Agarwood

Go give it to someone else?

Wei Yin froze, blinking as she looked down at the sunflower in her hands.

Sunflowers were her favorite flowers. When she was little, she had only ever given them to the person she loved most: her mother.

After Xiao Cai Li went missing, she had also bought a few sunflowers and placed them by the front door, hoping the cat would find its way home.

She didn’t know if anyone else was like this—liking to treat one thing as a symbol, investing it with all their feelings and hopes.

When she was very young, sometime around a birthday, when she had just begun forming memories, she had received a bouquet of sunflowers.

The flowers were bigger than her face, beautiful and dazzling. It was the first brilliant color in her childhood.

Her mom liked them too. She bent down patiently and helped Wei Yin hold the sunflowers properly, telling little Wei Yin that this was a flower that followed the sun, born in sunlight, gathering up all the light it had taken in and turning it into ripe fruit before bowing its head and letting it fall.

Love was rich and fervent; the result was sweet.

The language of sunflowers was silent love. For Wei Yin, sunflowers were something deeply private, something she only gave to the person she liked.

It might sound childish, even a little foolish, but Wei Yin truly couldn’t remember ever giving them to anyone else.

Color slowly rose in her cheeks, and she stammered, not knowing what to say.

“I’m not someone who gives flowers away casually.”

Hua Yu looked at her quietly; the shyness and confusion flickering across Wei Yin’s face were impossible to miss.

Back then, she had also seen Wei Yin kneading a sunflower.

Wei Yin was reserved, the kind of person who rarely compared herself to others and didn’t like dwelling on her own strengths or advantages. Maybe because she was always sick, she sat quietly in her own corner, never competing or scrambling for anything, and she didn’t like showing her feelings.

That was the first time Hua Yu had seen Wei Yin’s artistic talent.

A few casual strokes were enough to capture the spirit of something; a lump of clay could be shaped in her hands into all sorts of forms.

They had been very close then. Wei Yin had stared at the clay in her hand for a long time, then suddenly smiled at her. “I’m going to make a sunflower.”

For a moment, Hua Yu had been distracted by that smile. After a beat, she said, “Okay.”

Wei Yin wasn’t satisfied with Hua Yu’s one-word reply and added, emphasizing each word, “It’s for someone.”

Hua Yu came back to herself. “For someone?”

Wei Yin’s voice grew even softer, tinged with shyness. “Mm. I like sunflowers, and I want to make a ceramic flower for the person I like.”

Hua Yu wasn’t blindly confident, but she was keen and perceptive enough to sense Wei Yin’s closeness and affection; even so, there were times she wondered whether Wei Yin’s fondness was only attachment, not romantic love.

But before her doubts and hopes could even be voiced, she saw that sunflower at Yu Tiantian’s birthday banquet.

The sunflower sketch Wei Yin had drawn had become a real object, resting in Yu Tiantian’s palm.

Hua Yu had always been the proud type, someone who valued mutual willingness in both words and actions; she had never coveted what belonged to others, and she never begged anyone for anything.

That was the first time she panicked.

She had actually thought that since they weren’t together, she still had a chance to fight for it.

Gentle, strong, kind, always reaching upward; she liked that version of Wei Yin so much that for the first time in her life, she threw aside both principle and reason and wanted nothing more than to be with her.

Later, she rushed to confess her feelings... and ruined everything.

After that, she never saw Wei Yin again.

The sunflower she had longed for in her youth now lay in her palm, but Hua Yu didn’t know what she was feeling.

People always said that what you couldn’t obtain in youth would haunt you for life. Hua Yu thought that was going too far; too sentimental. Getting swept up in romance was never something a strong person should do. But at this moment, looking at that sunflower, and at the obedient, sensible Wei Yin beside her, Hua Yu felt a tremor of warmth.

Heat rose from her chest, but it carried with it an old, cold numbness; like two clearly divided rivers, one flowing with the stiffness of the past, the other surging with living, breathing affection.

Hua Yu let out a long, heavy breath and swallowed down all her unwillingness and bitterness.

She curved her lips into a gentle smile, lifted a hand, and brushed her thumb over Wei Yin’s chin. “Mm, I know. I like it very much.”

Wei Yin’s mood visibly improved. She was easy to appease, and brightened at once. “I made the stem really sturdy, so it can go in a vase.”

Hua Yu said, “Then we’ll buy a nice vase and put it in the most visible place at home.”

Wei Yin nodded again and again. “Okay.”

The gift made Dr. Hua so happy that Wei Yin, in turn, started talking more.

“I’ve been doing a lot with Yaqing these past few days. We were livestreaming, and a lot of people watched us. Some even messaged us privately wanting to buy what we made.”

“Oh, and I also found out I used to have a Weibo account when I was in college. I was so silly; the things I posted were ridiculously childish.”

