Is this okay? Baby

Silence enveloped the room.

Xu Fengluan, eager to escape, wrapped herself in a towel and was helped out of the bathroom.

Before fully settling, she pushed Liu Tingsong away, adamant she could manage alone, resolute against further assistance.

Liu Tingsong didn’t insist, sensing her unease. She grabbed clothes and returned to the bathroom, her steps inexplicably hurried.

Moments later, water hissed again.

Xu Fengluan sat on the bed’s edge, lost in thought, before rubbing her ears and slowly drying off.

Fresh hospital clothes lay folded at the bed’s foot. Her bony hand reached out, grasping the fabric, dressing piece by piece.

The surroundings grew still. A crescent moon slipped through thin clouds, the city’s distant neon irrelevant, barred by hospital railings. The freshly cleaned corridor, heavy with alcohol’s scent, stood empty.

The hairdryer hummed briefly, then stopped, set aside.

Xu Fengluan half-reclined, pulling the thin blanket over her head, cocooning herself completely.

The burning heat in her body finally faded slightly. She rubbed her face hard, unsure if to cool down or bury lingering sensations.

Her mind remained a fog, chaotic thoughts piling up, impossible to sort, left to stew.

The water paused, and the faint milky scent of the body wash Xu Fengluan used wafted in.

She lowered her head, catching the familiar smell in her palm.

Her thoughts stayed jumbled.

The blanket couldn’t block all light, trapping her in a dim haze. Her bent legs curled tighter, like a fragile child hiding in bedding, balled up, clutching herself.

So irritating.

Familiar feelings surged again.

She scratched her head, mussing her dried hair.

She’d never liked fully drying her hair, especially in summer’s heat, preferring it half-damp for a cool breeze. But post-concussion, she didn’t dare risk it.

So she blamed her frustration on the concussion.

Damn concussion.

She scratched again, suddenly mulling a new hair color.

Neon red?

Ashy blue?

Pink might be nice.

When annoyed, she itched to mess with herself. No moles to pick, so her hair was next. Then the scars caught her eye, tempting her to scratch.

*Thud!*

Thankfully, the bathroom door opened—Liu Tingsong stepped out.

Xu Fengluan retracted her hand, pulling the blanket higher, forming a small mountain.

Liu Tingsong saw but said nothing, moving to the other side.

Xu Fengluan waited, then slowly lowered the blanket, glancing over.

The companion bed sat nearby, separated by a white curtain.

All she could see was a shadow on the curtain, like a childhood shadow play, graceful yet distant.

Liu Tingsong, dried off, bent to pick up clothes, her slim waist accentuated, rustling softly like a willow in the wind.

Xu Fengluan stared without guilt, feeling justified—Liu Tingsong had seen her fully, so this was payback.

Liu Tingsong swept her hair to one shoulder, stray strands catching light, vividly outlined.

Though Xu Fengluan had seen it all, that single strand made her look away.

A towel on the bed’s edge fell. Liu Tingsong ignored it, picking up the hairdryer.

Lingering humidity and milky scent thickened, intensified by the night breeze lifting the curtains, bringing faint coolness.

When Xu Fengluan snapped back, Liu Tingsong emerged, voice normal, no trace of earlier tension. “Tired? Ready to sleep?”

Xu Fengluan tugged the blanket lower, silent, just staring.

Getting no reply, Liu Tingsong stepped closer, touching her head. “Want some hair oil? You’ve dried it a few times—it’s frizzy.”

Normally, oil went on half-dry hair, but the moment had passed; this was a fix.

Xu Fengluan stayed silent, which Liu Tingsong took as consent. She grabbed the oil bottle, squeezed some into her palm, rubbed it, and worked it through Xu Fengluan’s hair.

Xu Fengluan sat stiffly, neither resisting nor helping, like a statue.

Since that night, Liu Tingsong had switched to an apricot blouse and pants, buttoned to the top, hair covering most of the bite mark.

Xu Fengluan tilted her head, dodging stray strands brushing her cheek, irritation flaring again.

