I am very clear about my sexual orientation

The inspection work was done, and the group prepared to leave.

Ming Shuzhen gazed at the tulip bulbs planted in the courtyard, colorful rain boots lined up like vibrant mushrooms under a tree, their edges glowing amber in the backlight.

She shared her metaphor with Qian Duoduo, who laughed, “Poisonous mushrooms.”

Ming Shuzhen chuckled too, then caught Ming Shuyan glancing her way.

Their eyes didn’t quite meet—she wasn’t sure if Ming Shuyan was looking at her. Pausing, she turned.

“Duoduo, I’m done here. I’ll wait in the car.”

“Huh? Oh, okay.” Qian Duoduo frowned at Ming Shuzhen’s evasive demeanor.

Before she could ask, Ming Shuzhen grabbed her bag and bolted from the Book House.

“Tch, like a rabbit. Is there a big bad wolf around?” Qian Duoduo muttered.

The distant “wolf” lowered her head, looking contrite as Ming Shuzhen fled.

As the group left, Bazicun’s long-gloomy sky finally cleared.

The sky was a vivid blue, and with the village’s low building density, breathing felt refreshing.

In the car, window down, Ming Shuzhen stared at the sky, lost in thought.

Just then, Xinjiang and Baota emerged from the Book House. Her eyes lit up, and she waved.

“Sisters!” Xinjiang ran over, Baota trailing.

“We’re done and heading back,” Ming Shuzhen said, leaning on the window, looking at the two kids.

“Mm, Village Chief Liu told us,” Xinjiang said, mature for her age.

Ming Shuzhen rummaged through her bag, pulling out her last candies and a pack of Lay’s chips from her coat.

Xinjiang and Baota’s eyes followed her hands as she dug out treats.

“Thanks, Sister!” Xinjiang took them without hesitation.

“Do you know about public accounts?” Ming Shuzhen asked, inspired.

They shook their heads.

She clicked her tongue. “It’s a platform for posting stuff. Our PR team wrote articles with your photos, Xinjiang’s poems, and Baota’s drawings.”

“Can we see?” Xinjiang blinked.

“Yep!” Ming Shuzhen nodded. “Know WeChat?”

They did—used it for video calls with their parents.

“Search ‘Red Brick Public Account’ on WeChat. You’ll find it,” she explained. “The posts aren’t up yet, but since inspections are done, they’ll be out soon.”

She smiled. “Tell your parents to check it. They’ll see you there.”

Recalling the poems Xinjiang sold her, she added, “There’ll likely be a post just for Xinjiang, with excerpts from your poems.”

“Hm?” Xinjiang looked up, processing. “My poems will be online for everyone?”

“Yep,” Ming Shuzhen nodded. “They’re great. People will love them, think you’re so talented.”

Xinjiang, unsure if she understood, glanced at Baota.

Seeing her reaction, Ming Shuzhen worried. “Sorry, Xinjiang, I should’ve asked if you’re okay with sharing your poems. If not, I’ll tell my colleague to pull them.”

Xinjiang shook her head, calm beyond her years. “I’m fine with it.”

“They’re yours now—you decide,” she said crisply. Ming Shuzhen marveled at her grasp of “rights.”

“It just feels unreal, everyone seeing my poems. Like I’m a poet,” Xinjiang said, stunning Ming Shuzhen again with her eloquence.

“You *are* a poet,” she said sincerely. “So talented, so wise—you’ll be noticed.”

Unsure how much Xinjiang absorbed, she clutched Baota’s hand, holding the chips. “Don’t need many to see. Just my mom.”

“Haha.” Ming Shuzhen laughed, ruffling their heads.

“I’m leaving. Put up more sticky notes for me, okay? And check on the tulips when they bloom.”

Xinjiang, usually quiet, said, “Okay.”

Ming Shuzhen felt a pang of reluctance, her thoughts tangled. This trip had stirred so much.

She opened her arms, hugging them both.

“Say hi to Grandma Chunhua for me.”

—

Luggage packed, they grabbed their things from the hotel and headed to the airport.

