Chapter 49
The evening breeze was chilly, and even with Lin Qianqian pulled close, Lu Yin could feel the cold air against her skin. Lin Qianqian clutched her stomach, her gaze fixed on Lu Yin’s face.
She had only wanted to unbutton her pants, but if Lu Yin was offering something more…
“So…a quickie?” she asked, her fingers toying with the buttons of Lu Yin’s shirt.
She traced the skin of Lu Yin’s wrist with her fingertip, watching her expression.
“Get in the car,” Lu Yin said.
Lin Qianqian grinned, another victory in her ongoing seduction campaign. It was so easy to tempt Lu Yin.
She quickly got into the car, wondering if they should find a more secluded spot. It was New Year’s Day, and the streets were crowded.
She started unbuttoning her shirt, thinking about how to muffle her moans later.
Lu Yin stopped her hand as she reached for the last button.
“You’re going to help me?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.
“I said get in the car. We’re going home,” Lu Yin said, tossing a jacket from the back seat. “Put this on.”
Lin Qianqian’s face fell, and she slumped in her seat, pulling the jacket over herself without putting her arms through the sleeves.
So much for her plans.
Lin Qianqian saw Ming Yao again on New Year’s Day. She had been sulking because Lu Yin was at an emergency meeting at the art institution. Now, she had someone to distract her.
Since their reconciliation, Lin Qianqian had been clinging to Lu Yin every night, their encounters often lasting late into the night.
She was looking for Lu Yin’s throat-soothing tea when she saw Ming Yao’s message.
She agreed to meet, her curiosity piqued.
Ming Yao seemed like a different person.
Her figure was no longer thin and frail, but healthy and toned. But her expression was tense, her makeup minimal, a stark contrast to her usual glamorous style.
“Did you…change your style?” Lin Qianqian asked, confused by her friend’s transformation.
“Change my style?” Ming Yao asked, her posture stiff and formal.
“You used to say you would wear miniskirts in the winter, even if you froze,” Lin Qianqian said, still unable to reconcile this quiet, reserved Ming Yao with the flamboyant, attention-seeking friend she knew.
“That’s not good for your health,” Ming Yao said.
“Isn’t the point of life to enjoy yourself?” Lin Qianqian retorted. “A few decades of fun, followed by a few years of suffering. Seems like a fair trade.”
Ming Yao shook her head, her expression unreadable.
Lin Qianqian checked her WeChat. Ming Yao had added her back.
She decided to drop the fashion discussion and ask about Ming Yao’s disappearance.
“I just wanted to stay home. I don’t really need a phone,” Ming Yao said, her brow furrowed, her words disjointed. “I only have this afternoon free. I have to be home by six.”
“Six? You asked me to meet at two, and it’s already three,” Lin Qianqian sensed something was wrong, but couldn’t quite grasp it. “Are you having trouble adjusting to being back? Did you hit your head or something? Isn’t your stepmother a psychiatrist? Why don’t you talk to her?”
“No, my mother is very good to me.”
“Is she abusing you?” Lin Qianqian asked suddenly.
“No!” Ming Yao said quickly.
She mentally reviewed her daily schedule. She was simply following Zhong Shiwu’s instructions, her days and nights filled with prescribed activities.
It wasn’t abuse. She had everything she could possibly want, far more than when she lived alone abroad.
But something felt wrong.
Like on the way here, at 2:30, her scheduled bathroom break time, she had instinctively suggested meeting Lin Qianqian, disrupting her routine, but had still insisted on stopping at a restroom on the way.
“Let’s find a restaurant. I just woke up,” Lin Qianqian said, browsing nearby restaurants on her phone, then shivering. “Ming Yao, do you want hot pot? It’s getting cold.”
Ming Yao shook her head. “Too oily. Unhealthy.”
“Then barbecue? But we just had that a few days ago,” Lin Qianqian thought for a moment. “We could try a different place.”
Ming Yao refused. “Too many calories. I’ll gain weight.”
“Then what do you want to eat?” Lin Qianqian asked.
Ming Yao hesitated. “Anything is fine.”
Lin Qianqian looked at her, speechless.
Ming Yao’s lips trembled, but she didn’t speak.
She ate whatever Zhong Shiwu gave her, and Zhong Shiwu had forbidden her from eating these foods.
“Are you hungry?” Lin Qianqian asked.
“Not really. I had a big lunch.”
Lin Qianqian led her to a nearby barbecue restaurant. “Then I’ll eat, and you can watch. Since you’re not hungry.”
She hadn’t eaten anything all day and was starving.
She quickly ordered a few of her favorites. The restaurant was almost empty, and the food arrived quickly.
Ming Yao watched her devour the food, then pointed at the lettuce. “Can I eat this?”
“Sure,” Lin Qianqian said, realizing she had been too focused on her food, forgetting their usual gossip sessions.
