Little Duckling - Chapter 34

The taxi ride home from the karaoke bar took over forty minutes. Throughout the journey, Jian Xin kept chatting on the phone, sharing anecdotes from her day—trivial stories about herself and others, really nothing worth mentioning.

Yet she desperately wanted to tell Yan Lu, hoping even the smallest detail might stir a memory of their past. To her, that would be enough.

Yan Lu listened quietly, responding with only an occasional murmur. There was no music playing on her end, just the soft tapping of keys that somehow brought a sense of calm.

It seemed companionship could be this simple: the intermittent keyboard clicks, the creak of a swivel chair, the sounds of Yan Lu getting up to fetch water, and the occasional rustling from Ya Ya and the dogs.

These sounds made Jian Xin feel Yan Lu was right there with her.

But the ride was too short. Just as she felt she had so much more to say, the driver pulled over, shouting in his thick local accent, “We’re here, miss!”

“Oh!” Jian Xin quickly opened the car door, bracing herself against the cold wind with her crutch.

The car drove off, and she hunched her shoulders, staring at the call on her phone, unsure whether to hang up.

“I’m here,” Yan Lu said.

“Mm,” Jian Xin replied, drawing her neck in and taking a few slow steps forward. “At the entrance of the residential complex.”

“It’s too late. I’ll hang up when you reach your door.”

“You’re really going out of your way,” Jian Xin said, a secret delight blooming in her heart.

We didn’t finish our conversation earlier, she thought. I’ll walk a little slower, at least until we’ve finished talking.

The winter night wind was bone-chilling, numbing her cheeks but unable to extinguish the smile in her eyes.

The moment the call ended, she gently unlocked her front door.

It was two in the morning. The house was dark and silent.

Jian Xin double-locked the door, tiptoed into the bedroom, quickly washed up, and burrowed into the cold bed, which she hadn’t turned on the electric blanket for.

So cold…

She shivered, ducked her head under the covers, and picked up her phone, which had instantly fogged over. After wiping it off, she texted Yan Lu: Thank you for tonight, ducky! Goodnight!

Finally, she closed her heavy eyelids, shivering.

In her drowsy state, her phone vibrated.

Jian Xin took a deep breath, wanting to check the reply, but her hand felt stuck, unable to move even a millimeter.

Her body no longer felt as exhausted. She instinctively opened her eyes and, as expected, had transformed back into a duck.

I knew I shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the car!

Even though she hadn’t been here for the past few days, she still needed to be cautious when sleeping. Just because she hadn’t been here recently didn’t mean she wouldn’t return.

Thank goodness I had the foresight to be careful, or I might have slept myself to death in the Didi driver’s car!

At that moment, Xin Xin was sprawled beside her in a peculiar crescent-moon sleeping position, her warm back pressing Jian Xin to the very edge of the duck nest, pinning half of her wing completely immobile.

What a domineering little rascal with no sense of boundaries!

After struggling for what felt like an eternity, Jian Xin finally managed to slip silently out from under Xin Xin’s weight.

Yan Lu was still at her computer, working on her outline.

The first thing the Little Duck did upon waking in the middle of the night was waddle over to Yan Lu’s feet and let out a couple of quacks.

This would prompt Yan Lu to scoop her up onto her lap.

It was a routine so ingrained that Jian Xin had developed muscle memory for it.

When Yan Lu picked her up again, Jian Xin instinctively craned her neck to glance at the computer screen.

Whether Yan Lu was outlining her novel or writing updates, she always preferred working in windowed mode. Outside the main window, Jian Xin could see either research tabs or relatively quiet chat windows.

In that brief glance, Jian Xin caught sight of Yan Lu’s reply to her:

Goodnight.

So simple, so predictable…

Every message Yan Lu sent her was always this cold and detached.

The fearless, boundless courage she had possessed in her youth had long since vanished.

This coldness always made Jian Xin want to retreat.

But then she remembered: this seemingly indifferent woman had not only found her a great opportunity but also reminded her daily to do stretches and even stayed up late to listen to her ramble endlessly on voice chat. This made Jian Xin feel like she still had a chance.

