Hair? Just Dry It Off

Xi Zhen’s hair wasn’t short, so drying it thoroughly would take some effort. Still, it had only just turned autumn, and in a southern city like D City, the heat was lingering. It wasn’t cold yet.

By the time the dripping had finally stopped, Xi Zhen reached out and took Li Xingqing’s hand. “You’ve worked hard, little one. Take a break. We can let it air-dry after this.”

Li Xingqing let her hand be held, but she still didn’t stop right away. Her expression was full of disagreement. “If you don’t dry it, you’ll get a headache.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry.” Xi Zhen’s tone was gentle, but her movements were very forceful. Her hand shifted from a hold to a tight grip, pulling the other woman closer. “Your sister feels bad for you, that’s all. It’s fine. I’ve never...” As she spoke, she looked as though there was no way the kind of thing Li Xingqing was talking about would ever happen.

Her lips parted and closed again; her lashes lowered slightly. Fresh from the shower, her face carried a faint pink that softened the sharpness of her usual features. Her lips were cherry-pink, and perhaps because she had just drunk honey water, they still glistened with a thin sheen of moisture.

Li Xingqing looked at those moving lips, and her throat suddenly tightened.

The thought she’d had the moment she saw this person last night flashed through her mind again. If last night had counted as taking advantage of someone in distress, then this shouldn’t count, right?

Her heartbeat was too loud, pounding so hard it was like someone was beating a drum inside her chest. She was afraid Xi Zhen would hear it, and afraid she wouldn’t. The hand still holding the towel tightened slightly; her fingers spread to cup Xi Zhen’s nape through the towel, then she pushed her forward. She bent down and sealed those still-chattering lips with her own.

Her lips were taken between someone else’s. Xi Zhen’s pupils widened. In those amber eyes, shock flashed for an instant; then, as if she had realized something, she closed them very quickly. Her lashes trembled faintly, like two butterflies finally settling to rest.

The two of them were one sitting and one standing. It was clearly an awkward position, yet the kiss only deepened. Li Xingqing’s hand slid from the back of her head to the side of her neck; her palm pressed against the delicate skin behind Xi Zhen’s ear, and she could feel a thin vein pulsing there. At some point, Xi Zhen’s hand lost its strength. It rested on Li Xingqing’s wrist, neither pushing her away nor tightening its hold.

Little by little, the kiss began to carry something else. Li Xingqing thought of how Xi Zhen hadn’t answered for a long time when she knocked on the door last night; thought of how, when the door finally opened, Xi Zhen had been leaning against the frame with a face as pale as paper; thought of that split second when she’d gone weak in the legs and fallen, and how her own heart had seemed to stop.

Those fears, those lingering terrors, those “what ifs” she didn’t dare think too deeply about—all of them were now turned into force between their lips and teeth. Her teeth pressed against the other’s lower lip; her tongue seized ground inch by inch, stealing the last of Xi Zhen’s breath. She had never kissed someone so fiercely, and never been so frightened of someone.

At first, Xi Zhen could still keep up. But gradually, she couldn’t hold out anymore and could only let the other do as she pleased. Her breathing fell apart; her fingers curled on Li Xingqing’s wrist as if in surrender, or perhaps indulgence.

When the kiss finally ended, Li Xingqing pulled back. Both of them were breathing a little raggedly, the sound rising and falling in the quiet room.

Lowering her eyes, Li Xingqing saw Xi Zhen’s dazed expression. Her once-bright amber eyes were veiled in mist, and her lashes were dotted with something wet—whether leftover moisture or something else, she couldn’t tell. They shimmered.

Unable to resist, she bent down again and pressed a light kiss into Xi Zhen’s hair. The damp mist lingered there, and a faint scent drifted up to her nose. It was Xi Zhen’s smell; a scent unique to her, never shared with anyone else.

Only after all of that did Li Xingqing’s mind finally catch up. She straightened and looked at Xi Zhen’s lips, slightly swollen from her kiss; at her half-dry curls scattered over her shoulders; at the slightly open neckline of her clothes.

Li Xingqing’s gaze seemed to burn itself away. She quickly looked off to the corner, staring at the rabbit plushie there.

Her heartbeat was too fast; it felt like it might leap straight out of her throat. She started to want to run—afraid Xi Zhen would be angry, afraid Xi Zhen would think she was frivolous, afraid Xi Zhen would misunderstand and think she had only acted on impulse.

But deep in her heart, that confidence and certainty from the soul still kept her feet planted where they were, not letting her move an inch.

Their eyes locked. Li Xingqing seemed to hear a voice shouting in her head, I bet right. In this contest between her and Xi Zhen, both of them were winners.

Xi Zhen had been forcibly kissed. When she came back to herself, she laughed. That smile spread from the corners of her mouth to the corners of her eyes and brows, lighting up the entire room.

Her laugh was clear, carrying a sweetness so satisfied that even she couldn’t quite explain it. She stood up, not bothering with the towel that had already fallen to the floor, and placed her hand on Li Xingqing’s shoulder; her fingertips rested near her collarbone, where she could feel the skin there warming slightly.

