The secret is her
In the villa's entrance, the light from the crystal chandelier was cold and hard. Zhou Jianxing changed her shoes very gently, the sound of rubber scraping against the floorboards being abrupt in the empty space. Wen Lingyi walked right past her, leaving a cool lingering fragrance and an invisible wall in the air.
"Go take a shower." Wen Lingyi's voice was not loud, and it froze into ice in the air, without any temperature or room for maneuver.
She didn't even look back as she disappeared into the shadows leading to the living room.
Zhou Jianxing stood there, his slippers stepping on the cold marble.
The emotionless tone made her feel suffocated.
The bathroom door closed behind her, isolating the space and amplifying the chaotic echoes in her mind. Every detail of the coffee shop was repeatedly reviewed - what stupid words did she say? What unnecessary movements did she make? When did Wen Lingyi start to get angry with her?
The low pressure, like a solid lead cloud, pressed down heavily on her.
The hot water washed over the skin, washing away the dust and sweat, but it couldn't dispel the sticky confusion in my heart.
·
The scene of the two of them shopping in the supermarket together appeared in my mind again.
The supermarket was brightly lit. Zhou Jianxing had imagined this scene countless times: pushing a shopping cart side by side, walking through the dazzling shelves, and discussing tonight's dishes.
Wen Lingyi might pick up a tomato and ask her "How is this?" or critically comment on the freshness of a certain vegetable.
The air should have been filled with the smell of food and whispers of laughter.
The reality is a silent glacier.
Wen Lingyi walked half a step in front of her, the distance was as precise as if measured with a ruler. She pushed the cart, her eyes sweeping across the shelves, looking blankly into the distance.
Zhou Jianxing picked up a handful of emerald green asparagus and approached cautiously: "Sister Wen, how about stir-frying this?"
Wen Lingyi's face turned sideways, her jawline tense. Her gaze lingered on the asparagus for a brief half-second, and she nodded ever so slightly. There was no sound.
Zhou Jianxing tightened his fingers, and the asparagus fibers poked at his palms.
She picked up another box of soft tofu: "How about this, make a soup?"
Shake your head. A smaller shake.
All temptations hit this wall of silence, bounced back, and left a cold echo.
When selecting meat, Wen Lingyi simply pointed to the packaged ribs in the freezer. Zhou Jianxing bagged them and weighed them. The whole process was like a pantomime.
Zhou Jianxing could only stare at Wen Lingyi's distant back as she pushed the cart in front of her. The distance made her throat clog. Her sweet fantasy shattered to the ground, and every step she took was painful.
In the carriage on the return trip, the only sound was the low hum of the air vents.
Zhou Jianxing tried to speak several times, but the air was so thick she couldn't breathe. She looked at Wen Lingyi, whose lips were pressed into a pale line, her gaze fixed on the night outside the windshield.
The gesture of rejection was like an invisible barrier, blocking all the questions Zhou Jianxing wanted to ask, "What's wrong with you?"
In the end, she just lowered her head and stared at her fingers that were stained with water from the supermarket packaging bag.
·
After taking a shower and changing into clean white home clothes, Zhou Jianxing took a deep breath and walked down the stairs.
The living room was filled with an unfamiliar, slightly pungent, unpleasant smell of tobacco. Wen Lingyi sat on the sofa, a slender cigarette between her fingers, a scarlet sliver flickering in the dim living room light. Wisps of grayish-white smoke lingered around her silent figure.
She didn't look at Zhou Jianxing, but instead cast her gaze at the dark night outside the window.
Zhou Jianxing paused for a moment, his heart seemed to be wrapped tightly by the smoke, and the toxin seeped into his blood.
This was the first time she knew Wen Lingyi smoked. The smell was incompatible with the usual cool fragrance of Lanyue Bay, with a decadent and distant feeling.
She didn't want to see Wen Lingyi smoking. It wasn't because she hated smoking or was afraid of inhaling secondhand smoke.
I just simply don't want Wen Lingyi to hurt my body.
The words of dissuasion were ultimately stuck in her throat. She didn't say anything, shifted her gaze away from Wen Lingyi, walked lighter, and headed straight for the lighted kitchen.
Zhou Jianxing walked in and began preparing the food. Water washed over the vegetables, and the rhythmic chopping sound echoed on the chopping board. She tried to focus on her movements, trying to ignore the silent smoke in the living room.
