So have you figured out how to torture me?

Xu Fengluan’s mind went blank, her vision a haze of white.

She froze, utterly unprepared for this, unable to muster even the most basic reaction.

Yet Liu Tingsong pressed on, her voice soft. “Not mad anymore, okay?”

Her words curled around Xu Fengluan’s ear, laced with the faint scent of milk.

With Liu Tingsong straddling her, they were mere inches apart, her arms pulling Xu Fengluan closer, tightening around her neck.

Xu Fengluan didn’t dare look up, but looking down wasn’t much better.

It was bedtime, and Liu Tingsong wore nothing beneath. Her slightly upturned collarbone, soft curves, and slender waist rose and fell with her breath, grazing the blue-and-white hospital gown. The casual, languid pose exuded an intoxicating allure.

“Forgive me, okay?” Liu Tingsong’s voice softened further, her half-lowered eyes shimmering like a rippling lake.

The older one was clever—switching outfits didn’t quell Xu Fengluan’s irritation, so she paid a steeper price.

Heat surged back to Xu Fengluan’s ears, spiking unpredictably, turning them a vivid red.

Panicked, she grabbed the blanket, wanting to cover Liu Tingsong but hesitating. “Liu Tingsong, get…”

The word “down” never came.

Liu Tingsong leaned closer, as before, cupping Xu Fengluan’s cheeks, kissing her as she tilted her head back.

Her hands gripping the blanket dented the bed.

Xu Fengluan tried to pull back, but her spine hit the propped pillow, trapping her. Instead of gaining distance, Liu Tingsong closed in, blocking all escape.

Their breaths mingled, the faint mint of toothpaste bringing a coolness to their heated lips.

White hair tangled with dark strands.

A sound came from beside them—clothes hitting the floor.

No one cared.

No time to care.

The curtains swayed in the breeze, their shadows dancing on the floor, weaving intricate patterns.

Outside, a stray cat yowled, stirred by something, noisy and restless.

“Baby…” Liu Tingsong called again, ignoring Xu Fengluan’s earlier warning.

Xu Fengluan couldn’t fathom how she’d changed. Five years hadn’t created distance; they’d only thickened Liu Tingsong’s skin. A nickname once reserved for intimate moments now slipped out casually, easier than their names.

Others had called her similar things—fans with their endless pet names.

“Baby,” “wife”—simple terms thrown around under the stage or in Weibo comments.

Xu Fengluan felt little, seeing them as expressions of affection, neither responding nor objecting.

But from Liu Tingsong’s lips, it was different.

Xu Fengluan zoned out, searching for an answer, but Liu Tingsong noticed.

Cool fingers grazed her hand, pulling it to her waist before Xu Fengluan could react.

This was…

Their lips parted slightly, then met again, her voice hoarse and muffled.

She called, “Baby.”

The drawn-out tone, tender and lingering, sent tingles through Xu Fengluan’s ears.

“Don’t grab the sheets,” she said. “Grab me.”

Her words fell, and Xu Fengluan’s hand tightened, fingers curling, digging into the soft curve of her waist, as if branding her skin and bone.

The brief pause ended. Lips parted again, teeth grazing the still-healing bite mark on Liu Tingsong’s lip.

Xu Fengluan fell back into the soft pillow, the bed creaking loudly.

*Creak!*

The sharp sound didn’t interrupt; it only drew Liu Tingsong closer.

Xu Fengluan froze, separated only by thin fabric, the softness overwhelming, impossible to resist.

“Don’t…” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Her panic was obvious, flustered and vulnerable. Despite being out of the bathroom and dressed, she was more helpless than before.

Liu Tingsong laughed, her punishment laced with deliberate teasing.

Her voice low, lips still brushing Xu Fengluan’s, she said, “Baby, you’re blushing again.”

Fingers grazed her cheek, trembling with her voice, her breath hot, the softness palpable through the fabric.

“So cute.”

She said it again.

This time, Xu Fengluan was slightly less paralyzed, managing to lift her hands to push back, defiant. “Move.”

“You’ll catch a cold…” Xu Fengluan grasped for excuses.

Liu Tingsong laughed, peppering her with soft kisses, insatiable, unrelenting. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Finally switching from “baby,” Xu Fengluan exhaled, only to feel a strange irritation, her gaze drifting.

Liu Tingsong laughed again, inexplicably delighted.

A peck landed. “Okay, my treasure.”

There it was again!

Xu Fengluan opened her mouth, but Liu Tingsong pulled the blanket up, mimicking her, covering them both, forming a small hill.

She cupped Xu Fengluan’s face, foreheads touching, her gentle eyes like a clear spring, rippling with desire.

“Does my darling like this? Hiding together?”

The familiar nickname morphed into something worse, more intense.

Before Xu Fengluan could respond, Liu Tingsong kissed her again, no longer tentative, as if reclaiming all her earlier restraint.

Her hand tightened on Liu Tingsong’s waist, leaving red marks on delicate skin.

