I Became the Female Lead’s Current Obsession - Chapter 32

Jiang Qing parked her car in the underground garage and headed straight to the third-floor bakery in the mall.

Business was brisk, thanks to a special Mid-Autumn promotion on mooncake-making that had drawn in plenty of customers.

“I made a reservation two days ago,” Jiang Qing said, giving the receptionist her phone number. Once the reservation was confirmed, a mushroom-cut-haired staff member led her into a small room.

“I’ll guide you through making the mooncakes. Once they’re done, we’ll bake them outside,” the girl explained, pointing to the cozy room.

“Alright.” Jiang Qing smiled. “I’ve never done this before, so I might trouble you a bit.”

“Not at all! You’re our guest—it’s no trouble at all! And mooncakes aren’t that hard to make,” the girl quickly replied, slightly shy. Jiang Qing had striking features and a tall figure. Dressed in androgynous casual

wear, she gave off an air of commanding confidence. Especially when she smiled—there was a boyish charm about her.

“Let’s wash our hands first and get started.”

After washing up, Jiang Qing was handed a yellow apron adorned with a white bunny nibbling on a mooncake—likely a Mid-Autumn limited edition.

“By the way, can I draw my own design on the mooncake later?” Jiang Qing asked. “Or is that too difficult for beginners?”

“Hmm…” The girl hesitated. “If it’s a simple design, it should be fine. More complex lines might not come out clearly after baking.”

This might be a disaster.

Though Jiang Qing had that thought, she kept a calm expression and a look of quiet confidence.

Acting had its perks—convincing others could help convince yourself too.

Since Jiang Qing had mentioned beforehand that her family liked sweets, the bakery added a few extra grams of sugar to the ingredients.

The mushroom-cut girl sat beside her and gave instructions while Jiang Qing followed them step by step, steady and unhurried.

Once the dough was prepared, the girl told her it needed to rest for about three hours. She suggested Jiang Qing wander the mall in the meantime and promised to message her once the dough was ready.

Jiang Qing strolled through the mall aimlessly, eventually grabbing a clay pot dish on the fourth floor. She snapped a photo and sent it to Hou Xue.

“Hotpot.JPG”

“What did you eat for lunch?”

Jiang Qing rarely messaged Hou Xue during work hours, not wanting to disturb her. She usually waited until mealtimes to talk to her.

“Sweet and sour pork with cabbage tofu.”

“I miss you.”

Jiang Qing looked at her phone, the corners of her lips curling into a smile.

Hou Xue sent a video call request, and Jiang Qing accepted without hesitation.

“Is now a good time?” Hou Xue asked softly, adjusting the angle of her phone on a stand.

“Yeah.” Jiang Qing sat at a window-side seat in the hotpot place; the only other customers nearby were a young couple at the next table. “You’re at the office?”

Hou Xue sat in her desk chair. Behind her was a large oil painting—painted by Jiang Qing—of nine sunflowers blooming toward the morning sun. To her right sat a small mug, part of a matching set Jiang Qing had whimsically bought. The design featured custom graphics that appeared when hot water was poured in. Hou Xue’s mug had a white kitten; Jiang Qing’s had a black one.

This was Hou Xue’s office, but traces of Jiang Qing were everywhere.

Jiang Qing stared at her face.

After all these years, Hou Xue had barely gained any weight, almost the same as when she was seventeen—though she had shot up in height. Her small frame was partly due to genetics, partly due to eating habits.

She always stopped after just a few bites, so Jiang Qing constantly tried new recipes to help her gain weight, though without much success.

“I came right back after eating,” Hou Xue said, taking a sip of water.

“You didn’t eat properly again?” Jiang Qing frowned and put down her chopsticks. “You just want me to bring you lunch every day, huh?”

“No…” Hou Xue replied half-heartedly.

The truth was, she did want to see Jiang Qing more often. But she didn’t want her girlfriend burdened by cooking every day, so she’d always declined Jiang Qing’s offers.

“Then why don’t you eat?” Jiang Qing’s voice softened. “Please tell me?”

She’d long noticed something wasn’t right. Even when they were younger, during the growth years, Hou Xue’s appetite had been tiny. Now, with work stress added, it seemed to have only worsened.

Hou Xue took another sip of water.

She didn’t really want to explain.

Not because she had anything to hide, but because she didn’t want to upset Jiang Qing over something from the past.

To her, being in love meant creating only happy memories. She cherished that beauty and wanted to protect it.

“Hou Jingjun… used to not let me eat.”

Jiang Qing’s eyes widened slightly. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say.

