After Cannon Fodder A Accidentally Marked the Cold Film Queen - Chapter 67

A crack had been left open in the window, and the wind traced its way through that sliver, tugging at the edge of the curtains. The thin gauze trembled slightly before being lifted by a stronger gust, swelling into a soft arc.

Light flowed across the fabric, swept into those supple undulations.

In the interplay of light and shadow, Shen Qingyu felt her own heart swaying, creating silent ripples in sync with the fluttering curtains.

Zhu Songning’s hands were truly, exceptionally beautiful; Shen Qingyu had lost count of how many times she had caught herself staring at them in a daze.

Slender and well-proportioned, the knuckles protruded beneath the skin with a luster like polished jade. Upon the joints lay thin calluses, the mark of long years of manual practice.

A paintbrush spun between her fingertips, its edge still shimmering with a faint, damp glint.

Zhu Songning kept her lashes lowered, seemingly aware that Shen Qingyu would not refuse her. As the tip of the brush dipped into the water, the surface trembled under its movement; the bristles spread out like a cloud dissolving in the depths.

The brush stretched and contracted in the water, appearing to breathe in and out. Her thumb brushed down the length of the handle, pressing lightly against the tip, forcing the water to escape from the bristles in a thin, delicate trail.

Under the saturation of the water, the brush regained its inherent suppleness and lightness.

Shen Qingyu suddenly began to regret agreeing to be Zhu Songning’s subject.

Her breathing grew hurried once more as she watched Zhu Songning use the dampened brush to re-saturate it with pigment.

She watched as Zhu Songning selected colors from the palette and set them against her ribs.

How could she…

To use a brush washed like that… and finally let it land upon her body.

Shen Qingyu’s fingertips twitched, yet she made no move to stop Zhu Songning.

The wind was separated from them only by a pane of glass, and she could almost hear the whistle of the winter chill outside.

Shen Qingyu was very thin; when she leaned back, her ribs and abdomen formed a breathtakingly beautiful curve.

Zhu Songning traced lines across her ribs and side with infinite patience, as lifelike petals and leaves leapt onto her skin.

“Lift your arms a bit, Sister.”

Zhu Songning paused her brushwork for a moment, looking up at her.

Shen Qingyu didn’t answer. She simply raised both hands, curving them beside her head as she cooperated by arching further back.

That stretch of ribline, elongated by her movement, lunged into view. Light and shadow fell across her skin in staggered patches, delineating the points of bone and the hollows of her curves with rhythmic clarity.

In Zhu Songning’s eyes, that exposed stretch of Shen Qingyu’s waist seemed to be breathing, stretching, and blooming.

The patterns she painted beneath the left ribs—interwoven with pale reds, light yellows, and slender green lines—didn’t look like they had been applied by a brush. Instead, they looked like flowering branches growing out of her body, moist and vivid.

As the physical curves were pulled taut, the flowers stretched with them, quietly unfolding as she extended her body.

The room was dimly lit, and with Shen Qingyu’s head tilted far back, Zhu Songning couldn’t see her eyes clearly, but she could see the high bridge of her nose and the moist, crimson lips beneath it.

The Omega’s lips were pressed tight, likely from a sense of shame, drawn into a rigid line.

“Is it finished?”

This pose demanded too much core strength; Zhu Songning noticed her struggle and reached out to support her lower back.

Shen Qingyu had only just relaxed, entrusting her full weight to the Alpha’s strong arm, when in the next second, her abdomen tightened once more.

Because Zhu Songning had pressed a kiss against the flowers painted on her skin.

It was different from the kisses on her shoulders or collarbone.

The colors of these flowers were more vibrant; perhaps because of the consistency of the water used, they felt tacky even after drying.

Such an extravagant pattern did not look out of place on Shen Qingyu; instead, it lent her features a faint, divine quality.

The Omega had narrow, deep double eyelids, beneath which were dark, translucent pupils looking down at her.

Her hands had been raised in the air for too long and had grown weary.

Zhu Songning timely leaned her head forward, and Shen Qingyu’s hand naturally fell upon the crown of her head, ruffling through her fluffy hair.

Zhu Songning suddenly felt that the hand stroking her head felt just like the hand of a mother in a TV drama resting on her child.

If she had a mother of her own, would being patted on the head feel exactly like this?

Outside the window, the sunlight was perfect—bright and warm even in the depths of winter, appearing no different from a day in spring or summer.

Shen Qingyu had been playing around with her for so long that she nearly forgot the most important task at hand.

