Immature Confession Day gl 54

Chapter 54 

On Saturday afternoon, Lin Qianqian met Ming Yao again.

Ming Yao’s attire was similar to their last meeting, and they sat facing each other in silence, neither initiating conversation.

Ming Yao didn’t know why she had agreed to meet, only that Zhong Shiwu had told her to spend her day off with her friend.

She was now accustomed to obeying Zhong Shiwu’s instructions, her own thoughts and desires irrelevant.

“Ming Yao?” Lin Qianqian asked, concerned by her friend’s continued quietness.

Ming Yao’s mind was blank. Hearing her name, she looked up, her expression unfocused.

“Do you…see your stepmother often?” Lin Qianqian asked tentatively.

“Almost every day.”

“Oh,” Lin Qianqian hadn’t expected that. “Is she…good to you?”

“She’s good to me.”

The same answer as before.

“Didn’t you say your sister was coming back before the New Year?” Lin Qianqian asked, remembering their previous conversation.

“In a few days. She contacted me. We might be moving,” Ming Yao said, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall the details. “My relationship with my mother…”

The divorce had been finalized. Living with Zhong Shiwu seemed illogical now, as if she had been deliberately placed there, her actions controlled by an unseen force.

“Ming Yao?”

“Let’s eat,” Ming Yao said, her mind unable to process these thoughts, the effort too exhausting.

She knew she would be meeting Ming Yi soon, leaving Zhong Shiwu’s house, but the sense of urgency, the desperate need to escape, had faded.

And it had only been a few months since she had moved in with Zhong Shiwu.

She couldn’t let Ming Yi see how much she had changed. Zhong Shiwu had been teaching her how to use Western cutlery again.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know how, she just didn’t want to. Old habits died hard.

She held the knife and fork, slowly cutting the food on her plate, her brow furrowed, the taste seemingly irrelevant.

“Qianqian, what if…I mean, what would you think if…I slept with her?”

“Who?” Lin Qianqian asked, startled, the knife in her hand flashing.

Lin Qianqian knew it wasn’t a hypothetical question. “Isn’t she your…”

“No,” Lin Qianqian corrected herself. “She’s not legally your mother anymore.”

“Would you think it’s…incest?”

Lin Qianqian cringed at the word, the thought of it bringing back uncomfortable memories of her own relationship with Lu Yin, not the happy, carefree moments they had shared, but the painful aftermath of their separation, the accusations and judgment.

“I initiated it. I was the one who climbed into her bed,” Ming Yao said.

And she no longer wanted to leave, even though she knew Zhong Shiwu was controlling her, manipulating her, her every action dictated by an unseen force.

Her old habits, her old self, were resurfacing, and she was forced to confront the reality of her situation, the strange, undefined relationship she had with Zhong Shiwu.

Only by obeying Zhong Shiwu could she silence the questions, the doubts, the growing unease.

“Ming Yao, don’t think about it. Just wait for your sister to come back, then move out. We’ll hang out every day. I’ll show you around. I’ve been working here for months. I know all the best places,” Lin Qianqian said, trying to reassure her.

“Okay…” Ming Yao said, a flicker of hope in her eyes.

If she wanted to escape Zhong Shiwu’s control, she had to remember her old life, her old self, the joy and freedom she had once taken for granted.

“Qianqian, I have to go home soon,” Ming Yao said, glancing at the time.

“It’s fine. We used to stay out all night at bars,” Lin Qianqian said.

“That’s what my schedule says,” Ming Yao said, her actions dictated by the routine Zhong Shiwu had imposed on her. “The rules…the rules say I have to go home now.”

“You used to say rules were meant to be broken,” Lin Qianqian said, remembering their rebellious escapades, sneaking out of school to go to bars, deliberately choosing the areas with the most security guards.

“Did I?” Ming Yao asked, her mind a blank, her thoughts echoing Zhong Shiwu’s words: Be good. Obey.

“Why are you like this, Ming Yao?” Lin Qianqian asked, wanting to help her friend, but unsure how.

Ming Yao seemed possessed, her personality replaced by something hollow, something empty.

“Isn’t it good to be obedient? You get praise, hugs, comfort, kisses, and pleasure.”

At first, she had resisted the schedule, and Zhong Shiwu hadn’t punished her, simply repeating the same instructions the next day.

The turning point had been the first time she obeyed. Zhong Shiwu had praised her.

She had bathed her, like a mother tending to her child, washing away the sweat from her morning run, drying her hair, her body, reading her a bedtime story.

Zhong Shiwu had called it a reward for her obedience. Ming Yao hadn’t understood, but she had liked it, the feeling of being cared for, of being loved.

After a week of obedience, she had wanted more, more than just cuddles at night. She had wanted a goodnight kiss, a sign of affection.

