Can you bite me again?

When Xu Fengluan woke, the hospital room was still pitch black.

Her head remained heavy, unsure if it was from lack of sleep or the lingering effects of the concussion.

She lay with her eyes closed, hoping for relief, but the dizziness surged again, stirring irritation she couldn’t shake.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, she barely had a moment to settle when a rustling sound came from beside her.

A softened voice asked, “Awake?”

Xu Fengluan stiffened, then recognized the voice and slowly opened her eyes.

The room was unlit, curtains drawn tight, not a sliver of light seeping through. She could only make out a vague silhouette, likely sitting by the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Any better?”

“Want some water?”

A flurry of questions came, the speaker trying to slow down but unable to hide their anxiety, one query tumbling after another.

Xu Fengluan didn’t answer immediately, her reactions sluggish. After a long pause, she rasped, “Why are you here?”

Her voice was hoarse, carrying a dull edge.

Liu Tingsong didn’t respond.

She asked again, “How long have you been here? Why no lights?”

At this, there was finally a reaction. The figure leaned forward, reaching for the wall lamp.

With a *click*, soft yellow light bloomed.

Xu Fengluan instinctively shut her eyes, brows furrowing. A hand gently smoothed them, blocking the light, its cool touch soothing.

One question answered at last.

Liu Tingsong had been there a long time—long enough for her fingertips to grow icy.

After a moment, ensuring Xu Fengluan could adjust, she slowly withdrew her hand, murmuring, “I’ll get water.”

Xu Fengluan didn’t reply, eyes still closed, lips pursed, unsure if from discomfort or displeasure.

Footsteps came and went. Water poured into a paper cup, sounds usually unnoticed now sharp in the quiet. Liu Tingsong’s faint scent mingled with the room’s disinfectant, fading then sharpening as she returned.

Xu Fengluan opened her eyes, gazing at her heavily.

Liu Tingsong hadn’t left since arriving, still in the same outfit, now wrinkled from sitting. Xu Fengluan’s gaze drifted upward, settling on her eyes. Though the mist had been wiped away, a faint redness lingered at the corners, growing clearer as she leaned closer.

A straw, likely brought by someone, tilted in the cup, letting Xu Fengluan drink without sitting up, just tilting her head.

Neither spoke, only the sound of swallowing breaking the silence.

Xu Fengluan was parched. Earlier, too dizzy, and with Chu Cheng and Kuang Ye clueless about caregiving, she’d nearly spilled water on her face when the cup grazed her teeth. She’d shooed them away after a few sips, leaving her throat dry now.

She drank eagerly, her subtle Adam’s apple bobbing. Water dripped from her lips, leaving them glossy.

Liu Tingsong’s gaze dropped, then shifted aside.

When Xu Fengluan released the straw, Liu Tingsong took the cup, grabbing a tissue to wipe her lips.

Her fingertips brushed Xu Fengluan’s lips briefly. Before Xu Fengluan could pull away, she retracted her hand, acting as if nothing happened and standing.

“Feeling bad? Should I call the doctor?” she asked.

Xu Fengluan shook her head, but her frown deepened, sensing something off with Liu Tingsong.

“Sleep more?” Liu Tingsong’s expression seemed normal, but close scrutiny revealed a hint of unease.

Xu Fengluan stayed silent, just watching her.

Silence fell again. Since waking, the atmosphere had turned odd, punctuated by quiet stretches. Questions went unanswered, heavier than their earlier mutual reticence.

Outside, wind howled, rattling windows and slapping leaves against the ground. Rain seemed imminent.

It wasn’t sudden. Before Xu Fengluan and Chu Cheng left, the sky had been overcast. Chu Cheng, stubborn, insisted the forecast showed no rain, refusing an umbrella. Xu Fengluan hadn’t pushed, prepared to get wet. Yet the rain, brewing so long, only now showed signs of falling.

“Did Chu Cheng say something to you?” Xu Fengluan spoke again, voice still hoarse despite the water.

She’d pieced some things together, adding, “She saw those photos of you and Camille, probably misunderstood. I didn’t have time to explain, so she’s upset and talking nonsense.”

No time, or too drained to explain?

Liu Tingsong’s thoughts drifted, then snapped back. “She didn’t say much. The photos—”

She stopped, switching to, “Are you hungry?”

Her evasion was blatant. If Chu Cheng had said nothing, Liu Tingsong wouldn’t act this way.

“I’m not hungry. If there’s nothing else, go rest,” Xu Fengluan said, her pale face and low mood evident.

