Living with My Aloof Ex-Wife After the Apocalypse - Chapter 36

Chapter 36: This Was Not the First Time They Embraced.

Jiang Ping’an tried to intimidate her mother: “Xiao Yu is only staying here for a short while. Her father is a Major General; someone will come to pick her up later. Do you know what a Major General is? That’s a general! Our small, humble family can’t possibly climb that high on the social ladder.”

Chen Yun was startled. “A general? That does seem… like way too high a climb.”

Seeing that Chen Yun was taking it to heart, Jiang Ping’an wasn’t surprised. The old lady was like that—prone to whimsical ideas, but willing to listen to reason.

“Knowing to be afraid now, aren’t you?”

Chen Yun hesitated for a moment, then waved her hand. “Fine, fine. Let’s go back and help.”

A flash of a cunning smile crossed Jiang Ping’an’s eyes.

Chen Yun took two steps, then turned back: “But no matter what, Little Xiao was injured because of you. I saw that wound, it’s quite serious. You still have to look after her. Sleeping together makes it more convenient.”

“Besides, Little Xiao is so good-looking, she won’t do anything to you anyway.”

Jiang Ping’an: “…” Truly a biological mother.

That night, Chen Yun refused to let Jiang Ping’an into the bedroom, merely tossing her a quilt and a pillow. Jiang Ping’an hadn’t expected the old lady to go this far. However, as a steadfast straight woman, she was determined not to sleep with a woman whose sexual orientation was unknown, even if that woman had saved her life.

So, she used her quilt as both a mattress and a cover, preparing to make do for the night on the long rosewood bench in the living room.

In the master bedroom upstairs.

Xing He lay flat on her back while Qing Meng had her back turned toward her. Xing He felt a bit lost; today’s emotional journey had been as complex and turbulent as a roller coaster.

In the morning, when Qing Meng said she was leaving, it felt as if Xing He had lost something vital. In the afternoon, when she brought Qing Meng home, that incredibly important thing seemed to have returned to its place. At her most pessimistic, she had wondered if drunk words really couldn’t be trusted and if Qing Meng didn’t like her at all.

But today, while driving away from the Armed Forces Department, she suddenly understood: it couldn’t be fake. Xiang Tian’s existence held some suspicious points, but his words made sense. Even if Qing Meng could fake a “keep away” attitude and refuse to communicate, the worry in her eyes couldn’t be faked.

The fact that Qing Meng liked her had become a constant. So, what exactly caused her sudden change in attitude? It certainly wasn’t the game; Qing Meng’s emotions were normal then. It didn’t seem like an issue from before they slept either—she had personally admitted she liked her.

While taking advantage of someone’s vulnerability was indeed a bit dishonorable, a drunk person wouldn’t even know what they themselves were doing, let alone remember what Xing He had done. How could she hold a grudge?

Drunk… wait.

Suppose Qing Meng didn’t have a blackout? What if she remembered exactly what she had said? Or better yet, what if she wasn’t actually drunk and had merely used the alcohol as a pretext to confess her feelings?

Then, what had Xing He done the next morning?

Worry, silence, avoidance.

If she were Qing Meng, and the other person gave no response after a confession—appearing instead to be quite resistant—she would certainly feel the other person only wanted to be friends and had no intention of developing a marital relationship.

Xing He felt she had grasped the key to the matter. So that’s it!

The cause was found, but how should she apologize? Perhaps an apology wasn’t strictly necessary; the problem was how to show her that she did have those feelings. Xing He had been out of touch with modern youth for too long and didn’t know what a normal person would do in this situation. She didn’t want to appear frivolous, nor did she want to confirm their marriage relationship without any preparation—that would look like she lacked resolve and was just playing around.

How could she strike the right balance while making her feelings clear to Qing Meng? If she didn’t know how to say it out loud, perhaps she could use physical contact.

Qing Meng still had her back turned; it was impossible to tell if she was asleep. Xing He mentally prepared herself for a while and then inched forward.

In fact, Qing Meng was not asleep. She was still thinking about the events of the day. When Liao Hongfa grabbed her sleeve, Xing He had fired without hesitation. There were other, gentler and safer ways, but Qing Meng knew Xing He did it to vent her anger on her behalf. When Jiang Ping’an begged Xing He to save Xiao Yu, even knowing the people inside had firearms, she could have chosen not to help. But Xing He ultimately chose to save her, telling Jiang Ping’an at the time: “Because you are Qing Meng’s friend.”

Did all of this mean that in Xing He’s heart, she was special?

Lost in thought, Qing Meng couldn’t control her eyes from wanting to look at the other woman, so she chose to turn her back. To her surprise, while she was still hesitating over the “is she or isn’t she” question, the person behind her moved.

The bed wasn’t large to begin with, so when one person intentionally drew closer, the other could sense it immediately. Yet that person was hesitant, appearing to want to move forward but not daring to—moving two centimeters forward only to retreat one.

