GV – Chapter 102

How to describe Song Zhiqing’s girlhood?

It was a period of exceptionally thick, cloying darkness.

She was powerless, and she admitted it.

She lacked the ability to send Song Chen to the hell he deserved through proper or grand means. In mathematics, she was forever average. She could understand it, and with great effort, she could reach the upper-middle tier.

But she wasn’t gifted, and she didn’t like it.

Therefore, she couldn’t snatch away the business Song Chen had built by bleeding her mother dry by becoming some kind of business elite herself.

Of course, she could also scheme and resort to devious means. High society was never short of people more vicious, cruel, and cold-blooded than Song Chen. She could cooperate with them, using the old tricks of honeyed words and betrayal against him. If that didn’t work, she could add a marriage alliance to the mix. There would always be a way—as long as she became even more disgusting than he was.

But still, she couldn’t do it.

Song Chen had obtained everything he had today by sacrificing his lover. If she wanted to defeat him, would she not only have to sacrifice herself but also another person just like her mother?

The mere thought of these things disgusted her.

Moreover, she was constantly shrouded in the shadow of her mother’s death. Just concealing the traces of her nightly nightmares consumed all the energy she had for pretense.

However, if she lowered her sights, changing her goal from victory to mere defeat, things became much easier.

As long as she gave up the possibility of humiliating Song Chen from the posture of a victor and instead focused on dragging him into the abyss of failure, she wouldn’t have to do too many disgusting things.

As for the consequences she would have to bear… ah, in the end, she truly didn’t feel she had anything she couldn’t afford to lose.

Fortunately, she found a way.

All she had to do was be a spendthrift daughter.

The kind of tactless spendthrift who specifically provoked people she couldn’t afford to offend.

That way, someone she couldn’t afford to offend would eventually uproot both her and the Song Chen behind her.

This was her.

The real her.

Not the Moon Goddess of War in Ye Yuhuan’s eyes, but just a decadent, dejected, and sorrowful person.

She had never even noticed that a star had altered its course for her. And this star, due to its stellar instincts, knew that this seemingly cold and tranquil moon would always have one half in a dark side not directly illuminated by the sun. So, it came to her dark side and lit her up.

For Ye Yuhuan, this might have been just a gift, but for Song Zhiqing, it was an immense reward—so immense that she would do anything within her power to repay it.

And that did not include her love.

Because her love had already been taken by Ye Yuhuan in that dream, and a person cannot give away something that has already been given.

Song Zhiqing sat in the study, writing a letter as she reminisced. The letter was for her grandmother, who was far away in America.

Due to health reasons, her grandmother had been sent abroad for treatment by Gao Yiren early on, thus escaping all the malicious attacks. To this day, she still believed her daughter had committed suicide due to depression from career setbacks, and that her son-in-law had been sued and sent to prison by a rival due to poor management.

As for her only granddaughter, it was understandable that she would have some psychological issues after everything she had been through. During the years Song Zhiqing was in a coma, her grandmother had tried multiple times to have her transferred overseas for care but was unable to do so due to a lack of the necessary paperwork. After Song Zhiqing woke up, she also urged her to leave this place of sorrow.

But she wouldn’t leave. Instead, as if to torture herself, she remained in this city for three years.

Just as her grandmother was unaware of the grudges within the Song family, she was even more oblivious to the entanglement between Song Zhiqing and Ye Yuhuan. Thus, she could only send gifts to relatives on the Song family’s side during holidays, hoping they would take good care of her.

At that time, even Song Zhiqing herself didn’t know if the person “Song Zhiqing” truly existed. In her rational moments, she would attribute the existence of “Song Zhiqing” to a fantasy meticulously woven from technology and psychological knowledge. Only occasionally, when startled awake from a dream late at night, or when opening her eyes in the brief moments of lucidity during an alcohol-induced stupor, would she subconsciously call out the three words “Song Zhiqing,” as if it were no longer her name.

Song Zhiqing rarely spoke of these things, especially in front of Ye Yuhuan. But Ye Yuhuan, being an overly professional psychologist, always had a way to pick the lock on the cabinet called secrets.

And then, she would cry.

Without saying anything.

Just crying.

