Chapter 23: Sweet Mouth
This translation is originally posted on https://love4baihe.blogspot.com please read it there. and check out other stories too.
Much later, whenever Wen Ruoxian thought of today's situation, she would always feel annoyed at herself for being slow.
"Your face is really red, you know.”
The breath near her ear and the soft lips of a woman seemingly touching but not touching, kept her heart hanging high.
Wen Ruoxian didn't notice it at all, so she raised her hand and touched it. It was indeed very hot.
She doesn’t need to look in the mirror to know how red she must be.
She panicked and pushed Song Qingluo away. With too much force, Song Qingluo stumbled backward, hitting a chair, her stance became unstable, and was about to fall.
Wen Ruoxian hurriedly reaches out to support her.
"Thank you Ruoxian-jiejie," Song Qingluo smiled sweetly, and naturally leaned into Wen Ruoxian's arms, "But why did you push me?"
Wen Ruoxian places her arm between them, responding indirectly, "What did you call me?”
Song Qingluo looks innocent, "Ah, is it not allowed?"
Wen Ruoxian pressed her lips and remained silent.
"Well, if you don't want me to, I won't call you Ruoxian-jiejie anymore..." Song Qingluo expresses disappointment, "Even though I really like that address."
She put her hands on Wen Ruoxian's shoulders, lowered her eyes, and mumbled something in her mouth, like a well-behaved and lovable kitten.
When the Young Miss said she liked it, Wen Ruoxian's heart softened and coaxed her: "It's okay, you can call me that way if you like it.”
Song Qingluo's fox-like eyes smiled like two crescents: "Really? Ruoxian-jiejie, why are you so nice to me?" She deliberately emphasized the pronunciation of the four syllables.
Wen Ruoxian tried to distance herself from the Young Miss, but she was sticking tightly, so Wen Ruoxian gave up and simply imitated her to relax a little: "Because you are cute.”
Song Qingluo looked directly at her, with a burning gaze.
Surprise, exploration... and a somewhat familiar but not fully understood feeling, something she had seen in others' eyes but hadn't experienced herself.
Unable to understand, she chose not to dwell on it deeply.
Wen Ruoxian felt uncomfortable being stared at and patted her shoulder lightly: "Okay, I still need to check my emails. Go and rewrite your work summary. I will check it later.”
"Why do I need to rewrite?" Song Qingluo's face was full of innocence, "Didn't you just say that my writing was good?"
If she can't see through her feigned ignorance, Wen Ruoxian would have doubted her intelligence. Wanting to harshly knock on her head but not being able to do so, she could only wish for her to improve, saying, "When you were in school, teachers probably eaten a lot of heart-calming pills."
"Hahaha…"
Song Qingluo immediately understood her meaning, "How do you know? I had the nickname 'Demon King' outside school. Nine out of ten teachers couldn't stand me, and the remaining one just couldn't be bothered, so they couldn't do anything to me."
"You annoyed teachers at school, and now you annoy your boss at work, huh?" Wen Ruoxian couldn't laugh or cry.
"Not the boss, but Ruoxian-jiejie. Ruoxian-jiejie will pamper me and yield to me," Song Qingluo's voice was soft, and the hand on her shoulder quietly wrapped around her neck.
"Your mouth is very sweet today.”
Soft yellow lamplight gracefully touches Song Qingluo's eyes, like a glass of shimmering amber wine, casting a reflection of Wen Ruoxian's entire face—delicate, slender, refined, and truly captivating.
She called to her intoxicatedly: "Wen Ruoxian..."
Wen Ruoxian felt her bones go numb when she heard her, and became a little nervous for no reason, “Mm?"
This translation is originally posted on https://love4baihe.blogspot.com please read it there. and check out other stories too.
Once again, Song Qingluo draws near, not stopping at her ear but maintaining a subtle distance. A slight tilt of her head could bring their lips together, "I have to go attend to tasks now, fulfilling the work you assigned to me."
After saying that, she simply let go of her hand, gathered her coat, turned back, and sat down in front of the laptop.
“..."
Wen Ruoxian was stunned.
It's like being thrown up by many hands, falling without anyone catching. In the moment of soaring, there is not only tension but also a bit of anticipation that she herself can't understand. She wants to know what the Young Miss will say, what tricks she'll have, what surprises she'll give her, teasing her into laughter.
But it's just a concluding sentence.
As the tension disappears, so does the anticipation.
Suddenly, a faint sense of loss surges in her heart.
