PSE - 35

Turning off the shower, Ha Yue wrapped a warm towel around herself and wiped the steam from the mirror. She tore open the package of overnight sanitary pants placed conspicuously nearby, slipped them on over her ankles and up past her knees, then picked up the pink toothbrush from the rack.

Perhaps the electric toothbrush was leaking electricity, because as soon as her fingers touched the brand-new bristles, she instinctively curled her fingertips back.

The arrangement of items in the bathroom remained unchanged, reminding her of that sweltering summer attic in Jicheng.

Her life wasn’t particularly long or short, and she rarely felt attached to anything. But if she could return to one place after death, Ha Yue wouldn’t hesitate—she’d choose to drift back to that apartment.

Perhaps another couple would rent it by then. Who knew if their love would last?

After three minutes, she spat out the foam and patted on some ocean-scented men’s toner. Unable to find the hairdryer, she shuffled out to the living room in her slippers to look for Xue Jing.

Outside the window, daylight flooded in. The living room was silent, save for the faint, lingering scent of plum blossoms on the dining table. Ha Yue slowed her steps as she entered the innermost bedroom. Her slippers sank into the soft, long-pile carpet. Closer, closer, until only the shallow breathing of two people filled the narrow space beside the bed.

Xue Jing was asleep, still clutching the pajamas he had intended to give her to wear.

Xue Jing’s proportions rivaled those of an underwear model, and his flawless features only added to his appeal. Even lying on his side, fast asleep, he looked anything but foolish. On the contrary, his lifted hips and toned waist gave him a striking silhouette. His pale face rested against the crook of his arm, appearing exquisitely sculpted.

A good-looking exterior was perhaps the most meaningless value in the world—a gift from heaven, a pie falling from the sky, requiring no effort whatsoever. Besides, Xue Jing had already proven to her that a beautiful wrapper guaranteed nothing about the quality inside.

But humans are, after all, visual creatures—naively foolish like moths drawn to a flame. Beautiful people doing beautiful things always seemed more pleasing to the eye than their less attractive counterparts.

She didn’t dislike the sugar coating.

Unconsciously, Ha Yue’s previously bleak face regained its vitality. She gazed at Xue Jing’s sleeping face and sighed helplessly. Her brows were slightly furrowed in mild impatience, but her eyes softened with affection.

Like tending to a child, she first gently pried the pajamas from his grasp. Barefoot on the carpet, she dressed herself, then leaned down, threading her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck, attempting to prop a supportive pillow beneath his neck.

After some effort, Xue Jing was finally tucked snugly into the soft blankets. As she adjusted him, her loose strands of hair hovered and trembled above his face, water droplets clinging to them until one finally broke free, landing with a soft plop.

The transparent bead of water splashed onto Xue Jing’s face, sliding from his forehead down the bridge of his nose to his eyelashes. Instinctively, Ha Yue reached out to wipe it away, her fingertips brushing against his lashes. At that moment, Xue Jing groggily opened his eyes. His obsidian pupils shimmered like jet stones, reflecting her face.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he blinked once, still half-asleep, before closing his eyes again. His right hand absently groped for her wrist, startling slightly when he realized what he was doing. Opening his eyes fully this time, now semi-conscious, he mumbled drowsily, “Are you done washing?”

He had thought it was another dream.

“Mm.”

“Are you cold? I’ll turn on the electric heater.”

Ever since moving in, Xue Jing’s house had been running 24-hour air conditioning, an environmentally unfriendly setup. Besides the three air conditioners scattered throughout the house, there was also a two-meter-long baseboard heater at the foot of the bed in the bedroom.

Ha Yue shook her head, saying she wasn’t that cold. Xue Jing then pulled her wrist, drawing her into his embrace as they drifted off together.

The bedding, carpet, and curtains in the bedroom were all light-colored; only their hair and facial features stood out in black.

Xue Jing’s home resembled an overexposed photograph—empty yet exuding an unusual tranquility.

Silence was rare, and the weight on Ha Yue’s chest eased somewhat.

Just as Ha Yue found a comfortable position lying flat on her back, Xue Jing cupped her knees in both hands, bending her legs. Eyes still closed, he parted his shirt and pulled her legs toward him, pressing them against his bare skin.

