I Fell In Love With My Rival (GL) - Chapter 27.2

Su Chunyin first called Song Rao to let her know she was safe. Song Rao had been panicking, and as soon as Su Chunyin’s phone reconnected, it buzzed nonstop with missed calls and frantic messages. Now finally hearing her voice, Song Rao sighed in relief.

“Teacher Ning already led the others back to school. Teacher Zhao stayed behind to file a police report and continue searching for you two. You should give her a call too and explain what happened.”

Su Chunyin agreed, then asked, “You didn’t tell my parents, did you?”

Song Rao knew exactly what she meant. “If I hadn’t heard from you soon, I would’ve had to.”

Su Chunyin let out a breath. “My dad’s in Germany and my mom’s at Qingchan Temple. Glad they didn’t have to make a special trip.”

Song Rao shrugged it off. “Compared to your safety, none of that matters. I’m sure your parents would agree.”

Su Chunyin just smiled.

As she hung up and was about to call Teacher Zhao, Fu Erqiu gently held her hand. “No need. I already spoke with her.”

Su Chunyin blinked, glanced at her phone, and realized she had been on the line with Song Rao for over fifteen minutes—plenty of time for Fu Erqiu to explain everything to Teacher Zhao in detail.

She murmured an “Mm” and put her phone away. WeChat was still lighting up with messages—friends and classmates all asking if she was okay. But she felt exhausted and decided to reply later. With Song Rao around, she was sure the word had already spread.

She looked up at the IV drip beside her. The bottle had only emptied halfway. She turned to Fu Erqiu. “You should head home. I still have a while left on this drip—no need to wait for me.”

Fu Erqiu shook her head. “You’re injured. It wouldn’t be convenient.”

Su Chunyin was about to argue that she could call her driver to pick her up, but the thought shifted halfway through. A sudden realization dawned on her.

“…Right, I’m injured. It’s really inconvenient, Qiuqiu-jie.”

She looked at Fu Erqiu with wide, pleading eyes, acting utterly pitiful.

After a moment’s hesitation, Fu Erqiu asked, “There’s no one at your home, is there?”

So, she had overheard the earlier call and figured it out.

Su Chunyin’s eyes darted, and she put on an even more miserable face. “That’s right. No one’s home. Now I’m a patient, I can’t walk well, can’t eat properly, can’t dress myself… There’s no one to take care of me!”

In reality, even if Su Zhi and Xu Yuhui weren’t home, their house was full of attendants and housekeepers. Her injury had nothing to do with eating or dressing. But Su Chunyin selectively left all that out, making herself sound pitiful.

Though Fu Erqiu had been to the Su Chunyin’s household before, she acted like she’d forgotten everything and said hesitantly, “If you don’t mind… you could stay at my place tonight.”

Su Chunyin’s eyes lit up. She’d thought at most Fu Erqiu would help her get checked into a hospital and stay with her until she fell asleep. She hadn’t expected an invitation to stay the night at her house.

She immediately nodded and conveniently ignored everything Fu Erqiu said afterward about being quiet and not disturbing her neighbors.

It was already past 10 PM, nearing 11, and the clinic was in a remote area. If they waited any longer, it would be hard to get home. After discussing it, they decided to take the IV bottle with them in the car.

Fu Erqiu held a cotton swab in one hand, ready to remove the needle once the drip finished.

Thanks to repeated urging, a journey that should’ve taken three hours took just over two. The driver sped them home. Su Chunyin woke up mid-ride and noticed her left hand was suddenly light—Fu Erqiu had quietly removed the needle while she slept.

She smiled at Fu Erqiu. “Thank you.” Then she urged her in a rush, “Quick, help me get inside—I’ve been dripping IV the whole ride, and I really need the bathroom!”

Fu Erqiu’s home was full of twists and turns. Su Chunyin hopped along impatiently. Seeing this, Fu Erqiu simply lifted her in a bridal carry, navigated the narrow corridors, unlocked the door with one hand, turned on the lights, and pointed to the bathroom—all in one smooth motion.

When Su Chunyin hopped out of the bathroom looking thoroughly relieved, she suddenly realized something and narrowed her eyes at Fu Erqiu. “Hey, did you just princess-carry me?”

Fu Erqiu was bending down to organize the shoes by the door. She didn’t respond and went straight to prepare hot water.

Su Chunyin raised her brows. Though Fu Erqiu had always been quiet, she could sense that something had changed. Ever since they’d entered that haunted house—no, ever since she said she wanted to pursue Fu

Erqiu—something about her had started to shift.

But what exactly had changed? Su Chunyin couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Still, her instincts told her it was important.

“Forget it,” she muttered, collapsing onto the sofa and starting to look around.

Fu Erqiu’s home was extremely humble. Anyone with eyes could tell that from outside the door. The wooden panel at the entrance was patched up unevenly. The hallway was pitch dark with no lights, the steep stairs fenced with rusty wires, and the entire building carried the sour stink of garbage—it was right next to a waste disposal site, and the smell wafted over regularly.

