“Isn’t it normal for couples to sleep together?”
The night was deep and the moonlight was pale, shrouded beneath thin clouds in a layer of hazy, pure white light.
Chi Qian sat facing the stone wall, seeing two overlapping shadows on the dim surface. One was hers, and the other was Shi Jinlan’s.
Though it was a bit out of place, she noticed Shi Jinlan’s head was a size smaller than hers.
The shadow on the wall traced out a slender neck, faintly overlapping with Chi Qian’s, as if their necks were entwined.
In that instant, Chi Qian’s breathing slowed.
She couldn’t see what Shi Jinlan was about to do to her, nor did she know if Shi Jinlan was truly as close as their shadows suggested. All she knew was that Shi Jinlan’s hand was resting on her waist.
Those slender fingers caressed the skin of her waist, unhurried and methodical.
The touch was soft, with a layer of coolness. Nerves rarely exposed to the outside world trembled uncontrollably, as if an electric current was passing through, climbing up her waist in a fine, dense web, stimulating her heart and making her tingle uncontrollably.
Thump! Thump! Thump-thump!
Her heart beat faster and faster. Chi Qian felt as if her asthma was about to flare up again.
But her breathing at this moment was smoother than ever before, and she could even smell Shi Jinlan’s scent.
A few wisps of the night wind blew in, cool, faint, and restrained.
It was a clean scent, like morning dew.
And at this moment, this dew was falling upon Chi Qian, wetting her waist.
What is Shi Jinlan doing?
Even though Chi Qian didn’t want to let her mind run wild, the question Shi Jinlan had just asked and the position she was holding now were leading her thoughts astray.
In the middle of the night, two lone women together.
Isn’t this a little inappropriate…
“Shen—OW—!”
Just as Chi Qian was about to speak, she let out a howl.
Without waiting for Chi Qian’s answer, Shi Jinlan took a wetted medical dressing in one hand and began to disinfect her back.
The sudden, unexpected pain made Chi Qian jolt, her back straightening even more.
She subconsciously wanted to flee, but her waist was held firmly in Shi Jinlan’s hand.
It was an intangible sense of pressure, a casual yet firm grip on Chi Qian’s waist, forcing her to obediently sit still under the manipulation of Shi Jinlan’s fingers. How could she even think of running?
“Hurts?” Shi Jinlan’s fingers lightly strummed Chi Qian’s waist as she asked in a light voice, as if she didn’t already know the answer.
“No,” Chi Qian sucked in a sharp breath. “I just wasn’t ready.”
“Oh.” Shi Jinlan slowly and unhurriedly cleaned the blood from Chi Qian’s back, one wipe at a time. “This wound of yours isn’t very deep, but the scraped area is a bit large. Just bear with it.”
“Okay.” Chi Qian remained obedient, her hands, resting on her lap, secretly clenching into fists.
She had never been one to endure hardship, even as a child, and she was especially afraid of pain.
When she was little, to avoid going to the hospital, she had even climbed a tree to hide. In the end, though, she couldn’t get down on her own and had to cry for her father to carry her down, only to receive the most painful shot in the butt of her entire life.
The alcohol evaporated, filling the air with a smell one would only find in a hospital.
Shi Jinlan rolled the alcohol-soaked medical dressing over Chi Qian’s back. It hurt, but not as much as she expected.
The palm resting on her waist slowly grew warm, and Chi Qian’s tense spine began to relax.
She didn’t know if it was because both Shi Jinlan’s hand and the alcohol were cool, or if the fall from above had numbed her back, but it didn’t hurt as much as she had anticipated.
As if guided by ghosts and gods1, Chi Qian lowered her head and got a proper look at the hand holding her waist.
It was such a beautiful hand.
Compared to the last time she’d seen it, covered in scars and mottled with blood, it was now wholly exquisite, as perfect as a piece of the finest mutton-fat jade2.
The bones were long, slender, and slightly prominent, as if finely carved from jade. One look was enough to tell she lived a pampered life and had never done a day of heavy labor in her entire life.
Could a hand like this also carefully tend to someone?
As if struck by something, a thought stirred in Chi Qian’s mind, and her heart began to thump wildly.
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
Just then, Shi Jinlan’s voice sounded from behind her.
“What?” Chi Qian froze for a moment.
It was quiet in the cave, making every sound distinct.
Although her thoughts had just drifted far away, she didn’t feel like she had missed hearing anything.
“Your back, has anyone else ever praised it as beautiful?” Shi Jinlan raised her gaze slightly, her finger lightly tracing the outline of the wound on Chi Qian’s back.
The alcohol brushed a cool sensation over the uninjured skin, making her involuntarily straighten her back even more.
Chi Qian hadn’t expected Shi Jinlan to be so concerned with this question. She shook her head honestly. “No.”
