But those were just fragments, flashing too quickly to grasp.
She composed herself, lightened her steps, and put on a cautious, professional smile again: "Guest? Are… are you alright?"
As she got closer, the smell of alcohol became more distinct.
The scent wasn't strong, but it was very unique—cool and crisp with a hint of warm sweetness, like wine brewed from plum blossoms blooming in the snow.
Jingliu put down the wine pot, its silver body particularly striking against her pale fingers.
She turned her head to look in Baiheng's direction, her black eye mask seeming to absorb all light under the dim yellow lamp.
"I'm fine."
Her voice sounded no different from usual, still cool and steady, except… it seemed to have a hint more of that slight hoarseness from being soaked in alcohol than before.
Baiheng breathed a sigh of relief, but then tensed up again—because Jingliu's fingers holding the wine pot were slightly white at the knuckles, as if she was gripping it harder than usual.
"Then… shall I lead you to a Guest room to rest?"
Baiheng tried to make her tone sound natural, "The beds are all clean. You can have a good rest tonight."
Jingliu was silent for a moment. Just as Baiheng thought she would simply nod as before, she suddenly moved.
She placed the wine pot on the small side table with a soft "tap".
Then, she stood up.
Her movements were still steady, her posture as straight as a sword, showing no sign of drunkenness.
But when she turned to face Baiheng and walked towards her, Baiheng, for some reason, instinctively took half a step back—not out of fear, but some kind of… primal reaction.
Jingliu walked very slowly, step by step, until she stopped less than a foot in front of Baiheng.
This distance was too close.
So close that Baiheng could clearly smell the wine mixed with Jingliu's own icy, snow-like aura, so close that she could see the subtle fabric texture at the edge of the black eye mask, and even feel the flow of air from Jingliu's breathing.
Baiheng's back stiffened slightly, and her smile faltered: "G-Guest?"
Jingliu didn't speak.
She merely tilted her head slightly, her
From her smooth forehead, to her round sunglasses… (Jingliu: Tsk)
Then to her perky nose, finally lingering on her lips.
Time seemed to freeze for a few seconds.
Then, before Baiheng could react at all, Jingliu suddenly leaned forward.
It wasn't a hug; it was more like leaning.
Her forehead gently rested against Baiheng's shoulder. A few strands of cool silver hair slipped down, brushing against Baiheng's neck, causing a subtle shiver.
"!"
Baiheng completely froze. Her blood seemed to rush to her head in an instant, and her cheeks and ears uncontrollably began to burn.
She could feel the other person's body temperature, slightly lower than normal, and their steady yet deep breathing.
"G-Guest?"
Her voice trembled slightly. Her hand lifted, hovering in mid-air, unsure whether to push away or… what to do.
Reason told her to immediately maintain distance, but her body was as if under a paralysis spell, unable to move.
Jingliu didn't respond.
She seemed to mumble something indistinctly, the syllables fragmented and lost in the subtle rustle of fabric and their intertwined breaths.
The voice was too soft, too blurry, carrying a rare tenderness after being infused with wine?
Baiheng couldn't be sure.
This leaning posture lasted only two or three short seconds.
Just as Baiheng's heart was about to leap out of her throat, Jingliu released her.
She stepped back, re-establishing the distance, her posture still perfectly straight, as if that momentary closeness was merely Baiheng's illusion.
Only her slightly averted head and those few strands of silver hair that had slipped from Baiheng's shoulder, not yet fully returned to place, proved that it hadn't been an illusion.
"…"
Baiheng opened her mouth, her cheeks still burning, her mind a jumble.
Jingliu, however, had already returned to her usual demeanor, though the slight hoarseness in her voice seemed more pronounced: "A bit drunk."
She paused, then added, her tone as flat as if stating the weather: "Lead the way."
It took Baiheng a full two seconds to recover from that helpless embarrassment and shock.
"Oh… oh! Y-Yes! This way, please!"
She quickly turned, her steps a little disorganized, and walked towards the Guest room, not daring to look back.
Jingliu quietly followed a step behind her.
The motion-sensor lights in the Guest room corridor lit up with their footsteps.
Baiheng felt as if her back was being scorched by two calm, unruffled gazes. The small patch of skin on her shoulder, where Jingliu's forehead had rested, was still faintly warm, retaining the other person's slightly cool body temperature.
Her mind raced wildly:
(Drunk? Jingliu… can get drunk?)
(No, the way she was just now…)
(What did that mumble mean?)
She dared not think further.
Reaching the Guest room door, Baiheng reached out and pushed it open, stepping aside: "Guest, this is it. If you need anything, just call me."
The interior of the Guest room was, as the system said, simply and comfortably furnished.
A bed with plain cotton and linen sheets, a desk, a chair, and a wardrobe.
The window was open a crack, and the night breeze carried the fresh scent of plants from the courtyard.
Jingliu stood at the doorway, not entering immediately.
Her face was turned towards the room's interior, her black eye mask slowly sweeping over every corner, from the bed to the desk, then to the window.
Baiheng's heart tightened again.
(Did she discover something?)
However, Jingliu just stood quietly for a few seconds, then stepped inside.
Her steps were steady as she walked directly to the window, extended her hand, and her fingertips lightly brushed the window frame.
"It's very quiet," she suddenly said.
"Y-Yes, it is. This courtyard is in a secluded spot, so it's very quiet at night, perfect for resting!" Baiheng quickly interjected.
Jingliu said nothing more.
She turned, walked to the bed, and sat down, her hands naturally placed on her lap, maintaining that dignified sitting posture.
"Then… Guest, please get some rest. I won't disturb you any further."
Baiheng felt as if she had been granted a great pardon and quickly spoke, preparing to close the door and leave.
"Bai Heng," Jingliu suddenly called out, stopping her.
Baiheng paused: "…Yes?"
Jingliu "looked" at her, her voice exceptionally clear in the silent room: "I will leave tomorrow morning."
Baiheng's heart filled with joy and relief: "Ah… okay. You…"
"But,"
Jingliu interrupted her, her tone calm and unruffled, yet carrying an undeniable implication, "I might return."
Baiheng: "…"
Jingliu seemed not to need her answer, as she had already turned her face, looking out the window once more at the night sky dotted with a few sparse stars.
"Close the door."
"…Yes, please rest well."
Baiheng softly replied, slowly closing the door.
The heavy wooden door blocked the view and also isolated the cool scent of wine from the room.
Baiheng leaned against the cold door panel, silently exhaling.
She raised her hand, touching her still-flushed cheeks, then touched her shoulder where Jingliu's forehead had rested.
A faint cool sensation seemed to linger there, along with a wine-infused murmur.
(She'll return…)
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