After Becoming a Spare Tire, I Got Together with My White Moonlight - Chapter 38.2

That was from her childhood in what felt like a past life.

Gazing at the lanterns, Yan Guiqiu felt a sense of disorientation. Those memories were so distant she had thought they were buried deep, never to resurface.

But she remembered them now.

Back then, she lived with her mother in a manor villa, in what was essentially a state of semi-house arrest, though she was completely unaware of it. To her, it was a place of boundless freedom where she could run wild across the hills and fields.

During New Year activities at the nearby elementary school, there was an option to fly Kongming lanterns. At night, several glowing lights would rise from the playground into the sky, gradually shrinking until they vanished, a sight both majestic and romantic.

After secretly observing the teachers’ methods, she pestered her mother to make one. Her mother set aside her tasks, spread a stack of paper on the floor, and together they tried their hand at crafting a lantern.

Back then, her younger brother was still very small, just two or three years old. He had been born there and had just learned to walk, trailing behind her with a wide grin as he caused mischief.

She hadn’t been drawing with her brush on paper for long before her brother stepped on the inkstone, spilling ink everywhere. Annoyed, she turned her head, only to see his face smeared black. She couldn’t help but laugh, and soon she was off to the side, roughhousing with him.

In the end, only their mother was diligently making Kongming lanterns. On the paper, she wrote a few lines in beautiful regular script, clear enough for a child to understand.

One line read, “May Minghuan be joyful and carefree.”

Another said, “May Mingyan be safe and sound all his life.”

At that time, Yan Guiqiu was still called “Minghuan.”

Back then, her mother affectionately called her “Huanhuan,” not the distant “Minghuan” that came later, nor the cold and rigid “President Ming.”

As dusk fell, their mother brought them to the courtyard. Though afraid of fire herself, she still told the children to stand aside. Holding a lantern in one hand, she trembled slightly as she lit it with the other.

All three lanterns were successful. As the flames slowly grew, they lifted the paper walls, carrying them up into the sky.

The two lines of text on the lanterns remained facing Minghuan and her brother.

They only had to look up to see them.

In the end, the flames consumed the paper walls, allowing the two lines of text to make a slow exit.

At the time, they believed the burning was a joyous event, signifying that their wishes had been heard by the heavens.

Looking back later, it might not have been without ominous foreshadowing.

But back then, who could have known that the bond of family, forged through mutual support, would not withstand the test of self-interest?

Sharing joys and sorrows.

Yet, they only managed the latter part.

Even now, when Yan Guiqiu recalls those memories, she can’t help but wonder did she, too, ask for too much, gradually wearing away those precious things from the past?

When neither side yields, the outcome can only be tragic.

Rather than that, it was better for her to take a step back first.

But a faint voice in her heart whispered that the earliest things weren’t given up by her either.

There had been people who loved her selflessly.

There had been people who told her that acting spoiled and crying were her rightful privileges.

It was only later that they were gone.

Like the once ubiquitous lanterns, they vanished into the long, dark night.

Jiang Xuehe squeezed Yan Guiqiu’s palm, feeling how cold it was.

She pressed her entire hand against it, slowly transferring her warmth.

Yan Guiqiu snapped out of her reverie and managed a smile, continuing the story about releasing lanterns at school when she was young: “Later, one of them landed on a rooftop and set fire to a bedsheet someone had hung out to dry. It nearly caused a fire, so they banned lanterns after that.”

Jiang Xuehe agreed, “Safety first.”

“Right,” Yan Guiqiu said. “But sometimes I still feel quite fortunate to have seen them at least once.”

Jiang Xuehe replied, “Floating river lanterns are the same.”

Yan Guiqiu chatted idly, “But releasing too many river lanterns probably isn’t very eco-friendly.”

Jiang Xuehe guessed, “They probably collect them all downstream.”

Yan Guiqiu: “…”

Yan Guiqiu: “That just takes all the fun out of it.”

Jiang Xuehe glanced at her and smiled faintly. “Weren’t you the one who started it?”

Yan Guiqiu sheepishly rubbed her nose and fell silent.

They didn’t enter any more shops and soon reached the riverbank after a short walk. There were fewer lanterns hung along the river, making the area appear dimmer. However, the water’s surface was already dotted with colorful little floating lanterns, shimmering like stars in the night sky, drifting gently and standing out vividly.

Under the few streetlights along the river, vendors selling river lanterns were set up at regular intervals.

You could write wishes to tuck inside, but there was no writing service available here paper and pens had to be purchased separately. The vendors were responsible for inserting the wishes and releasing the lanterns, and aside from the moment of choosing a lantern, customers weren’t allowed to touch them at all.

Outside the railings along the riverbank, an additional protective net had been installed, adorned with small lights and warning signs to prevent anyone from sneaking onto the docks and accidentally falling into the water.

