Category: Immature Confession Day gl

Chapter 50

The news of Lu Yin’s training retreat was unexpected, and with her departure scheduled for the next morning, Lin Qianqian didn’t have time to properly process her emotions, let alone argue.

That night, she clung to Lu Yin, refusing to let go, hoping to delay her departure, even wishing she would oversleep and miss her flight.

Her initial cries of protest had morphed into a desperate plea, “Don’t go,” her tears a mixture of sadness and frustration.

Lu Yin’s attempts to comfort her were met with resistance, her gentle touch eliciting only more tears, her hand ending up with a clear bite mark.

“Are you a dog?” Lu Yin asked, exasperated, but not truly angry.

She knew Lin Qianqian had separation anxiety, but work was work, and canceling her plans at the last minute would be irresponsible.

Lin Qianqian understood, but her emotions, once unleashed, were difficult to control.

The first half of the night had been filled with passion, the second with tears.

The next morning, her eyes red and swollen, Lin Qianqian went to the airport with Lu Yin.

Three days passed before Lu Yin finally contacted her.

Lin Qianqian had decided not to bother her, assuming she was busy, but Lu Yin’s silence had been unsettling.

When Lu Yin finally messaged her, asking her to retrieve some materials from a drawer at the art institution, Lin Qianqian’s frustration boiled over.

She had wanted Lu Yin to be her servant for a day, her birthday wish unfulfilled. This was her chance. She would make Lu Yin pay!

She sent a list of demands, carefully crafting her arguments, but Lu Yin’s reply was a single word: “Okay.” Lin Qianqian’s carefully constructed arguments were rendered useless.

Lu Yin hadn’t even bothered to read them.

The injustice!

After a brief internal pep talk, Lin Qianqian headed to the institution.

She retrieved the materials and was about to leave when she saw Zhong Shiwu chatting with one of the teachers.

She remembered Ming Yao’s strange behavior and wondered if she should speak to Zhong Shiwu, but she barely knew her.

She decided to mind her own business, but as she walked past, Zhong Shiwu called out to her.

“How is your sister?”

“She’s fine,” Lin Qianqian replied.

She had a more favorable impression of Zhong Shiwu than Yu Miao, whose coldness was always evident, never acknowledging their sisterly bond.

Zhong Shiwu, however, would often tease her about their unconventional relationship.

“I heard she’s at a training retreat. Why didn’t you go with her?”

“She’s busy with work. I didn’t want to disturb her,” Lin Qianqian said, fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

She was Ming Yao’s friend, and after their New Year’s Day lunch, she had messaged Ming Yao, only to discover she had been deleted again.

It meant she could only contact Ming Yao when Ming Yao initiated contact.

“She’s not one to be easily disturbed, especially not by you,” Zhong Shiwu said, walking towards the office.

Their conversation wasn’t over, and Lin Qianqian reluctantly followed.

“Come on in,” Zhong Shiwu said, gesturing towards the office. “Have a seat.”

Lin Qianqian sat at Lu Yin’s desk, watching Zhong Shiwu prepare tea. She recognized the packaging from Lu Yin’s apartment, the throat-soothing tea Lu Yin often drank before her classes.

“I confiscated it from your sister. She wouldn’t let me have any.”

Lin Qianqian watched her, unconvinced. Lu Yin wasn’t that possessive.

But she knew Zhong Shiwu, even without her psychiatrist title, was a master manipulator.

She thought about the pillow, the shirt, her own brazen display of affection, dressing the pillow in Lu Yin’s shirt.

“This tea is good for your throat,” she said, her voice polite, her posture stiff and formal.

She remembered her last conversation with Zhong Shiwu, when she had been allowed to ask about Lu Yin, but had received only vague, generic answers, while Zhong Shiwu had subtly extracted information about Ming Yao.

“Is it?” Zhong Shiwu asked, smiling. “Do you drink it often?”

“I’ve only seen my sister drink it,” Lin Qianqian said, avoiding Zhong Shiwu’s gaze, her leg bouncing nervously.

“Relax,” Zhong Shiwu chuckled. “You know about your sister’s condition. As her doctor, I have to do my job. But she’s very guarded. Don’t you want her to get better?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“Good. Then how about another exchange of information?” Zhong Shiwu said smoothly. “You tell me about Lu Yin’s recent behavior, and I’ll tell you…”

She paused, as if considering it. “What do you want to know?”

“About Ming Yao,” Lin Qianqian said immediately. “Is she okay? I can’t reach her. Could you please spend some time with her? She doesn’t go out much anymore. She seems withdrawn.”

Zhong Shiwu nodded, as if expecting this question.

She had allowed Ming Yao to go out on New Year’s Day as an experiment, a test of her “overly programmed” lifestyle.

The results had been conclusive.

“I’m her mother, and I know Yaoyao’s biological mother died when she was young. I sympathize with her, and I’ll take good care of her,” Zhong Shiwu said, her voice gentle, trying to reassure Lin Qianqian. “And you know we have a contract. Even if it’s just for the money, I have to fulfill my obligations, don’t I?”

Lin Qianqian finally smiled, relieved.

“Now, let’s get down to business,” Zhong Shiwu said, placing a questionnaire in front of Lin Qianqian. “Tell me about Lu Yin’s recent behavior. Be honest.”

Lin Qianqian took the pen and began filling out the form.

Half an hour later, she handed it back.

Zhong Shiwu scanned it quickly, then stood up.

As she left, she said, “This is our little secret, okay?”

Lin Qianqian nodded, gathering the materials Lu Yin had requested and heading home.

She scanned the documents and sent them to Lu Yin, then, when Lu Yin replied a few minutes later, she initiated a video call.

“When are you coming back?!” she demanded, her anger bubbling to the surface as she saw Lu Yin’s face on the screen. “It’s been three days!”

“I told you a week,” Lu Yin said, glancing at the calendar. “Just wait a little longer. I’ll bring you some local specialties.”

“No, I don’t want anything. I don’t like local specialties,” Lin Qianqian said, rejecting the offer.

Lu Yin sighed, looking at Lin Qianqian’s pouting face, a familiar headache forming.

“Didn’t you want me to be your servant?” she asked, checking the messages on her phone.

“Yes, but you have to be here to be my servant!” Lin Qianqian retorted. “When I was abroad, my servants were always at my beck and call. They didn’t disappear for a week.”

She paused, seeing Lu Yin’s expression darken.

—”You shouldn’t say such things.”

The words flashed through her mind, a warning bell.

“I…I was just kidding,” she said quickly, backtracking. “You’re my first servant, and my last.”

Lu Yin answered a call, then said, “I’ll talk to you when I get back.”

The screen went black, and Lin Qianqian wondered if Lu Yin was angry. She didn’t like being reminded of Lin Qianqian’s life abroad.

She hadn’t meant to say it. It had just slipped out.

That night, missing Lu Yin intensely, her earlier anger replaced by a deep longing, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

A week apart felt like an eternity.

Four years had been long enough.

She hugged the pillow, still wearing Lu Yin’s shirt, burying her face in it, inhaling the familiar scent.

A pillow wasn’t the same as the real thing…

She rolled over, her hand moving between her legs, imagining Lu Yin’s touch, the warmth of her hand against her skin.

She closed her eyes, lost in the memory, the pleasure building, the waves crashing against the shore…

The ringing of her phone startled her.

She saw Lu Yin’s name on the screen and answered immediately.

“Sister…” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep, her hair a tangled mess, the scent of Lu Yin’s pillow filling her senses.

“I’m coming back tomorrow. I’ve finished everything here,” Lu Yin said.

Even though Lin Qianqian had mentioned things that triggered her, she didn’t want Lin Qianqian to be upset.

She heard a faint rustling sound from Lu Yin’s end of the line, like fabric rubbing against fabric.

“Lin Qian? Are you listening?”

The sound stopped, then started again.

“Are you feeling unwell?” Lu Yin asked, her voice filled with concern.

“Sister…” Lin Qianqian finally responded, unable to articulate her feelings, her voice a soft, breathless whisper.

Her cheeks were flushed, her body warm, a tingling sensation spreading through her.

“I’m coming back tomorrow. Did you hear me?” Lu Yin asked, sensing Lin Qianqian’s state, her voice softening.

Lin Qianqian, not hearing her name, felt a surge of impatience.

She picked up her phone and held it closer to her mouth. “Sister, say my name…say my name…”

Lu Yin hesitated, considering hanging up.

This call wasn’t a good idea.

“Say my name…Sister…” Lin Qianqian pleaded, her voice trembling.

Lying in Lu Yin’s bed, her head on Lu Yin’s pillow, she was touching herself, imagining Lu Yin’s hands on her body.

Now, she just wanted to hear her name, Lu Yin’s voice a familiar comfort, a guiding light in the darkness.

Her hips moved against her hand, the pressure building, her arm growing numb.

“Sister…” she moaned, tears escaping her closed eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Lin Qian,” Lu Yin said finally, her voice calm, steady.

“Say it again…”

The sound of her name, so familiar, so comforting, made her clench the phone tighter, her knuckles white.

“Lin Qian, Lin Qian,” Lu Yin repeated, her voice soft. “Be careful, okay?”

“Mm…” Lin Qianqian wanted to reply, but the words caught in her throat. “Don’t stop…say it again…”

Lu Yin heard her ragged breathing, the soft moans, the muffled words.

The rustling of the sheets continued for several seconds, the sounds amplified by the phone pressed against Lu Yin’s ear.

“Lin Qian,” she said again, when the sounds subsided.

Lin Qianqian pushed her hair back from her face, her voice hoarse. “Sister…”

Silence.

“Hey…say something!” she said, her mind clearing, a wave of embarrassment washing over her, Lu Yin’s silence amplifying her self-consciousness.

Still no response. “Lu Yin!” she exclaimed, frustrated.

The line went dead.

That woman. She’s definitely doing this on purpose.

She had hung up on her twice tonight!

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.”

Chapter 48

Lu Yin, having no time for Lin Qianqian’s antics, pushed her away.

Lin Qianqian flopped dramatically onto the bed. “I knew it! My free food and lodging have a price! You’re already tired of me?”

“If you want to continue your free food and lodging, you’ll listen to me.”

“I just wanted to be close to you,” Lin Qianqian said, grabbing her pants and putting them on. “Isn’t that what life is all about? Food, warmth, and a little bit of fun?”

Seeing Lu Yin leave the room, she quickly finished dressing, grabbed her jacket, and followed.

It was Lin Qianqian’s first time at a furniture store, and she behaved like a child in a candy shop, testing out lamps, flopping onto sofas and beds, her excitement palpable.

Lu Yin, however, was all business, heading straight for the clothing racks, practicality her main concern.

Lin Qianqian, on the other hand, prioritized aesthetics.

Lu Yin had already noticed this, seeing the colorful stickers adorning Lin Qianqian’s closet and the refrigerator door.

Lu Yin’s understanding of Lin Qianqian was evident in her choices, all of which were rejected by Lin Qianqian for various reasons: too dull, too bulky, too difficult to move.

Lu Yin didn’t understand the need for a mobile clothing rack, but she indulged Lin Qianqian’s whims.

Finally, Lin Qianqian spotted a white clothing rack with side shelves and hooks, her eyes lighting up.

Lu Yin, seeing the hooks at the top, designed for hanging bags and accessories, pursed her lips, already anticipating Lin Qianqian’s reaction.

“Sister! Look at the hooks! They look like antlers!”

“If you like it, we’ll buy it,” Lu Yin said simply.

