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Chapter 19: Comfort

Song Xian found herself unexpectedly embraced. She turned to look at Jiang Liuyi, shifted slightly, and felt the hold tighten. Her brows knit. Had something unpleasant happened during dinner with Yu Bai, and now she needed comfort?

Well, wasn’t that the reason they got married in the first place? To “comfort” each other?

Song Xian asked, “You finished dinner?”

Jiang Liuyi buried her face in the crook of Song Xian’s neck, her voice muffled. “Mm.”

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Song Xian said.

She’d only stuffed down some bread that morning and had a few sips of warm water. She wasn’t exactly hungry, but—

“I brought you omurice,” Jiang Liuyi said.

“I don’t want that,” Song Xian replied with a shake of her head.

Was she feeling so unwell she couldn’t even eat something comforting?

“Not hungry?” Jiang Liuyi asked, guilt creeping into her voice.

Song Xian turned her head. A flicker of fire sparked in her usually composed eyes. She put down her eye drops, closed the laptop, and said, “I want something else.”

Jiang Liuyi met her gaze, her hands tightening on Song Xian’s shoulders.

Suddenly, she remembered the first time they met. She had mistaken Song Xian for someone else, apologized, and it was Song Xian who had taken the initiative to greet her.

“Do I really look that much like someone you know?”

She had said, “Only at a glance.”

That first glimpse, the side profile bore a slight resemblance—but upon closer look, the differences were clear. And their temperaments couldn’t have been more distinct. Song Xian was quiet, the kind of quiet that chilled like still water.

She had thought their connection would end with those two brief lines, but then Song Xian asked, “Who was she to you? An ex-girlfriend?”

She’d hesitated a moment before nodding.

Then Song Xian asked, “How long since you broke up?”

She gave it some thought. “Almost three years.”

After answering, she looked at Song Xian. “Is there a reason you’re asking?”

Song Xian replied, “No reason. If you’re free, want to find a place to sit for a while?”

She’d heard that kind of pick-up line a hundred times, always politely declining. But when she met the calm gaze in Song Xian’s eyes, she’d followed her without hesitation.

She had thought that being with someone as quiet as Song Xian would be peaceful—no waves, no turbulence. She’d been wrong. When they were alone, Song Xian was anything but quiet. She was like water constantly at a boil. Jiang Liuyi had been steeped in that heat ever since—like now.

Song Xian had deliberately hooked her arms around her neck, draping herself entirely over her, all her weight pressing close. That one comment now carried an entirely different meaning. Jiang Liuyi asked, “Aren’t you hungry?”

The woman in her arms softened her voice. “Starving.”

The same word—yet entirely different meanings.

Jiang Liuyi couldn’t help herself. She leaned down, wanting to kiss Song Xian. But just as their lips were about to touch, Song Xian whispered, “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Jiang Liuyi lifted her into her arms, while Song Xian’s hands roamed beneath her clothes with reckless intent.

Jiang Liuyi stumbled, barely catching herself against the wall. Just then, Song Xian withdrew her hand, leaving a flicker of disappointment in her wake. Jiang Liuyi quickly regained her footing and carried her the rest of the way, stepping briskly into the bedroom.

The curtains were drawn. Inside and outside became two separate worlds.

Daylight had long since fallen into dusk when the ringtone of a phone stirred Song Xian awake. In the dark, she moved with practiced ease, not bumping into a single thing. Exiting the room, she picked up her phone. It was a call from Yuan Hong, asking how the photo edits were going.

Song Xian sat down and replied, “Almost done. I’ll send them to you shortly.”

Yuan Hong chuckled. “Great. Don’t push yourself too hard. Headache today?”

Song Xian pressed her fingers to her temples and answered calmly, “It’s alright. Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Yuan Hong let out a relieved sigh. “And Miss Jiang? Is she okay? Xiaoying and the others got a little too wild yesterday.”

Song Xian responded coolly, “She’s fine. We both are.”

