PSE - 34

In the bathroom, in front of the mirror cabinet.

Ha Yue first gathered all her hair with the hair tie on her right wrist, pulling it back behind her head. Then, taking the scissors handed to her by Xue Jing, she decisively cut off her long hair in one swift motion. The burnt ends, which had reached her collarbone, were now gone—she had cut nearly fifty centimeters of hair without a moment’s hesitation.

Without any attachment, she tossed the severed hair into the trash bin. Loosening the hair tie, she ran her fingers through the remaining strands, removing any leftover stubble, then rinsed both the scissors and her hands under the faucet.

Just a step away, Xue Jing was still standing in the bathroom. When he had brought the scissors, he had been ready with plenty of witty remarks to lighten the mood.

But now, watching Ha Yue take the scissors from him and, in a matter of seconds, cut off her long hair, he let out a startled yelp—like that of a wild animal casually strolling through the forest suddenly encountering an invasive species.

Hearing the sound, Ha Yue looked up. In the mirror, under the harsh overhead light, Xue Jing standing behind her appeared like a delicate oil painting.

His sunken eye sockets and dark circles made him look exhausted, and his face, pale with fatigue, also bore an expression of astonishment. He had climbed out of bed unprepared to receive guests and was wearing a thin pajama set.

The white base fabric with black edges gave off a somewhat dignified appearance, but the pajamas were covered in cartoon puppies of various shapes, clashing horribly with his refined features.

Ha Yue herself owned two similar pajama sets in her closet. It seemed that no matter who you were, adapting to local customs was inevitable. Perhaps because his current state appeared approachable, pitiable, and endearing, the spring in Ha Yue’s mind softened.

People were especially vulnerable when they felt down, instinctively seeking warmth and comfort.

In fact, before knocking on the door, Ha Yue had already decided to accept Xue Jing’s half-hearted advances. He needed her to help him finish his new work, and wasn’t she also enjoying the occasional escape from her endless, dreary life?

Even a broken plastic bag could tumble in the wind—let it be a vacation for her spirit. She needed this temporary sense of being needed.

Besides, once Xue Jing discovered Zhao Chunni’s condition, the so-called better future he sought would vanish. The cold, self-serving Xue Jing wouldn’t choose to stay.

Renting a bare apartment and driving a second-hand car were merely temporary measures for his writing. Her handsome and selfish ex-boyfriend never planned a future in Suicheng.

Works would come to an end. Once he regained his writing momentum and entered his next peak period, this fleeting ambiguity could dissipate at any moment.

Xue Jing’s lingering feelings of regret and dissatisfaction over their breakup would eventually be smoothed out by reality.

What made beauty beautiful was that it remained in the past.

She truly didn’t need to worry about Xue Jing’s demands—he was investing small sums for larger returns; he wouldn’t engage in losing deals. Nor did she worry about herself, as she was skilled at saying goodbye. At this stage, she didn’t crave great love to blossom and bear fruit.

There was no feast that didn’t end, because tenderness was controllable—and therefore comfortable.

So now, seeing his awkwardness, Ha Yue didn’t hold back her amusement and laughed loudly if she wanted to.

With a teasing glint in her laughing eyes, she teased him, “What, scared again?”

“I’ve wanted to say this for a long time—you really get startled easily. I didn’t ask you to slaughter a goose; the hair I cut was mine. What are you afraid of? Are you naturally timid or something?”

Rich people valued their lives dearly—they were indeed cowardly and fearful of trouble.

Xue Jing was meticulous in many ways, almost like a little girl, and not as bold as her.

“What do you mean?” Xue Jing clicked his tongue, noticing her radiant gaze and slightly reddened ear tips.

Immediately after, Ha Yue shook her head towards the mirror and commented, “Do all men prefer women with long hair? Is short hair really that ugly? I think it’s fine—at least it’s more convenient to wear a helmet. You don’t know how troublesome it is to dry in winter.”

“Is it that short hair doesn’t stimulate your male hormones? What should we do, Mr. Xue the Great Writer? Should I grow it back? The hair salons probably aren’t open.”

Ha Yue’s hair was of excellent quality. Over the years, she hadn’t dyed or permed it, making it particularly glossy and black. Without the weight of long hair, the ends now flowed between her chin and collarbone like water, giving her a natural, unadorned beauty that made her face appear strikingly cold and elegant.

“Who said it was ugly? Really, my hormones are just fine, don’t worry about it.”

Ha Yue hadn’t changed her habit of being a debater in school. She was adept at dangling carrots to make Xue Jing spin in circles, dismantling his defenses with just a few words.

Xue Jing was about to protest that he wasn’t such a shallow man focused only on appearances, but in the mirror, Ha Yue had already sealed her lips, dismissing the case entirely, treating him as no outsider. She walked to the shower area, turned on the showerhead, and began unbuttoning her top.

Underneath the gray quilted housecoat, Ha Yue wore a thin white slip dress. As she moved, large expanses of smooth, fair skin eagerly exposed themselves to Xue Jing’s irises.

