Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW

You can buy coins here to unlock advanced chapters: https://gravitytales.com/coins-purchase-page/

Chapter 32: Shifting Gears

The traffic light took so long to change that when it finally turned green, Song Xian didn’t even register it. Only when the car behind them honked did she press the gas and head home.

The drive passed in silence. Neither of them was fond of small talk to begin with, and especially not Song Xian—when she focused on something, she gave it her full attention. Driving was no exception. Jiang Liuyi, meanwhile, sat watching the view through the window.

Suddenly, the phone in her bag buzzed. Jiang Liuyi looked down and saw a string of complaints from Zhao Yuebai.

Zhao Yuebai: [I’m so annoyed. I told my family not to invite Qian Shen and the others, but they insisted, saying there might be future collaborations. They’ve already sent the invites.]

Zhao Yuebai: [And all those other people too.]

Zhao Yuebai: [I’m sorry, Liuyi. Maybe your wife shouldn’t come tomorrow after all, in case it upsets her.]

Jiang Liuyi lowered her gaze. Qian Shen was arguably the most privileged among them—her family was well-off, and her older sister was a celebrity. It had shaped her into someone sharp and difficult. Still, it was undeniable: back then, many in their circle had clung to her, eager to curry favor.

Zhao Yuebai’s family inviting Qian Shen didn’t surprise her at all. But even so, she would still go with Song Xian, openly and without shame.

She knew this put Zhao Yuebai in a tough position, so she replied: [It’s fine. I’ll talk to Song Xian about it.]

Zhao Yuebai followed up with another message, clearly feeling guilty. [I’m really sorry. If I’d known earlier, I wouldn’t have invited your wife.]

Jiang Liuyi paused, then turned her head. Song Xian’s profile was calm, her eyes catching glints of light from the passing streetlamps. Jiang Liuyi said, “Song Xian, we’re going to Zhao Yuebai’s place tomorrow—it’s her birthday…” She hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Her other friends will be there too.”

Song Xian didn’t quite understand why Jiang Liuyi was telling her this. Weren’t those friends Zhao Yuebai’s usual crowd? Wouldn’t it be normal for them to be there? What was the point of bringing it up?

She couldn’t quite figure it out and frowned slightly.

Jiang Liuyi said, “I know you don’t have a good impression of them. If you don’t want to go tomorrow, I—”

So that’s what this was about.

Song Xian spoke up. “It’s fine.”

Jiang Liuyi paused. “Really?”

Song Xian nodded. “Of course it’s fine.”

Jiang Liuyi gave a slight nod. “Then… if you hear them gossiping tomorrow, don’t take it to heart.”

Song Xian replied with complete seriousness, “Why would I?”

She was genuinely asking, with no sarcasm or bitterness. The simplicity of the question stirred something in Jiang Liuyi. She’s right. Why should we care? Let them say whatever they want. As long as we live our life well together, what do their words or opinions matter?

In the end, it was Song Xian who had the more grounded perspective.

Once Jiang Liuyi sorted out her thoughts, the inner conflict dissolved. She replied to Zhao Yuebai, [My wife says it’s fine. We’ll be there on time.]

Zhao Yuebai breathed a little easier. Among that group of friends, Jiang Liuyi was the only one she kept in regular contact with. Just a few days ago, Yu Bai had reached out, clearly trying to find a way in through her. In response, Zhao Yuebai simply sent a screenshot of the message she’d sent two years ago, inviting Yu Bai to return to China. Yu Bai hadn’t replied since.

If you made a choice, you had to live with the consequences.

What made her think Jiang Liuyi would stand still, waiting for her?

And those other clueless friends—if her family hadn’t done the inviting, Zhao Yuebai wouldn’t have included a single one of them. But this was a part of her social obligations, unavoidable.

Her emotions tangled, Zhao Yuebai lifted her glass of red wine and drained it in one go, then sent Jiang Liuyi one last message: [See you tomorrow.]

Jiang Liuyi didn’t reply. She turned off her phone just as they arrived home. Song Xian went to shower first. When she came out, Jiang Liuyi was walking out of the piano room, holding a long rectangular box. Song Xian walked over and frowned slightly. “What’s that?”

