I Don't Want to Have Little Mushrooms with You - Chapter 45

Darkness enveloped her as the sky outside the window had already grown dim.

The atmosphere was quiet, broken only by the sound of their breathing.

Qu Lingyue wrapped her arms around Song Tai from behind, resting her cheek against her shoulder. Her embrace was loose, as if Song Tai could easily slip free and walk away whenever she chose.

She had completely surrendered the decision to Song Tai.

Song Tai snapped back to reality.

Beside her ear, Qu Lingyue’s breathing was strained and rapid, the darkness clearly making her uncomfortable. Yet even so, she had chosen to remain in this state.

Qu Lingyue’s vulnerability was so direct and honest—almost too honest. It reminded Song Tai of how Wangwang would nuzzle her with his nose, a gesture of affection and a plea for her to stay.

This sincerity left Song Tai unable to muster any resentment.

If Qu Lingyue had made an obnoxious demand or, like before, tried to keep her against her will, Song Tai would have rejected her immediately. She didn’t respond well to such tactics.

But at that moment, Qu Lingyue simply held her quietly, turned off the lights, and completely bared her vulnerability before her, all for a harmless request:

Just stay with me a little longer.

Song Tai’s voice softened slightly. Even though she understood Qu Lingyue’s intentions, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy. “…Let go of me first.”

“No,” Qu Lingyue replied.

Song Tai hesitated for a few seconds, then sighed in resignation. “I won’t leave yet. Let go.”

The arms around her waist loosened slightly, still wary.

Song Tai took a step forward and reached out to switch on the light, illuminating the room once more.

Qu Lingyue stared at her intently, as if needing confirmation that she would truly stay, afraid she might still leave.

Once assured of Song Tai’s decision, Qu Lingyue visibly relaxed, her eyes instantly brightening with a smile.

Song Tai felt a little awkward under her gaze and awkwardly turned her head away. Is she really that happy? she wondered. It’s not like I agreed to some grand request.

“Let’s be clear,” Song Tai emphasized deliberately. “I can stay with you for a little while, but just a little while.”

Song Tai wanted to make it clear that she wasn’t falling for Qu Lingyue’s act. She was only staying because Qu Lingyue was a good person, and she shouldn’t try this tactic again.

Yet, a subtle sense of pleasure stirred within her.

This pleasure stemmed from Qu Lingyue’s need for her, a need so strong that Qu Lingyue had willingly revealed her vulnerability without reservation.

Qu Lingyue noticed Song Tai’s contentment and, with a gentle nod, asked, “Shall we watch a movie?”

Movies typically lasted only one to two hours.

Song Tai glanced at the time. While watching a movie would mean getting home a bit late, it was still within a reasonable timeframe.

She nodded. “Alright.”

Qu Lingyue drew the curtains and turned on the projector.

The two settled side-by-side on the sofa.

They ultimately chose a classic musical romance film.

In the film, the two leads danced hand-in-hand under the night sky, their mutual attraction palpable. Though their hearts fluttered with unspoken feelings, they used the dance as a way to test the waters, each hoping to break through the paper-thin barrier between them.

The moonlight shone bright and clear, casting their dancing figures in a soft, ethereal glow. The scene was undeniably beautiful.

Song Tai felt a bit thirsty and wanted some water. She tilted her head slightly, but before she could speak, Qu Lingyue had already risen and poured her a glass of warm water.

Song Tai took the glass. “…Thank you.”

For some reason, this scene felt strangely familiar.

She cradled the glass and took a few sips, easing the dryness in her throat. She casually set the glass down on the table beside her.

Turning her head, she noticed Qu Lingyue’s gaze wasn’t fixed on the movie screen but was instead intently focused on her.

Direct and unwavering.

“…” Song Tai felt self-conscious under her intense stare. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Qu Lingyue: “Because I really want to look at you.”

The words were too intimate, leaving Song Tai unsure how to respond. She mumbled, “Stop looking. Watch the movie.”

Qu Lingyue obediently agreed, but her gaze remained fixed on Song Tai’s face.

Song Tai: “I said stop looking!”

She tried to forcefully turn Qu Lingyue’s head away.

Instead, Qu Lingyue suddenly reached out and gently grasped her wrist.

The atmosphere instantly stilled, leaving only the movie’s soundtrack echoing in the room, now tinged with a subtle tension.

After a few seconds, cool lips tentatively brushed against hers.

Song Tai instinctively closed her eyes.

Suddenly, Song Tai snapped out of her daze, turned her head, and feigned indifference. “No, your kissing skills are terrible.”

But the thought reminded her of Qu Lingyue’s numerous exes, the scandalous drama that had once surrounded her, with new girlfriends every month.

Song Tai mocked mercilessly, “Were those exes of yours even real?”

Qu Lingyue smiled, neither denying her words nor showing any anger. Instead, she leaned in and kissed the corner of Song Tai’s lips, whispering softly, “Then teach me.”

Song Tai’s heart went numb, and she froze for a long moment.

She wavered, but still couldn’t commit.

Her relationship with Qu Lingyue was ambiguous. The previous kiss had been impulsive, a reaction to her expectations being defied.

But now she was perfectly clear-headed. If she agreed, their relationship would inevitably progress beyond this point.

Yet she hadn’t decided if she wanted to start a new relationship.

Qu Lingyue lowered her gaze, her hazel eyes radiating a gentle warmth as they quietly reflected Song Tai’s image.

