Rabbit? Kiss Me First

Li Xingqing quickly reached out and caught her, only then realizing the person in her arms was running a fever.

Through the soaked fabric, that heat felt like a lump of charcoal doused in rain—cold on the outside, still burning within.

She adjusted her grip, holding Xi Zhen close with one arm while the other went to feel her forehead.

Sure enough, it was scorching.

Li Xingqing glanced again at the mess in the room, clenched her teeth, stuffed the flashlight into her pocket, bent down, and lifted Xi Zhen into her arms before carrying her back to her own room.

Xi Zhen’s head rested in the hollow of her shoulder; her breathing was heavy, each exhale brushing hotly against Li Xingqing’s neck and tightening her chest.

The person in her arms was frighteningly light.

Li Xingqing even suspected she was carrying a skeleton. The outline that was usually hidden beneath loose clothing now pressed through the damp fabric against her arms.

A waist she could encircle with one hand was now exposed where the wet cloth had ridden up, revealing a small stretch of pale skin. Even in the dark, with only the sliver of light leaking from the flashlight in her pocket, she could make out the faint curve at the side of that waist; it was so thin it was almost painful to look at.

The one piece of good fortune was that although the power was out, the gas was still working.

The water in the bathroom remained at a suitable temperature, and steam rose little by little until the whole room turned hazy with mist.

Li Xingqing looked at Xi Zhen, whose consciousness was already slipping, and wrestled with herself inside her head.

Xi Zhen leaned against the edge of the tub, eyes half-open, her eyelashes wet with vapor, looking utterly innocent.

The pallor on her face had been warmed with a faint flush by the heat, but her lips were still dry, a thin layer of skin peeling at the surface.

In the end, Li Xingqing drew a deep breath and, in the spirit of letting desire be emptiness, gave Xi Zhen a bath.

She moved quickly, trying not to think about anything she shouldn’t; her eyes stayed fixed on a water stain on the wall as she treated the bath like a task that simply had to be completed.

Fortunately, Xi Zhen was very obedient at this point. Even when water hit her body, she didn’t react at all; only now and then she would furrow her brows, as if something in a dream had gently tripped her up.

After carefully settling the other woman onto the bed, Li Xingqing finally remembered to change out of her own soaked clothes. The wet fabric clung to her body; it had been cold for so long that she no longer even felt chilled.

She found the medicine kit, crushed a fever reducer, mixed it with warm water, and fed Xi Zhen spoonful by spoonful.

Xi Zhen swallowed slowly; her throat bobbed once, paused, then bobbed again, as if she were resisting it.

After the medicine was done, Li Xingqing wrung out a warm towel and laid it over her forehead, then pulled the blanket up to cover her shoulders.

By the time everything was finished, Li Xingqing was utterly exhausted.

She leaned by the bed, sent Bai Mo a brief message saying they were safe, then pressed herself against the bedside and silently looked at Xi Zhen on the bed.

The moment the phone screen dimmed, the room was swallowed by darkness again.

Listening to Xi Zhen’s breathing, Li Xingqing didn’t know when she had fallen asleep.

That was the sight Xi Zhen woke to the next morning.

She was lying in an unfamiliar bed. Between the sheets was a faint, fresh fragrance of laundry detergent; not strong, but very familiar. It was the smell Li Xingqing usually carried.

Sunlight squeezed in through the gap in the curtains; a thin line fell onto the pillow, and onto her open palm.

And the owner of that smell was now sitting beside the bed, asleep in the posture of a guardian. Her head rested against the bedpost, and one hand was still draped over the back of Xi Zhen’s hand, fingers slightly curled, not letting go.

Xi Zhen moved a little; the blanket slid down, and only then did she lower her head and see the clothes she was wearing.

An oversized white T-shirt, the neckline loose and slouching, the sleeves hanging long enough to cover half the back of her hand; it was Li Xingqing’s.

She froze, then slowly recalled the broken, disconnected fragments from last night.

Rain, darkness, the smell of smoke... someone had carried her, bathed her, fed her medicine.

And now she was dry, her hair fresh, the bed warm beneath her.

Xi Zhen couldn’t help laughing softly. It wasn’t embarrassment, but rather admiration for how thoughtful Li Xingqing was.

One person in the bed had woken up; the other, as if by some telepathic connection, soon opened her eyes too.

Li Xingqing’s eyelashes trembled; she slowly lifted her lids. The process from dazed to clear was so short that Xi Zhen could barely catch it.

The newly awakened one saw Xi Zhen looking at her and froze. Then, as if burned by something, she quickly drew her hand back from Xi Zhen’s and hid it under the blanket.

