Cross the Boundary GL - Chapter 48

The flowers in the Qin family’s old courtyard had withered—it was that season again. Walking among the flowerbeds, Li Chu felt her mood was unlike before.

Yet when she brushed past the dried branches, she couldn’t help but feel as though they still held the warmth of Qin Song’s fingertips.

Qin Zhao hurried over from the back gate and offered Li Chu a polite smile.
“Lawyer Hu truly was authoritative. Thank you once again.”

Li Chu also smiled.
“You’re too polite. It was only right.”

After a short silence, Qin Zhao spoke hesitantly:
“Lele… she never told me where she’s receiving treatment. Over the years she grew quickly, and perhaps because of Zheng Chengfeng, she became very meticulous with secrecy. I can’t trace a thing, so I can’t be of much help to you.”

At those words, Li Chu’s smile faded slightly. Loose strands of hair fell over her forehead.
“That’s okay. I only came to deliver something.”

It had been about half a year since Qin Song left. After kiss.me was reorganized and reopened, Li Chu heard Qin Zhao was restructuring the business world. She made time amidst her busy schedule to visit the old house and hand over Dean Hu’s brooch.

The brooch symbolized the ability to mobilize all the forces Dean Hu had left behind in secret. It also meant the law firm would become the strongest backing for the Qin family.

Li Chu didn’t know how painful Qin Song’s treatment might be, so she could only try her best to support the Qins. At the very least… Zheng Chengfeng’s influence had already weakened. Qin Zhao was highly capable, though he returned to his position too late.

“You can rest assured—if she ever contacts us, you’ll be the first to know. Lele is not someone who changes her heart easily.”

“I know.”

Her hair had grown longer; she tied two strands at the back with a pink ribbon, forming a delicate bow.

Seeing that she truly showed no other emotion, Qin Zhao finally nodded, his gaze soft.
“I never imagined Lele would fall in love—let alone with a girl.”

Perhaps there was even a hint of teasing in his look. Li Chu’s dimples appeared as she answered lightly:
“Thank you for accepting us.”

Qin Zhao didn’t say more and personally walked her out the main gate of the old house.

Back at kiss.me, Lin Zhiyan and An Ji were sitting by the entrance playing chess. The moment they saw her, Lin Zhiyan abandoned the game and bounded up to her like she’d discovered something amazing.

“Li Xiaochu! Guess what today’s postcard says?”

“What?”

Lin Zhiyan, being impatient, couldn’t hold back at all. Even before Li Chu answered, she was already waving it proudly.
“Tibet!”

Li Chu’s customers came from all over the world. Some who admired her craft and got along well with her would send postcards from afar—sometimes even local specialties. It wasn’t unusual.

Li Chu wiped her hands clean and carefully studied the card.
“Lhasa, the Potala Palace… When I have time, I’ll travel to Tibet too.”

“Pfft—” Lin Zhiyan pouted.
“As if you’ll ever have free time.”

Since the shop’s renovation and reopening, kiss.me had reached its peak popularity. Customers were now several times more than before. Li Chu often worked from morning until midnight, meals delivered in turns by the two of them.

“Zhiyan-jie, you know what? Good thing An Ji-jie can’t hear,” Li Chu said, covering her face with the postcard, her eyes twinkling like a fawn’s. “Otherwise she’d be driven crazy by you.”

Lin Zhiyan lunged to grab her.
“What did you say? Huh? You think I’m noisy? Then go find someone quiet!”

At that, Li Chu’s smile dimmed. Her expression fell as she turned the postcard over in silence.

Catching sight of An Ji’s warning hand signs behind her, Lin Zhiyan groaned and rubbed her head.
“Even when we try to set you up on blind dates, you won’t go. You really plan to just… wait like this?”

Her words carried unspoken meaning. Li Chu quickly replied:
“I don’t like men.”

“You’re not with a woman either! Stop making excuses!”

Li Chu gave a faint smile but then suddenly changed expression.
“This postcard… where did it come from?”

Her abrupt shift startled Lin Zhiyan.
“Where else? Same place as always. Why? What’s wrong?”

In the corner of the card with the Potala Palace, a string of handwritten English letters stood out faintly—barely noticeable unless one looked closely. But Li Chu caught it immediately.

That handwriting was identical to the shop sign’s. When kiss.me was redone, the funds went through Qin Song’s name, and naturally the sign’s lettering was hers. One’s handwriting does not change so easily.

The confirmation came from the short but clear words written there: to Li chu.

Qin Song…

Her hand trembled slightly. After half a year, someone had disappeared without a word—only to reappear silently.

Staring at it, Li Chu suddenly let out a laugh, though tears welled up, alarming Lin Zhiyan.
“Why… why are you crying? What is it? Let me see!”

But Lin Zhiyan couldn’t tell what was unusual. Anxious, she exchanged a desperate glance with An Ji, signaling her to take a look.

An Ji tilted her head, examined it for a few seconds, then glanced at the shop sign. Clearly—the same handwriting.

Lin Zhiyan almost jumped on the spot, fuming.
“So! That Qin Song finally decides to show herself! What is she doing—treating illness or sightseeing? Off to Tibet for ‘spiritual cleansing’?”

An Ji quickly tugged her sleeve, wordlessly halting her outburst.

Li Chu eventually pinned the postcard to the white wall of her apartment.

But the apartment’s true owner, far away, knew nothing of what was happening in Nancheng.

She stood beneath the red-brick, green-tiled eaves, northern winds tossing her faded hair.

“Miss Qin, we’re about to head out,” the tour guide reminded.

Qin Song drew back her gaze. The sunlight rippled along her brows and eyes. The guide, flag and camera in hand, called out cheerfully to the group:
“Come, everyone! Let’s take a big group photo!”

