My legs are a little weak, baby.

Waking up, it was already noon.

Xu Fengluan sank into the soft bed, her face half-hidden by messy white hair. Her eyelids trembled, still closed, as she slowly rolled over from a curled-up position to lie on her back.

The thin blanket, tossed in her restless turn, barely clung to her, a corner just covering her. Her exposed slender waist and long legs were striking, faint red marks around her knees hinting at last night’s events.

“Mmm…” she let out a muffled groan, raising her hand to shield her eyes with the back of it, as the haze of a hangover began to surface.

Last night… she seemed to have done something…

Something extraordinary.

Her legs curled slightly, almost transparent in the dim room.

“Sister, I don’t know how…”

“Teach me.”

The tearful voice echoed in her mind, her bent legs wrinkling the sheets beneath.

“Bad dog,” came the half-annoyed, half-indulgent tone.

She saw Liu Tingsong, her impossibly slender waist twisting, sweat accentuating sharp lines, her restrained gasps slipping through lips marked by Xu Fengluan’s bites, vivid and alluring.
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This method was clearly more challenging, grinding against her rounded kneecap, up and down, offering no quick relief.
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Worse, Xu Fengluan played dirty, refusing to help, even raising her leg as Liu Tingsong moved, disrupting her rhythm with each shudder.

Liu Tingsong’s soft pleas went ignored as Xu Fengluan deliberately shifted her leg, forcing her to chase.

Repeating this several times, she dragged out what should’ve ended quickly.

Heat crept up her cheeks. What felt fine in her drunken haze now seemed mortifying.

Flat on the bed, Xu Fengluan curled back into a ball, trying to escape, but the memories wouldn’t fade.

She even pursed her lips, hoping to suppress the lingering sensations, only to recall more—and a flicker of worry.

During it all, she’d insisted Liu Tingsong hold and guide her. Though her bites were light, the constant movement and tugging, her teeth grazing, were inevitable.

She remembered Liu Tingsong wincing, a soft hiss escaping.

Yet Xu Fengluan didn’t stop, even when Liu Tingsong was exhausted, holding her tearful form, coaxing her endlessly.

Her hungover head throbbed harder.

Sure, she had some justification.

Liu Tingsong had fed her wine, breaking their agreement, when she hadn’t even consented to her closeness.

Still…

Xu Fengluan gave up finding excuses, shoving it all down, choosing temporary escape.

Taking a deep breath, she reached out, searching for the person she’d tormented last night.

But her fingers brushed only cold, empty sheets.

A sudden pang gripped her heart.

Xu Fengluan’s eyes snapped open, staring at the empty side of the bed, her heart twisting painfully, panic spreading, fingertips icing over.

Uncontrolled memories surged.

The night before Liu Tingsong left without a word, they’d spent it entwined in bed. But the next day, Xu Fengluan woke to an empty room.

At first, she stayed calm, assuming Liu Tingsong had an emergency. But opening the door revealed a pristine guest room, and countless calls went unanswered.

She searched frantically, finding no trace of Liu Tingsong.

If not for Burning Meteor’s trio as witnesses, she’d have thought those years were a desperate delusion. Yet this certainty brought no comfort, only deeper pain.

Until she saw online that Liu Tingsong had left the country, she had to accept that Liu Tingsong had chosen a decisive way to leave her.

Xu Fengluan sat up, breathing deeply, forcing her emotions down, telling herself not to overthink.

Last night, Liu Tingsong had promised repeatedly she’d never leave again.

So, it’d be fine.

Xu Fengluan closed her eyes, then opened them, trying to bury her feelings, but her trembling arms betrayed her.

She was like a dog abandoned too many times, any rustle sparking fear and insecurity.

Her eyes reflected the scene—unfamiliar yet faintly known.

Memories surfaced, explaining it.

Her room’s sheets were soaked and crumpled, unfit for sleep, so after Liu Tingsong rested on her briefly, they’d showered and moved to Liu Tingsong’s room.

This calmed Xu Fengluan slightly.

She felt last night’s shower wasn’t enough, wanting to scrub herself raw with a rough towel until her skin was red and scraped, only then clean enough.

Reaching for her phone, notifications flooded—app alerts, messages, especially from Burning Meteor’s group chat, hitting 99+. Chu Cheng had even called.

But Xu Fengluan ignored them, clearing all notifications, and dialed Liu Tingsong.

The ringing started.

Her lips tightened, jaw sharp, eyes reflecting panic and hope.

One for certainty, one for comfort.

She couldn’t be blamed.

She’d been abandoned too often.

As a child, deemed a burden, left with her grandparents by her mother.

Her busy grandparents left her alone night after night.

Later, for choosing differently, they kicked her out.

Then Liu Tingsong left without a word.

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She was terrified of being left.

With a clear mind, she could’ve found countless reasons to dismiss her fears.

She was in Liu Tingsong’s house—if she stayed, Liu Tingsong would return, not abandoning a carefully designed home.

If she listened, she’d hear the Maine Coon playing on its cat tree.

Liu Tingsong had gone to great lengths for that cat, bringing it back from abroad, where it gained weight, needing a diet.

How could she abandon it?

And the simplest proof—if Xu Fengluan looked down, she’d see the note she’d knocked off, clearly stating why Liu Tingsong left.

But Xu Fengluan couldn’t act. As the call went unanswered, she collapsed, limbs weak.

She was terrified of being left.

The heavy curtains swayed, letting in a sliver of light across her face—half gloomy, half sharp, like a broken blade, its jagged edge ready to wound from overdefense.

