My Ex-Girlfriend Said She Was A Fairy - Chapter 21

Finally off work, Ji Qingyi missed the bus again and had to walk home.

 

 

The damp air no longer carried the previous chill, blending with the warmth to make Ji Qingyi feel even more stifled. It was as if mold had sprouted everywhere, permeating the air with a rotting stench.

 

 

Just a few days ago, the air had been crisp and fresh, but now it had turned like this—not only warmer but also more humid. Ji Qingyi sighed. The weather was truly unpredictable, changing in the blink of an eye.

 

 

Tomorrow would be even hotter. Ji Qingyi glanced at the weather forecast and winced at the thought of hiking under the scorching sun. But then again, it was probably just this once a year—she could endure it.

 

 

By the time she reached home, Ji Qingyi felt as though she had walked through a mist, her skin sticky and uncomfortable, as if coated with moisture.

 

 

Too humid… she thought helplessly, staring at the layer of condensation on the door. Stepping inside, she realized the situation was worse—she had forgotten to close the balcony door after hanging the laundry last night. The dampness had seeped in from outside, turning the apartment into a giant steamer. The moment she entered, a wave of oppressive heat and thick, muggy air rushed into her lungs.

 

 

Closing the balcony door now wouldn’t help. She decided to leave it be, hoping the evening breeze might dry things out a bit. Resigned, she headed to the kitchen to cook.

 

 

Everything was damp. Ji Qingyi had to wipe everything down again. After a long day at work, coming home to this was exhausting. She sighed and settled for instant noodles.

 

 

After eating, Ji Qingyi rarely sat on the cool wooden chair in the living room. Leaning against the hard backrest, she ignored the discomfort—there were worse things weighing on her.

 

 

She felt suffocated by the thick, humid air. It wasn’t heavy enough to choke her, but it clung stubbornly to her throat, sticky and oppressive, as if clogging her airways. Breathing became a slow, laborious process—not life-threatening, but deeply unpleasant.

 

 

Her throat ached faintly, a dull pain squeezed out by her low spirits.

 

 

Why am I feeling like this again? Hadn’t she already adjusted to Wen Yuchuan’s presence? But… Ji Qingyi closed her eyes wearily. All her so-called adjustments had been nothing but pretense. The way she still avoided his gaze, afraid his eyes would pull her under again, was proof enough.

 

 

She would inevitably reach her breaking point. It was just that the impending departure of the kitten had triggered some unwanted associations, hastening the arrival of this unbearable mood. Those thoughts made her heart feel as damp as the windows, coated in a layer of clammy condensation.

 

 

So stuffy. The air was thick and stifling, the humidity so dense it felt like her brain had been waterlogged, struggling to function. Maybe I should buy a dehumidifier… Dazed, she wandered to the balcony.

 

 

Even the balcony was damp. Ji Qingyi wiped the moisture off the railing before resting her hands on it. She glanced at the clothes hanging nearby and sighed—if they didn’t dry soon, they’d start smelling of mildew.

 

 

The humid air enveloped her. Though it wasn’t raining, the scent of dampness lingered. Thankfully, as night fell, a faint breeze began to stir, offering some relief from the suffocating mist. It was the sight of the clothes swaying gently that had drawn her to the balcony in the first place.

 

 

 

She shook the cigarette box and pulled one out—leftover from last time, unfinished. The flavor capsule burst, releasing a strawberry scent that filled the air. Ji Qingyi took another shallow drag, exhaling smoke rings while feeling like she was feigning melancholy, as if playing the role of someone heartbroken. The thought amused her because, truthfully, she had nothing to do with matters of the heart right now.

 

 

Ji Qingyi had barely let out a chuckle when she froze—she suddenly heard Wen Yuchuan’s voice.

 

 

“Why aren’t you replying to my messages?”

 

 

Wen Yuchuan’s voice came from the balcony to her left, just over a meter away. It was soft, but the night was unusually quiet, so Ji Qingyi heard it clearly.

 

 

The neighboring balcony was lit. Ji Qingyi knew Wen Yuchuan might step out and catch her at any moment, yet she had still chosen to come outside for the evening breeze.