“A hand cast,” Jiang Liuyi replied. “There’s only two months left until the Spring Festival Gala. CCTV wants me to perform. The company sent this to measure my hand size for custom jewelry.”

Song Xian nodded, not particularly interested. Instead, she turned as if to leave, but Jiang Liuyi tilted her head, watching her for a moment before calling out, “Song Xian.”

“Come here and press down on this,” Jiang Liuyi said.

Song Xian gave her a sidelong glance but obediently walked over and pressed down on the mold. Immediately, the other side revealed the imprint of a hand and fingers, clearly defined. It reminded her of a time back in school when she and some classmates had gone out and played with something similar—though back then, they’d used their whole bodies. It was a surprisingly soothing activity.

Jiang Liuyi set aside the hand mold Song Xian had helped with. She planned to measure it later and buy a ring. Song Xian shouldn’t have to give everything and receive nothing in return. A proposal was nonnegotiable.

She carefully packed away her own mold and returned it to the piano room. Meanwhile, Song Xian sat on the couch watching TV, eyes drifting now and then toward Jiang Liuyi moving in and out of the room. Her gaze eventually settled on the half-open door. Suddenly, she remembered the time she’d called Jiang Liuyi and heard those musical notes over the phone.

The melody had been delicate and lilting, a tune that brought a sense of peace.

She watched the open doorway for a long while, not realizing her gaze had lingered. When Jiang Liuyi stepped out and saw her looking inside, she asked, “What is it?”

Song Xian snapped out of it.

Jiang Liuyi smiled. “Do you want to hear me play something?”

Now that she mentioned it, Song Xian had never once asked her to perform. She paused, then said, “Is that okay?”

Jiang Liuyi nodded. “Of course. What would you like to hear?”

“That piece from last time,” Song Xian said. “When I called to notify you about the presale—you were playing it then.”

Jiang Liuyi thought back and remembered right away. “You mean that one? That’s a wal—”

“Waltz,” Song Xian nodded. “I know.”

Jiang Liuyi blinked, a little surprised. It was a famous piece, yes, but most people wouldn’t go out of their way to remember its name. She asked, “Do you like playing piano too?”

Song Xian replied, “Someone in my family runs a music studio. I used to play a bit and heard a few pieces growing up.”

Jiang Liuyi nodded, then headed into the piano room. She turned back and said, “Come in.”

Song Xian followed.

Worried about bothering the neighbors, Jiang Liuyi always closed the door before she played. The room had been soundproofed, so the music never escaped beyond its walls.

Quiet notes began to ripple from Jiang Liuyi’s fingertips. Her touch on the keys was fluid and confident, each motion carrying an effortless elegance. Song Xian stood off to the side, listening intently, as though she were being drawn into the melody.

The only thing moving in the room was the music itself. Midway through the piece, Jiang Liuyi glanced sideways. Song Xian was leaning lightly against the edge of the piano, her eyes lowered, lost in thought.

In that moment, she seemed entirely immersed in a world of her own.

Jiang Liuyi couldn’t help but call her name. “Song Xian.”

Song Xian turned her head and met Jiang Liuyi’s gaze. She let out a soft “Mm?” and looked at her with quiet curiosity.

“Did you like it?” Jiang Liuyi asked.

Song Xian gave a faint smile. “It was beautiful.”

She was always honest—if something was just okay, she’d say so. If it was mediocre, she’d say that too. So if she said it sounded beautiful, then it truly was.

Jiang Liuyi smiled in quiet satisfaction. Her fingers glided more freely across the keys. When the waltz ended, she played another piece with a similar rhythm. Song Xian simply stood by her side, listening quietly, saying nothing more.

By the time the second piece ended, Song Xian was still so absorbed she didn’t even notice.

Jiang Liuyi chuckled to herself. Was it really that captivating? She’s completely spellbound.

She called her name again. “Song Xian.”

Song Xian turned, finally realizing Jiang Liuyi had already stood up. She straightened as well. Jiang Liuyi said, “If you want to hear more, I’ll play again tomorrow.”

She practiced every day anyway.

Song Xian murmured an “Okay,” saying nothing more, and the two of them left the piano room together.

