Chapter 75
The next morning, Wen Yan went to the hospital as usual and spent half the day in the outpatient clinic.
In the brief moments between patients, her thoughts would occasionally drift back to the night before.
Under the warm yellow lights in the RV, the corners of Jin Zijin’s eyes had turned red as she called to her in that soft, sweet voice, rubbing against her hand until it was wet and hot.
She had wrapped her arms around Wen Yan’s neck, pressed close to her ear, and breathed warmly, “I want it…”
“Harder…”
“Harder…”
Fuck me hard!
That endless teasing, that unrestrained surrender; the woman was nothing less than a snowfield enchantress.
If Wen Yan hadn’t kept herself in shape all these years, she really felt like she might have died on top of her.
Ah… just thinking about it made the tips of Wen Yan’s ears heat up uncontrollably.
She lowered her eyes, pressed her lips together, and silently despised herself in her heart: Wen Yan, you useless idiot. You’re done for.
As soon as she got off work at noon, she changed into something more convenient and hurried over to the Peking University gymnasium.
When she pushed the door open, the people involved in the filming were already waiting in the middle of the venue. Jiang Linyue and Song Yao were standing in front of the mirrored wall, having just finished a round of practice; their breathing was slightly uneven.
Jiang Linyue was the first to spot her. She lifted a hand in a small wave, her tone natural and gentle. “Wen Yan’s here.”
After a pause, her gaze landed on Wen Yan’s face, carrying a touch of familiar warmth. “We’ve already run through it a couple of times. When you get here, how about we do one full rehearsal together?”
Wen Yan nodded, set her bag down on the nearby bench, and loosened her wrists and ankles. “Okay. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
She had stayed up until the latter half of the night dealing with the New Year’s Eve chaos, then buried herself in clinic work all morning; she had used up quite a bit of energy. By the time she finished a full set of the health-preserving exercise routine, her breathing was faintly labored, and her pace was a little slower than usual.
When she finished, she smiled and rubbed her wrist, then looked at Jiang Linyue. “As expected, Senior Sister is amazing. You’re so smooth the whole way through; not a single move out of place.”
Jiang Linyue curved her lips.
She didn’t answer, but her gaze unconsciously drifted to Song Yao beside her. The woman’s eyes carried a kind of unguarded favoritism, like a spring breeze brushing over a lake; silent, but leaving behind a faint ring of ripples.
“I’m nowhere near as good as Teacher Song.” She smiled softly, praising her without the slightest concealment. “Teacher Song’s posture and rhythm are textbook-perfect. Every movement is just right.”
Song Yao was wiping sweat from her face. At that, she quickly waved her hands, her cheeks going slightly red; even the tips of her ears tinged pink.
“No, no, I just practiced earlier than you did.” Her voice was hurried, as though afraid of being misunderstood. “The two of you have martial arts foundations; your force and posture are much more precise than mine. I’m still far behind…”
“No need to be modest; you really are great.”
Jiang Linyue looked at her, the smile in her eyes deepening.
Her gaze stayed on Song Yao’s face for a long time, impossible to hide the initiative and admiration within it; it was as clear as chalk writing on a blackboard.
Song Yao grew even more self-conscious under that stare. She lowered her lashes, fingertips unconsciously tugging at the towel she was using to wipe sweat.
Wen Yan didn’t think much of it, because her senior usually praised other people like this too.
But in Chi Chunxin’s eyes, this scene was truly a little too subtle.
Goodness gracious; so Senior Jiang was the proactive type! And she just happened to be the same type as Ye Jianlan!
Chi Chunxin looked at Song Yao’s shy, bashful expression, then thought about that shameless old thing Ye Jianlan… Mm. Old Ye, you’ve got no chance!
The three of them kept adjusting and practicing together. Roughly an hour later, everyone had become quite familiar with the routine.
Chi Chunxin began having them break down the movements, preparing to do a split-step teaching segment.
They rehearsed with such fiery enthusiasm all afternoon that the gymnasium door was pushed open again.
