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Chapter 20: Intimacy

“Back to the room?” Jiang Liuyi blinked. “You mean to talk?”

Song Xian’s tone was composed. “Of course.”

Still dazed, Jiang Liuyi nodded and half-supported Song Xian back into the room. She had barely begun to speak about Lin Qiushui when her lips were sealed. What happened next blurred into a rush of passion—so seamless, it was as if dry kindling had simply caught flame.

Jiang Liuyi’s fire burned until Song Xian drifted off to sleep. Slipping out of bed, she went to pour herself some water. The warm liquid soothed her parched throat, easing the rawness. She sat on the sofa, glass in hand, her collarbone aching faintly. When she touched it, she found what felt like the imprint of teeth—Song Xian’s.

Her phone screen lit up with a string of missed calls from Lin Qiushui. She hadn’t responded all day, and Lin Qiushui, clearly losing patience, had followed up with several messages.

Standing by the window, Jiang Liuyi looked down at the traffic and dazzling lights. It was a long while before she finally replied: [I was busy this afternoon and missed your messages. I already spoke to Yu Bai—she’ll choose a style and send it to you.]

Lin Qiushui held her phone in silence. Yu Bai had insisted on dining alone with Jiang Liuyi, and since she had other obligations, she had arranged it for them, thinking Yu Bai might finally seize the chance. But from every angle, it seemed like she was only pushing Jiang Liuyi further away.

Maybe it was anger—anger over Yu Bai’s years-long absence.

But anger, after all, came from love.

With a quiet sigh, Lin Qiushui texted Jiang Liuyi: [Got it. Will you be coming to the office in the next few days?]

Before the marriage, Jiang Liuyi had often practiced in the company’s piano room. But since returning to China, she hadn’t once set foot there. Lin Qiushui figured it might be because of Qian Shen, so she followed up: [Qian Shen isn’t around.]

Jiang Liuyi lowered her gaze, pausing before she typed: [No. I won’t go.]

She could practice anywhere; it didn’t have to be the company. More than that, she didn’t particularly want to face Lin Qiushui right now.

Assuming she was simply tired, Lin Qiushui comforted her: [Then rest well at home for the next few days.]

There was no response.

Jiang Liuyi closed the chat window and tapped on Zhao Yuebai’s profile. Just as her finger hovered, the phone buzzed. Zhao Yuebai had already messaged: [ ? ]

She typed: [Accidentally tapped it.]

Zhao Yuebai: [What are you up to?]

Jiang Liuyi: [Drinking water.]

She sent the message off, still utterly baffled by Song Xian’s behavior earlier that day, and simply asked Zhao Yuebai: [So why did she want to go back to the room?]

Zhao Yuebai: [……]

Zhao Yuebai: [Oh come on, Yiyi, you really are clueless. When you’re upset, you always do something to numb yourself—like drinking, right?]

Jiang Liuyi: [Mm.]

Zhao Yuebai: [Exactly. Your wife’s doing the same thing. She’s upset but doesn’t want to show it too obviously, so she numbs herself this way. And being with you like that—it’s her way of feeling your presence more intensely.]

Oh—

So that’s what it was. Jiang Liuyi suddenly understood. No wonder Song Xian liked going into the room with her so much.

Before she could type a reply, Zhao Yuebai sent another message: [So tell me honestly, Yiyi—have you really let go of Yu Bai? If you haven’t, then I think you’re hurting your wife right now.]

Jiang Liuyi stared at that sentence for several seconds.

Let go of Yu Bai?

She should have—should have long since let go. After Yu Bai left, she drank heavily. The worst time had landed her in the hospital. And of course, there was that phone call. Could she really have clung on after that? No.

That very night, she booked a flight to Newss. From behind a wall, she had seen Yu Bai laughing and chatting with new classmates, showing not a hint of sorrow.

Even Lin Qiushui had asked if she’d been hurt by that phone call, but what pierced her most was Yu Bai’s attitude.

