Chapter 6
Half-eaten crawfish and two beer bottles sat on the table.
Lu Yin tidied up briefly before heading out.
“You’re leaving already?” Lin Qianqian called out, swinging her legs, her gaze darting around. The spicy crawfish scent lingered, making the rash on her face itch. She scratched it involuntarily.
“I’m going to buy some allergy medicine,” Lu Yin noticed her scratching, retrieved a mirror from a drawer, and handed it to her. “Don’t scratch. Apply the ointment.”
“But I can’t help it,” Lin Qianqian looked at her reflection with dismay, touching her face gingerly.
“Serves you right. You’re allergic and you still ate seafood,” Lu Yin muttered, picking up the trash and leaving.
Lin Qianqian’s eyes lit up. Lu Yin had actually shown some irritation, even snapping at her.
Progress!
Lin Qianqian dutifully lined the trash can, rummaged through the drawers for a new pack of cotton swabs, and applied the ointment with a mournful expression.
“Please heal quickly… How am I supposed to seduce Lu Yin with a face like this…” she mumbled. “I’m running out of time…”
Lu Yin returned quickly, placing allergy medicine on the coffee table before leaving for the institution again.
Lin Qianqian examined the medicine. The packaging was familiar.
As a child, her lack of self-control had led to frequent seafood indulgences despite her allergy. Lu Yin had taken her to the hospital several times, and she knew this particular brand of allergy medicine all too well.
She had learned to control her cravings as she grew older, but the medicine remained a household staple.
After applying the ointment, Lin Qianqian put on a mask and went out to buy food.
There was indeed a street food market downstairs, but its proximity to the subway station meant higher prices.
She ate a bowl of noodles at a random restaurant and bought some oranges on her way back.
No particular reason, except Lu Yin liked sour things.
Her international shipment arrived two days after her return, delivered to her door.
Lin Qianqian was picking out the largest, prettiest, and smoothest orange, writing three words on its peel with a black marker—
I’m sorry.
She wrestled a large sack and two boxes into the apartment, then opened them with a knife and began unpacking.
She had too many clothes. She was all about fun and enjoyment. While others saved a portion of their income each month, she spent a fixed amount on leisure and entertainment.
She stuffed vacuum-sealed bags of clothes into the bottom of the closet, then remembered her unpacked suitcase in the corner.
Inside was a reindeer plushie she had bought last Christmas.
She had intended to give it to Lu Yin, but had ended up cuddling it to sleep that night. It probably still bore the stains of her dried drool and tears.
She retrieved the plushie, dusted it off, and placed it on the coffee table, surrounded by unpacked clothes.
By the time she finished unpacking, it was completely dark. As she was about to throw the unwanted items into the sack, Lu Yin returned, taking in the mess.
“My luggage arrived! I’ll clean it up right away!” Lin Qianqian quickened her pace, stacking the boxes and dragging the sack towards the door.
When she returned, she saw Lu Yin holding the reindeer plushie, looking at it before setting it down.
“I bought it for Christmas,” Lin Qianqian explained defensively, hiding the real reason. “My friends and I bought them together. They had Santa, reindeer, and even a whole sleigh set. The reindeer was the only one left when I went to choose.”
She left out the rest. Abroad, she was always the most enthusiastic about Christmas. While others looked forward to Santa’s gifts, she always looked forward to the reindeer pulling the sleigh.
Because only during that time could she openly embrace everything related to Lu Yin.
Light-up reindeer antlers, reindeer plushies, and even a rewritten Christmas story where the reindeer kicked Santa and pulled a sleigh full of grass instead of presents.
Lu Yin nodded, showing no particular reaction.
Lin Qianqian finished cleaning up the scattered trash and watched Lu Yin go to her room, retrieve her pajamas, and head to the bathroom.
She picked up the orange, rubbed the words off with her thumb, leaving a black smudge.
The marker wouldn’t do. She needed paint.
But she couldn’t touch Lu Yin’s things. She sent Lu Yin a message.
Moments later, the water stopped running in the bathroom.
The next second, she received a reply: Okay.
She was surprised. Lu Yin used to ignore her phone for hours. Now, she replied instantly, even while showering.
But that wasn’t important right now.
Clutching the orange, she dashed up to the loft.
The paints were all unopened, with quantities marked on the boxes. Lin Qianqian didn’t touch them, looking for something else.
The paintbox and brushes were clean. She couldn’t find what she needed.
The low ceiling of the loft felt oppressive. She sat down impatiently, picking up a charcoal sketch from the rug.
She glanced at it, then her gaze drifted upwards to the empty wall.
She stared at it for a moment, then walked closer, noticing a hook meant for hanging a picture frame.
But the wall was bare.
She looked around, comparing the sizes of the easels and frames, trying to find something that would fit the hook.