Hearing footsteps, Wen Yan quickly turned her head. Jin Zijin walked in with three assistants.
She was wearing a sharp black overcoat, her long hair loosely draped behind her shoulders. Her brow and eyes carried their usual dignity and composure; her heels struck the floor with crisp tapping sounds.
Wen Yan’s eyes lit up at once. She paused her movements and greeted her, “Zijin…”
Jin Zijin lifted her gaze toward her. Their eyes met, and the woman who had just been cold and aloof softened instantly, the corners of her lips curving into a faint smile.
As if ice and snow had met the spring sun and begun, little by little, to melt into water.
Jin Zijin walked over to her. “Yan Yan…”
After greeting Jiang Linyue and Song Yao properly, she said, “Thanks for your hard work. I brought drinks for you.”
She turned to her assistants behind her, and they set the bags in their hands on the bench, then took out several hot drinks and handed them out one by one.
The ones for the rest of the crew were the current trendy milk teas.
Chi Chunxin got brown sugar pearl fresh milk; beads of condensation clung to the cup, and the sweet aroma was rich and thick.
The remaining three—Wen Yan, Jiang Linyue, and Song Yao—all got the same thing: freshly squeezed fruit-and-vegetable juice. The clear green liquid showed the kale powder settling at the bottom at a glance, healthy with unapologetic confidence.
Chi Chunxin held her milk tea, raised an eyebrow, and made a long, drawn-out sound of appreciation.
“Oho… President Jin really is thoughtful. She knows our Teacher Song has to manage her figure, so she specially ordered something this healthy; that’s way too considerate, isn’t it?”
She deliberately mentioned Song Yao, and Jiang Linyue indeed looked over, her gaze landing on Jin Zijin.
Jin Zijin rolled her eyes faintly, too lazy to deal with her provocation.
But Song Yao immediately tensed up. Her cheeks flushed even redder, and she hurriedly explained, her voice fast and anxious, as if afraid of causing some earth-shattering misunderstanding: “No, no… Teacher Wen and Teacher Jiang both exercise regularly. People who work out usually like drinking this. It’s very normal…”
The words were crisp and decisive, instantly clearing herself of suspicion; she looked as though she wanted to raise both hands to prove her innocence.
Chi Chunxin and Jiang Linyue, who were present, were both a little taken aback when they heard this.
Jiang Linyue, in particular, pressed her lips together and let out a light laugh.
Chi Chunxin narrowed her eyes, her gaze flitting back and forth between the two of them. Mm… what the heck, this was mutual pursuit, wasn’t it?
Old Ye, you’re out of the running!
Jin Zijin was sharp enough to notice Chi Chunxin’s gaze. She turned her head and looked at her, then at that old fox-like smile on her face, and found it odd.
What is this person up to now?
Not understanding, Jin Zijin simply lifted the corners of her lips in a light smile and said lazily, with a touch of victorious disdain, “Listen to her; that’s what a normal person sounds like.”
“Not like some people, who open their mouths and only know how to sow discord.”
Chi Chunxin pouted and gave a quiet huff. “Tch.”
She bit down on her straw, cast another glance back and forth between Jiang Linyue and Song Yao, then swallowed the rest of what she’d been about to say.
It was already five o’clock, and rehearsal had temporarily wrapped up.
Jin Zijin looked around at the group and asked, “What do you want to eat tonight? I booked a private room in advance; let’s go there together.”
After a pause, she added, “It’s near the school; a ten-minute drive.”
At that, Song Yao froze slightly. She held the fruit-and-vegetable juice in her hands, a trace of hesitation appearing on her face. Jiang Linyue, who had been paying close attention to her, didn’t miss it.
Jiang Linyue almost immediately said, naturally as though it were offhand, “I won’t go. It’s rare for me to be back at my alma mater; I want to try the cafeteria food.”
As she spoke, her gaze seemed to brush lightly over Song Yao’s face. “I haven’t had it in a long time. I rather miss it.”