Like a blade driven straight into the softest part of her heart. From that moment on, she never spoke of Yu Bai again. At first it was out of fear—fear of the pain. Later, she simply learned not to care. Hearing Yu Bai’s name became no different than hearing about an old friend she hadn’t seen in years.

That flutter of the heart, that joy, that vision of growing old together had all been severed with Yu Bai’s departure. That’s why she chose to marry Song Xian.

She lowered her gaze and typed, word by word: [I’ve let go.]

Zhao Yuebai read those words, and for reasons she couldn’t name, her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. A wave of nasal sting rose from nowhere. Of all people, she had understood best just how deeply Jiang Liuyi had loved Yu Bai.

Back in school, she and Jiang Liuyi had been close. Because Jiang Liuyi loved playing piano, she often visited Zhao Yuebai’s house. When Jiang Liuyi was planning to confess to Yu Bai, their group of friends had come up with seven or eight ideas. In the end, Jiang Liuyi chose the least dramatic one—proving that, from the start, their love had been mismatched.

Because Yu Bai loved spectacle.

They hadn’t understood that then. Thought being together was enough. Zhao Yuebai still remembered asking once, “Why do you love Yu Bai?”

Jiang Liuyi had thought for a long while before answering, “Do you remember when Yu Bai got hurt for me?”

Zhao Yuebai nodded. “I remember. But is that the reason? Liuyi, love isn’t gratitude. It doesn’t need to be repaid like that.”

Jiang Liuyi had smiled and shaken her head. “Of course it’s not just that. But in that moment, I knew—I wanted to be good to her.”

She had said it with such sincerity, such unwavering focus.

And she had followed through. Jiang Liuyi had loved Yu Bai wholeheartedly. Everyone in their friend group knew her heart belonged to Yu Bai. When the weather turned cold, she brought her clothes. When it rained, she brought her an umbrella. They had all cheered her on.

None of them had imagined that a love so consuming would end up like this.

Qian Shen blamed Jiang Liuyi for being too heartless—choosing to marry someone else rather than wait for Yu Bai. Of course she was angry. Everyone had treated Yu Bai like a princess. But who ever worried about Jiang Liuyi?

After the breakup, how had Jiang Liuyi managed to get through those years? Had any of their friends thought about that?

They hadn’t.

Back then, Zhao Yuebai had assumed Jiang Liuyi still loved Yu Bai, so she had never intervened, letting the two continue to stay in touch. But now that she knew Jiang Liuyi had truly let go, she felt relieved—though also deeply moved.

Zhao Yuebai: [Letting go is good, Yiyi. Do you still remember when Yu Bai got hurt for you?]

Jiang Liuyi frowned: [What about it?]

Zhao Yuebai: [I’ve thought about it so many times. If I’d reached you first that day, I would’ve done the same.]

Jiang Liuyi’s frown deepened as she stared at the message. Sensing the potential misunderstanding, Zhao Yuebai quickly followed up: [Don’t get me wrong. I just think—that’s what a friend should do. If I’d blocked it for you back then, maybe none of this mess with Yu Bai would’ve ever happened.]

Then Jiang Liuyi wouldn’t have carried years of heartache, wouldn’t have spent so long in quiet misery.

Jiang Liuyi lowered her head. After a long silence, she replied: [I know. Thanks.]

Zhao Yuebai: [Thanks for what? Just remember to get me a decent gift on my birthday. Oh, and don’t forget to bring your wife. She’s clearly feeling insecure lately—you should pay attention to that.]

Jiang Liuyi couldn’t help but ask: [How do I make her feel more secure?]

Zhao Yuebai: [Isn’t it obvious? Let her feel your presence more.]

Jiang Liuyi stared at the message, thoughtful. After a while, she nodded to herself. A quiet sense of ease washed over her—perhaps because she’d finally said what Zhao Yuebai had asked.

“Have you let go of Yu Bai?”

She had.

