Future Love Contract (GL) - Chapter 11

Even long after, Zhao Xinyun still regretted it bitterly, wondering why she ever had the sudden idea to drag Gresya out for a run that day.

Of course, that was a joke.

Although Venus’s overall conditions were rather basic, this was still the world six hundred years in the future. And with Gresya’s resources, all sorts of fitness equipment were, naturally, standard in the apartment. At first, Zhao Xinyun went to work out every day—it was all very novel. But with the same machines every time, the excitement wore off quickly.

So she proposed a more primitive form of exercise to Gresya: running.

As for where to go running—obviously, the only option was the park. Honestly, this wasn’t very convenient at all. On Venus’s second base, going outdoors required wearing heavy protective suits. It was understandable for commuting, but running in that gear felt really awkward, and there wasn’t even a proper jogging track in the park.

Gresya, for her part, was thorough. She brought along all the potentially useful items, making up for Zhao Xinyun’s usual forgetfulness. And compared to the 21st century, there was no need for keys here anyway—doors unlocked with fingerprints. No one could forget to bring their own fingers.

After jogging for about five minutes, Zhao Xinyun quickly lost interest. So they started trying new things, like racing to see who could reach a set point first. These games didn’t have much actual fitness value, but both of them had playful personalities, and in the end, they abandoned all rules and just ran around laughing, though even they didn’t quite know what was so funny.

Luckily, there weren’t many people in the park. It wasn’t strange for couples or close friends to mess around like this. And anyone who had come to this near-barren place like Venus’s second base probably had some degree of goofiness anyway. So when others saw the two running around like that, they didn’t think much of it. The few who noticed just found it completely normal.

But soon, a disaster struck.

The two were running toward each other when a loud bang came from nearby. Both turned their heads at the same time, curious about the noise, though they didn’t stop running—just slowed down slightly. Then, bang! They collided head-on.

Since neither had been running particularly fast, it didn’t really hurt. Their first instinct was to turn their heads back forward to see what happened. But as they turned, their lips accidentally brushed against each other.

“Mmmmmm!!” Zhao Xinyun froze in place, her mind instantly filled with scrolling bullet comments screaming: “FFFFFFFFF***”

“I—I’m really sorry! I swear I didn’t mean to—it was an accident—are you okay? Did I hurt you? Should I get some ointment?” Gresya babbled nervously.

“I’m. Not. Hurt. At all,” Zhao Xinyun replied—though that was a lie. “But. My. First. Kiss. Is. Gone!! Ahhh whatever, it’s fine. You don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t anyone’s fault—we were both careless. If you got hurt, I’ll get some medicine for you. I’m okay.”

Besides, it wasn’t like anyone took advantage of the other. They were both girls, after all, she added silently to herself.

Now came Zhao Xinyun’s internal monologue segment.

Wait, weren’t you just wondering if she had feelings for you?! Don’t contradict yourself!!

Well, since nothing explicit happened, the roles of “top” and “bottom” aren’t set in stone yet. So technically, it’s not clear who took advantage of whom.

What kind of logic is that?! Thinking that the bottom is always the one being taken advantage of is feudal nonsense! Criticize that outdated thinking! Also, hadn’t you already resigned yourself to being the bottom?!

Ahh, whatever. If we’re going to criticize feudal mindsets, then even the idea of a “first kiss” being important is meaningless. Plus, being the bottom suits a lazy person like me better. Tops have to do all the physical work, while bottoms just lie there or strike a few poses.

So… you’re still contradicting yourself!

Meh, only fools get hung up on the details. As for where things with Gresya might go—just wait and see.

That unexpected kiss had apparently knocked open some mental chakra point in Zhao Xinyun’s brain. She suddenly figured it all out. You can’t forcefully suppress feelings. While she was certain she hadn’t fallen for Gresya yet, who could guarantee it wouldn’t happen in the future? So there was no point overthinking it—just go with the flow.

