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.
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