If it were anyone else, Qing Meng would inevitably feel the person had untoward designs on her. But Xing He had always shown no interest in matters of the bed; she probably just had something to say. Qing Meng wasn’t as timid as her; if there was a problem, she asked directly: “Is something the matter?”

Xing He had thought her movements were stealthy and unnoticed. Qing Meng’s voice startled her, and she immediately retreated to the safety line.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Qing Meng was puzzled, but since Xing He said it was nothing, she didn’t press further. Qing Meng fell silent, and Xing He grew annoyed with herself for losing a good opportunity through cowardice. Not only that, but the arduous process of inching forward had to start all over again.

She let out an involuntary sigh. Qing Meng became even more confused. Why was this person sighing for no reason?

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Xing He’s mind raced. “A little.”

Sure enough, Qing Meng rolled over, looking at her with concern. “Where is the discomfort? Were you injured today? Do you want me to take a look?”

Xing He spoke bashfully: “No… it’s just a bit cold.”

Qing Meng: “…” They hadn’t used a quilt while sleeping before, so maybe it really was a bit cold today.

“Where is the quilt? I’ll go get it for you.”

Xing He whispered: “In the cabinet in the next room.”

In truth, she wasn’t cold, and she could have fetched the quilt herself. But for some reason, she enjoyed this feeling of Qing Meng being worried and busy for her.

Tap, tap, tap—

Qing Meng returned in her slippers, bringing a fragrant, soft quilt. Xing He automatically spread the quilt and tucked herself in.

Even though it was only early autumn, the weather in C City was unpredictable. Outside, a light rain suddenly began to fall. Having walked out for a moment, Qing Meng inevitably brought back some of the chill on her body. She took off her shoes and climbed into bed.

Xing He moved the quilt over slightly to cover her as well. The quilt, encased in a small daisy-patterned cover, emitted the scent of laundry detergent. Likely because the owner had dried it in the sun, it also carried a hint of the scent of sunlight.

Beneath the quilt lay a body that seemed carved by the gods. Even through thin pajamas, the heat radiating from the other person scorched Qing Meng’s exposed skin. It wasn’t shameful for an adult to have desires, especially when lying next to the person she had liked for so long; Qing Meng couldn’t help but lose control of her thoughts.

She thought of those beautiful lips—would they taste sweet or something else? She thought of those long, slender fingers—if they moved across her skin, would it be like the fleeting moment of a firework, impossible to capture yet instantly clearing the mind?

“Qing Meng.”

Qing Meng shuddered. She knew it was impossible for the other woman to know what she was thinking, but she still felt a moment of guilt. She feigned composure: “What is it?”

“Can I hold you?”

Xing He asked tentatively, as if she were asking something very abrupt. Qing Meng was silent for a moment, neither saying yes nor no. Xing He waited for an answer that didn’t come, and in the darkness, she couldn’t see the other’s expression.

Steeling her heart, she finally just embraced her, pulling the distance between them to nothing.

This was not the first time they had embraced.

In the year she was eighteen, when Qing Meng was filling out her college applications, she wanted to apply to the China Medical University. But Qing Baishu was very adamant, demanding she apply to the China National Defense University. At that time, she ran out of the house alone and crouched by the flowerbed at the community entrance, crying. Xing He had held her just like this, comforting her. Eventually, she took her to an internet cafe and secretly changed her application back to the China Medical University.

Xing He had comforted her with a smile: “Just fill in China Medical University. If Master asks, tell him I was the one who changed it.”

Qing Baishu did find out, but by then the application deadline had passed. He couldn’t bring himself to blame his own apprentice. It was Xing He who went to the track and ran fifty laps, claiming it was her “penance.”

Later, Qing Meng and Xing He became friends, and hugging became a way for them to make up. If Xing He made her angry and wanted to reconcile, she would ask: “Can I hold you?”

Even though many years had passed, Qing Meng immediately recognized Xing He’s meaning. She was bowing her head; she wanted to make up, even though she hadn’t done anything wrong.

Qing Meng silently accepted Xing He’s embrace, allowing the other’s hands to cross her waist and lock tightly in front of her. She realized Xing He still treated her as a friend just like years ago—comforting her when she was angry and protecting her when there was danger.

But things were different now; they were both adults. Xing He didn’t use perfume; during the day she smelled of laundry detergent, and at night, of body wash. Long ago, acquaintances had said she was old-fashioned and out of touch. Only Qing Meng, who was closest to her, knew that her body had a special scent—a faint, cypress-like fragrance that was unique to Xing He alone.

Qing Meng tried her best to control her body, which had become exceptionally sensitive due to Xing He’s proximity, and she lied to herself, pretending she couldn’t feel the softness pressed against her back. But she gradually began to lose herself in Xing He’s scorching breath.

Even though she had recognized that she could be considered Xing He’s most special friend—she was still just a friend.

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