Su Chunyin had almost turned around earlier because of the stench. But once inside, the house had no such odor. Instead, it was filled with a light, natural fragrance of herbs.

After pushing the door open and stepping inside, Su Chunyin’s eyes were first drawn to a compact living and dining area, partitioned off from the rest of the unit. Extending toward the back were two small bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom.

The space inside was narrow, but thankfully, the lack of furniture kept it from feeling as cramped as a tiny laundromat. Unlike most homes where the walls were aged and flaking, this place didn’t have peeling paint—because the walls hadn’t been painted at all. They were bare cement, completely undecorated.

She glanced around. The only thing that could be considered “unique” in the entire home was the wall opposite the living room. It was densely covered in certificates of achievement, all belonging to Fu Erqiu. Su

Chunyin walked closer for a better look and saw that starting from first grade, Fu Erqiu had swept up awards in nearly every category. Trophies and plaques that couldn’t be taped up were casually piled on the floor.

Fu Erqiu came out with hot water and saw Su Chunyin standing in front of the wall of certificates. She gently urged, “It’s getting late. Go shower and get some rest. Your ankle is still injured, so standing while you bathe isn’t ideal. We don’t have a bathtub, so just sit on the stool and wipe down with a wet towel.”

Su Chunyin was displeased. She was already critical of how shabby Fu Erqiu’s place looked, and hearing that there wasn’t even a bathtub made her feel even more uncomfortable. “Then how am I supposed to wash up? Why don’t you just come in and help me?” she said sarcastically.

Fu Erqiu looked at her and, to her surprise, actually agreed.

Su Chunyin had spoken half-jokingly, but once they were in the bathroom together, she started to feel anxious. Had she really just entered the bathroom with Fu Erqiu? Wasn’t Fu Erqiu openly into women? Was it really okay for her to undress in front of her?

Suddenly, Xu Chang’s teasing words echoed in her mind: “What if she takes advantage of you?”

At the time, it hadn’t seemed like anything. But now… she was genuinely nervous. What if Fu Erqiu did take advantage of her?

With the expression of someone heading to execution, Su Chunyin followed Fu Erqiu into the bathroom—only to find that “helping her wash” meant helping her shampoo her hair. The rest of the body-washing was up to her. Okay then, clearly she had overthought it.

She shuffled slowly out of the bathroom, her hair and body still dripping wet. Fu Erqiu brought her a towel and a hair dryer, reminding her to dry off completely before going to bed.

Su Chunyin wasn’t sleepy yet, but she was curious about Fu Erqiu’s bedroom. She followed the instructions, quietly setting the hair dryer to its lowest setting and taking her time drying her hair.

Once it was fully dry, she returned the dryer, gave her hair a shake, and caught a whiff of a fresh daisy scent.

So that’s it—Fu Erqiu didn’t wear perfume or use scented detergent. The fragrance on her body came from their shampoo and body wash.

While Fu Erqiu was still in the shower, Su Chunyin waited patiently on the sofa. Her upbringing kept her from barging into someone else’s bedroom uninvited, so she took the time to reply to the friends who had been worrying about her.

About ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened. A wave of steam rolled out, carrying that same clean daisy scent.

Su Chunyin hadn’t intended to notice it, but the fragrance quickly filled the room. She flexed her fingers unconsciously. Now she and Fu Erqiu smelled exactly the same.

Fu Erqiu stepped out, drying her hair with a towel. She had only a bath towel wrapped around her body, leaving large parts of her skin exposed. Su Chunyin glanced once and quickly averted her eyes.

“You…” Fu Erqiu looked at her already-dried hair and pointed toward the room beside the kitchen. “That’s my room. Go rest. If you need anything, just call me.”

With the host’s permission, Su Chunyin limped into Fu Erqiu’s bedroom.

Like the living room, it was bare and minimal—just a narrow single bed and a small desk used as a study table. No other decorations.

She tested the bed by sitting down hard—and nearly bruised her butt. This mattress was unbelievably firm.

Su Chunyin grabbed a nearby blanket and laid it out to soften the bed, then flopped down and rolled around a bit.

The daisy scent lingered here too, and being enveloped in it made her feel as though she were being hugged by Fu Erqiu.

Back on the mountain, Fu Erqiu had carried her for quite a while. And earlier, when they got home, she had even lifted her in a princess carry. But the embrace Su Chunyin now imagined wasn’t a piggyback or a fleeting lift—it was a real, face-to-face, close and intimate hug.

She wrapped her arms around herself, mimicking one.

Fu Erqiu still hadn’t come in, and Su Chunyin got bored lying in bed. Though sleepy, she forced herself to stay up and sat at the desk.