There were light footsteps. Wen Lingyi appeared at the kitchen door and walked in.
She didn't approach the stove, but leaned against the counter, her arms folded across her chest. There was no smoke between her fingers, but the smell of tobacco seemed to linger around her, mixing with the aroma of food rising from the pot, forming a strange, unsettling conflict.
Wen Lingyi's gaze penetrated the warm light of the kitchen and fell directly on Zhou Jianxing, like a cold probe, examining her every movement of washing vegetables, cutting meat, heating oil, and putting the meat into the pot.
Zhou Jianxing's neck stiffened. That gaze seemed to carry weight, weighing down her wrists, making her stir-frying movements clumsy.
She didn't dare look back and could only stare at the ingredients boiling in the pot.
The roar of the range hood couldn't fill the dead vacuum between them. Silence was like a tangible entity, expanding and squeezing the small space, making every breath feel like suffocation.
·
The dish was finally out of the pot. Wen Lingyi stood up, not looking at her again, and turned to walk towards the restaurant.
Zhou Jianxing followed him out carrying the plate.
Wen Lingyi silently took out the dishes and chopsticks from the cupboard and put them on the dining table.
The two sat facing each other, the light casting a cold, hard spot on the delicate bone china dishes.
Zhou Jianxing picked up the bowl, the steam rising from the rice blurring her vision. She picked up a piece of tender ribs and tentatively, flatteringly, placed it in Wen Lingyi's bowl.
Wen Lingyi lowered her eyes and used chopsticks to push the piece of meat away without touching it.
She only symbolically took a few mouthfuls of rice from the bowl, then with a "thump", she pushed the bowl forward, and the bottom of the bowl made a crisp sound when it hit the table.
"I'm full."
She fished out her cigarette case and lighter. The click of the metal cover popping open was unusually harsh in the silent restaurant.
The flame leaped up, lighting a new cigarette. She took a deep breath, the smoke slowly exhaled from her red lips, spreading between them, separating the remaining, still steaming dishes on the table.
The smoke was like the last straw that broke Zhou Jianxing's tense nerves.
She gently put down the dishes and chopsticks, and the sound of the ceramic kissing the table was particularly harsh in the silence.
"Sister Wen, what's wrong with you?" Her voice trembled uncontrollably, like a taut string finally breaking. "Did I do something wrong? Can you tell me?"
Wen Lingyi's fingers holding the cigarette stopped in mid-air, and smoke curled up.
She raised her eyes and saw that Taohuatan was frozen, with the ice crystals sharply piercing towards Zhou Jianxing.
"At noon at the cafe," she said in a low, even calm voice. "What were you covering up when you paid the bill?" A chill ran through every word. "What's that shameful thing on your phone? Are you afraid I'd see it?" She sneered, cigarette ash falling as her fingertips trembled. "Which 'friend' are you chatting with again? Hmm?"
·
Zhou Jianxing was stunned. She didn't expect Wen Lingyi to care about such things.
Does this mean that Wen Lingyi also really likes her, so that's why she cares?
Is this emotion generally called jealousy?
This realization was like a strong light that split the fog, instantly dispelling all grievances and confusion, leaving only overflowing satisfaction and incredible happiness.
Zhou Jianxing stood up, walked around the dining table and came to Wen Lingyi.
Wen Lingyi turned her face away, avoiding her gaze, and leaned back with obvious resistance.
Zhou Jianxing squatted down and reached out without hesitation to hold Wen Lingyi's hand on her knees. His fingertips touched the cold skin on the back of her hand, but Wen Lingyi pulled her hand back suddenly as if she was scalded, with disgust in her movement.
Zhou Jianxing's eyes dimmed. She no longer tried to shake that hand, but reached out quickly, reaching for the burning cigarette between Wen Lingyi's fingers. Her movements were so fast that she could barely react, her fingers precisely pinched the cigarette butt and snatched it away forcefully.
The scarlet flame was fiercely extinguished on the cold, hard marble table.
The next second, Zhou Jianxing rushed forward.
She supported the back of the chair behind Wen Lingyi with one hand, and without saying a word, she grabbed her chin with the other hand. She leaned over and forcefully sealed Wen Lingyi's red lips, which were slightly open in surprise, and still had the aftertaste of food and a hint of tobacco.
