Chapter 10
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Chapter 10: Holding Hands
She didn’t want to? Why not? That made no sense!
Jiang Liuyi couldn’t understand. She turned her head to watch Song Xian walk toward the window. With a soft creak, the pane swung open, letting in a warm breeze that gently lifted her hair, brushing it across her cheek in elegant arcs.
Song Xian tucked the stray strands behind her ear just as the phone buzzed in her hand. A few seconds later, He Xiaoying’s voice came through.
“Song Xian?” she asked, uncertain.
“It’s me,” Song Xian replied.
“Oh—your wife answered just now. Scared me half to death,” He Xiaoying said with a dramatic sigh of relief. Then, almost as an afterthought, “Her voice is really nice, by the way.”
Song Xian turned her head toward Jiang Liuyi. Their eyes met across the room.
“I know,” she said simply.
Back on topic, He Xiaoying asked, “Did she tell you what I called about?”
“No,” Song Xian said evenly. “What was it?”
He Xiaoying gave an embarrassed chuckle. “It’s nothing, really. I just thought you were the one picking up, and I accidentally mentioned Yu Cai…”
She hurried to add, “I swear I didn’t embellish anything. I just told the truth—word for word.”
Only then did Song Xian realize why Jiang Liuyi had suddenly agreed to the interview. On the other end of the line, He Xiaoying heard nothing but silence. She called out softly, a little tentative: “Song Xian?”
Crap. Why isn’t she saying anything? Is she mad? I knew I shouldn’t have said anything!
Just as regret started creeping in, Song Xian finally spoke. “Mm. Got it.”
“You two didn’t… fight, did you?” He Xiaoying asked, treading carefully.
“No,” Song Xian replied coolly.
He Xiaoying let out a long breath and patted her chest. “Good. That’s good. I was really afraid I’d started something between you two. Anyway, the reason I called—I’ve been talking to a lawyer I know. Pretty great, actually. Young, tall, handsome—”
Song Xian cut her off. “You’re not hiring Jiang Liuyi anymore?”
He Xiaoying paused. “Of course I want to. But she’d have to agree, right?”
“Then cancel the others,” Song Xian said.
He Xiaoying’s heart skipped for no reason. “Why?”
Song Xian answered, “I got Jiang Liuyi to agree.”
She couldn’t quite remember how the call had ended. All she felt was a faint buzzing in her ears, like firecrackers going off nearby. She set the phone down, sunlight spilling across her body—warm and gentle.
This was her favorite kind of weather—gentle sun, just the right breeze.
Jiang Liuyi sat on the sofa, her gaze drifting toward Song Xian. They hadn’t been together long. Back when they first got married, she had been buried in rehearsals because of the tour and barely had any time to spend with Song Xian. The only moments they shared were at night, sleeping in each other’s arms. Song Xian never once complained. She didn’t even step foot into the piano room, afraid she might disturb her.
That was just how Song Xian was—aware, considerate, never overstepping.
Jiang Liuyi lowered her gaze as a new message from Zhao Yuebai popped up on her phone. She said she wouldn’t be inviting Qian Shen to her birthday gathering, and that if it worked out, Jiang Liuyi could bring Song Xian along.
She thought for a moment before replying: [Okay. I’ll ask her.]
Zhao Yuebai: [Just tell her. She’ll definitely come. She likes you that much.]
Likes her?
From the uncertainty she’d felt at first, Jiang Liuyi was now nearly convinced.
But if she really liked her… why didn’t she want to know why she had stopped doing interviews back then?
Jiang Liuyi fiddled with her phone. The question had been gnawing at her for too long. In the end, she simply messaged Zhao Yuebai. The reply came almost instantly:
Zhao Yuebai: [Isn’t it obvious? Either she already knows the reason, or she thinks it’s something that hurt you—something from the past—and doesn’t want to bring it up in case it upsets you.]
So that was it.