There was little guilt or remorse in her tears, because she was smart enough and clear-headed enough to know that even if she could do it all over again, she would make the same choice. She couldn’t be certain who Song Zhiqing’s love was directed at—was it the love and care for Ye Yuhuan that belonged to the soul of “Song Zhiqing,” or was it the deliberately fabricated body and personality? And that was already enough to constitute a relatively complete person.

Even now, she couldn’t be sure if the love that burst forth from Song Zhiqing stemmed from her finally peeling away the veil over her own soul, or if her craving for warmth made her unable to resist prostrating herself before any light.

But Ye Yuhuan wouldn’t delve into these things, because she was smart enough and clear-headed enough to know that while she couldn’t be certain about others, she could be certain about herself. She loved her.

Her tears also showed that she loved her.

Her heart ached for the tribulations fate had dealt Song Zhiqing, making her go through so many twists and pains just to obtain a happiness that wasn’t even perfect.

And now, Song Zhiqing was writing to her grandmother, telling her that she would bring her lover to see her soon. For special reasons, the two of them did not plan to get married—but this was absolutely not due to any issues with their feelings.

She liked the word “lover” much more than “wife.” In her eyes, the institution of marriage had not left a very good impression. The blows from her parents and the dream were enough to make her shy away from any beautiful fantasies about marriage. But she liked the word “lover,” because it meant that what connected her and Ye Yuhuan wasn’t responsibility, obligation, or other such external things, but love. It gave one the feeling that as long as they were alive, as long as they kept breathing and their hearts kept beating, they would belong completely to each other, without any gaps or shadows, so intimately as if they were meant to be this way from the moment they were born.

Song Zhiqing finished the letter and hit send.

Then she stretched, opened another document on her computer, and began writing the script for her next movie.

She wrote from when the sky was bright until it grew dim. The magnificent glow of dusk swarmed in through the gap in the curtains. Song Zhiqing squinted, stood up, and widened the gap, then widened it again.

Until the entire sky was displayed before her without obstruction.

Today’s dusk was a pinkish-purple. So beautiful.

A smile appeared on Song Zhiqing’s face, and she quietly waited for the colors to fade into silence. Eventually, the sky was like a pile of burnt-out embers, its reluctant warmth covered by the more clamorous lights of the city.

Song Zhiqing glanced at the time. It was about when Ye Yuhuan should be getting off work.

And about when the soup should be ready.

Ye Yuhuan had only spoken her thoughts on that dream once, during her initial confession. She had said that “Song Zhiqing” wasn’t her, but a character she had deliberately created to get close to “Ye Yuhuan.”

She never brought it up again after that.

But Song Zhiqing knew she still hadn’t let go of that idea.

Song Zhiqing, however, didn’t see it that way. Although in reality, there were many differences between Ye Yuhuan and “Song Zhiqing”—for example, Ye Yuhuan was reserved and gentle, while “Song Zhiqing” was lively and cheerful; Ye Yuhuan was clumsy, while “Song Zhiqing” could sing and dance like a pro, even reaching the level of a big star.

However, their cooking skills were identical.

Perhaps the body doesn’t lie, or perhaps “Song Zhiqing” wasn’t as fake as Ye Yuhuan believed.

In any case, “Song Zhiqing’s” cooking was a disaster, and Ye Yuhuan’s cooking was an equal disaster.

And Song Zhiqing, just as in the dream, performed at a high level, to the point that in the days after they moved in together, Ye Yuhuan nearly grew a double chin. Of course, this was also one of that scoundrel Song Zhiqing’s malicious intentions.

If Ye Yuhuan got fat enough to have a double chin…

Then… she could pinch it.

Miss Ye Yuhuan saw through her and, with great resolve, bought a gym membership.

Although she rarely went, it at least proved her determination. Thus, the double chin crisis was temporarily averted, and Song Zhiqing, full of loving pity, switched her daily loving feedings to healthier, non-fattening types of food.

And so, Ye Yuhuan’s gym membership card gathered dust.

Song Zhiqing ladled out the yan du xian from the pot and tasted a little. The flavor was just right, probably to the degree that would make Ye Yuhuan complain about getting fat again while asking for another serving of rice.

She stir-fried two more vegetable dishes. While she was cleaning up the kitchen, Ye Yuhuan came home from work.

