I Don't Want to Have Little Mushrooms with You - Chapter 37

The scent of her mother invaded Song Tai’s nostrils first…

Song Tai didn’t know what to explain. She genuinely knew nothing.

Wang Luo, who had been sitting on her lap, was suddenly pushed away, nearly falling. She immediately tilted her head back, her green eyes looking at Song Tai with wounded innocence.

Snapping out of her daze, Song Tai instinctively reached out to help her up. But the moment Wang Luo grasped her hand, Song Tai recoiled as if shocked, jerking her hand away.

Why did Wang Luo kiss me? Had she inadvertently become entangled in someone else’s feelings?

Weren’t we just friends? Had there been any inappropriate behavior between them before?

A jumble of thoughts flooded her mind. She immediately turned to Chen Ling. “Chen Ling…”

Chen Ling’s expression remained unyielding, her voice cold. “Come sit in the passenger seat.”

Wang Luo rested her chin on the back of the car seat, gazing at Song Tai with pleading eyes and trying to tug at her hand.

Unable to refuse Chen Ling and certain that she shouldn’t sit with Wang Luo anymore, Song Tai immediately withdrew her hand the moment Wang Luo reached for it.

Dizzy and disoriented, she stumbled out of the car and climbed back in, settling into the passenger seat.

She felt nervous under Chen Ling’s gaze. Though she didn’t know exactly what had happened, she knew she was somehow involved.

I should have refused Wang Luo’s offer, she thought with a pang of regret. If I had, none of this would have happened.

The atmosphere hung heavy, pressing down on her heart and making her feel suffocated.

“Chen Ling…” she reached out tentatively and tugged at Chen Ling’s sleeve.

Chen Ling didn’t respond, her fingers gently caressing Song Tai’s cheek as she gazed at her silently. Her pale gray eyes were unreadable. After a moment, her fingertip brushed against the corner of Song Tai’s lips. “Open.”

Confused but compliant, Song Tai parted her lips slightly. Chen Ling already seemed angry enough; she didn’t want to provoke her further.

The tip of her red, glistening tongue trembled between her teeth.

It was impossible not to imagine the pitiful state of her mouth, the result of being forcefully sucked by two people in quick succession.

Song Tai was still puzzling over this when, in the next instant, a damp tissue pressed against her skin, meticulously wiping the spot Wang Luo had licked.

Chen Ling pressed her fingers firmly against Song Tai’s skin, as if trying to wipe away every trace of Wang Luo’s touch, as if she had been contaminated by something filthy.

If she could, she would have shoved her fingers into Song Tai’s mouth, mercilessly erasing every lingering scent from her lips.

Song Tai’s lips and tongue were already numb from Wang Luo’s earlier kiss, and now Chen Ling was scrubbing her mouth with such relentless force.

Song Tai felt a sharp pang of discomfort.

Yet, she cautiously glanced up at Chen Ling.

Chen Ling always smiled at her, and even when she didn’t, her expression remained gentle.

This was the first time Song Tai had ever seen Chen Ling with such a dark, unwavering gaze fixed on her swollen, kiss-reddened lips, almost menacing.

Song Tai froze, afraid to move.

But Wang Luo’s kiss had left her tongue tingling, a primal hunger in her touch as she ruthlessly plundered every inch of Song Tai’s mouth.

That lingering, slightly numb pain still stubbornly lingered on the tip of her tongue.

But… she hesitated for a few seconds.

It must be my imagination, she thought. How could a human tongue have barbs like a cat’s?

Half-asleep, her consciousness blurred, Song Tai’s senses exaggerated external stimuli.

Chen Ling’s merciless actions made her uncomfortable.

Unable to bear it any longer, Song Tai whispered, “It hurts…”

Chen Ling’s fingers paused before releasing her.

Song Tai instinctively licked her lips, feeling a sharp pain.

She nearly blurted out a complaint: What are you doing?

But she caught herself in time.

Chen Ling was likely in a terrible mood, given her close relationship with Wang Luo.

But why had Wang Luo kissed her?

Even now, Song Tai couldn’t understand. She glanced unconsciously at Wang Luo in the back seat.

Wang Luo was already watching her, maintaining the same posture as before, as if observing her reaction.

