I Don't Want to Have Little Mushrooms with You - Chapter 27

Song Tai lay with her eyes closed, her breathing steady and quiet, clearly fast asleep.

Yet two other figures remained awake in the room, their gazes locked in a silent confrontation.

Qu Chunjun returned the stare, her expression betraying little emotion.

Though Qu Fengyue smiled, her eyes remained cold and inscrutable.

Beneath their contrasting exteriors, a shared essence suddenly became apparent.

Qu Fengyue lowered her head, leaning down to kiss Song Tai in a gesture that was both a challenge and a boast.

Instinctively, Song Tai wrapped her arms around Qu Fengyue’s neck.

Qu Chunjun calmly observed the scene, her gaze settling on Song Tai as if Qu Fengyue’s display had no effect on her whatsoever.

Song Tai frowned, letting out a soft, pained groan. Qu Fengyue’s kiss was too forceful, leaving her breathless.

She tried to struggle, arching her neck and desperately trying to break free from Qu Fengyue’s embrace.

But her wrists were pinned above her head, leaving her utterly helpless.

Perhaps driven by her subconscious from before sleep, she instinctively turned to Qu Chunjun for help, without hesitation.

Qu Chunjun watched coldly, unmoved.

As the half-arm’s distance between them vanished, Song Tai’s fingers weakly clutched Qu Fengyue’s sleeve, her snow-white fingertips tinged with a faint crimson.

Qu Fengyue gripped Song Tai’s wrist, attempting to pull her hand back.

Suddenly, Qu Chunjun reached out and forcefully grasped Song Tai’s hand, as if to block her.

Qu Fengyue’s eyes flashed with icy contempt. She sneered, as if she had anticipated this move all along but had hypocritically restrained herself until now.

Their shared origin made it difficult to consider them separate individuals.

Though their mimetic or parasitic forms differed, no one in the world understood each other better than they did, knew the dark things lurking beneath these skins.

For they were originally one being.

Different strands of mycelium, separated from the mother body, carried their flourishing, intertwined love. Their shared goal was to keep Song Tai’s gaze fixed on them.

Yet even so, competition was an irrepressible instinct, possessiveness an innate drive etched into their genes.

They were vying for a mate, their subconscious minds convinced that only the strongest deserved Song Tai’s affection, the right to stand by her side, waiting for the gentle swell of her abdomen, nurturing their spores within…

Qu Chunjun lowered her gaze, focusing intently on Song Tai, her eyes never wavering.

As if oblivious to the tendril of mycelium that had silently crept toward her from Qu Fengyue.

It was almost within striking distance, poised to lash out mercilessly in the next instant.

Finally, she deigned to lift her gaze, grudgingly sparing a glance for Qu Fengyue across from her.

Her hand abandoned its mimicry, surging forth to transform into mycelium identical to Qu Fengyue’s, intercepting the attacking tendril.

The slender, resilient strands intertwined, indistinguishable yet brimming with mutual malice. They tightened viciously, their cold, sharp glint cutting through the night as they relentlessly sought to crush each other.

Seconds later, the tendril belonging to Qu Fengyue snapped cleanly at its base, falling to the ground like a withered plant root. It instantly shriveled, crumbled into dust, and vanished without a trace.

Mycelium itself felt no pain, let alone injury.

Qu Fengyue’s expression remained unchanged. The mycelium extending from her body abruptly retracted, reforming into flesh and bl00d. Though there was no sign of bleeding, her body now lacked an arm, as if a chunk had been forcibly severed.

The scene was eerily surreal.

Yet Qu Fengyue seemed utterly unfazed, her cold gaze fixed on Qu Chunjun.

Qu Chunjun’s face remained calm as she quietly observed Qu Fengyue. There was no triumphant glee in her eyes; instead, a sudden flicker of pity crossed her gaze.

Even after her mycelial threads were severed, Qu Fengyue’s expression remained unchanged. But when she caught the pity in Qu Chunjun’s eyes, she instantly became agitated, as if her defenses had crumbled.

This shouldn’t have happened. These snow-white, resilient mycelial threads were no ordinary strands; how could they break so easily?

Part of the reason was that this was Qu Chunjun’s territory. As the dominant force here, her power naturally surpassed Qu Fengyue’s.

But more importantly, these threads, separated from their mother body, were tethered to Song Tai, drawing sustenance from his emotions. His affection and love were the sole measure of their growth and strength.

Their very purpose was to capture Song Tai’s gaze; this was their only value.

Qu Chunjun could feel her own power steadily growing stronger.

Therefore, her ability to effortlessly defeat Qu Fengyue could only mean one thing: Qu Fengyue was already showing signs of decline.

In simple terms, Qu Fengyue was beginning to lose Song Tai’s favor.

Without Song Tai’s affection, she had no reason to exist.

Without a reason to exist, she would inevitably wither and perish, just like Qu Fengling.

A faint smile played at the corners of Qu Chunjun’s lips.

