Amnesia Trap (GL) - Chapter 67

Sheng Zhi carried the glass of prepared cold medicine back.

Ji Qingfan was still sitting on the sofa, but she had shifted into a posture with her legs tucked against her chest. Her long hair cascaded down like dark ink, her eyes were slightly lowered, and she looked visibly dejected.

…Had she been stung by her words?

At the thought of what she had just said, Sheng Zhi felt a sharp pang in her own heart. Her lips moved, opening and closing silently for a few seconds before she finally managed to get out: “Drink the medicine first.”

“I’m not drinking it,” Ji Qingfan’s voice was low, and her gloom didn’t seem like an act. “Since Jiao Jiao doesn’t care about me anyway, why bother whether I take medicine or not? If I have a cold, I have a cold. I don’t need Jiao Jiao to take responsibility.”

Her tone was muffled. As she spoke, she buried her face in her arms, looking utterly aggrieved.

Sheng Zhi’s gaze froze, not expecting this kind of reaction from Ji Qingfan. She didn’t speak, and Ji Qingfan didn’t say anything further. The atmosphere fell into a sudden silence.

Sheng Zhi’s eyes lingered on Ji Qingfan as she reached up to touch her hair. One moment, she thought Ji Qingfan’s reaction was suspicious; the next, she felt she had been far too excessive. Ji Qingfan had it so hard—getting sick because of her “recklessness” only to be met with cold words. How pitiful.

She couldn’t help but call her name: “Ji Qingfan…”

But before she could say more, she was interrupted: “Jiao Jiao doesn’t care about me, I know. So just leave me alone. I’ll get over my feelings by myself in a while.”

Those icy words were indeed her own, spoken just moments ago. Sheng Zhi wanted to maintain that persona to the end, but looking at Ji Qingfan like this, she couldn’t move an inch.

“But your cold is because I was too… out of control. I should…” she started again, her voice soft.

“It’s not because you care about me. If it’s just out of a sense of responsibility, Jiao Jiao doesn’t need to be responsible.” Her tone remained low, sounding deeply hurt.

Sheng Zhi felt inexplicably at a loss.

‘Care about.’

She chewed on those words, looking at her dejected form, and a suspicion more absurd than absurdity itself popped into her head.

Could it be that… it wasn’t just her? Could Ji Qingfan actually feel a little bit of…?

She hadn’t wanted to develop feelings for her precisely because she thought everything was a lie. But what if Ji Qingfan wasn’t faking?

The moment the thought appeared, she froze completely. She had never considered this—or rather, it wasn’t that she hadn’t considered it, but that she had instinctively deemed it impossible and discarded it.

Could she believe it? After all, she had fallen hard because of this person years ago. But Ji Qingfan’s current emotional state looked, by all accounts…

Her heart began to thrum like a drum again at this suspicion. It was so intense she felt dizzy, the blood rushing to her head.

She didn’t sit next to Ji Qingfan; perhaps her brain was so short-circuited by the “fireworks” of that theory that she couldn’t react properly. She simply squatted by the sofa, legs together, blinking as she tried to find an angle from below to meet her eyes.

When she couldn’t find one after a long time, she dejectedly tugged at the hem of Ji Qingfan’s nightgown. “Look at me.”

She tugged very lightly, but the person being tugged shuddered.

“Jiao Jiao wasn’t looking at me just now, either.”

The lingering nasal congestion made her voice sound even more piteous. After that, no matter what Sheng Zhi said, Ji Qingfan ignored her.

Sheng Zhi felt as if an invisible hand were squeezing her heart.

“I’ll look at you from now on, okay?” She struggled to organize her words, finally squeezing out a promise.

After she said it, Ji Qingfan’s shoulders moved—a motion that looked suspiciously like a sob.

…???

Was she… crying?

Sheng Zhi’s cat-like eyes went wide. She let out a flustered “Aiya!” and said, “Are you a dummy? I… I was just talking in opposites earlier. How can you not tell when I’m being sarcastic?”

Seeing that Ji Qingfan’s shoulders were shaking even harder now, Sheng Zhi bit her lip and said with frantic regret, “I said it wrong. I’m the dummy, I’m the dummy. You’re not allowed to cry anymore.”

“…I don’t believe you. Unless Jiao Jiao kisses me.”

The voice was still muffled in her arms, but she revealed a small sliver of her jade-white, delicate profile.