 

 

A new possibility occurred to her—one she’d overlooked before because she hadn’t wanted to consider it. But… what if she demanded answers to everything? She’d been avoiding it out of fear that Wen Yuchuan might refuse to respond. Yet if she didn’t want to sever ties completely, she needed clarity.

 

 

Distance made indifference easy, but closeness required understanding.

 

 

Otherwise, this inexplicable entanglement would be impossible to sustain. At least, she couldn’t endure it any longer. She’d managed to pretend for the past week, but now the act was unbearable.

 

 

“Aren’t you going to come see him?”

 

 

Ji Qingyi didn’t answer. Wen Yuchuan’s voice turned plaintive as she spoke again.

 

 

She was holding the kitten she’d taken to be cleaned two days ago—a little orange fluffball curled in her arms, its furry tail flicking lazily, as though it had already fully accepted her.

 

 

“He’s leaving tomorrow anyway,” Ji Qingyi said abruptly.

 

 

“Then you should at least say goodbye properly.”

 

 

“……”

 

 

I don’t want to.

 

 

Ji Qingyi didn’t voice it, but the words echoed in her mind. I don’t want to say goodbye.

 

 

“Are you upset?”

 

 

Wen Yuchuan asked when silence fell again.

 

 

“Not really.”

 

 

Ji Qingyi murmured the reply before taking another drag.

 

 

The white smoke rings drifted with the wind, dissolving into the night until not a trace remained.

 

 

“You don’t want to see the kitten, but he wants to see you.”

 

 

Wen Yuchuan spoke again, pinching the kitten’s ear lightly. It let out a soft mewl in response.

 

 

Finally, Ji Qingyi laughed. She turned to look at the kitten, though she couldn’t make out much—just a fuzzy orange ball nuzzling against Wen Yuchuan’s chest.

 

 

“I’ll come over in a bit.”

 

 

After watching the kitten for a while, Ji Qingyi relented. The moment Wen Yuchuan heard this, she set the kitten back inside, staying alone on the balcony with a smile as she gazed at the woman across from her.

 

 

With the kitten gone, Ji Qingyi lost interest in looking at Wen Yuchuan’s balcony and turned back to her original view.

 

 

“Why are you smoking again?”

 

 

“Because I feel like it.”

 

 

“But you usually smoke when you’re in a bad mood,” Wen Yuchuan said, then added with amusement, “Last time, it was because you were annoyed with me, wasn’t it?”

 

 

“…Yeah, but…”

 

 

But what? Ji Qingyi didn’t know how to continue. She was indeed in a bad mood, and it was because of Wen Yuchuan. But… not out of annoyance—it was something sadder.

 

 

“Strawberry again?”

 

 

“Mhm…”

 

 

 

Ji Qingyi responded with a sullen hum.

 

 

She rested her hand on the railing, but before she could take more than a few drags, the cigarette had already burned halfway, dropping a few red embers below. The moment they fell, the dampness snuffed them out, turning them black.

 

 

Wen Yuchuan seemed to have run out of words. She also leaned against the railing, though at a distance—too far to ask for a cigarette or a light. All she could do was tilt her head and watch Ji Qingyi. She sighed softly, unaware of the other’s pain but knowing it was somehow tied to her. Yet, all she could do was watch. Just watch.

 

 

She had considered countless possibilities, thought of many explanations, but they all felt hollow, feeble excuses. Only by showing the other something beyond reality could she make her believe. But… it was precisely because Wen Yuchuan didn’t want Ji Qingyi to see those things that she had chosen to stop her.

 

 

“Alright, I’ll go check on it.”

 

 

Ji Qingyi suddenly spoke, shattering the silence. She exhaled one last smoke ring before stubbing out the cigarette. The artificial fragrance in the air dissipated instantly, the remnants all gathered into the trash bin.

 

 

__

 

 

Wen Yuchuan sensed Ji Qingyi’s low spirits but didn’t know the reason. The feeling made her fear everything was spiraling out of control, that things might take a turn for the worse. Still, she wore her usual lazy, carefree smile as she walked to the entryway and opened the door.

