Chapter 61: Nothing wrong with liking.

The nearby harbor remained quiet and composed, standing firm against the crashing waves. The lighthouse illuminated the turbulent sea, while the moonlight gently bathed Moon Island in a dreamy glow, much like the presence of Luo Yue at this moment.

She knew what Qin Zhaoyi was about to say, so she preemptively cut her off and refused to leave Moon Island.

She said, “I can wait for you here.”

Just like the harbor in the distance, always quietly waiting for you.

Qin Zhaoyi lowered her gaze. “I really don’t like it here.”

There was always someone trying to take Luo Yue away from her.

“It’s fine,” Luo Yue said. “You can leave here occasionally.”

“And what about you?” Qin Zhaoyi asked.

Luo Yue pulled her into her arms.

For some reason, the conversation had suddenly taken a sad turn.

Luo Yue’s voice was deep and calm, yet filled with a gentle warmth like water. “I’ll wait for you to come back.”

Qin Zhaoyi: “…”

“If,” Qin Zhaoyi looked at her as if trying to peer into her soul, “I want you to leave with me?”

Luo Yue slowly shook her head and simply called her, “Sweetheart.”

No more words were needed. 

At this moment, silence spoke louder than words.

Luo Yue wasn’t going to leave.

They had asked and argued over this question many times.

Qin Zhaoyi still wasn’t ready to give up.

She thought there might be a small change in Luo Yue’s feelings by now.

But there wasn’t.

Luo Yue still insisted on staying as a keeper of Moon Island.

Qin Zhaoyi fell silent.

The sound of the waves swallowed their thoughts.

After a long while, Luo Yue said, “Let’s go see a movie this weekend.”

“What movie?” Qin Zhaoyi followed her lead. “Any good ones?”

“《The Day We Left》,” Luo Yue said.

Qin Zhaoyi: “…”

“It’s out already?” Qin Zhaoyi asked.

Luo Yue smiled and nodded. “Not even paying attention to your own child?”

Qin Zhaoyi was surprised. “What do you mean, my child?”

Luo Yue intertwined her fingers with Qin Zhaoyi’s, their hands wrapped tightly together.

“I heard this saying once—that all books are like an author’s children. So how could you, the mother, not pay any attention?” Luo Yue teased.

She wasn’t wrong.

*The Day We Left* was a book Qin Zhaoyi had written two years ago. It immediately topped the best-seller list upon release.

Despite being published near the end of the year, it surpassed others’ annual sales within just two months and had an excellent reputation.

It was also the only one of her works with a relatively successful romantic subplot, though it had a bittersweet, double-tragic ending.

Qin Zhaoyi hadn’t been keeping up with work recently, so she hadn’t realized the film adaptation was being released.

She checked her WeChat and found that many people had messaged her, including the director and PR team for 《The Day We Left*. The PR team, in particular, subtly reminded her to share the official promotional post.

Since her pen name was already exposed, Qin Zhaoyi logged into her main Weibo account and nonchalantly reposted the official movie account’s post, captioning it: “Heading to the cinema for a rewatch.”

Soon enough, her readers swarmed the comments.

【Rewatch? Does that mean you’re planning a new book?】

【I’m ready, but can I read a new book while watching the movie?】

【Ahhh! I’m really desperate for a good book! Please, please, can you start a new one? Don’t make me beg!】

Only a few people were helping promote 《The Day We Left》, while the majority were just begging for a new book.

As Qin Zhaoyi scrolled through the comments, her brow furrowed so tightly it could kill a fly.

Luo Yue glanced casually at her screen, smirking as she teased, “So, when do you plan to start your new book?”

Qin Zhaoyi: “…”

She logged out of the app and force-closed it, preparing once again to avoid the stressful flood of comments urging her to write.

But Luo Yue continued to watch her.

Qin Zhaoyi paused. “I don’t know.”

She still had no inspiration.

Since the beginning of her writing career, she’d never really experienced a creative drought.

That’s why, despite her young age, she already had so many notable works.

When inspiration struck, she could write nonstop—she’d once finished a book in just a week.

But now that she had suddenly stopped, she wasn’t used to it.

There was a discomfort in not writing, a sense of anxiety, yet the more anxious she felt, the harder it became to write.

So, she forced herself not to think about it.

