Close Enough To Pluck the Stars” (GL) - Chapter 19

Chapter 19

When Shu Qingchen returned to Liang Ke’s home, she was surprised to find a small “lion” sitting regally in the center of the living room.

The lion head was a brilliant bright silver, decorated with symmetrical auspicious cloud patterns. Its mane was snow-white and fluffy, and its two eyes shone like torches, adorned underneath with velvet balls and star-mirrors. A sense of playful bravery struck the viewer head-on.

However, the lion head was merely a head; the rest of the “lion” was distinctly human. This person’s fingers, long and fair from years of violin practice, were currently gripping the TV remote so tightly it betrayed the owner’s nervousness and lack of composure.

“Liang Ke?” Shu Qingchen asked softly.

The TV was currently broadcasting a soap opera of unknown origin. The protagonist was grabbing their love interest’s chin, asking in English: “Love me, are you afraid?”

“Mm.” The lion head slowly rotated toward the entryway. To the jingle of copper bells, it blinked laboriously at Shu Qingchen and offered a greeting: “Dr. Shu, hello. Have you had dinner?”

Steady. Must stay steady, the little lion told itself.

Shu Qingchen was only puzzled for a brief moment before she walked into the living room with perfect composure. She removed her scarf and washed her hands, going about her business with methodical grace. The shimmering silver lion head tracked her every move, jingling and chiming with every turn.

Liang Ke’s original intention was to appear both spiritually agile and adorably naive. However, mimicry is a technical skill; having failed at the “agile” part, she had to settle for “heroic sacrifice.” Breaking under Shu Qingchen’s calm indifference, she spoke first: “Look at this handicraft. It’s a New Year’s gift from Zhao Pu.”

“I see.” Shu Qingchen noted that she clearly had more to say.

“Taking leave to avoid work wasn’t my original intention.”

The little lion propped its head in its hands. Although it was just a souvenir sold to tourists—a far cry from a professional performance lion head—this one was made of particularly sturdy materials. Under the long duration of maintaining a “stately” posture, Liang Ke’s head and neck were overburdened and on the verge of collapse.

“But now, I have no choice but to take leave. I have a compelling reason,” she said. She leaned out, supporting the heavy head, trying to reach her water glass.

Shu Qingchen’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, but she kindly helped pour the water and gently handed it to Liang Ke.

“Thank you.” Liang Ke’s eyes moistened with gratitude. Immediately following that, the sofa became moistened as well. Having miscalculated the distance, half a glass of water spilled out, drenching, flushing, and nearly sweeping away both her and her disguise.

A vast majority of cats are afraid of water, and a vast majority of cats love cleanliness. The “Liang Calico” sat squarely at the intersection of both. She let out a soft yelp and instinctively ripped off the lion head, revealing a slightly swollen head wrapped in gauze—three loops to the left, three to the right, every layer saturated with the deep-seated responsibility and “love” of an emergency room doctor.

Shu Qingchen sat to the side holding the water glass, expressionless. Noticing Liang Ke observing her, she curled her index finger and lightly tapped the side of the glass.

“Heh… this is a fall. A sudden, small accident. You can just ignore me,” Liang Ke said, suppressed by the other’s aura, not daring to waste the Big Shot’s time any further.

“Oh.” Shu Qingchen seemed to accept this, slightly tilting her head and looking away.

The foolish Liang Ke breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, at what angle did you fall to land directly on the top of your head?” The Big Shot’s gaze snapped back, ten degrees colder than before.

Liang Ke was out of words.

Her cunning, the IQ she’d been proud of for half her life, her pride, and every trait a “stubborn bottom” should possess were all sealed away by that single look.

If Shu Qingchen thought she was self-harming to gain sympathy, things would be even harder to explain. Thinking of this, Liang Ke grabbed Shu Qingchen’s fingertips—with both hands.

They both looked down at the same time.

Clearly, this instinctive move to appear “sincere” only caused her blood pressure to rise further. It was tragic—altogether too tragic.