Song Yao’s eyes lit up. She quickly nodded along, excitement impossible to hide in her voice. “I heard about it too. Peking University’s cafeteria has such a great reputation; I’ve always wanted to try it…”
She turned to Jiang Linyue, her tone carrying careful anticipation. “Senior Jiang, can I tag along and have a meal with you?”
Jiang Linyue looked at her.
The girl’s cheeks had gone faintly red from expectation, and under the tension she kept worrying her lower lip.
So cute, like a little rabbit. Jiang Linyue curved her lips. “Of course.”
Their interaction was far too subtle. Jin Zijin, with her sharp instincts, caught the strange chemistry at once.
Standing to the side, she quietly assessed them both, her long brows lifting slightly.
Song Yao, who studied dance, had a light, graceful bearing; at 172 centimeters, her figure was supple, like a willow branch in spring. Standing beside Jiang Linyue, she lowered her head slightly, revealing a clean line of pale neck.
Jiang Linyue, who studied medicine and kept fit, was 165 centimeters. Neat and upright, she stood beside Song Yao and was just a little more than half a head shorter, yet looked like a reliable green pine.
What a well-matched pair of beautiful people.
Jin Zijin clicked her tongue silently in her heart.
Old Ye, ah, Old Ye; you’ve got the wrong target. You’re definitely headed for a Shura field.
Wen Yan didn’t notice the subtle atmosphere among the others. Instead, she looked at Jiang Linyue and said very naturally, “That’s fine then, Senior Sister. I have a faculty meal card.”
She pulled the card from her wallet and handed it over. “If you want to eat at the cafeteria, I’ll give you the card; just use mine.”
Jiang Linyue took it and smiled. “I’d forgotten you’re still a lecturer at Peking University.”
She gave the card in her hand a little shake, looking very easygoing. “All right, then I won’t be polite.”
Chi Chunxin, faithful to her “the more excitement the better” principle, immediately perked up.
Her eyes lit. “In that case, we’re eating at the cafeteria too!”
After a pause, she started counting on her fingers. “Peking University’s cafeteria is famous for being delicious; there’s the Wuxi Cafeteria, the Yiyuan Cafeteria, the Shaoyuan Cafeteria… Today I’m absolutely going to max out Wen Yan’s meal card!”
Wen Yan looked at Jin Zijin and asked, “Zijin, do you want cafeteria food?”
Jin Zijin also wanted to watch the fun, so she agreed readily. “Sure. Let’s all go together.”
——————
The five of them walked to the cafeteria chatting and laughing.
The winter campus was quiet. Bare ginkgo trees stretched their branches toward the sky. From time to time, groups of students rode past on bicycles, their bells tinkling like echoes of youth.
Chi Chunxin arranged for the accompanying staff to eat at the restaurant, while she herself followed the main group with great delight to experience campus life.
She was wearing a bright orange puffer jacket; walking through the drab winter campus, she looked like a small, moving sun.
Even though it was the New Year’s holiday, Peking University’s cafeteria was still operating normally.
The moment they pushed the door open, heat and the aroma of food rushed over them. The place was bright and spotless, full of lively human warmth. There were long lines in front of the food windows, and the students’ laughter mixed with the clatter of bowls and chopsticks to form a lively din.
Chi Chunxin held her tray and followed behind Wen Yan and Jiang Linyue, her eyes darting around as everything looked fresh and novel.
“You two are both alumni; hurry up and introduce me. Which dishes are the best?”
So Wen Yan and Jiang Linyue each pointed out the signature dishes from either side.
Wen Yan pointed to one window. “That’s sweet-and-sour pork ribs. Tangy and sweet, crisp on the outside and tender inside. I used to get a serving every time I finished an exam.”
Jiang Linyue pointed to another. “Braised chicken with mushrooms. The chicken is very tender, the mushrooms are well seasoned, and it goes especially well with rice.”
Wen Yan pointed again. “Stir-fried seasonal vegetables. They change every day; cheap and healthy.”
Jiang Linyue pointed once more. “Nutritious soup. A bowl in winter warms you right through.”
The two of them spoke in perfect rhythm, their cooperation seamless, like a pair of seasoned partners.