After they stepped out, Song Xian began drying her hair. She glanced over and saw Jiang Liuyi taking a towel with her to the shower. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom, blending with the steady hum of the blow dryer. Song Xian felt a sudden flush of warmth.

She lowered the air conditioning temperature. Once her hair was dry, she headed to the living room for some water. There, on the coffee table, she noticed a gift from He Xiaoying—a wedding present they still hadn’t opened. Curious, she walked over and unwrapped it. The moment she saw what was inside, she nearly choked on her drink.

Dangling from her fingers was a piece of lingerie—silk, sheer, tight-fitting. The kind of thing that might as well be invisible once worn. Instantly, her mind conjured the image of Jiang Liuyi in it…

Song Xian swallowed hard, forcing the thought away. She set the lingerie aside and saw there were other things in the box too.

When Jiang Liuyi came out of the bathroom, her hair still damp, she saw Song Xian sitting on the edge of the bed examining something. She walked over and asked, “What are you looking at?”

Without even glancing up, Song Xian replied, “The instruction manual.”

Instruction manual? For what?

Jiang Liuyi didn’t dwell on it. She went over to dry her hair. The blow dryer buzzed steadily as she looked into the mirror, catching a glimpse of Song Xian behind her. She seemed to set the manual down and pick something else up, then disappeared into the bathroom with quiet urgency.

Jiang Liuyi kept drying her hair, focused and unaware.

A moment later, Song Xian came out of the bathroom again and returned to studying the instruction manual. Jiang Liuyi, now curious, sat down beside her with her hair still half-damp. Under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, she saw the words Instruction Manual and glanced over the accompanying diagrams.

Her lips twitched slightly.

Then Song Xian said, “Hold this.”

Before Jiang Liuyi could respond, Song Xian placed something into her hand. It was freshly washed, still damp. Jiang Liuyi froze, heart thudding in her chest. She glanced sideways at Song Xian, who was busy fiddling with something, frowning. “Why isn’t it working?”

Trying her best to be helpful, Jiang Liuyi said, “The switch isn’t on.”

Song Xian frowned and pressed the button. “It is on.”

“Long press it,” Jiang Liuyi murmured.

Song Xian paused, then did as instructed. A soft buzzing sound suddenly hummed from Jiang Liuyi’s palm, growing steadily more intense with each passing second. The vibrations tingled, sharp and electric.

Jiang Liuyi couldn’t understand why, in the middle of the night, she and Song Xian were on their bed discussing how to use an adult toy.

Upon hearing the sound, Song Xian gave a small nod. “Got it.”

She still looked completely serious. Meanwhile, Jiang Liuyi’s cheeks flushed with heat. She glanced at Song Xian—the flutter of her long lashes, the pale glow of her skin, her beautiful profile. Those soft lips parted slightly as she spoke, and suddenly Jiang Liuyi blurted, “Song Xian.”

Her voice came out husky, laced with something unreadable.

Song Xian glanced at her, understood instantly, and walked to the door. With a soft click, she turned off the light. In the darkness, Jiang Liuyi reached out by instinct and caught Song Xian as she approached.

“Why did you buy this?” she asked.

“It’s from He Xiaoying,” Song Xian replied.

A wedding gift for the evening, of course. No wonder He Xiaoying had looked so bashful when handing it over. Song Xian added, “I wanted to try it.”

Jiang Liuyi lowered her head and bit her lip. “Why?”

Song Xian’s answer was muffled by the kiss. “My hand gets sore.”

There was even a hint of grievance in her tone.

Jiang Liuyi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Just as she was about to speak, she felt it—that strange sensation. Something cool pressed intimately against her, and the heat of Song Xian’s palm followed, searing by contrast.

Song Xian was left breathless by the kiss. As she turned her head, her fingers brushed the control again, and the vibration pulsed sharply through Jiang Liuyi’s body. Her muscles tensed. She clutched Song Xian’s shoulders, instinctively bowing her head as if to bite her neck hard—but when her teeth met skin, she hesitated, reluctant, and instead eased her pressure. Still, the stimulation surged through her in waves, unrelenting.

Song Xian clearly had no idea how to handle the device. Jiang Liuyi, unable to bear the stillness, pressed herself closer, letting go of the spot she’d just bitten. Gasping softly, she murmured, “Song Xian… change… change the setting.”