“Alright,” Luo Yue didn’t push her further, instead suggesting, “Let’s talk after we see the movie.”

Qin Zhaoyi asked her, “Do you like this book?”

Luo Yue didn’t lie, “I like *Stay* better.”

That was one of Xixi Li’s earlier works.

Qin Zhaoyi always felt a strange sense of embarrassment when talking about her own books, so she tried to steer the conversation in another direction. Especially since she was still thinking about the gossip she heard earlier. “You had a childhood engagement with Cheng Shijing?”

“Yes,” Luo Yue didn’t hide it. After all, Moon Island was so small that even if she didn’t tell Qin Zhaoyi now, she could easily find out by asking someone tomorrow.

It was old news—just some trivial, long-forgotten matter.

Yet people kept bringing it up.

Perhaps it was because Luo Yue and Cheng Shijing were destined for something special. When they got into the top middle and high schools, when they were admitted to Jia University, when they returned from Jiayi, and again when they both decided to stay on Moon Island—every time, these stories resurfaced.

Luo Yue was tired of hearing them.

“My mom and Auntie Yang were best friends back then,” Luo Yue explained, in case Qin Zhaoyi didn’t know. “Auntie Yang is Shijing’s mother.”

“Oh,” Qin Zhaoyi was puzzled. “So just because they were close, they arranged a childhood engagement? Did they never think that you might not like men?”

“That came later,” Luo Yue chuckled. “When they made the arrangement, I couldn’t even talk. Who would care if I liked men or women?”

Qin Zhaoyi: “…”

There was no way to argue with that.

But—

“It’s still not okay,” Qin Zhaoyi muttered, “I don’t like it.”

“So I refused,” Luo Yue said. “I’m not getting married.”

Qin Zhaoyi frowned. “Not even to me?”

Luo Yue paused. “Us?”

When she asked this, there was a hint of hesitation, thinking Qin Zhaoyi might be joking.

“What else?” Qin Zhaoyi looked at her. “Haven’t you thought about marrying me?”

Luo Yue: “…”

She really hadn’t.

Call it pessimism or irresponsibility, but she had never thought about marriage.

“Same-sex marriage laws in the country are a distant dream,” Luo Yue said quietly, her voice lowered in the surrounding stillness.

Qin Zhaoyi nodded, “Then we can go abroad.”

“We can go abroad and get married by providing proof of assets,” Qin Zhaoyi said. “I qualify.”

“But why do we need a marriage certificate?” Luo Yue asked.

Qin Zhaoyi froze, suddenly feeling confused.

“If we’ve already chosen a path different from societal norms, why go back to follow those norms?” Luo Yue’s voice was gentle, but she posed the sharpest question. “Following your logic, should we also have children? A boy or a girl? Or maybe we should make sure it’s a boy to carry on the family name?”

Qin Zhaoyi: “…”

“I don’t have any remarkable genes,” Qin Zhaoyi pressed her lips together. “What’s so important that it needs to be passed down?”

Luo Yue shrugged. “Then you…”

She didn’t finish, but her tone was obvious.

It seemed to say: *That’s what you were implying.*

Qin Zhaoyi shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. Wanting to go abroad to get married isn’t for the reason you’re saying.”

Luo Yue: “Hmm?”

“I let you sidetrack me,” Qin Zhaoyi said. “You’re just using sophistry.”

“I was just following your logic,” Luo Yue said. “Maybe, deep down, you still long for a traditional life.”

Qin Zhaoyi: “… Don’t speculate about me like that.”

Luo Yue remained silent.

After a long pause, Qin Zhaoyi spoke, “We can talk about whether or not to have kids later. Technology is advanced enough now, and we can decide either way. People’s thoughts change over time. But as for the marriage certificate—I need it.”

Qin Zhaoyi finally figured it out—she had just been led into a mental trap by Luo Yue.

“I want a marriage certificate to show everyone that what we have is reasonable, justified, and legal,” Qin Zhaoyi said. “It’s not like what they think, that not liking men makes you some sort of freak. Who said people have to be attracted to the opposite sex? That rule is what’s truly twisted.”

Luo Yue was slightly stunned before she responded, “But liking the opposite sex is human nature.”

It’s even an instinct in the animal kingdom.