Yet she couldn’t shake the fear that it was all wishful thinking.

Yan Lu’s actions might not mean anything more than gratitude.

If that were the case, wouldn’t Jian Xin’s persistence become annoying?

As Jian Xin pondered this with a headache, the screen suddenly changed.

She looked up and saw that a certain famous Little Fairy had come to visit her ex-boyfriend again!

Lin Xiyu: Darling, are you still awake?

Yan Lu Er Qi: Yeah

“Gah!” What’s she doing here?!

“Aaaaaaah!” It’s so late! Do female celebrities never sleep?!

The Little Duck had only quacked twice before her owner gently pinched her flat, quacking beak shut.

Yan Lu rubbed the Little Duck’s chest, soothingly cooing, “Cauliflower, be good and don’t wake Xin Xin again.”

Jian Xin: “……”

This woman’s voice is so gentle when she says that. Too bad the “Xin Xin” she’s talking about isn’t me.

The Little Duck flapped her wings and flew onto the computer desk, stubbornly blocking the keyboard with her body.

A moment later, Yan Lu patted her right wing, gradually nudging her aside until she could place her hands back on the keyboard and resume chatting with Lin Xiyu.

The Little Duck sulked nearby, her beady eyes fixed on the chat window.

Lin Xiyu couldn’t sleep and had come to Yan Lu to vent her frustrations.

Her complaints were a jumbled mess, as if every corner of the world was filled with grievances.

First, she criticized a recent variety show, complaining that the production team was disrespectful and only cared about creating drama. Then she mentioned a guest on the show, saying they had no sense of propriety in their words or actions.

Immediately afterward, the conversation inexplicably shifted to an actor with whom Yan Lu had previously been paired for promotional purposes. Lin Xiyu accused the actor of “playing the victim to purify their image,” spreading rumors behind her back, and sabotaging their on-screen chemistry. She claimed that after their partnership ended, the actor’s subsequent dramas had all flopped, leading them to secretly try to rekindle their connection by leaking news of a potential reunion project.

Next, she complained about the weather, her hectic schedule, and even the taste of the airplane meal she’d had that night.

It was clear that the sweet and demure “Little Fairy” she presented to the public was, in reality, seething with inner rage, so furious that she found fault with everything around her.

Yan Lu silently observed these furious outbursts, occasionally chiming in with her own curses to support Lin Xiyu’s rants.

Jian Xin, who had never followed celebrity gossip, watched the drama unfold with wide-eyed astonishment.

She was not only stunned by the sheer chaos of the situation but also by the fact that Lin Xiyu would share such unfiltered thoughts with Yan Lu, even mentioning the targets of her ire by name without any attempt at discretion.

If these chat logs were leaked, Lin Xiyu would undoubtedly dominate the trending topics for days.

What exactly is their relationship?!

How can they trust each other so completely?!

This is clearly not the kind of bond you’d expect between an actress and the author of the original work after just one collaboration!

How could they?!

How could they reveal such irrefutable evidence of their close relationship just when I was finally deciding to pursue Yan Lu?!

Don’t they realize how cruel this is?!

Little Duck grew increasingly agitated, nearly jumping out of her seat.

Having finally finished venting her frustrations, Lin Xiyu abruptly changed the subject, sending a message that left Little Duck completely bewildered.

Lin Xiyu: Ugh, let’s not dwell on this. It’s late, and all this negativity is exhausting. Thanks for listening to my rant for so long.

Lin Xiyu: Anyway, how’s things on your end?

Yan Lu Er Qi: How’s what?

Lin Xiyu: Your progress!

Yan Lu Er Qi: Signed the contract.

Lin Xiyu: Are you doing this on purpose?!

Lin Xiyu: That’s not what I meant!

Yan Lu Er Qi: Returned to Nanjiang. Stayed out until almost 2 AM tonight.

Yan Lu Er Qi: She said she was scared on the way home and asked me to keep her company on a voice call.

Jian Xin unconsciously stood up, her rear sticking out and neck craned forward, her duck-like beak nearly pressing against the computer screen in astonishment.

In the next moment, Yan Lu nudged her aside.

