The warm lamplight fell over their overlapping figures, filling the small living room with a cozy glow.
Mu Wannuo’s fingertips were feather-light as she slowly dried Ning Chuxue’s soft hair, every motion so gentle it bordered on excessive, as if she were handling a precious treasure she had lost and found again.
She deliberately lightened her touch, patiently absorbing the lingering moisture from the strands, not daring to be quick or firm, afraid of causing the slightest discomfort to the young woman before her.
Ning Chuxue kept her long lashes lowered, standing obediently in place.
Her bath towel collar hung loose and slightly open, the warm air pressing against her skin, mingling with Mu Wannuo’s cool, clean scent, tangling together until it made her heart flutter uneasily.
She had originally planned to dry her own hair.
But meeting Mu Wannuo’s focused, tranquil gaze—a gaze that held only her and no one else—all the words of refusal lodged in her throat.
In the quiet air, only the faint rustle of fabric against strands could be heard.
After a long while, once Mu Wannuo confirmed most of the moisture was gone, she set down the towel and picked up the small hair dryer that had been prepared on the table.
The air temperature was low, a gentle setting she had specifically adjusted.
“Don’t be scared, it won’t be loud.”
She lowered her head and whispered reassurance, as if afraid the machine’s hum might startle Ning Chuxue.
“Mm.”
Ning Chuxue answered softly.
The warm breeze swept through, silver-white hair lifting slightly before falling gently, brushing over slender shoulders—soft, ticklish.
Mu Wannuo’s fingers wove between the strands, combing through section by section, drying each one meticulously from root to tip, without a single careless spot.
Her gaze never left the crown of Ning Chuxue’s head, her profile, her small earlobes—focused almost to the point of stubborn obsession.
Hidden deep in her eyes was a possessiveness and sense of security that no outsider could understand.
—Thank goodness.
Thank goodness Chuxue was still here.
Thank goodness no matter how viciously they argued or how stiffly things got, this light she had fought with everything to protect would always return to her side in the end.
Only when the ends were completely dry did Mu Wannuo switch off the dryer, setting the device aside casually.
The room fell back into silence.
Ning Chuxue looked up slightly and accidentally met those gentle, deep eyes.
There was no coldness from their earlier argument, no interrogation, no pressure—only overflowing indulgence and softness.
So gentle it made her heart soften involuntarily.
And so gentle it made her fear with even clearer clarity.
“All done.”
Mu Wannuo spoke softly, her fingertips unconsciously twining around a strand of the dried hair, reluctant to let go.
“You won’t catch a cold now.”
“Thank you, Sister Mu Wan.”
Ning Chuxue thanked her in a small voice, instinctively stepping back half a pace to put a little distance between them.
It was that subtle retreat.
The warmth in Mu Wannuo’s eyes dimmed, almost imperceptibly, for a single instant.
It was faint, incredibly quick—nearly impossible to catch.
But Ning Chuxue caught it.
Her heart tightened slightly, and she immediately stopped her backward movement, standing frozen and at a loss, terrified of upsetting her again.
Seeing her instantly tense up, that cautious, fragile look, Mu Wannuo’s heart softened—a mixture of frustration and helplessness.
Frustrated that she always wanted to run.
Helpless because no matter how angry she got, she could never truly push her even an inch.
“Avoiding me?”
Mu Wannuo leaned down slightly, bringing her gaze level with Ning Chuxue’s, her voice soft with a hint of aggrieved hoarseness.
“I’m not!”
Ning Chuxue shook her head immediately, her eyes flustered.
“I just… I was standing too long and wanted to move.”
A clumsy lie.
Mu Wannuo saw through it at a glance but didn’t call it out.
She simply watched the young woman nervously dodging and struggling to cover her tracks, and after a few seconds of silence, murmured softly: “Chuxue, can you stop always trying to push me away?”
Those words were too soft.
Soft like a sigh, yet heavy enough to press down on one’s chest.
Ning Chuxue went momentarily speechless, her lips parting but no words coming out.
She wanted to explain that she wasn’t pushing her away.
But she knew very clearly—
She did want to run, wanted freedom, wanted friends besides the ones they shared, wanted a life that wasn’t arranged and controlled.
But the moment those words left her mouth, it would be a fresh rupture.
Seeing her silence, the shadows in Mu Wannuo’s eyes deepened.
She reached out and gently took hold of Ning Chuxue’s cool wrist, her grip tender yet unyielding.
“Don’t leave tonight, okay?”
The rental apartment had only two bedrooms. One was the master bedroom where Mu Wannuo normally rested—clean and soft, the bedding carrying the warm scent of sun-dried linen.
The other was an empty spare room, barely furnished, completely unsuitable for sleeping.
The answer went without saying.
Ning Chuxue’s cheeks flushed slightly as she hesitated in a small voice: “I… I can sleep on the sofa too… the sofa is soft enough.”
“The sofa will make you cold.”
Mu Wannuo dismissed it directly, her tone gentle but firm.
“The temperature drops at night, and you have a weak constitution. You can’t risk the chill.”
“But sleeping together—”
“I won’t touch you.”
Mu Wannuo looked at her, her gaze clear and serious, as if making a promise.
“I just want to watch you sleep. I only need to confirm that you’re safe and sound somewhere I can see you. That’s enough.”
Those words shattered Ning Chuxue’s composure completely.
She could tell.
All of Mu Wannuo’s stubbornness tonight, all her closeness, all her careful delicacy—none of it was malice.
It was fear.
It was the deep unease of someone terrified of losing her again.
The image of her turning and running away the day they fought, the empty campus under the heavy rain, the panic of a phone that wouldn’t connect—all of it was carved into Mu Wannuo’s heart.
So now, she only wanted to keep her locked within her sight, locked somewhere she could reach.
Ning Chuxue bit her lower lip, and in the end, her heart softened.
“…Then, promise me, no moving around.”
“Okay.”
Mu Wannuo answered instantly, a faint smile lighting up her eyes, like a child who had been comforted, obedient to a fault.
She took Ning Chuxue’s cool wrist and led her step by step into the master bedroom.
The bedroom was equally clean and simple, a faint fragrance lingering in the air. The bedding was fluffy and warm, clearly pre-warmed with the heater.
Every detail was carefully prepared.
Nothing was coincidental.
Mu Wannuo released her hand, got onto the bed first, and sat against the headboard. Then she gently lifted the blanket and looked at the nervous young woman standing by the bedside.
“Come up.”
Ning Chuxue took a deep breath, as if summoning tremendous courage, and quietly bent down to slip into the covers.
The blanket was warm, enveloping her entirely in a gentle heat.
The bed was large enough for both of them to stay completely apart, each on their own side.
But in the small bedroom, the enclosed space, the silent night, the sound of two people’s breathing was clearly audible.
The distance was close—close enough to be ambiguous, close enough to make one tense.
The moment the lights went out, the room sank into a soft darkness.
Outside the window, the wind and rain had yet to cease, pattering against the glass with a faint rustle.
Inside the window was stillness, warmth, and an airtight sense of security.
The two kept to their own sides, seemingly at peace.
After an unknown amount of time, just as Ning Chuxue was beginning to relax and drift toward sleep—
The person beside her suddenly turned over, very quietly.
A faint shadow slowly drew closer.
The next moment, a warm hand, carefully and with extreme restraint, lightly settled on her waist—so light, so shallow, without overstepping, merely encircling an inch of space in a gesture of confirmation.
As if afraid of disturbing her sleep, and afraid that if she let go, she would vanish.
In the darkness, Mu Wannuo’s voice was hoarse and low, pressed against her ear, murmuring softly.
“Chuxue… don’t leave me again.”