Red Mark

Bai Qingxue had just finished speaking, but Lu Xueqing did not move.

However, her knuckles tightened as her hands gripped the armrests on either side of Bai Qingxue’s chair.

Moonlight filtered through the branches of the old plum tree, falling upon Bai Qingxue’s upturned face.

Those pale eyes looked at Lu Xueqing, as calm as the waters of a cold pond.

Lu Xueqing looked at her for a long time.

Long enough for her arms to begin to tremble, long enough for her to think this was yet another one-man show, long enough that she almost let go, retreated, and pretended nothing had happened.

She lowered her head.

Lu Xueqing turned her head to the side, pressing her face against Bai Qingxue’s cheek.

It was cool and soft, like a flake of snow landing on her skin.

She did not move, simply staying pressed there, letting her body heat transfer bit by bit. It was just as she had pressed her unrequited longing into the tea infusion every time she refilled it over the past seven years, waiting for Bai Qingxue to pick it up and drink it down, sip by sip.

Bai Qingxue did not move.

Her hands still hung at her sides, her fingertips resting on the edge of the stone stool.

Lu Xueqing’s face slid from Bai Qingxue’s cheek to the side of her ear, the tip of her nose brushing against her auricle, her lips grazing her temple.

The movement was very slow, as if she were confirming the texture of every inch of skin, or perhaps giving Bai Qingxue enough time to push her away.

Bai Qingxue did not push her away.

Lu Xueqing buried her face in the hollow of Bai Qingxue’s neck. Her lips pressed against the side of her neck, against her cool skin, against the area just above her collarbone that was obscured by silver-white wisps of hair.

The skin there was very thin—so thin that the fine blue veins beneath were visible, like streams under a layer of ice.

Lu Xueqing pressed her lips against that patch of skin, like someone who had stood in the snow for too long and finally found a place to lean.

Bai Qingxue’s shoulders tensed slightly.

Just like every other time she had been touched before, it was a reaction of the body preceding the mind.

But this time, that tension lasted only for a single breath before slowly relaxing.

It wasn’t “acceptance,” but “indulgence.”

Just as she had indulged Xiao Nanyuan in Nanhuai—allowing her to hug her, allowing her to soak her robes with tears, and allowing her to take that half-step forward as she was about to leave.

She would not take the initiative to do anything.

But when those she was willing to be close to approached, she would not push them away either.

Lu Xueqing naturally felt that subtle, almost imperceptible loosening.

“During your seven years in Nanhuai,” Lu Xueqing’s voice was muffled against the hollow of Bai Qingxue’s neck, her lips still pressed to that skin. The slight friction of her speaking made her voice tremble.

“I came to this courtyard every day. I would sit for a while and brew a pot of tea, waiting for you to return.”

Bai Qingxue did not speak.

Lu Xueqing’s fingers gripped the fabric on Bai Qingxue’s back, using as much force as she had when she hugged her after the finals seven years ago.

But this time, she did not let go.

“Do you know what I was thinking every time I refilled the tea?”

Bai Qingxue’s hand, which had been hanging at her side, rose.

Her fingertips touched Lu Xueqing’s waist. Through the layer of clothing, the coolness seeped in. It was very light, as if she were confirming that Lu Xueqing was still there, or perhaps confirming her own existence.

Lu Xueqing’s breath hitched for a beat.

She could feel those fingertips pressed against the soft flesh of her waist.

“I was thinking,” Lu Xueqing buried her face deeper into the hollow of Bai Qingxue’s neck, her lips against that skin as she spoke each word clearly, “if you were never coming back.”

Lu Xueqing’s voice was very soft, so soft it sounded as if she were speaking of something she no longer cared about.

Then, Lu Xueqing lifted her face from the hollow of Bai Qingxue’s neck and looked at her.

Lu Xueqing’s gaze fell upon the side of Bai Qingxue’s neck, on the patch of skin she had been pressed against for so long.

The silver-white wisps of hair were blown aside slightly by her breath, revealing a small patch of fair skin and the faint blue vein above the collarbone.

She reached out.

Her fingertips touched the side of Bai Qingxue’s neck, sliding from behind the ear to the collarbone. Her finger pads pressed against the skin lightly, as if tracing a painting she was loath to soil.

Then she lowered her head and kissed it.

Just like that, Lu Xueqing’s lips pressed against the thinnest part of the skin on the side of the neck, feeling the pulse beneath.

One, two, three beats.

Bai Qingxue’s heart was beating slightly faster than usual.

Only slightly—so slightly that she herself might not have noticed.

But Lu Xueqing felt it through her lips, through the skin, through that thin layer of flesh.

She felt Bai Qingxue’s pulse accelerating, turning from a deep pond into a stream, from stillness into flow.

She did not stop.

Her lips moved from the side of the neck to just above the collarbone, and then to the side of that ice-blue pendant.

Lu Xueqing’s lips paused beside the pendant for a moment.

But it was only for a moment; Lu Xueqing continued to kiss downward.

This time, the kiss was heavier than before. Her lips parted slightly as she took a bit of that skin and sucked gently.

It was as if she were saying: You have someone else’s thing on you, but this place is mine.

Bai Qingxue’s body tensed slightly.

This time it was more obvious than any time before. She felt the skin on the side of her neck grow burning hot under Lu Xueqing’s lips, forming a sharp contrast with her cool body temperature.

That heat seeped through her skin, traveling up her blood vessels to the base of her ears and onto her expressionless face.

Bai Qingxue’s fingers tightened slightly on Lu Xueqing’s back.

Lu Xueqing lifted her head, looking at the side of Bai Qingxue’s neck.

Under the moonlight, a small red mark had appeared on that fair skin, like a red plum blossom petal fallen upon the snow, or a stream flowing under the moon.

The sensation of that skin still lingered on her lips—cool, soft, and carrying a faint, cold fragrance.

It was the same taste as the red mark she had left seven years ago while Junior Sister Bai was unconscious.

But this time, her junior sister was awake. This time, her junior sister knew. This time, Bai Qingxue was watching.

Lu Xueqing buried her face back into the hollow of Bai Qingxue’s neck, her lips against that red mark as she spoke softly.

“Junior Sister Bai.”

“En.”

“Next time you leave,” she paused, her voice dropping so low it was as if she were speaking only to that red mark, “take me with you.”

Bai Qingxue’s hand moved from Lu Xueqing’s back to the back of her head, her fingertips sliding through her hair and pressing against her scalp.

The coolness seeped in, colliding with Lu Xueqing’s burning body temperature and transforming into something else.

It was indefinable. But neither of them moved.

A long time passed—long enough for the moonlight to move from one end of the stone table to the other, long enough for the shadow of the old plum tree to shift from the left to the right.

Bai Qingxue spoke. Her voice was very soft, carrying something more than usual.

“En.”

Lu Xueqing closed her eyes. Bai Qingxue’s fingertips were still pressed against the back of her head—cool, yet they did not pull away.

The leaves of the old plum tree continued to fall. Silver-white leaves drifted down one by one, landing on their shoulders, in their hair, and in the space between them that was less than a fist's width apart.

Neither of them retreated.