Cross the Boundary GL - Chapter 39

Every scar could be matched one by one to black-and-white words on paper.
Although Zhou Qingchun’s family was poor, her parents had been loving toward each other. After her father passed away, her mother—despite overworking herself—still refused to let her drop out of school to support the family.

“Mom is useless.” She had cried as she said it. “I’ve only dragged you down.”

In the end, Zhou Qingchun still resolutely gave up her studies. It wasn’t about dragging anyone down—this was the path she had chosen herself.

And Qin Song?
As a rich family’s young lady, she should’ve lived a life a hundred times happier than Zhou Qingchun’s—at least materially satisfied and abundant. But from the looks of it now, maybe not even as good as hers.

Zhou Qingchun gazed for a while, shutting out the rain and howling wind outside the door.

The stack of documents Qin Song had given her sat thick on the table. She turned off the living room light and was about to head into the bathroom, when out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a soil-brown envelope on the desk.

Those things contained memories. Heavy and unbearable, yet still provoking a rising sense of curiosity—the more you ignored it, the heavier it grew.

So in the end, the living room light was switched on again. In her blurred vision, she pulled out the neatly stacked A4 papers. Zhou Qingchun took a deep breath before lowering her head to carefully read.

She had already been vaguely aware of some of Zheng Chengfeng’s crimes. In a business that large, with no rivals in Nancheng daring to threaten him, it wasn’t hard to guess what he was involved in. Still, in the past she hadn’t cared—it didn’t matter.

Because all she needed was money, and her family’s safety.

Becoming Zheng Chengfeng’s mistress was a choice, not the only option. But Zhou Qingchun had thought: if she had already stepped into the mud, then she might as well walk straight into the darkness.

The documents were very professional—not like Qin Song had written them. At the end, she flipped to the back and, sure enough, saw Hu Muwan’s seal.

Her breathing went uneven. She was very clear about the weight those three characters—Hu Muwan—carried. Like a judge’s hammer securing the verdict, pinning the facts firmly in place. That was likely Qin Song’s main reason for choosing to fight back.

But Zheng Chengfeng was like a vast grassland—wildfires could never burn it all, spring winds would always bring it back to life. He truly was suited to being at the top, a man who could survive any desperate situation.

At that moment, her phone suddenly rang. Startled, Zhou Qingchun dropped a glass to the floor, shattering it. Seeing the caller ID—Zheng Chengfeng—she didn’t even have time to clean up before hurriedly answering.

“H-hello…?”

“What are you doing?” came the mature voice from the other end. This man was older than her father, standing at the peak of power, with looks far more striking than most middle-aged men of his age.

Unlike those fat, greasy nouveau riche, anyone who didn’t know him would easily believe him to be elegant and charming.

“Nothing much, about to go to bed.” Zhou Qingchun held the phone between shoulder and ear while quickly gathering the papers back into the envelope. “Is something wrong?”

Zheng Chengfeng was at a KTV. The background was especially noisy. “Take a shower. I drank too much tonight. I’ll come to your place?”

Staring at the documents by her side, the girl hesitated for a moment before immediately replying: “Okay, come over.”

He hung up.

She sat in silence for a while, then picked up the lighter Qin Song had left on the desk. One by one, she burned all the papers into ashes and tossed them out the window.

The black embers vanished into the wind and rain below. She opened her palm, then hurled the lighter out as well.

Qin Song hadn’t seen Li Chu for two days. After finishing up a major contract, her leave was once again at the top of the schedule. Her day off happened to fall on the weekend.

She came to the door of kiss.me. The tiny shop inside was buzzing with voices. Seeing the place packed full of people, Qin Song pulled back the hand reaching for the door, shoved it into her pocket, and fished out a cigarette instead.

Ever since meeting Li Chu, she had been smoking more frequently—probably to suppress her unstable, pathological emotions.

—She didn’t want Li Chu surrounded by so many people.

Like now: a female client had just gotten a tattoo on her arm, and was chatting happily with Li Chu. At the height of their conversation, she even reached out and touched Li Chu’s hair.

The glass door separated Qin Song from Li Chu’s laughter, and also from Qin Song’s restless… possessiveness.

Inside, the female client sat down on a chair and suggested, “You should promote yourself online. With skills like yours, this little business doesn’t do you justice!”

Li Chu held the machine, dimples appearing as she smiled. “I don’t know how to do that sort of thing.”

“I’ll recommend you some platforms. Just record your daily work, that’s all. Slowly you’ll gain more and more followers. When you’ve got fans, you’ll never have to worry about customers.”

The girl was kind-hearted, quickly pulling out her phone to show Li Chu. She never noticed the look in Qin Song’s eyes from outside—as though staring at a carcass.

When the girl left, she brushed past Qin Song at the door, glancing strangely at her. Whispering to her companion as they walked away: “She’s so… non-mainstream, huh?”

Her friend looked back. “So many tattoos—doesn’t it hurt?”

“These trendy girls are all just following fads. She’ll probably regret it later!”

“Shh… she’s looking this way.”

Few people could withstand Qin Song’s chill. If Li Chu hadn’t quickly stepped forward to shut the door, those girls probably wouldn’t have left so easily.

“Don’t mind them, they don’t know the situation.”

Changing the needle, Li Chu finally looked up. “Touch-up?”

Qin Song curved her lips. “Tattoo.”

“Where this time?” Li Chu wanted to ask if there was anywhere left to cover. The outlines had all been finished; only coloring remained.

But Qin Song was not like normal people. “Collarbone.”

