I Don't Want to Have Little Mushrooms with You - Chapter 14

The atmosphere was quiet, with only a nightlight by the bed softly glowing.

She lay on the bedroom mattress, limbs weak and hollow, her body drenched in cold sweat. Even her eyelashes were damp with moisture, weighing heavily on her.

The lingering pleasure in her body had yet to fade, as if she were floating in warm spring water. Certain sensations still trembled faintly in the aftermath, uncontrollably secreting glistening fluid.

A surreal, half-real sensation assaulted her mind as Song Tai stared blankly at the ceiling.

Her gaze fell upon the dark teal-patterned bedroom walls—her favorite color, one Qu Fengling had specifically chosen during the renovation.

The small nightlight by the bed also bore the same dark teal patterns.

As her body gradually regained sensation, she turned her head to the side, her eyes wet and red, gasping for breath as though she had narrowly escaped disaster—desperate to break free from the dream she had just experienced.

This wasn’t the first time she’d had such a dream.

Ever since Qu Fengling’s death, she often had similar nightmares. The content varied, but the theme remained the same—Qu Fengling’s eyes watching her, surrounding her, always present.

But this time was different. This dream felt too real, too visceral, as if everything had truly happened to her.

The white mycelium tightly constricting her skin, the suffocating pressure—it all felt like it had just occurred.

Yet the bizarre, fantastical nature of the scene convinced her it had to be a dream.

Meanwhile, the damp stickiness between her legs reminded her of the physical reaction the dream had provoked.

She hated the traces Qu Fengling had left on her body, as if they had been branded into her very core, effortlessly stirring her reactions while she remained powerless to resist.

Even such a strange dream could…

Biting her lip in shame and disgust, Song Tai clenched her thighs tightly before rising from the bed, her emotions teetering on the edge of control.

She desperately needed to grasp something—anything—to prove the dream had been false.

But everything in this house bore Qu Fengling’s mark—the walls, the table, the nightlight…

Qu Fengyue!

Only Qu Fengyue, asleep on the sofa, had no connection to Qu Fengling.

The thought flashed through her mind like a sudden revelation.

Song Tai stood beside the sofa, looking down at her.

She had reluctantly allowed Qu Fengyue to stay the night but refused to let her share the bed. Without complaint, Qu Fengyue obediently curled up under a blanket on the sofa, breathing softly in slumber.

Qu Fengyue had just drifted into light sleep when she sensed footsteps approaching, her lashes fluttering faintly.

Song Tai’s gaze was too intense, startling Qu Fengyue awake. She sat up drowsily, strands of mycelium silently retreating beneath the blanket, sated and content as they receded into her body, becoming part of her once more.

Qu Fengyue tilted her head up, her expression innocent and confused. “Sister?”

She noticed something was off—Song Tai’s eyes were unnaturally red, her entire body glistening with moisture. Her silk pajamas clung to her legs, drenched as though she had just been pulled from water.

Worried, Qu Fengyue asked, “What’s wrong?”

Song Tai grabbed a small box from the table, tore it open, and gripped Qu Fengyue’s wrist, her voice urgent and trembling. “Put this on.”

Before Qu Fengyue could react, she obediently wrapped her arms around Song Tai, pulling her into an embrace.

“Hurry up.” Song Tai knelt on her lap, her tone unconsciously laced with command.

But Qu Fengyue hesitated for a few seconds, her gaze fixed on Song Tai’s face, unmoving. For the first time, she refused, not giving in to her wishes.

Instead, she brushed aside the sweat-dampened hair on Song Tai’s forehead and asked with concern, “Did you have a nightmare?”

Song Tai’s breathing was rapid, her entire body trembling slightly without her realizing it.

Qu Fengyue seemed to understand what had happened. She wrapped her arms around Song Tai and murmured softly, “I’m here.”

Song Tai’s pajamas clung to her body, her slender back starkly outlined.

Qu Fengyue tightened her embrace, clumsily running her fingers down Song Tai’s spine, vertebra by vertebra—a gesture devoid of any desire, meant only to soothe her.