Hua Yu listened attentively and seriously, nodding occasionally with a quiet “Mm” to show she was hearing everything.

Wei Yin talked for a while, then stopped. “Dr. Hua, are you listening?”

Hua Yu raised her brows. “I’ve been listening the whole time.”

Wei Yin frowned. “But you don’t look surprised, and you don’t have any questions.”

Was Hua Yu not even surprised that she could knead clay? Was she not curious about what she’d posted on Weibo? Was her life that uninteresting? It didn’t draw Dr. Hua’s attention at all.

A trace of indulgent helplessness colored Hua Yu’s eyes. “Everything you said, I already know.”

Wei Yin blinked. “Ah?”

She’d forgotten her memory loss again. Hua Yu said softly, “I told you before that you have artistic talent. Did you forget?”

“I thought Dr. Hua was just being polite,” Wei Yin said, her eyelashes fluttering. “Not really praising me.”

Hua Yu’s voice was gentle. “I don’t praise people casually.”

“Oh,” Wei Yin said. “Then what about Weibo?”

Hua Yu smiled but didn’t answer.

Wei Yin stared at her. “You’re hiding something.”

Hua Yu turned her head away and coughed with a smile.

Wei Yin frowned. “You’re teasing me again.”

“I’m not teasing you,” Hua Yu said with a soft sigh. “I know you have Weibo.”

Before Wei Yin could press her further, Hua Yu added, “You didn’t even notice someone liked your post?”

Wei Yin took out her phone. She never turned off app notifications, and she never checked her messages one by one, so her phone was always crowded with little red dots; she couldn’t be bothered to clear them all.

She opened Weibo, and sure enough, someone had liked her post.

Wei Yin tapped into it, and the very first person to like her post had the exact same profile picture as Hua Yu’s WeChat avatar.

Wei Yin said happily, “We still follow each other!”

Hua Yu watched her with a smile. “Mm.”

Wei Yin didn’t like social apps. After Wei Yin unilaterally deleted her back then, Weibo became Hua Yu’s only way to keep tabs on her.

Wei Yin must have forgotten about Weibo and never unfollowed her; so even though neither of them liked posting, they had stayed mutuals the whole time, and Hua Yu had kept her special-follow notifications turned on all along.

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” Wei Yin caught Hua Yu in her own trap. “You like my Weibo posts, but you won’t reply to my WeChat messages!”

Hua Yu caught her restless hand and gently pinched it. “Don’t stir up trouble.”

Wei Yin was both annoyed and amused; only after her hand was held still did she quiet down.

“There won’t be a next time.” Hua Yu’s voice was calm.

Every time she opened Wei Yin’s chat window, she could see that sunflower. Hua Yu wasn’t magnanimous enough for that; whenever she thought of the past and felt bitter, she simply didn’t want to reply.

Fortunately, she wasn’t the type to brood endlessly. Once she had thought it through, she was fine; she didn’t need to keep giving Wei Yin the cold shoulder for long, and she didn’t need Wei Yin to coax her.

Wei Yin’s eyes curved with ease. “You know all that, but there’s one thing you absolutely don’t know!”

Once the subject was opened, Wei Yin’s chatterbox couldn’t be shut.

Hua Yu indulged her. “What is it? Let me hear.”

Wei Yin huffed. “Guo Ai.”

A trace of confusion flashed through Hua Yu’s eyes, but she quickly remembered. She nodded. “That junior one year below you?”

This time it was Wei Yin’s turn to be shocked. “You know!?”

How did Hua Yu even know that!

Hua Yu thought for a moment. “I can’t remember what she looks like, but I do remember there was such a person.”

Wei Yin opened her mouth, wanting to question her, but she lacked confidence. “Then, then did she chat with me and say she often saw the two of us together in college? Did you know that?”

Hua Yu smiled and shook her head. “I don’t know that.”

“I knew you didn’t,” Wei Yin said, wrinkling her nose. Then she realized what she had just said and her ears turned red. “Then you...”

Hua Yu pretended not to notice and said with a light smile, “Guo Ai came to me later too. Her English was pretty good, so I suggested she could work as a nurse abroad; the status would be higher and the pay wouldn’t be bad.”

“She fell a bit short academically, though. There were still places in her paper where the wording didn’t flow.”

Wei Yin’s eyes widened and widened.

Hua Yu kept smiling. “Oh, I remember now; she was also quite good-looking...”

“Hua Yu,” Wei Yin said, pounding the bed rail once, “shut up.”

Hua Yu raised her brows. “If you don’t want me to say it, why bring her up?”

Wei Yin raised her voice. “You said before that our relationship wasn’t good, which is different from what Guo Ai said. I brought her up because I wanted to, wanted to...”

Wei Yin didn’t finish. She remembered the four agreements Hua Yu had made with her; the first was that she wasn’t allowed to talk about the past.

Besides, everything Guo Ai said could only prove that the two of them had been close during a certain period. It didn’t prove anything else.

