A Lingering Fragrance and Lingering Shadows

A wave of shyness washed over Xia Chu as she found herself openly discussing her “tuantuan” (TL Note: A playful term referring to breasts), prompting her to attempt to guide the conversation back to its original course.

“Had it been anything else, I might not have been so angry,” she explained, “but to force me into an arranged marriage? I told her directly: I don’t like men.”

Upon hearing this, Bai Jingjing’s curiosity was piqued, and she promptly asked, “So, Sister Xia Chu, you’ve liked girls for several years now?”

Xia Chu stammered, “W-well, I suppose so.”

This only intensified Bai Jingjing’s curiosity. “Why is that?” she pressed. “Did Sister Xia Chu perhaps have someone she liked before, and that person happened to be a girl?”

She didn’t understand how girls came to like other girls; she had only ever heard of such a concept.

Xia Chu suddenly grew agitated. “No, I never liked anyone before,” she asserted earnestly. “Truly, I didn’t!”

Although she couldn’t fathom the reason for Xia Chu’s sudden intensity, Bai Jingjing quickly moved to soothe her. “Understood, understood,” she reassured. “No, no, Sister Xia Chu never had anyone she liked before.”

Only then did Xia Chu visibly relax, subtly puffing out her cheeks. “The reason I came to like girls,” she confessed, “is because when I was in school, I heard my classmates say that some girls were fragrant and soft, with very gentle personalities and ample chests, just like a mother… that feeling of a ‘true’ mother, which I had never experienced. That’s why a longing blossomed within me.”

Bai Jingjing summarized her understanding. “So, you like girls who are fragrant and soft, with gentle personalities, and large chests… is that right?”

“Yes,” Xia Chu confirmed.

Xia Chu instinctively replied in agreement, but then, a sudden realization struck her.

‘Wait a minute, wasn’t this implying… implying that she liked… *mhm*.’

An odd silence descended upon the bed.

Bai Jingjing, oblivious to Xia Chu’s reaction, was gazing at the figurines on the cabinet: Kagura Nana, Pecorine, and Saren.

‘Presumably, these were the three characters Xia Chu’s classmates liked… ah, no, except for the one in the middle.’

‘Too small.’

It was then that Xia Chu finally realized the soft sensation pressing against her head was Bai Jingjing’s “tuantuan” (TL Note: A playful term referring to breasts).

‘No wonder,’ she thought, ‘her memories always carried a wisp of coconut milk fragrance.’

Grrr, grrr.

Having exerted herself earlier in a playful tussle, and then engaged in a heartfelt conversation, her stomach finally began to rumble with hunger.

Bai Jingjing smiled gently. “What would you like to eat? I’ll get up and make it for you.”

Xia Chu’s pretty face flushed faintly as she puffed out her cheeks. “Rice cakes! Steamed buns!”

Bai Jingjing seemed a little troubled. “Ah, those might take some time. They’re not sold outside right now. If I were to knead the dough and make them myself, you probably wouldn’t eat until dinner.”

Xia Chu pulled her head back, moving away from the comfortable “tuantuan” (TL Note: A playful term referring to breasts). “I-I was just saying,” she mumbled. “Whatever’s quick to make will be fine.”

‘She was so hungry; of course, anything quick would do. *Anyway, I’ll like whatever you make…* She hadn’t dared to voice that last part.’

‘Don’t ask why; if you ask, it’s because her communication issues haven’t fully resolved.’

Bai Jingjing thought the same: the quicker, the better. She prepared a bowl of crucian carp and tofu soup.

Sitting in her chair, Xia Chu gazed at the tender white ingredients in the soup, and an odd sensation crept over her, as if they had just been… *ground out* by them.

‘No, what was she thinking? It was just a metaphor, a metaphor!’

Shaking her head to banish the strange thoughts, she picked up her chopsticks.

After confiding her troubles, it felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her heart. Xia Chu completely relaxed in Bai Jingjing’s presence, even finding that her past sorrows could now be discussed with a touch more ease.

