I didn’t expect Wen Wanbing to be such a straight shooter. Fu Junxue was stunned for a moment, momentarily dazed.
With that calm, waveless tone and that frank admission, if they were a real couple, or if Wen Wanbing’s romantic history wasn’t a blank slate this would have seemed like a perfunctory attempt to coax her and make her happy. Deep down, one might even expect a follow-up like: “Isn’t this the answer you wanted?”
“So honest?” Fu Junxue’s eyes curved with a smile, though the mirth didn’t quite reach the depths of her gaze. “Are you really jealous, or are you just teasing me back?”
Wen Wanbing tilted her head slightly. “I’m not like you.”
The cool moonlight poured between them like a hazy veil. The humid sea breeze rustled the oak leaves below, making the air feel both restless and damp. It wasn’t exactly the answer Fu Junxue wanted, but it wasn’t the one she didn’t want, either.
Fu Junxue arched an eyebrow, following the thread. “What about me?”
She leaned back in, applying the iodine to the remaining spots she hadn’t reached yet.
Wen Wanbing looked down, unconsciously picking at a hangnail on the side of her finger. Her voice carried a trace of unconscious resentment. “You just love to tease people.”
It was impossible to tell how much of it was real and how much was an act.
The iodine swab pressed firmly against a tiny nail mark on Wen Wanbing’s shoulder. The curved indentation merged into the dark brown liquid; under the filter of the night, it looked like a tiny crescent moon hanging in the sky.
Fu Junxue didn’t care how Wen Wanbing categorized her; she was more interested in the essence of the question. Her voice was low and ethereal, carrying a hint of a probe. “So, you really are jealous?”
“I don’t know.” Wen Wanbing paused, then asked, “What does being jealous feel like?”
Fu Junxue was nearly moved to laughter. “You don’t know? And yet you said it smelled like vinegar?”
“I feel… that’s probably what it is,” Wen Wanbing said hesitantly.
Fu Junxue couldn’t tell if Wen Wanbing’s neck was flushing from shyness or if it was a visual trick of the light making the iodine fade. She stared at the other woman’s neck, finding her reaction utterly fascinating. A word surfaced in her mind—charming and naive.
She couldn’t resist the urge to tease her more, to see her face turn red, and to hear her speak her mind so directly.
“What kind of feeling?” Fu Junxue asked with great interest. “Tell me, I’ll help you analyze if it’s jealousy.” Her tone was like a wise older sister guiding a child.
What kind of feeling?
A perfectly pleasant voice had started to sound grating; a face she should have admired made her unconsciously compare it to her own; a matter she shouldn’t have cared about made her want to get to the bottom of it. Resentment, discomfort, concern… a mess of tangled emotions, complex and beyond words.
Wen Wanbing knit her brows and mused, “I can’t describe it. It’s a bit like…”
She paused. Over the years, there weren’t many people she truly cared about; the only examples she could rack her brain for involved Wen Rushui.
Changing her approach, Wen Wanbing said, “It’s like being sick.”
Fu Junxue had heard this description before—she’d heard flowery words far more cloying than this—but coming from Wen Wanbing, it was different. It lacked the greasy feel of exaggeration and carried a hint of confusion and sincerity. It was a carefully weighed description.
This person really was a blank slate when it came to love. Fu Junxue laughed and teased in a low, melodic voice, “A little pure soul with zero experience~”
Wen Wanbing pursed her lips, her face feeling hot. She counterattacked: “Then what are you? An experienced old fox?”
Fu Junxue wrapped the used swab in a tissue and turned around, leaning her back against the railing. She clicked her tongue and expressed quite bluntly, “I like the ‘fox’ part; it’s beautiful, after all. But I don’t like the word ‘old.’ I’m only three years older than you. How am I old, you little brat?”
They were much more familiar now, and the atmosphere was relaxed enough for Wen Wanbing to be a little daring. The word “old” was indeed a bit disrespectful, especially toward a woman.
“Sorry.” Wen Wanbing weighed her words and asked, “Then is ‘Big Fox’ okay?”
She was being serious, but it was somehow hilarious. Could she not just drop the adjectives?
“I suppose that’s barely acceptable~” Fu Junxue tossed the used swab into the trash can by the bedroom door. She stepped back and rested her arms on the railing, leaning back to look at Wen Wanbing. “I’d much rather you call me ‘Fox Sister’~”
The chain on her earring swayed gently.
“Fox Si—” Wen Wanbing got stuck. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Her red lips moved, and after a long moment of hesitation, she squeezed out one word: “Vixen.”
“What? A vixen?” Fu Junxue burst out laughing. “Can’t bring yourself to call me ‘Sister’?”
Wen Wanbing hadn’t said that word in a long time. Her lashes trembled, and the light in her eyes—like the moon and stars hidden by shifting clouds—faded. She didn’t respond to that. Instead, she asked, “You still haven’t said what your relationship with Meng Xuran is.”
The topic change was exceptionally blunt.
Fu Junxue looked at her, idly spinning the snowflake-designed ring on her finger. She explained nonchalantly, “She’s my younger sister. I took our father’s surname, and she took our mother’s.”
Wen Wanbing turned slightly to face her, her expression one of genuine surprise. Their names were unrelated, and they didn’t look alike at all—they were two completely different styles: the gorgeous, sultry rose and the elegant, delicate hibiscus. Even though she knew Fu Junxue had a sister, Wen Wanbing had never imagined Meng Xuran in that role.
