Pillowside Passion - Chapter 27

27:

After speaking, Du Qingting couldn’t lift her head, torn between wanting to leave and feeling too embarrassed. She scratched her hair, glancing at the bald patch by the gate.

You Jin quickened her pace. “Let’s walk.”

Du Qingting, mortified, hurried to keep up.

Late August wasn’t so hot, the evening breeze slightly cool. They walked one behind the other, Du Qingting wanting to speak but unsure how to start, hands in her pockets, then out, fidgeting.

You Jin glanced back. “Scared?”

Du Qingting thought anyone in her shoes would be. Picturing herself fixing the lawn tomorrow, she felt like she was losing it.

“Is your mom home tomorrow?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Probably,” You Jin said.

Du Qingting pursed her lips.

You Jin asked, “What made you slip those photos?”

Du Qingting was too embarrassed to answer.

“I saw the writing on them,” You Jin said. “Real or fake?”

Du Qingting walked many steps, nearing her neighborhood, before admitting, “If they were fake, I wouldn’t have gone to your house to slip them in.”

“Good.”

“That’s enough.”

You Jin’s fingers gently brushed her hair, smoothing the messy strands slowly as the evening breeze blew. “I’ll try to help you out,” she said.

Du Qingting’s palms tingled, the heat subsiding.

They circled the neighborhood for laps, feet aching, before sitting on a bench. Du Qingting walked You Jin to her gate in silence, avoiding the ground, lifting her eyes to You Jin’s house. She scuffed her foot, then jumped, terrified of damaging their lawn again.

The house lights were still on.

You Jin chuckled softly. “Go home. My mom’s probably still up.”

“Okay.”

Watching her go inside, Du Qingting wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or tense. Goodnight kiss… no kiss today?

The You family’s gate closed, and Du Qingting sprinted home. Her mom was asleep, sparing her the confrontation. She rushed to shower again.

Undressing, Du Qingting’s fingers brushed her chest, sliding over where You Jin kissed. Her heart pounded. Better now? Hell, touching it made it worse.

Back home, You Jin found Liu Sumei in the living room sipping rose tea, a camel-colored shawl draped over her shoulders, expression sour, still stewing over past events.

You Jin changed into slippers at the door and said, “Tomorrow, let her fill the patch first. We’ll talk about the rest later.”

Liu Sumei scoffed, “Fill the patch? I’m teaching her a lesson, she’s too reckless.”

You Jin couldn’t say it was a misunderstanding. “I’ll talk to her properly.”

“Does she even listen to you?” Liu Sumei asked.

You Jin smiled. “She does. Haven’t you noticed?”

Liu Sumei huffed. “Go see what she’s done to our front yard. You’d think she’s a dog, hating me to the bone. Little Butterfly’s less wild than her.”

“Little Butterfly’s trained, so it behaves. She’s human, a bit wilder.”

Hearing its name, the Doberman trotted over with a small black ball in its mouth. You Jin patted its head. “Go cheer up the prettiest lady in our house.”

The Doberman carried the ball to Liu Sumei.

Liu Sumei shot her a look. “You know I don’t like Du Qingting much. Besides studying, she dared anything. Those friends she had, none of them amounted to anything.”

“I like her, and not everyone has to follow the rules or be a slave to work,” You Jin said. “Look at her without bias, you’ll see she’s not that bad.” She stood, brushing dog hair off her hands.

Liu Sumei wanted to retort—I don’t see what’s so great about her—but recalled Du Qingting’s fervent confessions, calling her daughter a radiant gem, and those photos slipped through the door.

The Doberman waited for Liu Sumei to play, but she didn’t move. It returned to You Jin, who tossed the ball upward. The Doberman bolted upstairs, You Jin following.

That Doberman was the one Du Qingting had gifted.

Du Qingting lay on her bed, a wreck, unable to face the night. Her phone pinged. She glanced at it, set it down, then shot up.

You Jin: [Talked to my mom. Tomorrow, fix the lawn first, then we’ll have a proper talk.]

