Chapter 9
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Chapter 9: Don’t Want To
Jiang Liuyi rarely drank.
Outside of the occasional glass of red wine at formal events, she almost never touched alcohol. But tonight was an exception—and Song Xian paid the price for it.
Alcohol turned Jiang Liuyi into someone else entirely: domineering, relentless. No position seemed to satisfy her. She wasn’t drunk, not completely—but she wasn’t exactly sober, either. Song Xian usually let her take the lead in bed, but tonight was different. Her body simply couldn’t keep up. By the end, she didn’t even have the strength to change the sheets.
And Jiang Liuyi, of course, needed light. Without it, she couldn’t tell which side of the bed had the clean linens. The room filled with the sound of drawers opening and closing, items clattering to the floor. Song Xian hadn’t realized just how much clutter they’d accumulated.
“Did you find them?” she asked, her voice weak.
Jiang Liuyi’s tone, softened by wine, held a touch of wounded grievance. “No.”
Song Xian had no choice but to get out of bed. After just two steps, she nearly fell—but a steady hand caught her. They both tumbled onto the carpet. Song Xian tried to sit up, bracing herself against Jiang Liuyi for support. Her hands landed squarely on bare skin—soft and warm beneath her palms. Breath ghosted against her neck as they faced each other, and Jiang Liuyi’s face nestled just above her collarbone.
“I need to get up,” Song Xian said hoarsely.
But Jiang Liuyi wrapped her arms around her in an instant. “Let’s sleep on the carpet tonight.”
Song Xian refused. “No.”
Jiang Liuyi said, “It’s spacious here. You nearly fell off the bed just now.”
Song Xian: …
Why was she even arguing with a drunk? Especially about something so pointless? She gave up.
Then she heard Jiang Liuyi murmur, “Okay? Let’s just sleep here tonight.”
Several seconds passed before Song Xian replied, “Fine—but you have to promise me one thing.”
Jiang Liuyi’s voice was slurred. “What thing?”
Song Xian hesitated. What she was about to say felt too much like taking advantage. So instead, she said, “I’ll tell you when you’re sober.”
Jiang Liuyi muttered, “I’m perfectly sober right now.”
Song Xian almost laughed. “You…”
But Jiang Liuyi silenced her with a kiss. “I still know how to kiss you,” she whispered.
Whatever words Song Xian had left were swallowed by Jiang Liuyi, melting into soft, tangled moans. The next round of their battle began—right there on the carpet. Song Xian bit her lip, hands clutching at the plush fibers of the blanket.
Jiang Liuyi’s tongue moved like it was dancing, darting and teasing. As fireworks exploded behind her eyes, Song Xian found herself thinking—Jiang Liuyi did know how to kiss her. Knew it intimately. Masterfully.
The rest of the night blurred into chaos. Tangled limbs. Unruly passion.
The next day, both of them slept past noon. Jiang Liuyi was the first to wake. She fumbled around, trying to find her phone, only to realize—after several minutes of searching—that she was lying on the floor. As she shifted, she brushed against Song Xian beside her.
In her memory, Song Xian was always meticulous. No matter how tired she was after they were done, she’d insist on changing the sheets. Sleeping on the floor like this—this was a first. She must have been completely exhausted last night.
A faint pang of guilt rose in Jiang Liuyi’s chest. She moved carefully, tiptoeing to the door. Opening it just a sliver, she located her phone. Instead of turning on the lights, she used the soft glow from the screen to navigate the room. She laid out fresh sheets and gently lifted Song Xian into her arms, carrying her back to bed.
It was rare for Song Xian to sleep this soundly. Jiang Liuyi remembered how light her sleep used to be—she was always the first to stir when the alarm went off, and even the slightest sound could jolt her awake. But now, even being carried didn’t rouse her. When Jiang Liuyi laid her down on the bed, she simply turned over and continued sleeping.
In the faint light of her phone, Jiang Liuyi studied Song Xian’s profile—every detail so finely etched it seemed unreal. Even with her eyes closed, the arc of her lashes looked deliberately sculpted, so flawless it bordered on absurd.
Her sleeping face was peaceful—just like her nature. Calm, composed, and untouchably serene.