The electricity still hadn’t come back; Xi Zhen’s phone was still off.

With nothing else to rely on, she could only look at Li Xingqing in a very serious way. She watched the red creep from the tips of Li Xingqing’s ears, inch by inch, until it spread to the lobes.

Li Xingqing, seeing her stare, thought she was bothered by what happened last night and began to explain in a flustered rush.

“Last night, when everyone counted heads, they found you weren’t there. Bai Mo still had to film today, so he asked me to come over first.”

The excuse was reasonable enough, but Xi Zhen knew Bai Mo too well.

On the surface, the two of them were assistant and artist; in truth, Bai Mo rarely interfered in Xi Zhen’s private affairs, much less got so anxious over just half a day of lost contact that he had to go looking for her.

Besides, only a few people knew that she was afraid of the dark.

And, inconveniently, Li Xingqing was one of them.

Still, since the child had gone to the trouble of explaining herself like that, Xi Zhen naturally couldn’t let her carefully thought-out excuse go to waste.

So Xi Zhen nodded, as if she had already forgotten how miserable last night had been, and said, “Then wasn’t it scary for little one to come all this way in the rain so late?”

Scary? To be honest, yes.

The storm, the blackout, the unfamiliar old house, and the unreachable person.

Taken together, they were enough to make anyone panic. But what Li Xingqing feared wasn’t the dark; it was that something might have happened to Xi Zhen.

Whether it was hearing that Xi Zhen might be alone in the old house or calling and not getting through, either one was far more frightening than any natural fear.

But now that it was brought up, Li Xingqing had no way to honestly lay her heart bare.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

Yet Xi Zhen was relentless, inching closer and closer, as if she wouldn’t rest until she got a satisfactory answer.

Li Xingqing retreated again and again until she had nowhere left to go.

The bed was small to begin with; she was already at the edge, and if she moved back any further, half her body would be hanging off it. Just as she wobbled and was about to tip over, Xi Zhen hurriedly reached out and grabbed her.

“Careful!”

Unfortunately, Xi Zhen used a little too much force, and with Li Xingqing’s body reflexively moving to protect her, there was a flurry of chaos before Xi Zhen ended up crashing neatly into Li Xingqing’s arms.

Li Xingqing was tall with a broad frame; holding Xi Zhen’s smaller body in her arms was unexpectedly just right.

Their positions had completely reversed in that instant. Li Xingqing turned sideways to pin Xi Zhen in her arms, one hand guarding her shoulder, the other wrapping around her waist below.

It was an extremely ambiguous posture.

Xi Zhen was pressed beneath her, surrounded by Li Xingqing’s scent.

She seemed captured by this person, unable to move, only able to let the other do as she pleased.

But Li Xingqing’s mind was equally blank at this point. The distance between them was far too close.

Close enough to see the curve of each other’s eyelashes; close enough to count the colors in the other’s eyes; close enough for their breaths to intertwine until it was impossible to tell whose was whose.

Aside from breathing, all that remained in her ears was the sound of their increasingly rapid heartbeats; thudding harder and harder, making one unconsciously close their eyes.

The impact of embracing each other while fully awake was even greater than it had been last night.

Clearly, they had already held each other more than once that night, but then Xi Zhen had been drowsy, and Li Xingqing had been tense, as if they were separated by frosted glass: the outline was visible, but not the details.

Now the glass had suddenly shattered, and everything was crystal clear.

Xi Zhen’s eyelashes, the fine lines at the corners of Xi Zhen’s eyes, the small patch of skin on her lips that had peeled from dryness.

Meeting Xi Zhen’s eyes, Li Xingqing suddenly realized that those amber eyes were especially enchanting.

She swallowed, her gaze slowly sliding across Xi Zhen’s face—from brow to nose, from nose to the corners of her mouth, and finally landing on her lips.

Xi Zhen was clearly more aware of their current state than Li Xingqing was.

From the fact that she hadn’t immediately called for them to stop, one could tell that she had long since adopted an indulgent attitude toward everything Li Xingqing did.

Their distance grew smaller and smaller, until they could feel the thin warmth of each other’s lips.

Then, suddenly, an urgent phone call rang out, breaking the moment apart.

It was Li Xingqing’s phone. As if struck by lightning, she jolted, then fumbled to pull the phone from her pocket.

On the screen, Bai Mo’s name flashed bright and glaring.

Li Xingqing had no choice but to answer.

“Teacher Xingqing, are you two okay? Has the power come back on?” Bai Mo’s anxious voice came rushing over the line, so loud it sounded like speakerphone.

“We’re fine; the power still hasn’t come back.” Li Xingqing’s voice was a little hoarse. She cleared her throat.