She took a piece of lettuce and offered it to Ming Yao. “Do you want some beef? I can wrap it for you.”
“No, this is fine,” Ming Yao said, taking a piece of lettuce and holding it to her lips, then hesitating.
Lin Qianqian placed a few pieces of grilled meat on Ming Yao’s plate. “Try this. It’s delicious!”
Ming Yao picked up her phone, adjusted the volume, and held it to her ear, a faint smile appearing on her face as she heard the familiar chime. She started eating the lettuce, her bites small and hesitant.
“I forgot to give you chopsticks,” Lin Qianqian said, realizing the chopstick holder was out of Ming Yao’s reach.
She unwrapped a pair of chopsticks and placed them on Ming Yao’s plate.
Ming Yao picked up the chopsticks, then put them down, sighing. “Qianqian, I’m not very good with chopsticks anymore.”
Zhong Shiwu had made her realize that her eating utensils weren’t hands and chopsticks, but her mouth. Only her mouth.
“Is there something wrong with them? Are they splintered?” Lin Qianqian offered her another pair. “I didn’t check them properly. So many disposable chopsticks are defective these days.”
Ming Yao didn’t want to explain. She felt like a dog, obeying her master’s every command.
At least dogs could rebel, could chew on furniture. She couldn’t even do that.
When had she become Zhong Shiwu’s puppet?
It seemed like a lifetime ago, when she had confidently declared herself Zhong Shiwu’s client, her boss.
That night, she had gotten drunk and climbed into Zhong Shiwu’s bed.
And after that, she had become Zhong Shiwu’s…possession?
“When is your sister coming back? Soon, right?” Lin Qianqian asked, trying to break the awkward silence.
“Before the Spring Festival. Very soon,” Ming Yao said, her voice filled with a sudden excitement. “I can finally leave!”
“Leave for where?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere,” Ming Yao mumbled. “Anywhere…”
Lin Qianqian looked at her, concerned. Even she could see that Ming Yao wasn’t herself.
She looked like a pampered rich girl, but her behavior was strange, unsettling.
The combination of beauty and strangeness was unnerving, like an AI robot with human emotions.
But Ming Yao seemed more like a human with the instincts of another creature.
“You should really talk to Dr. Zhong,” Lin Qianqian said. “I know she’s busy, but you should see her.”
Ming Yao wanted to leave. She needed to be home, waiting for Zhong Shiwu.
She knew Lin Qianqian had noticed her strange behavior, but she couldn’t explain.
She and Lin Qianqian couldn’t go back to their carefree days. It was her fault.
She shouldn’t have involved Zhong Shiwu in the first place.
“Qianqian, I want to go home now,” she said.
Lin Qianqian glanced at her phone. It was just past four.
She hesitated, then nodded. “Do you want me to call you a taxi?”
“No, my driver will pick me up.”
As they left the restaurant, a car was already waiting for them.
Lin Qianqian waved goodbye, wondering if Ming Yao was having a mental breakdown.
But she wasn’t a professional. Perhaps she was just projecting her own anxieties onto Ming Yao, her recent experience with Lu Yin making her more sensitive to these things.
When she got home, Lu Yin was already there.
Lin Qianqian’s earlier worries vanished, replaced by anger. She marched over to Lu Yin, showing her the unanswered messages on her phone. “Why did you leave without saying anything this morning?”
“You were sleeping so soundly. I didn’t want to wake you,” Lu Yin said, opening her suitcase and packing a few clothes.
Lin Qianqian was about to continue her interrogation when she saw the suitcase, her heart sinking. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going on a training retreat.”
“A retreat? For three months?” Lin Qianqian quickly unpacked the suitcase. “You’re not going!”
“It’s only for a week. I’m not teaching. Just helping with some administrative tasks,” Lu Yin repacked the clothes. “A lot of the part-time teachers are unavailable because of final exams.”
“No! It’s New Year’s Day!” Lin Qianqian sat on the bed. “You promised to spend the holidays with me.”
“I promised to spend Christmas with you,” Lu Yin said, pulling the clothes out from under Lin Qianqian. “The only thing I have scheduled before the Spring Festival is this retreat.”
She glanced at Lin Qianqian, who was trying to summon tears.
“Don’t even try,” she said, seeing through Lin Qianqian’s usual tactic.
“These are real tears! See?” Lin Qianqian yawned dramatically, trying to appear pathetic.
But Lu Yin continued packing, ignoring her.
“Can I sleep in your room while you’re gone?”
“Sure.”
“Can I cuddle your pillow?”
“As long as you don’t do anything…inappropriate.”
“You…I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Lin Qianqian said, magnanimous in her feigned indifference. “Then leave me one of your shirts. I’ll put it on your pillow.”
Lu Yin looked at her, confused by this strange request.
Lin Qianqian, ever the drama queen, declared, “I need something to remind me of you while you’re gone. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
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