The gate to the courtyard stood open.
Lu Xueqing had not closed it when she left, and Bai Qingxue made no move to close it now.
Moonlight spilled in through the doorway, a cool, bluish-white glow.
The leaves of the old plum tree were still falling, landing on the stone table, into the cold tea cups, and onto the back of her hand resting at her side. She did not brush them away.
Bai Qingxue sat on the stone stool, unmoving.
She was pondering a question.
Why not?
Why didn't she take the initiative?
In her past life, Bai Qingxue was a man.
An ordinary man with a low presence.
This was something Bai Qingxue had not thought about for a long time.
After living in this world for ten years, the fact that she was once a man had become increasingly unimportant.
Her body was that of a woman, her voice was that of a woman, and even her body’s instinctive reactions when touched were those of a woman.
She didn't need to “learn how to be a woman”; living in this body, she naturally was one.
But some things remained in her consciousness.
Bai Qingxue couldn't quite explain what they were.
If she had to put a name to it, it was a vague sensation.
For instance, she would not get close to men.
It wasn't exactly hatred or repulsion.
In her past life, she had lived for over twenty years, and men were always coming and going around her.
Colleagues, roommates, passersby. She had eaten with them, worked overtime with them, and squeezed onto the subway with them.
But she would never be “close” to them, much less want to touch them.
Yet it seemed different with women.
When Ye Qingyao leaned in, she didn't dodge.
When Lu Xueqing hugged her, she didn't push her away.
When Xiao Nanyuan buried her face in the hollow of her shoulder, she had even raised her hand and placed it on the child's back.
To put it simply, the proximity of a woman didn't make her feel that something was “wrong.”
Bai Qingxue couldn't describe what that “wrongness” was. But if a man were to treat her that way, she would likely feel like vomiting.
It was as if something inside her was saying: No. Not like this. It shouldn't be like this.
She didn't know what that “something” was.
Perhaps it was a memory from her past life, perhaps it was just the instinct of this body, or perhaps it was both. Bai Qingxue couldn't tell.
She only knew that she would not take the initiative to walk toward a man, nor would she allow a man to take the initiative toward her.
But why was she unable to refuse women?
Perhaps because refusing required strength.
Refusing required saying, “I don't want this.”
But Bai Qingxue couldn't say it, because she didn't even know what she wanted.
So she remained silent. So she accepted. So every time someone approached her, she stood there, motionless.
She had not yet learned how to “call for a stop.”
Tonight, Lu Xueqing had asked.
“Do you know why I stopped?”
“Because you won’t refuse anyone.”
Bai Qingxue’s fingers curled slightly.
Yes. She wouldn't. She wouldn't refuse anything handed to her, nor would she refuse any warmth that drew near. She accepted whoever came and didn't hold back whoever left.
But.
Was her feeling toward Lu Xueqing truly just an “inability to refuse”?
If it had been Ye Qingyao leaving a mark on the side of her neck, would she have dodged? Bai Qingxue thought about it and realized she didn't know.
She had never considered the question because she had never let Ye Qingyao get that close.
It wasn't that she deliberately maintained a distance; it was that Ye Qingyao herself had never approached that closely.
Ye Qingyao would hug her, bury her face in her shoulder, and clutch her sleeve without letting go.
But Ye Qingyao would never kiss the side of her neck, nor would she leave a mark on her skin.
Was it because Ye Qingyao didn't want to? Bai Qingxue didn't know. She only knew that Lu Xueqing had wanted to, and she had done it.
And she had not dodged.
When this thought surfaced, Bai Qingxue’s breath hitched for a moment.
Yes, she hadn't dodged.
Her body seemed more honest than her consciousness.
When Lu Xueqing’s lips pressed against her, her body didn't make any move to evade; she had only tilted her head slightly, exposing that side of her neck.
In truth, that movement wasn't much.
But Bai Qingxue couldn't lie to herself.
That was indulgence.
Why did she indulge Lu Xueqing?
Bai Qingxue held this question on the tip of her tongue, savoring it for a long time.
Lu Xueqing was different.
She had been different from very early on.
Exactly when it started, she couldn't say.
Perhaps it began with that phrase “watching the water” by the cold pond, perhaps from the hug after the finals, or perhaps from one of those days when Lu Xueqing would sit under the old plum tree with a pot of tea every evening, waiting for her to return.
She couldn't tell.
She only knew that Lu Xueqing’s proximity didn't make her want to retreat.