“You’re the first.”
Hearing this answer, Shi Jinlan felt inexplicably satisfied.
Her eyes curved into a subtle smile as she said meaningfully, “Then can I take that to mean I’m the first person to see your back?”
The wind in the mountain ravine suddenly gusted, swaying the branches and startling a lazy bird into flight.
Chi Qian froze, instantly realizing that this strange feeling was called ambiguity.
Adding the word “first” to anything made it feel like a kind of mark had been made.
It was like an abrupt red circle on a black-and-white calendar; a day that was originally meaningless suddenly took on a different flavor.
She shouldn’t be having thoughts like this.
She was just a Task-doer.
Chi Qian subconsciously tried to avoid, to flee from this feeling.
She lowered her head, blinked several times, and then continued, “Actually, that’s not quite right.”
“In high school and college, we had communal bathrooms, no stalls. We’d all go from the dorm to shower together, talking and laughing. We all saw each other frankly3.”
“Is that so.” Shi Jinlan seemed to draw out the last syllable, then opened a small bottle of medicinal powder to apply to Chi Qian’s wound.
The white powder clung to the open wound, and the thin layer of blood was instantly devoured by the white.
“Ngh!”
Shi Jinlan gave Chi Qian no time to adjust; the pain came swiftly and spread over a large area.
Chi Qian bit her lip hard, her back straightening by more than a few degrees.
She subconsciously tried to pull away, but her waist was held in a death grip by Shi Jinlan’s hand, making it impossible to escape.
“Sit still,” Shi Jinlan reminded her.
Her voice was clearly as placid as before, yet it inexplicably sent a chill down one’s spine.
She didn’t dare to move anymore.
Chi Qian sat obediently, her brow furrowed as she processed the sudden onslaught of pain.
It seemed Shi Jinlan subscribed to the principle of “better a short, sharp pain than a long, dull one”4. After the powder was applied, the pain subsided.
After another moment, Shi Jinlan put down the medical dressing. “All done.”
She spoke crisply, and her movements were just as efficient.
The hand that had held Chi Qian’s gaze for so long was withdrawn.
As the warmth retreated, the coolness felt especially pronounced.
Chi Qian stared at the now-empty space where the hand had been, a hint of melancholy in her eyes. She then reached behind her back to quickly fasten her bra. “Thank you.”
“It was nothing more than lifting a hand5,” Shi Jinlan said casually, wiping her hands.
The cave fell into a brief silence. Chi Qian put her clothes back on, head lowered as she buttoned her shirt. Beside her, Shi Jinlan methodically wiped her hands.
The moon cast shadows into the cave, which, along with the light from a phone, fell upon Shi Jinlan’s hands.
Because she had just handled alcohol, her hands were still coated in a layer of moisture that gleamed brightly, dyeing her fair fingers with a hint of light pink.
Chi Qian’s fingers paused on a button. She felt more and more that this entire scene was a little… abnormal.
It was as if they had just…
Hit the brakes! Hit the brakes!
Chi Qian felt her face burning as she descended into a frenzy of, “If anything’s wet, it should be her fingers—no, what are you thinking?!” It was wrong to think it, but she couldn’t stop herself.
To distract herself, Chi Qian quickly put on her jacket, stood up, and grabbed her bag. “Miss Shen, should we take stock of our things?”
“Okay.” Shi Jinlan nodded and placed her own bag in front of Chi Qian.
In truth, Chi Qian was well aware that their two bags were just a smokescreen to disguise them as travelers; there wouldn’t be much inside.
So, Chi Qian combined her things with Shi Jinlan’s and counted them several times, only to arrive at the same conclusion. “This is only enough food for one day. Maybe if we stretch it, two days… It won’t last long.”
Chi Qian said, sighing in frustration.
She really had this system for nothing. It was useless for this, useless for that. Since its goal was for her to protect Shi Jinlan, why didn’t it send them somewhere with abundant supplies?
Doesn’t everyone say that you can only pursue spiritual enjoyment when you’re materially well-off!
She and Shi Jinlan were about to starve, and it still wanted her to use this opportunity to win over Shi Jinlan. What was she supposed to win her over with? Her own life?
“Have you given up?”
Chi Qian was ranting in her mind, but before she could get a response from Thirteen, she heard Shi Jinlan’s question.
“What?” Chi Qian froze.
“Didn’t you say you were going to get me out of here?” Shi Jinlan looked up, her gaze toward Chi Qian holding a hidden meaning. “Your plan just now was about how to survive here long-term, as if…”
“…you knew we couldn’t get out.”
Shi Jinlan’s voice was very soft, mingling with the chirping of insects as it reached Chi Qian’s ears.
The night was deathly quiet. Hearing those words, Chi Qian’s heart gave a loud thump.
