Chapter 63: I’m Afraid That You Find Me Sickening
This translation is originally posted on https://love4baihe.blogspot.com please read it there. and check out other stories too.
That night, Wen Ruoxian ate the birthday cake alone.
The black forest chocolate had too much sugar. Being someone who usually controlled her sugar intake strictly, she felt sick from it. The next day, her throat was sore and painful, causing mild cold symptoms.
She rested at home for a few days, feeling groggy.
She kept thinking about the birthday gift until Ms. Song said, "Qingluo accepted it and likes it a lot." Only then did she feel completely relieved. She had been worried that Qingluo wouldn’t accept her gift, but after spending a few months together and getting a basic understanding of Qingluo, she was confident that she would like it.
That day, Ms. Song asked her, "Why didn't you give the gift to Qingluo yourself?"
[Every second I look at you makes me sick!]
Recalling those words, Wen Ruoxian felt a pang in her heart. She knew that Qingluo now disliked her, avoided her, and would be unwilling to see her, so she needed to be tactful and not force herself on Qingluo.
She sincerely replied, "There was a bit of unpleasantness between Qingluo and me. We both need time to cool off. It's not a good time to meet now. But the gift was prepared a long time ago, and it would be a pity to miss this surprise because of personal emotions. So, I still need Ms. Song's help with this."
At that time, Ms. Song was just Qingluo's mother, with no other identity.
The gift carried her feelings and blessings. Sending it out meant completing the task and also signaled the end of their brief but intense relationship. They would part on good terms…
On the last day of rest, her throat had healed. Wen Ruoxian cleaned out the two rooms facing south and restored them to their original state when she had just moved in.
Bedding, ornaments, photo frames… all packed into storage boxes and placed in a corner, along with her past and memories, sealed away. From then on, the door was wide open.
For one year and four months, she watched as the room went from being shared by two people to just one, then from one person to two again, and finally, back to just one. People came and went, but she remained here forever.
In the afternoon, Wen Ruoxian received a call about a delivery, with a package coming to her door.
She had bought the cute tableware that Qingluo had taken away, perhaps in a moment of impulse. After signing for it and seeing the box full of familiar cups, plates, and bowls, she felt a sudden sense of disinterest.
Cloud bowls, pillow plates, bathtub cups…
Looking up, she saw the living room sofa, imagining Qingluo sitting there playing games. She looked at the balcony, visualizing Qingluo standing there tuning her violin. In the guest room, she imagined Qingluo hunched over the sheet music, and by her bedside, she imagined Qingluo just waking up.
Why bother?
Wen Ruoxian smiled wryly and put the items back, sealing the box and taking out her phone to contact the seller for a return.
A notification popped up—
A reminder from a ticketing app.
She had bought VIP tickets for all the performances of the Jiangcheng Orchestra this month, with one scheduled for 7 p.m. tonight.
Attending the concert was the only way she could see Qingluo. She wasn’t sure which performance Qingluo would attend, so she bought tickets for all the shows, planning to go to each one. If she didn’t see her this month, she would try again next month.
The performance was still three hours away.
….
Arriving twenty minutes early, Wen Ruoxian circled the parking lot but didn’t see the familiar glacier blue. She knew she wouldn’t see Qingluo tonight, which left her a bit disappointed.
Although she hadn’t really held out hope.
She had come to enjoy the music and appreciate the art, something she had always loved, so it wasn’t a wasted trip.
She comforted herself.
Two minutes before the performance began, Wen Ruoxian reluctantly got out of the car and went in to have her ticket checked.
There were quite a few people tonight, and the hall was packed. She walked to the first row of VIP seats, looked up at the stage, and indeed did not see Song Qingluo.
The principal seat was empty.
The familiar Sun Yiren sat next to her in the associate principal position.
Soon, a woman with black hair came out from the left door, holding a violin. She slowly walked onto the stage, bowed, and embraced the conductor.
Wen Ruoxian was stunned.
Qingluo?
Her hair…
The mysterious and understated deep black color made her skin appear even colder, whiter, more noble, and serene. Yet the bright red halter dress she wore was overly sensual and flamboyant. The blend of red and black was strange but not contradictory.
She stood on the stage like a queen, looking down upon everyone.
The person Wen Ruoxian had eagerly wanted to see appeared before her, and she was both shocked and delighted, like a fish that had been out of water too long, yearning and itchy. But seeing that unreal deep black hair made her feel somewhat unfamiliar.
This translation is originally posted on https://love4baihe.blogspot.com please read it there. and check out other stories too.