Gently pushing away Zhu Songning, who had been clinging to her like glue, Shen Qingyu turned around with an air of mystery. She pulled a large, opaque box out from the wardrobe in the room.

“What’s this?”

Zhu Songning couldn’t help herself; she eyed the object with intense curiosity.

Unfortunately, the packaging was too thorough; looking at the sturdy, square exterior, it was impossible to see what was inside.

Is it a surprise Sister prepared for me? A gift?

Thinking this, Zhu Songning voiced the question out loud.

Shen Qingyu paused to consider, then shook her head.

“Not exactly?”

Her expression flickered with a hint of troubled thought.

Just as the words left her mouth, the box began to vibrate violently. Whatever was inside seemed to have woken up and was now thrashing against the four walls of the container.

Zhu Songning was startled, nearly jumping out of her skin.

“What on earth is that?!” she exclaimed, her face paling in shock.

Shen Qingyu laughed as she lifted the lid of the box.

“I suppose you could call it a ‘half-living’ thing. Real living creatures shouldn’t be given as gifts.”

A living thing? And only a half?

Zhu Songning peered into the box and saw a flailing, brandishing plush rabbit—identical to the one she had owned in the other world.

“What do you mean ‘half’! I am a fully living being!”

The familiar voice of 001 erupted from the rabbit’s mouth.

Zhu Songning arched an eyebrow and shoved the rabbit head—which was trying desperately to squeeze out—right back down.

“So it’s you.”

“What? What’s with that look? Is there something wrong with me? Why do you sound so disappointed?” 001 struggled incessantly under her hand.

Zhu Songning remarked, “How is it that after not seeing you for so long, you’ve become even more short-tempered?”

Ever since the night of their debut, 001 had exhausted its energy and entered a dormant state. Furthermore, the doll that previously housed it had been caught in the crossfire of the Main System’s attack, charred into a piece of charcoal.

She hadn’t expected that during these past few days, Shen Qingyu had managed to craft a beautiful new shell for it.

It was lovely and meticulously crafted; every joint could move freely, and its facial expressions were far richer than before. It was clear a great deal of money and effort had been spent—it had truly lucked out.

Shen Qingyu explained to her, “Previously, my memories were blurred by the Main System, so I couldn’t remember the doll’s appearance perfectly. It should be correct now; I’ve fully replicated it for you.”

Hearing this, Zhu Songning froze. The hand that had been tugging at the rabbit suddenly lost its grip.

001 was still pushing upward with all its might; with the resistance gone, the momentum sent it flying out of the box instantly, landing right into Zhu Songning’s arms.

“Whoa—!”

Zhu Songning scrambled to catch it, a flurry of chaotic movement.

One person and one rabbit, two pairs of round, wide eyes, both stared at Shen Qingyu.

“001! How did you get so heavy?!” Zhu Songning felt the heavy weight in her arms.

001’s face turned bright red with rage: “Liar! You’re a liar!”

After finally catching it and steadying herself, Zhu Songning looked it over carefully. Indeed, she still preferred this original version the most.

001 was too busy sulking to pay her any mind. Zhu Songning teased it for a while, but seeing no response, she could only withdraw her hand dejectedly.

She looked up at Shen Qingyu again, seeing half of her snow-white hair glowing in the sunlight. Zhu Songning held 001 with one arm; the rabbit had exhausted its anger and was now peacefully asleep in the crook of her arm, leaving a conspicuous trail of drool on her long sleeve.

As Shen Qingyu watched them, she suddenly burst into laughter.

Zhu Songning reached out to grab her wrist, her fingers sliding down Shen Qingyu’s palm to interlock through the gaps between her fingers, squeezing tight.

The sun was just right, the light was brilliant, and they stood before an infinite possibility of sunrises and sunsets.

Every time she thought of this, Zhu Songning felt a profound sense of gratitude.

Grateful for the sunlight, grateful for their meeting.

Grateful that Shen Qingyu was a part of her past, her present, and her future.

Even as she loved her, the other was running toward her as well.

In life, most people one meets are like a passing rain shower encountered by chance.

Only Shen Qingyu was the rainy season that lingered in her life, refusing to leave—invading the depths of her heart, shimmering against the light, weaving a net in which she was more than willing to be bound.

For this, she was eternally grateful to all things.

—END OF AFTER THE END—

[Heart][Heart][Heart] I am also grateful to have met all of you! I hope this was a sweet, light story that could warm you in the winter! Kisses!

Support