Jiang Liuyi turned off her phone and left the bedroom. After washing up, she settled onto the living room sofa and opened the messages from Lin Qiushui. She’d muted the group chat last night, so Lin had messaged her directly instead.
Lin Qiushui: [Liuyi, Shen really did go too far. We’ve already talked to her.]
Lin Qiushui: [Still upset?]
Lin Qiushui: [Don’t be. Zhao Yuebai nearly got into a fight with her over you.]
Lin Qiushui: [Reply when you see this. Yuebai’s birthday is coming up—are you going?]
Zhao Yuebai had always been impulsive—quick-tempered, easily riled—but when it came to friends, she was steadfast. Jiang Liuyi remembered the day she was kicked out of the Jiang family; it was Zhao Yuebai and Yu Bai who came to pick her up. Because of it, both of them had been punished with two extra weeks of rural fieldwork.
Since her breakup with Yu Bai, every time the group reminisced about the past, Zhao Yuebai would find a way to shift the topic. Jiang Liuyi wasn’t oblivious. And she had already chosen a birthday gift.
After a brief pause, she replied:
Jiang Liuyi: [I’ll be there.]
Not long after, Lin Qiushui replied:
Lin Qiushui: [You finally answered me. If you hadn’t, I was about to file a missing persons report. Yiyi, I know you weren’t happy last night, but half of our company still belongs to Shen. We’re bound to cross paths. If you run into her, just pretend you didn’t. Don’t stay upset.]
Jiang Liuyi toyed with her phone for a while but didn’t reply.
She was still lost in thought when her phone buzzed again. Glancing down, she saw a new message from Zhao Yuebai:
Zhao Yuebai: [Qiushui said you’re coming to my birthday?]
Jiang Liuyi: [Mm. I’ll be there.]
Zhao Yuebai: [Yiyi, back when you were with Yu Bai, I was one hundred percent in favor. To me, you two were made for each other. But now, you’re married—you have a wife. So I don’t want to see you make a mistake.]
Something in Jiang Liuyi’s heart softened at the message. Among all their friends, Zhao Yuebai might be the only one who genuinely wished her well.
Truthfully, her decision to marry Song Xian had been impulsive—a little reckless, maybe even spurred by resentment. But the moment she signed that marriage certificate, she’d made up her mind to let go of the past completely.
There would be no mistakes. Marriage meant she had no intention of turning back.
Jiang Liuyi typed: [Got it.]
Zhao Yuebai: [Good. You’ve always been the most clear-headed of us all.]
But whenever it came to Yu Bai, she always made an exception. Always lost control.
She could only hope this time wouldn’t be a repeat of the past.
A few seconds later, Zhao Yuebai sent another message:
Zhao Yuebai: [One more thing. Doesn’t the company you’re at have shares under Shen’s name? She’s super petty. If things ever get too uncomfortable there, I can ask my brother to help you transfer to another company?]
Jiang Liuyi stared at the message.
Before returning to China, she’d received offers from plenty of companies—but turned them all down. After she left the Jiang family, it was these friends who had helped her. She couldn’t just forget that. That’s why she never left.
But if Qian Shen really was going to cause trouble…
Jiang Liuyi stayed silent for a long moment before replying:
Jiang Liuyi: [Let’s talk about it later.]
Zhao Yuebai didn’t push the topic any further. Jiang Liuyi tossed her phone onto the coffee table. Just then, she heard a ringtone near the front door. Walking over, she saw it was Song Xian’s phone—He Xiaoying’s name flashing on the screen.
Jiang Liuyi picked it up and headed toward the bedroom door. She paused for a few seconds, glancing at the still-sleeping Song Xian—then quietly answered the call.
She was just about to explain that it wasn’t Song Xian, when a flurry of rapid-fire words from the other end left her momentarily stunned.
“He’s a lawyer, Song Xian. I set up a meeting. Just won a huge case last week—still riding the wave. Not exactly cheap, but definitely marketable. Plus, he’s good-looking, real professional—word is his annual salary’s sky-high. Should make for decent promo material. Though honestly, his name recognition is nowhere near Zhang Susu’s…” He Xiaoying’s tone suddenly turned sharp. “And it’s all Yu Cai’s fault! Absolutely shameless!”
Then she shouted into the phone, “Song Xian? Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Jiang Liuyi snapped out of it. “Song Xian’s not here.”
