ALSACW – Chapter 59

What was Yun Chuji thinking?

Generally speaking, a person does something foolish for one of two reasons: either they are a foolish person, or they are possessed by a passion strong enough to overwhelm their reason.

Yun Chuji was currently trapped in such a passion.

Or rather, she had been for a long time.

When she had to examine her former life with a so-called objective and neutral eye and label it “history”; when she thought she could have a new and wonderful family in this era, only to discover that a person who has already grown up can never truly integrate into a new family, no matter how wonderful it is—that was when she knew her life had fractured after her death.

Yun Chuji acknowledged her isolation. She knew it was the price of a new life, and she didn’t hypocritically blame fate. On the contrary, she was actively adapting to this era, cutting away the parts of herself that had suddenly become obsolete, piece by piece. She began to think, and in her thoughts, she ruminated on herself countless times.

She began to strive for the sake of others’ fates.

Yet she couldn’t resist doing something foolish: searching her entire body to see what, besides the self-awareness that 【I am Yun Chuji of the Great Liang Dynasty】, she had brought with her from that familiar world.

Perhaps just a small patch of skin, a trivial birthmark, a barely noticeable mole.

This, of course, had nothing to do with reason. It was simply because Yun Chuji had discovered, to her great pain, that she had almost no other way to prove her past sixteen years had existed. Even the history she remembered so clearly had become a blur of fact and fiction due to the loss of records.

No wonder Tang Jianxi had suspected she was a second personality of the original owner.

Yun Chuji was like a kite that had been tossed by the wind for too long, desperate to find a tree branch to rest on. She worried that if she kept flying, she might break.

But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. She hadn’t missed a single spot—well, except for that one organ she could never possibly possess—but the result was always the same: this was a body born in the ABO era.

She’s doing something pointless. That was Yun Chuji’s first thought as she picked up the device and touched it to her forehead.

Yet she persisted.

And so, it was a pointless act of self-torture.

Yun Chuji let out a long breath, got dressed, and thoroughly cleaned and disinfected the scanner. She planned to ask Tang Jianxi if she could buy it from her. Of course, given their relationship, Jianxi would probably just give it to her, and given their relationship, she would probably accept.

Just as some people use extreme sports to feel alive again, after this failed attempt at self-verification, she once again summoned her spirits to face this absurd fate.

Admit it. This is reality now. You have to live on as Yun Chuji.

You can only live on as Yun Chuji. The you from the past, just like the Yun Chuji from the past, is obsolete.

In truth, this was the tree branch she had been looking for.

Yun Chuji gripped the scanner tightly, a signature, gentle smile slowly appearing on her face.

Just then, the door opened.

Tang Jianxi strode in and said to her, “Stop smiling. It’s hideous.”

Yun Chuji stared at her blankly.

Tang Jianxi sat down beside her. Without looking at her, she gazed out the window at the small cluster of honeysuckle flowers. They were too far away to see clearly, just a hazy patch of white.

“I was just spying on you. I saw what you were doing,” she said honestly. “And I think I know what you were thinking.”

“Yun Chuji, do you know why I’m so sure you’re not the same Yun Chuji from before?”

“Your pheromones are different.”

“I mentioned this to you before, but you probably didn’t pay it much mind, or maybe you didn’t realize that in this era, pheromones are just as tangible as the body itself.”

Tang Jianxi turned her head and stared at the still-dazed face. “So, even though your body belongs to someone else, your pheromones belong to you.”

“And if that’s still not enough to make you feel a sense of belonging in this world,” Tang Jianxi’s eyelashes trembled, and she looked a little nervous, “then let me tell you one more thing.”

“I like you. The kind of like where I want to date you, or even marry you.”

“But if we’re talking marriage, I think it’s better to date properly first. But if you think dating is too frivolous, then I can accept getting married directly, too.”

“Ah, what am I saying? This is just a one-sided confession. Ah, anyway, what I mean is, if you want me to belong to you, then I will belong to you.”

“You don’t have to be so lonely—yes, that’s it.”

After blurting out this long speech, Tang Jianxi stood up, desperate to leave. It was too embarrassing.

A desperate confession made just to cheer someone up.

Ugh. How did I, Tang Jianxi, become so lovesick?

Tang Jianxi lowered her head and started to walk out, only to hear the person in question reply in a dazed, hesitant voice, “Jianxi, are you just trying to comfort me?”

Tang Jianxi froze, a little angry.

Heaven knew how long she had spent outside that door steeling her resolve.

Tang Jianxi had never known that a feeling like compassion could deepen love.

From the moment she saw Yun Chuji in profile, even though she hadn’t said a word, Tang Jianxi had somehow understood her thoughts. It was then that she suddenly realized that what was a miracle for her might not be such a joyous event for Yun Chuji.

At the end of the day, she was just a sixteen-year-old girl from an ancient time, waiting for marriage. Before coming here, she hadn’t read many books, hadn’t traveled far from home, and had never even met a true stranger.

Yet everything in this era, including Tang Jianxi herself, was pushing her to grow up, and she was indeed obediently growing.

But that didn’t mean she was happy.

She could never be sure who she really was. She didn’t know if the eyes that looked at her were truly seeing her, or someone else, or if she was simply trying hard to become someone else.