“Hey! Don’t get any ideas,” Ha Yue exclaimed, her spine tingling as her knees brushed against the defined lines of his abs. Her face flushed red. Xue Jing was practically nose-to-nose with her, his eyes still shut as he lazily touched his aching ear with his middle finger and murmured, “Is warming your knees considered ‘getting ideas’?”

“You used to complain about knee pain during the first two days of your period. This is how I used to warm them.”

Ha Yue freed her legs from his grip, pulling them together. Recalling the past, her laughter carried a hint of reproach. “It’s all because I wore short skirts in freezing weather just to look good for our dates.”

After breaking up with Xue Jing, there had been no occasion where she’d willingly endure discomfort for the sake of beauty, even in temperatures as low as -28°C. Now, she no longer needed reminders to wear thermal leggings. On the designated days, she would preemptively strap on knee pads and other cold-weather gear.

“Really?”

Closing his eyes again, Ha Yue yawned and admitted frankly, “Yeah.”

Back then, she had been overly conscious of others’ gazes. Preparing for dates with Xue Jing often took an hour, and she still frequently ended up late. She would scrutinize her pores under a magnifying mirror, redoing her eyebrows if even a single stroke was off.

Foundation, concealer, highlighter—all essentials. Eyeliner, colored contacts, false lashes—not one could be omitted.

What terrified her most was walking with Xue Jing halfway through their outing when bad weather or wind would kick up dust into her eyes. Many times during their dates, she endured the discomfort without daring to remove her contacts in front of him. Every reflective surface they passed prompted her to check if her makeup had smudged.

If she discovered an errant thread on her clothes after their date ended, she would berate herself endlessly, wishing she could pinch her thigh in frustration.

Youth was both sweet and vexing—a time when excessive self-awareness kept nerves perpetually on edge. Consequently, the joy and excitement felt richer too. Those pink-hued emotions were like smoke bombs exploding ceaselessly, raining down glittering shards that appeared dazzling but were sharp-edged enough to cut oneself carelessly.

Turning over, Ha Yue inhaled the same scent emanating from both their bodies, curling up toward Xue Jing. Folding her hands beneath her neck, she murmured, “Thinking back, it feels so silly. Youth is invincible—embarrassing moments in youth naturally carry a certain beauty.”

Her nose twitched slightly. Xue Jing reached out, twirling strands of her hair between his fingers like a child clutching a security blanket.

“You’re still young now, and very beautiful. Neighbor, don’t you ever look in the mirror at home?”

Ha Yue snorted, resting her chin on the pillow before reaching out to touch his forehead. “Teacher Xue, are you running a fever? Why are you talking nonsense?”

“Have you forgotten how I rode that tricycle carrying you, and you looked utterly disgusted?”

“I kindly covered you with a small blanket to keep you from catching a cold or coughing. But you shot me such a disdainful look. Didn’t you throw away all your clothes once you got back to the hotel?”

“Tsk tsk, and then I invited you to dinner three times, but you refused every time.”

“When I helped you hail a taxi, you were probably cursing me in your heart, weren’t you? I could practically hear it!”

Now she saw right through him. Teacher Xue had mastered the art of feigning innocence, skillfully using sweet words to charm people. Only two out of ten of his romantic lines were genuine—the rest were pure theatrics designed to make her cry.

And considering he didn’t drink alcohol, what level of rhetorical mastery did that make him?

Xue Jing had started school early and was a year younger than her. In the past, she had always seen herself as the older sister, but sisters didn’t necessarily have more cunning than younger brothers.

Never trust artists—sentimentality was merely the release of professional skill.

“Ahem.” Caught red-handed, Xue Jing grabbed Ha Yue’s hand and spun it around, letting her rough, calloused fingertips graze his face. Then, he nestled his cheek into her palm like a cat rubbing against its owner.

Xue Jing’s voice was languid, carrying a melodious tone. “Come on, give me some credit. The past is the past, and now is now. Feelings flow, and people make mistakes.”

If there were a time machine, he would never let her ask him out three more times.

Besides, Ha Yue didn’t look that bad wearing a headscarf. Even the freckles she developed from prolonged sun exposure seemed to shimmer like ripples on a river whenever she smiled.

Love truly made beauty out of imperfection. Not only was he inspired to write his new novel, but now he felt like penning love poems every moment of the day.