As she pondered, footsteps approached from behind.
“Did you find it?”
Lin Qianqian pocketed the orange and turned to face Lu Yin. “They’re all unopened, and the quantities are marked. I didn’t know if I could use them.”
“You can use anything. I don’t really keep track,” Lu Yin bent down and rummaged through a box. “What color do you need?”
“Black. Black is fine,” Lin Qianqian replied, immediately receiving a small paintbox and a new brush. “Do you have a thinner brush?”
Lu Yin found her a thinner one.
“…Thank you,” Lin Qianqian turned back to the wall, pointing at the hook. “Was there a painting here before?”
Lu Yin glanced at the hook, her voice flat. “There was a painting. I took it down, but left the hook.”
“Did you paint it?” Lin Qianqian asked.
Lu Yin stared at her. “Yes.”
Lin Qianqian felt a shiver down her spine, despite Lu Yin’s calm and neutral expression.
She was simply wearing pajamas, her hair half-dry, her demeanor almost gentle.
“Then why did you take it down?” Lin Qianqian pressed, but she saw a flicker of refusal in Lu Yin’s eyes. “Sorry, that was nosy.”
“I put it away. I might hang a new one, but I’ve been busy lately, so I haven’t had time to paint,” Lu Yin explained before turning and heading downstairs.
Lin Qianqian touched the hook again, then followed, clutching the paint and brush.
***
In the bathroom, Lin Qianqian spat out toothpaste, replaying the scene in the loft.
It had been strange, but she couldn’t pinpoint why.
After a moment’s thought, she attributed it to Lu Yin’s attitude.
The cold and distant treatment made her suspicious.
She stared at her reflection. The IV and ointment had worked quickly, and the rash had faded considerably, leaving only faint red marks.
Her friends often told her, “If I looked like you, I’d wrap all the rich, short-guy-loving men around my little finger.”
Lin Qianqian had heard it countless times. She wasn’t particularly short, a little over five feet three, but among taller foreigners, she appeared small and delicate.
She picked up the orange from the sink, touching the dried paint. The words were permanent.
Cuddling the reindeer plushie, she skipped dinner and returned to her room.
Lin Qianqian couldn’t sleep that night. She set an alarm for the early hours of the morning, planning to leave the orange at Lu Yin’s door.
Lu Yin had no obligation to take care of her, yet she had come to the hospital.
Lin Qianqian felt guilty for disrupting her life.
Lu Yin bottled up her emotions. As long as things didn’t drastically interfere with her plans, she wouldn’t complain.
But in the past, Lu Yin would have offered comforting words and a smile. Now, there was only polite indifference.
Lin Qianqian spent hours agonizing over how to improve their relationship. Finally, with tired, burning eyes, she snuck out of her room and placed the orange at Lu Yin’s door, then scurried back to her room, slamming the door shut.
The next morning, dark circles under her eyes, she emerged from her room to find the orange gone.
Her heart skipped a beat. Breakfast was laid out on the dining table. Lu Yin, watching her, gestured towards the soy milk and steamed buns.
Lu Yin had already almost finished her breakfast. Lin Qianqian took a bite of a bun, the savory juices spilling out. She moaned contentedly.
Waking up to a hot breakfast was pure bliss!
“What time do you go to work?” Lin Qianqian asked, trying to gauge Lu Yin’s mood.
“Not for a while,” Lu Yin took her bowl to the kitchen, washed it, and sat back down. “Want an orange?”
Lin Qianqian stopped chewing.
She watched Lu Yin pick up the largest, smoothest orange and begin peeling it.
The words “I’m sorry” were facing away from her. She didn’t know if Lu Yin had noticed them, or if she simply didn’t care, peeling the skin regardless of her message.
Lu Yin looked down. She placed the pieces of peel on the table, one by one. The last piece was placed facing Lin Qianqian.
The three words were clearly visible—
I’m sorry.
This woman was doing this on purpose.
So sly.
Lin Qianqian cringed at her own foolishness from last night. She felt embarrassed for apologizing.
Lu Yin ate a segment of the orange and offered the rest to her.
“I don’t want any,” Lin Qianqian refused.
Lu Yin didn’t insist, turning the peel over and placing the remaining half of the orange on top.
“Don’t do anything so dangerous again,” Lu Yin warned.
“Leaving an orange is dangerous?” Lin Qianqian clenched her fist, imagining the chopsticks in her hand were Lu Yin’s antlers, and snapping them.
She had put so much effort into apologizing, and not only was it not appreciated, but she was being subtly mocked.
“I’m talking about your seafood allergy. The hospital called yesterday and said you went into temporary shock,” Lu Yin corrected her, her tone flat. Lin Qianqian was about to retort, “Well, the doctors saved me,” when Lu Yin continued, “They could only reach the emergency contact.”
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