Life” event was finished. Now, with the beginning of the year and Chinese New Year approaching, the company remained busy. But no matter how busy, the company’s annual party would proceed as planned. The supervisor had announced in the morning meeting that the party would be held on the Saturday two weeks from now, urging everyone to prepare, as each department was required to present an act.
Chi Shuo remembered this part very clearly, because annual parties were incredibly boring to her, but she couldn’t avoid it as it was a tradition for most companies.
After drinking coffee, Chi Shuo finally felt a bit more alert. Just as she was about to focus on work, her supervisor sent her a WeChat message: 【Chi Shuo, come to my office for a moment.】
Chi Shuo’s eyebrow twitched. Her intuition told her it was about the annual party.
Sure enough, just as she entered the office and closed the door, her supervisor’s voice filled the room. “Chi Shuo, you know why I called you in, don’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, she continued, “About our department’s performance for the annual party—I’d like to put you in charge.”
Chi Shuo had attended last year’s party too, but hadn’t been heavily involved. She basically slacked off—no, wait, their whole department slacked off. The performance was very lackluster; they just did a set of radio calisthenics. Boss Lin had even scolded them laughingly afterward.
This year…
Chi Shuo pursed her lips and asked, “Do you have any suggestions then?”
They couldn’t possibly do radio calisthenics again, could they? Chi Shuo decided to ask the supervisor first, just in case she had other ideas.
“My suggestion is to perform radio calisthenics,” the supervisor replied with a serious expression.
Chi Shuo: “…”
She remembered now—it was the supervisor who had suggested radio calisthenics last year. A whole year had passed, and her idea hadn’t changed one bit.
She felt a headache coming on. “Okay, I’ll ask in the group chat then.”
“Alright.”
“By the morning meeting next Monday, I need the plan and proposal.”
Organizing these kinds of activities was always tricky. With so many people involved, opinions were hard to unify. Everyone chiming in could easily lead to arguments over disagreements.
Chi Shuo complained endlessly inwardly but kept her expression neutral. Only after leaving the supervisor’s office did her composure slip. She went to get another glass of water, drank it, then asked in the department’s WeChat group: 【The annual party is on February 1st, which gives us two weeks. What performance should our department do? Any suggestions?】
The replies were basically all: 【None.】
Chi Shuo couldn’t help frowning. She had to present the plan to the supervisor at Monday’s morning meeting, which meant she had to decide within two days.
This task was truly exhausting, and Chi Shuo’s face remained downcast because of it, plain for anyone to see.
During the lunch break, Zeng Guai came over. Looking at Chi Shuo’s expression, she felt a pang of sympathy. “Shuo Shuo, don’t you feel like you’re doing a lot of odd jobs lately?” She thought back. “Seriously, it feels like you’re involved in everything.”
Chi Shuo herself was puzzled. “Really?”
Xia Zhou had already come to stand beside her. Seeing her confused look, she nodded: “Yes.”
Chi Shuo gathered her bag. “Sigh, guess I’m resigned to it.” She stood up. “If my colleagues still don’t give me an answer by tomorrow, I’ll just make the decision myself.”
“Okay,” Zeng Guai replied.
Xia Zhou patted her shoulder: “Good luck.”
The three hadn’t even left Xinyue’s main entrance when they saw He Lindi at the doorway. Zeng Guai’s smile was extremely bright. She nudged Chi Shuo’s elbow and lowered her voice: “How does it feel to have a girlfriend waiting for you after work?”
Chi Shuo replied in the same volume: “Very good.”
Xia Zhou clicked her tongue: “Later, I’ll make Ah Ke wait for me after work in the exact same pose.”
He Lindi wasn’t striking any particular pose, just standing normally. The corners of her lips lifted. “You three, what secrets are you whispering? Mind letting me in on it?”
Xia Zhou went “Ooh,” her expression exaggerated. “Just whispering something to Shuo Shuo gets us ‘interrogated’? Didi, aren’t you being a bit too possessive?”
Zeng Guai chimed in cooperatively: “Yeah!”
He Lindi raised an eyebrow, her smile spreading: “Good that you know.”