Although they couldn’t handle the lanterns themselves, most people were just there for the auspicious gesture. After some haggling, they’d give up and settle down to write their wishes on small slips of paper, leaning over various spots.

There was no limit to the number of lanterns one could buy. Yan Guiqiu, rarely so extravagant in front of Jiang Xuehe, boldly asked for five slips of paper.

She counted on her fingers: her parents, her younger sister, Jiang Xuehe, and a few friends. Song Anchen and A Luan were just drifting through life, so she could write “peace and happiness” for them together. Gu Yuyin, being more ambitious, deserved a wish for a “shining starry career.”

Though the list seemed long, the actual writing amounted to just a few words, but it was the thought that counted.

Jiang Xuehe’s wish was a separate matter.

She only had one slip, but it took her longer to write than Yan Guiqiu’s five.

Yan Guiqiu took a photo of her five slips, neatly folded them, and as she passed behind Jiang Xuehe on her way back to the vendor, she caught a glimpse of Jiang Xuehe still writing. Her eyes unconsciously drifted over.

No wonder I like her so much, she thought. Even the way she leans over the flowerbed to write a wish looks so graceful.

As Yan Guiqiu was mentally preening, Jiang Xuehe turned to look at her and asked, “Finished writing?”

“Yeah.” The sudden eye contact made Yan Guiqiu feel inexplicably guilty.

Jiang Xuehe’s gaze dropped slightly.

“I didn’t mean to peek!” Yan Guiqiu misunderstood and quickly defended herself. “And I didn’t even see.”

Before she could finish, Jiang Xuehe picked up her completed slip and held it out for Yan Guiqiu to see, indicating she was free to look.

A short message, written densely on the small slip.

“Jiang Xuehe will always like Yan Guiqiu.”

“Yan Guiqiu will also always like Jiang Xuehe.”

Each stroke was written carefully, and despite the tiny space, a hint of calligraphic flair was visible.

Yan Guiqiu was momentarily reminded of the two lines on the Kongming lantern.

Then she recalled that she had been the one to say those words earlier.

Jiang Xuehe reached out and took her hand, tapping her palm lightly before interlacing their fingers.

Yan Guiqiu thought she wanted help standing up.

But once Jiang Xuehe was on her feet, she pulled firmly. Caught off guard, Yan Guiqiu stumbled forward.

She collided right into Jiang Xuehe’s embrace.

They were behind a shrub-lined greenbelt, where the decorative lights seemed to be broken. Only two streetlights stood a few meters apart, casting dim light around the flowerbed. No one was passing by, and no one noticed them there.

Earlier, Yan Guiqiu had wanted to suggest Jiang Xuehe move to a better-lit spot to avoid straining her eyes while writing. But now, she began to understand why Jiang Xuehe had chosen this particular place.

The paper filled with the word “like” was casually tucked between their clasped palms, and Jiang Xuehe didn’t seem to mind it much. Before Yan Guiqiu could gather her thoughts, she leaned in and kissed her.

Yan Guiqiu’s mind exploded with a “bang,” more colorful than the lanterns on the river.

Unlike the tentative pecks before or the slow, lingering kisses, Jiang Xuehe’s approach was urgent. Yan Guiqiu felt a bite on her lips, her mind still spinning. As she met Jiang Xuehe’s gaze up close, it suddenly dawned on her.

She did it on purpose.

Jiang Xuehe’s eyes sparkled with mischief and a hint of pride.

Yan Guiqiu suddenly felt her brain short-circuiting, as if starved for oxygen.

It wasn’t just the breathlessness from the kiss.

She guessed her face was redder than those lanterns by now.

Yan Guiqiu felt as if she had turned into a soft, fluffy ball of cotton, unable to muster even a hint of resistance. Though her rational mind reminded her that just beyond the small shrub was the brightly lit riverbank, bustling with people and lively chatter.

Yet, it was precisely that clamorous liveliness and that passionate kiss that abruptly pulled her back into the world.

When Jiang Xuehe pulled away, Yan Guiqiu instinctively touched her bitten lower lip and couldn’t help but hiss softly.

Clearly, Jiang Xuehe hadn’t held back at all.

But Yan Guiqiu felt no anger only a vague sense of loss at the end of the kiss.

Now, her attention was entirely fixed on that kiss and Jiang Xuehe.

Even the little note and the river lanterns were forgotten.

“I…” Yan Guiqiu started, only to find her voice hoarse. Startled, she immediately forgot what she had meant to say.

Jiang Xuehe leaned close, cupping her face and brushing her lips against Yan Guiqiu’s cheek.

Usually gentle and polite, her movements now carried a hint of assertiveness.

Yan Guiqiu couldn’t look away not that she had any desire to focus elsewhere.

“Have I not made it obvious enough in my usual behavior?” Jiang Xuehe’s voice was slightly deeper than usual.

“What?” Yan Guiqiu was still distracted, thinking about her kiss.

“The fact that I also like you really, really, really like you,” Jiang Xuehe said.

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