The last time she saw black hair was months ago when they argued and Qingluo had worn a wig in anger. So this time—
Could it also be because of her?
Wen Ruoxian felt uneasy and withdrew her gaze.
Sitting in the front row, she should have been happy to see Qingluo up close, but now, Qingluo's black hair seemed to accuse her, the main culprit, unforgivable. She felt exposed, with no place to hide.
She couldn’t focus on the music for the entire performance.
She didn’t dare to look up, afraid of meeting Qingluo’s gaze by accident, which might disturb her emotions and lead to a performance mishap.
But she couldn’t help it and stole a glance.
Song Qingluo was focused and immersed, her face expressionless. Her black hair made her appear even more composed and dignified, while the red dress stood out against the somber black suit like a noble flower.
Any further gaze would be greedy.
After the performance ended and the audience dispersed, Wen Ruoxian remained seated, slow to rise. By the time she finally stood up, most people had already left. She walked toward the exit but kept glancing back at the hall. Her legs felt uncooperative, and she turned away from the parking lot, heading toward the side door.
Next to the side door steps was a small tree.
Today was just luck, and who knows when she might see Qingluo again. She stole one last glance from a distance, watching Qingluo leave.
She hid her body behind the small tree.
After waiting for about ten minutes, she heard laughter coming from the hallway. The orchestra members emerged in groups, some heading to the parking lot, others to the main entrance, saying their goodbyes by the steps.
“Miss Wen?” someone called out from behind her.
“Hey, Qingluo, your friend is here to pick you up.”
Wen Ruoxian was startled and turned around to see Song Qingluo and Sun Yiren walking arm in arm, coming from a small path and stopping in front of her.
She stared at Song Qingluo, her mind going blank.
“Then you two chat, I’ll leave first.” Sun Yiren smiled, waved at Song Qingluo, and walked away.
The surroundings fell silent.
The two stood in silence, staring at each other. The soft, warm light bathed their faces, and their long shadows on the ground overlapped as if embracing.
“Qingluo…” Wen Ruoxian unconsciously took a step forward.
She wanted to say something, but her lips trembled and then tightly closed. She was scared, finding herself unable to speak properly, not knowing how to talk. Every word seemed to provoke annoyance, every sound seemed to stir anger.
[Every second I look at you makes me sick!]
She had been standing in front of Qingluo for two or three minutes, over a hundred seconds. Qingluo had looked at her for over a hundred seconds, so it was easy to imagine how sickened she must feel.
It was an accident.
She didn’t have to disgust her.
“What are you doing here?” Song Qingluo instinctively took a step back. At that moment, she regretted it, but having already stepped back, she couldn’t return. She could only force herself to turn her face away.
Her heartbeat slowly quickened, a subtle joy rising within her.
Was she here to find her?
She even took the initiative…
Hearing this, Wen Ruoxian thought she was repulsed and quickly explained, “I came to the concert.”
Song Qingluo’s expression stiffened slightly, and the bit of joy was extinguished. She then realized she had been overthinking—Wen Ruoxian was merely here for the concert and they had just happened to meet.
She sneered inwardly, responding with a bland “Oh,” and turned to leave.
“Wait!”
Wen Ruoxian grabbed her wrist.
Her fingertips touched the warm skin, feeling the clear rhythm of the pulse, like an electric shock. She immediately let go but then wanted to reach out and grab something.
Song Qingluo frowned. “Is there something wrong?”
Wen Ruoxian had a lot to say, but the words were stuck in her throat, not knowing where to start. Her gaze lingered on Song Qingluo’s head. “Your hair…”
Song Qingluo gritted her teeth silently. “What about it?”
“Black looks good too.”
“...Thanks.”
The heartfelt compliment gave Song Qingluo great comfort. However, as Wen Ruoxian noticed her hair color, her mind was filled with a sense of revenge, almost wishing a loudspeaker would constantly broadcast in Wen Ruoxian’s ear: It’s all because of you.
Because of Wen Ruoxian, she hated her beggar self, her sycophant self, and also hated the silver hair that marked that period.
Because Wen Ruoxian had once said she liked her silver hair.
She had to dye it back to black.
“Why did you decide to dye it black?” Wen Ruoxian asked tentatively, taking a step closer.
With this question, the surroundings became even quieter, and the chirping of the crickets in the grass grew harsh.
Song Qingluo was taken aback, hitting a painful spot. She replied bluntly, “It’s none of your business. Don’t meddle in my affairs.”
