After Being Betrayed by Bai Yueguang, She Said She Wanted to Keep Me as a Mistress (Pure Yuri) - 09 Ice Cream Cone Theory

09 Ice Cream Cone Theory 

One cup of milk tea, two straws. But they drank from the wrong ones. 

They meant to buy two cups. But the stall was too crowded. And the vendor ran out of ingredients. Neither liked the other menu options, so they settled on sharing one. 

Zhou Pinyue avoided drinking directly from bottles. It was after she learned that people spit back a bit when drinking, contaminating the liquid with bacteria. Which made drinks spoil faster. That was why she refused to indirectly kiss like her past self. 

Once, she didn’t mind the bacteria from her crush’s mouth—if they’d invade, she’d rather spoil sooner. 

Now, it felt awkward. Thinking it over, it wasn’t about eating someone else’s saliva but fearing someone eating hers. 

Why was she possessive over her own saliva?! 

Did she have narcissism? She sank into thought. 

The person beside her patted her. She pointed at the stage. 

“Hey, it’s Sensei Silver Mushroom.” 

The fan festival always had a cosplay contest. It was likely the last event before closing. 

“Hm? Who?” 

“That artist who nails Mei—so accurate.” 

“You’re really into Mei.” 

“Jealous?” 

Cheng Yafei teased. 

Zhou Pinyue stared quietly at her until she cleared her throat awkwardly: “Just kidding.” 

“Oh, then won’t Sister Mei get jealous seeing us together?” 

“Such an old gag.” 

“I’m not the one being cheesy.” 

How did someone like her have same-s3x experience? Was it legit? Hookups or a girlfriend? Deep in the closet, how do you date? Hiding from family was standard for lesbians. But Cheng Yafei probably didn’t even tell friends. Being her girlfriend must suck. Though you’d likely score some cash. 

Zhou Pinyue chuckled suddenly. 

That morning, Cheng Yafei asked about her monthly rent and utilities. She then sent the money, actually paying her, plus an extra five thousand. Five thousand! Many didn’t earn that in a month. She got it in one night, without fully doing her “job.” If she were in Cheng Yafei’s shoes, she’d only overlook a meal’s taste if it cost single digits. 

Capitalists were awful. 

But she wasn’t lying—she needed money,. So she accepted without protest. It was agreed. No harm done, just two months. It was like a side gig. On the subway later, she pondered: Taking money meant she couldn’t say things like “you’re begging me” anymore, right? 

Good thing she’d said it already—felt great, total win. 

Her savings weren’t bad. She’d done lots of part-time jobs in college, lived frugally, and had steady income after her career took off. She had occasional big payouts. But it wasn’t enough for a house. After buying one, she’d need retirement funds, emergency savings for illness, and more if living alone. Compared to those with aging parents and kids, it was easier. But middle age—caring for elders while stressing over children’s schooling—sounded unbearable. Being single was just a bit lonely. She needed extra prep for her future self. 

She’d even budgeted for a pet. She wanted a dog trained to eat her body if she died suddenly, so it wouldn’t rot. She’d serve her beloved companion (animal) one last time. 

“What’re you laughing at?” 

“You drank from my straw and didn’t notice.” 

“Oops… sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s too sweet anyway. You have it.” 

After that, the milk tea sat neglected. Poor milk tea. 

The stage was full of cosplayers. It was hard for Zhou Pinyue to see clearly. So she ended up watching Cheng Yafei, mainly the Band-Aid on her neck. 

It stood out more. It practically screamed cover-up. 

“You should’ve used powder or a scarf,” 

She’d suggested. But Cheng Yafei shot it down. 

“Powder won’t hide it, scarves are hot.” 

In a place like this, nobody stared at passersby. It was just a mosquito-bite-sized mark—leaving it alone made sense. A Band-Aid just drew curiosity. When she voiced this, Cheng Yafei frowned. 

“Can’t I have been a hostage in a bank robbery, cut by a robber’s knife?” 

“A cut wouldn’t be that small.” 

“You’re so nosy. I’m your boss, I’ll cover it how I want!” 

True, it was her neck. It was none of Zhou Pinyue’s business. 

The one more worried about showing a “cut” was probably the culprit. 

Zhou Pinyue realized she felt guilty. That mark was proof of her pettiness—hating her, sleeping with her for money, then doing violent things for revenge. What was she doing? 

Whatever. 

It wasn’t a reality show. People were complex. So what if she wasn’t upright? Her reputation wouldn’t collapse. 

The host tapped the mic. They announced the contest’s end. It was followed by a photo session. 

