Addicted

At sixteen, Ye Zhiqing felt the scent of midsummer for the first time in the depths of early winter. It came from Fu Hui, who was twenty-six: the faint fragrance of gardenias, and the cigarette between her lips, mixed with a hint of mint. Ye Zhiqing became addicted to chasing that scent.

She wanted to compare Fu Hui to a cigarette: once you tried it, you couldn't quit. But the passion Fu Hui gave her was not so fleeting. It was more like the searing mark of a brand. Was Fu Hui a glass of strong liquor, then? Addictive, enough to cloud your mind. But Fu Hui gave her more than daydreams and nights of sweet surrender. She also gave her waiting and clarity.

On the night twenty-year-old Ye Zhiqing resolutely left Fu Hui's city, she finally understood. Fu Hui was poison, but also salvation, and an abyss. Ye Zhiqing was only a lonely stone, picked up by Fu Hui, then cast far away.

At twenty-six, when a fan at her art exhibition asked why she had a gardenia tattoo on her shoulder, Ye Zhiqing finally accepted the truth: no matter how long she stayed away, she would never forget her. In the six years since she left, there had not been a single moment when she didn't miss her. Maybe she'd been addicted to Fu Hui from the very first time she saw her.

At thirty-six, Fu Hui watched the girl who had choked back tears time and again from within the crowd. She was the person Fu Hui thought about day and night, and a thorn in her heart. Hidden among the sea of people, Fu Hui gazed at her, and she gazed back.

Age gap warning!

1. Pure, innocent little bunny x aloof, beautiful