Chu Cheng called again.

Xu Fengluan rejected it, redialing Liu Tingsong.

One call after another, relentless, her fingers cold, blood seeming to freeze, ankle bones stark, veins visible under thin skin.

The cat meowed outside, but she was deaf to it, obsessively dialing.

She needed an explanation.

Anything.

She needed Liu Tingsong to answer herself.

She didn’t dare verify like before, fearing a repeat—opening closets or doors to find everything gone.

Dozens of calls, none answered.

Her emotions sank—anger, panic, despair, anxiety, insecurity—coalescing into a massive, filthy mud ball, sinking into a void of nothingness.

Through the curtain’s gap, the bustling world outside was visible—ships on the river, towering buildings, shop windows reflecting passersby, some casting envious glances.

None of it mattered to Xu Fengluan.

The call count climbed, like a rigid marionette repeating the motion.

Her cracked lips pursed and parted, tearing skin, pain spreading, her tense back unyielding.

The red call count passed three digits.

Xu Fengluan sat dazed, soulless.

She was being abandoned again.

Though she’d been through it many times, it still hurt.

Tears gathered at her eyes, falling with a sting, splashing the still-dialing screen, blooming like shattered flowers.

131.

142.

160. Just before the call limit, the hopeless ringing paused. Xu Fengluan instinctively moved to redial, but a gentle voice came through.

“Baby, you’re awake?”

Her lashes trembled, voice hoarse with tears, demanding, “Liu Tingsong, where are you?”

“Are you abandoning me again?”

“How long this time? Five years, ten, or longer?”

In the crowded airport, luggage wheels rolled, heels and sneakers tread, a formal female voice droned over the speakers.

Liu Tingsong stood by a window, her face hidden by a mask and sunglasses, though curious glances still came her way, drawn to the red marks on her neck, trembling with her speech.

Her voice softened, soothing, calling, “Baby, baby.”

The other side was on the verge of collapse, ignoring her, hurling accusations like a bristling hedgehog.

“Liu Tingsong, where are you hiding this time?!”

“How many times will you play this game?”

“You think I’ll keep waiting? Dream on!”

“Baby,” Liu Tingsong repeated patiently, voice softer, careful not to startle, fearing she’d shatter the already fragile glass.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry, okay?” she pleaded, knuckles white around the phone.

Behind her, Li Zi, with retrieved luggage, waited anxiously, not daring to interrupt, only glancing around, occasionally stomping.

When the other side’s voice softened, calming slightly, Liu Tingsong spoke gently, “I’m sorry, baby. I had urgent business today, so I couldn’t stay until you woke.”

Silence fell, sudden and heavy.

Liu Tingsong’s tone remained tender, like last night’s embrace, warm as spring water, thawing rigid bones.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she repeated, guilt and sincerity in her eyes, regret flickering.

“Don’t be scared, okay?”

“I won’t leave you.”

Rustling fabric came from the other side, but no reply. Liu Tingsong, knowing Xu Fengluan well, sensed her lingering doubt, like a wary beast awaiting a perfect answer.

The best way would’ve been like before, in the theater, holding Xu Fengluan close, letting her hide in her shoulder, stroking her hair.

But now, miles apart, Liu Tingsong could only comfort feebly.

A muffled sound came, indistinct.

Liu Tingsong continued gently, “I just had work to handle. Forgot? I told you I’d be in Haicheng today for a shoot.”

Silence again, as if Xu Fengluan was thinking.

“I didn’t want to wake you, so I left a note on the nightstand. Did you see it?”

Xu Fengluan stirred, searching for the flung note.

A passerby overheard snippets, assuming Liu Tingsong was soothing a clingy child, marveling at her patience, her expression full of care, no trace of annoyance.

“I found it,” Xu Fengluan said, crumpling the note after a glance.

She seemed to want to speak, muttering after a pause, “Liu Tingsong, I’m sorry…”

But Liu Tingsong cut in, “Baby, still crying?”

“No… not anymore,” Xu Fengluan said, embarrassed. A grown woman crying over this.

“Tissues are nearby. Wipe your face, okay?”

Xu Fengluan nodded obediently, grabbing one to swipe her face.

“Good baby,” Liu Tingsong praised, cementing the “good mom” image in passersby’s eyes.

Xu Fengluan sensed something off, protesting, “Liu Tingsong, don’t… it’s weird.”

She shifted, asking, “Where are you now?”

“Just got off the plane,” Liu Tingsong replied. “Sorry, I couldn’t answer earlier.”

“It’s not your fault. I was too anxious, overthinking,” Xu Fengluan said, reason returning, realizing her mistake as she stepped out of her mental spiral.

Muttering, “I caused you trouble.”

“No trouble,” Liu Tingsong chuckled, her gaze tender. “I wanted to call you right after landing.”

“I should’ve canceled the schedule,” she sighed regretfully. “I wanted to be the first thing you saw, to say good morning, or just hold you silently, or maybe… be a bit naughtier…”

“Hoping San Jin wouldn’t scratch the door, interrupting what comes next.”

The sudden shift left Xu Fengluan stunned, her ears reddening as she caught on.

“But I messed it up,” Liu Tingsong’s tone sank. “I regret it. We could’ve had a beautiful morning.”

“I… Liu Tingsong,” Xu Fengluan stammered, managing, “You’re at the airport.”

Trying to remind her they were in public, to rein it in.

But Liu Tingsong didn’t stop. “Baby, my legs are weak.”

“You were amazing last night.”

Xu Fengluan’s face flushed crimson.