Chapter 59

The bouquet Yu Min had bought during the day had been trimmed and put in a new vase, which now sat on the nightstand in Lin Baixin’s room. The lilies were fresh and in full bloom, their white petals pure and lovely, perfectly suited to Lin Baixin’s temperament. Yu Min had fussed over the arrangement for most of the afternoon, then turned to Lin Baixin and said softly, “Next time they need replacing, I’ll buy them again.”

Lin Baixin wasn’t picky and left it to her. She could accept most flowers.

Over the next month or so, until the day her cast was removed, Yu Min regularly bought flowers to replace them, choosing a different variety and color each time.

Lin Baixin was satisfied with every one. They all suited her taste. She liked things at either extreme: either clean and understated, or vivid and blazing. Yu Min was really good at choosing flowers; every time, she picked something that went straight to her heart.

“The clerk recommended them. I don’t really know much about flowers,” Yu Min said. “Which kind do you like best?”

Lin Baixin replied, “Either is fine. I don’t have a favorite.”

“Then I’ll keep buying them like this.”

“That’s fine.”

Each time, Yu Min went to the same shop to buy flowers, the one by Gate 3 outside the neighborhood. After a while, the owner and staff became familiar with her. She was a regular who bought flowers on a schedule. After a couple more visits, without Yu Min even saying anything, the florist could already guess what kind of flowers she wanted and would recommend suitable options for reference.

“Are these for a friend?” the owner asked while they wrapped the bouquet.

Yu Min nodded. “Sort of.”

“She must be someone very important to you.”

“Mm, yes.”

“You have such a good friend,” the owner said with a smile; part genuine feeling, part polite praise. “There aren’t many people who still put this much thought into things these days. And even fewer who can keep sending flowers for so long. You’re the first one we’ve ever met in our shop.”

The flower shop offered delivery. Yu Min didn’t need to come in person every time; she could just add the shop’s account, and if there were new varieties, they could send her pictures there.

The owner tactfully suggested it to keep Yu Min as a customer: home delivery was free, and they could arrange it whenever it was convenient for her.

Yu Min refused. She insisted on coming herself to choose the flowers; she didn’t like picking them online.

Lately, she had been fixating on all kinds of pointless little things. It wasn’t just flowers; in big and small ways alike, anything involving Lin Baixin made her spend time and effort, determined to keep making a fuss.

Lin Baixin knew all of it. Anyone with eyes could see it.

For example, even though they had hired an auntie to help at home, Yu Min insisted on cooking things herself to nourish Lin Baixin’s recovery. Her cooking was only average, so she bought a stack of recipe books and looked up a ton of tutorials online. Whenever she had nothing to do, she shut herself in the kitchen to tinker and learn.

Or in the mornings, after getting up, Yu Min would leave her own room untouched and clean Lin Baixin’s side first. She was almost obsessive about it, pressing down every corner of the quilt until it was perfectly flat, not allowing a single wrinkle. But when it came time to clean her own room, she wasn’t nearly as meticulous; her attitude was much more perfunctory.

Actually, the auntie also cleaned their rooms, so Yu Min didn’t need to lift a finger. Yu Min didn’t like other people touching her personal belongings, bedding included, and that habit extended to Lin Baixin as well, as if Lin Baixin belonged to her; as if that was why she didn’t like anyone else touching Lin Baixin’s things.

And then there was Lü Dagun. The cat liked staying in her room, while during the day Yu Min practically never left Lin Baixin’s side. As long as they were home, she would carry Lü Dagun along and follow Lin Baixin everywhere.

Lin Baixin found it strange and couldn’t understand what she was doing.

Yu Min said very seriously, “Helping you two build a relationship.”

“Aren’t we already pretty good?” Lin Baixin said. “It likes me a lot.”

Lü Dagun did indeed like Lin Baixin a lot, but that was far from enough in Yu Min’s eyes. It was rather strange; she wouldn’t let her own pet get close to her, yet wanted the cat to be closer to someone else. It was genuinely hard to understand.

But Lin Baixin figured out the reason not long after and understood what was going on.

A surveillance camera had been installed in the living room, originally to keep an eye on Lin Baixin and make sure nothing happened again when Yu Min wasn’t home. Lin Baixin had been fine all along, so the camera had never really been used until this day. Lin Baixin had gone to the shop on her own, while Yu Min had gone back to school. After class, Yu Min returned home, but Lin Baixin was still at work. She had already told Yu Min not to come pick her up; Lin Qi would be passing by and give her a ride back.

In the car, Lin Baixin was suddenly curious and opened the camera to take a look. She only wanted to see it out of curiosity, since it had been up for so many days and she had never opened it once. But when she turned it on, the image was clear at first; then the lens moved slightly, and soon the screen went dark.

