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.
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