The desk was worn down, covered in scratches and ink stains—clear evidence that it had accompanied Fu Erqiu for years. It was tidy: a few books, some pens, and a small lamp.

She flipped through the books—mostly math and physics workbooks—and quickly lost interest. Instead, she examined the scratches on the surface. Some were childish doodles, including a comic strip about a little dinosaur saving humanity. Others were scribbled Chinese characters, likely from Fu Erqiu’s early writing years.

She was engrossed in her discovery when the door creaked open. Fu Erqiu entered, carrying something green.

Su Chunyin flinched, first at the sudden entrance, then at the strange item in her hands. “What’s that?”

“A straw mat,” Fu Erqiu replied as she laid it out on the floor. The room was too small to fit even a single mat, so she moved the desk to the corner to make space.

While doing so, she caught Su Chunyin eyeing the desk markings. “I made those when I got bored studying as a kid,” she explained offhandedly.

Su Chunyin was surprised. Even top students get bored?

She asked the question aloud. Fu Erqiu glanced at her. “Of course. Studying is a long and dull process. The satisfaction of finally understanding something is rewarding, sure—but that joy doesn’t cancel out how boring the process is.”

Su Chunyin pouted. She could understand the boring part—but that sense of accomplishment? What even was that?

After moving the desk, Fu Erqiu casually flipped through some items before handing her a notebook. “This is the summer tutoring material. Aside from regular notes, I compiled a set of key points. School’s starting soon—go over this before the placement test. You’ll probably see a big jump in your rank.”

Su Chunyin didn’t really care about the notes, but since it was part of their tutoring agreement, she pretended to take it seriously and put the notebook away.

Watching Fu Erqiu still fiddling with the mat, she finally asked, “Why are you laying that out?”

“To sleep on the floor,” Fu Erqiu replied as if it were obvious.

“You’re sleeping on the floor?” Halfway through the sentence, realization dawned on Su Chunyin—was Fu Erqiu really planning to sleep on the floor?

Fu Erqiu’s next words confirmed it. “The bed’s too small, and your foot’s injured. I’ll take the floor.”

“You better not!” Su Chunyin shot up, only to be hit with a sharp pain from her still-swollen ankle. She gritted her teeth and pushed through. “So, this is what you meant by taking care of me? You sleep on the floor while I take your bed? If I’d known this, I wouldn’t have agreed to come! No point in letting you suffer in your own home!”

Fu Erqiu helped her back onto the bed. “It’s a small single. The couch outside’s too short to sleep on.”

Of course Su Chunyin knew that—barely 1.2 meters long and only fit for two people to sit. Sleeping there would be a nightmare for anyone’s back.

She glared. “That’s not what I meant.”

Fu Erqiu looked exasperated. “Then what did you mean?”

Su Chunyin softened. “Just come up. We’ll sleep together.”

Fu Erqiu glanced at the cramped bed. “You’re hurt. What if I bump into you?”

“We’ll sleep head-to-toe. It’s just a twisted ankle, not a severed foot. I’m not made of glass.”

Fu Erqiu looked like she wanted to protest again, but Su Chunyin threw off the blanket impatiently. That shut her up.

She packed away the straw mat, fetched another blanket since Su Chunyin had taken the first for a mattress, then retrieved an old electric fan and set a timer. Once everything was ready, Su Chunyin thought she was finally coming to bed—but instead, Fu Erqiu went to close the curtains.

Growing impatient, Su Chunyin turned her head to see what was taking so long—and froze. “There’s a huge maple tree outside your window?”

Fu Erqiu looked too, her expression softening. “It’s been there since my mom moved in. We can see it from both our windows. Every autumn, its leaves turn red and shimmer under the moonlight. My mom said it gave her a sense of peace and hope. That’s why she named me ‘Qiu’—‘autumn’—to represent hope.”

“I see.” Su Chunyin listened quietly, offering no further comment. She rolled over and flopped onto the bed. “I’m going to sleep.”

Fu Erqiu pulled the curtains shut, then lay down on the other side of the bed.

Perhaps it was too warm with two people in such a tight space, because in the middle of the night, Su Chunyin woke up sweating. She realized she had somehow gravitated toward Fu Erqiu in her sleep. Though they were sleeping head-to-toe, their legs were tangled together in a jumbled mess. No wonder it felt so hot.

The old fan was still rocking from side to side, its motor humming. The sheer curtain by the window fluttered in the breeze.

It was a clear night—no clouds in sight, the stars faint and gentle. A bright moon hung high above, casting its soft glow onto Fu Erqiu’s window.

Through the floating curtain, Su Chunyin saw the ancient maple outside, its roots twisted and deep. A single leaf reached toward the window.

Not too big, not too small, its veins sharp and distinct. Under the moonlight, it cast a perfectly proportioned shadow on the floor.

A leaf that looked exactly like Qiu Ye’s avatar. A shadow that looked exactly like Fu Erqiu’s profile.