Shi Jinlan’s calm eyes looked over, so dark they seemed to melt into the night, as if they could see through everything.
Chi Qian didn’t know if Shi Jinlan had truly figured it out or was just joking, but her less-than-stellar mental fortitude had her breaking out in a cold sweat.
“No… it’s just… I feel like when I fell earlier, I must have broken my sense of direction,” Chi Qian forced an explanation. “I led you around for so long just now and we still couldn’t get out. I need to clear my head for a couple of days. Let it rest for two days, and we’ll try again the day after tomorrow.”
“Is that so.” Shi Jinlan watched Chi Qian intently, taking in all of her nervousness.
Could she have guessed right?
Does this person really know we won’t be getting out of here anytime soon?
How would she know that…
Besides, the fact that we couldn’t get out of these woods no matter how we tried was truly strange.
The environment on the island is good, and the Big Dipper6 was clearly visible.
Yet, at certain moments, a leaf would block the view, and poof, it would vanish.
Furthermore, the phone Chi Qian gave her had a satellite function. She’d tested it before—it worked properly and wasn’t just some gimmick. A place like this should be able to get a signal.
These doubts linked together to form a strangeness that Shi Jinlan couldn’t explain.
The flames of her gaze burned, making Chi Qian’s heart tremble with fear7.
Please don’t let Shi Jinlan discover anything, she prayed. Otherwise, that stingy-ghost system will punish me again.
If I get another nosebleed here, I’ll really have no way to explain it!
“It’s getting late. Let me rub your legs first so you can get some sleep.” Chi Qian’s mind raced as she returned to her task.
Shi Jinlan glanced at Chi Qian, her eyes showing that she knew Chi Qian was changing the subject, but also that she was still thinking about her even at a time like this.
The wind rustled the leaves, disturbing the light and shadows in the cave.
Shi Jinlan narrowed her eyes slightly and went along with her. “You’ve worked hard.”
“It’s my duty.” Chi Qian breathed a sigh of relief.
In the past, Chi Qian had believed there were two kinds of silence in the world: a comfortable, carefree silence, and a fearful, anxious silence.
But ever since meeting Shi Jinlan, Chi Qian felt there ought to be a third kind——a silence that was both comfortable and frightening.
Chi Qian first laid out a thick grass mat for Shi Jinlan, and then began her work.
Meanwhile, Shi Jinlan had already taken the phone Chi Qian had recently given her out of her pocket.
The moon hung high like a curtain, and gusts of warm wind blew intermittently.
The phone’s screen cast a glow on Shi Jinlan’s lowered eyelashes, thick as a crow’s feathers. Her unsupported figure remained perfectly straight, leaving a silhouette in the moonlight that was unstained by even a speck of dust8.
She just wondered, what could you even do on a phone with no signal?
Chi Qian was a little curious, but she didn’t dare to look too openly.
She figured Shi Jinlan was probably reading a book, or perhaps she had her own business to attend to.
In any case, Shi Jinlan’s world wasn’t her world. She couldn’t even imagine the things Shi Jinlan did, and she would never have any contact with them in the future. Whatever Shi Jinlan was doing, it was best to just turn a blind eye9 and pretend she didn’t see a thing.
I’m on your side!
Chi Qian nodded to herself. After massaging Shi Jinlan’s legs for a while longer, she finished her work for the day. “It’s getting late. The sun rises early on this island, so we should get some rest.”
With that, Chi Qian stood up, preparing to go to the other side of the cave to sleep.
But before she could walk away, Shi Jinlan stopped her. “Where are you going?”
Chi Qian turned back innocently and replied matter-of-factly, “To sleep, of course.”
Unexpectedly, however, Shi Jinlan patted the thick grass beside her. “Come here. We’ll sleep together.”
“That’s not necessary…” Chi Qian hesitated.
Never mind the fact that women should maintain a respectful distance from each other.10
Besides, she hadn’t slept by herself in a long time, and she really missed her old life of sleeping freely without restraint.
Shi Jinlan, however, had other ideas.
The night wind wound into the cave, bringing with it a rustling chill.
The corners of Shi Jinlan’s lips curved into a smile as she looked up at Chi Qian. “Aren’t we a couple?”
“And isn’t it perfectly normal for couples to sleep together?”
The author has something to say:
Lanlan’s Day: Morning: Tease the puppy. Noon: Tease the puppy. Afternoon: Tease the puppy. Evening: Sleep with the puppy OvO
✨ Unlock Early Access to Chapters! ✨
Choose your perfect membership at bamboopandatl.net:
📚 Full Access ($4.99)
• Advanced chapters of ALL ongoing novels
• Access to complete finished novels
• Ad-free reading experience
📖 Single Novel Access ($1.49)
• Advanced chapters of ONE specific novel
• Ad-free reading for chosen novel
PayPal is the only current payment option!