Chi Chunxin listened with her mouth practically watering, and in the end got one of everything; her tray piled high.
Everyone loaded up with full trays of food and found seats near the window.
Sunlight slanted in through the glass, falling across the table, across the trays, across everyone’s faces, gilding them with a warm golden layer.
Chi Chunxin bit down on her chopsticks and looked around at the energetic students, unable to help sighing in admiration. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt this campus vibe.”
After a pause, her eyes lit up. “Maybe I should change careers. Stop making documentaries and shoot a campus idol drama instead; wouldn’t that be great?”
Jin Zijin was picking out scallions as she ate. At that, she didn’t even look up before tearing her down. “With your artistic sense? Maybe you could manage something niche and obscure. An idol drama?”
She gave a snort of derision. “Who’s going to invest in you?”
“Oh, so you’ll invest, then!” Chi Chunxin lifted her chin in defiance, pointing her chopsticks vaguely in the air. “Other things aside, my photography is better than the melodramatic junk your film company produces by a hundred times.”
Jin Zijin huffed softly, too lazy to bicker with her.
But Chi Chunxin wouldn’t let it go. She turned to Jiang Linyue. “Senior Jiang, what do you think? Could I make an idol drama?”
Jiang Linyue was helping Song Yao with her food.
She picked up a chopstickful of stir-fried vegetables and placed it lightly into Song Yao’s bowl, her movements so natural they looked as if she had done it countless times.
Hearing Chi Chunxin’s question, she lifted her head and said slowly, “Very good. You’re very capable. If you made one, it would definitely become popular.”
Chi Chunxin burst out laughing and said smugly at Jin Zijin, “Hear that? Senior Jiang has taste. Not like you…”
“You tasteless thing!”
Jin Zijin couldn’t be bothered to pay her any mind. “Senior Sister just didn’t want to hurt your feelings; she’s only flattering you. And you believed it.”
Chi Chunxin clicked her tongue, then turned to ask Jiang Linyue, “Hey, Senior, speaking of campus idol dramas, when you were in school, was there anyone particularly memorable?”
A particularly memorable person?
Jiang Linyue glanced at Wen Yan, who was eating beside them. “When I was in school, I was too busy looking after the younger students in my research group. There weren’t any romantic stories like the ones you’re imagining.”
Chi Chunxin immediately understood and deliberately teased her. “Then… Senior Sister really likes taking care of juniors, huh? Does that mean you prefer younger people?”
The moment she said it, both Jin Zijin and Song Yao froze.
Jiang Linyue thought about it for a moment before speaking. “Maybe. I do like things that are easy to love.”
“Little things that do nothing at all, just sitting there looking pleasing to the eye; they’re pretty interesting.”
Wow, Old Ye… you’ve been passed over.
Chi Chunxin silently mourned Ye Jianlan again, while also wondering whether Jiang Linyue had been saying this so directly for Song Yao’s sake, or for her own.
Or both? To let Old Ye know she should give up.
How far had Old Ye even gotten?
Under Chi Chunxin’s seemingly casual probing, the whole table ate in a lively mood. Even Song Yao, who always controlled her diet, broke her usual rule and ate quite a bit.
She picked at her rice in small bites, her expression full of satisfaction; every so often she would glance up at Jiang Linyue, then lower her lashes again in a hurry, like a hamster secretly watching the person feeding it.
Jin Zijin had a small appetite and always wanted to taste everything.
She had gotten a little from this window and a serving from that window; before she knew it, her bowl was piled full. By the time she got to the end, she was holding the bowl and worrying over it, lightly tapping the rim with her chopsticks.
Wen Yan saw it and said nothing. She simply reached over with her chopsticks and silently moved the dishes Jin Zijin couldn’t finish into her own bowl.
One piece, two pieces, three pieces.
Quietly taking over for her.
The action was as natural as breathing, as instinctive as if she had done it countless times.
Chi Chunxin caught this at once and immediately waggled her brows, her voice full of teasing. “I was wondering why Wen Yan only took such a little earlier…”
After a pause, she dragged out her tone. “So she was saving room for her wife here!”
