Incurable Chapter 12 Part 2

Chapter 12 (2/2)

Mu Wan’s brows lifted.

She looked up at him.

His expression had not changed. He simply took the bottle from her hand, rinsed it clean, and walked out of the kitten room.

Now that she had permission for another hour, Mu Wan did not stay in the kitten room the whole time.

She waited there a while. Ertong had curled up and fallen asleep in the bed. At last, she stood and left the room as well.

The lights in the living room were off.

Only the lamp on the low table was on.

Soft light spilled out from beneath the shade, cutting a small circle of brightness open in the dark.

Within that circle of light, Liu Qianxiu sat cross-legged at the low table, a book near one hand, reading with his whole mind stilled.

His face had always seemed almost colorless, but not because its shape lacked depth. On the contrary: in the lamplight, shadow divided his face into one bright half and one dark, and the lines from brow bone to bridge of the nose carved his features into something deep, sharp, and striking.

And yet his bearing remained quiet.

No matter how sharp his features were, they all submitted to that clear-water calm of his, becoming serene and remote.

Mu Wan’s heart, which had only just slowed, began racing again.

She stood there in silence, simply watching him.

When he turned a page and happened to look up, he saw her.

Caught, Mu Wan parted her lips slightly and pointed toward the kitten room.

“Ertong fell asleep.”

She was a little bored.

Liu Qianxiu’s posture did not change.

“Would you like to read?” he asked.

“All right.”

Mu Wan slipped off her shoes, walked over barefoot, and sat down cross-legged beside him.

The low table was not especially small. It was more than enough for Liu Qianxiu alone, and even with Mu Wan added, it did not feel too crowded. Once she sat down, she looked at the book in his hands.

The layout was vertical, the paper yellowed with age.

“What are you reading?” she asked, stretching her neck slightly to peer forward, lashes lowering as she tried to see.

Liu Qianxiu handed the book over.

When Mu Wan touched it, her fingertip sliding over the page, she felt something she could not quite name.

It felt like an old text.

Only after taking it did she fully register what that meant.

There were a few things in Liu Qianxiu’s living room, but all of them carried an old, quiet air. They did not look like modern imitations made to resemble antiques.

They looked real.

The low table before them, for example, seemed at first glance almost plain. But up close, it held finely carved patterns and carried a faint sandalwood scent, like a piece of old furniture that had already lived many years.

And the mural set into the load-bearing wall of the living room did not look as if it had simply been painted there later. It looked more like something cut from elsewhere and embedded into the wall.

Lin Wei had studied art, and through prolonged exposure, Mu Wan had absorbed enough to recognize that the mural’s style was deeply classical.

The whole thing carried a beauty that had been refined inward over time.

Seated among these old things, Liu Qianxiu looked like a figure from a painting of immortals—elegant, sacred, impossibly far away.

Mu Wan looked at him and, little by little, drifted away in thought.

The book he had handed her remained unopened in her hands.

After a while, Liu Qianxiu lifted his eyes to her, meeting the gaze she had fixed on him. This time Mu Wan did not look away. Their eyes met, and she smiled openly.

Glancing once at the Tao Te Ching in her hands, Liu Qianxiu asked, “Why aren’t you reading?”

Mu Wan had only looked at it once.

Classical Chinese.

Traditional characters.

Dense, obscure, almost unreadable.

She did not even recognize all the words.

So she gave up, honestly.

“I can’t understand it.”

Liu Qianxiu lowered his eyes again and turned a page in his own book. Through the thin yellow paper, his fingers looked almost translucent. His tone stayed calm.

“And you can understand me?”

He had caught her.

Mu Wan was not embarrassed.

She shook her head.

“No. I can’t understand you either.”

It was the truth.

Liu Qianxiu seemed like a doctor, like a Taoist, and somehow like neither of those things at all. He was like some great hidden figure living quietly in the world. The more she learned, the more unfathomable he became.

And yet he was not deceptive with anyone.

He was like a pool so clear you could see the stones at the bottom, and still have no idea how deep the water truly ran.

Not knowing the depth yet did not matter.

She could measure it slowly.

Thinking that, Mu Wan added, “But you’re better-looking than the book.”

Liu Qianxiu lifted his eyes.

Mu Wan was smiling.

Then his gaze returned to the page. Whatever line he had just been reading had already slipped away.

Seeing him continue, Mu Wan grew restless again. The paper in her hands rustled softly. She set one arm against the low table and rested her head on it, turning her face to look at him sideways.

“Liu Qianxiu.”

In the quiet, spacious living room, her voice sounded soft and sweet enough to taste.

Without lifting his head, Liu Qianxiu answered with one low, unhurried sound.

“Mm.”

The sound of his voice echoed in her ear.

Mu Wan raised her head slightly and, looking at the line of his profile, asked, “You like living alone, don’t you?”

Under the lamp, the two of them occupied opposite corners of the low table.

He sat upright and still.

She curved against the edge of it like something languid and boneless.

“Why would you ask that?”

Mu Wan thought for a moment.

“Because you’ve always been alone.”

Liu Qianxiu’s throat moved once. His gaze remained on the page before him, and his tone stayed mild, even.

“Now, in this moment, there are two people.”

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