I Don't Want to Have Little Mushrooms with You - Chapter 31

The next morning, Song Tai woke up feeling dazed and disoriented from crying so much. When she opened her eyes, she saw Song Xuehe’s pale gray shirt lying beside her pillow.

It seemed she had clung to Song Xuehe’s hand last night, refusing to let go. Unable to free himself, Song Xuehe had given her the shirt to hold while she slept.

She couldn’t understand herself.

Song Xuehe had hit her, yet when he showed her tenderness, she desperately craved his comfort.

Instinctively, she leaned in to sniff the shirt, pressing her nose against the fabric. The scent was still there.

Realizing what she was doing, Song Tai quickly turned her head away.

She sat up groggily. Having grown up in this room, she knew every detail of its layout by heart.

Preferences change with age. As a child, she had loved bright colors and elaborate decorations. But during adolescence, she had stubbornly insisted on her own ideas, favoring quirky and unconventional decor.

Every year, Song Xuehe would help her redecorate the room according to her evolving tastes.

However, the current arrangement had remained unchanged for seven years. Since turning eighteen, she had stayed in the room less often, especially after marrying Qu Fengling, when she rarely visited more than a few times a year. As a result, the room’s decor had remained untouched.

The pale green ceiling matched the curtains, and the room opened onto a small balcony with a hanging chair.

The decor was somewhat fresh and youthful, reflecting the style she had favored when she was eighteen.

As her gaze swept across the room, she suddenly noticed two photos of herself and Song Xuehe on the bedside table.

One photo, likely from her elementary school days, showed Song Xuehe holding her gently, her smile soft and tender.

In the other, Song Xuehe sat while Song Tai leaned affectionately against her shoulder. Song Xuehe turned her head to gaze at her, her expression typically composed, but her eyes held a hint of warmth.

Song Tai recognized this photo; it had been taken on her eighteenth birthday.

The frames were meticulously clean, polished to a reflective sheen from regular dusting.

Song Tai stared at the photos, a strange sense of disbelief washing over her. Mom was actually this gentle before?

It wasn’t just the expression; it was the warmth in her eyes.

Even a stranger could see the love Song Xuehe held for her daughter in these photos—a mother’s love.

She remembered that these photos hadn’t been displayed here before; previously, the bedside table had held merchandise from her favorite band.

Who had placed these photos here?

It must have been Song Xuehe.

She tore her gaze away from the photos, clutching the shirt as she headed downstairs.

Only the housekeeper was downstairs.

“Where’s Mom?” Song Tai asked.

“Xue He went to the office early this morning,” the housekeeper replied. “Are you hungry? I made your favorite breakfast…”

Song Tai handed her the shirt she was carrying, stained with her tears. She wasn’t sure if it was still wearable.

She sat down absently at the dining table and opened her phone.

Normally, when they weren’t together, Qu Fengyue would flood her with messages. Dozens would pop up the moment she unlocked her phone. But lately, Qu Fengyue had been unusually quiet, her messages restrained.

Her injuries must be really serious, Song Tai thought hesitantly. I wonder if the wound on her neck has healed.

But she still had to break up with her.

She had never been particularly attached to this relationship, and Qu Fengyue’s occasional behavior had frightened her. The only reason she hadn’t ended things sooner was because she hadn’t felt it necessary.

Now that she had promised Song Xuehe, Song Xuehe had given her the resolve she needed.

She tentatively sent Qu Fengyue a message:

Is your arm feeling any better?

Qu Fengyue replied almost instantly, her tone unchanged: It’s almost fully healed.

Immediately following was a coquettish message: But it still hurts a little. It came with a puppy wagging its tail emoji.

Song Tai deliberately ignored the second part and asked, Are you free? I have something very important to tell you.

But just as her finger hovered over the send button, she hesitated for a few seconds and deleted the second part.

Qu Fengyue seemed delighted. Elder Sister wants to see me? Of course I’m free! I want to see you too. I miss you so much.

Is it today? I can’t wait!

Song Tai made up her mind. Yes, today.