Startled, Song Tai quickly averted her gaze, her heart pounding with anxiety.

During the rest of the journey, neither Chen Ling nor Wang Luo spoke. Song Tai didn’t know what to say either, still reeling from the shock.

In an eerie silence, the car reached its destination. Chen Ling dropped Song Tai off at home first.

She hesitated for a few seconds. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with Wang Luo.”

Chen Ling’s expression didn’t soften. “Why are you apologizing for her?”

Wang Luo rolled her eyes at Chen Ling, then quickly turned to Song Tai, her expression softening. “Cai Cai did nothing wrong. You don’t need to apologize.”

Suddenly, they were in perfect sync again.

Song Tai didn’t know what to say. Staring at the two tense figures, she blurted out, “Then you absolutely mustn’t fight.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized she’d overstepped. Even with her childlike nature, Wang Luo was still an adult. Besides, they’d been together for seven years. Even if the initial passion had faded, a familial understanding must still exist between them.

Moreover, their passion was clearly still present. Chen Ling obviously still adored Wang Luo; her eyes had sparkled with affection whenever she mentioned her earlier.

So… it wasn’t her place to offer advice. She’d clearly said the wrong thing.

No sooner had she finished speaking than both women murmured in agreement.

Song Tai took a few steps toward the door, but paused, turning back to look at them with lingering concern.

Seeing their expressions were strained but relatively calm, she finally relaxed slightly.

She didn’t want Chen Ling to be angry with her, nor did she want to lose Chen Ling as a friend. But she also didn’t want to lose Wang Luo, who had gradually become a close friend.

She genuinely liked Wang Luo—the kind of affection one feels for a friend.

That’s why she didn’t want Wang Luo and Chen Ling to break up.

She hoped they could resolve their issues properly, and if possible, return to their previous harmonious state.

As Song Tai closed her eyes to sleep, she thought wearily, perhaps because of the day’s complicated events, or perhaps because of those two confusing kisses.

For the first time, Song Tai dreamed of Qu Fengyue.

But it wasn’t quite right to say she only dreamed of Qu Fengyue. Qu Lingyue was there too.

The familiar scene was from the day she and Qu Fengyue broke up.

Qu Fengyue stood outside the door, peering through the peephole with an anxious and slightly angry expression.

Song Tai stood trembling inside, terrified of being discovered.

But unlike reality that day—

Qu Lingyue pressed Song Tai firmly against the door, trapping her between the door and her own embrace.

Her skirt was pulled up, the fabric clenched between her teeth.

Qu Fengyue watched through the peephole, calling out softly, her voice tinged with hurt: “Elder Sister, why won’t you talk to me…?”

Qu Lingyue held Song Tai tightly, her voice dripping with malice: “Did you hear that? She’s calling for you. Poor little puppy. Why won’t Elder Sister answer?”

But Qu Lingyue gave Song Tai no chance to reply.

Song Tai groaned softly, forced against the door.

She saw Qu Fengyue staring at her, her gaze unwavering. Yet the emotion in her eyes suddenly darkened, as if she were watching a wife caught in infidelity: “Elder Sister, what are you doing with her?”

But this gaze didn’t frighten Song Tai. Instead, it ignited a flame of desire within her, intensifying her physical response.

She leaned slightly closer to Qu Lingyue, pressing herself deeper into her grasp, her movements almost pleading, urging her to hurry.

At the same moment, beneath her feet, Qu Fengyue’s mycelia surged through the gap under the door, their icy tendrils coiling around her ankles, then her calves, climbing upward with terrifying speed…

Song Tai’s eyes snapped open. The room was already bathed in daylight, though the curtains were drawn tight. Golden rays of sunlight still managed to seep through the gaps, dancing across the floor in thin streaks.

She shifted uncomfortably, drawing her legs up.

The dream had felt too real, leaving her disoriented, as if Qu Fengyue were actually standing behind the door.

Dreams are projections of the subconscious. Why had she dreamt this?

It made sense that Qu Fengyue would appear in her dreams, but why Qu Lingyue?

Could it be… did she secretly wish Qu Lingyue would do something to her?

Impossible!

Her mind instinctively recoiled. She’d rather Qu Fengyue suddenly return than have that annoying Qu Lingyue.

