don’t want……

The night sky glittered with countless stars. Despite expecting a faint crescent moon to dim the starlight, the moon’s trace faded, leaving a deep blue canvas pierced with tiny, dense holes.

The white-haired woman leaned against the car, gazing at the stars. The cigarette in her hand flickered, its embers brightening and dimming. The night breeze scattered the smoke, only for another puff to rise.

The midnight mountain was eerily silent, its inky darkness almost suffocating, stirring primal fear that urged escape from this desolate place.

Yet Xu Fengluan stood rooted, her eyes veiled by the night, heavy with unspoken melancholy.

No one knew what she was thinking, not even herself. She thought she’d mastered her chaotic, leaping thoughts, always finding answers within them, but now, no answers came.

She tried focusing on concrete questions, like where her cigarette came from.

Simple enough. She’d pocketed the pack before leaving. The cigarette thief, in her long skirt with no pockets, wouldn’t dare discard them. Xu glanced at the backseat, easily spotting the pack near the seat.

Or, where were they?

Though she’d driven aimlessly, instinct led her along familiar paths.

This mountain was one Chu Cheng had found through friends, a spot they’d camped at multiple times. Xu had memorized the route.

Her thoughts grounded, she exhaled in relief, assessing their situation. Frequent camping with Chu Cheng meant the trunk held supplies—gasoline, water, compressed biscuits, and cookware.

She’d need to refuel and boil water soon.

Though it was still autumn, the mountain was far colder than the city. The car’s AC kept it bearable, but stepping out, she shivered, her jacket damp with dew.

In such conditions, cold water and biscuits wouldn’t do.

Driving down at night was unwise. The narrow, winding mountain road lacked streetlights, risking a crash with one misstep.

Xu exhaled heavily, realizing her impulsive loss of control had stranded them here. Yet, she felt no regret.

Except…

Her phone lit up with videos from Chu Cheng, entrusted temporarily. Before Xu could open them, Chu Cheng video-called, ranting the moment it connected.

“Hey, why’s Liu Tingsong’s cat so fierce? Nearly clawed me!”

Since learning about Liu’s condition, the Burning Meteor trio had stopped calling her “Sister Tingsong,” adopting Xu’s habit of using her full name.

“Hey, ancestor, I’m opening your can! Why so aggressive?”

“Xu Fengluan, control this cat!”

Xu didn’t speak, muting the call and glancing inside before returning to the screen.

“Don’t overreact. Fat Cat’s gentle, doesn’t scratch randomly,” she said softly.

“Gentle, my foot!” Chu Cheng fumed, turning the camera to the sofa, where the cat stood, glaring fiercely.

“Look, look! It’s snarling at me, even after I brought treats!”

The cat was indeed on guard, poised to pounce.

Chu Cheng opened a can, eyeing it warily, afraid of being scratched.

“Next time, don’t call me for this,” she grumbled. “I wouldn’t have come if your videos didn’t make it look cute.”

“Must be you. Cats don’t like you,” Xu teased, unconvinced.

“Nonsense! Every cat in my complex adores me,” Chu Cheng retorted, then shifted, “What’s up? You and Liu Tingsong glued together again?”

Xu hadn’t shared recent events, feeling it pointless and burdensome to explain. If not for today’s mishap and worry for Fat Cat, she wouldn’t have asked Chu Cheng to check in.

She pursed her lips, saying, “I’ll explain in a few days.”

“Fine,” Chu Cheng sighed. She loved digging but held back with Xu and Liu.

As the can opened, she placed it in the bowl and retreated, muttering, “How does Liu Tingsong raise this thing? It looked fine in videos, but now it’s like a leopard.”

Xu ignored her, in no mood for banter, ready to hang up after a few words. Chu Cheng yelped, stopping her, “Are you with Liu Tingsong? Why’s it so dark? What are you two doing?”

Xu’s silence made Chu Cheng speed up, bombarding her with questions.

Xu paused, her thoughts drifting back.

At sunset, with fiery clouds ablaze.

Perhaps too far gone, Liu, even with the seat reclined, reached for Xu’s neck, pulling her closer.