Ye Yuhuan smelled the aroma from the entryway. It was exactly the kind of smell a blogger in a short video she’d watched a couple of days ago had described.

She had a feeling of “I knew it,” yet at the same time, it felt unreal.

Was this what being with Song Zhiqing was really like?

It was too calm and peaceful, completely at odds with the powerful inner energy Song Zhiqing herself displayed.

Ye Yuhuan took off her coat and changed into a matching pair of house slippers. She didn’t sit down right away, nor did she go into the kitchen to help.

She crossed her arms and stood not far from Song Zhiqing, watching her quietly. This person was still breathtakingly beautiful. Even at a mature age, with the faint beginnings of fine lines at the corners of her eyes, she was still beautiful. Even holding a plate, she gave the plate in her hands the quality of a work of art.

Song Zhiqing turned her head and called for Ye Yuhuan to come get the rice.

But before getting the rice, they shared a kiss first.

Perhaps Song Zhiqing hadn’t called Ye Yuhuan over to get rice in the first place.

“I feel like you really want to fatten me up,” Ye Yuhuan mumbled.

Song Zhiqing didn’t answer directly. Instead, she kissed her cheek again and said, “Not at all. It’s because eating delicious food makes you happy.”

Ye Yuhuan glanced at her, turned to get the rice, and said with a smile, “Alright, but why can’t you get fat no matter how much you eat?”

Thinking about it, Ye Yuhuan grew even more puzzled. “You clearly don’t eat any less than I do. It’s one thing not to gain weight, but how is it possible you still have abs?”

“Is it your constitution?”

Song Zhiqing took the bowl from Ye Yuhuan’s hands, cleared her throat, and said leisurely, “Well, is it possible that I work out every day?”

Ye Yuhuan: “…”

“I want to go too.”

“But you’re so busy with work.”

“I want to go.”

“Really? Should I wake you up at five tomorrow morning, then?”

“Huh? You wake up that early every day to work out? I thought you were going to buy groceries?”

Song Zhiqing took Ye Yuhuan’s hand, and the two of them ambled stickily toward the dining table, chatting about simple things. “I was at first, but this month I noticed my abs were gone, so I started working out in the morning too.”

“Too?” Ye Yuhuan caught the key word.

“When you’re not home, I go to the gym when I get tired of writing my script.”

“Song Zhiqing, do you really have to be like this?”

“Eh? Like what? Isn’t my good figure a perk for you?”

Ye Yuhuan was stumped. Then she replied vaguely, “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t mean your behavior of secretly working out is completely without fault!”

“Oh. So, are we waking up at five tomorrow morning?” Song Zhiqing asked with a smile.

“…”

Ye Yuhuan chose to eat.

She even had two bowls.

After dinner, Song Zhiqing talked to Ye Yuhuan about going to America to see her grandmother in a while. Ye Yuhuan had heard about this grandmother of Song Zhiqing’s before. The previous doctor had mentioned her during the treatment, saying she was an elderly woman in poor health but very kind.

“Sure, I happen to have some annual leave I haven’t used. We can go to America and celebrate the Dragon Boat Festival with your grandmother.”

“Mhm, that’s what I was thinking. Grandma loves organizing things like that.”

“…I’ve decided. I’m going to work out with you tomorrow morning.”

“???” Song Zhiqing stopped rubbing Ye Yuhuan’s stomach—yes, Ye Yuhuan had eaten too much. “Why?”

Ye Yuhuan looked down at her own little belly, then touched Song Zhiqing’s V-line abs, and said wistfully, “I don’t want it to look like I’m the rich one when we’re walking together.”

Song Zhiqing burst out laughing. The two of them had been sitting on the sofa watching a documentary. Song Zhiqing leaned over slightly, her hands slowly moving from their original position to other places.

She said, “But haven’t I always been the one who craves you more?”

As she spoke, a soft gasp escaped Ye Yuhuan’s throat.

Song Zhiqing raised her eyes to look at the woman’s flushed face, her peach-blossom eyes curving. “If you craved me more, now that would be more like what a sugar mommy should do.”

Ye Yuhuan was in no mood for any sugar mommy play with her.

In fact, she was in no mood for anything right now.

She just thought, here we go again.

This scoundrel, Song Zhiqing.

She really did crave her more.

So annoying.

So strange.

But she liked it so much.