Jiang Liuyi finished her glass of water and turned back toward the bedroom. At some point, Song Xian had already changed the sheets. Jiang Liuyi had noticed that her wife had a tendency toward fixation—no matter how tired she was, she insisted on fresh linens after intimacy. Sometimes Jiang Liuyi had already fallen asleep, only to wake on clean sheets.

It was a small quirk—but one Jiang Liuyi found endearing.

She got into bed and lifted the covers. Song Xian was lying on her side, back facing her. Zhao Yuebai’s words echoed in her mind: Let her feel your presence more.

Holding her—didn’t that count as presence too?

***

When Song Xian woke, she found herself being held. No wonder her dreams had felt vaguely uncomfortable. As she stretched and shifted, soreness crept through her limbs—aching and tender in equal measure. She turned her head to see Jiang Liuyi already awake.

She didn’t ask how they’d ended up like that, just assumed they’d held each other in their sleep.

Jiang Liuyi rubbed her hair. “Do you have work today?”

Song Xian walked toward the wardrobe before realizing the lights were still off. She pulled open the curtains, sunlight spilling into the room, flooding it with brightness.

“Yes,” she replied.

She casually grabbed a pale blue business suit—a pencil skirt that hugged her hips, revealing long, slender legs. No stockings.

Jiang Liuyi muttered, “Aren’t you cold?”

It was already October.

Song Xian pulled on her coat and replied coolly, “Not cold.”

Jiang Liuyi asked again, “Do you have a shoot today?”

Song Xian tilted her head. “No shoots today.”

“Oh,” Jiang Liuyi said.

Song Xian finished dressing and went into the bathroom to wash up. Not long after, she came out and began applying makeup with practiced efficiency.

Watching her move so briskly, Jiang Liuyi finally slipped out of bed in her slippers and, after a moment’s thought, decided to warm up some bread for her.

When Song Xian stepped out of the bedroom, she found Jiang Liuyi at the counter making milk. She paused at the kitchen threshold. Despite being married for some time now, it was the first time she’d ever seen Jiang Liuyi up early and bustling around in the kitchen.

In the past, Jiang Liuyi was either still asleep or already gone by the time morning came. The kitchen had always been Song Xian’s alone.

Now, in this familiar space, there was suddenly someone else. Song Xian wasn’t quite used to it.

Jiang Liuyi held up a mug. “Come eat.”

Song Xian nodded. “Coming.”

Jiang Liuyi placed the milk in front of her. As Song Xian turned, she saw her layering slices of bread on a plate, spreading butter, adding ham, then a fried egg, and topping it with another slice.

Almost like a sandwich.

Song Xian usually settled for two slices of plain bread and a glass of milk. She never went to such trouble. Even the butter had remained unopened until now.

Surprisingly, the bread with butter smelled quite good.

She took another bite. Jiang Liuyi asked, “How is it?”

“Pretty good,” Song Xian replied, genuinely complimenting her. A curious, quiet joy stirred at the tip of Jiang Liuyi’s heart. Finally, something more than ordinary.

She thought of Zhao Yuebai and said, “It’s Zhao Yuebai’s birthday. Want to pick out a dress?”

Song Xian lowered her head and chewed slowly. At Jiang Liuyi’s words, she looked up and said, “I’ll buy one after work.”

“Want me to come with you?” Jiang Liuyi asked.

Song Xian considered. “Let’s talk after work.”

“Want me to come with you?” Jiang Liuyi asked.

Song Xian considered. “Let’s talk after work.”

Jiang Liuyi fell silent.

After breakfast, Song Xian moved to the sofa to pack up her laptop. Sunlight leapt in through the window, draping over her figure—graceful and serene. Jiang Liuyi suddenly called out, “Song Xian.”

Song Xian had just finished tidying up and was ready to leave for work. She turned at the sound of her name. “What is it?”

Jiang Liuyi curled her hand into a fist at her side, her heart skipping a beat. She locked eyes with Song Xian for a few seconds, then walked over and wrapped her arms around her.

Was this enough—for Song Xian to feel her now?