“Then does your phone still have battery? Do you need me to come get you? Do you have anything to eat? Is Sister Xi Zhen okay?” Bai Mo’s questions came firing one after another; Li Xingqing was momentarily overwhelmed and opened her mouth, not knowing which one to answer first.

From the moment the phone rang, Xi Zhen already knew it was Bai Mo calling.

Although she knew Bai Mo meant well, thinking of this ill-timed call made her click her tongue and snatch the phone from Li Xingqing with one hand.

“We’re not dead. Focus on your acting.” With that one sentence, she neatly hung up.

At the set, Bai Mo stared at the phone that had been hung up on, looking a little blank.

Ke Wei, standing beside him, smiled and asked, “What, got hung up on?”

“How did you know?” Bai Mo had already abandoned his grievance at being hung up on and was starting to wonder if Ke Wei was some kind of fortune-teller.

Hearing the affirmative answer, the smile on Ke Wei’s face deepened. She said with complete composure, “Heavenly secrets can’t be revealed.”

After the call ended, Li Xingqing’s phone was nearly dead as well; a red battery icon blinked on the screen.

For the sake of getting to the set smoothly, they couldn’t keep wasting time in bed.

Li Xingqing got up from the bed and was just about to say something when she saw Xi Zhen wearing that white T-shirt of hers, the neckline too wide and slipping off one side to reveal a stretch of collarbone. She hurriedly looked away, her ears red as if they’d been boiled, and stammered, “You had a fever yesterday, and you still smelled like smoke, so I... changed your clothes for you.”

She had thought Xi Zhen would be displeased at being touched without permission, but the other woman showed not the slightest hint of unhappiness; instead, she thanked her. “Then thank you, little one?”

“It’s... n-not a problem.” Li Xingqing’s voice came out muffled. She casually touched her somewhat messy hair and tucked the stray locks that were about to fall over her eyes behind her ear.

“How do you feel? Does your head still hurt? I’ll go boil some water; you should drink some first.”

Li Xingqing suddenly became very busy. She slipped on her slippers, rushed out the door, and her footsteps crackled and clattered down the hallway like a rabbit being chased.

In this old house, the kitchen was on the first floor.

If she wanted hot water, aside from an electric kettle, she had to go downstairs to use the gas stove.

When Li Xingqing went down the stairs, she nearly missed a step; she grabbed the railing just in time to steady herself.

She stood in front of the stove and waited for the water to boil. Blue flames licked the bottom of the pot, hissing softly.

Watching that little flame, Li Xingqing’s mind kept replaying the image from just now.

Xi Zhen lying in her bed, wearing her clothes, hair spread across the pillow, staring at her without blinking.

Li Xingqing unconsciously reached up and touched her own face; it was burning hot. She turned the flame down, then up again, then simply shut it off, drew a deep breath, and lit it once more.

When the water was finally boiled and poured into a cup, she dug out a jar of honey from the cabinet, added a spoonful, stirred it, then added another spoonful.

Too sweet.

She took a sip; it was so sweet it nearly choked her throat. But she didn’t pour it out. She picked it up and went upstairs.

When she pushed the door open, Xi Zhen was no longer on the bed.

The bathroom door was shut; water sounded from inside.

Li Xingqing set the cup on the table and slowly sat down on a stool, her hands not knowing where to go before finally resting on her knees as she sat very properly.

The sound of water came rushing from the bathroom, muffled through the door, like last night’s rain.

Li Xingqing’s gaze wandered around the room; she didn’t dare look toward the bathroom, and in the end her eyes fell on the rabbit plush in the corner of the table.

She didn’t know when it had fallen to the floor. She bent down, picked it up, brushed off the dust, and instead of putting it back on the bed, placed it on the table beside the lamp.

The rabbit’s eyes were narrowed, and a curved line was stitched at the corners of its mouth, making it look foolishly happy.

When the water temperature gradually dropped from a boiling one hundred degrees to a comfortable forty-seven, Xi Zhen had finished washing.

Of course, she didn’t put Li Xingqing’s clothes on again. She changed back into her own pajamas, light gray and cotton, buttoned all the way up to the collar.

Her freshly washed hair hung damply over her shoulders, droplets sliding from the ends and darkening a small patch of fabric on her shoulder.

She glanced through the window at Li Xingqing sitting on the stool, then didn’t return to her own room; instead, she pushed open the door and went into Li Xingqing’s room.

“Drink some water.” Seeing her come in, Li Xingqing handed over the cup, stretching out her hand as if offering some crucial token.