Jiang Liuyi suddenly understood.
She was about to turn off her phone when another message came through:
Zhao Yuebai: [But listen—back when you and Yu Bai were together, the timing of you stopping interviews lined up with your breakup. So a lot of people assumed it was because of her. Maybe that’s what Song Xian thinks too. And if she asks about it, she might come off as jealous. That’s probably why she’s not asking. You should really explain it to her.]
Jiang Liuyi read that message over and over again.
Breaking up with Yu Bai. The interviews. She’d never imagined those two things could be linked in people’s minds. What nonsense.
She turned her head to look at her wife. “Song Xian.”
Song Xian turned toward her. The sunlight wrapped her in a soft glow, flecks of gold filtering through her hair and falling across her skin in translucent fragments. Her complexion had always been pale, but now her neck was marked with faint, ambiguous red. Especially across her collarbone—it stood out clearly.
Song Xian asked, “What is it?”
Jiang Liuyi stood and asked, “What do you want for lunch?”
Song Xian thought for a moment. “Want to try the spot downstairs?”
Jiang Liuyi had no objections. A walk sounded nice. As they headed down, her phone rang. Song Xian glanced at the screen—it was her younger sister calling. Jiang Liuyi hung up without hesitation.
Song Xian didn’t ask.
They walked toward the food street behind their complex. The area faced a river, with a pleasant view, and it drew a steady crowd. The restaurants there always did brisk business.
“What do you feel like eating?” Jiang Liuyi asked.
Song Xian looked toward a Chinese restaurant. “How about this one?”
Jiang Liuyi nodded. “Of course.”
They walked in together. Jiang Liuyi took the lead, Song Xian following behind. Since getting married, they’d rarely eaten out together. Now that Jiang Liuyi had agreed to the interview, Song Xian felt she should show her appreciation in kind.
They chose a window-side table. It wasn’t quite mealtime, so the place wasn’t crowded. Their spot had a lovely view—just a turn of the head revealed the river outside and the willow trees along its banks. When the wind blew, the willows swept across the water’s surface, leaving gentle ripples in their wake.
Song Xian handed the menu to Jiang Liuyi. “You order.”
Jiang Liuyi took the menu and ordered mapo tofu and roasted chicken. Then she looked up at Song Xian. “Do you want fish?”
“Anything’s fine,” Song Xian replied.
She was the one treating Jiang Liuyi to lunch—at this point, even if Jiang Liuyi ordered green peppers, Song Xian wouldn’t say a word.
Of course, Jiang Liuyi didn’t. In the end, she added a vegetable soup and handed the menu to Song Xian. “Take a look.”
Song Xian closed the menu and passed it to the waiter. Then they waited for the food to arrive.
After watching her for a few seconds, Jiang Liuyi asked, “When do we start the interview?”
“In the next couple of days. Are you free?” Song Xian asked.
Jiang Liuyi nodded. Her tour had just ended, and she was taking some time off.
“I’ll send you the schedule once it’s confirmed,” Song Xian said. Then added, “After we finish the shoot, would you be okay with joining us for a meal? It’s the one I mentioned—my coworkers want us to host something.”
“Sure,” Jiang Liuyi replied. “You set the time. Want me to book the restaurant?”
Song Xian shook her head. “No need. I’ve already reserved a private kitchen.”
While they were talking, the dishes arrived one after another. Jiang Liuyi looked at her and suddenly said, “Zhao Yuebai’s birthday is coming up in a few days. Do you remember Zhao Yuebai? She was sitting next to me yesterday…”
“I remember,” Song Xian said with a faint frown. “Am I supposed to go too?”
After getting married, these kinds of social obligations were inevitable.
Jiang Liuyi nodded. “I don’t have many friends.”
Song Xian lowered her head to take a bite of fish, her tone calm. “Alright. Got it.”
