You Should’ve Said Earlier that you’re Such a Little Flirt! - Chapter 53

Xu Qingqiong stopped her tears. She hadn’t intended to cry, but she had been momentarily overcome by emotion…

With a slightly nasal voice, she explained, “I didn’t mean to cry.”

Though it wasn’t as if she had never cried in front of Lin Konglu before, in a situation like just now, she felt it was a bit embarrassing.

Whether teasing or serious, Lin Konglu nodded and said, “You didn’t cry. It was me who cried.”

Xu Qingqiong: “…”

Although the biggest misunderstanding had been cleared up, there were still many small questions left unexplained.

She wiped away her tears and was about to say something when Lin Konglu leaned in, her warm lips kissing Xu Qingqiong’s eyes. The warmth seeped through her thin eyelids, a heat so tender it made her shudder involuntarily.

Lin Konglu: “I’m sorry.”

“I should have told you sooner.”

Xu Qingqiong couldn’t help but speak up for her: “But I had forgotten you before. Would I have even believed you if you told me?”

Lin Konglu: “But you haven’t remembered me now, either.”

Xu Qingqiong was momentarily speechless.

Lin Konglu continued, “But you still chose to believe me. Right?”

Xu Qingqiong defended herself: “You have evidence.”

Lin Konglu’s gaze fell upon those few letters: “But what do these letters really prove?”

“Letters can be forged. Even if these letters are real, the content is just one person’s monologue; you never replied. Can that really count as evidence?”

Xu Qingqiong froze.

Yes, Lin Konglu was right. Letters could be forged.

Even if they weren’t forged, what did these letters prove?

They only proved that Lin Konglu indeed knew her. Nothing more.

These letters were more like a one-way delivery with no echo.

If it hadn’t been Lin Konglu telling her this today—if it had been someone else—would she have believed them?

In all likelihood, no.

Because it was Lin Konglu saying it, she believed it.

She believed her intuition.

She believed in Lin Konglu.

That was the true answer.

Lin Konglu looked at her: “Thank you.”

“Thank you for believing me,” Lin Konglu said softly, looking into her eyes. “Thank you for… liking me.”

Xu Qingqiong was silent for a moment, staring blankly at Lin Konglu.

Lin Konglu continued: “But I feel like I’ve never truly expressed my love to you.”

Lin Konglu: “I like you.”

Xu Qingqiong didn’t know whether to laugh or cry: “I know.”

In fact, looking back carefully, one could see that Lin Konglu always did more than she said. In their daily life, every meal Lin Konglu cooked for her, every “goodnight”… all held her hidden expressions of affection.

It was just that she didn’t seem to be good at verbal expression.

But that didn’t matter.

She could feel their two hearts drawing closer, like small universes being pulled together by gravity.

Xu Qingqiong: “I can feel it.”

“However,” Xu Qingqiong furrowed her brows and teased, “You acted far too cold and aloof before.”

“Sometimes I wondered, were you just born with that poker face? Like a block of ice, without a single smile?”

Lin Konglu: “I’m sorry.”

Xu Qingqiong: “There’s no need to say sorry…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Lin Konglu suddenly leaned in and kissed her.

They were talking face-to-face, and Xu Qingqiong hadn’t expected the sudden attack; she froze instantly.

Lin Konglu gripped her wrist, taking advantage of her daze to lean in and kiss her again. She pressed Xu Qingqiong’s wrist against her own chest, right over her heart, and whispered: “I was just always worried you would discover something.”

The heartbeat beneath her palm was violent yet silent, seemingly shouting, expressing its emotions. Thump after thump against her palm, it betrayed the owner’s feelings completely.

Xu Qingqiong: “…”

Xu Qingqiong now wanted to take back her assessment that Lin Konglu didn’t know how to express her feelings.

This was almost too much expression.

Xu Qingqiong: “But I wasn’t finished speaking yet.”

Lin Konglu…

Under her palm was not just a heartbeat, but a soft fullness.

Xu Qingqiong pulled her hand back uncomfortably: “About the Lin Shuhai matter…” This issue was currently like a fishbone stuck in her throat.

Even if Xu Qingqiong had been on guard today and hadn’t believed his words, the surveillance video he produced had indeed affected her.

She wanted to know why Lin Shuhai had suddenly come to find her. And why did he have those videos? Where did the videos come from?