Lin Xiyu: Did you answer the call?

Yan Lu Er Qi: Yeah.

Lin Xiyu: What did you talk about?

Yan Lu Er Qi: Nothing much. She just rambled about random stuff.

Lin Xiyu: Sounds like a good thing. She’s clearly eager to share her thoughts with you.

Yan Lu Er Qi: So?

Lin Xiyu: Aren’t you happy about that?

Little Duck turned to look at Yan Lu.

Yan Lu stared at Lin Xiyu’s question, her fingers hovering over the keyboard for a long moment before slowly typing out four words.

Yan Lu Er Qi: I don’t know.

She doesn’t know?

Jian Xin tilted her head, a question mark seemingly sprouting from her round skull.

Lin Xiyu was rendered speechless by this reply. After a long pause, she finally responded with a I have nothing more to say to you emoji.

Little Duck opened her beak, but ultimately didn’t dare to quack.

Her gaze flickered between the computer screen and Yan Lu, finally catching up with the rest of their conversation after what felt like an eternity.

Lin Xiyu: In this life, you can deceive anyone but yourself.

Lin Xiyu: Think carefully about this.

Lin Xiyu: Little Fairy here has been mired in worldly affairs lately and doesn’t have the energy to counsel you.

Yan Lu Er Qi: I don’t need counseling.

Lin Xiyu: You’d better not!

Yan Lu Er Qi: Doesn’t Little Fairy need her beauty sleep?

Lin Xiyu: You’re so heartless! So cruel!

Lin Xiyu: Storms off angrily

Yan Lu Er Qi: Goodnight, Makka Pakka

The conversation ended there, with no further exchanges.

Yan Lu’s gaze grew increasingly distant, her thoughts drifting to some unknown place.

Little Duck couldn’t help but tilt her head, staring blankly at the computer screen.

She had clearly misunderstood. Yan Lu and Lin Xiyu didn’t have the kind of relationship she had imagined.

Was this a good thing?

Perhaps it was, at least for her.

The first sticker, “Angrily Walking Away,” showed Cauliflower with his wings half-extended, waddling down a stone path in the residential complex.

Below it was “Goodnight Makka Pakka,” depicting Xin Xin and Cauliflower sleeping together in the duck nest.

These two stickers alone covered most of the chat interface.

Above them was the single line: “You’re so heartless! You’re so cruel!”

After a brief silence, the chat window suddenly closed.

Little Duck turned to look at Yan Lu, only to find her expression completely normal, as if nothing had just happened.

Jian Xin couldn’t help but think Lin Xiyu’s words had been spot-on.

At least on the surface, Yan Lu really did seem heartless and cruel.

Why is it that some people can hide their true feelings so deeply?

If Jian Xin hadn’t witnessed it firsthand time and again, how could she ever have dared to believe that Yan Lu hadn’t truly let her go?

Feeling unhappy, Jian Xin suddenly stood up, walked over to Yan Lu, and began complaining with her neck stiffened.

“Er er er ga?”

How can you be like this?

“Ga ga ga, ga ga ah ah ah!”

I finally came back, and you’re acting so distant. Is this really necessary?!

“Ga ah!”

What do I have to do to make you tell me the truth?

Jian Xin knew Yan Lu couldn’t understand her complaints, but she couldn’t help but voice them loudly.

“What’s wrong, Cauliflower?” Yan Lu reached out and gently poked the round, tiny duckling’s chest with her index finger, asking softly, “Why are you feeling down?”

“Quack!” I’m just anxious, okay?!

“Actually, Mommy’s not feeling great either…”

“Ugh—” I can tell. You’re blaming me again, aren’t you?

“If there was someone who used to be so, so good to you, and you risked everything to believe in their ‘forever and always,’ only to discover that ‘forever’ was just a casual, empty promise… what would you do?”

“……”

“I don’t blame her. I know that many words are spoken with genuine sincerity, but sincerity doesn’t last… ‘Forever’ only exists as a fantasy in novels.” Yan Lu stroked the duckling’s head, murmuring softly as if in a dream, “She’s back, just like before, wanting to tell me everything as if we’d never been apart…”

“……”

“But it was her who said we weren’t meant to be together…”

The duckling opened its beak and let out a hoarse quack.

