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.”
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