While Lin Shuhai was essentially the same kind of person as Ye Jianguo, the difference was that Lin Shuhai was better at disguising himself; his arrogance also meant he usually disdained doing such things.

So, Lin Shuhai suddenly showing up at the art museum to find her today was extraordinary; something must have happened.

She looked at Lin Konglu, waiting for an explanation.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“The video was taken by a surveillance camera he installed in my office. I knew there was a camera, but I didn’t expect him to use it like this.” Lin Konglu pondered for a moment: “As for why he suddenly went to the museum to find you today, it might be because of company matters…”

Xu Qingqiong frowned slightly, not immediately understanding the causal link: “Company matters? What does that have to do with you?”

Lin Konglu looked at her with a hint of hesitation: “The things happening with SES right now… I did them.”

Though her voice was very soft, it reached Xu Qingqiong’s ears with perfect clarity.

Xu Qingqiong: “?”

For a moment, she doubted her own ears and instinctively wanted to ask “what do you mean you did it?”

But she reacted quickly, saying in disbelief: “You mean the fact that SES’s stock price has hit the floor, they’re being audited for taxes, and the board of directors is about to start a civil war… that was all you?”

Lin Konglu: “…Yes.”

Xu Qingqiong remained silent, feeling a bit sigh-stricken. She thought to herself that Lin Konglu’s actions sounded quite like a major villain in a novel.

She hadn’t expected Lin Konglu to be someone who did such big things so quietly.

Clearly, she had acted so diligently before, appearing as a responsible and conscientious worker, only to suddenly transform into the mastermind behind the scenes.

Life truly is unpredictable.

Lin Konglu looked at her tensely: “Sister…”

Xu Qingqiong snapped out of it and looked at her expression suspiciously: “What is it? Is there anything else you’re hiding from me?”

Lin Konglu shook her head, “No more.”

This was her biggest secret, and now she had “confessed everything for leniency.”

“But…” She watched Xu Qingqiong’s expression closely, “Are you not angry?”

“Angry? I was indeed very angry just now. I thought your marriage to me before…”

“Not that.”

Xu Qingqiong realized what she was trying to ask.

Lin Konglu asked tentatively: “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

Xu Qingqiong looked at her silently for a few seconds, then suddenly asked: “Did you use any illegal methods?”

Lin Konglu shook her head.

Xu Qingqiong asked again: “Then why would you think that?”

Because for the average person, this might be very hard to accept.

Regardless of how Lin Shuhai treated her, in name, Lin Shuhai was her father; that was indisputable.

Xu Qingqiong paused: “Did you think I was a bad person when I sent Ye Jianguo to prison?”

Lin Konglu shook her head.

Xu Qingqiong: “Why?”

Because Ye Jianguo was not a good person.

“The world isn’t just black and white.”

Lin Konglu knew that, of course. She didn’t care about the opinions of others; she only cared about Xu Qingqiong’s opinion of her.

“Exactly. It’s the same for me,” Xu Qingqiong said softly.

From Lin Konglu’s perspective, Ye Jianguo was selfish and egocentric. But to a stranger, no matter how inhuman Ye Jianguo was or how many misdeeds he committed, it had nothing to do with them; they could judge him from a detached, “God-eye” view.

However, Lin Konglu saw it from her own lived reality, so she naturally felt that everything Ye Jianguo received was deserved.

As for Xu Qingqiong, she only looked at the world through Lin Konglu’s eyes. Since Lin Shuhai harbored ill intentions toward Lin Konglu and was not a good person, she naturally felt he was no good either.

She only cared about Lin Konglu’s feelings.

Xu Qingqiong looked at her, but before she could finish her thought, she was suddenly at a loss: “Why are you crying again?”

Lin Konglu’s expression remained relatively calm, but her tears seemed unstoppable.

It was a strange sight to see Lin Konglu crying so calmly. It felt as if some disguise had been dropped in an instant; the distance between them closed—nearer, and nearer still.

Xu Qingqiong said helplessly, “Why are you such a crybaby?”

Lin Konglu turned her head away. Even as tears welled in her eyes, she stubbornly insisted, “I’m not. I’m not crying.”

Xu Qingqiong: “…”

She stared quietly at Lin Konglu’s profile. For a split second, a hazy silhouette flashed through her mind, overlapping perfectly with the scene before her.

She instinctively reached out her hand to wipe away the tears. She couldn’t help but ask, “Do we have any photos together from before?”

Lin Konglu nodded: “Yes. Do you want to see them?”