Just thinking about Qu Lingyue irritated her.

It must be because I’ve been single for too long.

Come to think of it, she’d broken up with Qu Fengyue last month. Since turning eighteen, she hadn’t been single for this long.

Qu Fengyue.

The name lingered in her mind, causing her movements to falter. She suddenly realized she was struggling to recall Qu Fengyue’s face.

Not that she couldn’t remember it at all—it just required a conscious effort to conjure up the details of his appearance.

It was as if, with Qu Fengyue’s disappearance from her life, the memories of her were rapidly fading and blurring.

If she hadn’t suddenly remembered Qu Fengyue today, soon all that would remain in her mind were a few withered adjectives: a bit like a puppy, very obedient, beautiful eyes…

Just like all her previous exes, Qu Fengyue would be reduced to these adjectives, leaving no ripple in her memory.

But what color were Qu Fengyue’s eyes? Dark brown, right? No, wait, maybe more hazel?

How could she forget such details after only a month?

Frowning, she picked up her phone, intending to find a photo of them together to confirm. But after scrolling through her gallery, she realized she didn’t have a single picture with Qu Fengyue.

That makes sense, she thought. Her feelings for Qu Fengyue had been mild, more about seeking control in the relationship. She’d never considered it serious, so she’d never thought to take any photos together.

But Qu Fengyue had never suggested taking photos either.

She turned off her phone, feeling momentarily dazed. She had the nagging sense that she was forgetting something else.

What was she forgetting?

Oh, right. Why did she break up with Qu Fengyue?

The initial excitement hadn’t completely faded. Under normal circumstances, she would have chosen to continue the relationship.

Because of Song Xuehe. Song Xuehe thought she should break up.

But there must have been another reason.

What was it?

Her gaze drifted to the table, where a small glass bottle held a few strands of mycelium. A sudden realization struck her.

Ah, yes. This was the real reason she chose to end things with Qu Fengyue for good.

Qu Fengyue didn’t seem human.

She stared blankly at the strands of mycelium.

The initial terror had gradually faded, replaced by lingering unease, until now she felt almost indifferent. Even when she recalled that day’s events, she felt like an detached observer.

She knew she should feel fear, but she didn’t.

Nothing.

She picked up the small glass bottle and examined the mycelium inside. The once snow-white strands had withered, their fragility betraying their lack of moisture. They no longer possessed the delicate yet resilient strength that had once allowed them to easily entwine around her ankle.

Now, they were so brittle that a gentle pinch would snap them into dust, vanishing without a trace.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

She had already broken up with Qu Fengyue.

With a casual indifference, she tossed the small glass bottle into a drawer.

Then she retrieved a small box from the drawer. No partner? No problem. She could satisfy herself.

The dream was merely a result of her physical needs, nothing to do with Qu Lingyue.

She picked up the device inside, lay back on the bed, and closed her eyes. The dream resurfaced vividly in her mind.

Qu Lingyue had pinned her against the door, behind which Qu Fengyue stood, peering intently through the peephole.

Even gazes had warmth. In that dream, she could feel the heat of Qu Fengyue’s gaze.

If not for the door separating them—Qu Lingyue behind her, Qu Fengyue in front—perhaps… She couldn’t dwell on such scenes, the kind Jinjiang absolutely forbade.

It was a bizarre scenario.

Yet perhaps the intensity and forbidden nature of the scene, combined with the position, inexplicably aroused her.

She activated the device, replaying the dream in her mind. A soft moan escaped her lips as the surging sensations overwhelmed her, arching her back in discomfort…

A sudden knock startled Song Tai.

She opened her eyes in a daze. The small device beneath the covers continued its diligent work, emitting a faint vibration.

The images in her mind shattered like glass, replaced by the memory of that night when Song Xuehe had pulled her onto her lap and delivered a merciless slap to her thigh.

She had forgotten to lock the door.

Frantically, she tried to stop the device, but her clumsy movements only made things worse.

As the sound of high heels clicked closer on the floor, her mother’s familiar scent filled the air. Song Xuehe leaned down, gently stroking Song Tai’s cheek. “Why is your face so red?” she asked softly. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Song Tai’s body tensed instantly, the overwhelming sensations flooding her senses.