She clicked her tongue repeatedly. “President Jin really has it easy; even eating, someone’s there to clean up after her.”
Wen Yan’s features were gentle, and when she looked at Jin Zijin her gaze was especially soft. “It’s a good thing to let her try more of what she likes.”
Jiang Linyue, sitting nearby, lifted her eyes and glanced at Wen Yan; some unreadable emotion flashed across them.
A moment later, she lowered her gaze and continued slowly picking at the rice in her bowl, but her movements were slightly slower than before.
After so long, she still couldn’t help being affected; food had become somewhat tasteless.
Jin Zijin noticed her reaction and felt something stir in her heart.
She suddenly remembered what Wen Yan had once said: back in school, whenever Jiang Linyue couldn’t finish something, she would share it with Wen Yan.
Jiang Linyue’s care had been one of the warmest parts of Wen Yan’s youth.
So back then, had Jiang Linyue also wanted Wen Yan to try a wider variety of flavors, just as she was taking care of Song Yao now?
Did Jiang Linyue… really like Wen Yan?
Or was it simply that her nature made her accustomed to protecting the weak?
If that was the case, then Old Ye might not be completely out of chances.
After dinner, the group returned to the gymnasium to continue rehearsing.
They broke down movements, corrected posture, and checked the rhythm; over and over, without the slightest carelessness.
Song Yao stood at Jiang Linyue’s side, occasionally raising a hand to adjust the angle of her arm. “Here; raise it a little higher.”
Jiang Linyue lifted her arm as instructed and turned her head to look at herself in the mirror. In the mirror, Song Yao stood behind her, her gaze fixed on Jiang Linyue’s profile, not moving away for a long time.
For a moment, looking at Song Yao in the mirror, Jiang Linyue found herself thinking of many years ago, when Wen Yan had taught her the long fist routine.
So meticulous, so patient; clearly so young, yet so dependable.
Jiang Linyue inevitably spaced out for a second, until she heard Wen Yan beside them say, “Song Yao, take a look at whether I’m doing this right?”
Song Yao turned to look at her. Her posture was very standard, and she nodded. “Right.”
Only then did Jiang Linyue come back to herself. She turned to look at Wen Yan; the other woman was standing in a very proper stance, her temperament as steady as a pine tree.
She was no longer the tender bamboo shoot of her youth; she had grown into a very capable woman.
Yet the more that was the case, the harder it was for Jiang Linyue to look away.
She took a deep breath, focused her eyes back on the mirror, and kept practicing.
Stop thinking about it. No matter how much you think about it, it won’t do any good.
She was already married; she didn’t like you at all. Was she supposed to selfishly run up to her and say, I like you, for many, many years, and destroy this rare friendship?
She couldn’t do that, Jiang Linyue; calm down.
Jiang Linyue forced herself to steady her thoughts, shifting her gaze to Song Yao in the mirror and suppressing those improper feelings.
——————
By ten at night, filming finally wrapped.
“See you tomorrow.”
Everyone said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.
Jin Zijin and Wen Yan walked out of the gymnasium side by side.
The winter night wind carried a crisp chill as it swept over them, and it felt especially pleasant on the face. The wintersweet trees by the road were in full bloom; a faint fragrance drifted through the darkness, the delicate scent entering the nose and leaving one clear-headed.
Wen Yan turned to look at her, her eyes soft with warmth. “Tired?”
“Not tired.” Jin Zijin shook her head and looped her arm through Wen Yan’s. “You’re the one working and rehearsing; you’re the one who’s really exhausted.”
Wen Yan smiled and gently tightened her hold on her hand. “Want to take a walk with me?”
Jin Zijin looked up. “Where to?”
“To the track field.”
Wen Yan took her hand and strolled slowly through the Peking University campus.
In deep winter, the roadside trees were bare, their branches reaching toward the dark ink-blue sky. The streetlights cast a warm yellow glow, stretching their shadows long; the two figures overlapped under the moon, indistinguishable from one another.