“Little one, was that your first kiss?” Xi Zhen’s voice was very soft, as if Li Xingqing’s awkward kissing skills had left her more than satisfied.

Not expecting her to ask something like that, Li Xingqing’s breath caught for a beat before she recovered.

She turned her face away, her ears red as if they might drip blood. Her gaze fell on the elm tree outside the window, washed clean by rain, and on the leaves still hanging with droplets; she simply refused to look at Xi Zhen. But silence itself was an answer.

The smile on Xi Zhen’s face deepened. Unhurriedly, she closed the distance between them, rising onto her toes until her lips were almost touching the other woman’s ear. Her breath brushed the shell of it, hot and ticklish.

“Be good, little one.”

Struck by the sticky warmth in those words, Li Xingqing took half a step back, but worried Xi Zhen might fall, she still reached out and wrapped her arms around her waist. The moment her palm settled there, Li Xingqing didn’t dare move her fingers; she just stayed like that, as if cradling something fragile.

After a long moment, Xi Zhen heard Li Xingqing ask, “So what are we now?”

Xi Zhen had already thought of the answer long ago. She lifted her eyes to meet the other’s, her gaze falling into Li Xingqing’s slightly shining eyes, bright with nervousness.

She could see unease, anticipation, and cautious testing in them. So she spoke, her voice light, but each word unmistakably clear.

“You’ve gone from little one to my girlfriend.”

The grip at her waist suddenly tightened. Li Xingqing’s arms pulled her closer, as if trying to etch those words into bone.

Xi Zhen didn’t resist. She indulged her, letting her hold her so tightly that she could hardly breathe.

Their distance closed little by little, and their breaths mingled again. This kiss was gentle, unlike the one before. Xi Zhen became the one leading; her tongue lightly traced the shape of Li Xingqing’s lips, slowly guiding her to enjoy the pleasure of kissing, bit by bit.

Li Xingqing was like an eager student, obediently following Xi Zhen’s lead, then gradually tightening her arms to lock the other firmly in her embrace. Her hand moved from Xi Zhen’s waist to her back, palm pressed against those thin shoulder blades.

Outside the window, the sunlight grew brighter, falling over both of them and casting their shadows onto the white wall, overlapping so closely that there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

With their feelings laid bare, the two of them were in the sweetest, most affectionate moment. In this quiet little room that seemed cut off from the world, they were enjoying a joy belonging to no one but themselves.

Li Xingqing thought that even after a long time, she would still remember this morning. After all, at this moment, she was like a child who had found a huge treasure all on her own; she had no worries, no sorrow, everything felt like a dream.

It was just a pity that it would still be some time before she truly understood the phrase mirage and moon reflected in water.

The two of them only hurried to the set in the afternoon. Ke Wei was busy watching the monitor, and all the actors were already on set, so the two of them looked especially redundant by comparison.

Xi Zhen’s phone had finally charged. She sat in Bai Mo’s waiting chair, checking messages, the glow of the screen reflected on her face and giving her lashes a soft, fuzzy edge. Li Xingqing sat beside her, silently reading the script; each page turn made a faint rustling sound.

Under such proper appearances, it would have been even better if one ignored the fact that the two of them were secretly holding hands. Those hands were hidden behind the script, hidden beneath Xi Zhen’s coat; their fingers were interlaced, palms pressed together, and neither of them let go.

One scene took quite a long time to shoot. When Zheng Yuyu’s close-up was being filmed, Bai Mo finally got a break. He ran over, sweat still beading on his forehead, his makeup slightly smudged by the heat of the lights. Xi Zhen promptly handed him water; after he took a few sips, she started asking anxiously about what happened last night.

“Nothing happened yesterday, right? You have no idea; when Teacher Xingqing heard you might be alone over by the old house, she ran off the bus like she’d lost her mind. The production coordinator couldn’t even stop her.” Bai Mo already had a tendency to exaggerate, and with his current embellishment, Li Xingqing was even more embarrassed.

Her gaze lifted from the script to glare at Bai Mo, then quickly dropped again; her ears were already red.

Listening to Bai Mo’s account, Xi Zhen turned and looked at Li Xingqing, who was standing to the side with her head bowed and eyes on the ground. Her hair had been blown a little messy by the wind, and a thin blush still lingered around her ears; she was clutching the script, her knuckles faintly white. Xi Zhen’s lips curved slightly. In her heart, she thought the little one really was easy to tease when she was shy.

Still, it was better not to tease her in front of that fool Bai Mo. She took back the water bottle and told him, “All right, go see how Yuyu acts and learn something.”

Hearing her start in on the studying again, Bai Mo sighed inwardly and still obediently left. He walked a few steps toward the monitor, then looked back once more.

Xi Zhen and Li Xingqing were sitting side by side, a fist’s distance apart, both of their hands hidden behind the script. He scratched his head, feeling that something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t say what.

The giant human lightbulb finally left. Xi Zhen went over and took Li Xingqing’s hand, sliding her fingers between hers, clasping them one by one. Her fingers were slender, her nails neatly trimmed and rounded, the nail beds still faintly pink; they were truly very pretty hands.