Pointless irritation.

It came out of nowhere.

Liu Tingsong applied the oil meticulously, more carefully than for herself.

Cool fingers glided from roots to tips, precise and neat.

“Liu Tingsong,” Xu Fengluan spoke suddenly.

“Hm?” came the gentle reply.

“Orange and the others came today,” she said, despite mentioning it earlier and before.

“I know,” Liu Tingsong answered, as before.

Xu Fengluan repeated it for a reason—something about what Orange and the others said that afternoon.

It couldn’t wait. Since Liu Tingsong returned, she’d been mulling how to bring it up, distracted by the shower, dragging until now. If she didn’t speak, it’d wait till tomorrow. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

“You bought Orange a bike?” she asked bluntly, no sugarcoating.

Liu Tingsong paused, then hummed in confirmation.

“Paid back Xiao Ye too?”

Another hum.

“You had those paparazzi blacklisted?”

Same response.

Xu Fengluan pursed her lips, expecting more but getting simple affirmations. Finally, she snapped, “Pretty powerful, aren’t you?”

Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

Liu Tingsong set down the oil bottle, still beside the bed, voice soft. “Not powerful. Just what I should do.”

Xu Fengluan’s brows furrowed. “I could’ve handled it myself. You didn’t need to interfere.”

Liu Tingsong’s expression softened, tone gentle. “Mad?”

“No,” Xu Fengluan denied, then added, “Not about this.”

She was mad, just not about that.

Liu Tingsong nodded. “Not mad I handled it without telling you, but mad I kissed you?”

Xu Fengluan sensed a trap, steering back. “Got too much money to burn?”

Liu Tingsong’s laugh rose, her tone lilting. “Not much, but if it’s for ba—”

She was cut off by a kick.

Xu Fengluan’s fur bristled again. “Call me that one more time, Liu Tingsong, I dare you!”

The nickname, ignored before, was now off-limits. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

To an outsider, Xu Fengluan might seem erratic, but Liu Tingsong, the only witness, wasn’t fazed, placing Xu Fengluan’s kicked-out leg on her lap.

She adjusted, saying, “Not much money, but it’s all yours to spend. If it’s not enough…”

Her smile deepened, eyes reflecting only Xu Fengluan, voice softer. “I’ll work harder, earn more.”

Sweet words, yet they infuriated Xu Fengluan, who didn’t know how to respond.

She cared about something else, but Liu Tingsong twisted it, giving a different answer.

Wrong answer, no points, no matter how charming.

Xu Fengluan kicked again, shaking Liu Tingsong’s leg, still unsatisfied. “Who wants your money? I can earn my own!”

Her gigs now pulled seven figures!

Laughter spilled from Liu Tingsong’s eyes, shimmering with drowning tenderness. She followed Xu Fengluan’s lead, half-sighing, half-admiring. “Yes, our baby’s so capable now.”

That word again. Her hand tightened, gripping the sheet.

Oddly, the earlier intensity faded, replaced by a new, sour feeling—not painful, just unfamiliar.

Like her heart was a sponge, soaked in lemon water, wrung out, then placed in warm water, sinking with faint joy.

Others might know what this was, why it happened.

But to Xu Fengluan, never affirmed by family, it was alien, almost frightening, leaving her lost.

Liu Tingsong kept gazing, her icy eyes melting into all-encompassing warmth, pulling Xu Fengluan under.

“You’ve always been amazing,” she repeated, certain.

The sheet twisted into intricate patterns, veins bulging on Xu Fengluan’s hand.

Finally, she muttered, “Don’t do it again. Orange doesn’t need a bike…”

“I know,” Liu Tingsong cut in, adding, “Xiao Ye doesn’t need the money either.”

Xu Fengluan’s lips tightened.

“But I wanted to show off a bit,” Liu Tingsong said candidly. “I want your friends to like me.”

Like a new girlfriend treating her partner’s friends to dinner or milk tea, just with a motorcycle instead.

