On the carpet

Tears traced along the contours, seeping into their lips, only to be crushed and sucked clean.

Liu Tingsong kissed fiercely, urgent and panicked, her hands stroking Xu Fengluan’s cheeks and neck, pleading yet yearning, desperate to make her retract her words.

*No.*

Though Liu Tingsong didn’t speak, Xu Fengluan felt her intent.

But she wasn’t moved—only mocked.

Liu Tingsong seemed certain this would work, endlessly repeating her tricks.

This time, Xu Fengluan felt no stir, no vengeful biting. She pushed harder on Liu’s neck, slamming her back onto the carpet.

Liu tried to struggle but was pinned.

Her earlier rise was only due to Xu’s surprise. Now prepared, Xu allowed no success.

“Liu Tingsong,” she loomed, voice icy, gazing down with absolute dominance.

“What are you playing at?” she demanded, each word deliberate.

“Had enough?”

The woman sprawled on the carpet only looked up, her open coat revealing a silk nightdress clinging to her form, thin straps slipping, hair half-covering her shoulders.

In the dim light, her pale skin was stark, her tear-reddened eyes glowing, blush spreading from cheeks to ears to neck, damp with tears.

Fragile, vulnerable.

This was Liu Tingsong’s state, lips glistening, neck pinned, breath stifled, mouth slightly open with traces of moisture.

Xu Fengluan’s eyes remained dark, like stagnant water, unmoved.

She warned coldly, “Liu Tingsong, stop clinging to me.”

It was over. Xu Fengluan wasn’t so devoted she’d wait five years, let alone ten or fifteen.

As she spoke, her grip on Liu’s neck loosened, intending to pull back, but Liu grabbed her hand, pressing it back to her throat, lifting her head willingly.

Sometimes punishment wasn’t just pain—like in the hospital, when Liu begged Xu to bite her.

People’s tolerance for mental pain is limited. Unable to cope, some turn to alcohol, others to lust, some to physical pain to ease mental collapse.

Liu Tingsong chose the latter.

Xu Fengluan’s actions were uncontrolled rage; Liu’s were willing endurance.

Both needed a release beyond tears.

Her pinned fingers pressed against Liu’s throat.

Xu saw Liu mouth silently, “Torment me.”

*Please, torment me.*

*As you said before, any way you want.*

*I’m yours, always.*

The hand on Xu’s pressed harder, more oppressive than before. Liu didn’t know how to fix things but knew how to make herself suffer more.

Breathing grew labored, lips a tight line, cutting off her last air.

Outside, wind howled, rustling leaves, bending branches. Dark clouds tinged red loomed, hinting at rain or cold, weighing on the heart.

Windows slammed shut, neighbors grumbled about the weather, mixed with mothers urging kids to bed.

The room darkened, corners claimed by shadows, leaving a cramped space where Xu Fengluan and Liu Tingsong clashed.

Half a month ago, they were inseparable lovers. Now, they didn’t know how to approach each other, separated by an invisible wall of accumulated resentment, impossible to release.

In a daze, her fingers neared a breaking point. Liu’s scattered pupils and bitten lips evoked a crushed magnolia, drifting to be trampled.

Xu Fengluan yanked her hand back. Liu’s weakened grip fell away, trembling fingers hitting the carpet.

“Liu Tingsong, what…” Her voice, tinged with fear, was cut off.

Liu, with unknown strength, pushed Xu down, straddling her waist, leaning in.

The former controller was overpowered. Xu, in her red-and-white racing suit, white hair mussed, looked cool yet was pinned, forcibly kissed.

Not quite a kiss.

Liu’s strength was spent, lips pressed together, breaths chaotic, not seeking to deepen.

But she bit Xu’s ear.

This oddity sparked doubt. Xu growled, “Liu Tingsong, what’s wrong with you?” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

No alcohol on her lips, yet Liu seemed drunk.