“I only like it because of you,” Lin Qianqian said, stroking her chin, adding a bit of flattery, waiting for Lu Yin to pay.

The sales assistant, eager to demonstrate the product’s versatility, hung various garments on the rack, explaining its features.

Lin Qianqian nodded absently, her attention solely on the antler-like hooks.

Lu Yin paid, gave the delivery address, and then, grabbing Lin Qianqian by the back of her neck, led her out of the store like a misbehaving child.

“Don’t we want to look around more? I want to buy everything!” Lin Qianqian said, stumbling slightly as Lu Yin pulled her along. “Sister, do you like anything? A warm lamp for the bedroom? It would be so romantic!”

Lu Yin ignored her, her gaze fixed ahead, ignoring the curious glances of other shoppers.

“Or a purple light for the bathroom! We could use it when we take a bath together!”

Lu Yin remained silent, her hand searching for her car keys in her pocket.

“Or a beanbag chair! You could lie on it, and I could lie on you!”

Seeing Lu Yin’s frown deepen, she quickly amended, “Or you could lie on me…I wouldn’t mind.”

“Be quiet,” Lu Yin said finally.

“Fine, it’s not like I’m paying. I have no say in this…” Lin Qianqian said sullenly. “I’m just a poor, unloved little grass, at the mercy of the wind and rain.”

Lu Yin got into the driver’s seat. Lin Qianqian tried to open the passenger door, but it was locked.

She tried again, then realized Lu Yin had locked it deliberately.

She marched over to the car and knocked on the window angrily.

Lu Yin lowered the window slightly, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “What?”

“Why did you lock the door?”

“I need a few minutes to calm down,” Lu Yin said, her voice flat. “Otherwise, I might actually hit you.”

“Oh my…” Lin Qianqian looked around, feigning embarrassment. “We’re in public! How can you be so forward?”

Lu Yin rolled up the window.

Lin Qianqian walked around to the front of the car, crossed her arms, and glared at Lu Yin.

Lu Yin honked the horn, startling Lin Qianqian, who quickly stepped back.

She tried the car door again. It was unlocked. She got in.

“I’m freezing! It’s dark! Can’t you see?” she complained. “You’re so heartless.”

Lu Yin started the car. “You weren’t cold when you were walking around with bare legs.”

“That was for a different purpose.”

“What purpose?”

“To se…to keep warm at home,” Lin Qianqian stammered, changing her mind mid-sentence.

“Seducing who?” Lu Yin pressed, catching the unspoken word.

Lin Qianqian covered her mouth, her words muffled. “I advise you, dear deer, not to challenge me. Or I’ll make you regret it.”

“I advise you not to say such things,” Lu Yin retorted, glancing at her.

Lin Qianqian shivered at the look in Lu Yin’s eyes, her earlier bravado fading. She had been joking, but if she pushed Lu Yin too far, her words might become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“Where are we eating?” she asked, changing the subject, sitting up straight. “I didn’t eat the cold noodles this morning.”

Lu Yin named a restaurant, and Lin Qianqian, after checking the menu online, seemed satisfied.

She glanced at Lu Yin, admiring her decisiveness.

If it had been her and Ming Yao, they would have spent hours wandering aimlessly, their indecision ultimately leading to nothing but an increased step count on their phones.

Lu Yin, knowing her lack of direction, always took charge, and Lin Qianqian found this dynamic comforting, a return to their childhood roles, the obedient younger sister following her older sister’s lead.

She had tried messaging Ming Yao again, but she was still blocked.

She decided to call, ready to give Ming Yao a piece of her mind.

What was going on?

Was she backing out of their agreement, abandoning her plan to buy her best friend a house?

She wouldn’t tolerate such betrayal.

But the number was disconnected.

Lin Qianqian checked the number again, but it was correct.

This was strange.

“Sister, have you seen Dr. Zhong recently?”

Lu Yin glanced at her. “Why are you looking for her?”

“No reason. I just can’t reach Ming Yao, and Dr. Zhong is her only family here, right? She doesn’t really talk to her other relatives.”

“I’m not sure,” Lu Yin said.

She never asked about Zhong Shiwu’s affairs, but Zhong Shiwu often shared information, even without being asked.

Lin Qianqian assumed Zhong Shiwu was closest to Ming Yao, but Lu Yin knew she was actually closer to Ming Yao’s older sister, Ming Yi.

Zhong Shiwu’s recent trips abroad had been to visit Ming Yi.

Ming Yi, having built a successful business abroad, was working with Zhong Shiwu, preparing to return and take over the family company.

Ming Yao’s role in all this was unclear, her position seemingly dependent on Zhong Shiwu’s whims.

Lu Yin wasn’t sure if it was a strategic partnership or something else entirely.

“Could you ask her when you see her?” Lin Qianqian asked. “This is strange. Ming Yao has never disappeared like this before. Even when we were out of touch, it was only for a day or two.”

“I’ll see. She’s busy, and she doesn’t always reply to my messages.”

Lin Qianqian sighed, looking at the red exclamation mark next to Ming Yao’s name in her chat history.

They had dinner at a Korean barbecue restaurant. Lu Yin had made a reservation online, and they were seated immediately upon arrival.

Lin Qianqian, a devoted carnivore, ordered a mountain of meat, adding a few token vegetables as an afterthought, then handed the menu to Lu Yin.

Lu Yin glanced at it and gave it to the waiter.

With Lu Yin there, Lin Qianqian never looked at the prices, only concerned about the quality of the food.

If the food was bad, it meant Lu Yin had chosen a bad restaurant. If the food was good, it meant she had excellent taste.

The barbecue was delicious, the aroma of grilling meat filling the air. As soon as the food arrived, Lin Qianqian started grilling.

After their feast, Lin Qianqian feigned concern about the cost. “So oblivious to the struggles of the common people. Five hundred yuan for a single meal…”

“Didn’t you spend ten times that at that Western restaurant?” Lu Yin asked.

“That’s not true!” Lin Qianqian said, trying to remember if she had ever told Lu Yin about that incident. She had only asked Lu Yin for the money, not the details.

“Isn’t ‘drunk words speak sober thoughts’ your motto?”

“Maybe I was just being dramatic…” Lin Qianqian said, touching her stomach, which seemed to have expanded slightly under Lu Yin’s care.

She rested her chin on her hand, finishing her juice. “Five hundred yuan! I could have lived on that for a week abroad!”

“One hundred Australian dollars? For a week?” Lu Yin frowned.

Even with Lin Yun’s reckless spending, the remaining money should have been enough for Lin Qianqian to live comfortably abroad.

Lin Qianqian froze, realizing her slip-up. “The old lady next door was very kind to me. I often ate at her place, and I taught her Chinese,” she said quickly.

Lu Yin’s expression clearly indicated disbelief.

“Frugality is a virtue,” Lin Qianqian insisted.

But under Lu Yin’s gaze, she looked down, defeated.

“Don’t look at me like that. I was fine abroad. I came back safe and sound.”

Being called Ming Yao’s tagalong wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Ming Yao, her wealthy and generous friend, had paid for most of their outings. Lin Qianqian, uncomfortable with accepting so much charity, had been forced into compliance, Ming Yao even threatening to end their friendship and defending her against any gossiping classmates.

The majority of her own expenses had been medical bills, the result of several food poisoning incidents caused by her terrible cooking.

One incident had almost landed her in the emergency room, the thought of the ambulance fees sobering her up enough to seek less expensive treatment.

She had lived frugally, Lin Yun’s monthly allowance of three thousand yuan, barely enough to cover her expenses in Australia.

Her relationship with Lin Yun had deteriorated after the incident with Lu Yin, and she hadn’t wanted to ask for more money.

Lu Yin, seeing her distress, changed the subject, handing her the menu. “Are you full? We can order more.”

“So generous!” Lin Qianqian said, pushing aside her unhappy memories. “Then I’ll have another plate of meat. I’ll work hard to earn it back for you.”

She looked at Lu Yin, her eyes stinging, her throat tightening.

No matter what, past or present, here or abroad, Lu Yin was the only one who had ever truly cared for her.

“And another juice!” she said, trying to distract herself. “And a cola!”

Lu Yin didn’t question her ability to consume so much, indulging her every whim.

Leaving the restaurant, Lin Qianqian was so full she could barely walk.

Lu Yin, afraid of carrying her and putting pressure on her full stomach, held her hand, their pace slow and deliberate.

Lu Yin opened the passenger door, and Lin Qianqian sat down, her feet still on the ground outside the car.

Lu Yin chuckled at her awkward posture.

Lin Qianqian, hearing the soft sound, glared at her. “Don’t laugh at me!”

Lu Yin’s smile faded, but the amusement lingered in her eyes.

She stood outside the car, watching Lin Qianqian struggle for a few minutes.

Lin Qianqian, uncomfortable with the tightness of her pants, looked around, making sure no one was watching, then gestured for Lu Yin to come closer.

“Sister, shield me,” she said, unbuttoning her pants.

“What are you doing?” Lu Yin asked, always surprised by Lin Qianqian’s impulsive actions.

Lin Qianqian pulled up the hem of her sweatshirt.

“Lin Qian,” Lu Yin said, trying to adjust her clothes, but Lin Qianqian swatted her hand away.

“Just a minute. I’ll be quick.”

Lu Yin stared at her, her own words surprising her. “Are you really going to do that here?” she asked.

Chapter 47

The night market trip wasn’t entirely fruitless.

After the painting incident, Lu Yin had relaxed her vigilance, allowing Lin Qianqian to not only examine her art supplies but also to secretly measure the empty frame. At the night market, she had found a cheap print, a mass-produced image of a deer in a forest, a peaceful scene with no hint of Christmas cheer.

The empty hook on the loft wall was a constant reminder of their complicated history, and neither of them had any inspiration for a new painting.

As she hung the print, Lin Qianqian felt a pang of anxiety. The painting had been a significant part of Lu Yin’s life for the past four years. She was forcibly erasing that memory, and she wasn’t sure about the consequences.

Standing before the wall, the memories of the previous night intensified, the burning sensation a visceral reminder of Lu Yin’s touch.

Her method for dealing with unpleasant memories remained the same: replace them with new, positive ones, in the same setting, with the same person.

She called out to Lu Yin, who was arranging her new trinkets on the shelves.

Lin Qianqian waited, expecting Lu Yin to put the useless knick-knacks away in the cabinet, which was no longer locked, its contents now deemed unimportant.

“Did you hang it?” Lu Yin asked, coming upstairs.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Lin Qianqian gestured dramatically towards the print.

Lu Yin nodded, and Lin Qianqian immediately threw her arms around her neck, her feet stumbling slightly before Lu Yin steadied her.

Their eyes met, and Lin Qianqian suddenly felt shy, the words “kiss me” caught in her throat.

She looked at Lu Yin’s eyes, then at her lips, licking her own.

Lu Yin, seeing her intentions, simply smiled.

“Hurry up…kiss me, kiss me…” Lin Qianqian mumbled, her lips brushing against Lu Yin’s.

Lu Yin’s eyes darkened, and she kissed Lin Qianqian, a deep, possessive kiss.

Lin Qianqian’s head tilted back, her movements guided by Lu Yin’s hand, the kiss consuming her, their breaths mingling.

Lu Yin’s tongue traced her lips, the sensation spreading through her body, a warm tingling that settled in her lower abdomen.

The wind howled outside, the branches swaying, their leaves rustling in the darkness.

Lu Yin’s hand found the source of the tingling, her touch gentle, almost hesitant.