“Good to hear,” Yuan Hong said, reassured. “I’ll let you get back to it then. See you tomorrow.”

Song Xian set down the phone, opened her laptop, and resumed editing the photos. After a while, hunger set in. She glanced at the omurice Jiang Liuyi had brought back. After a quick reheat, she sat down at the table, eating while working.

Photos of Jiang Liuyi were especially easy to edit—partly because of her natural beauty. Although it wasn’t her appearance that first drew Song Xian in, she couldn’t deny that it had played a role in her decision to marry her.

Who doesn’t like beautiful things?

She was no exception.

Song Xian finished the edits swiftly and sent them off to the director. Yuan Hong had just gotten home and was settling in when the files arrived. She opened them casually—but the moment the images appeared, her movements slowed, a flicker of astonishment lighting up her eyes.

Of course she’d seen Jiang Liuyi before—she’d even had dinner with her just last night—but seeing her suddenly like this, framed through the lens, felt like an electric jolt.

She’s stunning.

No wonder the beauty editors always raved about working with Song Xian, saying her photos somehow made you fall in love with the person in them. Yuan Hong used to laugh at how dramatic they sounded. But opening this set just now—she had to admit, it wasn’t an exaggeration.

Her heart really did skip a beat for a few seconds. Though it quickly settled, the initial awe those images sparked couldn’t be erased.

Such skill—behind the lens and in the edits. And what a face.

Delighted, Yuan Hong forwarded the photos to the design editor. As expected, the other end responded with a flood of excited screeches that practically exploded off the screen. 

[Help!!!! This is insanely gorgeous!!!!! Every day I bow before Song Xian’s divine hands!!!!!]

It really was impressive. Even Yuan Hong, who didn’t understand much about photography, could grasp the essence. 

She messaged the editor: [Arrange it properly. Don’t drop the ball.]

Editor: [Drop the ball? Are you kidding? Sister Yuan, I swear, even if I threw these up without layout or headlines, it’d still fly off the shelves!]

Yuan Hong tapped on her avatar: [Quit the nonsense. Get to editing.]

Editor: [Yes ma’am, right away, Sister Yuan.]

Amused, Yuan Hong chuckled, then turned to message Song Xian: [Great work. These turned out beautifully. I sent them to Xiao Li—she said your shots were amazing.]

Song Xian had just finished her omurice when she saw the message. She paused, replied, then swiped away. The screen still displayed recent updates on Bai Ye’s schedule. She glanced at it for a moment before locking her phone.

When Jiang Liuyi stepped out in her robe, she saw that Song Xian had just finished eating. She walked over. “That’s all you had for dinner?”

Song Xian turned to her. “You’re awake?”

Jiang Liuyi rubbed her hair and murmured an “mm” as she came up behind her. “Did you get enough to eat? Should I order more later?”

Song Xian set down her spoon. “I’m full.”

Jiang Liuyi gave a soft “oh.”

She turned into the bathroom to freshen up. When she came out, Song Xian had already cleared the dishes from the table. Since Song Xian had eaten, Jiang Liuyi didn’t really feel like ordering food just for herself. She went to the kitchen and made a bowl of instant noodles. While frying an egg, she poked her head out and asked, “Do you want a fried egg?”

Without even turning her head, Song Xian replied, “No.”

Jiang Liuyi: …

She paused for a second, then quietly ate alone.

Song Xian was still busy at her computer. Jiang Liuyi asked, “You’re still working?”

Song Xian looked up at her and replied coolly, “Finished.”

The only reason she was still working was because the photo set turned out so beautifully that He Xiaoying had asked her to turn one into a desktop wallpaper. Normally the design editor would’ve handled it, but Xiao Li was busy with the layout, so He Xiaoying had come to her instead. Song Xian had just finished one when another colleague messaged her with a request, so she hadn’t had a chance to rest.

Jiang Liuyi asked, puzzled, “If you’re done, then what are you still doing?”