Qu Fengyue’s face darkened, clearly aware of this grim reality.

The skin used for mimicry gradually distorted, barely containing the mycelium beneath.

Does Qu Chunjun think she’s so beloved? She’ll end up like me sooner or later—no, even worse than I am now.

The faint smile at the corner of Qu Chunjun’s lips vanished. She stared coldly at Qu Fengyue as clusters of mycelium, as if alive, extended from beneath her feet, mercilessly awaiting Qu Fengyue.

The atmosphere tightened, like water about to freeze, the temperature plummeting to near-freezing.

But the next moment, Song Tai’s voice shattered the silent confrontation.

Qu Fengyue had forcefully aroused her physical response, only to abruptly cut it off, leaving her suspended in discomfort. Song Tai frowned, fine beads of sweat forming on her nose, her eyelashes trembling like a butterfly’s wings.

Qu Chunjun was the first to break eye contact. She leaned closer, gently stroking Song Tai’s flushed, feverish cheek.

The cool touch of her fingers against Song Tai’s warm skin sent a shiver through her. Song Tai whimpered softly, instinctively trying to flinch away, but the next moment, she leaned back into the touch.

The persistent fever made her miserable, but Qu Chunjun’s icy fingers offered a fleeting illusion of relief.

It was like drinking poison to quench thirst.

Yet she still craved the soothing touch of that hand.

Song Tai sobbed softly, instinctively pressing her face against Qu Chunjun’s palm.

Qu Fengyue glared defiantly at Qu Chunjun before wrapping her arms tightly around Song Tai from behind.

Even if Song Tai’s shallow affection for me is fading, she thought through gritted teeth, I’m still her real girlfriend. Qu Chunjun has no right to her.

Qu Chunjun has only met Song Tai a few times. Does she even know what positions Song Tai likes?

Warm kisses trailed down Song Tai’s neck to her lower abdomen.

Song Tai let out a soft moan, arching her back and pressing closer, eagerly offering herself into Qu Fengyue’s hands.

Qu Fengyue’s dark expression finally softened.

This time, she didn’t stop Qu Chunjun’s actions—nor could she have.

The mycelial tendrils converged, coiling around Song Tai’s calves and spiraling upward, probing deeper…

Qu Chunjun suddenly glanced at Qu Fengyue and said, “Don’t use that. It’ll give her nightmares.”

Qu Fengyue glanced up coldly at her commanding tone. After a few seconds, she reluctantly gathered the mycelial threads, reshaping them into a simulated hand with fingers.

Song Tai’s waist trembled. She squeezed her eyes shut, her sudden, reckless movements causing her to gasp softly in discomfort.

She pressed closer to Qu Chunjun, burying her cheek in the palm of her hand as if seeking solace.

The cool touch soothed her, and her tightly furrowed brow gradually relaxed.

Yet even this wasn’t enough. She leaned in further, resting her face against Qu Chunjun’s chest and clinging to her waist, refusing to let go, her desire to escape Qu Fengyue’s embrace growing stronger.

Qu Fengyue felt a pang of jealousy at Song Tai’s unconscious reliance on Qu Chunjun, but for the moment, she was powerless to intervene. She tightened her grip with her fingertips.

Song Tai bit down hard on her lower lip, her slender waist arching painfully. Completely restrained, she could only tremble helplessly in Qu Fengyue’s palm, tears welling up as she buried her face against Qu Chunjun’s chest, seeking comfort.

Qu Chunjun lowered her gaze, allowing Song Tai to cling to her. Calmly lifting Song Tai’s face, she gently stroked her increasingly damp eyelashes with her thumb, her voice soft: “I’m here.”

The next morning, when Song Tai woke up, she found herself alone in the room.

She sat up groggily, rubbing her temples. Her thoughts felt hazy and sluggish, like gears that hadn’t been oiled in too long and were on the verge of rusting.

Her body ached, especially around her thighs.

But she didn’t dwell on it, assuming it was just the lingering discomfort from Qu Fengyue’s overly enthusiastic biting the previous day, exacerbated by sleeping for so long.

She seemed to have had another nightmare last night—or rather, not entirely a nightmare.

She couldn’t quite describe it.

She only remembered fragments: her body burning in waves of heat, as if being tossed in a tidal surge. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt like lead. Helpless, she clung to Qu Chunjun beside her, drawing warmth from her to find some semblance of comfort.

Rubbing her temples again, she tried to clear her head.

The door creaked open, and she instinctively looked up.

Qu Chunjun’s gaze swept over her before meeting her slightly dazed eyes. “Hungry?”

Song Tai nodded blankly, then glanced at the empty space behind Qu Chunjun, realizing something was amiss. “Where’s Qu Fengyue?”

“Ms. Qu had urgent business and has already left,” Qu Chunjun replied.

Song Tai was stunned, caught completely off guard by this sudden news. How could Qu Fengyue be leaving after just one night?

Qu Fengyue had arrived abruptly and was now departing just as suddenly.

