Nurturing a rose will leave your fingers scarred, a testament to the thorns you try to tame.
She retracts her thorns, a deliberate act solely for her, yet the marks of their existence still linger on her fingertips.
Such a seemingly perfect woman, how could she be so blind to her worth and hesitant to embrace self-love?
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“Aunt Xu, I’m heading out.”
“Alright, drive carefully. The heat is quite strong today.”
“It’s fine, I’m taking my bike. It’s more convenient, and I enjoy the ride.”
As she spoke, the high sweep of her dark hair was the last thing visible before she disappeared through the doorway.
Moments later, a light and swift figure emerged from the heavy, imposing gates of the manor, riding a mountain bike with a camera bag slung across her back, a cool breeze heading towards the city’s vibrant center.
Early July in the capital, the three o’clock afternoon sun still radiated a heavy heat, the cicadas’ buzzing a relentless, almost feverish sound. On the street, a lone pedestrian held a parasol aloft while engaged in an animated phone call, their voice sharp with irritation, the summer heat amplifying their annoyance.
The clear ring of a bicycle bell broke the urban hum as it stopped in front of a bookstore named “Time.”
The soft click of a camera shutter stirred the long-haired ragdoll cat, Mianmian, who was dozing languidly on a white wooden lounge chair just outside the entrance.
It lazily opened its eyes, its dark, round pupils flicking a dismissive glance at the black lens before shifting to the person behind it. A subtle twitch of its whiskers betrayed its annoyance. Just as it seemed poised to protest, a shadow fell over its head. A hand descended, surprisingly cool against its fur, like a refreshing touch in the heat.
This person was tall and slender, a white baseball cap pulled low, obscuring most of their face, revealing only a pair of pale, subtly defined lips. They wore a loose, simple white t-shirt, black cropped cargo pants that hinted at a lean form, and low-cut Martin boots adding a touch of understated coolness.
She stroked the cat’s soft head, her touch lingering for a brief, almost intimate moment. “Good afternoon, Mianmian.”
This person possessed a voice that was clear yet held a certain depth, not overtly lively, but with a cool, almost reserved quality, like a refreshing summer drink with a subtle kick.
“Meow~”
Mianmian flicked its head, and as the hand withdrew, a soft chuckle escaped her lips. She stepped into the bookstore, the wind chimes by the door offering a delicate, welcoming sound.
Calling it just a bookstore felt incomplete. It was a haven that also offered quiet study spaces, comfortable reading nooks, and a small, whimsical area for children.
She held the baseball cap in her hands, her long, elegant fingers resting on the brim. She offered a slight nod to the girl seated behind the counter, her eyes holding a calm detachment, her face pale and refined. Without a smile, she projected an air of cool elegance.
“Time” was staffed by only three individuals. Besides the one engrossed in a book behind the counter, the other two greeted the newcomer with warm, genuine smiles.
“Livia, you’re as punctual as ever today.”
“What literary escape are you seeking within our pages this time?”
“Time” adhered to a rather unique custom. Here, Chinese names were set aside. Every first-time visitor would draw a slip, and the English name they received would become their identifier, granting them instant membership.
“I’ll browse for a while.” She returned their nods with a subtle, almost imperceptible movement, and moved deeper into the quiet aisles.
She was a familiar presence, a regular whose quiet intensity the staff had come to expect. They knew her routine: every Saturday afternoon, she would seek refuge within their book-lined walls.
They exchanged knowing glances, a small, understanding smile passing between them, before returning to their tasks. Just then, one of the girls softly called out to the other, her gaze still following the tall, retreating figure. “Who is that lady? Her eyes are mesmerizing.”
“They’re such a striking blue. Is she mixed? Perhaps… Russian?”
“And she’s so tall, definitely around 1.8 meters. Could she be a model?”
The employee smiled, confirming only the first observation. “You mean Livia? Yes, her eyes are truly captivating, a perfect echo of her English name.”