Du Qingting’s stress halved. If fixing the lawn came before discussing photos or marriage, she’d rather not live. She flopped back, feeling life’s pressure ease, a flicker of hope for the future.

One awkward step at a time was better than a constant cringe.

She typed: [Thanks.]

You Jin: [That’s it for thanks?]

Du Qingting wondered if she should send a voiced kiss.

You Jin’s next message: [Don’t forget what you promised today.]

Come early tomorrow and fix the lawn.

[Okay.]

You Jin: [Sleep early. Dream of me.]

Du Qingting: I wouldn’t dare.

She set an alarm and closed her eyes. After squatting at their house so long, she knew the You family’s routine. Between 4 and 5 a.m., it was quiet. After 5, their maid started preparing food, sometimes heading to the morning market with Du Qingting’s maid.

She set the alarm for 3:30 a.m., woke, and dug up a patch of grass from her yard. Before the You family stirred, she rushed over to fill their bald spot.

She patted it down firmly, glanced up at You Jin’s room—second floor, rightmost, facing her house, lights off. Hearing a dog bark, she bolted.

Back home, heart racing, she worried about her mom finding out about her public embarrassment. She dug another patch on her way back to fill her own yard’s hole, sneaked into her room, and felt she’d salvaged some dignity. Her hand grazed her chest, rubbing lightly. So tense, maybe a kiss would’ve helped.

What was she thinking? She yanked the blanket over her face, dozing fitfully until her mom woke her at 7 a.m. Her dad was returning today, and her mom had been directing the household to clean since yesterday.

The area downstairs was dusty. Du Qingting stood on the balcony, a morning breeze carrying a faint floral scent.

Checking her phone, she saw the weather forecast and thought, Finally done. I can lie low, keep a less awkward distance from You Jin for now.

“Light rain tomorrow and the next day?” She frowned.

Rain, would it wash away the lawn? Would she have to fix it daily?

She checked WeChat.

Ten minutes ago, You Jin sent a message and a photo.

You Jin: [You filled it last night?]

Photo: Their lawn.

At 4 a.m., it was dim, and she hadn’t seen clearly. Now, the patch was uneven, grass heights mismatched, slightly out of place.

Du Qingting: [Yeah.]

You Jin sent another photo: [Little Butterfly dug it up.]

Damn.

That dog was unreal.

Xiao Qingting fills, Little Butterfly digs.

Both dogs, why make it hard for each other?

Du Qingting typed quickly: [Did your mom notice?]

You Jin: [Not yet. I stepped it back down.]

Reading this, Du Qingting’s lips twitched, almost smiling. Why was You Jin a little cute? Must be honeymoon aftereffects.

You Jin: [Figure out how to fix it again. My mom won’t check herself, she’ll have Little Butterfly monitor it.]

Du Qingting: [Why?]

You Jin: [She thinks a dug-up yard is embarrassing and won’t look on purpose.]

Du Qingting wanted to laugh but stopped, realizing she was the joke. That damn dog—cost her 4,000 yuan back then, didn’t it?

She vaguely recalled Dobermans being trendy in high school, pricey because people thought they were cool. Tight on cash, she’d saved for months.

So ungrateful.

She asked You Jin for a photo to see the damage and how big the hole was, planning to sneak over when no one was home.

You Jin: [Should I dig it up to snap a pic?]

No need for that.

Du Qingting scratched her head, searching online for tips. Guides said grass roots must stay intact, or they’d yellow and die in days. Fixing a lawn was a science, especially at the entrance, tied to feng shui and prosperity.

No wonder Liu Sumei was mad, Du Qingting not only slipped photos of her daughter but ruined their feng shui.

Maybe from all the toe-curling or recent drama, her toes felt numb.

Ridiculous.

Too ridiculous.

Du Qingting: [What type of grass is your lawn?]

You Jin: [No idea.]

[When are you coming over?]

Du Qingting: [When your mom’s not home, I’ll come.]

At 8 a.m., Du Wenbo arrived. Stepping out of the car, he spotted someone squatting in the yard, digging.

Frowning, puzzled, he asked, “What’s Qingting doing?”

