Chapter 12: Two Plates

Thursday night was slow.

They did not go anywhere.

Mengyao came home from the causeway at six with soil under her nails and a bag of pruned osmanthus twigs.

Anqi put the twigs in a jar on the nightstand, because the room smelled sweet with them.

They cooked noodles, ate on the floor among the manuscripts, and fed each other tomato slices in turn.

Mengyao said she had trimmed sixty-two trees and spoken to all of them.

Anqi said she had translated four pages and then forgotten what a verb was.

"What were you thinking about?" Mengyao asked.

"This."

"What's this?"

"You, with a noodle on your chin."

Mengyao wiped her chin, grinning.

Anqi leaned in, kissed the spot where the noodle had been, and stayed there, and Mengyao's laughter turned into a breath against her ear.

The bed wasn't far.

They took their time, stopping three times in the hall.

"Lie down," Mengyao said, when they reached it. "It's my turn."

"Your turn for what?"

"To take care of you."

She said it simply, with her cheeks pink and her round chin up.

Anqi lay back on the navy quilt.

Mengyao knelt over her and began to unbutton the cream blouse, one button at a time.

She did it exactly the way Anqi had done it for her, and kissed each new inch of skin as she uncovered it.

The hollow of the throat.

The tender line between the ribs.

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Moon Festival Cousin Switch from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.