Lin Konglu stood up and led her to the study.

The album was on one of the shelves, not particularly conspicuous, but easy enough to find if one was looking.

Xu Qingqiong silently reproached herself. Looking back now, she really had overlooked so many details.

Lin Konglu took the album down.

Xu Qingqiong had assumed “photos together” meant a private shot of the two of them, but when she opened the album, she found a group photo from some school sports meet or reading event.

In the crowd, Xu Qingqiong was laughing at something in the distance. At the exact moment the photo was snapped, Lin Konglu was looking sideways at her. That moment was frozen in time.

In the photo, both of them looked youthful and green. Though it was only half of a profile, the moment Xu Qingqiong saw it, she felt a physical jolt.

She remained silent for a few seconds: “This is you, isn’t it?”

In truth, she didn’t even need the photo to know the answer. That tearful face had, in an instant, merged with an image that had frequently appeared in her mind over the years.

Like a long-lost fragment of memory suddenly snapping back into place, everything aligned.

Xu Qingqiong froze. After a long silence, she whispered tentatively, “I think… I didn’t actually forget you.”

Lin Konglu froze as well. Her expression went blank for a moment, as if she couldn’t process the meaning of the words, or perhaps she was too stunned by the revelation to react.

Xu Qingqiong found herself speaking more fluently as she went on: “I didn’t forget you completely.”

“I can’t say I remember everything perfectly, but I occasionally dream of certain fragments, though they were always blurry. I tried to see them clearly, but I never succeeded…” It was as if everything had been covered by a layer of fog.

“A dream I have often is being on campus. You and I are sitting by the sports field; you’re crying, and I’m trying to comfort you, and then…”

Sharing one’s inner feelings is always embarrassing. Xu Qingqiong suddenly stopped as she reached the next part of the memory.

Just then, Lin Konglu leaned in again: “And then what?”

Xu Qingqiong slowly turned her head to look at her: “And then… then…”

The corners of Lin Konglu’s eyes were still tinged with red, like a light smudge of rouge.

In an instant, the image in her mind found its anchor, becoming clear and certain. The scene in the dream that she had wanted to see but never could was now fully realized.

Xu Qingqiong stared into her eyes and whispered, “Come closer.”

Xu Qingqiong leaned in and kissed her eyes gently. “It was… something like that.”

Lin Konglu: “Anything else?”

Xu Qingqiong lowered her eyes, her lashes trembling. She found it difficult to speak: “Some…” They were scenes hard to put into words.

She suddenly didn’t know how to describe them—those unspeakable feelings and heart-fluttering moments that frequently appeared in her dreams were memories buried in the deepest recesses of her heart. But they were indeed very difficult to say out loud.

She hesitated: “There are some other things, but…”

The rest of her sentence was lost in a kiss. Lin Konglu suddenly pressed forward, her warm kiss surging like a melting tide, wave after wave.

“Was it like this?”

Xu Qingqiong nodded: “…Yes.”

Lin Konglu: “Anything else?”

Xu Qingqiong shook her head.

Before today, she hadn’t even known it was Lin Konglu. Those scattered fragments were like floating debris—appearing occasionally, but mostly impossible to catch. If Lin Konglu hadn’t confessed today, she likely wouldn’t have realized for a long time that the silhouette in her memory was Lin Konglu all along.

Lin Konglu spoke: “That’s nothing.”

Xu Qingqiong: “Hmm?”

Lin Konglu raised her hand and looked at her intently. Her fingertip brushed the skin at the corner of Xu Qingqiong’s eye, leaving a faint, ticklish sensation: “My imagination was far more excessive than yours.”

Xu Qingqiong was a bit dazed by the emotion in her voice. She instinctively tilted her head, and the album in her hand accidentally flipped to the next page. Xu Qingqiong looked down and suddenly froze.

Xu Qingqiong: “What is this?”

The latter part of the album was filled with photos of everyday scenes. They looked so mundane that they almost had no artistic value—there seemed to be no reason to keep them in an album.

But what astonished Xu Qingqiong was that these scenes were all so familiar. One was of a long street hung with red lanterns and lined with stalls.

Xu Qingqiong remembered this—a local New Year’s fair. Her landlord had invited her to go.

She hadn’t been very interested but didn’t want to decline the kindness, so she agreed. The fair had been boring; she had found a bench in a corner to sit and watch people interact.