Qu Chunjun: “It seems she’s injured.”

Song Tai’s expression changed instantly. Her mind flashed to the wound on Qu Fengyue’s neck.

Could it be because of that injury?

Lately, her thoughts had been muddled, her subconscious resistance to Qu Fengyue’s presence overwhelming her rationality. Only now did she realize that after accidentally injuring Qu Fengyue, she had completely forgotten to take her to the hospital.

“It’s not because of her old injury,” Qu Chunjun clarified before Song Tai’s thoughts could spiral further. Her tone remained cold as she added, “She accidentally injured her right arm and needs treatment.”

Qu Chunjun’s usual tone was already icy, but when speaking of Qu Fengyue, her voice grew several degrees colder.

Song Tai nodded blankly, trusting Qu Chunjun’s words but still feeling uneasy.

How could so much have happened while I was asleep?

When had Qu Fengyue injured her arm? Had it happened last night after she fell asleep? And was it so severe that she needed immediate hospitalization?

After a moment’s hesitation, Song Tai grabbed her phone from the desk and called Qu Fengyue.

The call connected quickly. Qu Fengyue’s voice, sounding perfectly normal, came through the receiver: “Elder Sister?”

“Are you alright?” Song Tai gripped the phone tightly.

“Is Elder Sister worried about me? I’m fine, just a minor fracture.” Her voice dropped. “I’m sorry, I wanted to keep you company. I’ll come see you as soon as I’m better, okay?”

Song Tai breathed a sigh of relief and quickly refused. “No need, just focus on recovering.”

Qu Fengyue seemed to want to continue the conversation, but Song Tai interrupted her with a few more words of concern before hanging up abruptly.

With Qu Fengyue gone, Song Tai felt much lighter.

On the third evening, Song Tai prepared to leave.

Before getting into the car, she hesitated for a moment and murmured, “Thank you.”

She now understood that Qu Chunjun, though seemingly aloof, was actually a good person. Song Tai had noticed all the care Qu Chunjun had shown her these past few days.

Qu Chunjun nodded, took a step back, and gestured for her to leave.

Song Tai: “……”

I even said thank you, and she can’t even say ‘You’re welcome’ in return?

So rude.

But as the car pulled away, Song Tai leaned out the window and waved vigorously. “I’m leaving now! I’ll come back next time! Bye-bye!”

Qu Chunjun’s figure stood by the roadside, growing smaller and smaller until she disappeared from view.

Song Tai finally withdrew her gaze, closed the car window, and felt a sudden pang of melancholy at the thought of returning here next month. It felt like participating in a regular outreach program to care for lonely elderly people.

And Qu Chunjun was the person she was supposed to care for.

Amused by this sudden thought, she couldn’t help but smile, pressing her lips together to suppress her laughter.

Qu Chunjun really did seem like a lonely elderly person. Over the past few days, Song Tai had never seen her use a smartphone, and she probably didn’t have any social media accounts or spend much time online.

Given Qu Chunjun’s demeanor, Song Tai wouldn’t have been surprised if she suddenly pulled out a twenty-six-key flip phone and started making a call.

Yet Qu Chunjun was also remarkably skilled at video games.

Song Tai wondered if Song Xuehe would accompany her on her next visit. If not, and no one was watching her, she’d definitely play games.

When she came back, she’d bring her gaming console and have Qu Chunjun help her beat all the games she hadn’t finished yet.

Song Xuehe.

The smile abruptly vanished from Song Tai’s face. She pulled out her phone, bit her lip, and sent Song Xuehe a message: Sorry, Mom. Did Qu Fengyue bother you?

She had wanted to send this message as soon as she heard that Qu Fengyue had gone to see Song Xuehe.

She worried that Song Xuehe would see the injury on Qu Fengyue’s neck. If Song Xuehe found out, she didn’t know how she would punish her.

But she was still at Temple Beach. Sending a message now would be like admitting to Song Xuehe that she had disobeyed Qu Chunjun’s instructions and secretly used her phone.

So she endured, waiting until now to send the message.

After sending it, she unconsciously stared at her phone screen, waiting for a reply. Several minutes passed, but Song Xuehe still hadn’t responded.

She switched to a gaming app and played for a while to kill time.

Another ten minutes passed, and still no reply.

This was unusual.

Ever since she was a child, no matter what Song Xuehe was doing, she would always reply immediately to her messages.

It was rare for her to take more than ten minutes to respond.

But what if? Maybe she was on a business trip and currently on a plane. And it was already late; perhaps she was just too tired and had fallen asleep.

She tried to reassure herself with these flimsy excuses, feeling increasingly agitated and wanting to turn off her phone.

Just then, her phone suddenly lit up with a notification.

Song Tai immediately grabbed her phone, but to her slight disappointment, it wasn’t Song Xuehe—it was Chen Ling.

Chen Ling: Cai Cai, want to grab lunch tomorrow? My girlfriend will be there too. You’ve been wanting to meet her, right?