“No,” Qin Zhaoyi shook her head. “In the animal kingdom, everything is about survival and reproduction. But according to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, modern humans prioritize psychological needs.”

“And so?” Luo Yue raised an eyebrow.

Qin Zhaoyi said calmly, “So my psychological need right now is *you*.”

Humans constantly evolve, and so does society.

“I hope that one day,” Qin Zhaoyi said, “you can stand in front of everyone on Moon Island and openly say that the person you love is me.”

Her expression was so serious when she said this that Luo Yue didn’t even dare to mock her for being dramatic.

For a moment, Luo Yue even imagined a beautiful future—walking hand-in-hand with her across Moon Island, proudly introducing her to friends and family: *This is my wife.*

“The sign that society has abandoned the older generation isn’t just technology,” Qin Zhaoyi added, “It’s also their beliefs.”

“But the most prominent characteristic of Chinese people is that if enough people believe something, it must be right,” Qin Zhaoyi shook her head slowly. “I want to show them that there’s nothing wrong with liking someone.”

No matter who that person is.

Qin Zhaoyi’s words stirred something in Luo Yue.

So it wasn’t surprising that some people saw the two of them sitting closely together on the rocks late at night, engrossed in conversation, creating a beautifully picturesque scene from a distance.

After finishing their debate, Qin Zhaoyi and Luo Yue walked home.

The moonlight poured over the small path like water, and the sea breeze gently caressed them.

By the time they reached home and Qin Zhaoyi was taking a shower, she realized that Luo Yue had merely been a listener the entire time.

She hadn’t agreed to anything.

Neither to marriage nor to getting a marriage certificate.

What a rascal.

Qin Zhaoyi couldn’t even finish her shower properly—she hastily wiped the soap from her hands, grabbed her phone, and sent Luo Yue a message: 【Rogue!】

Luo Yue:【 ?】

Qin Zhaoyi: 【A famous person once said that dating without the intention of marriage is just fooling around.】

Luo Yue:【 …】

Qin Zhaoyi: 【Just wait. I’ll come over as soon as I’m done showering.】

Two minutes later, Luo Yue replied: 【Babe, make sure you clean yourself properly.】

Qin Zhaoyi:【 …】

By the time she finished her shower, it was nearly midnight, and the streets were empty.

Zhong Ling had just finished playing a couple of rounds of her game and, feeling hungry, was about to head downstairs to cook some late-night snacks.

To her surprise, she saw Qin Zhaoyi dressed in pajamas, wrapped in a gray bathrobe, walking quietly toward the door.

It was obvious where she was headed—next door.

Zhong Ling coughed to catch her attention.

Qin Zhaoyi glanced at her sideways, “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

Zhong Ling grinned, “Yi-jie, shouldn’t I be asking you that? Why aren’t you asleep yet, sneaking over to someone’s house at this hour… Tsk tsk tsk.”

Qin Zhaoyi: “?”

“You won’t get anything but nonsense from a dog’s mouth,” Qin Zhaoyi refused to acknowledge that Zhong Ling was right, and after mocking her, she added, “I’m going over to discuss an academic issue.”

“What?” Zhong Ling asked.

Qin Zhaoyi hesitated, not expecting her to press for details. So she quickly made something up. “The evolutionary process of human civilization.”

Zhong Ling: “…”

“You might as well discuss the various forms of human nighttime activities,” Zhong Ling said with a devilish smile. “Then I could help you out.”

Qin Zhaoyi was irritated, “Help out with what? What does this have to do with you?”

“I could buy you something to spice up your nighttime romance,” Zhong Ling waved her phone. “I can place an order tonight.”

“What?” Qin Zhaoyi frowned. “Not those ridiculous lingerie sets again, right?”

Last time, that had ruined her reputation.

She was firmly against those things ever making their way to Moon Island.

“No, no, no.” Zhong Ling shook her head. “That’s just child’s play.”

“This time, I’ll get you the advanced version.” As Zhong Ling spoke, she walked up to Qin Zhaoyi and pushed her out. “Alright, I guarantee you’ll be even more limping than the last few days.”

Qin Zhaoyi: “…”

Qin Zhaoyi’s ears turned red as she stubbornly struggled. “You’re the one who’s limping!”

That was just her not being steady!

Zhong Ling completely ignored her and ran to the kitchen to cook instant noodles.