“We’re off to eat first, you two have fun.” Zeng Guai left these words and quickly dashed into an elevator with Xia Zhou.
Most people here had gone to eat, so there were few people around. He Lindi raised her hand and pinched Chi Shuo’s cheek: “Who upset you? Why so unhappy?”
Her touch was light. Chi Shuo’s cheek felt like soft, kneaded dough in her hand, the texture so nice it made her reluctant to pull away.
Chi Shuo’s lips pressed down. “This year’s annual party… I’m in charge of our department’s performance.” Her face fell into a frown. “Sigh, I really hate dealing with this stuff. In college, I deliberately avoided joining the student union or being a class officer because it seemed like too much trouble. Now that I’m working, I actually have to do it.”
He Lindi withdrew her hand and walked shoulder-to-shoulder with her towards the elevator: “So, have you decided on the performance yet?”
“Not yet.”
Actually, not everyone had to perform; one representative per department was fine too. For instance, in Chi Shuo’s department, someone had bluntly suggested in the work chat that they could just send her alone to sing, since she sang well.
Chi Shuo hadn’t agreed. One person representing an entire department was too much limelight. She refused, otherwise she might genuinely end up being secretly resented by some people.
He Lindi didn’t support her singing alone either. “You shouldn’t sing.”
They had reached the ground floor. They decided to eat out.
Only when the people around them had moved a little further away did He Lindi finally stammer, “Otherwise…” She averted her gaze. “…otherwise, don’t even think about kissing me.”
Chi Shuo’s gloomy mood from the morning instantly brightened at these words. She nodded. “I know.” She teased He Lindi, “After all, you only like me because I sing well.”
“Of course not.” He Lindi refuted it just as expected, but her next words made Chi Shuo’s eyebrow twitch. “That was just a moment my heart fluttered. What really made me like you was your ‘Woman, you’re so unique’ type of personality.”
Chi Shuo: “…”
Woman, you’re so unique?
Chi Shuo got goosebumps all over. Seeing her like this, He Lindi laughed to herself.
But her smile didn’t last long. He Lindi’s lips stiffened, because someone was standing right in front of them.
It was He Xiuqi.
Seeing He Xiuqi, Chi Shuo remembered what Zeng Guai had mentioned on the phone the previous night. She couldn’t help frowning, curious about why he was stopping them.
He Xiuqi stood very straight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. It was obvious he was nervous.
He nodded at Chi Shuo, then looked at He Lindi and called out: “Teacher He.”
He was looking for He Lindi, which wasn’t surprising.
He Lindi’s expression was indifferent: “Is there something?”
“Tomorrow, Friday, a highly-rated movie is officially premiering. Are you going to watch it?”
It had to be said, since confessing, He Xiuqi no longer beat around the bush. Before, he had even used Chi Shuo and the others as props.
He Lindi waved her hand: “Sorry.” She said, “No time.”
He Xiuqi opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word, Chi Shuo couldn’t resist cutting in. “He Xiuqi.” She wasn’t sure if she was about to lose her temper. “Since you’ve been rejected, just accept it gracefully. You can still save some face. It’s like back in school when you couldn’t write an essay—at least writing neatly would earn you a couple of extra points.”
The more she spoke, the angrier she became. He Xiuqi was stunned for two seconds before retorting, “Xiao Chi Jie, why do you have to meddle?”
Passersby cast glances their way, likely wondering why they were putting on such a love triangle drama right downstairs from the office building. Chi Shuo guessed at their thoughts.
He Lindi, however, frowned, staring intently at He Xiuqi. “Considering your age, I held back from saying anything harsh when I rejected you. But now, I’m finding it hard to restrain myself.”
He Xiuqi clearly guessed what He Lindi was about to say. He pursed his lips tightly, the word ‘angry’ practically etched onto his face. He said, “I have something else to do. I’m leaving first.”
The turnaround was so abrupt. Chi Shuo was stunned for a moment, watching his retreating back. “He just left like that?”
He Lindi nodded, then heard Chi Shuo say: “A bit awkward. He’s in the same department as me. How are we supposed to interact later?”
