Chapter 71
When Lu Yin returned home, she was organizing a box of art supplies.
Lin Qianqian, ignoring her, tried to get her attention, walking back and forth, performing various small tasks, hoping to be noticed.
But Lu Yin remained focused on her work.
Lin Qianqian was annoyed, but her earlier anger had been replaced by a wave of guilt, remembering Lu Yin’s struggles, her pain.
“Back from work? Are you going back this afternoon?” she asked, walking over to Lu Yin and picking up a paintbrush, examining it before putting it down.
“No,” Lu Yin said, glancing at Lin Qianqian’s red-rimmed eyes, then quickly looking away, resuming her task.
“You didn’t even kiss me goodbye this morning,” Lin Qianqian said, her voice a soft complaint.
“Did we have such an agreement?” Lu Yin asked, carrying the box upstairs to the loft.
“New year, new rules. I just thought of it. I bet you’d love to try it,” Lin Qianqian followed her, deliberately blocking her way, her playful antics a familiar attempt to get Lu Yin’s attention.
They went back downstairs, the conversation unresolved.
Lin Qianqian stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching Lu Yin, who seemed unfazed by her words, her earlier attempt at playful banter ignored.
Lin Qianqian wasn’t sure if it was because she had overdone it, her constant teasing now a predictable pattern, easily dismissed.
She decided to try a different tactic, her ultimate weapon.
One of them had to break today.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t be her.
“I’m moving out,” she said, her voice carefully neutral, reminding Lu Yin of her earlier promise. “I have a stable job now, so I’m going to find a place near the office. It’ll be easier for my commute. And I’ve saved some money. I can afford a decent place.”
She glanced around the living room. “Not as nice as yours, of course, but it’s just me. Small and simple is fine.”
Lu Yin watched her, knowing she had gone to the institution and the hospital, but unsure what Zhong Shiwu had said to her, her sudden declaration of independence unexpected.
“I’ve been staying here for months. I don’t want to impose on you any longer,” Lin Qianqian said, dusting off her clothes, even though they were clean, her hands in her pockets, her posture casual, her demeanor nonchalant. “I’ll pack my things in the next few days. I’ll look online first, and then I’ll contact a real estate agent. They should be back in the office after the holidays.”
She took a few steps towards Lu Yin, who instinctively stepped back, her back against the wall.
Lin Qianqian gently tugged at the collar of Lu Yin’s shirt, her voice a soft, playful whine. “Sister, when I’m rich, I’ll repay your kindness!”
Lu Yin chuckled, her hand grabbing Lin Qianqian’s wrist and twisting it gently.
It wasn’t meant to hurt, just to make her let go, but Lin Qianqian immediately cried out, pulling her hand back and rubbing her wrist.
“Look! It’s all red!” she said, showing Lu Yin her wrist, then, seeing no mark, quickly retracted her hand, her voice regaining its usual playful tone. “I heal quickly.”
Seeing no reaction from Lu Yin, she leaned closer, her fingers tracing Lu Yin’s collarbone, her gaze searching for the familiar mole.
Lu Yin took her wrist and kissed her, her lips soft and warm, the touch a sweet surrender, silencing Lin Qianqian’s playful banter.
She wanted to say something serious, something meaningful, but the kiss had muddled her thoughts, her mind a pleasant haze.
She kissed Lu Yin back, her hands moving to Lu Yin’s shoulders, her touch more insistent, her desire a growing flame.
Lin Qianqian, still young, still reckless, believed she could do anything, say anything, her pursuit of Lu Yin’s heart a relentless, often painful, journey.
She felt a surge of frustration, Lu Yin’s evasiveness, her silence, a constant reminder of the distance between them, the unanswered questions, the unspoken desires.
Lu Yin was in control, her touch both gentle and demanding, and Lin Qianqian felt a sense of unfairness, a need to assert herself.
She bit Lu Yin’s lip, hard, wanting to draw blood, a small act of rebellion.
But Lu Yin didn’t pull away, the kiss deepening, the taste of blood mingling with their saliva, the sensation both shocking and strangely arousing.
Lin Qianqian gasped for air, trying to push Lu Yin away, but Lu Yin’s body was a solid, unyielding force, her embrace a cage.
She remembered Zhong Shiwu’s words, the similarity between drowning and suffocation, the feeling of helplessness, of being trapped, her body no longer under her control.
Her vision blurred, her body weakening, her hands falling to Lu Yin’s shoulders, and Lu Yin, sensing her surrender, lifted her onto the desk, their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling.
Lin Qianqian’s slippers fell to the floor, their noses touching, the scent of each other’s arousal filling the air.
When Lu Yin finally released her, Lin Qianqian slumped against the desk, gasping for air, her body trembling.
“Can I tell you something?” she asked, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
She couldn’t keep it to herself any longer, the encounter with her mother, the weight of their shared past, a burden she couldn’t bear alone. She needed Lu Yin’s help, her guidance.