Xu Fengluan’s lashes flickered. The blanket dimmed the light, casting them into a hazy gray where oxygen grew thin, replaced by thickening milky scent, dizzying her.

It felt so strange.

Same place—hospital room, narrow bed, her in a hospital gown, and…

Liu Tingsong.

But under the blanket, it changed.

Like sneaking kisses as students under parents’ noses, now under nurses’ watch.

Either way, it carried a thrilling secrecy, like role-playing.

Xu Fengluan’s breathing grew heavier.

Liu Tingsong pushed further.

The night deepened, the moon glowing brighter, casting a misty veil over treetops, dew condensing on leaves.

Amid insect chirps, the yowling cat found a spot and curled up to sleep.

The breeze rustled the ivy climbing the red brick walls.

Time blurred until oxygen ran out. The blanket was flung off, both gasping for air.

A glint of moisture flashed in Liu Tingsong’s eyes, then vanished.

Before she could move, Xu Fengluan wrapped her tightly in the blanket, pressing her down and scooting to the bed’s edge.

Liu Tingsong didn’t resist, knowing pushing too far might send Xu Fengluan, splinted leg and all, fleeing the room.

Their breaths mingled, then stilled, silence spreading.

Xu Fengluan’s thoughts were a mess, her mind blank—not the earlier blankness, but one consumed by Liu Tingsong, impossible to suppress.

Her breathing shifted, chaotic.

Someone who’d experienced intimacy was different. A novice might blush and falter, but she recalled more—wild moments from their past.

She’d thought five years dulled those memories, but now, stirred, they were vivid, etched in her mind. Liu Tingsong’s gasps by her ear—urgent, tearful, urging her on yet begging her to stop.

Xu Fengluan covered her ears, then dropped her hands, her palms scalded by her burning earlobes.

A sound came from behind.

She stiffened.

But no one approached—only receding footsteps.

Water hissed again.

Liu Tingsong’s second shower tonight.

The first was for Xu Fengluan.

The second, too.

Same reason.

Xu Fengluan shrank into the blanket, tempted to hide again but stopped, tucking it neatly under her collarbone, primly.

This time, Liu Tingsong didn’t linger, rinsing briefly with cool water before stepping out, drying off behind the curtain, dressing in blouse and pants.

Xu Fengluan didn’t stop her or peek, lying stiffly, staring at the ceiling.

Minutes later, Liu Tingsong turned off the light and climbed into bed from the other side.

Xu Fengluan stayed silent, scooting over to give her space.

The room plunged into darkness, curtains blocking outside light, heightening other senses. Liu Tingsong’s uneven breathing was audible.

Xu Fengluan pursed her lips, feeling slightly better but not entirely.

Her heart remained a mess.

Then she recalled her promise—to give Liu Tingsong an answer before leaving the hospital.

She flipped over, facing away.

But Liu Tingsong slid closer, hugging her from behind, pulling her in.

Her body was cool.

In the muggy summer, it wasn’t uncomfortable—almost soothing, like a perfectly tempered ice pack.

Xu Fengluan said nothing, holding her answer on her lips before finally calling, “Liu Tingsong.”

Her discharge was set; no more delays.

Perhaps why Liu Tingsong had been so bold tonight…

Before she could dwell, Liu Tingsong hummed, as if anticipating her words.

Xu Fengluan paused, hesitating despite the moment’s urgency, then said, “I don’t think we’re suited to get back together.”

Her resolute words landed, and Liu Tingsong visibly trembled but stayed silent.

Xu Fengluan’s lashes dropped, offering no comfort, her voice hoarse and wavering. “Before or now, I’ve always felt this way. Nothing’s changed.”

Her words were blunt, almost cruel, laying bare her pessimism, foretelling a doomed outcome.

Reuniting a broken mirror only glued shattered pieces together—cracks remained, impossible to fully mend or forget.

Rather than a reunion, it was the unwilling retracing old steps, exhausting all affection before admitting defeat.

Liu Tingsong hugged her tighter, forehead against her protruding spine, her breath shaky.

“But…” Xu Fengluan sighed weakly. “I can’t resist you.”

“I can’t keep pushing you away.”

Her tone was helpless, admitting defeat.

“No matter how much I steel myself, how many resolves I make, I keep giving in, letting you closer.”

“At our first meeting in five years, my body recognized you before my mind did.”

Her words quickened, clear and resolute. “I have a physical attraction to you beyond all reason. All logic and restraint vanish in your presence.”

“Liu Tingsong, I can’t deny I still feel for you, like an instinct carved into my bones.”

“I’ll fall for you, a thousand times over.”

“I can’t resist or avoid it.”

“In every future I’ve imagined, besides music, there’s only you. Even after you left me, I never pictured anyone else.”

She spilled her thoughts, for the first time in five years so earnest and open.

Xu Fengluan paused, her rigid body softening, like a defeated fighter abandoning her struggle, revealing a lost, weary vulnerability.