Chen Huiru, arm linked with his, said without thinking, “Burying love.”

“What?” Du Wenbo didn’t get it.

Chen Huiru was confused too. Too much love, buried multiple times. She dug at 4 a.m., and now again, practically balding the yard, yet her love wasn’t done.

Not only that, she kept pocketing grass patches.

Keep digging, and the yard’s feng shui would be ruined. Chen Huiru ushered her husband inside, quietly approaching. “Baby, stop digging. Any more, and people will say our yard’s a pit. Your dad’s back, go say hi.”

Du Qingting, deep in her task, jumped at her mom’s voice, nearly falling. She took a deep breath. “Okay, soon. I’ll go in a bit.”

“You were only back a day last time. It’s been ages since you saw your dad,” Chen Huiru said, watching her dig, careful not to break the roots, feeling a pang of sympathy. “…If it’s too much, baby, just put up a gravestone.”

A gravestone? Du Qingting’s hand shook, snapping a root.

“For your dead love.”

“Who said that?” It was too apt, making her lose face. She slapped her hands clean. “Leave me alone. I’ll go in soon.”

Her dad came out, grabbed the shovel, and dug deep in one go. “Good enough?”

Du Qingting checked the soil. “Good. A bit deeper.”

She planned to plant the grass to thwart the dog.

Her dad, a burly, muscular guy, dug another chunk. Seeing her family help dig and fill, Du Qingting couldn’t take it, urging him inside.

At breakfast, her parents were all lovey-dovey, her dad serving her mom, her mom feeding the big guy. Du Nuanzhi, used to it, ate expressionlessly.

Du Qingting couldn’t stand it, too cringeworthy. Beyond that, it reminded her of herself and You Jin half a month ago.

Her dad said, “Of course I’ll finish what my wife feeds me.”

Past her: “Feed me more, girlfriend. I’ll stuff myself to death.”

Breakfast was agonizing. Her dad gave Chen Huiru a bag and necklace. She beamed, “Thank you, honey. Love you.”

Du Nuanzhi, sourly: “Didn’t you say to cut spending? Why buy Mom stuff?”

Du Wenbo: “I save by drinking less, socializing less. A bag lasts your mom years. Eating’s gone, drinking’s gone. She’s thriftier than me.”

Du Nuanzhi fell silent.

Solid logic.

Du Wenbo turned to Du Qingting.

She said, “Don’t look at me. I’m broke.”

He said, “Come, let’s talk.”

The word “talk” made her body tingle, giving her PTSD.

Though she’d been abroad for years, her parents often visited, keeping family ties strong with her mom’s sweetness.

In the study, Du Wenbo closed the door, sat on the sofa, and said, “Don’t take your mom’s words to heart. No rush with You Jin. Your sister said you and your girlfriend were sweet, like me and your mom. If you like her, bring her to meet us. Forget the You family. If it doesn’t work, we’ll sell some houses, go back to our hometown, live simply.”

Du Qingting was touched, but—

“Find a time to meet. If she really likes you, marry her.”

Du Qingting pursed her lips. “We’ll see. I’ve got something to do.”

“What?” Du Wenbo thought she doubted him. “Being with someone you love is sweet, I know. I married my beloved. Set a time, have dinner, meet her parents, propose. What’s her name?”

Du Qingting rubbed her face.

You Jin.

She turned to leave. What else could she do?

First, fill her honeymoon girlfriend’s lawn.

If she didn’t, the grass would dry out.

Back in her room, she texted You Jin: [Is your mom home?]

You Jin: [Hmm?]

Du Qingting wondered if that was rude.

[Is Auntie home?]

You Jin: [Hm?]

Du Qingting’s head hurt. With nothing settled, how could she call her “mom,” “mother-in-law,” or “mama”?

[Please.]

You Jin, holding her phone, lips curving slightly.

At a morning company meeting, she flipped her phone, tracing the couple’s photo on the case, her finger lingering on Du Qingting’s carefree, radiant smile.

Minutes later.

You Jin: [Think of a better way to say it.]