But telling Lu Yin the truth meant reopening old wounds, reminding her of the pain Lin Yun had caused, the accusations, the public humiliation.
“Tell me later, okay?” Lu Yin said, her voice soft, her answer a gentle evasion.
She had known, since Lin Qianqian’s late return on New Year’s Eve, who she had gone to see.
She didn’t want to hear it, not yet, not before she had dealt with Lin Yun, her revenge a carefully planned, meticulously executed strategy.
She knew Lin Qianqian’s tendency to cry, her tears a torrent of emotion she couldn’t control, and she couldn’t bear to see her like that, her heart aching with a mixture of love and a fierce, protective anger.
She needed time, time to prepare, time to harden her heart, to protect herself from Lin Qianqian’s pain.
Showing weakness would only lead to more pain. She believed that, her trust in others, in the world, a fragile thing, easily broken.
She didn’t need anyone’s sympathy, their pity. She only needed Lin Qianqian.
Lin Qianqian, frustrated by Lu Yin’s evasiveness, her sudden coldness after their passionate encounter, punched her lightly on the shoulder and stormed off to her room.
“I’m moving out this afternoon!” she declared, slamming the door shut and locking it, throwing herself onto the bed.
She needed to give Lu Yin a wake-up call.
She browsed nearby hotels, choosing the most expensive, the most luxurious.
Lu Yin sat on the sofa, licking her lips, the faint taste of blood a familiar sensation. She touched the small wound, another bite mark from Lin Qianqian, her lips a canvas for Lin Qianqian’s teeth, the marks a testament to their passionate encounters.
Wounds healed slowly in the winter, the old ones barely scabbed over before new ones appeared.
Lin Qianqian was like a puppy, her love expressed through playful nips and bites.
She received a message from Zhong Shiwu, the evidence she had requested, the final piece of her plan falling into place.
She stared at Lin Qianqian’s closed door, then messaged Zhong Shiwu, asking what she had said to Lin Qianqian.
Lin Qianqian’s red-rimmed eyes, her tear-stained cheeks, were a clear indication of her distress, and Lu Yin’s heart ached with a fierce, protective tenderness.
As soon as she sent the message, Zhong Shiwu called.
“Why are you accusing me? I just had a casual chat with her,” Zhong Shiwu said, her voice laced with amusement. “If you’re so worried, go comfort her. The matter has been resolved.”
“When?” Lu Yin asked.
She didn’t like uncertainty, and until everything was finalized, she would maintain her current course, her strategy unchanged.
Lin Qianqian’s antics were easily managed, her childish threats a familiar pattern.
“People celebrate the New Year, you know. It’ll have to wait until after the holidays,” Zhong Shiwu said. “I’ve already submitted the documents. You can celebrate now.”
“Thanks,” Lu Yin said, hanging up. She wasn’t in a celebratory mood.
It was New Year’s Day. She still had two days to wait.
After a few minutes, she went to Lin Qianqian’s room and knocked on the door, knowing prolonged silence would only make things worse.
No response. She opened the door.
“I thought you would have locked it,” she said, closing the door behind her, her back against it, watching Lin Qianqian, who was lying motionless on the bed, her face buried in the pillow.
Lin Qianqian had locked the door, but she had also unlocked it, hoping Lu Yin would come in, would comfort her, her pride battling her desire for affection, for reassurance.
She wouldn’t be so easily swayed by Lu Yin’s words, her touch. She wouldn’t throw herself at Lu Yin, begging for forgiveness, for love.
She would pack her things, a silent protest, a dramatic display of her independence.
She sat up, retrieved her suitcase, and started throwing clothes into it, her movements haphazard, her anger fueling her actions.
“If you’ve made up your mind, I won’t stop you,” Lu Yin said, watching her, her arms crossed. “But there are a few things you should consider. Can you afford rent and utilities on your own? I won’t be supporting you anymore.”
“You’ll have to do your own laundry. Clothes don’t magically fly into the washing machine. You’ll have to learn how to put on a duvet cover. Sleeping with just the insert isn’t acceptable.”
“And you’ll have to fill the bathtub yourself. I’m not sure if you can even afford an apartment with a bathtub, but I’m just giving you a heads-up.”
“And if you get food poisoning, you’ll have to call an ambulance, not your emergency contact.”
“Stop it!” Lin Qianqian exclaimed, her hands covering her ears.
Lu Yin’s words, though delivered in a mocking tone, were all true, a painful reminder of her own lack of practical skills.
Did Lu Yin really think she was that incompetent?
“I can learn! I’m a fast learner! Very fast!”
Lu Yin chuckled, her disbelief evident.
Lin Qianqian glared at her, her hands clenching into fists as she continued packing, not caring what she was putting in the suitcase, her only thought to escape, to punish Lu Yin for her indifference, her mockery.
“Excuse me, I’m moving out,” she said, dragging the suitcase towards the door.
Lu Yin stepped aside, watching her.
“Where are you going?” she asked, following her to the door, her voice casual, her expression amused.
“I’m running away!” Lin Qianqian declared.
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