“But I can’t fully let go of my reservations to accept you.”

“I can handle anyone leaving—except you.”

“Chu Cheng and the others don’t get why I’m stuck, refusing to let go or move on, tormenting myself.”

She clenched her jaw, suppressing the surging bitterness, refusing to cry.

She wanted no pity or guilt, no emotional leverage against Liu Tingsong.

She needed to be calm, rational.

Liu Tingsong, understanding, stayed silent, waiting.

“You should know—you must know…”

“You know my past, my experiences, my grievances, the neglect I faced, who I am, and how I became this way.”

“But you abandoned me. You discarded me.”

“You left me behind,” she repeated.

“You didn’t want me,” she whispered, like a lost puppy.

It was a wound that never healed, festering, tormenting her endlessly.

Xu Fengluan clenched her fists, nails digging crescent marks into her palms, oblivious to the pain, pressing deeper.

She inhaled sharply, speaking faster, as if to escape. “Liu Tingsong, this world hasn’t been kind to me. You know that. I told you everything—not to beg for better treatment, but to show you how much you meant to me.”

“I really loved you, and I hated you just as much.”

“That hate consumed me more than love, gnawing at me every night, plotting how to torment you, reject you coldly, cut you off. I’m worse than you think.”

She gasped, trying to suppress her emotions, but tears fell, wetting the pillow.

She rarely cried, yet always did for Liu Tingsong.

“I can’t resist you, but I can’t fully accept you. I can’t control my emotions—one moment happy, the next irritated, wanting to mess with you, make you as miserable and unhappy as me.”

“I want you to be a volatile lunatic like me.”

She spoke earnestly, “Liu Tingsong, I don’t recommend we get back together. I can’t fully trust you or our future.”

“Our relationship would be a fragile thread, snapping at the slightest disturbance.”

She stopped, giving Liu Tingsong time to process, or perhaps hesitating herself.

Outside, the night was perfect, the city silent, lights off, the clear sky unclouded, the moon at its brightest.

“But I’ll still torment you. When I’m unhappy, nothing you do feels right, even if you’ve done no wrong, even if I understand you. I can’t control my temper.”

She gave an example. “Like just now—kissing one moment, angry the next, making you change clothes endlessly, never satisfied, even escalating.”

She lowered her eyes, grateful for the darkness, for facing away, hiding her hate-twisted expression.

Liu Tingsong still held her, her cool body growing colder.

She listened quietly, waiting until Xu Fengluan finished, then spoke slowly. “So, how do you plan to torment me?”

Xu Fengluan’s heart jolted, then raced, nearly bursting, a ringing in her ears. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Liu Tingsong tightened her hold.

“Whatever you do, I’ll take it.”

“You can do anything. I deserve it.”

She inhaled, repeating past words with certainty. “I’m yours, always have been.”

Xu Fengluan’s heart fluttered, curling into a ball, her paused breath quickening.

Liu Tingsong did nothing more, just held her closer.

“Anything’s fine. I’ll accept it all.”

“As long as it’s you.”

Her gentle voice enveloped Xu Fengluan, who closed her eyes, the pillow soaked with salty tears.

The night deepened, words carried away by the breeze, leaving no trace.

Though they lay there, neither slept, emotions too raw. Closing their eyes felt too清醒, opening them self-tormenting.

Xu Fengluan took a deep breath. Liu Tingsong noticed, loosening her hold briefly before tightening again.

The silence solidified.

Xu Fengluan spoke first, nudging back with her elbow, voice muffled. “Liu Tingsong, I’m thirsty.”

The bedside table was on her side, a thermos of warm water within reach, yet she made Liu Tingsong get it.

Liu Tingsong didn’t object, rising, covering Xu Fengluan’s eyes before turning on the wall light.

Soft light glowed. Xu Fengluan blinked, adjusting, then pulled Liu Tingsong’s wrist down, repeating, “Thirsty.”

Liu Tingsong sat, helping her up, offering the cup to her lips.

But the “thirsty” one shook her head, eyes misty, refusing. “Not this.”

Liu Tingsong, puzzled but not angry, coaxed, “What do you want? I’ll buy it.”

Xu Fengluan glanced at her, emotions unreadable. Before Liu Tingsong could decipher, she reached for the apple Zhaozhao had half-scooped that afternoon, abandoned nearby.

Liu Tingsong, surprised, said, “Don’t you hate…”

Before she finished, Xu Fengluan placed the apple in her hand, leaning to bite a small piece from the scarred side.

She hated apples.

But she loved Zhaozhao, and even more, Liu Tingsong.

So she humored Zhaozhao, eating the toddler’s hard-won puree, and remembered Liu Tingsong’s casual remark, biting the apple she held.

I don’t like it, but if you feed it, I’ll eat it.

Xu Fengluan looked up, saying softly, “Sleep, Liu Tingsong.”

“Goodnight.”

Don’t be unhappy.