I Don't Want to Have Little Mushrooms with You - Chapter 41

Song Tai stared at Qu Lingyue with suspicion.

Qu Lingyue suddenly smiled, her expression perfectly calibrated and her tone effortlessly casual. “Really?” she countered.

“Of course,” Song Tai replied. “I’ve never heard you say anything like that before…”

Before she could finish, a cool breath brushed against her cheek. “What about now?”

Song Tai, unsure of Qu Lingyue’s intentions, flustered, retreated a step, accidentally bumping into Qu Chunjun behind her.

Qu Chunjun wrapped an arm around Song Tai, steadying her by the elbow.

Yet Qu Lingyue stepped forward, lowering her head.

Song Tai was caught completely off guard by the kiss.

The sensation on her lips was faintly icy.

But the look in Qu Lingyue’s eyes was entirely different—the calm facade had peeled away, revealing a burning desire that seemed to melt her from within.

Like the tip of her tongue, which gently brushed against Song Tai’s lower lip without attempting to force it open.

Though her gaze betrayed her inner thoughts, her actions remained polite and restrained.

Polite and restrained?

No, that adjective doesn’t quite fit either.

Qu Lingyue had leaned in and kissed her without her consent. How could that be considered polite?

Song Tai froze in place, stunned.

Qu Lingyue quickly released her, stepping back before Song Tai could feel offended, creating some distance. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just felt that this was a better way to express my feelings.”

“Now? Do you still think my behavior is strange?”

It’s even stranger now, okay?

Song Tai wanted to say this, but her thoughts were muddled, her brain subconsciously ignoring the words. Heat flushed her cheeks, and her mind went blank for a moment. “N-no… it’s fine now.”

Qu Lingyue smiled at her, a faint, carefully controlled curve on her lips.

With the sampling complete, the three of them prepared to descend the mountain.

The heat gradually faded from Song Tai’s face as she awkwardly touched her still-warm cheeks.

Her rationality slowly returned. On one hand, she was convinced this was just one of Qu Lingyue’s cheap tricks. On the other hand, she felt utterly pathetic for being shaken by such a shallow and clumsy ploy.

She glanced at Qu Lingyue, who was kneeling nearby, packing up the equipment.

As they descended the mountain, Song Tai deliberately walked beside Qu Chunjun, keeping as much distance as possible from Qu Lingyue.

Qu Chunjun rarely initiated conversation, but she asked, her tone still icy, “Do you dislike her?”

Song Tai found Qu Chunjun’s sudden question strange. “She…”

She was about to blurt out her true feelings but paused, inexplicably changing her answer. She pursed her lips. “I don’t really like her either. She still kissed me without my permission.”

Qu Chunjun replied flatly, “She apologized to you.”

Song Tai blinked, confused. “…Does that logic even make sense?”

Had Qu Chunjun already betrayed her in such a short time?

Yet she had to admit Qu Chunjun’s words held some truth. She wasn’t as angry as she’d expected—or perhaps she wasn’t angry at all.

Even though Qu Lingyue’s actions just now weren’t much different from before, Song Tai had inexplicably found herself charmed.

So Qu Lingyue’s politeness is this effective?

No, wait—did I really fall for just two apologies?

Song Tai forcibly suppressed her chaotic thoughts.

Though it felt like no time had passed, by the time they descended the mountain, it was nearly evening.

It was just about time to head back.

Her mind was still reeling from what had happened earlier, making her somewhat distracted.

Qu Chunjun stood beside her, unusually keeping her gaze fixed on Song Tai’s face.

Song Tai got into the car and buckled her seatbelt. As she habitually glanced back, her eyes unexpectedly met Qu Chunjun’s.

Those eyes were so cold and detached that they stirred no hint of desire within her. Feeling a twinge of unease, she had always tried to avoid direct eye contact with Qu Chunjun.

Yet she couldn’t deny that Qu Chunjun’s eyes were also strikingly beautiful, their corners curving inward with a smooth, graceful line, mirroring her own restrained elegance.

Song Tai quickly averted her gaze, breaking eye contact. “…What’s wrong?”

Qu Chunjun shook her head, but her gaze remained fixed on Song Tai.

“Oh,” Song Tai replied, then suddenly remembered something. Leaning against the car window, she waved her phone at Qu Chunjun. “I’ll text you when I get home. Make sure you reply!”

Qu Chunjun nodded and silently withdrew her gaze.

Song Tai blinked in surprise.

Suddenly, she had the feeling that Qu Chunjun had been waiting for her to say those words. Was that really the case?

Instead of speaking directly, she had deliberately tried to catch Song Tai’s attention.

What if Song Tai hadn’t noticed?

How had she never realized Qu Chunjun had such a personality?

But in this remote place, where one rarely saw another living soul, occasional visits were bearable. If Song Tai had to stay here permanently, she felt she would probably go mad.

Even the most reserved person must crave human interaction, right? Hmm, Qu Chunjun probably needs someone to talk to as well.

She didn’t realize how she was projecting her own volunteer’s lens onto the situation.

“I’ll come see you again next month.”

As soon as the words left her lips, Song Tai felt even more like a lonely old woman. She smiled, her eyes crinkling, and waved. “Then I’ll be going now.”

Qu Chunjun’s gaze flickered slightly, exchanging a silent glance with Qu Lingyue behind Song Tai.

Then she nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.

The smile was fleeting, vanishing as quickly as it appeared.

Perhaps it was the fading light, but Song Tai couldn’t quite believe her eyes, wondering if she had imagined it.

Was Qu Chunjun actually smiling?