When they passed the library, the whole building was still brightly lit.
Through the windows, Wen Yan could almost see the students inside bent over their studies. Some rested their chins on their hands as they read; some typed at their computers; some lay on the table taking a short nap.
Those memories were quiet yet vivid, like a painting that moved.
Wen Yan looked at the patch of warm light and said softly, “When I was in school, in order to finish my credits earlier and apply to my advisor to start the research project ahead of time, I was basically here every day from Monday to Friday.”
After a pause, she raised her hand and pointed toward the buildings in the distance. “After the library closed, I’d run back to the dorm. See, that’s the medical school dormitory; it’s about three kilometers from here.”
“Most people ride bikes or take the campus shuttle.” She curved her lips. “I always ran back.”
Jin Zijin tilted her head curiously. “Did your senior sister run with you back then too?”
“Mm, she was there too.” Wen Yan nodded. “If we ran into each other, we’d run together. Later, she went out for a year of internship, and then I ran by myself.”
After a pause, her voice softened, tinged with nostalgia. “It felt pretty hard back then. Now that I think about it, it was actually kind of interesting.”
Jin Zijin smiled. “That kind of quiet campus life…”
She looked toward the distant lights, her voice gentle. “Sounds pretty good, actually.”
Wen Yan turned to look at her. Moonlight fell across her face, tinting her features with a softness that was almost tender. “What about you?”
Jin Zijin blinked. “My what?”
“Your campus life.” Wen Yan’s gaze was soft and curious. “How did you spend it?”
Jin Zijin lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t I show you my photo albums?”
She sighed and slipped her hands into her coat pockets. “What else could I have done? I participated in all kinds of competitions, attended all kinds of meetings, ran around everywhere like I was at war.”
At that, she curved her lips herself. “Oh right, and I still had to find time to argue with Chunxin.”
Wen Yan was amused by her. She lowered her eyes, a tiny trace of mischief flashing within them, and dragged out the sound, “Oh—”
Looking at Jin Zijin, she asked with a smile in her voice, “Then there wasn’t anyone… who left a particularly deep impression on you?”
Jin Zijin immediately caught the key point. She looked at Wen Yan with a smile that was not quite a smile, her eyes slightly narrowed like a leopard that had discovered its prey. “Someone who left a deep impression?”
After a pause, she enunciated each word. “Someone like your senior sister?”
Wen Yan was helpless at once. She raised a hand to her forehead, though the corners of her mouth still couldn’t help lifting. “...I can’t have this conversation anymore.”
Jin Zijin couldn’t hold back a laugh.
She wrapped her arm more tightly around Wen Yan’s and leaned against her, smiling until her eyes curved. “All right, all right; I won’t tease you anymore.”
Her voice softened, turning serious. “Back then I was really too busy. I was just charging forward with all my effort; where would I have had the chance to form something this precious?”
At that, Wen Yan stopped walking. Turning to face her properly, she suddenly tightened her hand around Jin Zijin’s. “Then let’s make some.”
Jin Zijin froze. “Make what?”
“Make some campus memories that belong to us.”
As soon as the words fell, Wen Yan suddenly gripped her hand and pulled her into a run along the shaded path.
The winter night wind rushed toward them, pouring into their collars, cold enough to make the tip of one’s nose tremble. The wind carried the faint fragrance of wintersweet, along with the warmth of the palm beside hers; the chill was instantly washed away, leaving only an indescribable exhilaration.
The two of them held hands and ran forward with the evening wind at their backs.
Their hair lifted in the wind, streaming behind them in a long arc. Fallen leaves underfoot crunched into soft, rustling sounds with each step, like they were treading on the folds of time.
Jin Zijin hadn’t been this wild in a long time.
After only a short run, she was out of breath and quickly stopped, waving both hands. “No, no, I can’t run anymore…”
She bent over, hands on her knees, breathing hard. Her cheeks were faintly flushed from the run, but her eyes were bright, full of light.
Wen Yan stopped as well and looked at her.
As she panted, Jin Zijin’s shoulders rose and fell slightly. Her hair had been blown into a mess, her cheeks were red, and her eyes were sparkling.
