You Should’ve Said Earlier that you’re Such a Little Flirt! - Chapter 57

Lin Konglu had quickly composed her emotions.

Only the rims of her eyes remained red, a silent testament to what had just occurred. Although she had witnessed such scenes a few times before and considered herself somewhat accustomed to them, seeing such a sight still sent a jolt of shock through her every time.

Watching her, Xu Qingqiong couldn’t resist pressing her palm against Lin’s cheek, using the pad of her thumb to gently brush against her damp, dark lashes.

At that slight touch, the lingering flush at the corners of Lin’s eyes flared up again, vivid and intense. Looking at a face like hers, one would naturally expect her to be cold and detached. Yet, this striking contrast instead ignited a flicker of flame in Xu’s heart.

Any emotional turbulence related to her could bring a torrential downpour upon Lin Konglu.

Lin’s fingers twitched back slightly, but her cheek leaned in, almost as if chasing the contact. Before Lin could look over, Xu Qingqiong swiftly averted her gaze and withdrew her hand.

She wanted to reclaim those memories.

A person is composed of countless fragments of memory; whether good or bad, they collectively form a whole being. She didn’t actually know if the memories involving Lin Konglu were happy or sad. It was simply that missing that segment left her feeling hollow, a sense of sadness rising from the depths of her heart. Xu Qingqiong couldn’t quite describe the feeling.

The more she realized something was missing, the more she yearned to find it.

But what she cared about more was the disparity in the feelings between her and Lin Konglu. When two people share a memory, it is a reminiscence; when one person carries the memories of two alone, the reminiscence becomes a burden. She didn’t want Lin Konglu to bear that memory in solitude.

Xu Qingqiong placed the box back. She carefully tucked the only photo she had found into her pocket and intended to keep searching. In truth, she hadn’t found anything from her junior high years in that box, and the likelihood of finding anything in the other boxes was slim.

Still, she didn’t want to give up.

The fruitless search made her a bit anxious, especially now that she had found one photograph, and her movements inevitably grew hurried. The yellowed, brittle pages were exceptionally sharp; without realizing it, she sliced a wound into the pad of her index finger.

Lin Konglu suddenly pressed her hand down, saying softly, “Don’t look anymore.”

Xu Qingqiong looked up at her.

The pain in her finger arrived with a delay—a needle-like sting as bright red beads of blood welled up.

“Does it hurt?” Lin Konglu grasped her finger, her voice laced with anxiety.

“It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t hurt at all,” Xu Qingqiong blurted out instinctively.

In reality, it did hurt; the nerves in the fingertips lead straight to the heart. The pain from the wound seemed particularly sharp, nearly making her cry out. And yet, she claimed it didn’t hurt.

Xu Qingqiong froze, repeating those words under her breath in disbelief: “It doesn’t hurt…”

Lin Konglu didn’t believe her at all. Without hesitation, she immediately went downstairs to find a bandage from the medical kit. Fortunately, the cut wasn’t long, just unusually painful.

Lin Konglu helped her stop the bleeding and applied a band-aid. Seeing her sitting there in silence, Lin hesitated for a few seconds before speaking softly: “There’s no need to be in such a hurry. We have plenty of time.”

“I can wait. As long as you are always by my side.”

“Besides, you haven’t completely forgotten me, have you? You’ll remember one day.”

But Xu Qingqiong didn’t seem to hear a single word. She was stunned; she heard Lin Konglu’s voice hovering by her ear, but she couldn’t grasp the meaning.

She heard a bird fly past the window, the sound of wings slicing through the air. She heard the sound of dust motes swirling and settling. She heard the distant wind rustling the leaves, a soft sha-sha sound that resembled a round of applause.

Finally, she turned her head and looked at Lin Konglu. The sounds around her returned to focus. She saw Lin Konglu looking at her with an anxious expression, asking, “Sister, does it really hurt that much?”

In that second, time seemed to compress, becoming incredibly slow. So slow that, in an instant, she recalled almost every detail.

Xu Qingqiong stared at her blankly, then suddenly said out of nowhere, “Do you want some ice cream?”

Without waiting for Lin Konglu’s reply, she continued to herself, “Vanilla flavor. It’s delicious.”

“Want some?”

Familiar lines.

Lin Konglu had always remembered. The first time Xu Qingqiong ever tried to befriend her, she had stood before her holding two ice cream cones, a smile on her face, asking if she wanted one.

Lin Konglu froze, seemingly realizing something. Her pupils contracted in disbelief as she looked at Xu inquiringly.

Xu Qingqiong gazed at her, her tone carrying a hint of ease as she said, “I remembered.”

It was hard to describe; it was a miraculous moment. Those memories, which had remained a void no matter how hard she had tried to recall them before, now surfaced naturally in her mind as if they had never vanished. She had caught hold of a single fragment, like finally grasping the end of a tangled ball of yarn.

Consequently, all the memories linked together like a string of pearls. The knots that had troubled her were obediently smoothed out, and the blurring mists cleared, leaving everything vivid in her mind.

The most important memories she had forgotten were tied to the car accident, and the memory of that accident was linked to the sensation of pain. She had been so desperate to remember, but only now did she understand: pain was the key to awakening those memories.

Briefly revisiting the newly returned memories in her mind, Xu Qingqiong’s lips curled into a smile. She couldn’t help but laugh, teasingly saying, “I didn’t realize I was so thick-skinned back in junior high—actually blocking your path and insisting on treating you to ice cream.”

Lin Konglu threw her arms around her, burying her face in the crook of Xu’s neck.

“Do you remember everything?”

Xu Qingqiong shook her head honestly. “No.”

In truth, she had only recalled a few scattered fragments, and the timeline was somewhat jumbled. However, she had an intuition that this was only the beginning and that the rest would return soon. She had found the most critical thread in that messy ball of yarn; the return of the remaining memories should follow naturally—it was only a matter of time.

It was like a problem she had been stuck on for a long time without a clue, only to suddenly experience an unexpected and massive breakthrough.

Xu Qingqiong, who had been anxious just moments ago, now grew calm. She stroked Lin Konglu’s hair. Lin held her tightly, her arms locked firmly around Xu’s neck.

She was crying again.

Only this time, Lin Konglu finally stopped holding back her emotions, her shoulders heaving. It was the first time Xu had seen her cry so openly, with such profound sadness.

It was like a long-overdue catharsis.

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