“Teach me, okay?”

Perhaps Qu Lingyue’s current demeanor was too harmless, giving Song Tai a sense of superior control.

It created the illusion that no matter what she did, Qu Lingyue would accept it.

Qu Lingyue’s current posture was simply too captivating.

Qu Lingyue hadn’t asked for anything more, just a kiss.

Just a kiss, Song Tai told herself.

She straightened up and cupped Qu Lingyue’s face.

The first kiss had been driven entirely by her desire for revenge.

The second kiss, earlier that morning, had been more of a momentary lapse in judgment.

But this time, she could no longer deny Qu Lingyue’s undeniable attraction.

Each kiss had been different, but this time, she was completely in control.

This time was entirely different.

Qu Lingyue kept her word, letting Song Tai set the pace and following her lead completely.

Song Tai leaned in, lowered her head, and gently bit Qu Lingyue’s lip.

Qu Lingyue watched her intently, as if trying to absorb every movement into her gaze.

Song Tai, feeling a little shy under that intense stare, said, “Close your eyes.”

Qu Lingyue closed her eyes, her long, curled lashes resting quietly against her cheeks, waiting for Song Tai to kiss her.

Qu Lingyue’s appearance wasn’t conventionally gentle. On the contrary, her deeper-set eyes, distinctive raven-blue shoulder-length hair, and the assertive aura of a band drummer gave her an almost aggressive edge.

Song Tai hadn’t expected her to be so obedient, so compliant.

This unexpected docility made their kiss seem almost tender, and it stirred a long-dormant sense of pleasure and excitement within Song Tai.

Compared to someone naturally gentle, the tenderness displayed by someone with a flamboyant personality was far more impactful.

Time seemed to melt away until their lips and tongues grew numb, and they finally parted, breathless.

Song Tai reached up to touch Qu Lingyue’s cheek.

Qu Lingyue didn’t speak, her breathing ragged, her gaze intense and unwavering, burning into Song Tai with a heat that made her blush.

“Can I kiss you?”

Song Tai touched the warmth on her face and turned her head. “Didn’t we just kiss?”

Qu Lingyue replied earnestly, “That was you teaching me, you kissing me. Now I want to kiss you.”

Such a flimsy excuse.

Song Tai was momentarily speechless, yet she didn’t refuse. She couldn’t deny her own feelings; she wanted to continue the kiss as well.

Qu Lingyue had already grasped the back of her neck, pulling her into a forceful kiss.

The movie played on, but neither of them paid any attention.

Qu Lingyue held Song Tai close, her arms having quietly encircled her waist.

The power dynamic had subtly shifted.

Qu Lingyue’s slightly cool lips gradually moved, pressing against her cheek…

Song Tai let out a muffled groan, snapped back to reality, and instinctively glanced out the window. Through the gap in the curtains, she saw the sky was impossibly dark. She pressed down on Qu Lingyue’s hand, which was trying to continue their intimacy.

The last vestiges of her rationality urged her to refuse—

No, she couldn’t continue.

It was already too late; she needed to go home. Song Xuehe would be worried.

“May I continue?” Qu Lingyue sensed her hesitation, her fingertips lightly twisting as she asked with genuine concern, placing the decision entirely in Song Tai’s hands.

Song Tai struggled internally.

She shouldn’t continue. She should refuse her, her rational mind insisted.

But her body had already adapted to Qu Lingyue’s scent during their earlier kiss, feeling a pleasurable anticipation for what might come next.

She couldn’t deny it: she wanted to keep kissing Qu Lingyue, and she wanted her to do more.

Qu Lingyue chuckled softly. “I understand.”

Qu Fengyue was young and impulsive, driven by the thrill of their age difference.

Qu Lingyue wasn’t as reckless as Qu Fengyue, but she wasn’t as overly gentle as Qu Fengling either.

After her initial awkwardness, Qu Lingyue almost always managed to meet her needs perfectly.

It was like a bottle of ice-cold cola, fizzing with refreshing bubbles that never felt overwhelming, only exhilarating.

Fine beads of sweat dotted Song Tai’s nose as her will wavered, her body leaning heavily against Qu Lingyue’s shoulder.

Whether it was a moment of weakness or a sudden impulse, she thought, I doubt I’ll regret this.

The sensations coursing through my body in this moment don’t lie.

Time passed, unnoticed.

The phone, tossed aside earlier, suddenly rang, startling Song Tai awake. Reason returned, and she managed to say with difficulty, “It’s a call.”

She tried to reach for it.

But Qu Lingyue had already snatched the phone with her free hand.

Before Song Tai could even glimpse the caller’s name on the screen, Qu Lingyue’s fingers swiped across the display, and the ringing abruptly stopped.

Leaning against Qu Lingyue’s chest, Song Tai blinked away the tears clinging to her lashes, steadying her breath. “Who was calling?”

Her attention wasn’t really on the phone, though. It was elsewhere.

The sudden interruption had shattered the perfect atmosphere they’d been building.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, unable to adjust to Qu Lingyue’s body temperature, she murmured, “Your fingers are too cold. You should go outside first…”

Qu Lingyue wanted to explain, but before she could speak, a voice came through the phone, its tone strangely heavy. “Baby?”

Song Tai froze, her mind blank for a few seconds. Then, snapping back to reality, she stared at Qu Lingyue in disbelief.

Qu Lingyue hadn’t hung up—she’d answered the call directly.