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!
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