Lin Qianqian’s eyes fluttered closed.

She had complimented Lu Yin’s hands many times, but never with the usual platitudes about their suitability for painting. She had called them artistic, romantic.

Lu Yin had once studied French, telling her it was the most romantic language, and she had learned a single phrase: Je t’aime. I love you.

Lu Yin’s hands, so artistic, so romantic, were now writing the most romantic words on her body, creating a masterpiece of touch and sensation.

The wind seemed to howl all night. Lin Qianqian’s cheek was pressed against the cold glass of the window, the first light of dawn painting the sky a soft pink.

In her hazy state, she mistook it for moonlight, her vision blurred by tears.

The sounds of traffic drifted up from the street below, the remnants of Christmas cheer still lingering in the air. Lin Qianqian’s breath fogged the glass. Her hair, plastered to her face, tickled her skin.

She felt a hand on her neck and turned her head.

Lu Yin’s lips found hers, a slow, sensual kiss.

As they parted, Lu Yin kissed the delicate skin of her back.

Lin Qianqian’s legs were unsteady as she stood, her foot landing in a puddle of something wet and sticky. Lu Yin caught her, lifting her into her arms and carrying her downstairs.

“Sister, I’m cold…” she mumbled, burying her face in Lu Yin’s shoulder.

Lu Yin adjusted the shower temperature and went back upstairs to clean up.

Lin Qianqian stood before the mirror, examining the marks on her neck and collarbone, knowing Lu Yin was returning the favor.

She had always loved leaving marks on Lu Yin’s skin, especially around the mole on her collarbone.

This woman was so petty.

She touched her cheek, remembering the cold, hard pressure of the glass against her skin.

She dried herself, put on an oversized sweatshirt, and left the bathroom.

Lu Yin came downstairs, frowning at her attire. “Put some pants on. Aren’t you cold?”

Lin Qianqian shook her head, running towards Lu Yin and wrapping her leg around Lu Yin’s waist. “Sister!”

“What?” Lu Yin asked, holding the garbage bag away from her. “I’m dirty.”

“Just complimenting you,” Lin Qianqian whispered. “You were much gentler this time.”

Lu Yin, knowing better than to expect a sincere compliment, unwrapped Lin Qianqian’s leg and took out the trash.

When she returned, Lin Qianqian, hiding behind the door, jumped out and surprised her.

Lin Qianqian unbuttoned Lu Yin’s shirt, searching for the marks she had left.

But Lu Yin’s skin was clean, unmarked.

“That’s not fair!” she complained.

“What’s not fair?” Lu Yin asked, calmly buttoning her shirt.

“You bit me last night,” Lin Qianqian said, pulling down the neckline of her sweatshirt to reveal the marks.

They were still visible.

They didn’t hurt, but the memory made her shiver.

Lu Yin glanced at them, then looked away. “When did I bite you? You were the one clinging to me.”

Lin Qianqian, usually quick with a retort, was speechless. She had been kissing Lu Yin, and then suddenly, she had been pressed against the window.

“You owe me. Tonight’s my turn,” she said, following Lu Yin around the apartment, her gaze demanding.

“Fine,” Lu Yin agreed easily.

“Just like that?” Lin Qianqian asked, confused.

No playful refusal. This wasn’t like Lu Yin.

Lu Yin, seeing her bare legs, went to Lin Qianqian’s room, retrieved a pair of pants, and tossed them to her.

“I’m not cold at home,” Lin Qianqian said, still refusing to put them on, enjoying the effectiveness of her seduction tactics.

Lu Yin checked her phone. “It’s below freezing outside.”

“But my love for you is a burning inferno, an eternal flame, like a volcano, ready to erupt,” Lin Qianqian said dramatically. “Or rather, it erupts every time I see you, every time I think of you.”

Lu Yin ignored her dramatics. “Aren’t you tired? You were up all night.”

“Now that you mention it, I am a little sleepy,” Lin Qianqian said, poking Lu Yin’s shoulder. “Kiss me, and I’ll go to bed.”

“You seem quite energetic, not sleepy at all.”

Lin Qianqian’s cries last night had been endless, but Lu Yin, worried about her comfort, had paused whenever Lin Qianqian shifted her hips.

And now, she seemed fully recovered.

Lu Yin picked up a broom and started sweeping.

She had always kept the apartment spotless, even when she lived alone, the repetitive motions a way to quiet her mind.

“Can I have some cold noodles first? I’m hungry,” Lin Qianqian said, sitting on the sofa with her legs crossed, her hand raised.

Lu Yin put the broom away and went to the kitchen.

The sounds of cooking filled the apartment. Lin Qianqian yawned, leaning against the sofa.

With Lu Yin busy, she had no one to bicker with, and her exhaustion finally caught up with her. She fell asleep.

Lu Yin emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of cold noodles and saw Lin Qianqian asleep on the sofa.

Lin Qianqian looked quite innocent when she was quiet.

But her silence never lasted.

She placed the noodles on the table and carried Lin Qianqian to the bedroom, placing her on the bed.

She had instinctively brought Lin Qianqian to her own room.

As a child, Lin Qianqian had always loved sleeping with her.

And if she refused, Lin Qianqian would offer her the ruler, her eyes pleading. “Sister, let me sleep with you. You can even hit me.”

Lin Qianqian stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

Lu Yin sat beside her, patting her gently. “Go to sleep.”

Lin Qianqian snuggled into the pillows and closed her eyes.

Lu Yin returned to the living room and ate her noodles. She unlocked her phone, the screen still on the chat window with Lin Qianqian.

Lin Qianqian had taken her phone last night and sent herself the selfies, but not the picture of them together.

She scrolled through their chat history.

Lin Qianqian had been back for several months, but they hadn’t exchanged many messages.

She scrolled back to the messages from four years ago.

A bitter smile touched her lips.

She wasn’t good at saying goodbye.

She had shamelessly stalked Lin Qianqian’s social media, knowing she would thrive abroad.

But Lin Qianqian had returned, just as she had left, defying her wishes.

Lu Yin had never believed she could control Lin Qianqian. Every act of “discipline” had been met with willing compliance.

Lin Qianqian said she couldn’t live without her, but how could Lu Yin live without Lin Qianqian?

They were bound to each other, their lives intertwined.

That evening, Lu Yin woke Lin Qianqian up.

Lin Qianqian had wanted to buy a clothes rack for her room, but hadn’t found a suitable one online, so they were going to a furniture store.

Lin Qianqian was already awake, her eyes blinking at Lu Yin as she entered the room.

“Did you sleep well?” Lu Yin asked, glancing at the time. “Ready to go to the furniture store?”

Lin Qianqian stared at her, a new plan forming in her mind.

“I didn’t sleep at all!”

Lu Yin crossed her arms. “And?”

“How did you used to make me fall asleep?”

Lu Yin’s face remained impassive. “I would hit you.”

“Sister, I really can’t sleep. Why don’t you hit me?” Lin Qianqian asked, crawling to the edge of the bed and tugging at Lu Yin’s clothes.

She sat up, her voice a low whisper in Lu Yin’s ear. “I’m only wearing a sweatshirt, you know.”

Chapter 46

Christmas Eve was the most festive night of the year. Lin Qianqian chose to leave the house in the late afternoon, conveniently concealing the fact that she had slept through the morning and most of the afternoon.

Following her carefully curated itinerary, she directed Lu Yin to a bustling night market.

The streets were crowded, the traffic heavy, and by the time they arrived, it was completely dark.

A claw machine, offering various prizes, stood at the entrance of the market.

Lin Qianqian’s eyes immediately landed on a Santa hat.

“Sister!” she exclaimed, exchanging cash for tokens. “See that Santa hat? I’m going to win it!”

She knelt down, ready to play, and Lu Yin placed a small stool behind her.

The first attempt: three mismatched symbols.

“One more time. It’s just the first try,” Lin Qianqian said, ever the optimist. “I only need nineteen Santa hats. I wouldn’t be able to carry any more.”

The second attempt: the same result.

The third attempt: another failure.

…

On her nineteenth attempt, the first two symbols finally matched: two Santa hats. The third symbol, however, tantalizingly close, slipped away.

Lin Qianqian turned to Lu Yin. “Twenty tokens. Have I been scammed?”

Lu Yin sighed. “I’ll reimburse you.”

“I refuse to give up,” Lin Qianqian declared, inserting another token. Finally, three matching symbols appeared, but not the ones she wanted.

She exchanged her prize for a pack of blind box stickers. “I definitely lost this round,” she said, her earlier enthusiasm slightly diminished.

She led Lu Yin to a less crowded area and sat down. “They’re Christmas-themed stickers, with a hidden design.”

She quickly opened the pack. “The hidden design!” she exclaimed. “It’s a little deer!”

She jumped up and down excitedly. “Sister, I got you!”

Lu Yin’s lips parted slightly, silently accepting the strange declaration.

“Worth it! Twenty tokens well spent! This is much better than a Santa hat!” Lin Qianqian beamed. “I’ll put one on myself first.”

She peeled off a sticker and placed it on her shirt, then another on Lu Yin’s collar. “And one for you, Sister.”

She took a picture of the stickers and sent it to Ming Yao.

“Huh? Did she block me?” Lin Qianqian looked at her phone, confused. “No, it says I’ve been deleted…”

She assumed Ming Yao was drunk and acting out again. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Meanwhile, in a luxurious villa, a table laden with delicious food sat untouched.

Ming Yao sat at the table, her plate empty, a set of pristine cutlery beside it, her gaze fixed on the woman opposite her.

“Even if you don’t eat anything, the food will be removed after forty-five minutes,” Zhong Shiwu said, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Don’t forget your after-dinner exercise. I don’t want a repeat of last night, when you were almost ten minutes late.”

“I didn’t eat anything. Why would I need to exercise?”

“Isn’t it part of our schedule?” Zhong Shiwu walked over and patted her head. “Whether you do it or not is your choice, but whether I make you do it is mine.”

She pulled up a chair and sat beside Ming Yao, her gaze softening with feigned concern. “New Year’s is just around the corner, and then Spring Festival. Can’t you even endure this for a little while longer?”

She reached out to touch Ming Yao’s hand, but Ming Yao pulled away, standing up and backing away from the table, grabbing a steak knife, the blade pointed towards Zhong Shiwu.

“Ming Yao, be a good girl,” Zhong Shiwu said, her smile fading. “I’m your mother. You shouldn’t treat me like this.”

“Send me away!” Ming Yao said, her voice trembling despite the knife in her hand. “I don’t want to stay here anymore! Send me back abroad!”

Zhong Shiwu sighed, leaning back in her chair, her fingers drumming on the table as if considering the proposal.

“I want to leave tonight!” Ming Yao pressed, her bravado unconvincing, her words sounding more like a plea.

“No, that’s not a good idea,” Zhong Shiwu said, her voice soft, her rejection firm. “I don’t like it.”

She sat up straight and yawned. “You know, some parents don’t like punishing their disobedient children during the holidays, so they deal with them beforehand. I’m starting to understand why.”

Ming Yao dropped the knife, kneeling on the carpet, her hands on Zhong Shiwu’s legs. “Or…can I at least move somewhere else? I need some privacy.”

Zhong Shiwu glanced at her watch, issuing a final ultimatum. Her smile returned, and she gently stroked Ming Yao’s hair. “Yaoyao, you have five minutes left for dinner.”

She picked up the knife, expertly sliced the steak, and offered a piece to Ming Yao. “Here.”

Ming Yao opened her mouth, the taste of the steak lost on her.