Xia Chu spoke between bites. “She hasn’t come looking for me in years. She only made a few calls at the very beginning, also to persuade me to go back for the arranged marriage. Seeing my resolute stance, and with Luo Xuan’s help, she just gave up on me, pretending I didn’t exist. So, for her to suddenly show up today, and with such politeness at first, it really startled me.”

Bai Jingjing hummed in acknowledgment, her eyes on Xia Chu’s chopsticks. “Slow down, slow down,” she cautioned. “Watch out for fish bones.”

It’s dangerous to eat fish while talking.

Xia Chu hummed. “It’s fine, I’m just eating tofu and drinking soup. She was so polite at first, but then her expression suddenly changed midway through. It was truly frightening.”

Bai Jingjing served her another bowl of soup, remarking casually, “Respect without fear—that’s how it is.”

“Hm?” Xia Chu blinked, puzzled.

Bai Jingjing offered a simple explanation. “It’s because you might be able to help her, so she shows you respect, but she isn’t afraid of you, so there’s no apprehension. It’s like some patients I’ve seen before: they’re usually quite respectful to nurses, but they’ll lose their temper at them the moment something goes wrong. However, when it comes to doctors, they wouldn’t dare.”

Xia Chu, only half-understanding, took a sip of hot soup before bringing up another matter. “I never expected Grandpa to ask me to join the foundation. It was something I’d never even considered before.”

Bai Jingjing recalled their earlier conversation. “What are your thoughts on it now?” she asked. “You mentioned your grandpa is someone who only values ability; he probably wouldn’t care about those past issues, right?”

Xia Chu whispered, “Well, I don’t want to go back. I… I don’t really want to interact with my family.”

Throughout her childhood, every attempt to speak with them had been met with scornful laughter, leaving her so intimidated that she eventually feared speaking to anyone. They were, in essence, one of the primary sources of her childhood trauma.

Besides, the Xia family relatives still harbored those same prejudices against her. If she were to return to work there, she would undoubtedly face their disdainful glares every single day.

Xia Chu carefully sipped her fish soup. “And the pressure there is immense,” she added. “Grandpa is incredibly strict.”

Regardless of how much their abilities were valued, anyone from the Xia family, including herself, would start as a manager at the foundation, only gaining an opportunity to rise once they had genuinely proven themselves.

But should one make a grave mistake, disaster would surely follow.

Bai Jingjing said softly, “Then don’t go. Just live your own quiet life.”

“Mhm…”

Only after her mood had completely relaxed, once the incident had passed, did Xia Chu let out a silent sigh.

What was supposed to be a joyful, rare Saturday with her girlfriend had been utterly ruined by He Manyu’s arrival, leaving them no time to do anything.

Though Xia Chu herself wasn’t entirely sure what they would have done anyway…

Bai Jingjing suddenly smiled mysteriously. “Sister Xia Chu,” she said, “I’ll spend tomorrow with you. I have a surprise for you.”

She had just checked JD Logistics; her laptop would be delivered tomorrow morning. Then, she could finally have a “date” with Xia Chu.

“What surprise?” Xia Chu blinked, a look of innocent confusion on her face.

“You’ll find out tomorrow.”

What should have been a beautiful Saturday, though marred by the morning’s tumultuous events, gradually returned to its rightful course as the languid afternoon hours drifted by.

For dinner, Xia Chu finally got to eat the steamed buns she had been craving—Bai Jingjing’s… buns made by Bai Jingjing herself.

“And they’re milk-flavored!” Xia Chu exclaimed in surprise. “How did you know…?”

‘Of course I knew,’ Bai Jingjing thought to herself, ‘because Sister Luo Xuan also loves this flavor.’

‘Perhaps this is just a common preference among best friends.’

After dinner, following a brief rest, the two young women climbed back into bed.

This time, it was for sleep. The little tiger (TL Note: A playful term for Xia Chu, referring to her emotional state or inner turmoil) was tired from battling, tired from crying, and needed rest.