Scarred Hearts — A Girls' Love Tale - Chapter 11

In the middle of the night, Yan Shuangfei was startled awake by a sudden chill. Although the heater was on in the room, the window hadn’t been fully shut to keep the air circulating, so it wasn’t very warm.

Still groggy, she glanced over and saw that Luo Qinghan had turned onto her side and taken most of the blanket with her.

Shuangfei chuckled helplessly and looked toward the IV bottle glowing with a cold, white light. The curtains were drawn, and there was no moonlight, so visibility should’ve been poor—but Yan Shuangfei had night vision, so that wasn’t a problem.

The IV fluid was nearly finished, but she didn’t feel like waiting for the night nurse to come and remove the needle. Ignoring the pull on her injuries, she reached over with her left hand to her right and yanked it out roughly.

She sucked in a sharp breath as pain shot through her.

Luo Qinghan seemed to sense something. She shifted with a little frown and curled up, one arm wrapping tightly around Yan Shuangfei’s waist. She murmured something unintelligible in her sleep.

Shuangfei couldn’t help but laugh. Who would’ve thought that this woman—cold, strict, and ruthless in the eyes of others—could be so cute?

Even she had rarely seen this side of Luo Qinghan. But the truth was, she was the only one who had ever seen it. This relaxed, affectionate state of vulnerability—this was hers alone.

And that, was enough.

Thanks to her body’s internal clock, Luo Qinghan woke up very early and right on time.

She couldn’t deny that she always slept better, more peacefully, when she was with Yan Shuangfei. Sometimes it made her, someone normally so punctual and efficient, not want to get out of bed.

“You’re awake?” Yan Shuangfei smiled calmly at her. She leaned back against the headboard, fingers lazily twirling strands of Luo Qinghan’s long, black hair.

She couldn’t get enough of it.

“Mm.” Luo Qinghan let out a soft nasal hum in response, then leaned her head against Shuangfei’s side, not moving at all.

Seeing how pitiful and cuddly she looked, Shuangfei softened. “If you’re still tired, you can go back to sleep,” she said gently.

Her voice—gentle all the way to the bones. Yan Shuangfei, who usually spoke directly and bluntly, had no sharp edges in front of Luo Qinghan. All that remained was genuine tenderness, as soft as flowing water.

“I’m okay,” Luo Qinghan mumbled, burying her face into Shuangfei’s side. Her warm breath filtered through the thin fabric, transferring real, tangible warmth to Shuangfei.

“I just want to lie here like this for a while.”

“Alright.”

Shuangfei reached out to pull the blanket over them. Luo Qinghan, sharp-eyed as ever, immediately noticed the purplish needle mark on Shuangfei’s right hand, where dried bl00d had crusted around the wound.

She grabbed her wrist without warning.

Shuangfei had just noticed it too, but her reaction time had always been slower than Luo Qinghan’s. By the time she tried to pull her hand back, it was too late—she was caught.

Meeting Luo Qinghan’s questioning gaze, Shuangfei flinched a little and looked away, staring up at the white ceiling.

Luo Qinghan didn’t need to ask. It was obvious this reckless girl had yanked the needle out herself, no finesse at all.

She gently blew on the wound, then, without saying anything more, laid Shuangfei’s hand back down, fixed her own hair, and carefully rested her head on Shuangfei’s right arm. One hand lay gently over Shuangfei’s chest as she murmured, “Christmas is coming soon.”

“I’ll spend it with you.”

When they were kids, Shuangfei always spent Christmas Eve and Christmas at the Luo family’s house. The Yan family was a traditional household and didn’t really celebrate Western holidays—only the Lunar New Year. But the Luo family was different. Luo Qinghan’s parents had lived in the West for years, so they celebrated Christmas like it was New Year’s.

Back then, the Yan and Luo families were close. Seeing how well the girls got along—and knowing how lonely Shuangfei was—Yan Huaiyuan often let her spend time at the Luo home. Besides Luo Qinghan, she had very few people she could truly call close.

“I want to visit my grandma,” Luo Qinghan said, her tone clearly asking for permission. “I haven’t seen her in a long time. Grandpa passed early, and she’s been living alone since. I want to spend some time with her—she used to spoil me.”

Shuangfei hesitated and stayed quiet for a while.

“It’s fine. She doesn’t know,” Luo Qinghan added softly. “She still nags me about how you never come see her anymore. I told her I’d bring you along this time.”

Her finger slowly traced circles on Shuangfei’s chest, pressing just slightly harder with each pass, her voice quiet.

“Alright, I’ll go with you,” Shuangfei finally relaxed and pulled her into an embrace, completely ignoring her own injuries. “But let me stop by the Yan house first. I’ll come find you after, okay?” Her tone was coaxing, oddly so—especially since she was younger than Luo Qinghan by a few years.

“That…” Luo Qinghan hesitated.

“Hm?”

“Your grandfather didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

“No. The Yan family has an heir now. Once Luo Xiao can handle things on his own, I’ll be free to retire and live off you, poor as I am.” Shuangfei grinned and gave Luo Qinghan’s cheek a playful pinch. It was so smooth—like summer silk.

“Stop it.” Luo Qinghan sat up. “I’ll go call the doctor to check on your wounds.”

“Not working today?”

“I took the day off.”

Shuangfei was stunned. This woman—so career-driven—had taken a day off for her little injury?

Granted, it really was a minor injury. Ever since the Yan and Luo families cut ties, Shuangfei had lived almost under house arrest until she passed the family trials, gained her grandfather’s approval, and officially took over as head of the household. Only then could they finally see each other again.

In those eleven years, she had suffered countless injuries—so many she’d long lost count.

Luo Qinghan really had become gentler and more considerate.

Shuangfei’s dumb grin stretched into a satisfied curve.

Even though she knew… When she heard Luo Qinghan subconsciously mutter numbers earlier, she immediately realized: anyone who could identify bullet calibers at a glance, determine the weapon type, and estimate the shooting range—couldn’t possibly be ordinary.

Even if she acted like a normal woman in front of her.

Shuangfei was grateful for their earlier conversation.

Thankfully… fortunately… just as well—

Luo Qinghan hadn’t mentioned that her grandmother had lost her son because of the Yan family.

And Shuangfei didn’t point it out either. Because in that moment, both of them were trying to forget the hatred and simply enjoy the rare peace in the eye of the storm.

A silent understanding.

“Any results from the interrogation?” Shuangfei asked, her bandaged left hand dangling, swaying slightly.

“He confessed,” Yan Shaoqiu replied with a grin as he leaned in. “It was Yan Qi who did it.”

Yan Qi? What would he gain from this? What good would killing Luo Qinghan do him?

“What should we do with him?”

“Try to assassinate me and you think I’d let that slide?” Shuangfei waved her hand, dismissing him.

Just like that, someone who didn’t even understand the situation was sentenced to death.

“Yan Shaoqiu, help me contact Yan Qi’s daughter.”

Shaoqiu jumped back in mock shock. “What do you want with that troublemaker she-devil?!”

“It’s important,” Shuangfei said, her expression suddenly turning sly. “She doesn’t get along with Yan Qi, right? The enemy of my enemy is my friend. And if she isn’t yet, I’ll make her his enemy. That way, she’ll become my friend.”

She said it with such righteous conviction, full of heartfelt sincerity.

Come on, Miss Yan, Handsome Yan, Student Yan—what kind of tongue twister is this?! Yan Shaoqiu wanted to cry, but still gritted his teeth and made the call.

Secretly hoping… it was late enough that the girl’s energy had already run out.