Meanwhile, Qin Zhaoyi arrived at Luo Yue’s doorstep and saw the big yellow dog still peacefully asleep in its bed. After staring at it for a few seconds, she easily entered the house.

Luo Yue had just finished blow-drying her hair, her silky, waist-length locks tied back simply with a hairband. She wasn’t wearing any makeup; her skin was fair with a rosy hue, reminiscent of a freshly ripened peach that made one want to reach out and pick it.

“What are you looking at?” Luo Yue glanced at her casually, then turned around and headed back to her room.

Qin Zhaoyi followed closely behind without hiding anything. “Looking at you.”

She closed the door behind her.

The spacious view outside quickly turned narrow, and the room’s temperature suddenly rose.

Luo Yue sat at her vanity, applying a layer of moisturizer followed by a thin layer of cream.

After tidying up, she turned around to find Qin Zhaoyi sprawled lazily on the bed, her gaze still fixed on Luo Yue.

Especially on the tattoo on her shoulder.

Luo Yue instinctively covered it with her hand but soon realized that her spaghetti strap nightgown didn’t hide much. She took a very thin shawl from the closet instead.

The silk shawl was something she bought during a school trip to Dunhuang. Its bright colors subtly revealed the tattoo beneath.

“What do you want to talk about?” Luo Yue asked, a few meters away, her expression still gentle, like an ancient tree standing tall for a millennium, weathered yet reassuring, especially with her amber-colored eyes illuminated by the dim light.

Her nightgown was a light orange, almost cream-colored; the pale hues should have contrasted with the shawl’s colors, yet they perfectly blended when she draped it over herself.

For a moment, Qin Zhaoyi felt a bit dazed.

It wasn’t until Luo Yue cleared her throat softly that Qin Zhaoyi snapped back to reality, realizing she was tugging at a corner of the bed sheet, already stretching it out of shape.

Qin Zhaoyi: “…”

“Go ahead, speak,” Luo Yue said, propping her chin on one hand, her elbow resting on the back of the chair, looking lazy and casual. “You didn’t come just to stare at me, did you?”

After speaking so seriously on the phone, she was now silent.

Having her recent embarrassment pointed out made Qin Zhaoyi’s cheeks flush pink.

Like the evening’s fiery clouds.

So vibrant and beautiful.

When she finally spoke in her cool, clear voice, Luo Yue could barely suppress a swallow.

Yet she still pretended to be calm.

She said, “You’re my girlfriend; can’t I just stare at you?”

The last note of her sentence wavered, clearly lacking confidence.

Luo Yue stared straight at her, and just as Qin Zhaoyi was about to concede, Luo Yue lazily smiled. “Sure.”

She stood up and pulled the curtains closed, leaving only a narrow gap.

On the lunar calendar’s first day, the moon looked like a small boat, gliding across the vast sky, resembling the boats on Moon Island drifting with the sea.

The crescent moon aligned perfectly with Qin Zhaoyi’s line of sight, resting above Luo Yue’s head.

Luo Yue chuckled softly. “Then tonight, you can watch me all night.”

“Don’t do anything.” 

Just as she was about to turn and leave, Qin Zhaoyi’s mind flickered, “Wait a minute.” 

“Hmm?” Luo Yue looked puzzled but didn’t move again. 

Qin Zhaoyi hurriedly took out her phone and opened the camera. 

The Apple camera usually made people look lifeless, but when it came to Luo Yue, even the rear camera appeared soft. 

Especially the crescent moon above her head, shining through the clean glass window into the room, like a celestial being descending to earth. 

Qin Zhaoyi snapped several pictures and then reviewed them. 

She didn’t like taking selfies and wasn’t particularly fond of photography. 

Her phone was new, just replaced after coming to Moon Island, and her photo album was almost empty. 

There were only a few pictures of the rising and setting tides, along with some sunrises and sunsets. 

Nature has so many beautiful sceneries, but often, only the fleeting moments trigger deeper thoughts. 

Even the imagery in ancient poetry often focuses more on falling blossoms, the moon, and the setting sun. 

It seems that people can only fully sense life during moments of pain, which inspires creativity. 

Luo Yue didn’t care whether the pictures looked good; she had already posed several times for Qin Zhaoyi. 

She had little confidence in Qin Zhaoyi’s photography skills. 