“It’s not hard to pretend you don’t see each other.”
“Besides, ordinary colleagues don’t interact much during work anyway.”
“True.”
Besides Xia Zhou and Zeng Guai, it seemed no one else at the company knew that Chi Shuo and He Lindi were dating.
They weren’t celebrities, so they didn’t need to make an official announcement about dating. However, maintaining some discretion was necessary. Their mutual understanding was: keep work and romance separate. It was better to stay low-key at the company.
Unless absolutely necessary, there was no need to broadcast to the world that her partner was the very person she used to clash with.
That evening, Chi Shuo posted a new drawing she had done. The subjects were still her and He Lindi. Her drawing skills had indeed improved significantly; looking at the picture now felt increasingly satisfying.
Just after she posted it, people on Weibo started reacting with ‘Ahhh!’
Chi Shuo suddenly remembered being featured on an artist-related Weibo account before. The person who submitted her work had tagged her as: Yuri Artist.
Looking at the tag, Chi Shuo hadn’t reacted immediately, then found it funny, thinking it seemed quite accurate. Wasn’t she a Yuri artist now? The subjects of all the drawings she posted were her and He Lindi. And it was precisely because of that feature that her follower count grew. Most of her followers were girls who liked girls; some had girlfriends, some were single, but they all had beautiful attitudes towards love.
Chi Shuo looked at the Weibo comments for a while, then pressed back. She was in her bedroom, and He Lindi, unsurprisingly, was still showering, just that it had been quite a long time.
Chi Shuo threw off the covers, got out of bed, and after opening the door, saw He Lindi already sitting on the sofa.
A towel was still wrapped around her hair. Her head was slightly lowered as she chatted with someone on WeChat.
Chi Shuo didn’t like prying, but she could tell from the interface it was WeChat. While using another towel to wipe the water dripping from He Lindi’s neck, she said, “Why didn’t you call me when you were done showering?”
“I went to reply to messages.” He Lindi looked somewhat excited.
Chi Shuo asked curiously, “Did something happen?”
“Miaoran said she’s pregnant.”
Chi Shuo went “Wow!”: “Really! Congratulations!”
Ding Miaoran had been married for several months now. Chi Shuo wasn’t worried about anything—not because she was overly magnanimous, but because there truly was nothing to be concerned about.
She had always been open-minded and straightforward. It was unrealistic for someone to only love one person their entire life. If He Lindi had liked others before her, Chi Shuo actually found that more believable.
How could there be so many ‘lifelong soulmates’ in the world? It wasn’t uncommon for people who loved deeply to break up and find someone new. Otherwise, would you have to confine yourself, forbid yourself from loving again, and condemn yourself to eternal damnation if you did?
There was no need for so many self-imposed shackles. The present moment was what mattered most. Dwelling on the past or worrying about the future seemed largely pointless.
He Lindi’s family situation was somewhat complicated. Chi Shuo didn’t know the specifics, but she knew her own family well. If her mother discovered the real reason she resisted blind dates so strongly, the two of them would likely have a huge fight.
Family issues were undoubtedly tricky for them. Chi Shuo wasn’t oblivious to this, but if she started worrying about a future that hadn’t happened yet, there would have been no point in starting this relationship.
“She also asked me to congratulate you.” He Lindi showed Chi Shuo the chat content on her phone. “Congratulations on getting together with me.”
So Ding Miaoran knew about her. Chi Shuo registered this information. Her lips curved upwards as she asked, “He Lindi, how did you and Ding Miaoran meet?”
He Lindi glanced at her warily. “Trying to dredge up the past?” She snorted lightly. “I’m not telling.”
Chi Shuo chuckled: “No, I’m just curious.” She took the towel off He Lindi’s head and started drying her hair. “Answer my question, and I’ll tell you a secret.”
“What secret?”
“Tell you after you answer.”
He Lindi put on a thoughtful expression, pondered for a moment, and said, “I think we met during an exam. Once, during a monthly test, she sat behind me. She forgot her pen or eraser, I don’t remember which. The teacher lent her mine. Later, she returned it… and that’s how we met.”