During check-in, Ming Shuzhen dawdled behind Qian Duoduo, avoiding Ming Shuyan.

On the plane, she checked her ticket, found her seat, and froze—Ming Shuyan was beside her, by the window.

Ming Shuyan glanced over, seeing Ming Shuzhen clutch her ticket, glaring.

“Uh.” Ming Shuyan looked at her iPad, thoughts flickering.

Ming Shuzhen sat, slamming the tray table down.

Ming Shuyan glanced, then called the flight attendant. “Half-sugar iced coffee, please.”

The attendant set a white cup on her tray.

Ming Shuyan slid it to Ming Shuzhen. “For you.”

Ming Shuzhen glared. “What for?”

*Suspicious kindness.*

“Chill out,” Ming Shuyan said, holding the cup, eyes shimmering.

Ming Shuzhen eyed the coffee, turning to face her. “Chill what?”

Ming Shuyan hesitated, unsure whether to address it directly, embarrassment in her eyes.

“I was drunk that night,” she said softly.

Ming Shuzhen watched her red-lipsticked mouth move. Ming Shuyan rarely wore bold red, but her aura made any color striking.

Was it Ming Shuzhen’s imagination, or did the usually commanding Ming Shuyan soften around her, like a leopard bowing for a pat?

Saying she was drunk—did she mean it wasn’t a kiss, just a bite? Or was she playing the gentleman, apologizing lightly? Then why was *Ming Shuzhen* overthinking?

Seeing her silent stare, Ming Shuyan’s shoulders sank. “Sorry, I disrespected you.”

That fueled Ming Shuzhen’s frustration. She wanted to grab her collar and demand, *What do you mean? Toying with me? You kissed me—why am I the one freaking out, while you just say sorry and move on?*

Boarding done, the cabin quiet, with Qian Duoduo and Chen Hao aboard, she couldn’t make a scene.

She grabbed her phone, typing furiously: “Sorry for what? You think you were drunk and…”

Typing gave her pause. She deleted it, starting over.

Ming Shuyan watched her slender fingers tap hard, sensing her anger, growing uneasy.

“Boss, I said the lipstick was edible. Did you just want to taste it? If so, no need to apologize—it’s no big deal. You didn’t hurt me. Girls get close like that.” Typing this, she fumed—why was she so kind, giving her an out?

She continued, “If you meant something else…”

Like, *you wanted to kiss me*…

Her chest heaved, emotions surging.

Biting her lip, she thought, *If you meant to kiss me… it’s not… impossible…* Ugh, why so awkward?

She deleted, “If you meant something else.”

“I’m not mad, just feel it’s unfair. You act like nothing happened, while I’m worked up, frustrated, guessing your intentions. What! Do! You! Mean!” She punctuated heavily.

She showed Ming Shuyan the phone.

Ming Shuyan took it, glancing at her, thinking she offered a calming look, but to Ming Shuzhen, it was dismissive, irresponsible.

“Sorry for troubling you,” Ming Shuyan typed politely.

“Not just for biting you—my behavior wasn’t great. I shouldn’t play dumb, taking advantage of your innocence.” Her head bowed, fingers light on the screen.

Her calm infuriated Ming Shuzhen.

“I was anxious too, overthinking. I didn’t sleep that night, scared you’d misunderstand, avoid me. Sorry.” She typed, deleted, then retyped, admitting her feelings, seeing Ming Shuzhen’s complaint about unfairness.

She handed back the phone, eyes down.

Ming Shuzhen read it, heart sinking.

Shocked by Ming Shuyan’s admission of liking girls, she bristled at “normal orientation.”

What’s normal? Liking who you like, however you like—isn’t that personal freedom?

Then it hit her: Ming Shuyan was serious, baring herself, flaws and all, just to ease her anger.

Her frustration softened.

“Boss, don’t talk yourself down. Let’s drop it, okay?” she typed.

“Sorry,” Ming Shuyan said aloud.

Ming Shuzhen shook her head, gripping the phone tightly.