Chapter 56
A few minutes later, Lu Yin opened the door.
Lin Qianqian was sitting on the floor, her hand clutching the pill bottle, the label damp with tears.
“Can you please stop locking me out?” she asked, her voice thick with unshed tears, looking up at Lu Yin. “I’ve told you, so many times, I just want you to be okay, but you won’t listen…”
She leaned against the wall, her shoulders slumped. “I’m worried about you. I read online that people with your condition sometimes lock themselves in their rooms and hurt themselves. I’m afraid you’ll do that too…”
“Are you still hungry?” Lu Yin asked.
“The food’s cold! How can I eat it?” Lin Qianqian exclaimed, her earlier concern overshadowed by Lu Yin’s apparent indifference. “You’re driving me crazy! Why are you so stubborn?!”
“Should I reheat it?” Lu Yin asked.
“No, I don’t want it,” Lin Qianqian said, her anger returning. Lu Yin hadn’t even acknowledged her heartfelt confession, her worries dismissed with a mundane question about food.
“Come to bed.”
Lin Qianqian didn’t move, her silence a form of protest.
She wouldn’t always obey Lu Yin. She had her own will, her own desires.
Lu Yin reached out a hand, and Lin Qianqian swatted it away.
She wasn’t that easy to appease.
Lu Yin’s hand reached out again, this time not to pull her up, but to gently tilt her chin up, wiping away her tears.
Lu Yin knelt down, her gaze meeting Lin Qianqian’s, her voice soft and gentle. “Come to bed. It’s late.”
“Then carry me,” Lin Qianqian said, holding out her arms.
Lu Yin lifted her and carried her to the bedroom.
As she lay on the bed, tears welled up in Lin Qianqian’s eyes again.
She wasn’t crying for Lu Yin, but for herself, her own pathetic weakness, so easily swayed by Lu Yin’s affection.
She rubbed her face against Lu Yin’s pillow, her tears staining the fabric, Lu Yin watching her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
Lu Yin’s gentle tone reminded her of their childhood, and a new tactic emerged, a way to manipulate Lu Yin, to regain control.
“You evil woman! You’re so mean!” she said, her voice a playful whine, poking Lu Yin’s side. “I’m really angry!”
“Why are you angry? Let me see,” Lu Yin said, her voice laced with amusement, her hand gently stroking Lin Qianqian’s back.
Lin Qianqian looked up and kissed her, her teeth sinking into Lu Yin’s lower lip, refusing to let go.
Tonight, she would be the dominant one!
She had repeated this mantra countless times, her self-deception a source of both amusement and frustration. Surely, one day, it would come true.
“Have you considered buying me another wolf hair brush?” Lu Yin asked, her voice breathless, as they parted for air.
Lin Qianqian’s bravado vanished, the memory of the brush, of its unintended use, a sobering reminder of Lu Yin’s darker side.
“In your dreams. I’m broke,” she mumbled, unsure what had happened to the brush. Lu Yin had probably cleaned it and put it back in its box. She didn’t care.
It was a memento, a reminder of their shared past.
“Then I’ll buy you one,” Lu Yin offered.
“No! I don’t need one!”
“Why not?” Lu Yin asked, her voice teasing. “You’re the one who misused it.”
“You’re the one who misused it! How can you accuse me?!” Lin Qianqian exclaimed, indignant. “I gave it to you for calligraphy! Why would you give me one?”
“For calligraphy, of course,” Lu Yin said, her eyes twinkling. “What were you thinking?”
Lin Qianqian, frustrated, decided to play along, her fake tears turning into real ones.
Lu Yin, seeing through her act, still tried to comfort her. “Okay, okay, don’t cry.”
Lin Qianqian cried louder, her sobs exaggerated, her performance worthy of an Oscar.
“Alright, it’s my fault. I apologize,” Lu Yin said, her own laughter a mixture of amusement and exasperation, tucking Lin Qianqian into the bed and wiping away her tears.
“Just a verbal apology? I don’t accept it,” Lin Qianqian said, trying to wriggle out of Lu Yin’s embrace.
“What do you want?” Lu Yin asked, her voice serious.
“I want you to listen to me.”
“Okay.”
“You always say that, but you never do,” Lin Qianqian said, directing her. “Go pour me a glass of water.”
Lu Yin hesitated, then went to the living room.
Lin Qianqian retrieved the pill bottle from her pocket.
She took the water from Lu Yin, blew on it, took a sip, then handed the glass and the pill bottle back to Lu Yin. “Now take your medicine.”
Lu Yin looked at her, her gaze intense.
Lin Qianqian, despite her tough words, her childish demands, still cared enough to make sure she took her medication.
Lu Yin took the pills without a word.
“And drink all the water!”
Lu Yin finished the water.
Lin Qianqian smiled, kissing Lu Yin’s cheek. “That’s more like it. Now, cuddle me.”
She snuggled into Lu Yin’s arms, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.
Nothing mattered more than Lu Yin’s well-being.
She had always been forgetful. Lu Yin had taken her to the bank to open her first account, years ago.
Lu Yin had told her not to use her birthday as her PIN, but Lin Qianqian had insisted, afraid she would forget it, then promptly forgotten it anyway, forcing Lu Yin to take her back to the bank to change it, finally settling on Lu Yin’s birthday.
It was the only number she could remember, and she used it for all her passwords.
She might be forgetful, but she never forgot anything about Lu Yin, the good or the bad.
“Sister…” she whispered, her eyes shining, her face close to Lu Yin’s. “One last thing before we go to sleep. You have to listen to me.”
“What?” Lu Yin asked, opening her eyes.
“Kiss me again,” Lin Qianqian said, pointing at her lips. “A proper kiss this time.”