“Liu Tingsong?” Xu called again, only to be invaded as Liu seized the chance, her tongue slipping in.

Both too familiar—Liu had taught Xu to kiss. If Liu didn’t yield, Xu retreated.

Rapid breaths fell, lips clashing. Xu tried to bite, but Liu blocked her, filling the space.

Tears didn’t relent, raining on Xu’s brows, nose, cheeks.

No rain outside, yet Xu was drenched.

Something was wrong.

Even now, Liu acted strangely, not speaking, pressing closer, as if emotionally broken, driven by instinct.

Like her stubborn vigil by the hospital bed, but worse.

Xu’s brows furrowed. Having experienced such states, she recognized Liu’s behavior.

“Get up,” her voice panicked, reaching to help, “We’re going to the hospital.”

Liu grabbed her hand, pressing it through her loose collar.

The kiss didn’t stop. Liu knew her too well—how to tease, how to make her surrender.

Hot, tearful kisses rose and fell, cool fingers tracing Xu’s jaw, neck, through her hair.

Xu crumbled, hands sliding to Liu’s slim waist, gripping, twisting, deepening the hollow.

Control slipped. When pain couldn’t soothe, they sought other ways.

The coat was tossed aside, the nightdress’s straps fell.

Outside, wind roared, stirring pebbles, the air damp. Fine rain began.

Red bricks by the wall soaked, vines thriving, but the spider’s web, fruitless all night, was shattered.

Rain streaked the windows, fogging them, obscuring the dark interior.

Someone’s hand brushed a guitar, sparking a sound. Xu tilted her head, buried in softness, inhaling Liu’s cold scent.

Her hands tightened on Liu’s waist, losing restraint, clutching her close.

The skirt pulled, revealing slender legs, knees pressing into the carpet, grinding, reddening with slight pain.

Xu, long smothered, turned to gasp. The torment she’d inflicted now returned differently.

Liu’s swaying hair brushed her ear, her teeth tugging the metal zipper, pulling it down slowly.

Xu glanced down but didn’t stop her, green eyes like deep pools reflecting Liu’s neck, marked by fingerprints and bites.

With a soft *click*, the zipper opened, the jacket parting. Tears fell on Xu’s shirt, leaving wet stains on her waist, more unsettling than other marks.

Xu grabbed Liu’s neck, pulling her forward, rising to kiss her lips but biting her jaw instead.

Liu didn’t resist, offering the other side when Xu released.

“Liu Tingsong, are you a dog?” Xu snapped, tone harsh.

Clearly, she was the biter, yet she called Liu the dog.

Liu didn’t reply, guiding Xu’s hand from her neck to her cheek, kissing her wrist, then her palm with delicate kisses.

Xu curled her fingers, but Liu gently opened them, nibbling, looking up.

Answering Xu’s earlier question.

Her misty eyes were pitiful, blush blooming, her dress pooling at her waist. She licked Xu’s fingers, fragile and yielding, tears falling.

The rain outside poured, unannounced, endless, as if all the world’s water converged here.

Mud splashed in flowerbeds, sticking to tiles, leaves matted, unmovable by rain.

Since that day, Xu disliked rain, but in the rainy season, she couldn’t escape. Her mind tangled, sinking into decadence one moment, fighting for clarity the next, breeding self-loathing. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Distracted, Xu felt a sting at her fingertips.

Liu was biting her.

Lips pursed, Xu yanked her hand free, sitting up, reaching for the nearby table.

A plastic bag held nail polish remover and wipes from days ago, bought in frustration but unused due to the performance, left here.

With a *snap*, a small lamp flicked on.

Before Xu could close her eyes, Liu shielded them from the light, taking the remover.

Xu didn’t resist, eyes shut, muttering, “Liu Tingsong, don’t regret this.” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

She’d pushed Liu away under reason’s restraint, but Liu kept coming, rejected yet persistent. Whatever happened, Liu deserved it.

Liu understood the implication but twisted open the remover.