“Two minutes left,” Zhong Shiwu placed the plate on the floor. “Hurry up.”

Ming Yao reached for the steak with her hand, but Zhong Shiwu slapped her hand away with a fork. “Don’t be messy. Use your hands.”

Ming Yao looked at the fork, then at Zhong Shiwu, who casually tossed it across the table.

She hesitated for a moment, then leaned down and took a bite of the steak with her mouth.

“Ninety seconds,” Zhong Shiwu said, pressing her hand against Ming Yao’s head. “You have to eat faster.”

Ming Yao opened her mouth wide, devouring the steak, biting her tongue in her haste, but ignoring the pain.

She was already counting down the seconds until her mandatory after-dinner walk.

---

Lin Qianqian was still reveling in her sticker victory.

She peeled off a few more stickers and placed them on Lu Yin’s shirt, then leaned in to kiss the little deer sticker on Lu Yin’s collar, only to be pushed away.

“Hey! What’s wrong with kissing a sticker?” she grumbled, kissing the sticker sheet in her hand instead.

If they weren’t in public, she would have pinned Lu Yin against a wall and kissed her senseless.

They continued their stroll through the night market, Lu Yin’s phone buzzing with payment notifications.

Lin Qianqian loved quirky little trinkets. She was now wearing reindeer antlers and had retrieved a mini paintbox from her pocket.

She found a mirror and painted her nose white.

“When did you steal that?” Lu Yin asked, seeing the familiar paintbox, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her voice.

“It’s not stealing! It’s ours!”

“Fine, when did you confiscate it?”

“This morning, while you were showering,” Lin Qianqian said, placing her hand over her heart dramatically. “I battled my conscience for eight hundred rounds, and I emerged victorious.”

Lu Yin watched her, then led her further into the market.

Lin Qianqian paused, then asked, “Does it matter?”

“No, use it if you want,” Lu Yin said, her gaze scanning the crowd, unsure where to go next.

She rarely visited such crowded places. If Lin Qianqian hadn’t returned, she would have spent Christmas Eve like any other workday, even Spring Festival.

When the art institution first opened, they had only rented the studio space, no office, the teachers barely acquainted. Company dinners had been frequent.

Back then, her refusal to attend had been interpreted as aloofness, but as they got to know her, they understood her preference for solitude, no longer pressing her to socialize.

“A dog! A Samoyed!” Lin Qianqian exclaimed, pulling Lu Yin towards a fluffy white Samoyed. After asking the owner’s permission, she knelt down and petted the dog.

“What’s its name?” she asked.

“Trouble,” the owner replied.

“Trouble?” Lin Qianqian’s eyes lit up. “What a fun name! And so fluffy!”

She spent five minutes showering the Samoyed with affection before reluctantly standing up.

“Sister, do you like dogs? Or cats?”

Lu Yin considered it. “Not really.”

“Why?” Lin Qianqian looked back at the retreating Samoyed. “They’re so cute!”

“I don’t have the energy to take care of one.”

Her words held a deeper meaning. She didn’t want to divert any of her attention, her energy, away from Lin Qianqian.

A pet, another living creature in their home, would disrupt the delicate balance of their relationship.

“But I want one. Can I get one?” Lin Qianqian asked, her eyes pleading.

“No.”

“Why not?” Lin Qianqian demanded.

“I don’t want anything else in this house,” Lu Yin said seriously. “Even if it makes you happy, it would make me unhappy.”

Lin Qianqian hadn’t expected such a direct answer. She had thought Lu Yin would lecture her about the responsibilities of pet ownership.

“I’ll accept that answer,” she said, a smile playing on her lips, leading Lu Yin towards a giant Christmas tree.

Lu Yin hadn’t changed.

But in the past, she would have told Lin Qianqian what was wrong with her behavior. Now, she simply stated her own feelings, her own preferences.

It made Lin Qianqian feel closer to the real Lu Yin, their connection deepening.

The Christmas tree was decorated with colorful lights, and people were taking pictures. Lin Qianqian wouldn’t miss this opportunity.

She stood in front of the tree, asking Lu Yin to take her picture.

The flash went off a few times, and she rushed over to see the photos. “I look amazing! Sister, you’re such a good photographer!”

Lu Yin smiled at her flattery.

Lin Qianqian didn’t ask Lu Yin to pose alone. She pulled Lu Yin towards the tree and asked a passing stranger to take their picture together.

“Sister! Smile!” she said, without turning around.

The stranger obliged, and Lin Qianqian thanked her, eager to see the photos.

She was beaming in every picture, and Lu Yin, as requested, had a faint smile on her face.

The only difference was that Lin Qianqian was looking at the camera, while Lu Yin was looking at her, her gaze intense and unwavering.

Chapter 45

Lin Qianqian sank into the warm water of the bathtub, her earlier fear and anxiety gradually fading. She looked at Lu Yin, who was washing clothes at the sink, several garments stained with paint. Lu Yin’s hands gripped the edge of the sink, her back to Lin Qianqian, her silence unnerving.

Lin Qianqian rested her head on the edge of the tub. “Sister…” she called out, her voice thick with unshed tears.

No response. She tried again.

“Sister…”

Lu Yin turned around and walked over to the bathtub, checking the water temperature. “Is it cold?” she asked, wiping the water from Lin Qianqian’s forehead.

Lin Qianqian, her body relaxed from the warmth of the water, didn’t want to move.

Lu Yin knelt down, examining the fading marks on her neck, her gaze lingering on the deeper wound on her lip.

Her expression was neutral, but her touch was gentle, almost hesitant. “We should put some ointment on this. It’ll heal slowly in this weather.”

“Where?” Lin Qianqian asked, licking her lip.

“Is it sore…down there?” Lu Yin asked, her voice soft, her focus on Lin Qianqian’s well-being.

Lin Qianqian’s mouth closed, then she mumbled, “It’s…okay…”

She couldn’t discuss such things with Lu Yin, even though she knew Lu Yin wasn’t thinking about it, her question purely practical.

“But you bit my lip really hard…” Lin Qianqian said, pointing at her lip, the least of her injuries.

She didn’t want Lu Yin to feel guilty, trying to deflect the conversation, to focus on something less intimate, less revealing.

Lu Yin, still concerned, ordered some ointment online. “Tell me if you’re not feeling well.”

“I told you,” Lin Qianqian said, her eyes shining, but the redness in the corners still evident, her appearance vulnerable. “Next time, can you kiss me somewhere else? I don’t just want kisses on the lips!”

Lu Yin knew she was trying to lighten the mood, to avoid the heavier emotions that lingered between them.

But Lu Yin was the cause of her pain, and a wave of guilt washed over her as she looked at Lin Qianqian.

She turned back to the sink, scrubbing at the paint-stained clothes.

Still bottling it up, Lin Qianqian thought, annoyed.

She moved her legs, the soreness intensifying, like the ache after a strenuous workout.

The warm water had cleared her head, and she replayed the events of the evening.

“I’m glad I didn’t accept any of their advances abroad. You’re the only one I love, Sister,” she said.

She was generally well-behaved, her rebellious streak reserved solely for Lu Yin, a classic case of taking advantage of someone’s doting.

This selective defiance made her appear polite and accommodating, her occasional outbursts of mischievousness seen as endearing quirks.

As a result, she had had her share of admirers abroad.

She had rejected invitations from her senior classmates, from the president of the photography club.

They had pressed her for a reason, and she had simply said, her voice meek and apologetic, “I’m not good enough for you.”

Although Lu Yin hadn’t explicitly stated her feelings, Lin Qianqian had received the confirmation she needed.

Lu Yin had heard her words, “Sister, you’re the only one I love,” ignoring the childish possessive tone, focusing on the underlying message.

Lin Qianqian, noticing Lu Yin’s sudden stillness, her gaze intense and unwavering, looked at her, her expression questioning.

“What did you say?” Lu Yin asked.

“I said, you’re the only one I love, Sister.”

“Not that part.”

“But it’s true!” Lin Qianqian insisted, then, remembering her earlier words, “I rejected everyone’s advances abroad?”

Lu Yin didn’t confirm or deny it, her gaze like a vine, slowly wrapping around Lin Qianqian, tightening its grip.

Lin Qianqian sensed something, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I didn’t…they were just friends…”

She remembered Lu Yin’s words, during her breakdown, You can make friends, fall in love.

Did that mean, in Lu Yin’s eyes, friendship and romantic love were equally threatening?

The thought startled her. Surely Lu Yin wasn’t that possessive.

“Don’t mention those things in front of me again,” Lu Yin said, her voice low.

“Why?” Lin Qianqian asked, surprised. She had been so proud of her unwavering devotion to Lu Yin, eager to share her rejections as proof of her love.

But Lu Yin didn’t seem pleased.

“They were just friends. Are you trying to control my social life?”

Lu Yin paused. “Maybe,” she admitted.

Lin Qianqian’s smile faltered. “I have to go out, meet people. I can’t live without friends. I’d go crazy.”

“Then stay home. Don’t go anywhere,” Lu Yin said calmly, scrubbing at the clothes, the casual tone of her words masking their dangerous implications.

Lin Qianqian had only dared to entertain such a fantasy in her own mind, but hearing Lu Yin say it so seriously, so matter-of-factly, she couldn’t dismiss it as a joke.

And Lu Yin rarely joked.

Lin Qianqian suddenly realized that if she had dated someone abroad, and Lu Yin had found out, she might have actually died in the loft that night.

“What about the painting?” she asked.

Lu Yin paused, surprised by the question. “It’s gone.”

“Why did you paint me?” Lin Qianqian asked. “It was beautiful.”

“Because I was lonely,” Lu Yin said, rinsing the clothes and placing them in a basin.

“Sister, you’re not alone anymore.”

“That’s why the painting is gone,” Lu Yin said, carrying the clothes to the washing machine.

Lin Qianqian watched her leave, trying to stand up, but her legs were weak, and she sank back into the tub.

Lu Yin returned, lifting her out of the bathtub and wrapping her in a towel, drying her gently, like a small, wet puppy.

Lin Qianqian looked up at her and grinned.

She had grown accustomed to smiling at Lu Yin like this, a silly, playful grin, either to appease her anger or to elicit a smile in return.

But Lu Yin’s face remained impassive, her emotions hidden behind a mask of indifference.

Lin Qianqian sat on a chair, wrapped in the towel, while Lu Yin dried her hair.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, Lu Yin’s gentle touch making her feel sleepy, but the soreness between her legs was a constant reminder of their earlier encounter.

She hadn’t realized how long it had been since Lu Yin had dried her hair like this.

As a child, she had been spoiled by Lu Yin, their home a world of just the two of them, Lin Qianqian’s every whim indulged, her every emotion directed at Lu Yin.

She would chatter endlessly about her day at school, demanding Lu Yin’s undivided attention, making her put down her brushes and listen to her “important announcements.”

Even simple tasks, like drying her hair, had become a shared ritual, Lin Qianqian lazily waiting for Lu Yin to attend to her needs.

If her duvet wasn’t tucked in properly, she would make Lu Yin fix it.

If she slipped in the bathroom, even without injury, she would cry and make Lu Yin help her up, needing comfort, needing reassurance.

She had shared all her childish antics with Lu Yin, the habit persisting even now.

And Lu Yin had always indulged her.

Perhaps she had been spoiled, her expectations unrealistic, Lu Yin’s rare displays of anger always surprising, always unsettling.

She could never truly dominate Lu Yin, but she always wanted Lu Yin to yield, to give in to her whims.