She felt Wen Lingyi's feelings for her, and she was responding and also getting confirmation from him.
Wen Lingyi was stunned. After she came to her senses, she began to struggle violently. She put her hands on Zhou Jianxing's shoulders and pushed hard. However, Zhou Jianxing's body was like a wall, motionless.
In this situation, how dare you kiss her forcefully?
Wen Lingyi's eyes were filled with rage. She bent her knees and, with all her might, kicked Zhou Jianxing's calf. Her anger had been pent up and fermenting for an entire afternoon.
"Well!"
A muffled groan. Sharp pain shot through his calf, like being hit by a hammer. Zhou Jianxing instantly lost his strength, loosening his grip on Wen Lingyi's jaw. He stumbled back a step, doubled over in pain, and clutched the spot where he had been kicked.
My eye sockets quickly turned red uncontrollably, and physiological tears gathered at the bottom of my eyes.
She raised her head and looked at Wen Lingyi with tearful eyes. She was still in shock and her chest was heaving. She said nothing, but just bit her lower lip and took out her cell phone from her trouser pocket with trembling hands.
The screen unlock light came on, and she didn't even look at it and handed it directly to Wen Lingyi.
Wen Lingyi was panting, her eyes subconsciously focused on the lit screen.
Breathing stopped for a moment.
In the center of the screen was her face, a carefully composed photo she had posted on WeChat Moments.
The lighting was soft, the angles were clever, and even she herself was satisfied with her natural look. The most striking thing was the small, delicate star-shaped hairpin in her hair—a small thing she had rummaged through for ages that day before finally finding.
Her photo was set as Zhou Jianxing's mobile phone wallpaper.
Zhou Jianxing's voice was choked with sobs: "You can see anything on my phone." She forcefully stuffed the phone into Wen Lingyi's frozen hand. The metal casing carried Zhou Jianxing's body temperature. "No matter what it is, you can see it."
She stared into Wen Lingyi's eyes, her eyebrows and eyes turned down: "Don't be angry with me."
The phone in her palm felt like a piece of red-hot iron. Wen Lingyi's fingers curled up, as if burned by the heat.
She looked at her own enlarged face on the screen, at the small star hairpin, then at Zhou Jianxing's red eyes and stubborn yet fragile expression. A mixture of shame, relief, and helplessness surged up in her throat, making it constrict.
She lowered her eyes, avoiding Zhou Jianxing's gaze, her voice low and hoarse, with a hint of embarrassment that was hard to conceal: "...No need." She gently put the phone back into Zhou Jianxing's open palm, and her fingertips stroked the slightly cool skin of the other's palm.
After a pause of several seconds, a lower voice, almost in the throat, sounded:
"……sorry."
Zhou Jianxing took the phone, squatted down again, raised his face, and stubbornly followed Wen Lingyi's evasive gaze. In those wet eyes, there was only an obsession that made Wen Lingyi panic and a gentleness that was almost indulgent.
"I'm sorry," Zhou Jianxing's voice softened and pleaded, "I was afraid you would be angry with me... so I avoided you." She sniffed and her eyes fell on the food that Wen Lingyi had hardly touched, "Can you eat a little more? Look, you only ate a little at night..." Her tone was almost humble.
Wen Lingyi looked into those eyes, her stomach still feeling heavy and she had no appetite.
But Zhou Jianxing's persistence and that cautious plea entangled her like a soft thread. She silently picked up her bowl and chopsticks, sat down again, picked up the ribs that had been split, and mechanically put them into her mouth, forcing herself to chew and swallow.
Zhou Jianxing squatted at her feet, tilted his head back, and looked at her without blinking.
After dinner, Wen Lingyi silently began to collect the dishes. Zhou Jianxing immediately held her hand and said, "I'll wash them." Her eyes brightened again, "You go take a shower."
Wen Lingyi did not argue. She withdrew her hand, the warmth of Zhou Jianxing's palm still lingering on her fingertips. She turned around and paused before leaving the restaurant.
She didn't turn around, her voice muffled, as if squeezed out from her chest through something:
"Stay here tonight."
A clear, trembling voice came from behind: "Okay."
·
Wen Lingyi wiped her wet hair and walked out of the bathroom. The bedroom was empty. She frowned and went downstairs.
There was only a floor lamp on in the living room, and the light was dim.
