I Don't Want to Have a Baby with You - Chapter 8

Song Tai instinctively glanced at Chen Ling, her smile fading as her tone turned unnatural. “Why do you have this too?”

“I’ve been using this brand ever since I brought Wangwang home,” Chen Ling replied casually, glancing at the screen during the red light, her expression calm. “Actually, I was the one who recommended it to Xiao Qu back then.”

Her voice was gentle, laced with amusement as she teased, “Hmm? Has Caicai forgotten so quickly?”

Really? Song Tai hadn’t noticed before. Maybe she really had forgotten.

Unconsciously, Song Tai let out a sigh of relief.

She trusted Chen Ling.

Chen Ling, seemingly oblivious to the shift in her mood, chuckled and said, “You can open it and check. The cat might be in the study—go ahead and look.”

This was in response to Song Tai’s earlier joking remark: There’s nothing I can’t see, right?

“No need,” Song Tai shook her head, the strange tension dissipating once more.

Chen Ling had mentioned recently that she was about to start living with her girlfriend. That meant Chen Ling’s home was no longer just her own private space.

But Song Tai wasn’t familiar with Chen Ling’s girlfriend—she had only seen photos and never met her in person.

Opening it without permission would be impolite. She couldn’t cross that boundary.

And… she still felt uneasy about cameras.

She shook her phone lightly, curling her lips into a smile. “I’ll just look at the photos.”

Wangwang was a Siamese cat Chen Ling had adopted, with round, sapphire-blue eyes. Song Tai had even accompanied her to pick out the kitten back then.

Chen Ling really loved cats.

Her photo album was filled with pictures of the cat, and even her phone wallpaper was a photo taken four years ago when the two of them had gone to buy the kitten—Song Tai cradling the tiny cat in her palms, its innocent, watery eyes gazing at the camera.

The focus of the photo was entirely on the kitten. No one would notice that in the background, Song Tai, holding the cat, had a glimpse of her fair chin and lips visible.

Even Song Tai herself hadn’t noticed.

Satisfied after browsing through the cat photos, she was about to exit the album and return the phone to Chen Ling when her finger accidentally swiped to another image.

Two hands, intimately intertwined. The one on top—with a small red mole on the wrist bone—was unmistakably Chen Ling’s. Her slender fingers pressed down with a domineering possessiveness over the other hand, which only revealed a hint of snow-white fingertips, curled weakly.

…That must be Chen Ling’s girlfriend.

Instantly, Song Tai froze in embarrassment, her ears burning red. She pretended to look out the window, then quickly handed the phone back to Chen Ling like it was a hot potato, not daring to linger in case she stumbled upon something even more private.

Chen Ling had always been reserved, cool and detached. Who would’ve thought she’d take photos like this?

Logically, there was nothing particularly scandalous about the image, yet it felt more impactful than an outright nude.

But then again, it made sense. Chen Ling and her girlfriend were deeply in love—it was natural to get carried away in the moment.

Besides, it was just an ordinary hand-holding photo. Nothing explicit. Perfectly normal.

It was only surprising because it was Chen Ling.

Song Tai mentally reassured herself.

After a while, the heat in her ears subsided, and she feigned composure. “You should introduce us sometime.”

Chen Ling kept her eyes on the road, letting out a puzzled, “Hmm?”

Song Tai pouted slightly and poked her shoulder. “What do you mean ‘hmm’? She’s your girlfriend. You’ve been together for so long—five or six years, right?”

“Not five or six,” Chen Ling corrected seriously, a faint but genuine smile flickering in her eyes. “Seven years. We got together when she was eighteen.”

Seven years—it sounded like an eternity.

Come to think of it, Song Tai’s first girlfriend had also been someone she started dating the moment she turned eighteen. She had realized her sexual orientation early, falling for an older schoolmate before she was even an adult. But Song Xuehe had been strict with her, forbidding her from dating too young. So the moment she came of age, she had eagerly pursued her first love—that same senior.

Chen Ling was two years older than her, the same age as that first love.

Though by now, Song Tai had long forgotten what her first love even looked like. Too much time had passed. She only remembered that the girl had long black hair, dimples, and a gentle smile. Beyond that, nothing came to mind.

Yet here was Chen Ling, still with her first love, about to move in together. It wasn’t easy.

Song Tai nodded half-heartedly. “Yeah, yeah, seven years. Seven years and I’ve never even met her. Don’t you think it’s about time?”

She had brought this up several times before, and Chen Ling always had an excuse.

Always too busy with work. But was she really so busy that she couldn’t spare even a single meeting? Was Song Tai not an important enough friend to Chen Ling? Why, after seven years together, was she still being kept at arm’s length?

If not for the photos she’d seen, Song Tai might have suspected Chen Ling was lying to her.

The car stopped abruptly at a red light. Chen Ling turned, the shadows of the streetlights crawling across her sharp features, lending her an almost inhuman air.

Her gaze settled quietly on the small cluster of vivid hickeys at Song Tai’s neck—like a patch of clinging mycelium—before she spoke, her tone light. “We’ll see when there’s time. You’ll meet her eventually. She’s just very busy right now.”

Song Tai blinked. “Still busy with work?”

From the fragments Chen Ling had shared, her girlfriend seemed like a fiercely career-driven woman. Probably impressive.

Chen Ling’s gaze drifted upward. At Song Tai’s words, she stared into her eyes, lips quirking inexplicably, as if hinting at something. “Who knows?”

The car started moving again. Song Tai frowned, finding the answer odd. What did that mean? If their relationship was good, how could Chen Ling not know?

And that look just now—it had been strange. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it had sent a shiver down her spine.

Yet when she met Chen Ling’s eyes again, there was nothing.

Before she could dwell on it further, they arrived home.

Chen Ling didn’t linger. Instead of driving into the underground garage, she stopped right in front of the building.

The rain hadn’t let up—if anything, it was pouring harder now. Through the wet windshield, the downpour looked like a cascading curtain. Chen Ling shrugged off her coat.

Still warm from her body heat, the jacket enveloped Song Tai completely, leaving only her eyes exposed. She froze in surprise.

Chen Ling explained, “No umbrella in the car. Make do with this.”

“Run fast. Don’t get soaked—you’ll catch a cold,” Chen Ling added softly.

Song Tai gave a small “Oh,” then dashed out, sprinting to the shelter of the awning. Unwrapping herself, she hugged the coat to her chest and waved at Chen Ling to signal she was fine.

Chen Ling smiled at her through the rain, waving back and gesturing for her to hurry upstairs, waiting until she was inside before leaving.

Song Tai hugged Chen Ling’s jacket tightly to her chest, feeling much lighter in her heart as she turned to go upstairs.

Lately, because of her divorce from Qu Fengling, she had taken some of her frustration out on Chen Ling.

She didn’t like the feeling of being at odds with Chen Ling. Chen Ling had a calm temperament and rarely got angry, so most of their disagreements were one-sided on Song Tai’s part, making her feel like an unreasonable child throwing a tantrum.

Once home, she hung Chen Ling’s rain-dampened jacket aside. Through the connecting balcony, Song Tai noticed that the neighbor across the way also seemed to have their lights on—still awake—but when she looked again, the faint glow instantly went dark.

Dismissing it, Song Tai averted her gaze and bent down to change into slippers. Suddenly, her phone buzzed. She thought it might be Chen Ling checking if she’d gotten home safely.

Smiling, she picked up her phone to reply.

But it was her mother, Song Xuehe, reminding her not to forget about tomorrow’s trip to Miao Tan—the driver would pick her up on time in the morning.

Song Tai’s good mood instantly plummeted.

“Got it,” she replied reluctantly.