As the sun set and the breeze blew, the Forbidden City loomed magnificently behind them. After the group photo, a few girls in the tour took the chance to ask the guide for help.

“We’d like to take a picture with Sister Qin Song. Could you ask her for us?”

The guide chuckled.
“Miss Qin is easy to talk to. Just ask her yourselves.”

The girls exchanged nervous looks, pushing each other but none daring to step forward.

Qin Song walked calmly to the gate of the site. It was her last day in Beijing. As usual, she wrote her postcard in English and sent it to that familiar address.

“Your handwriting is beautiful, jiejie,” the girls finally surrounded her. By chance, the three of them formed a circle around her. Qin Song instinctively frowned, then relaxed, her voice even.
“What is it?”

They raised their camera shyly.
“Can we take a picture with you? Tomorrow we’ll be on different routes.”

The group would split—one heading south, the other toward Changbai Mountain. Qin Song and most had chosen the former. She had joined midway, reportedly for treatment, and the guide had specifically instructed them not to disturb her too much.

Though she hadn’t shown any signs of illness, everyone respected the warning, avoided unnecessary questions, and never mentioned anything about her health.

Of course, traveling together meant some interactions were inevitable. Once while climbing, a little girl had severe altitude sickness and not enough oxygen. It was Qin Song who lent hers.

So, a beautiful, quiet, and capable woman—even if she did have problems—was easy to accept.

“Alright.” Qin Song slipped the postcard into the mailbox. She was so tall she even bent down a little for the group photo.

“You always send postcards—are they for a friend?” one girl asked.

Her companion quickly nudged her, hinting she’d overstepped.

Qin Song’s lips curved slightly, her fleeting smile softening her sharp features.
“For my girlfriend.”

“…Girlfriend?!” they gasped together. “Sister, I can too—ah no, we mean, liking girls is wonderful!”

Yes, it was wonderful. But only because of that girl far away.

Setting down her pen, Qin Song said softly, “Safe travels.”

After half a year of secluded treatment, her medications were reduced, and the psychiatrist suggested travel therapy—joining tour groups, mingling, learning to communicate, to care for herself and others.

Thus Qin Song began her long journey. At first she resisted everyone. The first to speak to her was that little girl.

Children were pure. Without hesitation, the girl offered her an orange candy wrapped in colored paper, then sat beside her on the bus, chatting in her soft, sweet voice.

Inevitably, Qin Song thought of Li Chu, and reached for the photo.

“She’s so pretty! Who is she?” the little one asked, sweaty and flushed from play, leaning close. It was Qin Song’s first time having such close contact. She instinctively shoved the child away, not lightly either.

But the girl didn’t mind—she only laughed, eyes crescent-shaped.
“Are you shy? Is she the person you like?”

See? A child’s eyes always see the truth.

By the seventh month of travel, Qin Song could already split into groups and coordinate tasks in the desert. She rarely spoke but quietly observed.

The girls cared about looking pretty for photos, their outfits, the aesthetics.

The boys sought experiences—climbing, sports, food, grand scenery.

On the six-hundredth day since leaving Nancheng, Qin Song was in Qingdao. She bought a Polaroid camera. On the bus, the little girl, Yuan Yuan, came over again with snacks.

“Qin Song, here, eat.”

“Yuan Yuan, can’t you sit still for a while?” her mother sighed beside her, giving Qin Song an apologetic smile.
“She’s too active.”

“It’s fine,” Qin Song said after a pause. “I don’t mind.”

She was now learning to accept people, to speak in ways that made others comfortable—things impossible during closed-off treatment.

The hardest part of healing was facing herself. She gradually realized how selfish and dark she once was—and how only Li Chu accepted her.

Li Chu had always been so tolerant. She should be grateful—for the pain, the gentleness, the forgiveness, and the love she received.

And so, on the seven-hundredth day, in kiss.me’s mailbox, there wasn’t just a seaside postcard but also five photos.

“Oh wow, she’s making friends now?” Lin Zhiyan dangled her legs. “And with kids—she could be their mom!”

In the photos, Qin Song’s sharp edges had softened, her whole being radiating warmth. Li Chu pressed them to her chest, as though she could feel her distant lover’s heartbeat.

Lin Zhiyan watched her and sighed.
“I really admire you. For someone like Qin Song… what kind of determination does it take for you to wait this long?”

In the distance, An Ji lowered her head, setting the table. With her disability, her world was truly silent.

In fact, Li Chu had known An Ji first. They grew up in the same courtyard but she left early to work, so they didn’t interact much.

Lin Zhiyan, as a sign language teacher, spent every day with An Ji. Their feelings grew silently, naturally, and they simply stayed by each other’s side.

“Well, you never minded An Ji either,” Li Chu said with a dimpled smile, sunlight lighting her face bright and clear. “While everyone else rushed past, your eyes stayed on her.”

Lin Zhiyan was quiet for a while, then also smiled.
“Except for that, she’s flawless.”

Li Chu plucked a gardenia, inhaled its fragrance, and tucked it into her hair. Then she grinned back.
“Hm? What do you mean ‘except for that’? Be specific.”

Lin Zhiyan’s face turned visibly red.
“What are you talking about! Li Xiaochu! Don’t run! You’re so bad!”

Li Chu darted behind An Ji, almost knocking soup from her hands.

An Ji’s dark eyes turned to Lin Zhiyan in reproach.

“Okay, okay! I’ll stop!”

“Just wait till Qin Song comes back—I’ll tattle on you…”

Gardenia blossoms fell thick around their little temporary haven, filling the air with fragrance. Li Chu looked up at the cloudless sky.

On the seven-hundredth day, her longing still quietly grew.

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