Fu Junxue was amused by her shocked expression. “Wow~ someone was jealous for nothing, it seems.”
Someone? She might as well have pointed right at her nose.
Wen Wanbing maintained a cold expression for a few seconds. This was her usual tactic: if she remained calm enough, no problem could touch her. But the moment her eyes met Fu Junxue’s, she felt a rush of heat toward her ears and face.
Wen Wanbing twitched her lip and quickly rattled off a string of numbers.
“What?” Fu Junxue didn’t even catch it.
“I’m reporting ‘someone’s’ ID number to you,” Wen Wanbing said with a face like frost, dryly poking fun at herself.
Fu Junxue was stunned, then she laughed so hard she couldn’t stand up straight. “If you weren’t so dead-serious, that wouldn’t have sounded like such a ‘cold’ joke. It’s both dry and hilarious.”
“What’s funny?” Wen Wanbing knit her brows. “I’m serious.”
That made it even funnier. Fu Junxue laughed for a good while until she was interrupted by an argument from below.
“Looks like it’s raining.” “I knew camping during the plum rain season was a disaster. I said we shouldn’t come, but you insisted. Last time was bad enough.” “It’s just a shower. It’ll stop in a bit.” “The ground will still be wet. This is so annoying. Pitch the tent yourself this time.”
Fu Junxue glanced down. It was two other diving instructors from their group. They were a couple; one of them had just shaken off the other’s hand, clearly done with the conversation, and retreated into their car. With a beep, the car locked. The other remained standing in the rain, eventually reaching up to wipe their face.
Fu Junxue turned back, the curve of her lips slowly flattening.
The air in the seaside village was already thick with the dampness of the ocean, and now with the rain, it became even more humid. It made Fu Junxue’s eyes—dark as the night—look misty and ethereal, as if even her gaze had been steeped in the salt of the sea.
“Wen Zhui-zhui, I actually quite like this about you.” Fu Junxue turned around, tucking her hair behind her ear and resting her hands casually on the railing. She opened her palms to feel the wind and rain passing through her fingers. “When you feel ‘sick,’ you just say it, rather than hiding it or bottling it up. Having a mouth isn’t just for storing fat or for show; it’s not for the silent treatment.”
It felt like Wen Wanbing was being singed by a flame that moved back and forth—sometimes warm, sometimes burning. She looked down, her fingers curling. The wind flowing through them was like an invisible rope, threatening to entwine her.
She saw Fu Junxue turn her wrist and drop her hand. She looked a bit resentful. Perhaps it was because it was getting late, or perhaps because of the rain, but the wind carried a chill that didn’t belong to summer.
Wen Wanbing knit her brows and asked, following her lead, “Have you been given the silent treatment before?”
“Yes.” Fu Junxue turned back, leaning against the railing to meet Wen Wanbing’s eyes. Her tone was as light as if she were discussing someone else’s business. “Are you surprised? Did you think that someone as good-looking and well-off as me couldn’t possibly be a victim of the silent treatment?”
She expected Wen Wanbing to react the way others did.
But Wen Wanbing’s frown deepened. She adopted her mature, serious persona. “Should it be ‘not surprising’ if the victim is less attractive or less well-off? Why would anyone say that and inflict secondary trauma on a victim? Shouldn’t the one being condemned be the perpetrator? Shouldn’t the real surprise be how a relationship between two people can become so pathological…?”
Wen Wanbing’s throat moved as she swallowed hard. She closed her eyes and took an imperceptible deep breath to steady her emotions. “Sorry, I—”
“What are you sorry for?” Fu Junxue placed both hands on Wen Wanbing’s warm cheeks. She gave them a little squeeze, pushing toward the center until Wen Wanbing’s soft lips were forced into a pout.
The pouting lips moved slightly as she explained seriously, “Sorry, I lost control of my emotions for a moment.”
“Haha, so cute. I meant you don’t need to be sorry; I wasn’t actually asking why you were apologizing.” Fu Junxue’s gaze and movements froze. The smile on her lips faded subtly and slowly. Her long lashes flickered. “I actually didn’t want you to react that way, either. It would make me feel like the version of me that went through that was just uninspired.”
“Besides, I like it when you lose control. You’re not so stiff. You’re very vivid.”
The sound of the wind seemed to stop in that instant. The air felt stagnant and hot. Her face was already burning, and even more heat from Fu Junxue’s palms seeped steadily into her skin and blood. Under that focused gaze, the temperature rose until it felt like she was about to boil.
The little mole resting quietly on the tip of Fu Junxue’s nose was charming and gentle.
Subconsciously, Wen Wanbing wanted to pull away, but her body felt rooted to the spot. Her lashes fluttered repeatedly as she felt Fu Junxue’s hands move slowly from her cheeks to her neck, and finally come to rest on her chest.
“Wen Zhui-zhui,” Fu Junxue called her name. Her voice was very low, almost effortless, the words feeling sticky as they left her lips. “I like you like this. I can see that inside here, there is a wonderful soul… one that seems to resonate with my own.”
Wen Wanbing’s lashes trembled.
She almost began to hallucinate. It was as if she were standing on a deck in the middle of the ocean, locked in a lingering gaze with a seductive siren, hovering on the edge of sinking into the deep sea.
Fu Junxue changed the question: “When you lost control just now, what were you thinking of?”