Chapter 57
The next morning, Lin Qianqian remembered Ming Yao’s voice message.
She called Ming Yao, who answered immediately.
“Qianqian, I’m moving. I’m not living with Zhong Shiwu anymore. I’ll send you my new address when I get there.”
“So suddenly?” Lin Qianqian asked. “Last night, you…”
“Last night was nothing. I’m busy now. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay,” Lin Qianqian said, hanging up.
Ming Yao hadn’t chosen one of the Ming family properties. She had simply obeyed Ming Yi’s instructions.
She rarely went out, unfamiliar with the city, her only point of reference Zhong Shiwu’s house, the route she had traveled countless times.
Ming Yi’s housekeeper opened the door, and Ming Yi herself carried Ming Yao’s suitcase inside, taking her hand and leading her into the house.
“Do you like it?” Ming Yi asked, smiling.
It had been a while since they had last seen each other, and even though they were sisters, Ming Yao couldn’t bring herself to be affectionate.
“I like it,” she said, her gaze fixed on the floor, not even looking at the house.
It was even larger than Zhong Shiwu’s villa, the rooms empty and echoing.
“Good,” Ming Yi said. “If you need anything, just ask the housekeeper.”
She patted Ming Yao’s hand. “You know I’m busy. I haven’t been able to spend much time with you.”
“I’m an adult now. I can take care of myself,” Ming Yao said, forcing a smile.
That morning, after her run, Zhong Shiwu hadn’t been home.
She had heard the car arrive, assuming it was Zhong Shiwu, and had run to greet her, her smile fading as she saw Ming Yi instead.
On the way here, Ming Yi had told her many things, some true, some not. Ming Yao hadn’t been listening.
She wasn’t close to Ming Yi, and now that Ming Yi was in power, she knew her older sister’s true intentions. Ming Yi’s success abroad had been a calculated move, a strategic maneuver to gain control of the family business.
And until now, Ming Yao had been a pawn in their game, manipulated by both Ming Yi and Zhong Shiwu.
“I’m glad you’re so understanding,” Ming Yi said, releasing her hand, relieved.
She gave the housekeeper a few instructions, then left without a word, not even a glance in Ming Yao’s direction.
Ming Yao’s belongings were few, most of them provided by Zhong Shiwu.
Zhong Shiwu had been generous, buying her clothes, jewelry, even doing her hair and makeup.
Unlike her time abroad, when she had felt like a homeless stray, despite her ample allowance.
Zhong Shiwu had said she was sick, and Ming Yao wondered if her illness was caused by Zhong Shiwu, or if she had simply become dependent on her, her every action, her every thought, dictated by Zhong Shiwu’s will.
She carried her suitcase upstairs, refusing the housekeeper’s offer to help.
She closed the door to her room and locked it, then sat on the floor, her back against the door, her legs curled up, the room dark and silent.
If only Zhong Shiwu had said goodbye.
She hadn’t even seen her that morning. Ming Yi must have arranged everything, even her departure.
She felt like a discarded object, tossed aside without a second thought.
Ming Yao examined her own behavior, wondering what she had done wrong.
She had been a bit rebellious, perhaps, a bit too fond of partying, her only real transgression failing a class after being caught skipping it.
But she hadn’t hurt anyone. She fed stray cats and dogs, paid for her friends’ outings, offered comfort when they were down, her jokes harmless, her intentions always good.
Even the grumpy old lady next door had called her a well-behaved child.
So why…
Was she alone now?
Her sister, after a few brief conversations, had abandoned her, leaving her in this empty house.
Ming Yi was much older, closer in age to Zhong Shiwu than to her.
Her mother had died giving birth to her, and the maternal love she had found in Zhong Shiwu had been a cruel illusion, a carefully constructed trap.
And she couldn’t go back to the Ming family, not with her siblings resenting her, their eyes filled with envy and hatred, blaming her for their diminished inheritance.
Tears welled up in her eyes. She had been so foolish, so easily manipulated.
It was lunchtime. Her phone’s alarm rang, a reminder of her scheduled meal.
She sat on the floor, her mind blank, not wanting to move.
But the growing discomfort in her stomach forced her to stand, her legs numb, her body stiff. She slowly made her way downstairs.
The housekeeper greeted her with a smile, the dining table laden with food, both Chinese and Western dishes, but Ming Yao had no appetite.
The housekeeper pulled out a chair for her and poured her a glass of mulled wine.
“Could I…have some warm milk instead?” Ming Yao asked, pointing at the wine.
The housekeeper immediately complied.