With her thoughts still a chaotic mess, Sheng Zhi stood up and then leaned over, bracing herself against the edge of the sofa. Just as she gave a light, fleeting peck, Ji Qingfan turned her head to reveal the other half of her face.

She didn’t speak. But the meaning was clear… this side too?

Sheng Zhi leaned in and kissed her again.

Like a clam, Ji Qingfan closed up again after the kiss, the tremors in her shoulders and neck becoming even more pronounced.

How could she be crying even harder?

From this angle, she couldn’t see Ji Qingfan’s face. She reached out to brush aside her hair and saw her pearly-white ear hidden beneath. The earlobe was thin and delicate, matching her slender frame. Sheng Zhi rubbed it, called her name, and instinctively pressed her lips against it. Her voice was soft and airy: “Stop crying, please. I really was just being sarcastic…”

The second those distressed words left her mouth, she heard Ji Qingfan let out an irrepressible giggle.

Sheng Zhi raised her eyes, stunned.

Ji Qingfan tilted her head and looked at her from her arms. There wasn’t a single tear on those slightly red eyelids—only a shimmering, enchanting, and cunning smile.

She was as clear as spring water, yet as clever as a fox.

Thump. Her heart seemed to skip a beat—she was so beautiful when she smiled.

Sheng Zhi stood dazed for a moment before the realization hit, and her expression shifted.

…Fooled again. All her “spikes” had been put up for nothing.

“Jiao Jiao, you haven’t kissed me here yet.” Ji Qingfan lowered her legs and reached out to wrap her arms around her, her breath suggestively brushing against the corner of Sheng Zhi’s lips.

Sheng Zhi stared into those curved eyes. The softest, most harmless tongue and lips were the very things that reduced her to a chaotic, defeated mess.

An indescribable sense of disappointment suddenly spread through her. She couldn’t even say why she felt so let down. After all that, it was still an act…

But the suspicion that had taken root wouldn’t go away. No matter how she tried to brush it off, it remained. The seeds that had sprouted in her heart rustled, their buds beginning to swell.

The moist, soft kiss was intoxicating. Sheng Zhi’s heart raced, her lashes fluttering like butterfly wings.

…This is bad. How can she establish “tolerance” if she already feels she can’t build any? Can one really build a tolerance to something this comfortable?

Maybe she should change her plan—switch to confirming whether Ji Qingfan actually has any real feelings for her instead…

But thinking about it, it still felt a bit too magical. If she liked her, she should have liked her years ago. Instead, she had alienated her friends and provoked the people around her until they were sworn enemies. Even after the marriage, she was no different from a block of ice—a total “widowed” marriage.

The only plausible theory was that after acting for so long, she had started to blur the line between fake and real.

Is that it… could it be true?

She let her thoughts wander as she shamefully deepened the kiss. They kissed until their cheeks were equally flushed, until they were nearly breathless.

Only then was the cold medicine mentioned again.

Sheng Zhi pulled back and bit her lip slightly. “You haven’t taken the medicine yet. Hurry up.”

Ji Qingfan hummed a response, her voice still thick with a sticky, lingering breath. “But there’s so much water today…”

Sheng Zhi pressed a hand to her heated cheek, her gaze drifting toward the glass as she followed Ji Qingfan’s voice. She knew very well her hand had slipped when adding the water, turning a half-cup of medicine into a full one.

After staring at it for two seconds, she reached out and brought the glass over. “…Drinking more water speeds up metabolism. You’ll get better faster.”

“Then Jiao Jiao should have some too, to prevent getting infected.” Ji Qingfan’s arms were still around her, her posture lingering and weak.

As she spoke, her breath flowed warmly and steadily over Sheng Zhi’s neck, from bottom to top, a thin trail of vibrant floral marks stopping at the base of her ear. The subtle sound of moisture between their lips and teeth was magnified.

Lick, lick, like a small animal drinking water.

Sheng Zhi’s heart rate was becoming unhealthy; she felt as though she were being submerged in warm water, unable to resist. She somewhat helplessly pinched Ji Qingfan’s chin.

In truth, when it came to medicine, Sheng Zhi preferred pills and capsules. Granules weren’t her first choice, and she hated oral liquids even more—she’d rather have an injection. She didn’t know if this preference was so strong that she either didn’t get sick or, when she did, it was severe.

But… this cold medicine didn’t taste bad. It wasn’t heavy; in fact, there was a faint, clear sweetness in the exchange.

In the end, that full glass of medicine was essentially split between the two of them.