Like in the stories, where mothers showered their daughters with love and affection, their bedtime rituals ending with a kiss.

Zhong Shiwu hadn’t given her that, and Ming Yao, always one for dramatic gestures, had decided to take matters into her own hands.

She had climbed into Zhong Shiwu’s bed, naked, and then realized, too late, that she had made a terrible mistake.

Her idealized mother figure had used her own vulnerability against her, her touch no longer comforting, but invasive, her kisses a violation, not an expression of love.

And after that, there had been no escape.

Zhong Shiwu’s gentle kindness had vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating control, and Ming Yao, lost and confused, had simply obeyed, her every action dictated by the schedule, her own desires irrelevant.

Even when, in a fit of frustration, she had torn up the schedule, she had rewritten it the next day, her actions automatic, her mind numb.

She would watch Zhong Shiwu making notes in a notebook after her morning runs, the meaning of the entries unknown, only the promise of a reward, of a fleeting moment of pleasure, keeping her going.

That evening, Ming Yao returned home early, as always.

“I’m back,” she said, taking off her shoes and coat, seeing Zhong Shiwu on the sofa. “I’m three hours early.”

She forced a smile. Last time she had come home early, Zhong Shiwu had praised her.

This time, she was even earlier. Perhaps the reward would be even greater.

Zhong Shiwu glanced at her, her mind already planning Ming Yao’s departure.

To break a programmed person, you had to disrupt their programming.

Punish them when they expected a reward, reward them when they expected punishment.

And now, Ming Yao clearly expected a reward.

Zhong Shiwu had the data she needed. She didn’t care about the consequences for Ming Yao.

Helping her recover would take too long, perhaps forever.

But disrupting her programming, breaking her conditioning, might yield a different result.

And Zhong Shiwu was short on time.

She stood up and walked towards her room, but Ming Yao grabbed her arm.

In Ming Yao’s programmed mind, obedience equaled reward, but Zhong Shiwu didn’t offer any.

This was wrong. Ming Yao’s eyes pleaded with her, but Zhong Shiwu brushed her hand away.

“Mom…” Ming Yao whispered, her voice filled with a desperate longing, taking Zhong Shiwu’s hand again and giving it a gentle tug.

“Let go,” Zhong Shiwu said coldly.

“No…” Ming Yao stood up, seemingly oblivious to Zhong Shiwu’s displeasure, leaning against her, her head nuzzling Zhong Shiwu’s shoulder, seeking affection.

It was her right, not a privilege to be granted or withheld.

Zhong Shiwu pushed her away and started up the stairs. When Ming Yao grabbed her arm again, she stopped, her hand striking Ming Yao’s face, the sound sharp and loud.

Ming Yao’s hand flew to her cheek, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Why…?” she whispered, her voice choked with pain. “You can’t…you’re not supposed to do this…”

“Ming Yao, I’m not responsible for you anymore,” Zhong Shiwu said, her voice cold and distant, then, correcting herself, added, “Or rather, I never was. I’m not your mother. I’m just a business partner, nothing more.”

“Mom…” Ming Yao whispered, shaking her head, wanting Zhong Shiwu to stop, to take back her words, but she couldn’t bring herself to disobey.

Zhong Shiwu was her mother. She had to obey.

“Think clearly. If you continue like this, I’ll ask Ming Yi to take you away.”

“No!” Ming Yao cried, grabbing Zhong Shiwu’s arm, her fear overriding the pain in her cheek.

Zhong Shiwu went to her room, closing the door behind her. Ming Yao, knowing she wouldn’t get her reward, followed, her heart pounding with a mixture of confusion and despair.

Why did this hurt so much? Why was she so desperate for Zhong Shiwu’s approval, her affection?

She stood outside the door, watching Zhong Shiwu pace back and forth.

“Aren’t you going to bed?” Zhong Shiwu asked, glancing at her coldly, unbuttoning her shirt.

“No…no…” Ming Yao stared at her hands, her gaze fixated on the movements.

As Zhong Shiwu removed her shirt, Ming Yao rushed forward, her arms wrapping around Zhong Shiwu, her lips finding the soft skin of her neck, her shoulders, her chest.

Zhong Shiwu pushed her away, her hand connecting with Ming Yao’s back, sending her crashing against the wall, her head spinning.

Tears blurred her vision. She just wanted her reward. Zhong Shiwu had promised. They had been doing this for months. Why stop now?

“Ming Yao, you’re sick,” Zhong Shiwu said.

Ming Yao reached out, her fingers tracing the strap of Zhong Shiwu’s slip.

“This is something lovers do, not mothers and daughters. It’s not a reward. It’s not something I owe you,” Zhong Shiwu said, her gaze meeting Ming Yao’s tear-filled eyes. “Now, go to bed. This is your last warning.”