Thinking the camera had broken or the app had malfunctioned, Lin Baixin was about to close it when she suddenly heard a soft, obedient meow from the other end. Then the image gradually became clear again.

It turned out Lü Dagun had covered the lens, and Yu Min had lifted it aside to block the camera. The chubby cat’s head filled more than half the screen; the little thing seemed to know Lin Baixin was on the other side and meowed several times in a row.

Yu Min was behind the cat’s head; only after moving Lü Dagun away could she be seen.

“It misses you,” Yu Min said to the camera, even though Lin Baixin on this end hadn’t turned on the mic and hadn’t said a word.

As if to cooperate with Yu Min, Lü Dagun let out another cry, as though it understood human speech.

“Aaa—”

Lü Dagun didn’t really meow. As a cat, its voice was a little strange and a little cute; when it opened its small mouth, all it could say was “ah” and “ao.”

Lin Qi was in the car too, so Lin Baixin couldn’t really respond. Still, the corners of her mouth lifted unconsciously, and her brows and eyes softened considerably.

Beside her, Lin Qi, who didn’t understand pets, was puzzled. “Wow, your cat’s really smart. It seems like it actually understands. That’s so interesting.”

Lin Baixin exited the screen and stopped looking.

She touched the screen and answered gently, “It’s okay. If you raise them long enough, you get it. It understands the basic commands.”

“Can it do what dogs do? Like shake hands or lie down?”

“No.”

“It only understands things like just now?”

“Probably.”

Lü Dagun’s little head was round and smooth; it hadn’t learned anything else. Yu Min had tried teaching it things like shaking hands, but unfortunately those commands were too complicated for the little thing. It only knew one trick: as long as Yu Min lifted it in front of the camera lens, it would stare with innocent round eyes, blinking and acting cute while meowing. Afterward, Yu Min would give it freeze-dried treats; its favorite was chicken breast freeze-dried snacks.

Lin Baixin didn’t know all this, so Yu Min had several times spoken for Lü Dagun on the other end, saying the little thing missed her. At first, Lin Baixin believed it. And every time she got home and opened the door, Lü Dagun was always the first to rush to the entryway, circling around her and rubbing against her faster than Yu Min did.

Lü Dagun also liked acting spoiled. It would flop down on the floor, show its belly, and roll around with all its might.

Lin Baixin was a bit overwhelmed by such enthusiasm. She was the sort of person who was more reserved and restrained with her emotions; even when facing a pet, and even with Lü Dagun tumbling around like that, she still wouldn’t show too much. At most, she’d crouch down and rub the cat’s head, and that would be it.

“Today it was looking for you everywhere,” Yu Min said. “I’d just gotten home, and it probably thought you’d be back too. It kept looking all over for you. When it couldn’t find you, it started yowling at the top of its lungs.”

“It’s noisy all day long. It gives me a headache.”

Lin Baixin found that funny. You couldn’t tell from the way Lü Dagun was at home; it was so quiet. It was hard to imagine it running around the house looking for her.

“Want to hold it for a bit?” Yu Min said. Without waiting for Lin Baixin to agree, she was already carrying the cat over.

Lin Baixin could only reach out to take it, and in the process their hands inevitably brushed, touching for an instant before separating.

Once Lü Dagun was in her arms, they played with the cat together. Yu Min was rather fond of it; sometimes she would lean in and rub her own head against Lü Dagun’s. The cat didn’t dodge at all; it let itself be handled however she liked.

Lü Dagun was only that big, a tiny little thing. From Lin Baixin’s angle, when Yu Min leaned over, it looked as if she were pressing into her arms. Lin Baixin didn’t move away; she stood quietly until Yu Min straightened up again. After all, Yu Min was doing that to the cat, not to her. She shouldn’t dodge. There was no need or reason to.

Dodging would only seem wrong, unreasonable.

At the beginning of summer, once her hand had healed more completely, they took the cat out for an outing. Lü Dagun was different from other cats; it wasn’t shy, wasn’t afraid to go out, and was curious about the outside world. Whenever they took it out, it always pressed itself against the car window, craning its neck to look here and there.

They called it going out to enjoy spring, but in reality it was all by car. Only after reaching the destination did they put a leash on Lü Dagun and let it down out of the car.

Lü Dagun didn’t like running around. It was slow and clumsy, and only stayed beside the picnic cloth Yu Min had spread out, never going beyond it.

Lin Baixin sat next to it, occasionally scratching its chin. Lü Dagun purred nonstop, rolling onto Lin Baixin’s legs for a while, then over to Yu Min’s side.

The two of them were both playing with the cat, so naturally they sat even closer. The early summer sun wasn’t harsh; it was warm on the skin. They basked in it for more than ten minutes, then moved into the shade. Yu Min lay down and kept playing with the cat. One person and one cat pressed against Lin Baixin’s leg; Lü Dagun copied her. It was lazy, imitating Yu Min’s loafing, and soon it flopped over too, lying straight on its back while using its tail to tease Yu Min instead.