With that, the whole incident stopped feeling like such a blow. She found some ointment, and the two of them applied it to their bruises. As far as she was concerned, the matter was over.

Ironically, the kiss affected Gresya far more. From the way Zhao Xinyun had reacted when she kissed her on the forehead that one time, Gresya had already deduced that she was an incredibly innocent girl. And sure enough, she still had her first kiss. Although Gresya was only half-right—Zhao Xinyun may have had no real-life experience, but given the sheer number of h*nt*i works she’d consumed in the 21st century, her mind was anything but pure.

Of course, Gresya wasn’t naive enough to think Zhao Xinyun was completely clueless about certain matters. But still, she felt guilty. They had agreed to be fake girlfriends, and yet now she had kissed her—her very first kiss, no less. Even if it was accidental, she, as the one who had initiated the whole fake relationship, bore some responsibility.

So afterward, Gresya began taking even better care of Zhao Xinyun, as if they really were a couple. Though things were a bit awkward, and there wasn’t much physical affection, the difference in how Gresya treated her was obvious. Zhao Xinyun found it hard to adjust. She was the kind of person who preferred taking care of others, so having the roles reversed made her uncomfortable. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell Gresya that directly. Instead, she just thought: This wasn’t even your fault, and yet you’re being so nice to me. And her opinion of Gresya quietly went up again.

Still, Zhao Xinyun had more pressing matters to worry about—so much so that even the increasingly awkward relationship between her and Gresya was pushed to the back of her mind.

These days, she kept having the same dream over and over. The details varied slightly, but the overall sequence stayed the same: the vague man whose face she couldn’t see, the chase, and at the end—always, always—Gresya’s face.

She was so fed up with this recurring dream that she didn’t even want to sleep anymore. One night, desperate, she secretly took some sleeping pills, carefully hiding them so Gresya wouldn’t see and freak out. But even after taking the proper dose, she still had the dream.

What frustrated her even more was that these repeated dreams didn’t help her recover any lost memories. Finally, she decided to bring it up to Gresya—casually, as if she were asking out of curiosity.

“Hey, Gresya… What do you think it means if someone keeps having the exact same dream?”

“I think… it probably has something to do with something that happened in real life,” Gresya said thoughtfully. “Or maybe something that person subconsciously wants—or is afraid of.”

“I thought so too. But… what if they can’t remember what happened in the first place?”

Even Gresya, dense as she could be, realized Zhao Xinyun was talking about herself. “In that case… the only thing I can think of is… seeing a therapist?”

Zhao Xinyun nodded. She knew that Gresya was right. With no better ideas and no immediate way to recover her memories, this might be her only option. She was just scared. Then again, things as unscientific as time travel shouldn’t show up on a scientific diagnosis, right?

She agonized over it for days. Eventually, the emotions the dream evoked shifted—from fear and exhaustion to a dull irritation at having to repeat the same story over and over. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and agreed to Gresya’s suggestion. She’d book a psychological consultation—maybe a professional could help her recover her memories.

Gresya even offered to help her make the appointment. Zhao Xinyun agreed. But since the second base was still under construction, it didn’t have high-end services like therapy. She’d need to go to the first base for the session. Remote consultation was possible, but as a time traveler from the 21st century, Zhao Xinyun found the idea awkward. Especially for something as important as recovering lost memories.

During the appointment, she put on the helmet used for “calls” and met her counselor.

“Hello,” the young woman greeted her. She looked about the same age as Zhao Xinyun and Gresya. “I’m Luo Peichen, a registered psychological consultant with Venus Base One.”

The moment Zhao Xinyun heard her name, she wanted to flood the screen with a barrage of ellipses. Why is this world so damn small?

“I…” She didn’t even know what to say. To avoid awkwardness, she made a snap decision—not to mention her relationship with Gresya. Only later did she realize that was pointless. Once the four of them started double dating, Luo Peichen was bound to find out.

Zhao Xinyun gave a fake name. Lots of people did that when seeking therapy, so Luo Peichen didn’t think twice.