“I was really young and very hungry,” Hou Xue said gently, her voice soft, as if telling a trivial story. “One night, I couldn’t take it anymore and snuck out to eat a pack of biscuits.”

“And then…” Jiang Qing’s expression faded.

She was angry—furious—but didn’t want Hou Xue to see it.

“He beat me. Took out all the biscuits. For every pack I ate, he forced me to throw up once.”

Jiang Qing’s lips tightened.

“There were a lot of packs,” Hou Xue gave a small smile. “After that, whenever I eat more than one pack’s worth, I feel sick to my stomach.”

How many years had she lived like that? How long had that shadow lingered?

“Why are you only telling me now?” Jiang Qing could barely contain herself. She wanted to rush over, hold Hou Xue tightly, kiss her eyes, her nose, her lips—tell her it was all over.

But the body remembers.

And that trauma, no matter how distant, lived on in her reactions.

“Because I didn’t want you to worry,” Hou Xue said plainly. “I used to be afraid you’d pity me. But now… if it’s you, maybe I wouldn’t feel sick.”

Jiang Qing closed her eyes. Suddenly, she had no appetite.

“Even with sweets?” she asked.

There was a long pause—nearly thirty seconds—before Hou Xue replied, “Not everything… But the ones you make, I can eat a bit more.”

Jiang Qing’s eyes lit up.

She’d always assumed Hou Xue forced herself to eat more just because she was there watching.

“Well, that’s easy then. From now on, I’m cooking all your meals.”

That was exactly what Hou Xue was afraid of.

“There’s no need, it’s too much—”

Jiang Qing cut her off immediately. “Who am I to you?”

“…My girlfriend.”

“You’re going to spend your life with me.”

Hou Xue smiled.

“Then it’s not too much. I need you to be healthy—so you can stay with me always.”

Hou Xue couldn’t argue with that.

She sighed, her eyes filled with tenderness.

“Okay.”

“Now, President Hou, get back to work. No overtime today,” Jiang Qing teased.

“Mm.” Hou Xue nodded.

Jiang Qing didn’t want to hang up, but she also didn’t want to disturb her.

In the end, she rationally ended the call.

Tonight, Hou Xue was all hers—no need to rush.

But Jiang Qing had no desire to finish her meal anymore. After hearing all that, she too felt slightly nauseous.

She’s hurt for her.

Deeply.

That was someone Jiang Qing couldn’t bear to harm. Not even a single bite. And yet, from those lips she adored came such haunting memories—she could hardly breathe.

Just then, her phone dinged.

“Ms. Jiang, your dough is ready for shaping.”

“On my way.” Jiang Qing replied and headed back down.

…

Jiang Qing was making custard-filled mooncakes. Once the filling was sealed, it was time to shape and decorate.

The crucial moment.

“Here’s the border mold you asked for—the top is blank for your design,” said the girl, handing over the mold.

“Thank you.” Jiang Qing examined it. “I want to draw two little characters—is that too hard?”

“Try to keep it simple; detailed lines might blur when baked.”

Jiang Qing was skilled at drawing. She had never taken tutoring classes—only art lessons in her spare time growing up.

After shaping all the mooncakes, she picked up a small stick to draw.

The tip was rounded, not sharp, which made for thicker, more visible lines.

She started with two cartoon faces—one short-haired, one long-haired.

The short-haired one looked stern; the long-haired one smiled brightly.

Getting a feel for the pressure, she moved on to poses—still the same two figures.

This time, the long-haired one pulled the short-haired one forward by the hand, both their hair streaming behind them.

“Wow, you’re amazing,” the girl marveled. “Is that you and your friend?”

“No.” Jiang Qing glanced at her and continued drawing.

Next, she etched them watching fireworks—now with a background.

Then came a desk scene: the long-haired figure leaned against the desk while the short-haired one nestled against her neck.

Just when the girl thought Jiang Qing wouldn’t explain, Jiang Qing suddenly said, “She’s my girlfriend.”

The girl’s eyes widened in surprise.

But after giving Jiang Qing a once-over, she understood.

If it was Miss Jiang—so beautiful and cool—it actually wasn’t surprising at all.

“It’s uncommon, so I was caught off guard. But your girlfriend must be really happy. You’re brave and romantic,” the girl said.

Jiang Qing smiled as she continued.

“We’ve been through a lot. But now, I’ll make sure she’s happy.”

“I wish you the best. So… how did it start?” the girl asked, growing more curious now that she’d accepted the whole beautiful-women-love-beautiful-women dynamic.

“Hm…” Jiang Qing’s hands didn’t pause. “We met in high school. Her mom and my dad… used to be together.”