Another photo showed a circular fountain with a wooden bench nearby and a few pigeons strolling on the ground. It was a place where she often went to sit in the afternoons.

There was also a photo of a lawn. Most lawns look the same, but this one featured a white angel statue. One of the angel’s wings had a small chip in it. Xu Qingqiong recognized it instantly—it was the lawn next to the house where she had lived. That chip on the wing had been caused by the landlord’s dog when it was a mischievous puppy. Xu Qingqiong used to take that dog for walks there.

These photos carried such a strong, familiar sense of her daily life that they were impossible to ignore.

She had a suspicion and turned to Lin Konglu: “What are these?”

Lin Konglu said softly: “I took all of them. Actually… I went to see you secretly many, many times.”

Xu Qingqiong: “But why didn’t I know…”

Most of the time, they had just passed each other by. Lin Konglu would watch her from a distance, occasionally trying to move a bit closer, only to retreat in hesitation.

Because Xu Qingqiong didn’t know her. To Xu Qingqiong, Lin Konglu was just an irrelevant stranger. To approach abruptly would only cause resentment.

But even that was enough for Lin Konglu.

“You probably don’t remember, but the only time you spoke to me was on a rainy day. You gave me an umbrella and walked back in the rain yourself.”

“Why were you willing to give me your umbrella? Was it because I was even a little bit different in your heart? Even just a tiny bit?”

“There was another time when a girl stopped you to confess her feelings, and you rejected her without any hesitation.”

“I was thinking then: what if I rushed up and confessed to you at that moment? Would the result have been different? Would you have said yes?”

“Did you know that someone was always watching you? Did you know someone was always in love with you? Did you know that person was me?”

“When will you finally notice me?”

“When can I finally have you?”

When you love someone, possessiveness grows. Those dense, dark emotions spread and linger in the heart, often enough to drive a person mad.

Xu Qingqiong had never expected her to suddenly say such things.

In her impression, Lin Konglu didn’t seem like the type to proactively say things about love; even expressing affection seemed shy and easy to miss.

Xu Qingqiong had thought before that the feelings between them weren’t quite equal.

She thought she liked Lin Konglu more, because while Lin Konglu responded to her confessions, she rarely initiated expressions of love. Such blunt, direct declarations were even rarer.

But Xu Qingqiong suddenly realized now that Lin Konglu’s feelings for her were likely far deeper and more inseparable.

At the very least, her own current level of affection couldn’t compare.

If there was an inequality in their feelings, she was probably the one who loved less.

Lin Konglu pursed her lips. She had spoken those words with a sense of reckless abandonment, only now realizing how they might sound: “…Is that a bit frightening?”

Xu Qingqiong shook her head: “No.”

She pondered for a few seconds and then said firmly: “No.”

From her perspective, the love Lin Konglu gave her wasn’t aggressive at all. Most of the time, it was like slowly flowing water—gentle and warm. If she hadn’t looked closely, she would have missed it entirely.

Perhaps such intense emotion naturally carries negative weight—those feelings that were suppressed, confined, and unreleased. Lin Konglu had carried all of that alone, while Xu Qingqiong had only ever felt the love.

Lin Konglu suddenly added: “I was very scared today.”

“When I was waiting for you this morning and you didn’t come, people were passing all around me. I stood there alone, and for a moment, I had the illusion that this was the true reality—that you wouldn’t come for me, and that I was actually at this music festival all by myself. This feeling happens occasionally; sometimes when I come home from work and open the door to an empty room, I feel a deep sense of dread. Only the moment I see you do I feel a sense of sudden reality.”

“But only now, it seems, can I truly be certain—this is real. This isn’t a dream.”

Lin Konglu looked up at her: “You’re still here. You’re right here.”

Lin Konglu’s words seemed to be about today’s festival, but they felt more like a casual reflection on her entire past life.

Xu Qingqiong’s heart felt as if it had been gently brushed, overflowing with an indescribable ache.

While she hadn’t known, Lin Konglu had spent a long time keeping watch alone, not knowing if there would ever be an end or a result. And yet, she summarized it all with such simple words.

Xu Qingqiong remained silent for a long time.

Lin Konglu softly called her back: “Sister?”

Xu Qingqiong snapped out of it. Outside, the sky had quietly darkened. Hazy light filtered through the glass, and dust motes danced in the air. The soft, white light illuminated the room and fell across Lin Konglu’s face.

Xu Qingqiong smiled and took her hand: “Mhm. From now on, I will always be here.”