Du Qingting: [Calling her mother-in-law now is so wrong. Spare me, I’m dying of embarrassment.]

She really didn’t want to face Liu Sumei.

You Jin: [I meant to call me sister.]

Memories flooded back, and Du Qingting wanted to curse herself. She withdrew the message, fingers trembling. She recalled being coaxed into calling “You Jin,” torn between shame and regret, angry at You Jin but more at herself for falling for the thrill, thinking it was some wild kink.

Du Qingting, oh Du Qingting.

She never thought herself that lustful.

She pounded her pillow flat, feeling utterly shameless, wishing for some principles.

Today, Liu Sumei was out entertaining her dad’s friends, so You Jin covered for her at the company.

Du Qingting texted: [When’s your mom not home?]

Principles were less humiliating than facing Liu Sumei.

[Please, sister.]

You Jin: [Good girl.]

[I’ll let you know.]

Du Qingting: [Okay.]

[Tell me when your mom’s not home.]

You Jin didn’t reply.

Back then, thinking the You family was a trap, Du Qingting slipped photos with resentment. Their strict security meant the gate was locked when no one was home, so she’d pry at the gate, tug grass, dig a shallow hole, and stuff photos in.

If the girlfriend in those photos wasn’t You Jin, she’d have disgusted the You family—a clever move to fight weird with weird. Now, she was the weird one, drowning in her own awkwardness.

You Jin left work early, buckled her seatbelt, and texted: [I’m heading home to open the gate.]

Two minutes later.

Du Qingting: [At your gate.]

It was a seven-to-eight-minute walk between their houses.

You Jin’s lips curved, sending a voice message: “That fast?”

Du Qingting, rushing out while her mom was gone: [I ran.]

You Jin played car music, landing on “All the Good Guys Have to Die,” a slightly edgy title. She skipped to “Be Mine,” liking its possessive vibe and lyrics.

At dusk, the sun was setting. Du Qingting crouched under a tree, a shovel, hoe, and blue tool bag beside her.

You Jin parked, spotting her from afar. Driving slowly, Du Qingting stood and approached the car.

The gate opened, and You Jin drove in, angling the car to block the main house’s view. “I’ll check if my mom’s home,” she said.

Du Qingting couldn’t wait, darkness was coming. She dumped the tool bag, pulled candies and cookies from her pocket, and stuffed them into You Jin’s hands. You Jin, arms full, looked at her softly.

Du Qingting crouched, inspecting the dirt patch. The Doberman’s morning dig made it worse, with broken grass nearby.

She studied a tutorial again, raking the soil, trimming edges with the shovel, filling it with nutrient-rich dirt and grass, patting it firmly to prevent another bald spot.

Hurrying to avoid lingering, she worked fast. You Jin stood by, making a small sound.

Du Qingting brought a water bottle, pouring some to bind the soil. Planning to leave once done, she thought, Is this rude? Glancing at the house, she saw no one and relaxed—until she spotted two women in the gazebo.

Her mom and Liu Sumei were drinking tea. Chen Huiru, holding a blue-and-white teacup, looked shocked. Liu Sumei’s face was stern, both staring at her.

Clueless, Chen Huiru smiled. “Looks like these kids have a shot. Our Xiao Qingting stepped up. You don’t know—when I got with her dad, he was a rough guy, bad with words, but he’d fix my pipes every few days. Xiao Qingting’s like him—does more than she says, even fixing Xiao Jin’s lawn.” Whispering, “She dug all day at home, turns out it was for your lawn. So sweet.”

Liu Sumei sipped her tea, coolly saying, “She’s the one who ruined it.”

“What?”

Chen Huiru nearly choked, coughing, then froze, brows furrowing, voice off. “…Oh, really? Then…” She pondered, did Qingting dig it up for revenge and get caught?

So dumb. She looked at Du Qingting. “Qingting, why’d you mess up Jin’s lawn for no reason?”

Why, indeed.

Du Qingting wiped her face, dying of embarrassment.

She couldn’t explain, it was too humiliating.