Ha Yue thought that since they had already slept together numerous times when they were younger, there was no need to act coy in front of Xue Jing.

But Xue Jing’s heart pounded wildly, as if struck by lightning.

Unlike that night in the dimly lit hotel room where they were very close, Xue Jing had fallen into the sticky sounds of water, barely seeing anything except Ha Yue’s shimmering eyes.

Now it was broad daylight, and Xue Jing, to ward off the cold, had installed eight high-wattage heat lamps in the bathroom. All these bulbs now brightly illuminated Ha Yue, creating a spotlight effect. He could clearly see the small mole on her collarbone, familiar from the past.

Because of her slender, hard bones, even though her skin was firm, it appeared incredibly soft, with a silky, buttery texture. On her otherwise pristine skin, besides the tiny sesame-sized dark spot on her shoulder and neck, Xue Jing knew she had another birthmark slightly to the right in the groove of her lower back.

The birthmark was an incomplete circle, like a period whose ink hadn’t yet dried, or like the moon rising over the sea amidst the fog.

His fingertips had caressed it, his lips had tasted it.

Even more so now, his crude thoughts ran wild in his mind—he wanted to do the same to other parts of her body.

In the past, he hadn’t dared to mention such things to Ha Yue, fearing she’d think him vulgar. But after what happened last time, his courage had grown considerably.

Before moving in, there hadn’t been any major renovations—most of the changes were made through soft furnishings. The only barrier separating the dry and wet areas in the bathroom was a pane of frosted glass.

Water flows downhill. With the shower running, if he were to kneel on both knees, gripping the glass door, with his nose and mouth close to the floor, he’d probably drown if he choked on the water.

But changing positions was also an option.

His tongue felt oddly sweet and metallic.

Before his entire body could burn up and he descended into full-blown lust, Xue Jing hurriedly threw the new towel onto the heated towel rack, turned his head away, and said awkwardly, “You go ahead and wash first. I’ll... I’ll go... uh, lick—ugh! Get some water.”

“Alright.”

He practically flew out of the bathroom, nearly tripping over his slippers. Just as he stepped out, Ha Yue suddenly called after him.

“Xue Jing!” Her voice was soft and casual, the tone she used to use when calling him carelessly.

It was like summer fruit sorbet, with a slight tingling sensation between her teeth.

Xue Jing stopped in his tracks, rubbing his chin with two fingers for a moment. After a couple of seconds, Ha Yue’s voice drifted through the damp air and struck his heart.

“Thank you.”

She thanked him for covering Xiaoyu’s medical expenses and for gently warning them about the risks of carrying the pregnancy to term.

“But they’ve already decided—they’re going to have the baby no matter what.”

“They really need this child.”

“I know you don’t care, that you find it troublesome and aren’t interested. But after thinking about it, I thought I should still tell you the outcome.” After all, he had contributed to this matter, and she couldn’t blame him.

She had already transferred the money to Xue Jing on behalf of Jinzi. Like a clay figure crossing a river, she could only do so much out of neighborly kindness.

“Also, I’m on my period today, and I’ve already started bleeding. So stop letting your imagination run wild, alright?”

“I’m really here to rest. A chaste sleep.”

He truly dared to think, and she truly dared to say.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Xue Jing stood silently for a few seconds, then walked over to the full-length mirror to inspect his head from side to side. He couldn’t understand how Ha Yue’s gaze seemed to pierce right through his skull—it wasn’t as though his bones and skin were transparent.

It didn’t matter. He certainly wouldn’t feel ashamed even if she saw through his intentions.

Then, as if he hadn’t heard anything, Xue Jing walked outside and busied himself in the yard for about ten minutes. After drying the water from his hands, he pounded his shoulders, drowsily returned to the bedroom, and pulled a clean set of pajamas from the wardrobe.

The pajamas were women’s, just like the slippers Ha Yue was wearing—they were part of a matching set he had bought when moving in. Along with the coordinated pajamas, slippers, towels, and electric toothbrushes, he had also stocked the bathroom with tampons of varying absorbencies and safety pants.

There weren’t many high-end, minimalist-style products in Suicheng’s malls, so all the couples’ items were covered with various cartoon characters.

Mostly cats and dogs, but also counterfeit Ultraman and Pokémon figures.

In the past, he would rather have gone naked than wear such pajamas, but people’s tastes change. Lately, he had developed a fondness for ugly stick-figure drawings, even stopping to admire children’s backpacks adorned with cartoon characters.

Rubbing the black cat printed on the pajamas, Xue Jing collapsed onto the bed. His eyelids drooped heavily, but far from stopping his wandering thoughts, he even mentally praised himself for being so thoughtful weeks ago. Though he hadn’t prepared the fruits Ha Yue liked, these purchases had proven incredibly useful!

Even if he couldn’t write, it didn’t matter—he might as well become a young people’s emotional mentor in the future.

Reconciling with an ex-girlfriend? That world-class ultimate challenge? No one was better at it than him, Xue Jing.

Seriously, Ha Yue taking a bath in his house without locking the door, even informing him about her period—what more could he ask for?