Please Marry Me (GL) - Chapter 1

The rain pattered incessantly, draping the city of Haizhu in a gray, misty veil.

Inside the police station, Jiang Yi took a cup of hot tea from a female officer and whispered her thanks. Half an hour ago, her bag had been snatched on the street. She had chased after the thief, twisting her ankle and ending up covered in mud. Her elbow was scraped, dotted with blood, but the pain had mostly faded by now.

Her damp, black hair had soaked through the back of her shirt. A kind officer provided a towel; after a quick dry, her hair regained its soft, natural luster.

After finishing her statement, the police told her to go home and wait for news. They asked if she needed to use their landline to call a friend to pick her up. Jiang Yi took a slow sip of tea, nodded, and walked to the phone. She instinctively began dialing the first few digits of a familiar number.

By the fifth digit, she froze. She suddenly remembered that the woman was currently abroad on business; there was no way she could return to Haizhu on such short notice.

The female officer came over to ask if she’d forgotten the number, offering her a ride home after her shift if needed. Jiang Yi shook her head shyly, declining the kind offer, and dialed a different number instead.

She called her best friend—Song Rao.

Upon hearing that Jiang Yi was at the police station, Song Rao didn’t hesitate and drove over immediately.

Windshield wipers swiped across the glass, clearing away the rhythmically falling rain to reveal the dark night ahead.

“What happened?” Song Rao was still wearing her white lab coat from the chemistry lab, a pair of silver-rimmed glasses perched on her high nose bridge. “How did you end up at the police station?”

Jiang Yi gave a brief account of the robbery. “It’s my fault for not being careful and not paying attention to the people around me.”

“Be more careful next time. Thank goodness it was just a bag snatching,” Song Rao said. A stray lock of hair brushed against her sharp jawline, her voice carrying a hint of patient concern. “Where is she?”

Jiang Yi stiffened. Even though she knew she couldn’t avoid the question, she instinctively tried to make an excuse for that person. “She’s on a business trip abroad. She won’t be back for a while.”

Song Rao knew all about her being that woman’s lover. Although Song Rao had initially wanted to shake her awake and scold her, she ultimately sighed and stayed by her side, respecting her choice.

She had left her with only one piece of advice: Not all love receives a response. If it doesn’t, get out as early as you can.

“Don’t worry about me. How about you? How have things been lately?” Jiang Yi changed the subject.

“I’m alright. My students are manageable, and the new project I took on last month finally has some progress.”

Jiang Yi smiled. “That sounds great. Want to grab dinner sometime soon?”

Just as Song Rao was about to answer, her phone rang. She paused the conversation to take the call via Bluetooth.

“…I understand. Mm, there’s no rush. I’m still young… Fine, I’ll meet them then.”

A few brief sentences—transitioning from stalling to eventual compromise.

Jiang Yi knew Song Rao was being heavily pressured by her family to get married, especially by her mother. Mrs. Song believed that if Song Rao started a new research project, she’d be buried in it for years. So, starting last month, Mrs. Song became restless and insisted she settle her “life’s major affairs” first. In her mother’s words, age 27 was a watershed for women—the limit of what she could accept. If she didn’t marry now, no one would want her later.

Three months ago, the country promulgated the new Marriage Code, allowing same-sex marriage. Song Rao’s parents were intellectuals who always supported national policy. Their first thought upon hearing the news was that their daughter’s options had just doubled.

Previously, when men heard Song Rao researched chemistry at the Yingyu Academy of Sciences and was a professor and postdoctoral supervisor at 27, they either claimed the generation gap was too wide or felt they couldn’t “handle” her and retreated.

This nearly drove Mrs. Song crazy. She felt her daughter was brilliant; how could others see her as some sort of monster? If men weren’t up to the task, there would surely be women who could appreciate her daughter.

“Probably can’t do dinner soon,” Song Rao said, feeling a headache coming on. “I have to go on a blind date.”

“Another day is fine,” Jiang Yi encouraged. “Maybe you’ll actually meet someone you like this time, Song Rao.”

Song Rao thought the possibility was slim.

The rain grew heavier, looking as though it would last the entire night.

“Are you going home, or back to her place?” Song Rao asked. She frowned immediately after, remembering Shen Siyun was abroad and couldn’t look after Jiang Yi anyway.

Receiving no response, Song Rao glanced sideways. Jiang Yi had already fallen asleep in the passenger seat, her slightly furrowed brows reflecting a trace of sorrow and fragility.

At some point, the smiles had vanished from Jiang Yi’s face. Her nights were haunted by that woman named Shen Siyun. Song Rao didn’t know what kind of magic she possessed to make Jiang Yi so devoted.

When the same-sex marriage policy was first announced, Jiang Yi had come to her full of excitement, saying she had to marry Shen Siyun. She had a spark in her eyes that Song Rao hadn’t seen in their 13 years of friendship—as if she’d finally found a goal worth a lifetime of effort.

Later, about half a month later, that spark vanished, replaced by the wilted look of someone who had been crushed. Song Rao guessed Shen Siyun must have said something cruel, leaving Jiang Yi filled with insecurity and melancholy.

“Forget it, just come to my place.”

Song Rao called her student to say she wouldn’t be returning to the lab due to the rain, turned the steering wheel, and drove straight home.

The car pulled into a residential complex and parked in the underground lot of Building 25.

Song Rao turned off the engine, unbuckled her seatbelt, and woke her up. “Jiang Yi, wake up. We’re home.”

“Home?” Jiang Yi’s eyes were bleary, her voice thick with a lingering daze.