Song Tai was still mentally considering where to meet when Qu Fengyue sent first: I’ll come to you. Wait for me, Elder Sister.

After not seeing each other for a few days, Qu Fengyue’s arm showed no visible signs of injury. However, the wound on her neck still bore a fading ring of discoloration, suggesting it would take quite some time to heal completely.

As soon as they met, Qu Fengyue embraced Song Tai affectionately and murmured, “Elder Sister, I missed you so much. Why didn’t you text me?” Her expression was slightly aggrieved, like a puppy begging for attention.

“I…” Song Tai hesitated, unsure how to begin.

Qu Fengyue was unlike any of Song Tai’s previous relationships.

With her former girlfriends, including Qu Fengling, Song Tai had felt no guilt whatsoever when ending things, only a sense of calm and an eagerness to be free of the relationship.

This allowed her to break up without hesitation, never worrying about the consequences of her words.

But Qu Fengyue was different. Even now, when Song Tai met her gaze, she couldn’t help but recall the fright Qu Fengyue had given her at Temple Beach.

Though Qu Fengyue’s behavior seemed perfectly normal, it inexplicably filled Song Tai with unease.

Song Tai forced a dry smile. “How have you been lately?”

What a strange way to start a conversation, she thought to herself. It sounds like a wife who’s only staying for the money.

But Qu Fengyue seemed oblivious to the awkwardness, gazing at her with unwavering devotion. “I’ve been fine, just missing you terribly.”

Song Tai avoided her gaze, mentally rehearsing what she wanted to say.

Qu Fengyue buried her face in Song Tai’s shoulder, whispering softly, “Has Elder Sister missed me too?”

“Can I stay tonight?”

The words Song Tai had been about to say—I want to break up—caught in her throat.

She knew Qu Fengyue didn’t want her to act so harmless, yet she still felt her resolve waver.

She pursed her lips, feeling conflicted. She had never realized that breaking up could be so difficult.

But she had already promised her mother.

Qu Fengyue: “Elder Sister? Don’t you miss me?”

Thinking of Song Xuehe, she steeled her resolve, avoiding Qu Fengyue’s attempt to get closer. After a moment’s hesitation, she decided to end things quickly. “Not really.”

“And… let’s break up.” She met Qu Fengyue’s eyes.

The words came abruptly.

Qu Fengyue froze mid-motion, her smile freezing on her lips. She stared at Song Tai in disbelief, her face draining of color. “Elder Sister?”

“What are you saying?”

Song Tai avoided her gaze.

“Elder Sister, you’re joking, right? You scared me! Don’t do that again, okay?” Qu Fengyue forced a smile, desperately trying to maintain composure.

Song Tai said earnestly, “No, I’m not joking.”

Qu Fengyue’s smile vanished instantly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Hearing this familiar question, Song Tai instinctively frowned. “No, you’re fine.”

“Then why break up?” Qu Fengyue’s eyes darkened for a moment, but the next second it seemed like Song Tai had imagined it.

Qu Fengyue’s expression was clearly bewildered, her voice filled with hurt.

Song Tai didn’t know how to answer.

Answering directly that it was because of Song Xuehe would make her seem indecisive.

Although she had been considering breaking up herself, it was largely due to Song Xuehe’s influence.

While she was still formulating her words, Qu Fengyue had already leaned in for a kiss, heedless of her hesitation.

Song Tai couldn’t dodge in time. As Qu Fengyue’s warm tongue tried to part her lips, Song Tai suddenly remembered their previous encounter and instinctively tried to pull away.

Qu Fengyue seemed genuinely hurt. “Elder Sister, don’t reject me.”

Song Tai hesitated for two seconds.

Qu Fengyue seized the opportunity, her kisses trailing down from Song Tai’s cheek to her neck.

They hadn’t seen each other in days, and Qu Fengyue was being unusually assertive. Under her kisses, Song Tai unconsciously…

A warm, fleeting kiss landed on her wrist, snapping Song Tai back to reality. She pressed her hands against Qu Fengyue’s shoulders, trying to sit up. She was here to break up with Qu Fengyue, not to sleep with her.

