Sweet as Honey and Sugar - Chapter 16:
Light and shadow blurred together. Only a few meters away,
Lin Nai stood at the doorway, staring at her with a dark, unreadable expression.
For no reason at all, He Qingrou felt her throat tighten. Surprise,
a sudden weakness, and a strange unease rippled through her.
Lin Nai walked toward her, step by steady step. The bar was dim,
too dim to see her eyes clearly, yet Qingrou knew—she was angry.
Earlier that noon, after Lin Nai had come over, they had tangled together on the living room couch,
kissing until they were breathless. Lin Nai had asked again and again who the sender of the flowers
was. She’d cared, perhaps more than she’d admit. Now, seeing this scene
who knew what she was thinking.
The flickering lights stung Qingrou’s eyes. She blinked, opened her mouth slightly as if to speak,
just as a hand patted her shoulder. She turned instinctively.
What are you staring at so hard? Chi Jiayi plopped down beside her, easy and carefree.
The music was deafening; Qingrou barely caught the words but guessed well enough.
She shook her head, meaning it was nothing. When she turned back, Lin Nai was gone.
She grabbed a random glass of faint blue liquid and took a sip. The taste was bitter, acrid.
She frowned, forcing it down.
Chi Jiayi laughed outright and swapped it with her own glass of orange juice.
Feeling a little uncomfortable sitting so close to Wu Jin, Qingrou took the excuse of reaching for a
napkin across the table to subtly switch seats. Wu Jin, perceptive but unconcerned,
smiled and sipped her wine without a word.
The two of them weren’t talkative; only Jiayi kept chattering away.
Qingrou’s eyes wandered, and on her left, two booths down, she saw Lin Nai again.
Lin Nai was drinking with a few friends—strangers to Qingrou.
She must have felt Qingrou’s gaze, because she looked over,
first at Qingrou, then at Wu Jin beside her. Her fingers tightened around her glass,
lips pressed into a thin line, eyes shadowed with emotion.
Qingrou froze, hands wrapped around her orange juice, her heart trembling faintly.
After a moment, she mumbled something about needing the restroom.
But just as she passed the bar, a tall young man in a white shirt reached out to stop her,
smiling too easily. She tried to wave him off, but he persisted, leaning closer.
Come on, beautiful, just one drink.
Bars were like that—men and women, each with their own quiet intentions.
Qingrou’s mature air drew attention despite her cool expression.
I’m busy, she said, polite but firm.
The people nearby chuckled, watching. The man’s pride was bruised, rejected so neatly,
he blocked her path, not daring to touch her, only lifting an arm as if to stop her.
Qingrou pushed past him and walked straight on. Laughter rippled behind her.
Inside the restroom, she turned on the tap. Cold water ran over her palms, the chill creeping
upward until her thoughts cleared. The thundering music outside was muted here.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror—familiar, yet strange. Something in her eyes had changed, something buried deep
She touched the mirror; the woman inside did the same.
A sudden laugh escaped her. What was she doing, getting sentimental over nothing?
She rinsed her hands again, reached for a paper towel—but there was none.
The restroom was quiet, just her alone. She opened the first stall door, meaning to tear off some tissue.
But before she could step in, someone caught her by the waist.
The motion was swift; the door shut behind them with a click.
She almost screamed—but then caught the faint scent of perfume and stopped herself.
Her hand flew to the person’s arm.
What are you doing? she whispered, half-turning.
A hand covered her eyes. She was pressed firmly against the door.
Her heart stuttered. In the darkness behind her lids, all her other senses sharpened
Lin Nai’s breath came fast, warm against her lips, each exhale tracing heat into her skin until it spread through her whole body.
Qingrou tried to pull away, to move the hand from her eyes,
but Lin Nai caught her wrist, holding it down. Qingrou parted her lips to speak
but before she could, something brushed close.
Her lashes trembled against the warmth of Lin Nai’s palm.
Lin Nai released her hand, tilted her chin up, and kissed her—lightly, fleetingly,
like a dragonfly touching water. Then she stopped.
The soft, uncertain touch left Qingrou stunned. The door behind her was cool.
The body in front of her, hot. The contrast made her tremble. She wet her lips, about to speak.
You…
Her words collided with Lin Nai’s mouth. Suddenly the hand over her eyes fell away,
and the kiss deepened, hungry and urgent.
The burst of light from above felt almost blinding. Lin Nai’s kiss was fierce,
but her hands were gentle, holding her carefully. Qingrou’s thoughts battled inside her chest then
gave in. Her arms rose, wrapping around Lin Nai’s shoulders. She opened her mouth,
meeting that agile tongue with a nip, a soft bite of retaliation.
The moment shifted.
Lin Nai’s gaze darkened. Her hand slipped beneath Qingrou’s blouse.
Don’t… Qingrou caught her wrist.
Is she the one who sent the flowers? Lin Nai’s tone was deceptively calm as she easily pulled free.
Qingrou tilted her head back, voice breaking into a soft sound. I don’t even know her.
You don’t know her, yet you drink together? Lin Nai pressed closer.
She turned her face away. She’s Jiayi’s friend. It would’ve been rude to refuse.
Lin Nai said nothing for a while. Qingrou thought the anger had passed,
tried to push her away—only for Lin Nai to catch her again.
Qingrou gasped as a cool draft brushed her waist
Outside, Chi Jiayi checked her phone. It had been over ten minutes
She frowned, setting down her glass, telling Wu Jin she’d go check. Wu Jin nodded.
Jiayi had barely taken two steps when Qingrou appeared from the hallway.
What took you so long? she asked, a little worried.
Nothing, Qingrou said quickly, ducking her head. She didn’t want Jiayi to see her lips,
still flushed too red—but in the dim light, it hardly mattered.
It was only her own guilty conscience burning through her.
Jiayi shrugged and let it go.
Back at the booth, the same guy from before came over again, drink in hand, refusing to give up.
Jiayi sighed and leaned close to whisper something in his ear. His expression shifted,
awkward and embarrassed, and he quickly backed off.
What did you tell him? Qingrou asked, curious.
Jiayi grinned. I said you like women.
Qingrou froze. At that moment, Lin Nai walked past their table. Their eyes met just for an instant.
Jiayi didn’t notice, but Qingrou quickly looked away, heat rising in her cheeks.
She took a sip of orange juice to hide her face.
Around eleven, they left the bar.
As they stepped out, Lin Nai and her friends followed soon after.
Later, when Qingrou pulled the car around to pick Jiayi up,
Wu Jin was chatting with one of Lin Nai’s friends—they seemed to know each other well.
A sudden thought struck her. Did Lin Nai know Wu Jin too?
Scanning the crowd, she found Lin Nai again. Lin Nai had already noticed her,
speaking casually with her friends, eyes flicking toward Qingrou from the corner.
Their gazes met.
And in that fleeting moment, Qingrou remembered the heat of the restroom,
the weight of Lin Nai’s breath against her skin. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel without thinking.