Tang Jianxi turned these thoughts over and over in her mind. The more she thought, the heavier her heart became, yet she found a strange satisfaction in this weight, as if it were a burden shared from Yun Chuji.

So she decided to confess.

Of all the humanistic education Tang Jianxi had received, the one principle she had never once doubted was this: love heals all.

She decided to stop with the subtle tests, to stop trying to coax out Yun Chuji’s love before carefully offering her own. That was too petty.

Tang Jianxi confessed with courage.

Only after confessing did she realize it wasn’t a matter of being petty or not. It was that she was, quite simply, at a complete loss.

Was this act, so momentous for her, equally momentous for the other person?

The thought of it left her flustered.

Perhaps she had done something wrong, moved only by her own feelings.

Especially when she saw that Yun Chuji had no intention of answering, Tang Jianxi subconsciously thought, Alright, this is the worst-case scenario. I’ve troubled her.

But it turned out things could get even worse.

She didn’t believe her?

Tang Jianxi spun around, marched back menacingly, and planted a kiss right on that bewildered face.

“Believe me now?”

Then it occurred to her that, given this girl’s way of thinking, she might mistake it for some kind of sisterly peck.

Fired up by her own imagination, Tang Jianxi’s imposing manner intensified again, completely failing to notice that the other girl’s face was turning red at an alarming rate.

She bent down again, and this time, she kissed her on the lips.

She lingered for a moment, and as she pulled away, she even gave a little lick—ah, that was because she couldn’t help herself.

This time, Tang Jianxi noticed something was wrong, because the hands cupping Yun Chuji’s face felt like they were holding a torch.

Whoa, and her face was as red as a torch, too.

Tang Jianxi realized she might have messed up.

“I didn’t mean to be forward!”

“I’ve never kissed anyone else, either! I’m not a frivolous person! I just want to show you I’m serious!”

As she spoke, Tang Jianxi’s own face turned red.

Gradually, she trailed off. This position, at least, wouldn’t do. She was afraid she might kiss her again.

She straightened up, licked her lips in a way that drew Yun Chuji’s full attention, and repeated, “I like you. I just wanted to tell you that I like you.”

“I like the Yun Chuji from the Great Liang Dynasty.”

“…And, I hope hearing this makes you a little happier.”

Tang Jianxi wanted to cover her face, or her mouth, or maybe just bury herself in a hole.

What am I even saying? It’s not romantic or moving at all. I’m not Tang Jianshen, that thousand-year-old block of ice!

As for Yun Chuji, she felt none of this was real.

Tang Jianxi had suddenly run in and said she liked her.

Suddenly kissed her.

And suddenly said she liked her again.

Was it really just because she wanted to make her a little happier?

Yun Chuji didn’t understand. The romance movies she’d seen never depicted this kind of logic. They were all about angsty, profound love, or two people falling in love at first sight and living happily ever after.

Even in cases of unrequited love—

Yun Chuji glanced at Tang Jianxi’s face, which was more beautiful than all the omega protagonists in the movies combined, and felt this couldn’t possibly be her role to play.

Besides, who ever heard of such a blatant unrequited love!

Yes, Yun Chuji was flustered.

She felt she should say something to get everything back on track.

But to be honest, she did cherish that kiss.

Is it because I’ve started to like Jianxi, too?

But Jianxi is a girl!

Or perhaps, physical contact simply brought warmth, just as she always felt in Tang Jianxi’s embraces.

Yun Chuji struggled to speak. “But I…”

Tang Jianxi cut her off. Just hearing the word “but,” she had a good idea of what Yun Chuji was going to say. But surprisingly, she didn’t feel disappointed or resentful. In fact, who could possibly feel resentful toward a torch?

She said, “So, are you a little happier now?”

Yun Chuji paused, then slowly nodded.

Because of that honest gesture, Tang Jianxi kissed her again.

Yun Chuji: “Ah…”

A strange sense of triumph suddenly washed over Tang Jianxi, even though the other girl hadn’t accepted her confession or said she liked her back.

But she didn’t reject her. In fact, she rejected almost everyone except her.

So Tang Jianxi bent down again, looked into those misty eyes, and said, “You’re moving back to my place today, okay?”

“You have to treat my illness.”

“Besides, I have to pursue you, and it’ll be much more convenient if you’re living at my house.”

Unable to resist, Tang Jianxi reached out and gently rubbed Yun Chuji’s reddened eyelids. As it turned out, the world really did open up once you cast aside your shame.

She broke into a wide smile, more brilliant than the midday sun. “If you don’t say anything, I’ll take that as a yes.”

But how could Yun Chuji possibly speak? The mouth that had just kissed her was close enough to do it again.

She still didn’t understand.

What on earth was happening!

However, Tang Jianxi was right about one thing.

Yun Chuji truly didn’t reject her.

She was just very shy, very flustered, and very, very shy.

A long time passed. Tang Jianxi was no longer at that dangerous distance; she was now sitting on a sofa in the room, glancing up at her from time to time.

Just then, Yun Chuji asked, “What do my pheromones smell like?”

“Orchid,” Tang Jianxi answered almost instantly.

After that, Yun Chuji said no more. She just stared at the cluster of honeysuckle outside the window, as if trying to will it to either wither or grow taller with her gaze.

But Tang Jianxi knew. She had agreed to move back to her house.

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