It was clear she rarely used a camera. 

“Looks good.” After a few seconds of looking at her phone, Qin Zhaoyi said these two words. 

Luo Yue asked, “I’m right here, and you’re telling your phone it looks good?” 

“I meant the moon on the phone looks good,” Qin Zhaoyi said, turning the phone around. 

On the screen was a close-up of the crescent moon. 

Luo Yue: “……” 

Alright then. 

It wasn’t that she looked good. 

Luo Yue walked closer, gradually closing the distance, and tilted her chin up: “Princess Qin, are you messing with me?” 

Qin Zhaoyi gazed at her, tilting her head back, and blinked at her. Her clear, cool voice sounded sweet, as if dipped in honey, “How did you know?” 

“I’m not foolish.” Luo Yue scoffed lightly. 

Qin Zhaoyi still held her phone, casually swiping the screen, which had now displayed Luo Yue. 

Luo Yue, in her nightgown, had a gentle smile in her eyes, her stance relaxed, her gaze lazy and affectionate. 

Her face looked as if crafted by a divine creator, flawless from every angle. 

Even without makeup, she could perfectly counteract the harsh lighting of the Apple rear camera. 

Just a casual shot, but it had the feel of a red carpet goddess. 

Qin Zhaoyi said, “I said, the moon looks good.” 

Luo Yue’s hand on her chin loosened slightly but then turned into a pinch as she leaned closer to her ear and whispered, “Which moon looks good^[1]Yue liang – moon. Also Luo Yue’s nickname?” 

“The one in front of me.” Qin Zhaoyi closed her phone, tilting her neck back even further, her body sitting up a little more, bringing her closer to Luo Yue. 

At such a close distance, she could hear Luo Yue’s softened breathing. 

With each breath, her heartbeat grew stronger. 

Thump, thump— 

It quickened, and for a moment, Qin Zhaoyi was confused, unable to tell whose heartbeat it was. 

“Moon.” Qin Zhaoyi called out to her, her tone gentle, “No matter how beautiful the moon in the sky is, it’s not my girlfriend.” 

“Hmm?” Luo Yue’s voice was laced with curiosity but sounded more like encouragement, prompting her to continue. 

Qin Zhaoyi lowered her voice, creating a more ambiguous atmosphere: “Only the moon right in front of me is mine.” 

Luo Yue’s fingertips traced her cheek. 

Qin Zhaoyi continued, “It belongs to me alone.” 

Luo Yue paused for a few seconds, then chuckled lightly, “Baby, are you so possessive?” 

Qin Zhaoyi lowered her gaze. “Yes.” 

“In the future…” Suddenly, Qin Zhaoyi’s lips landed gently on the tattoo on Luo Yue’s shoulder, kissing it softly.

Luo Yue’s body resisted for a moment. 

It had been a long time since anyone had touched her wound. 

Once upon a time, there was no wound there. 

Later, she replaced the wound with a tattoo and became very averse to others touching it. 

But now, she heard Qin Zhaoyi softly ask, “Only I can kiss you and hold you.” 

Qin Zhaoyi then asked, “Are you scared?” 

Luo Yue only asked her, “Are you still angry?” 

“Childhood engagement?” 

“Hmm.” 

“A little,” Qin Zhaoyi replied. “I don’t know if it’s anger or helplessness.” 

That feeling of helplessness, as if the whole world was against her. 

Clearly, the person who loved Luo Yue the most was her. 

Luo Yue loved her too. 

“Then should I comfort you?” Luo Yue’s throat felt a bit tight. 

“How do you comfort?” Qin Zhaoyi asked. 

As soon as she finished speaking, Luo Yue sealed her lips. 

In the heat of the moment, Qin Zhaoyi reached for the tattoo on her shoulder and whispered, “Sister, why did you get a tattoo?” 

Luo Yue didn’t answer. 

What responded to her was the moonlight that spilled into the room. 

Gentle and lingering, it was enchanting and intimate. 

The next day, when Qin Zhaoyi woke up, there was a cup of warm water and a tube of ointment on the bedside table. 

She didn’t feel like using them and only realized her throat was hoarse when she was about to send a voice message to Zhong Ling. 

A bit ridiculous. 

Young people just don’t know how to control themselves. 