“Let’s go. Want ice cream?” 

“You really love sweets, huh.” 

She used to bring cake to school daily for breakfast. Wonder if she got cavities. 

“But that’s what dates are like,” 

Cheng Yafei said out of nowhere. 

Being with her was bad for the heart. It was like a clumsy writer who skipped setup and foreshadowing, jumping to the next plot point. 

“…So we’re on a date right now?” 

“You forgot? Besides the movie, you promised a date.” 

“I know,” 

Zhou Pinyue said. Her breathing was thrown off. It barely steadied. 

“I want lemon and vanilla.” 

“Got it, ordered. The shop’s across the street.” 

After placing the order, Cheng Yafei’s eyes curved. 

“Hey, heard of the ice cream cone relationship theory?” 

“What’s that?” 

“Some relationships are like a double-scoop ice cream, melting and mixing. It means both want to be alike, standing side by side, supporting each other equally. Others are like ice cream and cone, one holding the other. It means one revolves around the other.” 

Zhou Pinyue’s internet was fast. But she’d never seen this. 

“Never heard of it.” 

“‘Cause I made it up.” 

“Oh, you’re so talented.” 

“Which are we?” 

A creative way to ask, “What’s our relationship now?” 

But no need—she knew their deal. Or was she implying something? 

What if she said, “Neither”? Ice cream and cone, or another scoop. It had to be in the same dessert. Their situation was more like one scoop eaten, the other still churning in the machine. 

Maybe Cheng Yafei just blurted out a dream thought. There was no need to overthink. 

Plus, she didn’t want to be ice cream—too sugary, risked diabetes. 

After all these thoughts, Zhou Pinyue chose, 

“I don’t want to be ice cream.” 

As if expecting no real answer, Cheng Yafei said dramatically, 

“Fair, then I’ll eat you later.” 

“So cheesy…” 

At the shop across the street, a sudden downpour hit. 

No rain in the forecast, no dark clouds. But it poured fiercely. The shop’s narrow porch soon crowded. Since they had ice cream to eat, they stayed at the entrance. They were waiting for it to stop. 

They finished. 

The rain didn’t let up. 

The subway entrance was visible—less than thirty seconds if they ran. 

Zhou Pinyue was about to suggest dashing. It was when Cheng Yafei suddenly elbowed her. 

“Hey, remember that time after school when it poured? I covered you with my jacket, and only I caught a cold the next day.” 

It happened. Zhou Pinyue was shocked then. She thought even close bonds didn’t justify such obsessive sacrifice. Even between mother and child, she’d pity the mother for losing herself. 

But unearned kindness made her cling. 

“I remember. The next day was a mock exam, and you kept sneezing.” 

“What could I do?” 

“Don’t do that again.” 

“Come on, I was young. I thought it was cool, youthful. Plus, I don’t have a jacket now.” 

“How’s that youthful?” 

“Running in the rain, like in youth movies.” 

“You watch those cheesy teen romance films?” 

“No, like a group of friends running in the rain.” 

Zhou Pinyue couldn’t see the appeal of running in rain—soaked clothes, water in eyes, cold hair, likely catching a cold, and dirty rainwater. It looked cool on screen but sucked for the person— 

Her wrist was grabbed. 

“Rain’s lighter, quick, quick!” 

Yanked with near-slipping force, she was dragged from the porch. She was forced to run. The rough pavement saved her from face-planting. 

At the subway entrance, others from the porch saw them go. They rushed over while covering their heads. 

Her heart raced, startled. About to snap, she met a beaming smile. Cheng Yafei was smoothing her hair. She said, 

“See? Super youthful, right?” 

Nose, eyes, mouth—harmonious. It was “pure” by mainstream standards, smiling or not. But up close, her features had sharp edges, especially her eyes. 

One evening during self-study, a classroom light flickered overhead. Maybe the lighting made Cheng Yafei look brooding. Zhou Pinyue started sketching her profile without thinking—brow bone, nose, philtrum, lips, drooping lashes, a wary expression. At home, she used paints. She chose dark mossy green for the irises, like a snake’s eyes. 

Snakes seemed aggressive but were timid. 

Now, those eyes resembled nothing—black, not reddish or yellowish. They just gleamed. It baffled her. 

Was it friends running in the rain or a teen romance flick? 

“Let’s head home, change clothes?” 

Cheng Yafei offered her hand. Zhou Pinyue hesitated. She then took it. 

“Still going out for a date?” 

“Hmm, with this rain, maybe cook instead. By the way…” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I make… one more R-rated request?”