When her hair was dry, she lay down on the bed. Lu Yin went to the door, returning with a bag of ointment.

Lin Qianqian stared at the ceiling as Lu Yin applied the ointment, the cool gel soothing the soreness.

“Sister…” she whispered, her breath catching in her throat.

“What?”

“I wish you were always this gentle,” she said, her voice sincere.

She had thought the bucket of cold water was her worst punishment, but Lu Yin’s loss of control in the loft had been far more terrifying.

She had longed for intimacy, but not like that…

“We’ll see,” Lu Yin said.

She had been observing Lin Qianqian since their return from the loft, watching her recover from the initial shock.

She seemed shaken, but her resilience was remarkable.

Lin Qianqian looked up at her, her neck stiff. “What do you mean, ‘we’ll see’?”

“Don’t try anything like that again.”

“Do you have other secrets?” Lin Qianqian asked.

“I mean…” Lu Yin paused, her gaze meeting Lin Qianqian’s.

The heater was on, and Lin Qianqian lay naked on the bed, her body exposed, vulnerable.

“Don’t talk about kissing and cuddling all the time.”

“But I like talking about it. And I like doing it,” Lin Qianqian said, reaching out to touch Lu Yin’s hand.

“That’s why I said ‘we’ll see.’”

Lin Qianqian connected the dots, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Are you saying I’m seducing you?”

Lu Yin lightly slapped her mouth.

She pulled the duvet over Lin Qianqian and went to wash her hands.

Lin Qianqian snuggled into the pillows, waiting for her return. “Sister, are we still going out tomorrow?”

“Didn’t we already agree on that?” Lu Yin asked, kissing her forehead.

“But you said I couldn’t leave the house!”

Lu Yin’s arm tightened around her. “I didn’t mean it.”

Lin Qianqian clearly wasn’t taking her seriously.

Since her secret had been exposed, there was no point in hiding it anymore.

She didn’t want to see Lin Qianqian with anyone else. If she could keep her at home, make her completely dependent, that would be ideal.

She had enough money to take care of Lin Qianqian for the rest of her life.

She wouldn’t need the tracking app, wouldn’t need the security cameras.

If Lin Qianqian was willing, Lu Yin knew she could make her completely subservient, her every whim fulfilled.

Chapter 44

Lin Qianqian, it seemed, never understood the implications of her impulsive requests, her playful provocations.

Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating their bodies.

Countless nights, she had clung to Lu Yin like this, her hands trembling, her desire a silent plea.

Her hand slid from Lu Yin’s wrist to her palm, the heat intense, almost burning.

She kissed Lu Yin’s palm, her tongue tracing the lines.

Lu Yin’s hand tightened around hers, pinning her against the wall.

The waves crashed against the shore, the boat rocking violently.

Lin Qianqian’s head spun, her eyes closed, unable to see, the world a blur of motion and sensation.

She felt like she was floating on a sea of foam, her body immersed, weightless, the sensation both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Sister…” she whispered, her eyes still closed, unable to escape, her body pressed against Lu Yin’s, the heat intensifying.

Her legs kicked out instinctively, Lu Yin’s warm breath against her neck sending shivers down her spine.

The light in Lu Yin’s eyes dimmed, her gaze unfocused, lost in the moment.

The fireworks faded, the sparks falling to earth, and Lin Qianqian felt a sudden drop, a terrifying pull towards the abyss.

She clutched Lu Yin’s shoulders, her nails digging into her skin, the pain a sharp contrast to the pleasure that had consumed her moments before.

In the past, her soft moans, her whispered pleas, would have fueled Lu Yin’s desire.

But now, she couldn’t influence Lu Yin, whose grip tightened, her movements mechanical, as if controlled by an unseen force.

Lin Qianqian tried to pull away, to escape the rising tide, but a hand on her neck held her captive.

“Sister!” she cried out, her voice barely a whisper, the hand tightening, cutting off her air.

She coughed, a dry, hacking sound, her throat constricting, the lack of oxygen making her lightheaded.

Her legs kicked out again, not in passion, but in a desperate struggle for survival.

The scene shifted, the present merging with the past, the night their relationship had shattered.

Lu Yin had just won her case, her father sentenced to life in prison for insurance fraud and murder.

Until then, everyone had believed Lu Sui’s death was an accident. Only Lu Yin had refused to accept it.

She had meticulously gathered evidence, finally finding justice for Lu Sui, for herself.

But the insurance money, most of it already spent by Lin Yun, couldn’t be recovered.

Lin Yun, confronted with the financial consequences of her reckless spending, needed someone to blame.

She had exposed Lu Yin and Lin Qianqian’s relationship, the truth of their forbidden love a weapon wielded against Lu Yin, who had just returned from court, seeking comfort, seeking solace in Lin Qianqian’s arms.

Lin Yun had stood at the doorway, her voice raised in accusation, the neighbors gathering, their curious gazes adding to Lu Yin’s humiliation.

She had pointed at Lu Yin, her words venomous, accusing her of being the daughter of a murderer, of taking advantage of her innocent younger sister.

Lu Yin had tried to ignore them, but the crowd blocked her way, their whispers a constant barrage of judgment.

She had looked at Lin Qianqian, a silent plea in her eyes. “Lin Qian, come here,” she had said, her voice barely audible above the din.

If only Lin Qianqian would come to her, hold her.

Her mother was dead, her father in prison. Lin Qianqian was all she had left.

“Lin Qianqian! If you take one step towards her, I’ll kill myself right here!” Lin Yun had screamed.

Lin Qianqian had frozen, her eyes red with unshed tears, wanting to go to Lu Yin, but afraid to disobey her mother.

Lu Yin had waited, her smile fading as Lin Qianqian remained motionless, her silence a betrayal.

Their connection had snapped, the fragile thread of their love severed by the weight of public shame, Lin Qianqian’s fear a gaping chasm between them.

Lu Yin had turned away, gathering her belongings.

Lin Qianqian had known she was leaving, going abroad to study art. Lu Yin had a bright future ahead of her, her talent undeniable, even with the tarnished reputation of her family.

She had a prestigious scholarship, a recommendation letter from a renowned artist.

If she left, she could start over, escape the whispers and accusations.

But a few days before her departure, the news of her relationship with Lin Qianqian had spread through the school, her plans put on hold.

Her advisor had defended her, trying to reason with the school administration.

Lu Yin, unwilling to cause further trouble, had burned the recommendation letter and withdrawn from the program.

Lin Qianqian had seen her again, her right hand bandaged, the hand that had created such beauty now useless.

The pain had been unbearable then, and it was unbearable now.

The hand on her neck tightened, and she gasped for air, her vision blurring, her head lolling against the wall.

“Sister…” she moaned, her voice barely audible, her eyes rolling back in her head.

It had been years since she had felt this way, a terrifying combination of pain and pleasure, a dark, forbidden ecstasy that was pulling her under, consuming her.

The sky turned black, the waves crashing against the shore, the water stained with red.

“Please…” she whispered, her body convulsing, begging Lu Yin to stop, to let her go.

She had tasted the bitter fruit of her own actions, her earlier joy now a distant memory.

Tears and sweat mingled on her face, her hair plastered to her skin.

Her pleas were unanswered, her pain intensifying, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.

Her head hit the wall, her eyes finding the sharp hook, the painting gone.

Had it merged with her, become a part of her? Was this the reason for Lu Yin’s madness?

She couldn’t think, her mind focused on survival.

She choked on her own saliva, unable to cough, her lungs burning.

Her body felt weak and limp, like the painting on the wall, no longer under her control.

She wanted the old Lu Yin back, the gentle, loving sister she knew.

She was afraid of this Lu Yin, this stranger who was trying to destroy her.

If this was her punishment, she would accept it.

Lu Yin had once told her that painting should bring joy, and if it didn’t, then it was time to stop.

Lu Yin had lost her chance to study abroad. Lin Yun had divorced Qin Shaofeng, and the debt from the insurance payout had fallen on Lu Yin, her only remaining family.

As Lu Yin prepared to move, Lin Yun had used the remaining money to send Lin Qianqian abroad, a final act of defiance, a cruel twist of the knife.

Lin Qianqian hadn’t wanted to leave. That night, she had gone to Lu Yin’s room, wanting to confess her feelings, to apologize, but they had argued instead.

Lu Yin had rejected her touch, her kisses, her pleas for intimacy.

Lin Qianqian, already consumed by guilt, had been enraged by Lu Yin’s coldness, her rejection.

She wasn’t a coward! She wasn’t afraid of taking responsibility!

But Lu Yin hadn’t listened, and Lin Qianqian, in her anger and frustration, had lashed out, her words cruel and unforgiving, her tears a torrent of pain and regret.

She had left for the airport the next day, a desperate escape from the wreckage of their relationship.

Her fingers, clawing at Lu Yin’s hand, were bleeding, the pain a burning sensation.

She couldn’t find the words to stop Lu Yin, her tears blurring her vision, her lips, pale and trembling, reaching for Lu Yin’s, a desperate need for connection, for comfort.

As their lips met, Lu Yin’s teeth sank into her lower lip, drawing blood, the taste metallic and sharp.

Lin Qianqian swallowed instinctively, her senses overwhelmed, her mind a blank canvas.

When Lu Yin finally released her, she didn’t even notice, her body slumping against the wet floor, her tears flowing freely, her expression blank.

Lu Yin picked up her shirt and wrapped it around Lin Qianqian.

Lin Qianqian sat there, her head bowed, her hands on the floor, her body trembling, her mind reeling, the burning sensation still lingering.

The air in the loft was thick with the scent of paint and sweat, the aftermath of their struggle.

Lu Yin carried her downstairs and placed her on the bed.

Lin Qianqian’s hair was damp, plastered to her skin, more from sweat than from the water.

She stared at the white ceiling, her body stiff and motionless, her mind slowly returning to the present.

Lu Yin brought her a glass of warm water, testing the temperature before holding it to Lin Qianqian’s lips.

Lin Qianqian drank it obediently, her mind gradually clearing.

Lu Yin retrieved a towel, dampened it with warm water, and gently wiped Lin Qianqian’s face, her touch surprisingly gentle.

Lin Qianqian finally looked at her, her hand gripping Lu Yin’s wrist.

“Does it hurt?” Lu Yin asked, her voice filled with remorse, her gaze lingering on the red marks on Lin Qianqian’s neck.

“No,” Lin Qianqian shook her head, forcing a smile, the movement reopening the wound on her lip. She winced, then licked the blood away, her smile widening.

Lu Yin knew she was lying.

She was always so dramatic, so eager for attention, but now, truly hurt, she was trying to hide her pain.

Lu Yin’s heart ached as she looked at Lin Qianqian’s bruised neck. Her brow furrowed, her gaze darkening. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

She didn’t want to make excuses, even though she had lost control, the lines between reality and fantasy blurring.

She had never done this to Lin Qianqian before, and even unintentionally, she felt a deep sense of guilt.

If only she could control herself.

Lin Qianqian’s eyes filled with tears, the single word, so soft and sincere, breaking through her carefully constructed defenses.

She wiped her eyes, not wanting Lu Yin to see her cry.

“Sister…”

Lu Yin looked at her. “What is it?”

Seeing Lin Qianqian’s vulnerable state, she reached out, her hand gently caressing Lin Qianqian’s face, her fingers stroking her hair.

“I love you, no matter what,” Lin Qianqian said, her hand holding Lu Yin’s, her thumb tracing the lines on Lu Yin’s palm. “I just want you to be okay.”

—Take your medicine, get better, and be with me.