Lin Baixin watched and couldn’t help laughing, then reached out to pet Lü Dagun again.

“What about me?” Yu Min suddenly said, shifting a little closer to her.

It was just a joke. Yu Min had gotten carried away playing with the cat and hadn’t thought it through. But maybe she had been baked a little silly by the sun, because Lin Baixin wasn’t very clear-headed either. Without thinking, Lin Baixin reached out and patted Yu Min’s head too, sharing the attention equally and fairly.

Satisfied, Yu Min laughed as well. She was bold and didn’t know when to stop. Once she got a little reward, she didn’t stop there; instead she pushed her luck, inching closer again and again just like Lü Dagun, until she was resting against Lin Baixin’s leg and leaning on her.

“Today’s weather is nice.”

“It is pretty good.”

They chatted casually, back and forth, as if their legs had gone numb. Lin Baixin didn’t push Yu Min away and even let her flop over onto her lap after a while.

Yu Min closed her eyes and “slept” for more than twenty minutes.

A breeze brushed their faces; the air was fresh; everything was just right.

On the grass where they were out enjoying the spring weather, there were many people like them, though most of them were couples or families. People like them were the minority.

But minorities mixed in with the majority, and with so many people around, they were unremarkable. No one would pay special attention to this corner; nobody cared.

“Do you still have contact with Song Chu?” On the way back, Yu Min asked bluntly. “Has she looked for you again?”

“She did,” Lin Baixin said. “But we haven’t had contact for a long time.”

“When did she look for you?”

“A week ago.”

“Mm.”

“Have you run into her again?”

“I bumped into her once the other day.”

“Did she look for you?”

“No. We just ran into each other at school.”

They only talked about Song Chu, not Jiang Zhou. Yu Min didn’t bring it up, and Lin Baixin didn’t ask, as if there were no such person at all.

After Lin Baixin’s car accident, Song Chu had always wanted to come visit, but as expected, she was sternly refused. Lin Baixin had repeatedly tried to keep things civil, but Song Chu didn’t know when to stop. They were already close to truly falling out. Lin Baixin had no choice; being polite only made the other side think there was still a chance. This time, Lin Baixin was quite ruthless. Her approach hurt Song Chu’s feelings badly. In the end, Song Chu still cared about face and couldn’t bring herself to be completely shameless. She had been young and ignorant before, but with age came pride; that kind of reckless, consequence-be-damned impulse had long since worn away. After a few rounds like that, Song Chu was no longer as persistent as she had first been. After the last time she looked for Lin Baixin, she didn’t even send messages anymore.

Song Chu had blocked Lin Baixin and deleted all of her contact information, cutting things off unilaterally. Lin Qi had already told Yu Min about it. She knew the situation: sometimes giving up comes faster than falling in love; determination can happen in an instant, and letting go can be no more than a blink of the eye.

“Don’t you regret it?” Yu Min said.

Lin Baixin wanted to say, “No, I don’t regret it,” but with Yu Min’s upturned face looking at her, the words caught in her throat, and she didn’t know how to say them.

Yu Min went on, “If someday in the future, you meet someone like Song Chu again, would it still be the same?”

It was almost as if she were piercing right through that thin paper wall, only a step away from saying it plainly.

Lin Baixin lowered her eyes to look at Lü Dagun and stroked its paw, seeming not to hear that sentence. She was even more silent than before.

With her head resting on Lin Baixin’s lap, Yu Min didn’t actually want a precise answer. She already knew the answer, knew that Lin Baixin would respond like this. The branches and leaves overhead were lush and dense. Yu Min looked upward, and when she still didn’t get Lin Baixin’s reply, she fell quiet as well. Then, as if by accident, she pressed a little closer to Lin Baixin’s lower abdomen; closer still.

Lin Baixin never pushed her away. She seemed not to feel a thing, still as a mountain. No one knew how long passed before she lowered her gaze. In the quiet, heavy atmosphere, Lin Baixin reached out and, as always, brushed the loose strands of hair from Yu Min’s face with her fingertips.

Her hand had gone out, but it took a long time before she could draw it back. Yu Min suddenly grabbed Lin Baixin’s wrist, holding it so firmly that she couldn’t pull away.

She tugged Lin Baixin’s hand to the side of her own face. The distance between them was so close that if either of them moved, they would brush against each other.

Yu Min glanced at the cat between them and lowered her voice. “Lü Dagun’s asleep. Be careful; don’t wake it.”

The little thing had drifted off, lying on its back with no guard up at all, breathing evenly and purring softly.

Lin Baixin couldn’t bear to wake it. After hesitating for a moment, she ultimately stopped struggling and let the little thing sleep peacefully first.