 

 

Ji Qingyi wasn’t as good at pretending. Her eyes still reflected her gloom, though the sight of the kitten lifted her mood slightly. The liveliness of her smile momentarily overshadowed her earlier emotions, and Wen Yuchuan swallowed the words she had been about to say.

 

 

Ji Qingyi rubbed the kitten’s belly and pinched its ears, the soft fur offering a brief respite from her unhappiness. The kitten’s contented purring sounded like a heavenly melody.

 

 

“Can you really bear to give it away now?”

 

 

“But I can’t keep it.”

 

 

“Why can’t you?”

 

 

“Well… there are all sorts of reasons.”

 

 

Ji Qingyi didn’t know either. In truth, there didn’t seem to be any insurmountable obstacles, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the other would leave sooner or later…

 

 

Leave… that word again. Why was she so afraid of something so ordinary? Just because of one breakup? How ridiculous. She mocked herself inwardly, yet she couldn’t help thinking—she couldn’t endure another sudden farewell.

 

 

“Is that so…”

 

 

Wen Yuchuan stared at the kitten sprawled on the blanket, basking in Ji Qingyi’s touch, lost in thought.

 

 

“Do you want to keep it?”

 

 

Ji Qingyi suddenly turned and asked.

 

 

“No, I can’t.”

 

 

“You can’t either…”

 

 

Ji Qingyi stroked the kitten’s chin, speaking slowly.

 

 

“Yeah. At most, I could only keep it for a while.”

 

 

Wen Yuchuan replied absentmindedly, her gaze fixed on the kitten’s blue eyes, which immediately averted hers.

 

 

A while? Why only a while? Was she planning to move or something? Ji Qingyi’s thoughts tangled in confusion, the joy of the soft fur once again overtaken by unease. She tried to cut off her own train of thought, but her mind stubbornly spiraled deeper.

 

 

The one responsible for all this remained indifferent, while she was the only one pointlessly agonizing. Her hands gently caressed the kitten, but in her heart, a quiet resentment simmered.

 

 

 

Wen Yuchuan could only see Ji Qingyi’s back, unable to make out her expression. She simply stared at that adorable little orange cat.

 

 

It looked utterly ordinary, the kind you might see anywhere, and Wen Yuchuan couldn’t detect any special power from it. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Though nothing unusual had happened in the few days since she’d taken it in, she had a nagging sense that something was about to happen. It was better to send it away as soon as possible.

 

 

“We’ll leave at eight-thirty tomorrow morning.”

 

 

Wen Yuchuan saw Ji Qingyi stop petting the cat and speak.

 

 

“Mm, got it.”

 

 

“Afraid you won’t wake up in time.”

 

 

“I will.”

 

 

“Then go to bed early.”

 

 

“Mm.”

 

 

Ji Qingyi responded just as indifferently as usual, then stood up and turned to leave.

 

 

This attitude wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Wen Yuchuan watched Ji Qingyi’s retreating figure and thought as much, yet she still felt something was slightly different—a change so subtle it made her wonder if she was imagining it.

 

 

“Goodnight.”

 

 

Wen Yuchuan hurried to the doorway to say.

 

 

“Mm.”

 

 

“Do I not get a ‘goodnight’ in return?”

 

 

She’s putting on an act again, Ji Qingyi thought, looking at Wen Yuchuan’s downcast eyes.

 

 

But what even is this? What kind of relationship do we have? Why should we be saying goodnight to each other? Ji Qingyi felt her throat tighten, the ache returning. It always hurt unbearably when she was upset.

 

 

She’d deal with this tomorrow. Ji Qingyi took a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

 

 

“Goodnight.”

 

 

She waited until the pain in her throat had eased a little before replying.

 

 

Maybe this would be the last time they’d say goodnight. Ji Qingyi didn’t want to meet the other’s gaze, so she kept her eyes fixed on the hem of Wen Yuchuan’s clothes. Tomorrow, she would demand answers. If the other refused to explain, then she’d have no right to bother her anymore.