Sweating, her heart sank. Head down, she kept filling, pressing the grass hard, desperate to run, terrified Liu Sumei would spill everything to her mom.

She glanced at You Jin, who met her eyes, barely hiding a smile, a dimple forming.

“I’m done,” Du Qingting said softly, then worried, “Will your dog dig it up again?”

You Jin said, “You filled it and tamped it down, right?”

Du Qingting, awkward, looked away, then back. “What if it goes wild?”

You Jin nodded seriously. “Possible.”

“Little Butterfly.”

You Jin clapped, and the Doberman darted from the living room. She crouched, rubbing its head, pointing to the patched lawn. “No digging there, okay? Be good, help cover for us, got it?”

The Doberman tilted its head solemnly.

You Jin pressed a finger to its mouth, whispering, “Shh.”

It nodded, barking, “Woof!”

“So smart, Little Butterfly’s the best,” she cooed, twirling her finger. The Doberman scampered off.

You Jin stood after crouching.

Her gentleness was unreal. Du Qingting vaguely recalled buying the dog, seeing photos at the pet store.

One showed an adult Doberman, sleek and fierce. The owner said, “This dog grows up handsome and tough.”

Du Qingting, unimpressed by its goofy puppy look, wondered how handsome it could be. The owner said, “Train it well—high IQ, strong action. It’s a lady-killer.”

Honest guy, no lies.

Du Qingting bit her lip. You Jin walked to the gazebo to chat with the two women. Du Qingting didn’t dare leave, grabbing nearby pruning shears, pretending to work.

You Jin, stifling a laugh, said, “Maybe she was bored, playing around.”

“Really?” Chen Huiru’s eyes lit up. If so, no embarrassment. “That makes sense.”

“Come upstairs,” You Jin said to Du Qingting.

Upstairs was her room… Du Qingting glanced at the gazebo. Both women watched her. Chen Huiru, hesitant but hopeful, winked frantically.

Du Qingting froze, reluctant to go to You Jin’s room.

You Jin said softly, “Don’t worry, my mom won’t say anything.”

“Why?” Du Qingting didn’t get it.

“Because she’s proud too,” You Jin said. “She wouldn’t tell your mom you slipped our intimate photos, right?”

Made sense.

“Coming?” You Jin’s eyes teased.

Du Qingting gritted her teeth and followed. You Jin opened the door. Du Qingting didn’t get a good look at the room but caught a familiar scent—not the sweet honeymoon kind, but one stirring old memories.

You Jin’s room was modern, cool-toned, but as she sat on the bed, legs crossed, it took on a sultry edge. She checked her phone. “Six o’clock. Close the door.”

Six p.m., officially night. Du Qingting shut the door.

“Not bad, you came early today.”

Du Qingting felt a twist in logic. Meeting once didn’t mean evenings—would she have to come every night? As she thought this—

You Jin, on the large double bed with gray sheets, asked, “Guess what I was thinking?”

“What?” Du Qingting frowned, dreading what other embarrassing thing she’d done.

She looked at You Jin, incredulous.

You Jin wore a shirt and a sexy hip-hugging skirt, low V-neck, loose collar showing a hint of white bra strap. Was it… that high school incident?

Her brain was fried.

“What is it? Give me a hint.”

“High school,” You Jin said.

“Damn, that was an accident! I didn’t take your bra to school to admire it. I hid it, then got rushed the next morning. While running at school, I noticed it stuck in my coat sleeve. I held my sleeve all day to hide it. No one saw! I never told anyone—how’d you know?” Her face burned, but You Jin looked surprised, barely holding back a laugh.

“You did that?” You Jin said.

Du Qingting’s face reddened. “That’s not it?”

“What do you think?” You Jin’s fingers curled, picturing it. “No wonder my bras kept disappearing. You took them to school.”

“I didn’t! I brought it back that night,” Du Qingting insisted.

“Oh…” You Jin laughed. “I meant mornings. I’d want to wear a favorite style, but it would vanish. I suspected something.”

“It was just that one time I messed up. Afterwards, I checked my clothes every morning.”