Wen Yan couldn’t help but soften her expression, smiling gently.
Just like that, she held Jin Zijin’s hand and gazed at the vivid, radiant woman before her, her heart melting into complete softness.
At that moment, a campus shuttle slowly passed by.
Its headlights fell on Jin Zijin’s face; the shifting light and shadow made her whole being shine, beautiful enough to be impossible to look away from.
Wen Yan looked at her.
Looked at her.
Looked at her.
After a while, Wen Yan spoke softly, her voice carrying a little of that youthful yearning and sincerity: “Actually, during dinner today, I was thinking…”
“What if I had met you when I was fourteen?”
Jin Zijin straightened up and looked at her, somewhat stunned.
Wen Yan tilted her head and began to imagine aloud, unable to stop herself. “Would we have gone to the cafeteria together?”
Her voice was very light, as though sketching out a dream from long ago. “I’d accompany you to all kinds of competitions; you’d accompany me in the library, fighting for credits day and night…”
“You love picking out a huge pile of food, and if you can’t finish it, you give it all to me… when we’re free, we’d ride the wind and run like this, freely…”
Wen Yan paused, tenderness filling her eyes. “If it were like that, it would actually be pretty nice.”
Looking at the soft, bright light in Wen Yan’s eyes, Jin Zijin suddenly didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
She reached out and lightly tapped Wen Yan’s forehead. “The way you say that is way too sneaky.”
Wen Yan blinked, looking innocent. “Why do you say that?”
“If we had met that early…” Jin Zijin deliberately dragged out the words, a little vinegar still lingering in her heart, wanting to pinch it one more time. “Then what about your senior sister?”
Wen Yan froze. She thought seriously for a moment, as though she were really considering a solemn academic question. “What does this have to do with Senior Sister?”
Holding Jin Zijin’s hand, she said matter-of-factly, “I’d still get to know Senior Sister. We’d still work on projects together; there just might not be as much interaction, and we wouldn’t go outdoors together as often…”
“But Senior Sister would still be Senior Sister; she’s someone I’ve always respected.”
She looked at Jin Zijin, her eyes a little stubborn. “But you’re different.”
Jin Zijin’s heart gave a jolt. “How are we different?”
Wen Yan’s ears quietly went red.
Yet she still looked at Jin Zijin bravely, without the slightest attempt to avoid her gaze.
Those eyes were shining brilliantly in the night, filled with moonlight, lamplight, and Jin Zijin’s complete reflection.
Her voice was soft, but unwavering: “I would fall in love with you at first sight, and then want to date you.”
Jin Zijin couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing.
She laughed until her eyes curved into crescents, her shoulders trembling slightly, even the corners of her eyes brimming with a thin sheen of moisture.
“Why?” Jin Zijin’s voice was full of amusement, soft and teasing as she deliberately flirted with her. “You really want to fall in love that early?”
Wen Yan lowered her head. Her gaze fell on their interlocked hands, on Jin Zijin’s fingers lightly picking at her palm.
Like a young person who didn’t know what to do, yet was incomparably honest.
“I don’t know.” She was a little dazed too, but the feeling in her heart was very clear. “I just feel… I should have started dating you earlier.”
She raised her eyes to look at Jin Zijin, her gaze bright and full of the reckless sincerity of youth. “I want to meet you sooner, so the days I can feel happy will become so much more.”
Because every moment I’m with you, I can feel intense happiness.
I want days like that.
Such a clear feeling makes me think that being alive is a very wonderful thing.
Jin Zijin understood what she meant. She took her hand and said, “Then let’s walk a little more.”
——————
Wen Yan held her hand and kept walking. After a while, the two of them stepped onto Peking University’s track field.
The empty field was quiet in the winter night. The grass on the soccer pitch had long since turned yellow; moonlight flowed like water, making everything clear.
The stands were empty, row after row of seats silently facing the night. The streetlights beside the running track cast a warm glow; the two figures merged beneath the moon, no longer distinguishable as separate.