He Lindi’s hair was still quite wet. Chi Shuo stood behind the sofa, drying it for her. “And then?”
“And then…” He Lindi’s voice came to an abrupt halt. She turned her head to smile at Chi Shuo. “You haven’t told me the secret yet, and you want to trick me into telling the rest?”
Chi Shuo looked innocent: “Am I tricking you? I’m settling old scores with you.”
“Then I need to settle scores with you and…” He Lindi nearly blurted out Shen Qu’s name, quickly redirecting, “…Zeng Guai.”
Chi Shuo was amused by her jealous look: “What old scores do I have with her?”
“When I got back from Beijing, the elevator doors opened, and you were leaning right next to her ear.”
“If you had been a few seconds later, you wouldn’t have seen it.”
He Lindi was stunned for several seconds by Chi Shuo’s tricky remark. She blinked, incredulous: “Chi Shuo, oh Chi Shuo, you’re actually this kind of person. Isn’t this line of reasoning a bit too shameless!”
The smile never left Chi Shuo’s lips. She followed He Lindi’s lead. “Not necessarily, I have pretty thick skin.” She coughed lightly, her face turning slightly red. “Back then, for your sake, I really had thick skin.”
“When?”
“…I suddenly don’t feel like telling this secret anymore.”
He Lindi took the towel from her hand, knelt on the sofa, tilted her head back to look at Chi Shuo. “No way, you have to tell. You can be shameless, but you can’t be untrustworthy.”
Chi Shuo took the towel again, placing both hands behind He Lindi’s head to dry her hair. “If you don’t dry it or blow-dry it, what if you catch a cold?”
One person stood behind the sofa, the other leaned against it. He Lindi was originally slightly taller than Chi Shuo, but from this angle, Chi Shuo had to lower her head slightly to look at He Lindi.
The air conditioner hummed diligently nearby. The world outside the window had grown quiet. No one was disturbing them.
Chi Shuo slowly let out a breath and said, “In high school, a photograph you took won a significant award. The school praised you for it. Your work was exhibited, but daily entry was limited. Near the end of the exhibition, the security guard finally couldn’t bear it anymore and, moved by my sheer persistence, let me in.”
He Lindi caught the key information: “High school…?”
Chi Shuo’s eyes flickered evasively: “You heard wrong.”
He Lindi grabbed her arm, signaling her not to move, and continued asking, “In high school, did you want to get to know me too?”
Chi Shuo chuckled at her question: “I waited so long just to see a picture you took. Do you think I just wanted to get to know you?”
He Lindi’s eyes reddened slightly: “That early?”
“Yeah.” Chi Shuo pursed her lips, then confessed, “Later, I didn’t want to like you anymore. I felt liking you was too torturous for me. Back then, I thought, so many people liked you, I was just one you didn’t need to care about. What was the point of continuing such a secret crush?”
“Later, I realized that a secret crush, in itself, is meaningless.”
“Not every affection receives a response, and not every affection leads to a happy ending.”
Chi Shuo paused here, having draped the towel aside. “So, can you understand why I gave you the cold shoulder later?”
“Not really.” He Lindi knew she was playing dumb; she wanted Chi Shuo to say it herself.
Chi Shuo met her gaze, enunciating each word. “It was the unhappiness of liking someone I couldn’t have, the sadness of a secret crush leading nowhere, the anger at myself for lacking the courage to confess—there were too many reasons, and I took all those frustrations out on you.”
He Lindi curved her lips in satisfaction. She reached out with both hands, cupped Chi Shuo’s face, and said, “Then why are you with me now? Not angry anymore?”
“I think Zeng Guai was right.”
“What?”
“The person you liked at sixteen or seventeen easily awakens the little devil in your heart, the one that constantly whispers, ‘This is the person you like,’ like a form of brainwashing.”
“I think I might have been brainwashed.”
Chi Shuo paused here, leaning forward slightly. “But it doesn’t seem quite like that either.”
“Then what is it like?” He Lindi’s eyebrows lifted with a smile.
“Liking you again, for me, was inevitable, not accidental.”
“That’s all.”
He Lindi went “Ah”: “Then did you manage to?”
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