Their eyes met, the air between them charged with unspoken desires.
Lu Yin’s fingertip traced Lin Qianqian’s lips, the light touch sending shivers down her spine.
Lin Qianqian licked her lips, her tongue brushing against Lu Yin’s finger.
She looked into Lu Yin’s eyes, remembering everything Lu Yin had taught her: how to fold clothes, how to cook, how to navigate the complexities of social interactions.
Not a guardian, but more than a guardian.
Lin Qianqian hadn’t been a good student, her ability to survive on her own questionable, but as long as she had Lu Yin, she didn’t need those skills.
She took Lu Yin’s hand, her fingers tracing the lines on Lu Yin’s palm, feeling the steady rhythm of her pulse, a comforting counterpoint to the frantic beating of her own heart.
She was impatient with Lu Yin’s deliberate slowness, her teasing touch a source of both pleasure and frustration.
Since Lu Yin had agreed to obey her, she wouldn’t beg, wouldn’t plead.
But Lu Yin, as if sensing her thoughts, continued her slow, torturous exploration, her warm hands caressing every inch of her body, avoiding the one place she craved her touch the most.
“I know what you’re doing! You’re teasing me!” Lin Qianqian said, her body moving against Lu Yin’s hand, her lips finding Lu Yin’s.
She wasn’t the same naive girl she had been before. She kissed Lu Yin back, her own kiss demanding, insistent, her hands moving to Lu Yin’s neck, her touch possessive.
She nibbled on Lu Yin’s lower lip, remembering Lu Yin’s tolerance of her rebellious streak.
From skipping homework assignments, to getting her ears pierced, to her teenage experiments with sex toys in Lu Yin’s bed, Lu Yin had never judged her, only guided her, her discipline tempered with affection.
It was Lu Yin’s unique blend of firmness and gentleness that had allowed Lin Qianqian to thrive, her carefree spirit untamed, her only fear the loss of Lu Yin’s love.
She continued kissing Lu Yin, wanting to hear her moan, her own breath coming in short gasps, her lips starting to ache.
Lu Yin, unable to prolong the torment, took Lin Qianqian’s hands and pinned them above her head, her gaze meeting Lin Qianqian’s, a soft kiss on her eyelid a silent acknowledgement of her desire.
Lin Qianqian, the ghost that haunted her dreams, was now here, a tangible presence, her soft whimpers replacing the silent accusations of her nightmares.
“Don’t tremble,” Lu Yin said, kissing her forehead, her fingers gently tracing the lines of Lin Qianqian’s face. “We have time.”
“Then kiss me. You didn’t listen to me,” Lin Qianqian whispered, her voice thick with tears. “You promised…you always break your promises…”
Lu Yin, unable to resist her pleas, her vulnerability, kissed her again, a soft, lingering kiss on her lips.
Lin Qianqian’s hand found Lu Yin’s, their fingers intertwining, the pressure of their grip a source of both comfort and pain.
After a long moment, Lu Yin’s hand moved to Lin Qianqian’s stomach, stilling her restless movements, a silent promise of more.
She kissed her again, a deeper kiss, the familiar taste of Lu Yin’s lipstick a comforting reminder of their shared intimacy.
Lin Qianqian’s nose tingled, her eyes filled with tears, but as Lu Yin pulled away, she said, her voice a husky whisper, “I want more…”
Lu Yin swallowed, the taste of Lin Qianqian’s blood still lingering on her tongue. “So greedy,” she murmured.
“You have to listen to me,” Lin Qianqian reminded her.
“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Lu Yin said, going to the bathroom.
Lin Qianqian lay back against the pillows, touching her forehead, her neck, her skin damp with sweat.
She had wanted more, again and again, losing count, Lu Yin’s touch leaving her breathless, her mind a blank canvas.
“Sister…” she whispered, her fingers twining Lu Yin’s hair with her own, a playful, intimate gesture.
Lu Yin looked down at her, her hand caressing Lin Qianqian’s back.
Lin Qianqian’s lips trembled, her throat tightening with unspoken emotions.
She had always thought sentimental words were foolish, but now, she couldn’t stop them, the words pouring out of her, a torrent of love and regret.
If she could go back, to the day of Lu Yin’s trial, she would have run to her, shielded her from the crowd, from their cruel whispers and accusations.
“What’s wrong?” Lu Yin asked, seeing her silence. “Are you feeling unwell?”
“No,” Lin Qianqian sniffled. “I wish I were taller.”
Lu Yin chuckled. “Why?”
“So I could protect you.”
“Protection has nothing to do with height.”
“I guess so…” Lin Qianqian hugged her tighter, tears streaming down her face.
Lu Yin wiped away her tears, her voice filled with concern. “Why are you crying?”
“I just…I feel bad…for you.”
Lin Qianqian’s voice broke, her sobs muffled against Lu Yin’s chest.
If it weren’t for her, Lu Yin’s life would have been different, better. She would have been a successful artist, her talent celebrated, her kindness admired.
The old Lu Yin, so gentle and compassionate, would have had many friends, many admirers.
She had accused Lu Yin of being cruel, but she was the one who had been cruel, selfish, her actions destroying Lu Yin’s life, her spirit.
Lu Yin had treated her like a sister, but she had seduced her, confessed her love, then abandoned her, leaving Lu Yin to bear the burden of their forbidden love, the weight of public shame.
Lin Qianqian couldn’t forgive herself, the memory of that day a constant source of guilt and regret.
She knew Lu Yin had suffered, and she wished she had been braver, stronger.
Lu Yin, understanding her unspoken words, her silent apology, smiled sadly. “Perhaps I owed you something in a past life,” she said. “And now, I’m repaying the debt.”
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