A cold wind, carrying the faint fragrance of wintersweet, swept by. Looking at Wen Yan’s brows and eyes so close to her, the little twinge of jealousy from before had long since vanished, leaving only self-satisfaction and softness.
Jin Zijin reached out and poked her waist, teasingly asking, “Student Wen, want to kiss on the track field?”
Wen Yan stopped and turned to face Jin Zijin, gently resting both hands on her shoulders.
She looked at her for a long time, then leaned down slightly until their noses touched and their breaths intertwined.
A moment later, Wen Yan kissed her.
It was careful and cherishing, like a snowflake landing on the tip of the heart; lingering enough to make one go weak.
Jin Zijin subconsciously closed her eyes.
She felt Wen Yan lightly take her lower lip into her mouth, suck gently, and grind softly. The sensation was soft and numbing, traveling from her lips straight into her chest, spreading out in fine, rippling circles.
She reached out and wrapped her arms around Wen Yan’s waist, nestling into her embrace.
Even the cold winter wind couldn’t compare to the heat when their lips touched.
When the kiss ended, the two of them pulled slightly apart, the warmth of one another still lingering between their lips.
Jin Zijin was breathing a little heavily, her cheeks flushed, her eyes misty. She looked at Wen Yan and smiled as she murmured, “It kind of feels…”
“Like dating.”
As soon as she said it, her expression suddenly crumpled a little. There was a hint of caught-off-guard panic in her eyes as she muttered softly, “I’m done for…”
Before Wen Yan could ask in surprise, she heard her mumble, “Estrogen is terrifying. I kind of want to get married and have a child now.”
Wen Yan laughed in spite of herself and reached out to hold her. Jin Zijin took the opportunity to step forward and cling tightly to her.
Jin Zijin pressed her cheek against Wen Yan’s warm neck, wrapping her arms around her waist and hanging softly from her body.
She rubbed against Wen Yan’s neck as if acting spoiled. “So it turns out that when romance-brain really kicks in, you truly start wanting a child.”
“One that’s like you and like me, a sharira born after our souls have merged…”
She buried her face deeper, letting out a small, broken wail. “Oh my god… hormones, you really are too scary.”
Wen Yan was amused by her expression.
She lifted a hand and gently stroked Jin Zijin’s back, over and over, with a tenderness that was almost absurd.
Lowering her head, she rested her chin on the top of Jin Zijin’s hair. “Zijin, you’ve said that several times already.”
She patted her back lightly, her voice earnest and soft. “Let me ask you this; do you really want a child that much?”
Jin Zijin immediately lifted her head from Wen Yan’s arms. Her eyes were bright, filled with starlight, and she nodded emphatically, her tone utterly sincere. “I really do!”
“I’ve told you before, I really like children!”
Looking at the hopeful light in her eyes, Wen Yan considered her words carefully. “Then I’ll think about it…”
Jin Zijin’s eyes widened at once. She stared at Wen Yan in shock, her voice rising slightly in disbelief. “Think about what?”
Wen Yan blinked, a trace of mischief flashing in her eyes. “About having a child.”
At that, she curved her lips. “While you’re all romance-drunk right now, and I’m not exactly thinking clearly either, we should think about it quickly.”
“Otherwise, when we’re both clear-headed later, maybe we won’t have this impulse anymore.”
“If we have a child, it’ll bind us together. Even if someday you don’t like me anymore and we have to separate, we’ll still have a chance to see each other again.”
“As long as we can meet, a lot of problems can be solved.”
Wen Yan thought she had been very considerate. Just then, however, Jin Zijin lifted her hand and slapped her palm flat against Wen Yan’s forehead.
Wen Yan blinked. “What’s wrong?”
Jin Zijin frowned, genuinely baffled. “You’re not even feverish, so why are you talking nonsense?”
“Did my estrogen rub off on you? Why are you acting this scary too?”
Wen Yan was startled, then immediately laughed helplessly.
TL Note:
sharira (舍利子) = a Buddhist relic; here it’s a joking way to mean a child born from their “merged souls.”