Song Rao grabbed an umbrella from the back, circled to the passenger side, and opened the door. “Jiang Yi, come on.”

However, the person in the car barely moved. Sensing something was wrong, Song Rao reached out to touch Jiang Yi’s forehead. A scorching heat met her hand—Jiang Yi had a fever.

Song Rao immediately collapsed the umbrella. Ignoring the rain, she leaned in to unbuckle Jiang Yi’s belt, hauled her out of the seat, and carried her on her back toward the elevator.

In her feverish state, Jiang Yi dreamed. She dreamed of being heartlessly abandoned by Shen Siyun on a torrential rainy night. Shen Siyun continued to be the eldest miss of the Shen family—high and mighty, surrounded by suitors—while Jiang Yi became an unwanted stray dog.

Shen Siyun’s poison had seepyed into her very soul; every breath she took seemed to carry her scent, making her heart ache with longing.

When the new marriage policy came out, she had asked her: “Shen Siyun, do you think we’ll get married in the future? Should we have children after we marry?”

Shen Siyun’s reply—“Enjoy the moment”—had left her stunned. Bitterness and ache spread through her limbs. The realization that she wasn’t in Shen Siyun’s future plans made her painfully aware of her own standing.

In Shen Siyun’s eyes, Jiang Yi was merely a dispensable lover.

When she woke up again, it was the next day. Seeing Song Rao’s parents gave Jiang Yi a sense of disorientation, as if she hadn’t seen them in a lifetime.

Song Rao’s father was a doctor and kept the house well-stocked with medicine. According to Song Rao, her father had given Jiang Yi an emergency fever reducer last night, and her temperature hadn’t fully broken until midnight.

“Thank you, Uncle, Auntie,” Jiang Yi thanked them sincerely.

“Don’t mention it, Xiao Yi. Just be more careful when you’re out. Luckily it was just the bag; at least you’re safe.”

Song Rao walked in from outside. “Jiang Yi, they caught the thief. The police sent your bag over. Check if anything is missing.”

“Thank you so much. Nothing is missing.” Jiang Yi took the bag and looked through it. Her money and phone were still there. However, when she turned on the phone, she saw over a dozen missed calls. The smile that had just appeared on her face froze, and her brow twitched uncontrollably.

“What’s wrong?” Song Rao noticed her expression change.

“Nothing, I’m just going to return a call.” Not wanting her friend to worry, Jiang Yi walked into the bathroom and nervously dialed the number back.

A long silence followed as the line rang.

Just as she thought the person on the other end was too busy and was about to hang up, the call connected.

“Shen Siyun…” She had barely spoken when the other person interrupted her.

“Why did a man answer your phone last night?”

Shen Siyun’s voice usually carried a lazy tone, like a cat basking in the sun—refined and indolent. When they were alone, she loved to use inflections that could make one’s ears tingle; even a simple “Mhm” could have a melodic rise and fall. It was even more pronounced in bed.

Jiang Yi had a quirk: she felt an inexplicable attraction to people with beautiful voices. Shen Siyun was, by far, the woman with the most beautiful voice she had ever met. That seductive, doting, lazy, and mischievous tone during their intimate moments always made Jiang Yi surrender, intoxicated by Shen Siyun’s tenderness.

But the coldness and arrogance in Shen Siyun’s voice when she was angry made Jiang Yi tremble. It felt as though two complete strangers were facing off.

“Explain,” the voice came again, this time laced with irritation and impatience.

Jiang Yi opened her mouth. “My bag was snatched last night. I didn’t have my phone with me.”

“By the way, Jiang Yi, I changed your clothes for you last night. I washed your underwear too, so remember to take them when you head back.”

Song Rao’s indifferent voice drifted in from behind the frosted glass door. Jiang Yi hurriedly covered the phone’s microphone and called out a response.

Once she heard the footsteps retreat, Jiang Yi hesitantly uncovered the phone, wondering if the other woman had heard.

The next second, the call she was on suddenly ended. It immediately switched to a video call request, waiting for her to answer.

“…”

Jiang Yi’s heart suddenly pounded. She instinctively looked at herself in the mirror. The woman in the mirror had a clean face, delicate features, and a soft, translucent beauty—a classic “Jiangnan beauty.” Her long hair was a bit messy, so she quickly smoothed it down.

Only then did she tap the accept button.

The first thing she saw was Shen Siyun’s stunning, bright face, her thin lips pressed into a tight line. But Jiang Yi noticed the background behind her.

It looked like a projection in a conference room—product descriptions and 3D diagrams, all in English.

Is she in a meeting?

Shen Siyun seemed to sense her confusion and said curtly, “The meeting is over.” However, when she saw the clothes Jiang Yi was wearing, her brow furrowed imperceptibly.

“Did you get your bag back?”

“Yes, just now. The police brought it over,” Jiang Yi answered.

“Are you hurt?”

Jiang Yi looked down at her elbow; Song Rao had already treated the wound. “Not really.”

“Rest well at home. I bought you a bag; someone will deliver it to the door later. Remember to sign for it.”

“Okay.” Jiang Yi knew she couldn’t refuse, so she could only accept this form of care. “When are you coming back?”

Even though she knew Shen Siyun had only been gone for a few days, it felt like she had been away forever.

“Probably in about half a month.”

A breeze blew in through the window, catching Jiang Yi’s loose, thin clothing and outlining her willow-thin waist.

Jiang Yi heard the woman change her answer: “Two weeks, if I’m fast.”