Chapter 43

During Lu Yin’s first follow-up appointment with Zhong Shiwu, Zhong Shiwu had seemed surprised by her progress.

“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…” Zhong Shiwu said, using a cliché she rarely uttered, “I wouldn’t have believed your improvement.”

As a professional, she had to acknowledge that medication often only maintained a patient’s current state, rarely improving it.

True healing required addressing the root cause.

And Lin Qianqian’s presence, in less than six months, had achieved more than four years of therapy.

But it felt like a ticking time bomb, a temporary reprieve.

Lu Yin’s emotions were still fragile, her current stability a delicate balance easily disrupted. A relapse was always possible.

And Zhong Shiwu couldn’t guarantee Lu Yin would be willing to try again.

She couldn’t reveal everything to Lin Qianqian, so she could only hope the girl’s feelings were genuine, not another manipulative game.

“It’s a gamble, isn’t it?” Lu Yin said, a bitter smile on her face.

“What are your odds?” Zhong Shiwu asked.

Lu Yin didn’t answer.

She had no odds. This was her only bet.

And she couldn’t expect Lin Qianqian to cheat for her.

Lin Qianqian was too naive, too trusting.

If she couldn’t overcome her past, she would have to eliminate herself.

For four years, she had been like a beached fish, the ocean within reach, yet she was stranded, barely alive.

If she returned to the ocean, only to find it a dead sea, there would be no point in continuing.

It would be a mercy, a release, for everyone.

She wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Lin Qianqian would eventually forget her, move on. And Zhong Shiwu wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore.

Everyone would be better off.

She knew Lin Qianqian’s curiosity about the cabinet was growing. It was only a matter of time before she discovered the truth.

If she couldn’t control the timing, she would let Lin Qianqian find it on her own.

Lin Qianqian had given herself three chances, and Lu Yin had given Lin Qianqian three chances to find the key.

The first time, she hadn’t bothered to search for Lin Qianqian, simply listening to her footsteps in the living room while she waited in the bathroom.

The security camera footage had shown Lin Qianqian taking the empty pill bottles from her drawer.

The second time, she had placed the cabinet key with the spare keys, hoping Lin Qianqian would find it.

Lin Qianqian had gleefully sent her back to the bathroom, unaware she was playing right into Lu Yin’s hands.

The third time, she had watched Lin Qianqian rush to the loft, unlock the cabinet, and then freeze, her face pale with shock.

She had turned off the monitor and gone upstairs.

The loft was a mess, the easel overturned, paint spilled on the floor. She kicked the debris aside, her hands stained with paint, her gaze fixed on Lin Qianqian.

“Found you,” she had said.

“Lin Qian.”

“You lose.”

Lu Yin had seen the fear in Lin Qianqian’s eyes, the return of the ghost that haunted her dreams.

She no longer spoke to the figure in her dreams, knowing it was a figment of her imagination, a manifestation of her own twisted desires.

The figure had been pulling at Lin Qianqian’s hair, trying to drag her into the cabinet, to trap her, to replace her.

Lu Yin had reached out, her hand outstretched, wanting to pull Lin Qianqian back, to save her.

But Lin Qianqian had flinched away, running from the loft, her escape a desperate flight from the darkness that threatened to consume her.

The painting lay discarded on the floor.

Lu Yin picked it up, her fingers tracing the lines, the colors staining her skin like a tattered garment.

She walked over to the empty wall, the hook a stark reminder of her isolation.

She impaled the painting on the hook, the canvas torn, the frame discarded.

The sharp metal pierced the figure’s heart, the red paint resembling blood.

She should die here, Lu Yin thought.

The painting, her carefully guarded secret for four years, was now ruined.

Desire oozed from the torn edges, a sickening, viscous substance, finally breaking free from its cage.

She couldn’t suppress it any longer.

---

Lin Qianqian scrubbed her face, the skin raw and red, but her reflection in the mirror resembled the figure in the painting more and more.

The mirror, the unwashed paint stains in the sink, were constant reminders of the scene in the loft.

A wave of complex emotions washed over her. It wasn’t regret.

But the horrifying truth, laid bare before her, had exposed her own naiveté, her careless disregard for the potential consequences of her actions.

She hadn’t considered the possibility of uncovering a darkness she had never dared to imagine, a hidden side of Lu Yin she had never seen before.

Lu Yin wasn’t always gentle and kind. She had desires, dark impulses, a hidden self she kept locked away.

And wasn’t that what Lin Qianqian had been searching for?

She clutched her chest, trying to regain her composure.

She wanted to reassure Lu Yin, to tell her, Sister, I love every part of you, even the darkness.

But she couldn’t, her own emotions too raw, too volatile. She couldn’t hide her true self like Lu Yin could.

The bathroom door opened, and she looked up, seeing Lu Yin standing there, her white shirt stained with paint.

Lu Yin didn’t step inside, the threshold a barrier between them.

Outside, the mud and mire of Lu Yin’s hidden desires. Inside, the clear, clean water of Lin Qianqian’s naive affection.

“Are you afraid of me, Lin Qian?” Lu Yin asked, a faint smile playing on her lips, her gaze distant. “Are you afraid of me now?”

Lin Qianqian had accused her of speaking harshly, but now, it was Lin Qianqian who was speechless, her fear silencing her.

For the first time, she didn’t know how to answer Lu Yin’s question.

And Lu Yin rarely asked such loaded questions.

Lin Qianqian shook her head slightly, but as Lu Yin stepped inside, she instinctively took a step back.

This Lu Yin was a stranger.

“You didn’t wash all the paint off,” Lu Yin said, her gaze fixed on Lin Qianqian’s face.

“Where…?” Lin Qianqian touched her cheeks, but felt nothing.

“Here,” Lu Yin tilted her head, pointing at her own neck. “Look in the mirror.”

Lin Qianqian walked over to the sink, her hand scrubbing at her neck, the tears she had been holding back finally overflowing.

She leaned against the sink, wanting to reach out and touch Lu Yin’s sleeve, but the darkness in Lu Yin’s eyes held her back.

“Sister…” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“You can do whatever you want, Lin Qian,” Lu Yin said, her voice soft, offering an escape route. “If you’re afraid, you can leave. Go anywhere you want. Make friends, fall in love, live your life. If you don’t want to work, I’ll give you all my money.”

Lin Qianqian shook her head, seeing the emptiness in Lu Yin’s eyes, the gradual unraveling of her carefully constructed facade.

“Sister…”

Lu Yin looked at her, her gaze shifting from the blurred image on the floor to Lin Qianqian’s face. “Okay?”

She had lost the gamble.

Lin Qianqian rushed forward, her arms wrapping around Lu Yin, her lips brushing against Lu Yin’s cheek. “Is it okay if I kiss you like this…?”

She cupped Lu Yin’s face, kissing her cheeks, her lips, then rising onto her tiptoes to kiss her forehead.

She wanted to bring Lu Yin back, to tell her, I’m not afraid. I’m just sad that you’ve been suffering alone for so long.

Lu Yin had always been so kind, so selfless. Lin Qianqian would do anything for her.

She caressed Lu Yin’s face, her heart aching.

Her sister, Lu Yin, was so foolish.

She knew how to love others, but not herself.

“Sister, it’s me, Lin Qian, your sister,” she said, her voice trembling, taking the pill bottle from her pocket, then realizing it was empty, her own helplessness adding to her despair. “Sister…”

She ran to the living room, pulling open the drawer, searching for the medication, grabbing any bottle that rattled, not caring about the dosage, the different types of pills.

“Which one…?” she asked, holding out the bottles, but Lu Yin’s gaze remained unfocused.

Defeated, she touched Lu Yin’s face again, her lips finding Lu Yin’s in a desperate attempt to connect, to bring her back.

Lu Yin’s eyes focused, and she turned her head away, breaking the kiss. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” Lin Qianqian said firmly, taking Lu Yin’s hand and kissing her palm, her cheek rubbing against Lu Yin’s skin.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” Lu Yin asked, holding her wrist, waiting for an answer.

Lin Qianqian couldn’t explain.

Lu Yin hated her hesitation, her fear, a painful reminder of their past, when Lin Qianqian had abandoned her.

Lin Qianqian kissed her again, a desperate attempt to silence the questions she couldn’t answer.

Lu Yin grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door.

Lin Qianqian panicked, the memories of their last encounter flooding back. “Sister, don’t send me away! I won’t leave!” she pleaded.

But Lu Yin didn’t respond, pulling her towards the stairs, towards the loft. Lin Qianqian stopped struggling, realizing where they were going.

Lu Yin’s pace was quick, and Lin Qianqian struggled to keep up.

The painting, impaled on the hook, its canvas torn, made her heart ache.

Lu Yin’s hand cupped the back of her head, her lips finding Lin Qianqian’s, a rough, demanding kiss. Lin Qianqian stumbled backwards, her head hitting the wall.

She could feel her hair brushing against the painting.

“Sister…”

“Don’t talk,” Lu Yin said, silencing her.

Her mind cleared, the last vestiges of her dream-like state dispelled by the urgency of the moment. Lin Qianqian’s presence, her touch, was the best medicine, but Lu Yin didn’t want to take advantage of her, not like this.

The atmosphere was charged, the air thick with unspoken emotions, but it wasn’t the right time, not the right place.

“Why not?” Lin Qianqian asked, her eyes still open, Lu Yin’s well-being more important than her own desires. “Are you okay?”

Lu Yin bit her lip, a sharp pang of pain making Lin Qianqian wince.

Lu Yin’s lips, growing warmer, traced her jawline, her tongue licking the sweat from her skin.

They held each other close, Lin Qianqian’s hand reaching for the buttons of Lu Yin’s shirt, unbuttoning it slowly.

Her skin brushed against the cold wall, and she looked towards the window, the outside world a blur of darkness.

She touched the glass, the cool surface fogged with condensation, her reflection distorted.

Her bare feet, stepping on the discarded clothes, finally found some warmth against the soft fabric.

Lu Yin’s gaze, intense and unwavering, met Lin Qianqian’s, her face flushed, her eyes half-closed, like a butterfly caught in the rain-soaked grass.

The kiss deepened, their tongues tangling, the lingering taste turning sour.

Their eyes, reflecting each other, revealed their true selves, their hidden desires.

Lu Yin heard a soft gasp and frowned, seeing the painting, its colors smudged by their bodies, the paint still wet.

She pulled away, her last shred of reason forcing her to stop, and removed the painting from the hook, crumpling it in her hand.

The sudden separation, the cool air against her skin, made Lin Qianqian shiver. She hugged herself, her eyes still hazy from the kiss. “Sister…what’s wrong?”

“Enough,” Lu Yin said, her voice cold. “We’ve gone too far.”

The hallucinations, the dreams, were still there, blurring the lines between reality and fantasy.

She couldn’t continue. She might lose control.

If she wasn’t careful, she would treat Lin Qianqian the way she had treated the figure in her dreams, the ghost that haunted her.

Lin Qianqian would die here.

Lin Qianqian kicked the discarded clothes aside, taking Lu Yin’s hand, her voice a soft plea. “Sister, let’s do it,” she whispered, biting her lip.

Chapter 42

Lying in Lu Yin’s arms, Lin Qianqian felt a sense of peace she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Lu Yin had forgiven her transgression, her trespass into the forbidden territory of Lu Yin’s room, her childish demands. It felt like the past, when she could say anything, do anything, and Lu Yin wouldn’t be angry.

She inhaled the familiar scent of Lu Yin’s shampoo. It hadn’t changed.