Though Xi Zhen’s fingers were also long, perhaps because of the marks of time, or because her body was simply too slight, the bones in her hands were especially pronounced, making them look somewhat sharp and lean. Now, with the two hands clasped together—one fuller, one slender—they looked especially complementary.

“Does my good girl care so much about her sister?” Xi Zhen’s fingers traced over Li Xingqing’s hand, her fingertips rubbing across her knuckles before slowly lacing their fingers together. Her voice was lowered, so low that only the two of them could hear it, carrying a lazy smile meant to tease her.

Being called by a pet name like that, as if she were a child, made Li Xingqing feel a little strange. The tip of her heart tingled softly, as if someone had lightly brushed it with a feather.

Her ears reddened again, the color spreading from the tips down to the lobes, clearly visible under the bright white lights of the set. Still, she stubbornly said, “You’re afraid of the dark.”

So this person had remembered what happened that night. Xi Zhen’s heart warmed; she felt as if she were wrapped in a pair of warm hands, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, from skin to bone, all of it gently and steadily supported.

In truth, very few people knew Xi Zhen was afraid of the dark; even Bai Mo didn’t really know. It wasn’t that Bai Mo didn’t care about Xi Zhen at all, just that she truly wasn’t the kind of person who would show weakness to others.

What she could present to the outside world was always only the best side of herself. As for all the pain, cowardice, and every other unpleasant thing, those could only exist in lonely corners, borne silently by Xi Zhen alone.

Quietly licking her own wounds had been the truest lesson Xi Zhen learned in her previous life. But now, Li Xingqing had suddenly barreled into her life so recklessly, breaking through the perfect facade she had built; unexpectedly, Xi Zhen didn’t feel panicked.

In fact, just like the feeling Li Xingqing had, Xi Zhen always felt that this person appeared when she was at her most wretched.

Whether it was the beginning, when she was anxiously smoking late at night over the matter of the investment; or when she had to walk alone through a dark alley with no streetlights despite being afraid of the dark; or when she received a deliberately obstructive phone call notifying her of trouble—whenever she felt powerless, she would turn her head and always see a pair of clear eyes.

Li Xingqing might have meant it; she might not have. In any case, whether intentional or not, she had made Xi Zhen increasingly interested in her.

This was not just the interest that had arisen by chance when they first met at the high-speed rail station. It was a kind of interest born from the certainty that some fate had been destined between them.

After Li Xingqing finished explaining and still didn’t hear Xi Zhen speak, she thought the other woman was angry because she had exposed her weakness, so she quickly added, “Everyone has things they’re afraid of. If you don’t want to say it, I won’t tell anyone else.”

Little did she know, Xi Zhen didn’t care in the slightest whether she told anyone or not. Hearing this, she instead asked with great interest, “Oh? Then what are you afraid of, little one? Do you want your sister to protect you?”

Seeing this, Li Xingqing fell silent instead. Her lips pressed together, her gaze drifting away, like a rabbit cornered at the end of a wall.

But Xi Zhen was even more interested now, insisting on getting an answer. “Tell me. Everyone has something they’re afraid of; sister won’t tell anyone either.” She handed Li Xingqing’s own words right back to her, her tone carrying a sly little so this is how it feels.

Realizing she had hoisted herself by her own petard, Li Xingqing suddenly regretted it so much she could have died. But she really couldn’t resist Xi Zhen’s questioning look, and after thinking it over, she decided it wasn’t anything major anyway, so she answered honestly, “I’m afraid of bugs. Very afraid.”

“What bugs? Caterpillars? I don’t like those either.”

“All of them.” Li Xingqing’s tone was firm, as if she bore a blood feud with insects.

Seeing her like this, Xi Zhen only found her adorable, and quickly pulled Li Xingqing’s hand into her own embrace. “All right, all right. All bugs are bad. If there are bugs again next time, call sister, and sister will protect you and drive all the bad bugs away.” Her voice was drawn out, the ending lifting upward; now she really was treating Li Xingqing like a three-year-old child.

Hearing her say that, Li Xingqing couldn’t quite take it anymore either. Her face grew redder and redder, from her cheeks all the way down to her neck. She didn’t want to let go of Xi Zhen’s hand, but being treated like a child was truly embarrassing. In the end, she could only say, half-heartedly, “That’s not necessary.”

Knowing she was embarrassed, Xi Zhen thought teasing the little one was genuinely fun; she suddenly understood the pleasure of an old cow eating young grass.

Not far away, Bai Mo, just off a scene, looked at the two of them laughing together with a puzzled expression and said to Zheng Yuyu beside him, “Why do I feel like Sister Zhen and Teacher Xingqing are especially harmonious today?” He tilted his head and looked innocently at the person next to him.

If before, the atmosphere between the two had already been strange, not exactly like there was conflict, but with a feeling of invisible contention, then today, that sense of rivalry had vanished completely, turning instead into an eerie sweetness.

Author’s Note:

The little couple is just keeping everyone else out like this