Qu Fengyue: “Don’t you like me anymore?”

“If not, I’ll let you go right now.”

Song Tai looked at her, slightly troubled. The question was difficult to answer.

Because she had never really liked Qu Fengyue that much.

Qu Fengyue: “So you do like me? Then why break up?”

Song Tai: “Wait…” That wasn’t what she meant.

But Qu Fengyue was no longer listening.

Qu Fengyue buried her head, her movements even more reckless than usual.

Song Tai’s face was half-buried in the pillow, her fingers curled tightly around its corner.

After several days without intimacy, she could barely withstand Qu Fengyue’s assault.

Within what felt like two or three minutes—or perhaps even less—her consciousness dissolved, her body growing limp and weak.

She heard a faint swallowing sound. A few seconds later, Qu Fengyue lifted her head, her lips glistening. She chuckled, but her eyes held no warmth. “Elder Sister said she wasn’t feeling it anymore. Why did you want to break up?”

Before Song Tai could catch her breath, Qu Fengyue had already scooped her up. “Or did Elder Sister fall for someone else? Who is it? Qu Lingyue? Or Qu Chunjun?”

The question was all too familiar. Just over a month ago, Qu Fengling had asked her something similar.

Song Tai struggled to process the question, feeling utterly speechless. Why does everyone assume I wanted to break up because I’m cheating? Do I really seem that fickle?

“Neither of them,” Song Tai gasped, trying to pull away from Qu Fengyue’s grip. When her attempts failed, she snapped, “Let go of me.”

Qu Fengyue gazed at her, her free hand gently stroking the corner of Song Tai’s eye. “Then why do you want to break up with me, Elder Sister?” she asked softly, her tone now carrying a hint of forceful interrogation.

Song Tai, already mentally exhausted, instantly stiffened and collapsed against Qu Fengyue’s shoulder, bursting into tears.

Two consecutive, slightly coercive releases left her wanting to push Qu Fengyue away. But Qu Fengyue seemed determined to extract a satisfactory answer from her, showing no intention of letting her go.

Qu Fengyue calmly watched Song Tai soften under her touch, melting beneath her fingertips. Her expression darkened, yet her voice carried an incongruous mix of grievance and pleading. “Elder Sister, please don’t break up with me, okay?”

“Why won’t you answer me?”

“Elder Sister… is the only way to keep you from leaving me to devour you?”

A strand of mycelium silently coiled around Song Tai’s ankle.

Tears blurred Song Tai’s vision, making the scene before her sway hazily.

Qu Fengyue’s actions were going too far.

Song Tai gripped Qu Fengyue’s wrist, her voice weak and tear-soaked. “Qu Fengyue…”

But her peripheral vision suddenly froze. This was the third time she’d seen it: mycelium, again mycelium.

The mycelial strands, silently climbing up her calf, were a familiar hallucination. Song Tai had even developed a subtle immunity to this cliché.

Her breathing quickened slightly as she instinctively reached out to touch them.

To her shock, she felt the delicate, thread-like texture. The unnervingly real sensation made her heart leap, and she reflexively closed her fingers around the strands.

Had her hallucinations become this vivid?

Song Tai’s heart rate eased, too drained to dwell on it.

But the next moment, she opened her fingers and caught a glimpse of several severed mycelial tips clinging to her palm.

She stared at her palm in disbelief, checking again to confirm.

There they were.

Though minute, the strands felt like tangible evidence—like withered plant stems, rapidly losing their vitality, brittle and decaying, lying in her palm, impossible to ignore.

A sharp, uncontrollable buzzing erupted in her mind, instantly blurring her thoughts into a blank haze.

The mycelia felt no pain, so Qu Fengyue remained oblivious, her hand still pressed against Song Tai’s waist as she leaned in for a kiss. “Elder Sister, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering me?”

Song Tai’s face drained of color. She clenched her fist in panic, dodging the kiss.