Spicy drama!

The girl blinked rapidly.

“So, you two were… stepsisters?”

“Technically, yes. But our parents never married.” Jiang Qing etched the two figures holding hands.

“You must’ve gone through a lot for this relationship.”

Jiang Qing seemed a little dazed at that, as if recalling distant memories.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

She didn’t want to elaborate.

The girl took the hint and changed the topic. “How long have you been together?”

Jiang Qing wasn’t the talkative type and had never shared so much about her and Hou Xue with anyone. But at this moment, revisiting those memories made her feel closer to Hou Xue—as if she’d taken another

step toward her.

“Loosely speaking, twelve years.”

…

The final mooncakes turned out great—clear, detailed designs.

As Jiang Qing walked out of the bakery, the girl continued wishing her and Hou Xue happiness. She said even heterosexual couples rarely lasted twelve years—so they must’ve endured so much more.

Jiang Qing just smiled.

The girl would never know what “loosely speaking” truly meant. Jiang Qing didn’t explain. She let her think what she wanted—because honestly, she wished that were the whole story too.

Back home, Jiang Qing showered, changed into loungewear, and cooked a lavish dinner.

Hou Xue got off work at six. Just as Jiang Qing served the final soup dish, Hou Xue walked in.

“You’re back,” Jiang Qing said, setting the soup down before hurrying to greet her with a big hug. “Is it cold? The weather’s cooling down.”

“Not cold.” Hou Xue hugged her tightly, like she wanted to melt into her.

“Missed me that much after just a day?”

“Yeah,” Hou Xue whispered.

Jiang Qing patted her lightly on the back. “Alright, go wash your hands and eat.”

Hou Xue let go of her but didn’t move.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to eat.” Hou Xue narrowed her eyes. “I want to eat you.”

Jiang Qing was about to scold her for being too young to be saying things like that—but then she remembered Hou Xue was very much of age. So instead, she burst into laughter.

“Where’d you pick that up?”

“The internet.” Hou Xue shrugged off her windbreaker. “Don’t you like it?” She’d always had a habit of learning things online—and clearly, that habit hadn’t changed.

“Let’s eat first,” Jiang Qing said, leaning casually against the wall. “Then we can decide who’s eating who.”

Hou Xue immediately turned to wash her hands and sat down at the table, making her message clear: quick meal, quick outcome.

Jiang Qing found her so adorably earnest, she couldn’t help stealing another kiss before they started.

After they finished eating, Hou Xue wiped her mouth and stared intently at her.

“What are you staring at me for?” Jiang Qing asked, knowing full well, just teasing.

“Love,” Hou Xue replied, standing to pull her into a hug.

“You’ve been learning a lot lately.” Jiang Qing smiled and kissed her on the lips.

Hou Xue kissed her back, but her movements were impatient, eager.

“Hey, hey,” Jiang Qing said, gently pushing her away, “hang on—we should check out the gifts first.”

Hou Xue didn’t respond, leaning in again as if a kiss could make Jiang Qing surrender.

“We should handle business first,” she muttered between kisses.

Jiang Qing didn’t know what had gotten into Hou Xue tonight, but she didn’t mind it. In fact, it made her heart ache a little—in a good way.

“Let’s take a look first,” she said softly. “If we don’t, who knows how long we’ll be… distracted. And you’ll miss what I want you to see.”

“…Alright.” Hou Xue relented and stepped back.

The gift bag with the mooncakes sat on the coffee table. Jiang Qing took it and unboxed the contents.

“Come see.”

Hou Xue sat beside her, gazing down at the neatly arranged rows. After a moment, she turned to Jiang Qing with surprise brightening her eyes.

“This is us,” she said. “Custard filling… very sweet.”

She lifted the box and examined the delicate illustrations printed on the packaging.

Moments of their past.

Fragments of shared time.

“Hou Xue,” Jiang Qing said softly, “Happy Mid-Autumn Festival.”

Hou Xue leaned over and kissed her.

It was gentle, slow, and tender.

Maybe it was psychological, but Jiang Qing swore that kiss tasted like youth.

When their lips parted, Jiang Qing whispered, “We’ll have many more Mid-Autumn Festivals together. So many more.”

“Jiang Qing,” Hou Xue replied, “Happy Mid-Autumn Festival. I’ll always be with you.”

Jiang Qing placed the mooncake box back on the table and smiled. “Now… let’s get back to business.”

The Mid-Autumn night was still long.

And Jiang Qing thought—there was plenty of time for a few rounds before watching the full moon.