Lu Yin didn’t like change. She always used the same brand of paint, the same brushes, everything in its designated place.

Even if Lin Qianqian, in her forgetfulness, misplaced something in the bathroom, it would always reappear in its original spot.

“Sister, do you have OCD?” she asked suddenly.

Lu Yin, drifting off to sleep, was startled awake.

She looked down at Lin Qianqian, her wide, innocent eyes staring back at her, seemingly unaware of the interruption.

Lu Yin pulled Lin Qianqian’s head closer, her hand covering Lin Qianqian’s face, silencing her.

“Hey…” Lin Qianqian mumbled, her voice muffled, spitting out a few strands of hair. “Where are we going for Christmas? I don’t know any good places. Most malls are already decorated for New Year’s, right?”

“There should be some stalls at the night market. I’ll ask my colleagues. I doubt you’ve been there before.”

“I need to think about what to buy. I need something new. I buy the same things every year. It’s boring,” Lin Qianqian muttered, then looked up at Lu Yin, kissing her softly.

Lu Yin opened her eyes, her gaze fixed on Lin Qianqian.

Lin Qianqian giggled and kissed her again.

“Sister, do you want to buy…”

Lu Yin silenced her with another kiss.

She couldn’t reason with Lin Qianqian, whose mouth never stopped moving, her words a constant stream of chatter, her thoughts flitting from one topic to the next.

Only a kiss could silence her.

Lu Yin’s tongue traced Lin Qianqian’s lips, the light touch sending shivers down her spine.

Lin Qianqian’s foot instinctively kicked Lu Yin’s leg, her toes playfully scratching her skin, her hand moving to Lu Yin’s waist, her leg rubbing against Lu Yin’s.

As they parted, Lu Yin recognized Lin Qianqian’s familiar gestures.

Lin Qianqian wasn’t afraid of kissing anymore.

She knew Lin Qianqian wanted more, her subtle movements a silent plea for intimacy.

Lu Yin wiped Lin Qianqian’s lips, watching her, her earlier energy dissipated, her eyes half-closed, and closed her own eyes again.

“Sister…” Lin Qianqian whispered, her voice soft and clingy. “Sister…”

“Be quiet,” Lu Yin said.

“You’re so mean!” Lin Qianqian complained. “This isn’t the first time you’ve done this!”

“If you want a next time, then go to sleep.”

Lin Qianqian, defeated, snuggled closer, her head resting on Lu Yin’s chest. “Fine…” she mumbled. “But it’s so soft…like a pillow…”

“When’s our next kiss…?” she asked, unable to sleep now. “Can you give me some warning next time? And make it last longer…I haven’t had enough…”

“I’ll give you some warning next time.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Lu Yin ended the conversation, and Lin Qianqian, finally satisfied, drifted off to sleep.

Lu Yin woke up in the middle of the night, a strange dream lingering, a giant insect crawling on her, its hot breath against her face.

In the darkness, she recognized Lin Qianqian’s face, her body pressed against Lu Yin’s, seemingly unaware that Lu Yin was awake.

“Lin Qian?”

“Hmm…?” Lin Qianqian’s eyes fluttered open, and she quickly moved away. “When did you wake up?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Lin Qianqian didn’t want to admit that the brief kiss had awakened her, and she hadn’t been able to fall back asleep.

“Don’t scare me like that! I’ll…I’ll have nightmares if I try that again…”

“There’s going to be a next time?”

“For kissing, yes. But for this…why not?” Lin Qianqian said, not seeing the problem. “You wouldn’t help me, so I had to take care of it myself.”

Was “take care of it myself” the appropriate phrase in this context?

Lu Yin touched her hip, her fingers damp.

“I’ll wipe it for you…” Lin Qianqian said, crawling back towards her, her hand resting on Lu Yin’s stomach.

Lu Yin moved her hand away, and Lin Qianqian, sensing her displeasure, quickly lay back down, facing the wall. “I’m sleepy. Don’t bother me.”

Lu Yin glanced at the time. Her class started at eight, and it was almost six.

She got out of bed and went to the bathroom.

Lin Qianqian turned to look at her. “Hurry up and go back to sleep,” Lu Yin said, without turning around. “Set an alarm. I don’t have time to drive you to work today.”

After a sleepless night, Lin Qianqian wasn’t expecting to be productive at work.

She didn’t care about her own salary, but she couldn’t jeopardize the company’s success.

She messaged HR, calling in sick, and fell back asleep.

She woke up in the afternoon, ordered takeout, and then resumed her quest for the cabinet key.

She had lied about losing her keys before, and when Lu Yin had offered to take her to the property management office, she had mumbled something about finding them, easily dismissing the issue.

She had searched the entire apartment, every drawer, every box, even the toilet paper holder, but the key remained elusive.

She couldn’t even find a spare.

She needed to talk to Lu Yin.

She couldn’t wait until Christmas. She wanted to spend Christmas Day with Lu Yin, not playing hide-and-seek.

But she needed an excuse, and Christmas Eve was the perfect opportunity.

For days, she had been calling and messaging Lu Yin during work hours, finally persuading her to clear her schedule for the following week.

She couldn’t confront Lu Yin directly at the institution, not with Yu Miao there, so she had to resort to more subtle tactics.

She had already finished her work and requested time off for the New Year’s holiday.

Lu Yin agreed to give her Christmas Eve off. At lunchtime, they sat facing each other, and Lin Qianqian, studying Lu Yin’s expression, began to implement her plan.

“Sister, where are we going tomorrow?”

“Wherever you want,” Lu Yin said, eating her lunch.

“I’ve already made plans,” Lin Qianqian said confidently, showing her a list on her phone. “I asked all the experts at the office for recommendations. We’re going to have an amazing Christmas.”

Lu Yin nodded, letting her take charge.

“How about a game of hide-and-seek tonight?” Lin Qianqian asked.

“Sure,” Lu Yin said, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

Lin Qianqian, seeing her casual indifference, felt a flicker of annoyance. “I’m being serious! These are our Christmas plans!”

“Go ahead,” Lu Yin said, looking at her. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Then let’s play our traditional game tonight,” Lin Qianqian said, then added, “By the way, I have to go to the office in a few days. I left my keys and my portable charger there. Where’s the spare key? I’ll need it for a few days.”

Lu Yin yawned. “It’s in a small box under the shoe cabinet in the entryway.”

“Then you should take a nap. I’ll wash the dishes when I’m done.”

Lu Yin nodded and went to her room.

Lin Qianqian waited a few minutes, then checked the box under the shoe cabinet. It contained several spare keys, but not the one for the loft cabinet.

If Lu Yin was home, the key must be on her or in her room. She would have to find it tonight.

She washed the dishes and went to her room, her nap restless and unsatisfying, her mind racing, planning her strategy.

She had one minute to find the key, unlock the cabinet, examine its contents, and then restore everything to its original position.

If one minute wasn’t enough, she would try again, and again. She was a master of manipulation.

She drifted off to sleep, then woke up to the sound of Lu Yin moving around in the living room.

She saw Lu Yin’s laptop on the coffee table. “More work?”

“Just a few things. I’ll finish them tonight,” Lu Yin said, looking at her. “So, finish your game early.”

Work always came first for Lu Yin, but she was willing to indulge Lin Qianqian’s childish games.

“Then let’s play now!” Lin Qianqian pulled her off the sofa. “One minute to hide, one minute to seek. The seeker has to stay in the bathroom for one minute, and the hider can hide anywhere in the apartment.”

“Okay.”

“Anywhere, okay?” Lin Qianqian pressed, then, seeing Lu Yin’s indifferent shrug, declared, “I’ll hide first.”

“Fine,” Lu Yin said, opening the timer app on her phone.

“Three, two, one,” Lin Qianqian counted down, and Lu Yin went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Lin Qianqian searched the living room frantically.

No key in Lu Yin’s jacket pockets.

No key or notebook on Lu Yin’s desk.

No key in the coffee table drawers…

But there were a few small pill bottles.

She picked them up, glanced at them, and put them in her pocket.

The timer showed ten seconds left. She rushed into Lu Yin’s room and hid in the closet.

She could hear Lu Yin’s footsteps in the living room. She took the pill bottles out of her pocket.

The light from her phone illuminated the labels. “Chlorpromazine…?”

She looked it up. Used to control excitement, agitation, and anxiety in patients with schizophrenia or other psychotic disorders, especially those with apathy, withdrawal, catatonia, depression, hallucinations, paranoia, and delusions.

“What is this…?” she muttered, confused.

She remembered seeing other medications in the drawer, but she had been focused on finding the key. She pocketed one of the empty bottles.

The timer went off. Lin Qianqian emerged from the closet, hands on her hips. “Sister, you didn’t find me. Your turn to hide.”

Lu Yin looked at her, then nodded, returning to the bathroom.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Lin Qianqian said, setting the timer and checking the loft first. The cabinet was still locked.

She went back downstairs, wondering where Lu Yin usually kept her keys.

She had checked the spare key box under the shoe cabinet earlier.

Running out of time, she decided to try her luck.

The small box was still there, pushed further back into the corner.

She opened it. A new key, and the one for the loft cabinet.

So…

Even Lu Yin made mistakes. She must have forgotten about the spare key.

But why go through all this trouble? Moving the key back and forth. Did she rarely use it?

Lin Qianqian took the key, not bothering to put it back.

The timer went off. Lu Yin emerged from the bathroom and found her almost immediately.

Lin Qianqian held up her hand. “Wait! I’m hiding again.”

Lu Yin tilted her head, waiting for her to make up a new rule.

“Best two out of three. That’s how we played it abroad,” Lin Qianqian said, pushing Lu Yin towards the bathroom. “Last round!”

This was her chance.

The third round began.

Lin Qianqian rushed to the loft, tripping over a box and knocking over an easel, the paintbox shattering on the floor, the paints mixing into a sticky mess.

But she didn’t care. She inserted the key into the lock.

As the lock clicked open, she grinned, her curiosity about to be satisfied.

But the sight that greeted her made her blood run cold.

Her smile vanished. She stared at the painting, her own face staring back at her, naked and vulnerable.

She covered her mouth, stifling a scream.

She grabbed the painting, clutching it to her chest, and sat down on the floor, leaning against the open cabinet door, gasping for air.

It was Lu Yin’s work. She recognized it instantly.

She had spent countless hours watching Lu Yin paint, and there was no mistaking her style, even though she didn’t understand art.

But the sight of her own naked body on the canvas, painted by Lu Yin, filled her with a terror that brought tears to her eyes.

The date in the corner indicated it had been painted four years ago.

She remembered the medication she had taken from Lu Yin’s drawer, the online description of its uses, and suddenly understood Lu Yin’s transformation.

The gossip, the accusations, her own cowardice…they had driven Lu Yin to this.

She shouldn’t have left, not even after Lu Yin’s harsh words, her rejection.

She had abandoned Lu Yin, leaving her to suffer alone, her pain masked by medication, her life a hollow shell.

What friend, what psychiatrist? Lu Yin was a patient, a madwoman.

Only a madwoman would keep a painting of her naked sister, hidden away, her outward disgust a mask for her twisted desires.

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the sweat on her forehead.

She felt hot and cold at the same time, unable to look at the painting in her hands.

She heard footsteps on the stairs, slow and deliberate, like a death knell.

She had forgotten about the timer.

The minute was up.

Lu Yin was coming.

She frantically shoved the painting back into the cabinet, ignoring the sound of tearing canvas, her hands fumbling with the lock.