“I’m staying tonight,” Liu Tingsong replied quickly.

Xu Fengluan pursed her lips, struggling for words. After a moment, she sighed, “It was a minor crash, no big deal.”

Liu Tingsong stayed silent, standing firm.

“I’m just dizzy, and my right leg’s in a splint, but I can move. I don’t need anyone here. I can call a nurse if needed.”

She nodded toward the call button, emphasizing she didn’t need company.

Liu Tingsong didn’t speak, her behavior odd tonight, like a robot following set commands, mute otherwise.

Xu Fengluan wasn’t patient, especially with Liu Tingsong. Her emotions always swung wildly—angry when Liu complied, frustrated when she didn’t, like a capricious tyrant.

Now, her temper flared, impossible to suppress.

“Then sleep on the cot. I’ll call if I need you,” she snapped.

Liu Tingsong didn’t budge.

“I’m going to sleep,” Xu Fengluan stressed, trying to nudge her.

Liu Tingsong turned off the light and sat back down.

The move made Xu Fengluan laugh in exasperation, grinding her teeth. Perhaps from biting Liu Tingsong so often lately, she now wanted to bite something when angry.

“Go sleep,” she growled.

No movement.

Her teeth itched more, but unable to bite, she kicked Liu Tingsong’s knee from under the blanket with her left leg.

Unpracticed, the kick was light, barely nudging Liu Tingsong’s leg.

Finally, the “statue” reacted, coaxing, “Don’t move, you’ll hurt your leg.”

*Oh, now you remember I’m injured?*

If the light weren’t off, Xu Fengluan would’ve glared.

“Sleep,” she kicked again, slightly harder, making Liu Tingsong’s knee wobble.

In the dark, Liu Tingsong’s expression was invisible, her posture rigid, like a model student or a masochist.

Xu Fengluan stared at the shadowy figure.

Liu Tingsong seemed to stare back.

With no outlet for her frustration, Xu Fengluan deflated, muttering, “Liu Tingsong, talking makes my head hurt.”

Liu Tingsong flinched, panicking to turn on the light. “Why does it hurt? I’ll get the doctor.”

Xu Fengluan stopped her, draping her left leg over Liu Tingsong’s.

Liu Tingsong tried to lift it; Xu Fengluan put it back.

She tried again; Xu Fengluan persisted, clearly keeping her in place.

Afraid to use force and risk the injured leg, Liu Tingsong softened, pleading, “A-Feng…”

Xu Fengluan’s anger faded, her voice weak, “Liu Tingsong, I’m dizzy.”

Her leg stayed, feeling Liu Tingsong stiffen.

“A-Feng…” Liu Tingsong’s voice was pitiful, its lilt like a silver hook.

Xu Fengluan couldn’t resist, kicking her inner knee, saying, “Go wash up.”

She added, “Got clothes to change into?”

“I had Pear fetch some,” Liu Tingsong answered, then hesitated, “I can’t sleep. I want to stay with you.”

She finally voiced it.

Xu Fengluan glanced up, saying, “Headache.”

Those two words tamed the older woman, who turned to leave.

Xu Fengluan snorted, flicking on the wall lamp to light the way for the fumbling figure.

Soon, water ran in the bathroom.

Xu Fengluan looked away, her expression unreadable. She covered her face, rubbing hard.

Amused yet exasperated—years later, Liu Tingsong still fell for this.

Her slight smile faded. When Liu Tingsong returned, Xu Fengluan resumed her sickly demeanor.
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Already slender, her unhealthy pallor and loose hospital gown made her look frail. Her messy white hair veiled her eyes, softening her sharp edge into something pitiable.

Not enough, she tugged the blanket, exposing her splinted leg, bandaged tightly, looking alarmingly serious.

It froze Liu Tingsong in place.

“Sleep,” Xu Fengluan kicked again, oddly addicted to it. She aimed higher, grazing the hem of Liu Tingsong’s nightdress.

In her earlier panic, Liu Tingsong had focused on Xu Fengluan, forgetting herself. Thankfully, Pear, thoughtful, had packed toiletries and pajamas, assuming she’d stay.

But in her haste, Pear overlooked details.

The emerald satin nightdress, with thin straps and a low neckline, revealed Liu Tingsong’s collarbone and a hint of pale skin. A side slit and open back made it cool for summer but revealing.

Xu Fengluan lowered her leg, avoiding further contact, her gaze dropping.

They’d seen and done everything when together, but this sudden sight felt awkward.

“Sleep,” she said stiffly.