Yan Lu tapped its forehead lightly a few times, smiled self-deprecatingly, and continued her unfinished thought.

She said that if trying again would only end in fleeting moments, it would be better to remain a passerby.

Anything was better than confirming once more that they were on different paths.

Little Duck buried its head, remaining silent for a long time before letting out a tiny “Quack.”

Lies, she murmured inwardly.

Yan Lu is lying. I don’t want to be a passerby.

She was lying back then too. Life is so long—we were just kids. How could anyone be certain that we’d only have one path to follow until death?

Words are dead, but people are alive. Why take them so seriously?

I’m adaptable, okay…?

Yan Lu: “Why am I even talking to you? You wouldn’t understand anyway.”

Jian Xin: “……”

Yan Lu closed Q/Q, shut down the document, and finally turned off the computer. She picked up Little Duck from the desk and gently placed it back beside the duck nest.

“Get some rest,” she whispered softly, turning to leave the study and switch off the light.

In the darkness, Little Duck stared at the Corgi sprawled out asleep, motionless and dazed for a long time. Only when Yan Lu emerged from the bathroom did she snap out of her trance, wobbling after her to her feet and following her into the bedroom under her bewildered gaze.

“Why did you follow me?”

“Uh-ah? Quack quack quack!” Why did I follow you? To reason with you, of course!

“It’s late. You should go back to your room and get some sleep.”

“Quack! I can’t sleep!”

Yan Lu crouched down and gently pinched the Little Duck’s beak. “Why are you being so disobedient today? Didn’t you eat enough this afternoon?”

She guessed and stood up. “I’ll get you some more food then.”

“Quack! I’m not hungry!”

Jian Xin, desperate, flew onto the bed. Under Yan Lu’s astonished gaze, she stood on tiptoe, tilted her head back, and vigorously flapped her wings.

“Quack!”

You’re wrong!

“Quack quack quack quack!”

Don’t be so pessimistic!

“Quack-ah!”

Just give him another chance!

Yan Lu stared blankly at the Little Duck, who was dancing and hopping frantically on her bed, flapping her wings and stamping her feet. It took her a long moment to regain her composure.

“Are you trying to keep me company because you can tell I’m upset?”

“Uh-uh—” That’s not exactly it.

Jian Xin awkwardly opened her beak, but before she could speak, Yan Lu had already scooped her up.

In the blink of an eye, a pink duck diaper had appeared on her.

“Quack?”

“I know you don’t like it, but you can’t poop on the bed…” Yan Lu ruffled the duck’s little head. “If you want to keep me company, you have to wear this. If you don’t want to, you can jump down now, and I’ll take it off.”

Jian Xin glanced at the Duck’s diaper, then at the floor.

After a brief hesitation, she took two steps back and shuffled toward the middle of the bed.

The mattress was slightly soft, and she lost her balance, tumbling forward onto her hands and knees.

Yan Lu couldn’t help but chuckle. She switched off the light, burrowed under the covers, tossed her phone aside, and reached out to gently pull the dazed Little Duck, who had wandered to the edge of the pillow, into her arms.

She closed her eyes quickly, her breathing gradually slowing.

Jian Xin didn’t dare move a muscle. She was held lightly in Yan Lu’s embrace, her chest pressed against Yan Lu’s slightly cool forehead.

She barely dared to breathe, simply listening to the soft, rhythmic breaths so close to her.

Even after all these years, Yan Lu still curled up when she slept, remaining perfectly still once she drifted off.

The bedroom was dark, the curtains drawn tight, as if sealing them off from the rest of the world.

In this small, intimate space, they were each other’s only companions.

It was just like that freezing night in her memories…

No matter how much time passed, that memory remained vivid and indelible in her heart.

Jian Xin couldn’t help but wonder if Yan Lu had dismissed her declaration of wanting to be together forever as a mere jest.

If Yan Lu truly believed her to be someone who spoke nothing but nonsense, why had she taken her words about them not being on the same path so seriously?