Zhou Jianxing was sitting quietly on the sofa, concentrating on looking at the cigarette box she had thrown on the coffee table. The silver cigarette box glowed coldly under the light, like a silent warning or an unsolved puzzle.
Zhou Jianxing's silhouette appeared thin and fragile in the soft light.
"Go upstairs and sleep." Wen Lingyi's voice broke the silence.
Zhou Jianxing finally came back to his senses, raised his head suddenly, his eyes still a little confused, then quickly focused on her, nodded, and stood up.
·
Wen Lingyi returned to the bedroom and pointed to the edge of the bed covered with a dark silk bedspread. "Sit here."
Zhou Jianxing sat down obediently, somewhat confused. Wen Lingyi squatted down in front of her.
The height difference made Zhou Jianxing's heart skip a beat.
Wen Lingyi reached out her hand, pinched the loose leg of Zhou Jianxing's white cotton and linen wide-leg pants with her fingertips, and gently pulled it up.
The skin of his calf was exposed to the light. A clear bruise with a purple-red edge appeared on his shin, which was still particularly glaring against Zhou Jianxing's wheat-colored skin.
The bruises and swelling were like an ugly mark, truly engraving the force she had just lost control of.
That little fool Zhou Jianxing didn't say a word even after being kicked like that by her.
Those silly words, “It’s okay…it’s okay even if it hurts,” seemed to ring in my ears again.
Wen Lingyi's heart felt like it was twisted by the color of the bruise. She stood up, dug out the medicine box from the cabinet in the corner of the cloakroom, and took out the blood-activating and blood-stasis-removing ointment. She squeezed the milky white paste with a minty coolness onto her fingertips.
She squatted down again and gently applied the cool ointment to the bruise. With a little pressure, her fingertips carefully rubbed it in, letting the medicine seep in. The minty scent of the ointment spread through the air, carrying a hint of spicy coolness.
Zhou Jianxing lowered his head and his gaze fell on the top of Wen Lingyi's head.
The wet hair ends still had moisture on them, and they lay softly against the graceful neckline.
From this angle, she could see Wen Lingyi's drooping eyelashes, casting a small shadow under her eyes.
Wen Lingyi's slender, snow-white fingers slowly circulated the darker skin of her calves, her movements focused and gentle. The cool touch and the strength of her fingertips miraculously soothed the dull ache beneath her skin, bringing an indescribable tingling sensation that spread all the way to the depths of her heart.
Zhou Jianxing watched, completely absorbed. The corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably, and the muscles around his eyes relaxed without him noticing. His eyebrows curved, and a silent smile spread across his face.
"Does it hurt?" Wen Lingyi lowered her head, her voice muffled as if it was trapped in a jar, and her hands did not stop moving.
Zhou Jianxing spoke softly, gazing into Wen Lingyi's downcast eyes, and answered seriously, "It doesn't hurt. We often get injured while working, a poke or scratch from a tool. It's normal. It's okay."
Wen Lingyi said nothing more. The skin beneath her fingertips felt warm, the swelling from the blood bruises radiating through the ointment. Silence still hung between them, but it was no longer cold, a tranquility tinged with the minty scent of the ointment.
The ointment was evenly applied. Wen Lingyi then lowered Zhou Jianxing's trouser leg to cover the bruise. She raised her head and met Zhou Jianxing's smiling eyes. Those eyes sparkled, as if filled with tiny starlight.
Zhou Jianxing looked at her, moved his lips, and the words "Sister Wen... I'm very happy" came out of his mouth.
I'm happy that you care, I'm happy that you're angry, I'm happy that you're gentle at this moment.
But she didn't dare to say the subsequent explanation, but her smile deepened.
Wen Lingyi's gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds. Zhou Jianxing's pure, unclouded smile was like a ray of light, briefly dispelling the remaining gloom in her heart. Fortunately, she wasn't angry with herself.
But what is there to be happy about?
Wen Lingyi stood up and looked down at Zhou Jianxing, who was still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking up at her with a silly smile.
The light cast a blurry halo behind her.
A very faint, almost invisible helplessness, mixed with some indescribable softness, passed through Wen Lingyi's eyes.
She stretched out her hand, her fingertips carrying a hint of cool residual ointment, and gently brushed across the soft hair on Zhou Jianxing's forehead.
"Fool," she whispered.
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