Like water about to boil, before bubbles can rise, it slowly cools down.
Wen Ruoxian sits on the sofa, holding a tablet. Her fingertips glide across the screen, opening her email. It's as if she's a robot following programmed instructions, systematically opening unread messages.
While her body engages in these actions, her mind is still wandering.
She was obviously busy with work these days, but she had the illusion of being addicted to pleasure. Just like when she was a student, she became addicted to traveling for a certain time. After returning from one place, the immediate desire to visit another would consume her, neglecting meals and rest, entirely beyond her control.
This addiction later subsided due to exhaustion.
Could it be...
Was it Song Qingluo who gave her a sense of novelty?
With the first email, every word enters her eyes but fails to go into her brain. After reading, she recalls nothing, closes it, then reopens it.
Wen Ruoxian is slightly flustered, chasing away stray thoughts. She retrieves her glasses and puts them on.
Whenever she struggles to focus, this method proves most effective.
Outside the expansive floor-to-ceiling window is a nightfall river view, neon lights shimmering brilliantly. A leisurely cruise boat glides beneath the bridge, and indoors, it's tranquil with warm light and shadows. One person leans against the sofa, another sits at the desk. Even without communication, there's no awkwardness.
Song Qingluo diligently writes her work summary.
After typing a few words, she stopped and secretly turned around to look at Wen Ruoxian.
That woman sat on the sofa, legs together, face turned sideways, single hand supporting the forehead, focusing on looking at the tablet.
She wore thin gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose.
There were slight wrinkles between her brows, showing a bit of seriousness, and there was a cold temperament at the corner of her eyes.
Her coat was taken off.
Inside, a collared shirt with velvet, not too high, but every button remained fastened.
The more Wen Ruoxian conceals herself, the more Song Qingluo wants to peep, to grab her hands behind her back, and then with her mouth, undo those buttons... one by one.
How utterly evil.
Song Qingluo's dream made her heart feel hot and conflicted. How can she think like this?
How would the old-fashioned view her when she finds out?
No, no.
She looked away, patted her face, and then grabbed the phone next to her.
"Old-Fashioned Observation Diary"
The latest record is last week: January 17th, she was cold-faced to me for the first time. Although it was new, I was so sad [crying]...I got her ID number through work, and it turned out that her birthday was November 1st, which was also the day I met her again by accident. This means that I must be her destined girlfriend [laughs].
Five full pages, and it's time to turn another.
Song Qingluo wrote on a new page: January 21st, today I had evil thoughts about her, it seems a bit improper; this isn't good, and I need to reflect.
Writing it down is equivalent to venting emotions; evil thoughts will be taken away together.
Save and exit.
She returned her phone back to its original place.
She was wearing Wen Ruoxian's coat, and there was a fresh and clean herbal fragrance in the fabric texture. She smelled it, and her heart felt at ease…
In the next few days, Song Qingluo behaved a lot.
During the day, she wore a wig and followed alongside Wen Ruoxian and Xu Man, coordinating with government officials. At night, she freely adorned herself with her beloved silver hair, assisting Wen Ruoxian in organizing documents. To practice the violin daily, she carried it with her, playing two popular songs whenever she had the chance.
On the last night in Los Angeles, she compiled her work summary into a ppt presentation and solemnly handed it to Wen Ruoxian.
Then, she obediently waited for the boss’ evaluation.
Wen Ruoxian stared at the laptop, her long, slender fingers gently sliding the mouse. The lenses reflected the cold light from the screen. Her face showed no expression, whether it was good or bad, satisfied or not, no one could fathom her true thoughts.
Song Qingluo stood waiting nervously.
Like a well-behaved student who submitted homework to the teacher.
The short ten minutes felt like ten hours.
Finally, Wen Ruoxian exited the interface, casually saying, "It's okay."
hoo—
Song Qingluo revealed a relieved smile, turned around, and picked up the wig, saying while touching it, "Now it can retire with honor."
"Maybe it will come in handy in the future." Wen Ruoxian jokes.
"Let's talk about that later; in any case, I won't throw it away."
"Mm."
Thinking of the shock of dyeing her hair that day, she still felt lingering fear. She looked at the cold moonlight on Song Qingluo's head and whispered softly: "Fortunately you didn't really dye your hair black..."
Song Qingluo raised her eyes happily: "Do you like the way my silver hair looks?"
That sounded strange.