It made no sense at all…

Little Duck sighed, a hint of resignation in her voice.

Sometimes, she had to admit, memory was a truly magical thing.

Often, you might think memories have faded with time, only for them to suddenly resurface one day, triggered by a person or an event, emerging from the most inconspicuous corners of your mind.

Like a gust of wind sweeping through, stirring up a layer of old dust.

Though tiny, these memories stubbornly shimmered under the sunlight, each faint glimmer whispering:

Remember, they once shone brightly in your life.

Jian Xin recalled the night they first slept together.

Yan Lu had moved into her home, using her towels and wearing her nightgown, every movement and word carried out with such meticulous care.

That evening’s dinner had been quite lavish, as she remembered.

Just like the first time they’d shared a meal in the cafeteria, Yan Lu was so nervous she barely dared to pick up her chopsticks, only scooping up plain white rice from her bowl.

Jian Xin watched beside her, torn between laughter and tears, repeatedly helping Yan Lu pick up food, fearing her mother might notice and ask, “Is it not to your liking?”

If that happened, it would have been unbearably awkward.

Fortunately, Huang He didn’t say anything. She simply helped serve Yan Lu and even cut a large plate of fruit for them after dinner.

That night, as they lay in bed together, she told Yan Lu that she wanted them to be family forever.

This wasn’t just a casual remark; she was absolutely serious!

The moment she returned to school on Sunday, she sent her mother a long, heartfelt message via Q/Q on her phone.

She hadn’t dared to bring it up at home, fearing that a disagreement might arise. Even if she eventually convinced her family, Yan Lu might never feel comfortable living in their house again.

As it turned out, her instincts were correct.

Her mother strongly disapproved of her seemingly naive idea.

For days, she pleaded and argued with her mother, even resorting to sweet-talking her father and begging him to intervene on her behalf.

She knew that her family had always refused to let her keep a cat. Bringing someone home to stay forever seemed like an impossible dream.

Yet she was possessed by an unwavering determination to bring Yan Lu home for good, no matter what her family said.

At that time, she seemed to be thinking: Without Li Xia, how would Lin Xiaoshuang ever have escaped that winter night?

Her youthful arrogance led her to believe she could be someone’s salvation.

So, just like in the novels, she mustered her courage and joyfully became someone else’s sun for a time.

Reaching out to grasp someone mired in the mud and pulling them free—that was probably the coolest thing she’d ever done in her life!

But she hadn’t considered that she wasn’t the protagonist of any story.

She was just an ordinary person, often unable to control even her own emotions. She wasn’t qualified to be anyone’s little sun.

And Yan Lu had never been the stray cat she’d taken in out of kindness, who would obediently stay by her side for life if well-fed and cared for.

She had, after all, oversimplified everything.

So when unexpected troubles and exhaustion struck, she began to waver, suffer, hesitate, and struggle. Countless bitter arguments transformed her into someone she barely recognized.

They had promised to never drift apart.

Yet in the end, she was the one who initiated the breakup.

She thought it was just another ordinary fight, like before. Once their anger cooled, they’d reconcile as always.

But after that one time, there was never another.

The person she thought would never leave her—or, more accurately, the person she believed couldn’t leave her—actually walked away without a backward glance.

She tried everything she could think of, but she couldn’t get Yan Lu to say another word to her.

How could she do this?

That year, she pondered this endlessly, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t understand.

Even in her dreams, she wondered what she could have done to tell Yan Lu that it had just been a moment of anger…

For years, she was consumed by hatred and regret, until those bitter feelings gradually faded away amidst the increasingly hectic days.

And now, at this very moment, they surged back with a vengeance.

She couldn’t help but replay Yan Lu’s earlier words in her mind.

She realized that beneath the cold, hard shell her mother spoke of, there really was a little fool curled up inside.

She had once held onto her, but then carelessly let go.

She had truly regretted it for a long, long, long time…

Now that she had finally caught sight of her again, she couldn’t afford to let go this time.

Jian Xin gently pressed her lips to the forehead of the person beside her, closing her slightly tearful eyes.

Just trust me one more time.

I’ve grown up now.