Xi Zhen didn’t stand on ceremony; she took it and drank a sip right away. The sweet taste of honey spread across her tongue; it was a little too much.

She lifted an eyebrow and looked at Li Xingqing again.

But Li Xingqing’s gaze had already drifted carelessly toward the rabbit on the table, while her ears were perked up as though waiting for a verdict.

Xi Zhen said nothing, drained the cup in one go, and at the bottom there was still a layer of honey left behind, sticky and clinging to the white ceramic wall.

Because the power was still out, the hair dryer couldn’t be used yet. Xi Zhen’s beautiful waist-length curls, which were usually an asset, had turned into a burden for the moment.

Water dripped from the ends of her hair; one drop, then another, falling onto her shoulders and spreading a growing dark stain. Li Xingqing promptly volunteered and took the towel from her.

“Sit.” Li Xingqing said, her voice steadier than before.

Xi Zhen sat down on the stool with her back to her.

Li Xingqing unfolded the towel, scooped up that handful of wet hair, and began to dry it.

Xi Zhen’s hair was indeed very long, and it had been well cared for; even wet, it still had that satin-like sheen.

Li Xingqing usually treated her own hair very roughly, giving it a random rub or two with a towel after washing and calling it done, but now she carefully dried Xi Zhen’s hair strand by strand.

From roots to ends, then from ends back to roots; her fingers slid through the damp strands, and every so often they brushed the skin at the back of Xi Zhen’s neck; cold, wet.

She quickly withdrew her hand; a few seconds later, she touched it again.

The seat Li Xingqing had originally occupied was now Xi Zhen’s.

Li Xingqing stood behind her, both of them facing the hallway window.

Their reflections appeared in the glass; one sitting, one standing; one with her head lowered, one with her eyes downcast.

Outside, the sky was already bright; it was the kind of brightness that comes after rain, with a thin wash of gold threaded through gray-blue.

Rainwater still pooled on the rooftops in the distance, glittering in broken flecks of light.

The phone had long since died, and Li Xingqing was, by nature, a fairly quiet person. Under the stillness, Xi Zhen had no choice but to begin examining everything on the table, and then she saw the rabbit on the corner and asked curiously, “You like rabbits?”

Caught off guard by the question, Li Xingqing paused in the middle of drying her hair and looked up in confusion. “Huh?”

Xi Zhen didn’t turn around; she pointed at the rabbit. “This one.”

“This was a gift from my mother. I’ve just kept carrying it with me after that.”

Li Xingqing explained casually, then continued drying her hair. The towel was already half wet; she turned it over and gathered Xi Zhen’s hair to one side, drying the fine strands at the back of her neck.

“So you were born in the Year of the Rabbit?” Xi Zhen quickly deduced based on her age.

Her voice came from the front, slightly muffled and carrying a faint nasal quality from just breaking a fever.

It wasn’t a very private question, so Li Xingqing nodded and gave an affirmative answer.

Xi Zhen, however, seemed to have discovered a whole new world; her shoulders moved slightly, as if she were laughing.

“So it’s a little rabbit.” She suddenly turned her head and looked at Li Xingqing, who was drying her hair, her eyes warm. Then she hummed a familiar children’s song, dragging out the tune slowly, with a deliberate, teasing sweetness: “Little rabbit, be good~”

The words, sung by her, came out sticky and soft, as if held between the teeth like half-melted candy.

Clearly teasing her, but Li Xingqing ignored the already-red skin behind her ears and said solemnly, “Don’t move. I won’t be able to dry it if you do.” Her voice remained steady, but her fingers tightened unconsciously, gripping the towel’s edge.

Only then did Xi Zhen realize that ever since yesterday, Li Xingqing had stopped calling her “sister.”

At that thought, a trace of mischief flashed through Xi Zhen’s eyes.

But she still obediently turned her head back, shoulders resting against the chair back to make it easier for Li Xingqing to work.

Her hair was wrapped in the towel and gently rubbed; the damp strands were separated one by one, then gathered again.

She lowered her head, looking at her hands resting on her knees, the corners of her mouth curved into a very slight smile. Yet her mouth still muttered, not too loud and not too soft, just enough for the person behind her to hear.

“Little rabbit isn’t all that obedient, either.”

Author’s Note:

They’re together now; let’s celebrate~

TL Note:

“letting desire be emptiness (色即是空)” is a Buddhist saying meaning physical attraction or desire is ultimately illusory and should be let go of.

“Little rabbit, be good~ (小兔子乖乖)” is a line from a well-known Chinese children’s song, used here playfully and flirtatiously.

“Heavenly secrets can’t be revealed (天机不可泄漏)” is a stock phrase meaning “I can’t divulge the secret.”