Wen Ruoxian, sensing her own sensitivity, thought for a moment. She couldn't say things that might easily lead to misunderstandings, so she carefully chose her words, saying, "From the perspective of visual freshness, as a common person, I naturally prefer silver hair. Because dark hair is everywhere on the streets, light hair colors test the delicacy of features and contours. Moreover, silver hair aligns more closely with your temperament and personality..."
"But this is just my personal subjective feeling. Don't let my influence affect you. Regardless of the hair color, you can handle it, and it looks good."
"..."
Every word is understandable, each sentence as well, knowing what she wants to convey.
But strung together into a whole paragraph, it feels odd.
Isn't it just a matter of preference?
Why express it in such a tactful and complex manner?
"Wen Ruoxian, have you ever been bullied by online trolls?"
"No, why?"
"Then why do you speak as if you're afraid of being challenged? Too cautious. I thought you had been hurt." Song Qingluo stared at her in confusion.
Wen Ruoxian paused, calmly explaining, "I haven't been hurt. It's just my habit. If it bothers you, I can change."
"Say it straightforwardly."
"...Alright."
"I'll ask again, do you like the way my silver hair looks?"
"I do."
"That's better." A sweet smile curved on Song Qingluo's lips.
"I'll need to touch up the color when I get back; it's been fading lately, and the black roots look odd."
Wen Ruoxian thought she was referring to her statement "I like," completely unaware of how this idea emerged. Without realizing it, she blurted out a reminder, "Don't speak ill of yourself. Black hair is also beautiful. Dye it whatever color you like."
"I know, I'm just touching it up because I like it. Haven't had enough of the silver hair yet. I'll consider it when I get tired of it."
"Mm, that's good."
Song Qingluo played with the wig in her hand, smiled narrowly, and slowly approached Wen Ruoxian's ear: “Ruoxian-jiejie, you don’t think that I’m going to touch up the color just because you said you like it, right?”
"No." Wen Ruoxian tilted her head and kept her distance from her.
"Oh—"
Song Qingluo suppressed her laughter and straightened her back.
"Well, then tell me, if silver hair suits my temperament and personality, what kind of personality do I have?" Wen Ruoxian relaxed a bit, offering some generic words, "Lively, cheerful, confident, and generous."
"No sincerity."
"..."
"I think black hair suits you very well, matching your temperament," Song Qingluo teased, annoyed by Wen Ruoxian's perfunctory response and wanting to retort.
Unexpectedly, Wen Ruoxian casually replied, "Prude, I know."
"Hahaha, you're quite self-aware!"
"Mm."
More than prude.
Also slow, conservative, and old-fashioned.
Unfortunately, she was born with a good-looking appearance, stealing away people's souls.
Song Qingluo couldn't bear to tease her further, tossed the wig aside, and affectionately linked arms with her. "Ruoxian-jiejie, it's okay to be prude Being good-looking is enough. You know, why are you so beautiful? In fact, girls love looking at beautiful women the most. Like me, I especially love looking at beautiful women, especially..."
The words held back half a sentence.
Wen Ruoxian's heart tightened again, that sense of tension and anticipation once again occupied her entire mind.
"What?"
"You."
This time, the anticipation didn't disappoint.
Yet, she became even more nervous.
"You're beautiful too," Wen Ruoxian instinctively replied.
"Nonsense."
"?"
"I know I'm beautiful. Everyone says so, and I feel it myself. I am a beauty," Song Qingluo raised an eyebrow, stating it matter-of-factly.
She touched her own face and smiled.
Wen Ruoxian gazed at her smile.
A myriad of feelings surged within her for a moment...
In Song Qingluo, there was a rare sense of ease, stemming from self-acceptance and love. This relaxation allowed her to radiate freely, showcasing her charm, often quite captivating.
She thought of Cheng Suran again.
Ranran used to lack that sense of ease; on the contrary, due to family reasons, she was always reserved, sensible, and constrained. Only in front of Jiang Yu could she let loose slightly.
Since being with Jiang Yu, Ranran has undergone some changes. She's no longer overly cautious, no longer constantly worrying.
While she may not reach the state of ease that Song Qingluo displays, it's already much better than before.
Isn't this what she hoped to see?
"Ruoxian-jiejie..."
The woman's charming voice sounded in her ears, and Wen Ruoxian collected her thoughts. She then saw Song Qingluo smiling and looking at her, momentarily shaken and forgetting to respond.
"Do you also like beautiful women?"
Author's Note:
Xiao Qingluo: Digging a hole for my wife.jpg