Li Chu blinked in surprise. “Collarbone? But you already have a piercing there…”

“Tattoo.”

When the machine was ready, Li Chu realized Qin Song hadn’t even said what she wanted. Not far away, Qin Song reclined in the chair, tilting her head back against the wall.

A sleeping lion—who would dare provoke her?

After a long while, Qin Song grew impatient, opening her eyes. “Waiting for someone?”

“No.” Li Chu slowly sat across from her, finally asking, “What do you want to tattoo?”

Qin Song didn’t move, just stared directly at her.

Just as Li Chu was about to buckle under the gaze, Qin Song spoke again: “Your name.”

Li Chu’s eyes widened in shock. “What did you say?”

“Your name,” Qin Song repeated coldly. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Having spent time with her, Li Chu could sense how irritable and impatient Qin Song was at that moment, suppressing violent anger beneath the surface.

It made her heart race with unease.

When she finally lowered the needle, her hand trembled for once. She stopped and shook her head frantically. “No, I… I don’t know how to do that!”

Why a name? That was the dumbest thing to tattoo. And what kind of name? Chinese, or English? Cursive, or stylized? She had no idea.

But as she tried to pull back, Qin Song grabbed her wrist and yanked her closer. The woman’s eyes were like a cat’s, calm only after repression. “You were the one who said you wanted intimacy. What—scared now?”

The sky before a storm was like this too—restrained, holding back the fury.

Li Chu could only watch as the needle dipped into red ink, stabbing into skin. She couldn’t understand why Qin Song loved red so much—it looked exactly like blood.

The act of carving into flesh carried the illusion of tearing heart and soul apart.

Beneath Qin Song’s collarbone, crimson letters gradually appeared: Li chu

It was Qin Song’s handwriting. She clutched Li Chu’s hand, guiding every stroke, engraving Li Chu’s name onto her body.

On the left side, closest to her heart.

But Li Chu couldn’t understand such madness. She tried to pull away, but the seemingly fragile hand held her fast—so strong she couldn’t break free.

In truth, Qin Song’s calligraphy was always beautiful—majestic, bold, even her English letters edged with sharpness.

But Li Chu was nearly crying. “Why?”

When the final stroke was done, Qin Song let go—only to place her hand on Li Chu’s shoulder and draw her into her space. “You wanted this. Isn’t it good to fulfill your wish?”

“I didn’t mean it like this…”

“You must mean it.” Qin Song tilted her neck, pink hair falling against Li Chu’s collarbone like blooming flowers.

“That girl—are you close with her?” She suddenly released Li Chu, rolling up her sleeve with practiced ease, her voice indifferent and casual, betraying no emotion.

Li Chu was still dazed. “Who?”

“The one just now.” Qin Song loosened two buttons as if untying a tie, tugging them down with a swift, clean motion.

The action was crisp, handsome. For a moment, Li Chu was bewitched, obediently replying: “She’s come a few times, introduced several customers. She wanted me to do online promotion.”

Qin Song chuckled. “Online marketing?” She glanced around the shop, legs crossed. “Not a bad idea.”

Li Chu couldn’t read her emotions, so she just lowered her head, fiddling with the machine.

“Do as she said.” Qin Song leaned back, her chest half-exposed. “But safety risks must be handled carefully.”

“What safety risks?” Li Chu didn’t dare look up.

Qin Song didn’t answer. She typed something on her phone for a while, then tossed it onto the counter. “Tomorrow.”

She got up to leave. Li Chu quickly stood too. “You’re going back already?”

Her face flushed. “I mean… your shirt isn’t done up properly…”

The silence in the room was awkward. Li Chu’s gaze landed on the fresh scarlet letters etched on Qin Song’s collarbone, her mind a mess.

Tonight’s sudden developments were too overwhelming.

She felt things shouldn’t be going down such a pathological path. This kind of “gift” was too heavy—she couldn’t bear it.

The sound of heels drew closer. Qin Song tilted Li Chu’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.

Li Chu’s gaze wavered, not firm at all.

“You were the one who wanted me to stay. You were the one who wanted intimacy. And now—you’re the one afraid.” Qin Song bent down, lips brushing Li Chu’s ear. “If you’re afraid, I suggest you cut your losses now. I’m far more broken than you think.”

Her lips slid down, catching Li Chu’s earlobe, teeth tugging and grinding. Li Chu jolted like struck by lightning, knees weak.

Qin Song’s left hand slipped behind her back, locking onto her shoulder blade as she deepened the act.

Li Chu grew dizzy, body floating without weight.

Soon lips moved again, brushing Li Chu’s closed eyelids before trailing lower.

Qin Song’s heat was familiar, but when her pierced tongue slid into Li Chu’s mouth, it still burned tears from her eyes.

Soft entanglement. The hand pressed to her back slid further down, bracing between her thighs. Small as she was, light as she was, Qin Song lifted her effortlessly and set her onto the desk.

Li Chu’s feet briefly left the ground before landing heavily on the tabletop.

She was wearing a short skirt today. Qin Song didn’t bother taking it off—just lifted one ankle and set it onto the cabinet beside.

Li Chu could only see her lowering her head.

And then came the shuddering—fireworks exploding from her toes to her hair.

She couldn’t stop herself from yanking out a few strands of Qin Song’s hair.

How could she escape? How could she resist? Was it Qin Song seducing her—or was it her own willingness to sink? Li Chu no longer wanted to tell right from wrong.

If there was no way out, then so be it. Intimacy was always meant to carry desire.

She was just as sick. That’s what Li Chu thought.

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