“Dr. Shu,” Liang Ke lifted her head stiffly, throwing caution to the wind. She pulled on Shu Qingchen’s forearm, using her few remaining normal brain cells to think, and then blurted out: “Do you like arm wrestling?”

Shu Qingchen remained seated and motionless. She looked up at Liang Ke, who had regained a sliver of sanity and, responding to the “confess and be rewarded with leniency” look in the other’s eyes, recounted her grievances and helplessness in full.

“As for facing difficulties, I feel I’ve done my best. I wanted to salvage my performance review, so I went to see Wu Chuchu this afternoon. But she seemed exceptionally irritable today; no matter what I said, she wouldn’t listen. And regarding the reports… though your annotations were very detailed, the deadline is so tight and your standards are so high, I really feel a bit out of my depth,” Liang Ke said, sitting up straight.

Life had always gone smoothly for her. She had never tasted such flustered helplessness. Everything seemed to validate Xiao Iron-Tower’s arrogant words: the people who paved the way for her were getting older. Yet the more it was like this, the harder it was for Liang Ke to convince herself to think calmly and face things rationally.

“Are you acting out of spite?” Shu Qingchen asked, hitting the nail on the head.

“No.” Liang Ke presented her “honesty” like a formal tribute.

Despite her denial, she was incredibly nervous, constantly observing the other’s reaction. Then, the water glass in Shu Qingchen’s hand landed with a moderate thud on the glass surface of the coffee table, letting out a crisp, heavy sound.

Liang Ke instinctively leaned back, even shivering slightly.

This small disturbance caused the “Calico Cat” to lose all face. Her shoulders slumped in defeat; she felt grey and wronged, and the throbbing pain from her wound only added fuel to the fire.

Don’t cry. Don’t be childish, the Calico told herself, but she couldn’t stop her nose from stinging and her eyes from blurring. She stood up using the sofa for support, intending to flee the scene in a dizzy daze.

Given that Liang Ke had never met her biological parents (or even foster parents), and that Madam Liang Jiyue was an old-school musician who had been tempered by the fires of a battlefield performance troupe, her grandmother’s “iron-clad” psyche meant she didn’t know how—and wasn’t willing—to show Liang Ke what “tenderness” was. In her current state, the only sanctuary Liang Ke could rely on was her blankets.

So, Liang Ke returned to the bedroom, spread the quilt, and curled into a ball inside.

Shu Qingchen entered silently to grab her laptop, only to find this rounded, steady lump.

The Calico heard her but pretended she hadn’t, shrinking further into the quilt. The fragrance reaching her nose was both familiar and strange, making her feel warm and comforted at first, before she realized a much more difficult problem to face.

“I didn’t mean it… I really didn’t mean to occupy your room,” Liang Ke said, struggling to get up.

“Don’t move,” Shu Qingchen commanded sternly.

“Huh? Um… okay?”

“I told you not to move around.”

“Oh.” Liang Ke froze, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. I said I didn’t mean to sleep in the wrong bed, why so fierce?

Shu Qingchen’s fingers were still cold. As she peeled away the gauze, she accidentally brushed against Liang Ke’s cheek. Liang Ke instinctively flinched back but was held firmly in place.

“Did the doctor tell you to bring an ice pack back?”

“Ah, yes.” Liang Ke thought to herself: What do I need an ice pack for? With you standing here, the room temperature is already about the same as the outdoors in Mohe.

Fresh blood had soaked the gauze and was slowly spreading, but the pace had slowed significantly. The Big Shot’s method of stopping the bleeding had achieved a phased victory.

The Calico sat obediently against the headboard, both grateful and melancholy, watching Shu Qingchen bring her anti-inflammatory medicine and warm water.

She had originally intended to stagger back to the study, but the moment that thought arose, it was strangled by the Big Shot’s gaze. And so, on this quiet night when the moon set and the crows were silent, the “Calico” felt, for the first time in her life, a sincere sense of gratitude toward Wu Chuchu.