Even though Luo Yue let her sleep over at her house, Qin Zhaoyi still wanted to hug her like a koala bear while sleeping, but cuddling often led to her feeling a bit overwhelmed. 

One night, Zhong Ling left a large gift box in Qin Zhaoyi’s room. 

And she sensibly left the small red building without saying where she went. 

After Qin Zhaoyi opened the gift box, she found a complete collection of toys. 

Each toy came with an instruction manual placed aside. 

Qin Zhaoyi: …… 

What a good best friend she had. 

She even thoughtfully labeled which ones were suitable for beginners and which ones were exclusive to experienced users. 

She also wished them many wonderful nights together, even every night in revelry. 

But unfortunately, before she could put any of it into practice, Qin Zhaoyi got her period. 

She could only take the big box to Luo Yue’s house. 

This time her cramps weren’t as bad as before, but it was still uncomfortable for Qin Zhaoyi. 

Luo Yue made her ginger tea and handed it over. She frowned and took small sips but refused to drink more. 

Luo Yue asked if she wanted a heating pad, and Qin Zhaoyi lay there, looking up at her: “Come hug me.” 

Luo Yue went over and wrapped her arms around her, placing her hand on Qin Zhaoyi’s lower abdomen. 

Warmth spread continuously, and Qin Zhaoyi felt a bit more comfortable. 

Even in the middle of summer, she snuggled closer into Luo Yue’s embrace. 

They spent the entire night like that. The next morning, when Qin Zhaoyi woke up, the room was already empty. 

Frowning, she got out of bed, and saw Luo Yue busy in the kitchen. She went over and hugged her: “Sister, why didn’t you stay with me?” 

Her words had a hint of reproach, mixed with the weakness that came from having her period. 

“Making red sugar eggs.” Luo Yue showed her the pot: “I’m making breakfast for you.” 

Qin Zhaoyi: “?” 

What kind of dark cuisine was this? 

Noticing Qin Zhaoyi’s disdain, Luo Yue said, “When I got my first period, my mom made this for me. It’s a folk remedy, but it works.” 

Qin Zhaoyi didn’t dare to complain, so she took a bowl and waited obediently. 

After eating a bite, she looked up and asked, “Are the movie tickets we bought for today?” 

“Yes,” Luo Yue replied. “The show starts at ten in the morning. I plan for us to have lunch afterward, but… can you still go like this?” 

Qin Zhaoyi rubbed her belly: “I should be fine.” 

“No need to force yourself,” Luo Yue said. “If you can’t, we can wait until next week to watch.” 

Qin Zhaoyi quickly finished the soft-boiled egg, saying, “I’ll go check on the screenwriter’s level.” 

Luo Yue: “……” 

The two tidied up a bit and prepared to go out. 

Since they were afraid someone might see Qin Zhaoyi leaving Luo Yue’s house early in the morning, they agreed that Qin Zhaoyi would go first, followed by Luo Yue. 

So, Qin Zhaoyi stepped out first. 

Luo Yue was still in the house cleaning the dishes. Just as she placed them in the kitchen, she heard Qin Zhaoyi scream, followed by the national curse word: “Fuck!” 

Immediately after, there was a loud wail of a child. Luo Yue shook the water off her hands and quickly went outside to check. 

She saw a bundle on the ground, wrapped around a chubby little child, who was crying heartbreakingly. 

Qin Zhaoyi almost stepped on her as she stepped out the door, startled, but still remembered to ask, “Whose child is this?” 

Luo Yue immediately picked the child up and rocked them^[2]Don’t know the gender so I used them for now gently; the crying gradually ceased, but she looked just as confused. 

“Looks a bit like you,” Qin Zhaoyi said. 

Luo Yue: “……” 

“Could it be your dad had another one and sent it over for you to raise?” Qin Zhaoyi speculated. 

Luo Yue pressed her lips tightly together, suddenly becoming serious. 

Qin Zhaoyi didn’t dare to continue guessing and only looked around to see if there were any suspicious people. 

But there wasn’t even a passerby. 

“Are you going to raise them?” Qin Zhaoyi asked. 

Seeing the child was about to open their mouth and cry again, Luo Yue hurriedly shook them, her heart filled with a vague suspicion, but she didn’t say it. Instead, she carried the child back inside. “We’ll talk about it later.”