Not only did she not want to retreat, she even wanted her to continue.
When this thought first surfaced tonight, she thought it was “wanting.”
But now, as she sat here with the cool moonlight draped over her, she slowly realized the truth.
That wasn't “wanting.”
It was something more vague, more uncertain.
She didn't dislike Lu Xueqing’s proximity. She didn't dislike her hugs, her kisses, or the marks she left behind.
Even if Lu Xueqing had continued, she wouldn't have called for a stop.
But “not calling for a stop” was not the same as “wanting.”
What did “wanting” feel like? Bai Qingxue didn't know.
She had never “wanted” anyone. Not in her past life, and not in this one.
She only had “not disliking,” “not refusing,” and “not pushing away.”
These words starting with “not” were her only way of connecting with this world.
She suddenly remembered something.
What was her relationship with Lu Xueqing?
Senior and junior sisters?
They had been that since the first day. Lu Xueqing was the senior sister, and she was the junior sister. Lu Xueqing took care of her, and she accepted that care. Lu Xueqing brewed tea, and she drank it. Lu Xueqing hugged her, and she didn't push her away.
Were those the things senior and junior sisters were supposed to do?
Perhaps, but most likely not.
The way Lu Xueqing looked at her was different from the way Shen Yao looked at her own senior sister.
She had noticed that difference long ago. When Lu Xueqing said she was “watching the water” by the cold pond, and when she said “please forgive me” under the old plum tree. She knew.
But Bai Qingxue had never pointed it out.
It wasn't that she didn't want to; it was that she was afraid.
Afraid that if it were spoken aloud and Lu Xueqing said “yes,” she would have to respond.
Yet Bai Qingxue didn't know how to respond.
So she pretended not to know.
So she indulged her.
But having indulged her to this point, could she still pretend not to know?
When Lu Xueqing’s lips were pressed against her neck, she had felt the scorching heat of that patch of skin.
When Lu Xueqing sucked, she had felt a momentary sting, followed by a strange, indefinable satisfaction.
Her body knew.
Her body knew much earlier than her consciousness.
Her feelings for Lu Xueqing were different from those she had for others.
But was being “different” the same as liking?
Bai Qingxue didn't know.
What did liking feel like? She had never experienced it. Not in her past life, and not in this one. She didn't even have a reference for “liking,” so how could she know if she liked her?
She only knew that she didn't dislike Lu Xueqing. She didn't dislike her daily visits, the tea she brewed, or the way she sat opposite her in silence. She didn't dislike her hugs, her kisses, or the red mark she had left behind.
But did she have the “impulse to reach out her hand” to Lu Xueqing?
Bai Qingxue lowered her head and looked at her hands.
No.
If she did, she would have reached out long ago.
On some late night in Nanhuai, when the jade talisman lit up, she would have infused her spiritual power into it.
But she hadn't. For seven years, not once.
She had adapted to life without Lu Xueqing.
Did that count as “missing” someone? If she truly “missed” her, she wouldn't have adapted.
So it wasn't “liking.”
At least not yet.
But she didn't dislike her either.
Bai Qingxue leaned back against the chair, tilting her head up to look at the old plum tree above.
The silver-white leaves glinted coldly in the moonlight, one by one, like countless eyes watching her.
Her feelings for Lu Xueqing were stuck somewhere between “not disliking” and “liking.”
She couldn't put a name to it.
Bai Qingxue didn't know.
She had lived two lives and had never known what “liking” felt like.
She only knew “not disliking,” “not refusing,” and “not pushing away.”
These “not” words were her shell. She had stayed inside that shell for too long—so long that she had forgotten what the world outside looked like.
But tonight, Lu Xueqing had tapped a crack into that shell. Through that crack, she saw a glimmer of light from the outside.
That light was very weak and very far away, so much so that Bai Qingxue wasn't sure if it was what she wanted.
But in the end, Bai Qingxue did not plug the crack.
Bai Qingxue stood up, walked to the courtyard gate, and leaned against the doorframe.
Moonlight flooded in from outside, falling on her face and on the red mark on her neck, which had already begun to fade.
She looked at the path. The stone steps were long, leading toward Lu Xueqing’s courtyard.
She had walked it countless times. Every time, Lu Xueqing had walked in front, and she had followed behind. She had never been the one to walk in front.
Bai Qingxue watched for a long time.
Long enough for the moon to move out from behind the clouds and back in again.
In the end, Bai Qingxue still did not walk out.
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