“Time” possessed a subtle enchantment, a quiet magic that lingered in the air. Those who spent an afternoon within its walls, leaving as the evening light softened, often carried a dreamy quality, imbued with the subtle scent of paper and ink.
“This is your choice?”
The girl behind the counter placed her own book down, her thin eyelids lifting to meet the gaze of the tall, ethereally cool woman before her. Her eyes then drifted to the book presented to her, a soft murmur escaping her lips. 《A Dog Suspects a Cosmic Conspiracy to Usurp Its Place》 (Note 1), “You have… unexpected tastes.”
She stood there, her gaze steady and direct, and simply stated, “Please ring me up.”
The barcode scanner emitted a soft beep as it registered the book.
“29.9.”
After the transaction, the tall woman remained standing there, a subtle tension lingering in the air between them.
Five silent minutes passed before the girl behind the counter broke the unspoken stillness, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She bent down, retrieving a magazine from a drawer, and placed it on the counter with a slight gesture. “Fu Chi, don’t expect me to hold onto this for you next time. Come buy it yourself. It’s becoming a habit I’d rather break.”
“Then you can also handle securing your own concert tickets.”
“…You’re quite something. Your dedication to Pei Lingchu must be unwavering, making me your magazine proxy for five years straight.”
A subtle curve touched the corners of the tall woman’s otherwise straight lips, a fleeting hint of amusement. Her elegant fingertips pressed lightly on the magazine before she slowly placed it in the paper bag.
“Indeed.”
That evening, within the sleek elegance of a high-rise apartment, warm, inviting light spilled into the night, casting soft shadows within. The indoor temperature was a perfectly cool embrace, the air a delicate blend of rich roses and fine wine, with a subtle, almost imperceptible sweetness, all underscored by the gentle strains of sophisticated music.
It was a jewelry launch event, a gathering of understated glamour and hushed admiration.
Amidst the softly murmuring crowd, the solitary figure in a flowing white gown seated by the window exuded a quiet radiance. A closer look revealed the subtle glances cast her way—admiring, curious, perhaps even a touch envious.
Yet, an invisible air of composure seemed to keep them at a respectful distance.
Pei Lingchu remained seemingly detached from the subtle currents of the room, leaning back with an air of quiet contemplation on a small corner sofa. A glass of pale golden champagne rested in her hand, the tiny bubbles rising and falling like fleeting thoughts. She didn’t drink, merely held it, the glass reflecting the soft, opulent lights.
Her exquisite face was mirrored in the cool expanse of the window.
Deep-set eyes that hinted at untold stories, a high, elegant nose, long hair swept up into a sophisticated knot, revealing a flawless forehead. With each subtle movement, the diamond tassel earrings at her earlobes caught the light, accentuating the graceful lines of her neck and shoulders.
The corner was softly lit, yet she seemed to possess an inner luminescence, the silk of her white dress enhancing her cool, refined beauty. The delicate curve of her calves was just visible beneath the flowing hem.
However, her gaze was distant and unfocused, fixed on the glittering cityscape beyond the glass, lost in a private reverie.
Her heel slowly slipped out of her high-heeled shoe, a momentary act of unspoken relief. Then, perhaps sensing the subtle impropriety, she slid it back in, the slight friction against her skin a barely perceptible discomfort.
Pei Lingchu’s dark brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, a fleeting shadow of something crossing her features. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving her expression once again smooth and composed. She exhaled softly, her long lashes fluttering down, lending a momentary softness to her sharp angles. A subtle weariness touched her eyes as she raised a delicate finger to press the corner of her lips, easing a hint of tension.
Just then, a captivatingly smooth female voice drifted from the side, accompanied by the soft, confident click of high heels on the polished floor. The very sound of the footsteps conveyed a sense of poised determination.
“Lingchu, why are you keeping to yourself over here? Tonight, you are the radiant center of our attention. And speaking of radiance, that lipstick color is exquisite on you. Hmm, weren’t you always inclined towards softer hues? What inspired this vibrant choice?”
The subtle weariness that had clung to Pei Lingchu seemed to recede like a gentle wave at the sound of that voice.