“I’ll go when you’re asleep,” Liu Tingsong conceded, seeing her resolve.

Xu Fengluan wanted to argue, but Liu Tingsong sighed, “I’m uneasy. I won’t rest lying elsewhere.”

Her glistening eyes held a tender plea, hard to refuse.

But how could she sit there dressed like that?

Forget catching a cold—if someone walked in, would they think Xu Fengluan had some fetish?

Wind howled outside, thunder rumbling.

Xu Fengluan paused, then shifted over, turning slightly away, saying, “Get in.”

The woman who’d once schemed to cling to her now hesitated, frozen.

“I’m tired,” Xu Fengluan muttered, irritation rising.

Liu Tingsong stayed silent, a statue again.
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Xu Fengluan repeated her trick, “Headache.”

Like clockwork, Liu Tingsong turned off the light, lifted the blanket carefully, and the bed dipped.

The private ward’s perks shone—cot, bathroom, and a wide bed for two. But Liu Tingsong’s position…

Xu Fengluan shifted, feeling vast empty space. Was she a paper cutout, clinging to the edge?

“Liu Tingsong.”

“Hm?”

“Move closer.”

“I…”

Before she could refuse, Xu Fengluan cut in, “Headache.”

Those words were her trump card, bending Liu Tingsong completely.

She inched closer.

Still not enough, Xu Fengluan lay flat, demanding, “Closer.”

Another inch.

“Come,” Xu Fengluan said tersely.

Liu Tingsong complied.

Only when their arms touched did Xu Fengluan stop.

How could she sleep so precariously, risking a fall? She’d end up a patient herself.

Silence fell. Xu Fengluan stared at the ceiling, the light’s flicker softening the darkness. Nothing worth seeing, though.

Her claim of tiredness was a lie to prod Liu Tingsong. Freshly awake, water wouldn’t make her sleepy. Liu Tingsong’s timid demeanor hardly suggested she’d slip her a sedative.

Wide awake, Xu Fengluan counted sheep from one to a hundred, then back, only worsening her dizziness.

Restless, she shifted. Liu Tingsong tensed, her breathing quickening.

Clearly not asleep.

Likely unable to sleep.

Xu Fengluan closed her eyes, but chaotic thoughts swirled, tormenting her alongside earlier emotions.

*Annoying.*

Truly annoying now.
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She opened her eyes, blurting, “What did Orange say to you?”

She couldn’t let it go.

Liu Tingsong flinched but didn’t speak. Xu Fengluan added, “If you say nothing or stay quiet, I’ll have you thrown out.”

Her tone was firm, leaving no room for evasion—a real threat.

Liu Tingsong, scared, hesitated, choosing her words carefully before saying, “Orange cares about you a lot.”

That clarified most of it.

Honestly, waking to see Liu Tingsong wasn’t surprising. The parking lot chase had spectators; news would spread. Liu Tingsong knowing wasn’t odd, and Xu Fengluan instantly guessed Chu Cheng gave her the address, unsurprised.

What she hadn’t expected was Chu Cheng saying so much.

She hadn’t worried or warned them against speaking because she knew Burning Meteor’s trio’s stance on Liu Tingsong. They felt anger and unfairness for Xu Fengluan but were grateful too.

They all knew without Liu Tingsong, Xu Fengluan alone couldn’t have formed the band. Out of that debt, they’d never badmouth or blame her.

When Xu Fengluan was sick, Chu Cheng had delivered medicine and porridge for Liu Tingsong.

Their stance was ambiguous, neither too close nor hostile, helping when Liu Tingsong asked.

That’s why, after learning of her return and contact with Xu Fengluan, only Chu Cheng inquired. With such close bonds, how could they not pry into a friend’s love life otherwise?

Knowing Chu Cheng spoke up for her, Xu Fengluan rubbed her nose, a lump in her throat.

Most preached reason and gratitude, but someone standing by you unconditionally was touching.

“Kuang Ye’s quiet, but she chimed in too,” Liu Tingsong added.

Oddly, she defended those who’d criticized her.

Xu Fengluan pursed her lips, unsure what to say, lying quietly. After a while, she managed, “Liu Tingsong, let’s talk.”

That phrase again.

Their last talk had no resolution. What was there to discuss now?

Rain pattered outside, rustling leaves, the long-brewing storm finally falling, muting the world and adding a cool, earthy scent.

Xu Fengluan waited, but with no response, she nudged Liu Tingsong’s elbow, calling, “Liu Tingsong.”

After a pause, she softly asked, “Can you bite me again?”