You Jin let out a soft “oh.”

Du Qingting, anxious, asked, “You believe me?”

“Did you look at it?” You Jin asked.

“What?” The memory was vivid. She’d hidden it blindly at first, but after a while, she’d peek, puzzled.

“You kept it in your sleeve?”

“Nowhere else to hide! Gu Rui and those bandits rummaged through my desk for snacks.” The bra’s weight was too much—she’d pinned her arm to the desk for a class, numbing it, terrified it’d show. She faked stomach pain for hours, later borrowing a hair tie from Jiang Mingyue to secure her sweater inside the coat. Thinking back, she was so vibrant then—anyone else would’ve died that high school season.

“Oh, so that’s where the hair tie came from,” You Jin said.

“Huh?” Du Qingting was lost. Did You Jin know or not? “What were you going to say?”

“You brought me snacks in high school, a lot,” You Jin said.

She recalled Du Qingting in kindergarten, mistaking her for someone else, sitting close, pulling chocolates and cookies from her bag.

“You’re so pretty, I only share with you. You’re so cute, so beautiful, You Jin. How do you write your name?”

The next day, too: “You Jin, why are you even prettier than yesterday? You smell nice today, what’s your makeup? Perfume? What face cream do you use? I’ll get my mom to buy it. Look, I wrote your name!”

You Jin: “I’m You Jin, not Wang Huo. Don’t scribble, okay?”

In high school, Du Qingting brought bags of stuff, dumping them on the bed. “For you.” Sometimes, test papers spilled out—You Jin saw she scored in the 80s, passing.

You Jin looked up. “Still pretty now?”

Du Qingting never thought she was ugly. Back then, she’d wonder how someone so stiffly dressed could be so stunning. It was unreal.

Now, she got it—this woman was born to hit her aesthetic, destined to dazzle her.
You Jin said, “Come here.”

Du Qingting, tense, approached.

“In high school, you wanted me to praise you, right?” You Jin asked.

Du Qingting wouldn’t admit it now, but deep down, after working hard for grades, who wouldn’t want praise? “Not that desperate.”

You Jin pointed to her lips. Du Qingting froze.

“Goodnight kiss,” You Jin said. “Missed it the past two days. Make up for it, kiss longer today.”

“No… I still…”

“Still uneasy, you have not adjusted yet?” You Jin glanced at her chest.

“No, my heart’s not that bad,” Du Qingting said quickly, panicking.

“So it’s healed?” You Jin asked.

“Almost… maybe,” Du Qingting mumbled.

“Oh,” You Jin nodded, seeming to understand, then eyed her lips. “So just your mouth’s still stubborn?”

“Huh?” Du Qingting was confused. Something felt off, topics circling back. She’d just filled one pit, only to fall into another.

You Jin said, “Your heart’s fine, but your mouth’s still tough… Let sister fix your mouth today.”

She looked up, pondering seriously, as if planning the “treatment.” Du Qingting wondered—wasn’t it just a kiss, like yesterday?

Soon, You Jin spoke. “Sorry, I was young, impulsive, always pushing you to score higher. I had a bad temper, was too strict, and didn’t consider what you wanted. Don’t be mad at me anymore.”

Du Qingting’s head snapped up, staring in disbelief.

You Jin was apologizing?

She didn’t seem to be teasing, her expression sincere, voice full of regret, as if truly remorseful. “I won’t do it again. I know I was wrong. Forgive me, okay?”

The feeling was indescribable—like the stern, rigid You Jin was saying sorry, or the sweet seven-day girlfriend asking her not to stay mad.
So strange, surreal.

More than that, the strict You Jin from her memories was apologizing. Du Qingting’s bones ached, a familiar constraint—but this time, it came from herself.

Was this treatment? Too effective.

You Jin unwrapped a Swiss candy Du Qingting gave her, licking it between her red lips, the sweet-tart taste melting.

She set it aside. “Come here. Kiss well today, and I will praise you.”

God, she desperately wanted praise from the once-harsh, clueless twenty-something You Jin who didn’t know how to coax.