I Don't Want to Have Little Mushrooms with You - Chapter 22

Qu Fengyue remained silent for a few seconds before softly asking, “I’m right here beside you. Why do you still need to watch these videos?”

Her voice carried a hint of sadness and self-reproach.

“It’s all my fault. I didn’t realize what Elder Sister needed.”

Song Tai stared blankly.

She didn’t need any of this.

Apart from the first few seconds, she hadn’t even watched the video.

She hadn’t sought it out deliberately. The company had taken on a promotional project for a foreign band, and as the project manager, she was checking the band’s social media accounts when the video popped up in her recommendations. She had clicked on it by accident.

With Qu Fengyue being so clingy, how could she possibly have time for such videos?

If the person in the video hadn’t sounded so much like Qu Chunjun, she wouldn’t have even bothered listening.

The thought of having to go to Temple Beach again next month made Qu Chunjun’s face seem utterly detestable.

“Alright, don’t be sad,” Song Tai said, wanting to explain. She touched Qu Fengyue’s cheek. “Really, there’s nothing…”

Before she could finish speaking, Qu Fengyue, noticing her gaze, suddenly smiled and winked.

For a moment, Song Tai almost believed Qu Fengyue was genuinely upset.

Deep down, she knew Qu Fengyue wasn’t as docile as she pretended to be—remember how she had secretly held her hand in the elevator in front of their boss, or how she had mercilessly bitten her during intimate moments, leaving painful marks?

But Song Tai didn’t want to care, nor had she ever given it much thought. As long as Qu Fengyue obeyed her, that was all that mattered.

The day she started to care would be the day she broke up with Qu Fengyue.

Qu Fengyue nuzzled against her, asking, “Which one makes you feel more?”

Song Tai instinctively glanced at her phone screen.

In her earlier panic to pause the video, it had frozen on a particular frame.

The submissive character, wearing a collar around her neck, trembled violently as a ruler mercilessly struck her fair skin, leaving raw, stinging welts. The scene looked agonizing.

Song Tai had no masochistic tendencies whatsoever.

She casually pointed to the character holding the disciplinary ruler.

“This one.”

Qu Fengyue hummed, her curiosity piqued. “Elder Sister likes this one?”

Song Tai remained silent.

No, I just don’t want to be hit.

“Then Elder Sister can do this to me too,” Qu Fengyue said suddenly, her gaze fixed on the screen, dropping the bombshell.

Song Tai: “……”

I don’t have that kind of inclination, okay? I just said it casually.

Where did Qu Fengyue’s mind wander off to?

Did she think that because I said I felt something for the character being punished, Qu Fengyue would actually hit me?

“No more talking about this. Time for bed.”

Song Tai didn’t dwell on it, even feeling relieved that Qu Fengyue hadn’t discovered she’d saved Qu Lingyue’s videos.

Qu Fengyue wrapped her arms around Song Tai from behind.

Just as Song Tai was about to turn off her phone, a notification popped up.

Mom: I’ve booked your favorite restaurant. Let’s have dinner together tomorrow night.

Song Tai lowered her gaze, her finger hovering over the screen. After a long hesitation, she replied: Okay.

Throughout the entire dinner, Song Tai ate without tasting anything, barely aware of what she was consuming. She couldn’t help but steal glances at Song Xuehe’s expression.

She had expected Song Xuehe to demand she break up with Qu Fengyue again. She had even prepared herself to defy her mother’s wishes, determined not to end the relationship. She was almost bracing for a confrontation.

But to her surprise, Song Xuehe let the matter drop entirely. For nearly a month, she never mentioned it again, as if she truly meant what she had said in the car: “Mom respects your decisions.”

This only made Song Tai feel more uneasy. She even began to wonder if she had made a mistake. Perhaps she shouldn’t have gotten together with Qu Fengyue so soon after Qu Fengling’s death.

The final dessert arrived—a small, delicate cup filled with what seemed to be fruit puree, encased in a crystal-clear sugar shell. It was exquisitely decorated, resembling a tiny snow globe.

Song Tai didn’t pay much attention until her spoon scraped the bottom of the cup. Only then did she realize she had finished it.

Song Xuehe, who had been watching her closely, remarked, “You liked that? Waiter, please give her my portion as well.”

Song Tai instinctively looked up at her.

Song Xuehe’s gaze was gentle, her eyes crinkling with a smile. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at your mother like that?”

Her demeanor was warm and natural, as if their explosive argument in the car that day had never happened, as if nothing had occurred at all.

Song Tai shook her head, feeling awkward.

She couldn’t match Song Xuehe’s effortless composure.

In truth, beyond the accusations that day, what she had feared most was Song Xuehe asking, “How did you become like this?”

Staring at the dessert in her cup, she unconsciously thought of Qu Fengling.

Qu Fengling and Song Xuehe had always gotten along seamlessly.

