Heading for the Plains - Chapter 37

It turns out some people are equally talented as students and as teachers. Just moments ago, while Xia Chao was explaining how to lean into a turn and how to accelerate, Ping Yuan had been teetering so precariously that Xia Chao thought she hadn’t absorbed a single word.

Until now. As Ping Yuan surged to Xia Chao’s side once again, she realized that Ping Yuan had understood everything.

She wasn’t at the level of an athlete, of course, but for a beginner, she was extraordinary. She mimicked Xia Chao’s posture, keeping her lead leg at a ninety-degree angle and pushing off with the other. The first stride was a bit shaky, but by the second and third, she had mastered her balance.

The night blurred past. The lights of the park flashed in Ping Yuan’s obsidian eyes with shimmering ripples that seemed to hold all the light and shadow in the world. Xia Chao felt she was like a nimble gazelle, slender and agile, impossible to catch.

But a gazelle that cannot be caught only makes the cheetah want to hunt more.

Resistance seemed to vanish; so did gravity. They chased each other down the long speed lane, nipping at each other’s heels on the turns, fiercely competitive as they fought for the inside lane.

Ping Yuan felt herself smiling. What joy, what weightless speed! Sitting on the back of a bicycle was lovely, but that was happiness granted by someone else. Tonight, she who had always been barred from sports meets and roller coasters because of her heart surgery, discovered for the first time that she too could possess this kind of speed.

It was intoxicating.

They skated lap after lap, pouring their hearts into it. It was a race without a starting line, and naturally, they didn’t know where the finish line was. They only knew that by the final laps, both their hearts were drumming like hammers and their eyes were burning bright.

It was Ping Yuan who eventually raised a hand to signal a truce. After all, she was a person who had undergone heart surgery; her chest heaved, and she was quickly becoming short of breath.

Seeing her stop, Xia Chao smiled and slowed her pace, letting inertia carry them toward the rest area.

“Are you happy?” she asked.

Music began to play at just the right moment. One of those sugary pop songs amusement parks love. During the race, they hadn’t even noticed the music. Now that they had stopped, the world they had briefly left behind came back into focus, like a great whale surfacing from the deep.

Ping Yuan looked at Xia Chao. As her vision focused, she felt the girl’s features become vivid and clear in her sight. It was as if this world, this lighthearted love song, had only started spinning because of her presence.

How did it come to this? She didn’t quite understand; she only felt her heart still pounding. Such a powerful beat; it felt like proof that she was alive.

Perhaps it was just post-exercise dopamine? Speed and passion are always alluring. She looked at Xia Chao and smiled back, but instead of answering the question, she said, “Your hair.”

Hair again. Xia Chao looked at her, realizing belatedly that because she had taken off her hair tie, a stray strand had been blown by the wind and was stuck to her lip.

The scene must have looked silly; she had been smiling and talking to Ping Yuan like that. Xia Chao’s face instantly flushed crimson, a wave of panic washing over her. She didn’t want to make an awkward face in front of Ping Yuan, so she kept her expression stiff, trying to subtly purse her lips to get the meddlesome hair out.

But it didn’t work.

The hair was so easy to ignore that she wouldn’t have noticed it if Ping Yuan hadn’t pointed it out. Ping Yuan watched Xia Chao, the girl who had been as agile as a leopard on the rink was now red-faced, vainly trying to shake off a single hair stuck to her lip. She looked adorably stupid.

Like a confused Samoyed shaking its head, unable to get rid of a tiny dandelion puff stuck to its nose.

The thought made Ping Yuan laugh. With a smile, she took a step forward and reached out. “Let me help you.”

But her feet suddenly faltered.

She had stepped right onto the painted boundary line of the rink. The floor paint had a slight thickness to it. Anyone else might have just stumbled, but Ping Yuan was already exhausted to the point of weakness. Her knees gave way, and she pitched forward.

Dammit, we only did a few laps. As she lost her balance, she cursed herself, deeply regretting the small dumbbells gathering dust at home.

But Xia Chao caught her.

That was inevitable. Ping Yuan had been moving toward her to fix her hair, so she fell right into her. But because they were both still moving, the catch was clumsy and frantic. There was no longer any room for polite distance.

Xia Chao even stumbled under the weight. The wheels whirled beneath them; they wobbled back and forth, both on the verge of falling. Xia Chao gripped Ping Yuan’s waist, pulled forward by her own momentum, while Ping Yuan wide-eyed, grabbed Xia Chao’s hand for support.

In a flurry of limbs, they were like two octopuses that had just learned to be human, or two clumsy penguins spinning on ice, clutching each other, frantically trying to regain balance.

Until the railing of the rink finally appeared before them.

Ping Yuan finally leaned against the bar. Xia Chao, holding her waist, finally found steady support and let out a massive sigh of relief. She was about to look up and ask if Ping Yuan was okay, or if they should get some water, but the words died in her throat.

Because her nose had accidentally brushed against Ping Yuan’s lips.

They were too close.

The soft sensation was fleeting. Only now did she realize how intimate their posture was. She was still holding Ping Yuan’s waist, practically pinning her against the railing. But this time, it wasn’t a light, steadying touch; her palm was firmly wrapped around Ping Yuan’s waist.

The waves were choppy, and the little boat rocked unsteadily. Xia Chao’s eyes went wide. Her instinct was to let go and back away, yet she didn’t.