There was a beat of silence. “Wait—who is this?”
“I’m her wife,” Jiang Liuyi said simply.
He Xiaoying let out a string of startled oh-oh-ohs. “Sorry, sorry! I’ll call back later!”
Just before she could hang up, Jiang Liuyi asked, “You mentioned Yu Cai. What happened?”
He Xiaoying paused. “Yu Cai? Oh, that…”
Jiang Liuyi listened quietly as He Xiaoying recounted everything. Her fingers tightened around the phone, jaw set. The look on her face shifted—calm giving way to something sharper. Her features, always striking, now held a cold edge, and her eyes burned with a low, contained fire.
“It was Yu Cai who said that?” she asked.
He Xiaoying fumed, “Yes! It was her. Thanks to her, we lost Zhang Susu.”
Maybe it was Zhang Susu and Yu Cai working together—but still, who was Song Xian’s wife? Jiang Liuyi. Yu Cai’s sister’s ex. Of course she had to take Song Xian’s side.
Jiang Liuyi swallowed her anger. “I understand.”
He Xiaoying said, “Alright, when Song Xian wakes up, can you have her call me back?”
Jiang Liuyi replied, “Sure.”
After He Xiaoying hung up, Jiang Liuyi set the phone down and strode quickly to the sofa. She opened her contacts, found Yu Cai’s name, and blocked her without hesitation. Then her eyes lingered on another name—Yu Bai.
All this time apart, even after changing her phone, she’d saved Yu Bai’s number the moment she got it.
“What’s wrong?” came a voice from behind—hoarse, still thick with sleep. Jiang Liuyi turned to see Song Xian, barefoot, stepping into the room. Sunlight spilled through the window and landed on her pale face, her skin almost translucent in the light.
Jiang Liuyi lowered her phone and said, “Your colleague called just now. She asked you to call her back.”
Song Xian nodded and walked toward the bathroom to freshen up. The sound of running water echoed from within, and Jiang Liuyi found herself thinking again of what He Xiaoying had said.
“Did Song Xian not tell you any of this?”
“No.”
“She probably didn’t want you to think she was stirring up trouble—that’s why she didn’t say anything.”
It was just like her. Always so careful. Those were her colleagues, after all. Song Xian had always been that way—willing to swallow her pride for the sake of others.
Just like last night. And now, it seemed, the same extended to work.
A swirl of emotion stirred in Jiang Liuyi’s chest, leaving her unsettled. When Song Xian came out of the bathroom, she quietly poured a glass of warm water and handed it to her.
Song Xian took a sip. Then she heard Jiang Liuyi say, “Your colleague called about the interview. I accidentally picked up.”
Song Xian’s gaze remained calm. “It’s fine.”
Jiang Liuyi wetted her lips, tempted to bring up Yu Cai—but figured Song Xian wouldn’t want to hear about it. After a pause, she asked instead, “Your colleague mentioned the interview is with someone well-known?”
Song Xian nodded.
Jiang Liuyi asked, “What about me?”
The way Song Xian held the glass stilled. “You? But… don’t you avoid interviews?”
Jiang Liuyi hadn’t expected her to know that. To even remember such a detail. Just how much must she care, to understand her that well?
Jiang Liuyi said softly, “I used to avoid them. But now—I don’t mind.”
For Song Xian, she could make an exception.
Song Xian looked up, her lashes brushing lightly as her gaze lifted—clear and bright, shimmering with joy. “Really?” she asked.
Was she really this happy? Not even trying to hide it. Jiang Liuyi suddenly felt the urge to tell her why she used to refuse interviews. She nodded. “Really.”
That seemed to satisfy Song Xian. She smiled. “Then I’ll call He Xiaoying back.”
Jiang Liuyi gave a slight nod, her eyes never leaving her. As Song Xian made the call, she felt the heat of Jiang Liuyi’s gaze and asked, “What is it?”
“You…” Jiang Liuyi hesitated, then asked, “Don’t you want to know why I never accepted interviews before?”
Song Xian replied calmly, “Do I have to know?”
Jiang Liuyi had the answer on the tip of her tongue—then swallowed it. “Well… not necessarily.”
Song Xian nodded, holding her phone. “Then I don’t want to.”
The breath caught in Jiang Liuyi’s throat—she choked on it.