Ming Yao looked at the cutlery, picking up the knife and fork, then putting them down. “Can I…”
The housekeeper stood there, waiting for her instructions.
“Can I eat alone?”
The housekeeper hesitated. “Ming Zong told me to take care of you.”
“Take care of me, or watch me?” Ming Yao asked, her voice sharp. “Why don’t you tell her I’m dying here?”
“I apologize. Please let me know if you need anything, Miss,” the housekeeper said, then quickly left the room.
Alone in the dining room, Ming Yao’s carefully maintained composure crumbled. She sighed, her heart heavy with a sense of despair.
Contacting Lin Qianqian wouldn’t help. This was a family matter. She couldn’t drag her friend into it.
And Lin Qianqian, despite her good intentions, would only worry, her concern adding to Ming Yao’s burden.
She couldn’t eat, the memories of her time with Zhong Shiwu, the strict routines, the rewards and punishments, making her feel nauseous.
She had fought with Zhong Shiwu last night, her eyes red and swollen from crying, sleeping on the living room floor, ignored and uncomforted.
Zhong Shiwu had told her to go to her room, but she had refused, accepting only a thin blanket as a concession.
She should have known better. Zhong Shiwu, a psychiatrist, was a master manipulator, easily preying on her naiveté.
Ming Yi, that morning, hadn’t even asked about her swollen eyes, her obvious distress, simply dropping her off at this empty house and leaving, as if fulfilling a contractual obligation.
Ming Yi, now in control of the Ming family business, would stop at nothing to maintain her power. If Ming Yao weren’t her sister, she would have been discarded long ago.
Tears dripped onto her plate, and she picked up her phone, turning on the familiar chime.
She leaned down and took a bite of the food with her mouth, the familiar flavors a small comfort, and then she started to cry, the tears flowing freely, her sobs echoing in the empty room.
“Why…why do they think I’m useless?” she sobbed, even though she knew Ming Yi simply wanted everything for herself.
She was foolish, easily manipulated, a pawn in Ming Yi’s game, her presence in China a distraction, a shield, while Ming Yi built her empire abroad.
Abandoned in this luxurious prison, at twenty-three, she could already see her future, her life stretching before her, empty and meaningless.
And no one could hear her cries.
Three days passed. Ming Yao’s behavior, her habits, remained unchanged.
Zhong Shiwu had forced her to change, to adapt, and she had obeyed, but now, alone, she reverted to her old ways.
What was the point of changing?
No one cared.
And she missed Zhong Shiwu, her absence a constant ache, a growing void.
The more she adhered to the schedule, the more obedient she felt.
And the more obedient she felt, the more she craved Zhong Shiwu’s approval, her touch.
She just wanted to be petted, her head stroked, her hair brushed. She didn’t dare ask for more.
But Zhong Shiwu had abandoned her, not even returning to say goodbye, her silence a deafening roar in Ming Yao’s ears.
She looked at their chat history, the messages brief and impersonal, Zhong Shiwu’s instructions limited to times and locations, no words of comfort, no expressions of affection.
Only touch, a fleeting moment of pleasure, a reward for her obedience.
She had been so blind, so easily manipulated. How could anyone outsmart a psychiatrist?
She had investigated Zhong Shiwu before their agreement, her family history, her past.
Zhong Shiwu was capable and confident, her life an open book, her information readily available online.
She had mastered the art of manipulation, her years of experience giving her an uncanny ability to read people, to exploit their weaknesses.
And yet, Ming Yao still clung to a sliver of hope.
If Zhong Shiwu could see through everyone, surely she could see Ming Yao’s need for her, her desperate longing?
It wasn’t just physical intimacy anymore. It was something deeper, a twisted, possessive love, a need for absolute obedience, for unwavering loyalty.
The first snow of winter fell that night, two weeks before the Spring Festival.
The house was warm, the heating system on full blast. She sat by the window, wearing only a thin shirt, watching the snow fall, the white flakes against the dark sky a stark contrast to the darkness within.
It felt like a weight on her chest, crushing her, suffocating her.
She longed to be held.
She went to her room, her bare feet cold against the wooden floor, and sat on the floor, her phone clutched in her hand, her fingers hovering over Zhong Shiwu’s contact information.
She wanted to call, but she was afraid.
The desire, the longing, intensified, a burning ache that consumed her.
Zhong Shiwu, after her last appointment, rubbed her shoulders, glancing at her watch. The ringing of her phone made her frown.
The number was unfamiliar, unsaved, but she knew who it was.
She answered.
“What…what are you doing?” Ming Yao’s voice trembled, her breathing heavy.
Zhong Shiwu checked her calendar. It had only been three days since Ming Yao had moved out. She had expected a week before Ming Yao contacted her.