But her panic made her clumsy, the key refusing to turn, her hands shaking, the metal digging into her skin.

Suddenly, she was pulled away from the cabinet, a strong hand gripping her arm.

Lu Yin’s face appeared before her.

Lu Yin wiped away her tears, her hand smudged with paint, staining Lin Qianqian’s already flushed cheeks.

“Found you,” she said, her voice soft.

“Lin Qian.”

Lu Yin smiled.

“You lose.”

Lin Qianqian couldn’t see any light in Lu Yin’s eyes, her shadow falling over Lin Qianqian, the darkness consuming her.

“Sister…” Lin Qianqian whispered, trying to steady her breathing, willing Lu Yin’s eyes to brighten, to reflect some semblance of life, not this empty darkness.

But Lu Yin didn’t respond, so she tried again.

“Sister…”

She tried to appeal to Lu Yin’s conscience, their shared humanity, their sisterhood.

Sisters didn’t do this. They didn’t harbor secret desires, didn’t paint each other naked.

But Lu Yin just stared at her, silent and unmoving.

The silence broke Lin Qianqian. “Sister…”

She sobbed, her voice filled with fear and confusion. “What’s wrong with you…?”

She screamed, her voice rising in a desperate plea. “Sister…”

The painting was back in the cabinet, the lock discarded on the floor.

The cabinet door hung open.

Lu Yin stared at her, two Lin Qianqians superimposed, their images merging, becoming one.

She reached out, her hand hovering over Lin Qianqian’s face, as if trying to distinguish between the real Lin Qianqian and the figment of her imagination, the ghost that haunted her dreams.

Lin Qianqian flinched at her cold touch, scrambling away, her body rolling across the spilled paint, staining her clothes.

She ran downstairs, her heart pounding, and locked herself in the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face.

She unclenched her hand, the object she had been clutching now damp with sweat, the words still legible.

—Je suis contrôlé par la conscience.

I am controlled by desire.

Chapter 41

People always found ways to entertain themselves.

Lin Qianqian’s favorite pastime was teasing Lu Yin, even inventing secrets where there were none, just to have an excuse to bother her.

Like now, as she sat on the sofa, watching Lu Yin come home from work, hanging her bag and jacket on the coat rack.

“Why are you staring at me?” Lu Yin asked, noticing her cold tea on the coffee table.

“Dr. Zhong came by this evening,” Lin Qianqian said. “She was asking about Ming Yao.”

Lu Yin paused, then nodded. “Did she say anything else?”

“No,” Lin Qianqian said, feigning innocence. “I thought you knew. Where were you today, anyway?”

“Organizing some things. I told you,” Lu Yin said.

“What kind of organizing takes all day?” Lin Qianqian asked, walking over to Lu Yin. “Are you hiding something from me?”

She leaned closer, sniffing Lu Yin’s clothes. “Let me check for other women’s perfume.”

Lu Yin poked her forehead, pushing her away gently.

Lin Qianqian caught Lu Yin’s finger, holding it in her hand, then leaned in again, hugging Lu Yin and kissing her cheek.

“Sister, can you leave your keys with me tomorrow?” she asked, her gaze searching Lu Yin’s face. “I lost mine, and I want to get a new one made.”

“You lost your keys?” Lu Yin frowned. “It’s not too late. We can go to the property management office now.”

Lin Qianqian shook her head. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Will you be home from work at the usual time tomorrow night?”

“I’m not sure,” Lu Yin said, Lin Qianqian’s embrace making it difficult to move, but she saw no intention of Lin Qianqian letting go. They were practically attached at the hip.

Lu Yin washed and dried the teacup, put it away, then opened her laptop. As she was about to go to the loft, she asked, “Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” Lin Qianqian said, following her up the stairs, her shorter legs struggling to keep up. “What are you working on?”

“Just some miscellaneous tasks. I’ll do them now so I have more free time later,” Lu Yin said, setting her laptop down and looking at Lin Qianqian. “You should go to bed early.”

“Make some room for me. I have work to do too.”

The New Year’s projects had been assigned, and she wanted to finish them early so she could take some time off.

Her boss was lenient, prioritizing quality over quantity, allowing employees to take time off if they finished their work ahead of schedule.

Lu Yin was free now, and Lin Qianqian wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.

Finishing her work before Christmas would be ideal.

The table in the loft was small, and they sat on the floor, their laptops almost touching.

Lin Qianqian opened Photoshop, copying files from her USB drive.

She glanced at Lu Yin, who was focused on her work, seemingly oblivious to Lin Qianqian’s presence.

“Is it a bit cramped?” Lin Qianqian asked.

“Not really,” Lu Yin replied, her attention unwavering.

Lin Qianqian typed for a few minutes, then lost interest.

She looked towards the cabinet, wondering how to get the key from Lu Yin.

Lu Yin glanced at her. “Not very focused on your work, are you?”

Lin Qianqian turned back to her laptop. “I’m taking a break.”

“You must have been caught slacking off before.”

“No one cares at my company,” Lin Qianqian said, grinning, then picked up her phone. “Do you want some milk tea, Sister? Buy one, get one half off.”

Lu Yin didn’t reply.

“Fine, I’ll have both,” Lin Qianqian said, browsing the menu. “How much longer will you be working?”

“Almost done. Half an hour, maybe.”

Silence fell over the loft again, punctuated by the sound of rain against the window. Lin Qianqian crawled over to the window.

“It’s raining hard,” she muttered. “The weather hasn’t been great lately.”

The rain would delay her milk tea delivery. She stared out the window, watching the raindrops stream down the glass, her mind wandering.

When Lu Yin finally closed her laptop, Lin Qianqian looked up.

“Are you finished?” she asked. Lu Yin nodded. “Can I leave my laptop here? I don’t want to carry it downstairs.”

Once Lu Yin left, she could explore the loft freely.

“Sure,” Lu Yin said. “Go to bed early when you’re done.”

Lin Qianqian watched her go downstairs, pack her laptop, retrieve her pajamas from her bedroom, and head to the bathroom.

She quickly returned to the cabinet, retrieved a toothpick from her pocket, knelt down, and inserted it into the lock.

She turned it carefully, afraid of breaking it.

The lock was small, the toothpick fragile.

The lock wouldn’t budge, and her fingertip turned red from pressing against the toothpick.

Lin Qianqian leaned against the cabinet, her legs sprawled out, defeated.

She didn’t understand her obsession with this cabinet. She had already seen what was inside.

But locked things held a strange allure, a mysterious appeal she couldn’t resist.

After a few minutes, she tried again, the toothpick still stubbornly refusing to cooperate.

She was tempted to find a hammer and smash the lock.

As she struggled with the lock, she heard footsteps behind her and quickly turned around.

Instead of Lu Yin’s disapproving gaze, she heard a faint cracking sound.

The toothpick…

Had broken inside the lock.

“Your milk tea arrived,” Lu Yin said, her hair still damp, a towel draped over her arm.

Lin Qianqian placed the milk tea on the floor, her body shielding the lock.

She hadn’t been checking the delivery app, assuming the rain would delay it.

“Do you want to dry your hair?” she asked, trying to change the subject. “It’s dripping.”

Lu Yin dried her hair with the towel, her gaze fixed on Lin Qianqian.

“Let me see,” she said.

“See what?”

Lu Yin knelt down. “The lock.”

“What lock?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Lu Yin frowned. “If you don’t remove the toothpick now, what will you do when you need something from the cabinet?”

Lin Qianqian shifted slightly, watching Lu Yin retrieve a thin piece of wire and expertly remove the broken toothpick from the lock.

Lin Qianqian, afraid of angering Lu Yin further, didn’t know what to say, silently observing Lu Yin’s expression.

She took the towel from Lu Yin’s arm. “Sister, let me dry your hair,” she offered, kneeling down and looking up at Lu Yin, her expression a mixture of guilt and apprehension.

Lu Yin’s silence was enough to make her panic.

The last time she had been scolded was after the company dinner, the bucket of ice water a sobering experience she didn’t want to repeat.

“I just wanted to see what was inside. I wasn’t trying to do anything bad,” she confessed.

Lu Yin took the towel and went downstairs.

“Sister…” Lin Qianqian followed, watching Lu Yin enter her room and close the door.

She knocked on the door, hearing the whirring of the hairdryer.

Feeling dejected, she returned to the loft, her milk tea forgotten, her work abandoned.

She waited for Lu Yin, her mind racing.

The more she worried, the more convinced she became that the cabinet contained something Lu Yin didn’t want her to see.

She knew she shouldn’t pry, but she couldn’t help herself.

After fifteen minutes, she pressed her ear against Lu Yin’s door. The hairdryer was off.

The door suddenly opened, and she stumbled forward, falling into the room.

Lu Yin caught her, and Lin Qianqian offered an awkward smile.

She watched Lu Yin go to the living room, pour herself a glass of hot water, and sit down on the sofa.

“Sister,” she called out.

“What?”

Hearing Lu Yin’s response, she grinned and sat down beside her.

“So, about that…” she said, wrapping her arms around Lu Yin’s neck, then trailing off as she noticed the notebook in Lu Yin’s hand.

She recognized it as the same one that had contained the key, the pages filled with lists of art supplies.

She flipped through it. No key.

“Sister, let’s play a game.”

“What kind of game?” Lu Yin asked, picking up a pen and making notes in the notebook.

“When I was abroad, my friends and I would play a game called Cat and Mouse during Christmas. Everyone would turn on their location sharing, and one person would be the cat, chasing everyone else, the mice, using their phones to track them.”

Lu Yin checked a few numbers in the notebook, then continued writing.

“But since it’s just the two of us, we can play hide-and-seek instead,” Lin Qianqian continued, undeterred. “To make things easier, we can play inside the apartment. How about it?”

“Why do you suddenly want to play hide-and-seek?” Lu Yin asked, looking at her.

Lin Qianqian quickly looked away. “It’s a Christmas tradition. Since I’m back, you have to play with me.”

She glanced at the calendar. “Christmas is less than a week away. Let’s finish our work early and celebrate together, okay?”

Lu Yin paused, her pen hovering over the notebook.

She heard Lin Qianqian’s words, but her mind twisted them into something else entirely.

—Sister, show me your true self. You only have a week left.

“Please?” Lin Qianqian tugged at Lu Yin’s arm. “It’ll be boring otherwise. I’m buying reindeer antlers this year. You’re paying.”

“Okay,” Lu Yin said, snapping out of her thoughts.

She checked her notes, noticing a few errors.

She sighed and turned to a new page.

“You agreed to that, but what about the other thing?” Lin Qianqian pressed, not satisfied with a single victory. “Hide-and-seek! Are we playing or not?”

“Fine,” Lu Yin said, giving in, unable to concentrate with Lin Qianqian’s constant interruptions. Lin Qianqian rewarded her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Sister, you’re the best! I love you!” Lin Qianqian said, humming happily.

Lu Yin wasn’t angry about the toothpick incident, agreeing to all her requests. Lin Qianqian felt a surge of relief.

If brute force didn’t work, she would resort to cunning.

She had less than a week to find the key and practice unlocking the cabinet while Lu Yin was distracted.

Lu Yin might be in control now, but she couldn’t stop Lin Qianqian’s scheming.

This time, she would be the dominant one. Little Lu Yin would be putty in her hands.

Lin Qianqian giggled at the thought.

“Go to bed,” Lu Yin said, pointing at the clock.

“I’m going, Sister,” Lin Qianqian whispered in her ear. “I’ll be waiting for you in your bed, naked. Hurry up!”