Before Ha Yue could counter his romantic advances, Xue Jing pulled her into his arms. Her back pressed against his chest, his chin resting on the crown of her head. One hand wrapped around her waist, while the other gently touched her lips to silence her.

His voice softened again, as if marshmallows were being roasted over a campfire and drizzled with chocolate sauce.

“Let’s sleep. No more talking. If we keep chatting, I might start shedding little pearls.”

She slept until the afternoon. When she finally opened her eyes, Ha Yue found her head resting on Xue Jing’s chest.

Though she had resisted his embrace before falling asleep, her unconscious limbs had clung to him like an octopus in the night. The blanket had long been kicked off the bed. One of her legs rested on his waist, while the other entwined with his calf. Both her hands were inside his clothes, directly touching his skin.

Propping herself up, half of her vision was filled with the firm chest muscles peeking out from beneath his pajama collar, while the other half focused on his Adam’s apple, protruding like a raw crystal.

Looking further down, Xue Jing lay beneath her, sprawled out in the shape of a star. His pajamas were twisted into a knot, and his pants had been pulled down past his waistline. He looked like a docile lamb, allowing her to straddle him freely.

“My Sleeping Ex-Boyfriend Nearly Stripped by Me” 

What kind of restricted scene was this? Though Ha Yue inwardly scolded herself, her eyes couldn’t help but fixate on the area below his V-line, currently pressed under her thigh. It seemed Xue Jing wasn’t tired anymore—the tent in his pants was quite noticeable, stretching the fabric slightly apart. As for the faint pink hue visible through the material, it made her swallow hard.

The sound of her swallowing was embarrassingly loud—almost comparable to the cascading waters of the Lushan Waterfall plunging thousands of feet.

A surge of heat rushed through her, warming even her safety pants. Ha Yue commanded herself to stop acting like Doraemon and slowly rose, moving her fingers slightly. The sensation of his nipples immediately rebounded against her palm.

Ah, soft and bouncy, like fresh berries. If she bit into one, would he wake up? If they engaged in a fierce battle, she’d probably lose her life.

Terrified by the flood of inappropriate thoughts, Ha Yue’s hair stood on end. In just a second, she shifted from lustful fantasies to a state of complete detachment, pulling her hands away and flipping off the bed like a carp leaping out of water.

Chanting silently, “I’ll die, I’ll die, I’ll really die,” Ha Yue picked up the blanket and covered Xue Jing from head to toe, despite his disheveled state. When her fingers brushed against his chin, her lips tingled slightly. Taking a deep breath, she decisively covered his handsome face as though handling a forensic corpse.

With male allure banished from her sight, Ha Yue exhaled and finally regained her composure.

Checking her phone, it was 5 p.m. No one had called her, but she needed to return home to check on her mother’s condition.

Ha Yue knew that fleeing to Xue Jing was only a temporary refuge. Outside of Xue Jing’s world, both her life and her mother’s continued their long, arduous journey.

Xue Jing was still asleep, so Ha Yue quietly slipped out of the bedroom, changed back into her clothes, and prepared to leave.

Putting on the down jacket she had left at Xue Jing’s house and picking up her thermos, she paused while changing her shoes.

Just hours earlier, she hadn’t cried during her argument with her mother or when she was kicked out of the house. Over the past two years in Suicheng, no matter how meaningless or hopeless life felt, she had never felt the urge to cry. Crying was an emotion, and she stubbornly refused to indulge in self-pity, not even allowing herself to feel sorry for herself.

But now, seeing her own shoes on the floor, her lowered lashes trembled, and a warm wetness unexpectedly welled up.

On the doormat, next to Xue Jing’s expensive shoes, her muddy rain boots from that morning had been meticulously cleaned, free of even the smallest speck of dirt.

Picking them up to inspect, she noticed that even the tiny pebbles lodged in the soles had been carefully removed.

At first glance, they looked brand new.

It turned out that even the cheapest items, when cared for properly, could appear precious.

People who had reached the summit of success often started by nurturing their inner selves. She simply hadn’t understood this principle before—no one had taught her. Now, it seemed too late.

But at least Xue Jing, who excelled at loving himself, could once again enjoy the view from the mountaintop. The winds of fortune in his career would blow his way again—she just knew it.

On impulse, Ha Yue glanced back at Xue Jing’s desk before leaving. Walking over, she bent down and scribbled a note, firmly sticking it to his computer screen.