Xu Fengluan’s words were blocked, defeated, armor shed, no chance for a counterattack—just surrender.

She yanked the blanket over herself, the small hill reappearing.

Liu Tingsong blinked, then laughed helplessly.

She’d found a new way to hide.

Tugging the blanket, Xu Fengluan pulled it tighter, disappearing completely.

Liu Tingsong, out of options, tugged lightly, coaxing, “Don’t smother yourself. You’ll feel bad.”

Xu Fengluan stayed silent, her answer clear.

Liu Tingsong tugged again. “Let’s check those scars. Some got wet.”

It wasn’t her fault—the glass cuts were tiny and dense, unavoidable even with care, especially with Xu Fengluan’s blind scrubbing.

“No, leave them,” came a muffled reply.

They’d scabbed; water wouldn’t hurt, and checking wouldn’t heal them faster.

Liu Tingsong thought, tugged twice more, and said, “No more talking. Lights off, sleep?”

A muffled agreement.

Liu Tingsong bit back a laugh, climbing onto the bed.

They’d been sharing it these past nights.

The bed creaked. Xu Fengluan yanked the blanket down, staring darkly.

Liu Tingsong looked puzzled.

Xu Fengluan pressed her leg against hers. “No.”

“Hm?” Liu Tingsong waited patiently.

“Change clothes. I don’t like this set.”

It was more a command than an explanation, her expression unyielding.

There were only two sleepwear sets—besides this, just the dress.

Liu Tingsong glanced at her, emotions unclear, asking, “You like the other one?”

Xu Fengluan went silent, her foot still against Liu Tingsong’s leg, stance clear.

Liu Tingsong rose, walking to the side.

The blouse and pants landed on the bed, the neglected dress retrieved.

Rustling fabric followed.

Moments later, Liu Tingsong returned.

The dark green dress shimmered under the light, its hem swaying, revealing long, fair legs. She looked like a runway model, her destination Xu Fengluan.

Xu Fengluan, clutching the blanket, head pressed into it, stared as she approached.

Before she stopped, Xu Fengluan said, “This doesn’t look good.”

How she managed such a blatant lie was a mystery.

Half her face was buried, white hair sticking up, wobbling like a docile big dog, but her words were wicked. “Change it.”

The earlier issue was brushed off, but the bathroom incident and the teasing lingered. Holding a grudge, she deliberately messed with Liu Tingsong.

Liu Tingsong indulged her, turning to change without hesitation.

Minutes later, she returned.

Xu Fengluan looked up.

Buttons fastened to the top, no sloppiness despite the back-and-forth.

But Xu Fengluan said, “I think I liked the first set better.”

Liu Tingsong gave her a deep look, turning again.

This ancestor’s temper was tough. From day to night, nothing went right, her frustration building. If she didn’t vent, she’d hold it in all night.

The green dress reappeared, footsteps nearing the bed.

Xu Fengluan’s eyes wavered, a hint of guilt surfacing, but she pressed, “Don’t… don’t like it.”

Not fully appeased, she planned to push further.

But Liu Tingsong didn’t turn this time. She smiled.

Xu Fengluan, lacking confidence, met her gaze.

“What do you like, then?” Liu Tingsong asked, grinning.

“The last one,” Xu Fengluan bluffed.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t like it?” Liu Tingsong replied, unfazed.

“Now I do,” Xu Fengluan doubled down, absurdly stubborn.

“Oh…” Liu Tingsong’s drawn-out tone was half-realization, half-teasing.

Xu Fengluan opened her mouth to persist, but Liu Tingsong’s fingers hooked the dress’s strap, sliding it off.

The green silk pooled on the floor.

Xu Fengluan’s eyes widened, her grip on the blanket loosening.

Liu Tingsong, with a half-smile, said, “I think you might like this best, right?” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

The breeze lifted the curtains, their edges swaying.

The tormented one climbed onto the bed, not lying down but straddling Xu Fengluan’s legs, arms looping around her neck.

“Like this, baby?”

Her sultry voice grazed Xu Fengluan’s ear.