Why didn’t she let go? Was it because they were still on skates and she’d lose her balance? Or was it because the atmosphere was too strange, and letting go would feel too deliberate, too awkward?

Perhaps it was neither. Xia Chao stared blankly, realizing she hadn’t let go because Ping Yuan was staring back at her, just as stunned.

She rarely looked so dazed. Not even on that first night they shared a bed. But for some reason, Ping Yuan looked lost in thought.

Was the breathing too close? Why hadn’t she moved away? Warm breath brushed against Ping Yuan’s cheek, ruffling a light lock of hair. Ping Yuan just stood there silently, gazing at her, feeling their warm breaths intertwine and rise toward their cheeks.

The heat rose. They looked at each other, their gazes turning into soft feathers, hesitantly touching one another.

Xia Chao smelled the wonderful fragrance on Ping Yuan. She even noticed a tiny, faint mole on Ping Yuan’s eyelid, because for a split second, Ping Yuan seemed to close her eyes.

Her lashes were still so long, so light. When they lowered, they fluttered like feathers that would fly away with a breath—so light, so fragile, making one want to gather them in one’s hand and keep them there.

It made her want to get even closer.

Strange… they used the same laundry detergent, so why did Ping Yuan always smell so much better? And why hadn’t Ping Yuan stepped back yet?

She was still looking at her with that hazy gaze. Her long lashes were like butterfly wings, closing and opening, closing and opening, like slow motion in a movie.

In that instant, Xia Chao realized what she was about to do. Don’t get any closer! she screamed at herself, yet she couldn’t control it. Her whole world was filled with Ping Yuan’s magnified breathing. It felt like a mistake that was destined to be made; she could only watch it happen, unable to turn away.

The whole world seemed to sigh. A dizzying sensation hit her. She heard her heart—thumping like a drum, like ten thousand summers before a storm. The butterfly stirred the wind, becoming a sharp sword that pierced through her heart in an instant.

But it wasn’t the sweetness of a kiss. Xia Chao’s eyes snapped wide. She felt the world suddenly move away as a sensation of weightlessness hit her. She lost her balance and fell to the ground.

Clack. The sound of the skates hitting the floor was like a blow to the head, waking the sleepwalker.

“The fireworks are starting,” Ping Yuan said.

Her expression was a blank slate, filled with a certain daze. Xia Chao sat on the floor, looking up at her, stunned, hearing the boom of the fireworks above.

The fireworks had indeed started. Just at the moment their lips were about to touch, the night clock struck eight. The erupting fireworks exploded in a vast sea of light, forcing every visitor in the park to look up.

They were so massive, so brilliant, so undeniably dazzling that Xia Chao didn’t even have a chance to wonder: Did you push me away because you heard the fireworks, or did you use them as an excuse to push me away?

But she didn’t need to ask.

Everything had been exposed. The moment Ping Yuan pushed her, she realized that her desire to kiss her wasn’t a sudden impulse.

She had wanted to kiss her for a long time.

In the late afternoon, in the fields before the sun went down, she had watched Ping Yuan close her eyes; the same lowered lashes, the same soft curve, like a princess waiting to be kissed. The desire to do something quiet and private had already been in her heart then.

That soft, red berry had just been a substitute for the kiss she wanted to give.

She had ignored it. Intentionally or not. She should have known; from the moment she had that dream about kissing her, she should have been on guard.

Not because the dream was absurd—absurdity is actually comforting; humans have desires, and a sensual dream is just a manifestation of that. But this was not normal. Who in this world makes you want to leave a kiss with such reverence?

Only the person you love.

See? The answers were all so clear. She had just been too afraid to look.

Ping Yuan still stood there, looking down at her. By the sudden flash of the fireworks, Xia Chao saw her expression with perfect clarity. At first, it was an incredulous panic, as if she couldn’t believe what had almost happened. Then, as the fireworks faded, the panic vanished, replaced by a cold, silent sternness in the shadows.

It was the same silence she had shown Tian Lao-liu—a look of profound disgust.

How could she not be disgusted? What kind of younger sister in this world would harbor such thoughts for her older sister? And would try to do such a thing to her tonight?

She had offended Ping Yuan.

She deserved this. A piercing pain, sharper than the fall, radiated through her body. She looked up, her face pale, knowing with absolute certainty that everything was over.

The dance in the park was so short. She had been right at the start: when the wheels are turning, you won’t fall. Now the wheels had stopped, the golden carriage had turned back into a pumpkin, and the real princess had reclaimed her glass slipper. All that was left was a clown whose trick had been exposed.

She watched as Ping Yuan slowly leaned down and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The fireworks rose again, their brilliant light stretching their shadows across the ground. Ping Yuan’s face was hidden in the darkness; her expression was unreadable.

But Xia Chao knew what she was saying.

Tears threatened to spill. Her nose stung and her chest felt tight, but she forced her eyes wide to keep the tears back. She forced a smile. “It’s okay.”

Her smile was brighter than the fireworks. She didn’t reach for Ping Yuan’s hand; she gripped the railing and pulled herself up. “I just tripped. It’s no big deal.”

She brushed the dust off her clothes. Ping Yuan said nothing more.

The fireworks continued to rise, bloom, and fall, losing their sound in her ears like a silent movie—a grand, spectacular sinking.

She knew she had ruined everything.

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