She didn’t know how Qu Fengling managed it, but whenever Qu Fengling was around, Song Tai and Song Xuehe actually felt more at ease with each other—even though they were the mother and daughter.

Sometimes, Song Tai wondered if Qu Fengling was the kind of daughter Song Xuehe truly wanted:

Excellent, composed, and obedient.

Not someone like her.

Song Xuehe: “Are you scared sleeping alone? You mentioned moving before. Why not just move in with me? What do you say?”

“No,” Song Tai immediately shook her head, refusing in a small voice. “It’s more convenient here, closer to the office.”

Song Xuehe: “If you don’t want to live with me, there’s another apartment near the office you can stay in.”

Song Tai shook her head again, resisting. “Let’s just forget it. It’s too much trouble.”

She didn’t want to move anywhere else.

This place made her feel safe.

The thought surfaced almost unconsciously.

When she realized it, Song Tai startled herself, even feeling momentarily dazed.

It was strange. After Qu Fengling’s death, she had often been terrified by the security camera, plagued by nightmares, and sometimes even dreamed of Qu Fengling. Yet, inexplicably, she felt a sense of security in that very apartment.

Her instincts were resisting. She couldn’t leave. Otherwise… otherwise…

She unconsciously touched her lower abdomen.

Otherwise, what would happen?

She couldn’t explain it herself.

But what was even stranger was that even now, aware of the irrationality of her feelings, she still couldn’t bring herself to move out.

Song Tai frowned, her thoughts momentarily drifting into a daze.

Why?

She had already decided to move out.

Sensing her resolve, Song Xuehe stopped pressing the issue and changed the subject. “Having fun with that intern lately? When are you going to introduce her to Mom?”

Song Tai was momentarily dazed. She snapped back to attention but didn’t know how to answer.

She had no idea how long her relationship with Qu Fengyue would last.

Nor did she know what kind of answer would satisfy Song Xuehe.

Should she say they’d break up soon?

Or that they’d be together for a long time?

Neither answer seemed like one Song Xuehe would approve of.

But Song Xuehe didn’t seem particularly invested in the question either. It was as if she’d asked casually, and when Song Tai remained silent, she immediately changed the subject.

After dinner, Song Xuehe had other engagements and sent her home with the driver.

Song Tai pushed open the door. The living room was quietly lit, but empty.

Qu Fengyue didn’t immediately come out to greet her either.

She found it odd. It’s so late. Is Qu Fengyue not home?

Qu Fengyue hadn’t mentioned leaving today.

Just then, she heard a faint tinkling sound coming from the bedroom.

Puzzled, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Qu Fengyue was sitting on the bed, gazing at her with wide, expectant eyes. “Elder Sister,” she murmured softly.

The room was dimly lit, with only a small nightlight casting a faint glow.

Song Tai took a few steps closer before she could fully make out Qu Fengyue’s face. Her footsteps suddenly halted.

Around Qu Fengyue’s pale neck was a finger-wide black leather collar, from which dangled a golden bell. With each movement, the bell chimed crisply and melodically.

The tinkling sound Song Tai had heard earlier in the living room had come from this bell.

Clearly unaccustomed to wearing such an accessory, Qu Fengyue knelt awkwardly on the bed, her cheeks flushed crimson as she tugged self-consciously at the collar constricting her neck.

Perched atop her head were a pair of lifelike puppy ears, soft and pliable, swaying gently with her movements.

Actually, they’re quite cute, Song Tai thought.

Snapping out of her reverie, Song Tai approached and playfully stroked the puppy ears. “Why are you wearing this?” she asked with a smile.

Her mind immediately flashed back to the video they had watched together a few days prior, and Qu Fengyue’s earlier words.

Song Tai hadn’t expected Qu Fengyue would actually buy something like this.

Qu Fengyue stared intently at her. “Does it look good?”

Song Tai couldn’t judge. She didn’t think such things had anything to do with beauty. No matter how harmlessly it was made, it still carried a peculiar implication.

She reached out and flicked the tiny bell on the collar, teasing, “You look like a little puppy.”

Qu Fengyue didn’t reply, instead burying her face in Song Tai’s palm and nuzzling against it.

Song Tai chuckled. “Is the little puppy being affectionate?”

Qu Fengyue remained silent, but suddenly pressed the thin chain attached to the collar into Song Tai’s hand.

Song Tai froze, startled.

Qu Fengyue gripped her hand and yanked the chain taut.

The chain tightened instantly, forcing Qu Fengyue to gasp for breath and tilt her head back.

Yet she seemed oblivious, gazing up at Song Tai, her cheek pressed intimately against her chest, listening to her heartbeat. She murmured softly, “Elder Sister, I’m very obedient.”

Song Tai’s heart leaped in her chest. The metal chain suddenly burned like fire, searing her palm.