“I’m making a wallpaper,” Song Xian replied, dragging an image into place.

Jiang Liuyi walked up behind her, noodle bowl in hand, and saw that Song Xian was turning one of her own photos into a desktop background. It was a profile shot, subtly edited so she appeared to be gazing off into the distance—it had a quiet, contemplative atmosphere.

She hadn’t expected Song Xian to use one of her photos for something like that. A strange warmth rose to her ears. Song Xian turned and asked, “What do you think?”

She was actually asking for her opinion.

Jiang Liuyi pushed down the odd feeling and cleared her throat. “It’s fine.”

Song Xian said, “I think so too.”

She saved the file. Jiang Liuyi said, “Send me a copy too.”

Without hesitation, Song Xian nodded. “Sure. Just this one?”

Jiang Liuyi asked, “Are there others?”

Song Xian showed her all the wallpaper variations she’d just made. A flush crept up Jiang Liuyi’s cheeks, her whole face warm. “Then just send me all of them,” she said.

She carried her noodle bowl away with a calm expression, but her steps were slightly uneven.

Song Xian sent over the entire set of edited images.

After washing her bowl, Jiang Liuyi sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, habitually rinsing her mouth and biting into a mint. The coolness spread quickly across her tongue, cutting through that lingering heat.

When she looked up, she saw Song Xian still at her desk. Resting her phone on her knee, she noticed a message from Lin Qiushui apologizing for earlier that day. She paused, but didn’t reply. A faint discomfort stirred in her chest.

Below that was a message from Zhao Yuebai: [Liuyi, help me choose—which dress looks better?]

It was for her birthday. In the past, messages like that from Zhao Yuebai would’ve gone straight into their group chat. Remembering that, Jiang Liuyi opened the group to check. After her argument with Qian Shen, Zhao Yuebai hadn’t said a word—not even mentioned her upcoming birthday.

Between red and white, Jiang Liuyi picked the red one. Zhao Yuebai replied instantly: [I thought so too. That’s the one then. What’re you up to? Haven’t heard from you all afternoon.]

Jiang Liuyi replied: [Was sleeping.]

Zhao Yuebai: [Look at you.]

Jiang Liuyi held her phone a moment, then suddenly sent over a few images.

Zhao Yuebai: [?]

Jiang Liuyi: [Help me pick a desktop wallpaper.]

Zhao Yuebai: [Using your own photo as wallpaper—aren’t you something.]

Jiang Liuyi: [My wife made them.]

Zhao Yuebai: […]

In the end, Zhao Yuebai chose three and said it was harder than picking her own dress. Seeing her picks, a soft smile tugged at Jiang Liuyi’s lips. Then Zhao Yuebai asked: [Heard you saw Yu Bai again today?]

That smile froze, slowly fading from Jiang Liuyi’s face. After a long pause, she finally replied: [It was for work.]

Zhao Yuebai: [Sure, work is work. But I still think you ought to tell your wife. She loves you so much—if she found out you met up in private, she’d be heartbroken.]

Jiang Liuyi suddenly thought of how Song Xian had cried when she came home today.

She fell silent for a few seconds. When she noticed Song Xian closing her laptop, she walked over and sat beside her on the couch. The two settled into the cushions without a word. Song Xian rubbed the back of her neck, and after a beat, Jiang Liuyi asked quietly, “All finished?”

Song Xian nodded. “Mm, all done.”

Jiang Liuyi hesitated for a moment before saying her name. “Song Xian.”

Song Xian turned her head slightly. Jiang Liuyi said, “Originally, I was supposed to have lunch with Qiushui today. But when I got there, she had to leave for something… so I ended up having lunch with Yu Bai.”

Yu Bai? Song Xian’s brows pinched together. Why was her ex being brought up again?

Was this another plea for comfort?

Forget it. She understood—full stomachs often stirred other appetites.

Song Xian reached out her hand, looked at Jiang Liuyi, and said, “Carry me to bed.”