“I’m here.”

Song Tai’s frantic movements suddenly stilled.

The warmth radiating from Qu Fengyue seeped into her, gradually calming her down, pulling her out of the hazy remnants of the dream and grounding her in reality.

Qu Fengling used to hold her like this too, comforting her gently after nightmares, repeating over and over that she was there.

This wasn’t the first time Song Tai had had such a nightmare, but it was the first time Qu Fengling had appeared in her dream like this.

Even though she desperately wanted to rid herself of Qu Fengling’s lingering influence, she now found herself calming down because of Qu Fengyue’s eerily similar actions.

The small box she had just opened, torn apart with slightly rough handling, had scattered its contents across the couch.

Qu Fengyue carefully picked them up one by one.

Soft light spilled over the sofa. Wrapped in a blanket, Song Tai nestled into the cushions, watching her, her emotions now steady.

Qu Fengyue placed the retrieved items back on the side table, counting them—one was still missing.

It wasn’t on the couch; it must have fallen onto the carpet.

Song Tai stopped her. “Forget it, don’t bother.”

“It’s fine, I found it!” Qu Fengyue curved her eyes at her, the pupils glinting under the light, as she opened her palm to show her.

She placed the last one on the side table and settled back beside Song Tai.

After a brief hesitation, she inched closer, leaning against Song Tai’s shoulder and quietly slipping an arm around her waist. “Don’t be scared.”

A few seconds later, as if making amends, she whispered, “Sister… can I hug you?”

Song Tai: “…Aren’t you already doing it?”

Qu Fengyue buried her face in the crook of Song Tai’s neck, unable to suppress a small laugh, her ears tinged red with shyness. Yet she feigned nonchalance, murmuring, “Were you really having a nightmare just now?”

Song Tai didn’t understand.

Qu Fengyue glanced down at her own pajamas, prompting Song Tai to look.

A small, damp patch glistened on the silk fabric, strikingly visible under the light.

Song Tai’s breath hitched for a few seconds.

Qu Fengyue nuzzled her affectionately with the tip of her nose, her breath warm and moist against Song Tai’s neck, like a teasing, greedy little tongue with tiny barbs, licking at her skin. “Did you dream about me?”

No.

“Did you dream about me kissing you?”

The content of the dream flashed back into Song Tai’s mind at Qu Fengyue’s words—unbearable and shameful.

Instinctively, Song Tai wanted to push her away.

But the dampness between her legs, stirred by the “dream,” had only just subsided before being reignited in an instant, like a spark landing in dry tinder, bursting into flames—even fiercer than before.

Qu Fengyue buried her face in the crook of her neck, not lifting her head, yet keenly sensing the sudden tension in her body, the rise in her skin’s temperature, the erratic rhythm of her breath.

Yet Qu Fengyue made no reaction, as if completely unaware of the changes in her. Her eyes shifted unnaturally, sharp and composed, peering through the open collar of her pajamas, staring intently, inspecting the fruits of her labor.

Gradually swelling, plumping, turning into a ripe, luscious crimson berry—just a gentle squeeze, and it seemed sweet nectar would spill forth.

She curled her lips, finally revealing a satisfied smile.

Lifting her head, her expression tinged with shyness, she asked considerately, “Does sister want it now?”

…

Before, it had always been Song Tai taking the lead, but this time, the roles quietly shifted.

The small wrapper picked up earlier had already been put to use—unwrapped, stretched thin and snug around slender fingers.

Qu Fengyue pressed against her from behind, one arm tightly encircling her waist, kissing the nape of her neck.

Her gaze roamed downward along her spine, settling on the trembling curve of her waist, quivering from overwhelming pleasure, then lower still—her eyes suddenly pausing.

Song Tai clutched the armrest of the sofa, kneeling and arching over it, her waist dipping into a pale, undulating angle, trembling uncontrollably.

Suddenly, she heard Qu Fengyue chuckle softly by her ear and say, “Sister really looks like a puppy.”

“Look—wagging your tail for me.”