Ming Yao, her mind a jumble of confused emotions, pulled at the strap, the thin fabric stretching, snapping against Zhong Shiwu’s skin.

Zhong Shiwu slapped her, the sound sharp and loud, trying to bring her back to reality.

Ming Yao sank to the floor, her hand covering her cheek, the pain a welcome distraction from the turmoil within.

She slowly stood up, reaching for Zhong Shiwu’s leg, but Zhong Shiwu kicked her away.

“Mom…” she whispered, her body slumping against the wall, her mind a blank slate, her actions driven by instinct, by the ingrained need for reward, for approval.

Zhong Shiwu was wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

She crawled towards Zhong Shiwu, ignoring the pain that shot through her body.

Zhong Shiwu stepped on her, her gaze cold and calculating, her voice a threat. “You better behave until Ming Yi comes back. Otherwise, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“Why…like this…?” Ming Yao whispered, her eyes closed. “I…I was good…”

Zhong Shiwu walked away, tossing a blanket at her.

She lay on the bed, her back to Ming Yao, her own conscience a nagging presence.

Perhaps she had been a doctor for too long. Her compassion, her empathy, were getting in the way.

She didn’t like being kind. It always backfired.

Later that night, she woke up to Ming Yao’s touch, her hand licking her palm.

She pushed her away. “Ming Yao, who am I to you?”

Ming Yao knelt on the bed. “Mom…”

“Is this something mothers and daughters should do?”

“No…not allowed?” Ming Yao frowned. “But Mom…you’re divorced now, aren’t you?”

She crawled towards Zhong Shiwu, seeking her touch, her approval.

She took Zhong Shiwu’s hand and pressed it against her cheek. “Mom…you hurt me today…it hurt so much…”

Zhong Shiwu’s fingers slid into Ming Yao’s mouth, pulling at her cheek. “Ming Yao, don’t do things that displease me.”

“Now, go back to your room,” she said, her voice a low growl. “I don’t want to repeat myself.”

Ming Yao hesitated, then lunged forward, trying to straddle Zhong Shiwu.

Zhong Shiwu pinned her down, her hand tightening around Ming Yao’s throat, her knee pressing against her stomach, making her gag.

“You want a reward, don’t you?” she snarled, ripping at Ming Yao’s clothes, her anger giving way to a cold, calculating rage.

Their hair tangled together, their bodies a blur of motion.

Ming Yao’s upper body slid off the bed, her hands flailing, her fingers grasping at the edge, but finding no purchase.

She was like a fish on a chopping block, at Zhong Shiwu’s mercy.

A sharp pain shot through her, her throat constricted by the pressure on her neck, her body arching, her scream a strangled gasp.

A wave of dizziness washed over her, her body floating, weightless, then falling, the impact a jarring reminder of her helplessness.

She struggled against Zhong Shiwu, pushing and kicking, her mind clearing, the pain a catalyst, a desperate need for escape.

She needed help.

But her social circle in China was small, her days spent indoors, her only friend Lin Qianqian.

She pushed Zhong Shiwu away, scrambled off the bed, and grabbed her phone, her fingers fumbling as she dialed Lin Qianqian’s number.

Lin Qianqian was in the bathtub, humming happily.

Her seduction tactics were becoming increasingly sophisticated. She was even considering buying some lingerie, no longer satisfied with the “missing bottom” strategy.

It hadn’t worked on Lu Yin. Perhaps it would be more effective if Lu Yin was the one missing a bottom.

The thought made her pause, her hand, covered in soap suds, hovering over her leg.

How could she make Lu Yin take her pants off?

That was a good question.

Lu Yin was in the living room, working on student applications, her focus unwavering.

Her phone rang, and she assumed it was a student or a parent, then realized, seeing the blank screen, it was Lin Qianqian’s phone.

She saw the caller ID: “Ming Yao.” She remembered her conversation with Zhong Shiwu at the clinic.

It seemed they were on the same side.

Lu Yin didn’t want Lin Qianqian interacting with anyone else, and Zhong Shiwu didn’t want anyone disrupting her carefully constructed routine.

She hesitated, then let the phone ring, the sound echoing through the apartment, before finally declining the call.

It rang again, and again.

The incessant ringing was distracting, and she silenced Lin Qianqian’s phone, her own work resuming, her expression calm and unbothered.

In the bedroom, Ming Yao’s panic escalated. Lin Qianqian was her only hope.

She called again, and again, but there was no answer.

Zhong Shiwu stood before the mirror, adjusting her hair, her clothes, her appearance always impeccable, her vulnerabilities hidden beneath a carefully constructed facade.

She watched Ming Yao, a cold smile playing on her lips.

When the pack turned on you, there was no escape. No one would save you.