She turned to leave again.
Song Qingluo froze.
“I’m sorry, Qingluo, I didn’t mean to disgust you. I was planning to leave, but I didn’t expect you to come from behind…” Her voice was fragmented by the wind, and she seemed about to crumble.
[Every second I look at you makes me sick!]
Song Qingluo's mind echoed with these words, and she was about to blurt out: “It’s not like that, I don’t find you sickening.”
Those were just angry words.
Her pride forced her to swallow it, grabbing at any remaining shred of composure: “You could have gone through the main entrance if you wanted to leave. This is the side door; it’s a long way to the parking lot and the main entrance from here. Is it really a coincidence? Wen Ruoxian, I’m not a fool. Of course, I don’t need an explanation. I don’t care whether you came to the concert or for something else, or whether you left through the main entrance or the side door. It has nothing to do with me, and I don’t want to know the reason.”
Her speech quickened, and her swelling emotions were about to burst. Before she lost control, she had to leave.
This time, she couldn’t stop or turn back again—
No matter what Wen Ruoxian said.
“It’s me who wanted to see you,” Wen Ruoxian looked at her back, her legs feeling as if they were filled with lead. “Just seeing you is enough for me. I don’t need you to see me. I… I’m afraid that you find me sickening.”
Speaking the truth made her feel lighter. She had no more secrets, nothing left to hide. Everything about her should be transparent in front of Qingluo.
Song Qingluo's steps faltered slightly but didn’t stop. She walked straight toward the main entrance.
Walking faster and faster.
Don't be soft-hearted.
Think about these days. She trusted Wen Ruoxian deeply, even if it meant she had to endure pain and suffering, she still gave the other person plenty of time.
Then think about those days when, after confessing her lies, she was sent to Cheng Suran’s side, and endured a lot of "torture," both openly and secretly. She endured and compromised, focusing only on the injustice Wen Ruoxian faced, only to realize in the end that it was just the other person’s way of showing trust.
Think and think, remember so much…
She could accept kisses from her, hugs from her, and sharing a bed with her. She accepted all of her kindness without question.
But she could not accept her as a person.
[There’s definitely some liking, but it’s not to the point of “I can’t live without you.”]
It is like this.
Just like this.
She had been pampered and cherished since she was young and had seen and tasted all kinds of good things. She shouldn't be lovesick and shouldn't be like those small-minded women who are easily swayed by cheap gestures—
So what if she came to find her today? So what if she confessed she wanted to see her? It’s still unclear and muddled tricks.
Even if it's easy to comfort her, it’s still being pathetic!
Song Qingluo swore silently and strengthened her resolve to stay away.
She had miscalculated; moving out wasn’t enough, and resigning wasn’t enough. As long as she stayed in this city, she would encounter Wen Ruoxian. Every meeting nourished her love-struck mind, causing it to grow wildly within her...
As she walked out of the concert hall, her eyes were already filled with tears.
She tilted her head up and saw the moon. Tonight's moon was large and nearly full, its cold light reminiscent of her silver hair. That hue had merely returned to the sky.
Her newly purchased car was parked by the roadside.
The car, in the same deep black as her hair, was low-key and calm.
Song Qingluo held back her tears all the way home and, once she closed the door, finally allowed herself to vent. She walked into the gym, put on her boxing gloves, and began to pummel the hanging punching bag.
The punching bag had her own photo attached to it.
“Let you be a love fool! No more love-struck thoughts! The sky won’t fall without her. Stop being so self-sentimental...” She cried and went wild, hitting harder.
Sweat beads as big as beans ran down her cheeks.
After going mad for over ten minutes, Song Qingluo was exhausted. She could no longer hit or cry, and all her remaining energy was spent, meaning she would be able to sleep well tonight.
That night, she did not suffer from insomnia.
But dreams came one after another, pulling and tempting her...
The next afternoon, Song Qingluo was woken up by the sound of her phone ringing.
“Qingluo, you need to check Weibo quickly. Someone posted a video clip with a lot of close-up shots of you. It’s trending,” she heard Sun Yiren’s voice.
Song Qingluo was groggy from sleep, her mind still struggling in the dream. She took a moment to wake up fully, then replied, “Mm, okay.”
She hung up the phone and opened Weibo.
Today’s hot searches were all peaceful. The updates of celebrities eating and drinking were all over the list, and at first glance, there was nothing unusual. Scrolling down the list, the seventeenth position was—
[Beautiful violinist attracts attention with eye-catching outfit]
“?”