Her eyes were cast down, long lashes shadowing her cheeks. Her hair fell softly down her back, fringe veiling her fair forehead. Hearing her speak like that, Jiang Liuyi suddenly felt she was being so obedient—so quietly well-behaved it made her want to reach out and pat the top of her head.
Jiang Liuyi stared at her for a long moment.
Song Xian looked up. “What is it?”
She snapped back to herself. “Nothing. Let’s eat.”
After their meal, neither of them was in a rush to head back. They strolled along the riverbank. Both tall, both dressed with quiet refinement—women raised in the arts, with a grace that set them apart. Passersby couldn’t help but look.
Song Xian’s gaze was serene, cool, distant. Jiang Liuyi, with her sharp features and striking presence, looked almost cold when she didn’t smile. No one dared approach. Some circled past more than once, deliberately slowing their steps.
Jiang Liuyi said, “My first in-depth interview was after the Paris Music Festival. I didn’t know much back then—what could or couldn’t be said. So I said everything. Afterward, the journalist wrote a scathing article that twisted my words. Said I was arrogant. The whole internet tore me apart.”
“I said once in an interview that I liked Eisen,” Jiang Liuyi continued. “She implied my work bordered on plagiarism.”
She’d been too young then—too raw. A single blow had felt like the sky was falling. After that, she stopped accepting interviews altogether.
Song Xian listened intently, eyes dim and unreadable. There was something churning beneath the surface—an undercurrent of emotion. But on closer look, it was calm again, like still water.
Jiang Liuyi turned to her. “So don’t listen to what the media says. My refusal to give interviews had nothing to do with breaking up with Yu Bai.”
Song Xian didn’t understand why she suddenly felt the need to explain, but she still responded. “Oh.”
She stopped in her tracks and turned to face Jiang Liuyi directly. Their eyes met—steady and serious.
“But I don’t think you need to care so much about what others say,” she said. “The road to success is always a lonely one. Some will offer you flowers, others will throw bricks. Gather those bricks, stack them beneath your feet—only then can you stand higher, see farther, become better.”
She paused deliberately for a few seconds before continuing, “And you already are. That’s plain for all to see.”
The blazing sun poured down without mercy, scorching and blinding. Jiang Liuyi didn’t move a muscle—didn’t even blink. Her heart, steady just moments ago, had begun to pick up pace without her realizing it, each beat igniting like a spark.
You’re exceptional.
You were born for music.
She had heard these words hundreds, maybe thousands of times over the years—but this was different.
Completely, utterly different.
Jiang Liuyi had never imagined that such a seemingly ordinary sentence from Song Xian could stir her emotions so deeply. When had things started to shift?
Seeing her silent, Song Xian frowned slightly and leaned in, about to ask what was wrong. Just then, a passerby deliberately veered too close, attempting to brush up against her. Jiang Liuyi reacted quickly, pulling Song Xian to her side and shooting the man a glare.
The stranger scratched his nose awkwardly and walked off, pretending it had been unintentional.
Jiang Liuyi turned to Song Xian. “Are you alright?”
Song Xian shook her head. “I’m fine.”
They continued walking, but this time, Jiang Liuyi subtly shifted, placing Song Xian on the inside of the path, shielding her as if on purpose. Whenever someone passed too closely, Jiang Liuyi would shift slightly to the side, and in doing so, her hand occasionally brushed against Song Xian’s.
She lowered her gaze. Song Xian’s hands were beautiful—pale, slender, with clean joints and cool skin. She remembered how Song Xian’s favorite way to hold hands was with their fingers tightly interlaced. Those hands, soft and boneless, always felt like they would melt into hers.
All of a sudden, Jiang Liuyi found herself wondering—what would it feel like to hold Song Xian’s hand now?
Song Xian glanced down, then looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
Caught off guard, Jiang Liuyi blurted out, “Nothing.”
Song Xian raised an eyebrow slightly, puzzled. “Then why are you holding my hand?”
Jiang Liuyi: …