What mattered was whether Hua Yu was willing to let her verify it.

Hua Yu was clearly unwilling; she had dodged the subject several times.

Wei Yin deflated. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

The smile in Hua Yu’s eyes faded a little. She ruffled Wei Yin’s hair, her palm lingering on the top of her head for a moment.

She remembered Guo Ai, and she remembered every little thing that had happened with Wei Yin. More than that, she remembered the scene of running into Guo Ai while strolling down the tree-lined road on campus with Wei Yin.

Guo Ai’s features were no longer clear, but back then Wei Yin had lifted her face with a bright smile; her eyes had been sparkling, and her long hair had brushed her cheeks when she turned before the breeze lifted it away.

Every expression Wei Yin had worn while introducing her friend to her was still vivid in her memory.

“This is Senior Hua Yu. She takes such good care of me; she’s beautiful and kind!”

“This is Guo Ai, Xiao Ai. A junior majoring in differentiation; she’s one year below me. Oh, right—come to think of it, she’s in the same department as you, isn’t she?”

Those voices and smiles were still as fresh as yesterday.

Wei Yin looked up; when she turned, strands of hair scraped lightly through Hua Yu’s palm.

“Grow your hair out,” Hua Yu said suddenly.

Wei Yin didn’t understand. “Grow it long?”

Hua Yu said softly, “Mm.”

Wei Yin grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged at it. “Long hair is a pain to wash.”

Hua Yu brushed away her troublesome hand. “Long hair is smoother. It won’t be a pain.”

Wei Yin thought about it. Fine. Long or short didn’t matter; she had no reason to refuse Hua Yu.

She nodded. “Okay.”

Hua Yu smiled. “My head doesn’t hurt anymore. Help me up; let’s go home.”

Before Wei Yin could move, Hua Yu got out of bed herself, and Wei Yin hurried to steady her.

In her rush, she lowered her head and happened to see the suppressant patch on Hua Yu’s neck. It was a red high-strength patch, and she was also wearing a blocker cord around her wrist.

The edge of the patch had lifted slightly. Wei Yin reached out and pressed it flat.

It itched, and Hua Yu turned her head, her cheek brushing against Wei Yin’s fingertip.

“What are you doing?”

Wei Yin curled her fingers inward, stunned. “I... Dr. Hua, why are you using a medical-grade high-strength patch? Isn’t that for patients with excess pheromones?”

Everyone’s heat cycles were different, coming once every six months. Hua Yu usually just bought some suppressants, sealed the windows and doors, and lay low at home, letting her pheromones run wild.

Hua Yu covered the suppressant patch and pressed it a few times, her tone casual. “Mm, I have excess pheromones.”

Alphas had an instinct to mark, one that drove them toward omegas, but Hua Yu had symptoms of pheromone sensitivity; she always thought the pheromones she smelled were foul and didn’t want even a little of it contaminating her.

Over time, Hua Yu’s heats became harder and harder to endure; they lasted longer, the pain grew more intense, and her headaches got worse and worse.

This time, figuring her heat was about to arrive, she had rushed to finish arranging the clinical trial work by working overtime. Overusing her brain made her pheromones even harder to control.

With their sudden closeness, Wei Yin turned her face away and sniffed lightly. “It smells nice.”

Hua Yu didn’t catch it clearly. “What?”

Wei Yin remembered what Xu Ya Qing had said and hesitated. “The smell of agarwood... what is it like?”

Hua Yu stiffened, then quickly turned to look at her. “You can smell agarwood?”

Her pheromones smelled like fallen wood.

For someone with a normal gland, perception of pheromones involved both awareness and smell; the two systems complemented each other, allowing them to identify a specific scent, while the gland would also heat in response and accept the pheromones filling the air.

Wei Yin’s pheromone perception had initially deteriorated to the point where she had only a trace of smell left; she could detect a hint of pheromones, but not distinguish what kind. Her gland, even more so, couldn’t perceive pheromones in the air at all.

If Wei Yin could now smell a specific scent, then her gland’s perception of pheromones should have improved as well.

Under Hua Yu’s expectant gaze, Wei Yin shook her head. “I can’t tell. It just feels very nice.”

Hua Yu lowered her eyes. She wasn’t disappointed, but she still asked carefully, “You’ve smelled my pheromones before; do you remember?”

During those first few days in the ward, there had been one time when Hua Yu couldn’t hold back and released a large amount of pheromones. Wei Yin had also said, “So nice.”

Wei Yin nodded. “I remember.”

Hua Yu said, “Is it any different from the scent you noticed before?”

“It seems a little clearer,” Wei Yin said. “I’ve never smelled agarwood before, so I can’t tell.”

Hua Yu grabbed her wrist, a little more urgently. “Come on. On the way home, I’ll take you to a perfume shop; smell it carefully.”