She had overestimated Ming Yao’s resilience.
She walked over to the window. It was dark outside. Talking to children always made her lose track of time. She had worked late again.
“Working,” she said, her tone cool, her patience for Ming Yao gone now that her partnership with Ming Yi was finalized. “Is there something you need, Ming Xiaojie?”
“Mom…Dr. Zhong…” Ming Yao started with a polite formality, testing the waters.
“What is it, Ming Xiaojie?” Zhong Shiwu repeated, her tone unchanged.
“Mom…when are you coming to get me…?” Ming Yao’s voice trembled, Zhong Shiwu’s formality a sign of rejection. “I don’t want to be alone here…”
“Didn’t we agree? The contract is over. Our relationship is over,” Zhong Shiwu said, forcing a laugh. “I’m just a psychiatrist. I have no power or influence. If word of this gets out, it would ruin my reputation.”
She wiped the condensation from the windowpane, the coldness of the glass a stark contrast to the heat that was building within her.
“I know I was wrong. Please…take me back…” Ming Yao sobbed. “I need you…I shouldn’t have treated you like that…please…”
“What about Ming Yi?” Zhong Shiwu asked.
“I don’t know…I don’t know where she is…I just want you…to hold me, to feed me, to take care of me…” Ming Yao’s hand moved to her hair, remembering Zhong Shiwu’s touch.
“Ming Xiaojie, this is my work time. You’re interrupting me,” Zhong Shiwu said, her voice laced with annoyance.
She wasn’t a kind person. Her gentle demeanor was a professional courtesy, not a reflection of her true self.
“I can give you money! A lot of money!” Ming Yao pleaded, her voice rising in panic. “Don’t hang up! Can I see you again…?”
“Mom…Mom…please…”
Zhong Shiwu hung up, grabbed her coat, and left the clinic.
She didn’t like carrying a bag, finding it restrictive. She put her phone in her pocket and retrieved a piece of chocolate liqueur candy, the kind she gave Ming Yao as a reward for her obedience.
She had patients of all ages, candies of all flavors, but the liqueur candies were reserved for Ming Yao.
She didn’t like having favorites. It was dangerous.
She tossed the candy in the trash and called a friend, inviting her to dinner.
It was a cold night, the snow falling steadily. Perfect weather for soju.
Her first contact declined, and she felt a flicker of annoyance, quickly moving on to her second choice.
Lu Yin, her first choice, was walking in the snow with Lin Qianqian.
Lin Qianqian had bought a duck-shaped mold and was making a row of duck footprints in the snow, her childish delight infectious. A passing child asked if she could have one of the molds, and Lin Qianqian readily agreed.
Lu Yin watched her, a smile playing on her lips. What was the point of soju when she could be here, with Lin Qianqian, her every action a source of amusement?
Lin Qianqian’s hands were red from the cold, and she ran over to Lu Yin, showing her her palms.
Lu Yin took her hands, her own warmth a comforting contrast to Lin Qianqian’s coldness.
“Which woman were you talking to on the phone? Am I not enough for you?” Lin Qianqian asked, poking Lu Yin playfully. “Two-timing me, are you?”
“It was Dr. Zhong. She invited me to dinner,” Lu Yin said, seeing no reason to lie.
“Are you going?” Lin Qianqian asked, her voice filled with a sudden anxiety. “It’s getting late, and I haven’t finished playing yet! You didn’t even compliment my rabbit army!”
She offered a series of excuses, hoping to keep Lu Yin with her.
If it had been anyone else, Lu Yin would have ignored the invitation.
But with Zhong Shiwu, she wasn’t sure. That woman was capable of anything, and their relationship was complicated.
“I’m not going. I’ll stay here with you,” Lu Yin said, walking over to the row of duck footprints in the snow. “Very impressive,” she added, her voice dry.
“But you’re standing up Dr. Zhong. She’ll be sad, won’t she?” Lin Qianqian asked, feigning concern.
“She can have dinner with Yu…” Lu Yin stopped herself, knowing Lin Qianqian didn’t like hearing that name. “Then let her be sad.”
“You’ve been saying all the right things lately,” Lin Qianqian said, rising onto her tiptoes. “Let me taste your lips.”
Lu Yin frowned, glancing at the passing pedestrians.
But Lin Qianqian, ignoring the onlookers, threw her arms around Lu Yin, her cold hands touching the back of Lu Yin’s neck.
Lu Yin didn’t pull away, letting her, her body still and unresponsive.
Lin Qianqian kissed her, her lips soft and playful, then grinned. “They are sweet!”
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