Before she could get a clearer look, the car had already driven away.

Whether Qu Lingyue had genuinely changed her ways or not, she remained silent throughout the ride.

The atmosphere was heavy and stagnant.

Song Tai’s fingers fidgeted on her knee, the awkwardness making her unconsciously smooth the fabric. Seeking a conversation starter, she turned to Qu Lingyue. “When is your band releasing its new song?”

Qu Lingyue, always prompt to answer, replied immediately, “Do you want to hear it?”

Song Tai would never admit she was intrigued by that unfinished demo. She hedged, “Just curious about what the final version will sound like.”

“It hasn’t been recorded yet,” Qu Lingyue said. “Right now, we only have an unpolished demo. Once it’s finished, I’ll let you be the first to hear it.”

Song Tai: “…That’s not what I meant. I was just asking casually.” She hadn’t even said she wanted to hear it.

Qu Lingyue: “Mm.”

What’s with the “mm”? What does that even mean? Song Tai couldn’t help but mentally grumble.

What’s going on? Qu Lingyue never initiates conversations, yet now I’m the one feeling awkward.

But she didn’t want to force a conversation either.

She glanced out the window, pretending to be sleepy, and covered her mouth with her hand as she let out a soft yawn.

“You can lean on me,” Qu Lingyue suddenly said.

Song Tai’s feigned drowsiness vanished instantly. She shook her head, still remembering what had happened with Wang Luo earlier.

Oh right, Wang Luo.

She’d been deliberately ignoring Wang Luo for days, almost forgetting about her entirely.

I wonder if Wang Luo and Chen Ling have made up yet.

Hesitantly, she pulled out her phone, wanting to open their chat and ask. After a few seconds of hesitation, she changed her mind and put the phone back.

Never mind. I shouldn’t get involved.

By the time the car entered the city, it was completely dark.

Song Tai asked, “Where should I drop you off? Do you have a place to go?”

Qu Lingyue looked at her. “No.”

Song Tai choked, suddenly at a loss for words. She had only asked out of politeness, never expecting Qu Lingyue to be so blunt, leaving her no room to back down.

How could Qu Lingyue possibly have nowhere to go?

Song Tai had lived in that apartment with Qu Fengling for three years and had never once seen Qu Lingyue there.

Qu Lingyue must have other places to stay.

Besides, even if she truly had nowhere to go, surely she had friends? Her social skills couldn’t be that poor.

And even without friends, she could at least turn to her bandmates for help.

Song Tai even suspected Qu Lingyue was doing this on purpose—deliberately feigning weakness to soften her heart.

Their relationship was nowhere near the level where Qu Lingyue could casually ask for help.

Song Tai’s face hardened with suspicion. “Don’t lie to me.” Just when she had started to see Qu Lingyue in a slightly better light, she felt her guard go up again, like the boy who cried wolf.

Qu Lingyue smiled faintly. “Just kidding. Drop me off anywhere.”

Song Tai thought Qu Lingyue was just saying that casually, but as soon as the words left her lips, Qu Lingyue picked up a small equipment bag from beside her leg. A larger bag was in the trunk, making it clear she was serious.

“Are you sure?” Song Tai asked.

She immediately regretted the question, realizing she might be the one with the problem. When Qu Lingyue had been proactive, Song Tai had thought she was acting strangely. But now that Qu Lingyue was acting normally, Song Tai found herself rushing to show concern.

Qu Lingyue nodded. “We’re already in the city center. There’s no danger. Just drop me off here.”

Song Tai had no real reason to stop her. “Driver, pull over.”

Qu Lingyue got out of the car and stood by the roadside, carrying the two equipment bags. In the dim night, illuminated by the passing cars, her eyes gazed steadily at Song Tai.

Song Tai suddenly felt a pang of annoyance. She should have asked the driver to go further before stopping. The streetlights here were too dim.

Everything around her was silent.

Song Tai gazed blankly at her surroundings.

She heard something fall to the ground, or perhaps it was the sound of a heartbeat—thump, thump—each beat echoing in her ears.

Suddenly, she remembered: it was the sound of spores falling to the ground, as Qu Lingyue had told her.

These spores, landing in the damp soil, rapidly absorbed nutrients and transformed into clusters of snow-white mycelia.

Song Tai screamed and turned to flee, but accidentally stumbled into a woman’s arms.

The woman stared intently at her, her gaze like flames revealed after a mask had been peeled away, burning fiercely in the dimness, wrapping around her tightly.

A hand gripped the back of her neck, and then those cold lips pressed against hers.

Song Tai tilted her head back, her nose catching a familiar scent emanating from Qu Lingyue—a faint, plant-like fragrance, gentle to the point of being almost secretive. This peaceful aroma easily lowered one’s guard.

Thus, Song Tai looked at her in confusion, feeling no urge to resist, and naturally made no move to fight back.

The woman suddenly smiled. “Forgive me. May I kiss you?”

Though she asked the question, she gave Song Tai no chance to respond.

Icy fingers quietly gripped her ankle, forcing Song Tai to bend her leg.

The woman forcefully pried open her lips, her heavy breath pressing down, leaving her no escape, until even her will grew hazy.

Song Tai’s breathing grew rapid and erratic, her neck arched back as she suddenly snapped her eyes open.

Recognizing the familiar surroundings of her room, she closed her eyes again, as if drained of all strength, fine beads of sweat clinging to the tip of her nose.

In disbelief, she raised a hand to touch her lips, the lingering sensation of being coldly devoured still present.

Damn it, she thought. I dreamed of Qu Lingyue again.