She tilted her head, not fully awake from lingering tremors, instinctively seeking a kiss, craving Xu’s touch.

But the fabric straps, once tugged, became an irritating restraint. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

She tried to undo them, but Xu noticed, grabbing her hand.

“Don’t move,” Xu warned, keeping her at a tantalizingly close yet untouchable distance.

“Liu Tingsong, no moving without my permission.”

White hair tangled with dark strands, swaying slightly.

Heavy breaths intertwined. The spacious SUV couldn’t fit them comfortably in one seat, so legs overlapped, waists rising with each breath, brushing repeatedly.

But it wasn’t enough, at least for Liu now—too fleeting.

The soulless object’s sensations, after rising, left her in emptiness. The suppressed desire, like a lit fuse, screamed with obsessive madness.

Yet Xu forbade movement.

Liu’s hand clutched Xu’s collar, wrinkling it, but didn’t dare pull further, only gripping, restraining.

Tears gathered at her eyes, refusing to fall, pitiable. Her white skirt, crumpled and soaked, could’ve been wrung out, like a rain-drenched magnolia, its pristine elegance muddied and fallen.

“No moving,” Xu stressed again, unmoved by the trembling tears, asserting absolute control. Liu could only obey, yielding to her whims.

“Xu Fengluan?!”

“What are you spacing out for?!”

Chu Cheng’s voice snapped Xu back.

She licked her sticky lips, saying, “There was an accident.”

“Huh?” Chu Cheng scratched her head, hating vagueness.

“We’re on the mountain. We’ll head back tomorrow,” Xu said simply.

“Alright…” Chu Cheng nodded, confused, adding, “Stay safe.”

“Okay,” Xu replied quickly, reminding her, “Lock the door when you leave.”

“Got it, got it,” Chu Cheng grumbled, cut off before saying more, left with a twisted expression.

Xu pocketed her phone. Time was short; she moved to the trunk.

After some clattering, a fire sparked, heating water in a small pot.

Sitting stiffly by the fire, Xu couldn’t suppress memories. With tasks done, there were no distractions, and they flooded in.

The woman, forbidden to move, was pitifully compliant, her obedience tempting Xu further.

Calloused hands roamed her skin, painting crimson patterns, more vivid than the sunset clouds.

Incoherent sounds hummed in Xu’s ear, like a newborn kitten yet to meow, whimpering instinctively with a crying plea.

But when granted, she resisted. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Prior suppression made everything easier, climbing and falling repeatedly. Tears streamed, her grip on Xu’s clothes failing, falling aside.

Overwhelmed, each release heightened her sensitivity. A touch sparked tremors, uncontrollable, relentless.

She tried to escape, but the seatbelt held her. The cramped space offered no refuge, no curling up. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Xu’s cruelty, indulged endlessly, feared no consequences. As Liu’s waist tensed again, Xu teased her to beg.

Liu couldn’t, shaking her head with dwindling reason, her bitten lips parting, yielding only glistening threads, silent.

So pitiful.

Xu’s mind echoed *so pitiful*. Bullied to misery, Liu whimpered, trying to gesture with lead-heavy hands, only to get an “I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, Liu Tingsong.”

“What are you flailing about, sister?”

Xu understood, having learned basic sign language while accompanying Liu to treatments. She knew simple refusals.

But Xu didn’t want to know.

Liu had given her more than one object, all still in play. The remote was pressed chaotically, Xu herself unsure of the setting, ruining the white skirt.

*Hiss…*

A spark landed on Xu’s hand, startling her.

The pot’s water boiled.

Xu rubbed the singed spot, ladled water into a bowl, let it cool, then cleaned up and returned to the car.

Inside, Liu slept deeply, unresponsive to shaking, murmuring faintly before closing her eyes again.

It reminded Xu of earlier, pushed to her limit, crying hoarsely, “…No… please…”

Xu’s gaze wavered, then refocused, lifting the blanketed woman, coaxing her to drink the warm water.

Outside, the night deepened, the extinguished fire’s ruins steaming. Insects crawled over, then veered away, leaving utter silence.