That day, unusual sounds drifted from beyond the door.
There was the unmistakable scrape of something being dragged, muffled sobs, and Qing Xinxue’s eerily light humming.
Then, the bedroom door creaked open.
The silk blindfold remained firmly in place. Yet, Lan Yucheng sensed a shift in the ambient light, followed by the sickening thud of a heavy object being cast onto the floor.
A palpable stench of blood and fear permeated the air.
“Sister Cheng,” Qing Xinxue’s voice brimmed with a triumphant joy, as if presenting a prized possession. She approached the bed, but unlike her usual habit, she did not touch Lan Yucheng.
“I’ve brought him,” she whispered. “This piece of trash who hurt you.”
From the floor came the sounds of struggle and slurred curses. It was the blond boy’s voice, but it sounded weak and filled with pain.
Qing Xinxue seemed to kick him, eliciting a muffled groan. “Quiet, you filthy thing.”
Then, she untied the silk ribbon from Lan Yucheng’s eyes.
The sudden influx of light made Lan Yucheng squint uncomfortably.
As her vision slowly cleared, she first saw Qing Xinxue’s face, alight with anticipation. Her gaze then dropped to the floor, where the boy lay like a discarded rag doll.
One of his legs was twisted at an unnatural angle. His face was covered in fresh wounds and grime, his eyes wide with terror and despair.
When the boy’s gaze met Lan Yucheng’s—her wrists bound by silk, her face pale, her eyes vacant—he froze for a moment.
Then, as if grasping at a final straw, or perhaps a vicious death throe, he spat out a mouthful of blood and let out a hoarse laugh:
“Haha… cough, cough… Lan Yucheng? What the hell… what the hell happened to you? Tied up like a dog by this lunatic? Serves you right! I should’ve just stabbed you a few more times back then…”
His words were cut short.
“_Smack!_”
A deafeningly crisp slap! Qing Xinxue’s hand moved with such speed it was a mere blur. The boy’s head snapped violently to the side, his cheek instantly red and swollen, his lips split and bleeding.
He could no longer utter a sound, only whimpers of terror.
Qing Xinxue’s smile remained, but it was chillingly cold. She looked at the boy as if he were nothing more than an annoying cockroach.
Then, she turned to Lan Yucheng, her tone softening to an ethereal gentleness, as if that brutal slap had not come from her at all:
“Sister Cheng, look, he made you unhappy. Tell me, how should we deal with him?” Her eyes were filled with a seductive glint, seemingly encouraging Lan Yucheng to deliver a final verdict.
Lan Yucheng’s gaze shifted from the boy, returning to Qing Xinxue’s face. She looked at those eyes, brimming with expectation and possessiveness, at that face which had once been innocent and lively, now etched with obsession and madness.
What should she say?
_Kill him? Forgive him?_
No matter the answer, it seemed it would only make Qing Xinxue more excited, or perhaps, even more twisted.
She simply gazed at Qing Xinxue in silence, her eyes like still water, devoid of ripples or any instruction.
A prolonged silence stretched between them, filling the room.
Qing Xinxue’s smile gradually faded. She tilted her head, as if trying to decipher Lan Yucheng’s silence. After a few seconds, she seemed to ‘understand’.
“I see,” she nodded, her voice laced with a sudden, chilling realization. “His very existence makes Sister Cheng uncomfortable, doesn’t it? He reminds Sister Cheng of bad things, makes Sister Cheng sad.”
She rose, her gaze returning to the boy shivering on the floor, her eyes once again icy.
“It’s alright. I’ll just make him disappear.”
Like dragging a piece of trash, she grabbed the boy by his collar and roughly hauled him out of the bedroom. Struggles and dragging sounds echoed from outside the door, followed eventually by the sound of the main door opening and closing.
Everything fell silent.
Lan Yucheng lay on the bed, the silk scarf still binding her wrists, like a brand of shame. Listening to the complete absence of sound from outside, her heart felt utterly empty.
****
After an indeterminate amount of time, Qing Xinxue returned. A faint scent of freshly washed skin clung to her, along with a subtle, lingering smell of blood that could not be entirely purged. Her expression was exceptionally calm, even carrying a sense of relieved ease.
She walked to the bedside, not approaching with her usual eagerness. Instead, she quietly watched Lan Yucheng for a few seconds, then reached out and began to untie the silk scarf from her wrists.
The restraints were finally removed.
A faint red mark remained on her skin.
Next, Qing Xinxue stepped back, clearing the path to the bedroom door. Her face held an incredibly complex expression, a mixture of exhaustion, a twisted form of ‘love,’ and a sense of… almost desperate surrender.
“Sister Cheng,” her voice was very soft, with a barely perceptible tremor, “you… you can go.”
Lan Yucheng froze.
_She could… go?_
The freedom she had yearned for countless times in her heart now lay before her. To drag this battered body out of this door, to leave this cage that had filled her with fear and numbness.
She propped herself up on her arms, attempting to sit. Her body, weakened and sore from prolonged confinement, protested with a sharp pain from her abdominal wound as she moved.
Slowly, she shuffled to the edge of the bed, her feet touching the cold floor.
Qing Xinxue stood there, watching her quietly, neither stopping her nor offering help. Only her eyes, filled with a fractured light, seemed poised to lose the entire world.
Lan Yucheng stood up, swaying slightly. She looked towards the bedroom door, beyond which lay the living room, the entryway, the door to the ‘normal’ world.
Freedom.
She should rush out immediately.
But…
Her feet felt nailed to the spot.
Leave here, and then what? Return to that ‘reality’ that remained alien to her? Face other potential ‘capture targets’ and unknown dangers? Dragging her injuries, carrying this unspeakable, deeply etched memory of terror?
And here…
Here was Qing Xinxue.
The source of her endless pain and fear had also become her sole familiar, her only ‘reliance’ in this warped world.
Her suffering stemmed from Qing Xinxue, and her very ‘sense of existence’ seemed to have dwindled to the sole meaning of being needed, being ‘loved’ by Qing Xinxue.
In the throes of extreme control and deprivation, she seemed to have lost the ability to walk independently.
The world outside suddenly felt vast and terrifying.
In contrast, this cage, filled with the scent of disinfectant, blood, and twisted affection, had become the only familiar, ‘safe’ corner where she could curl up.
A strange, pathological dependence, like a vine, quietly sprouted from the depths of her numb heart, wrapping around her ankles.
Slowly, she turned back.
She looked at Qing Xinxue, who stood in the shadows, appearing as though she might shatter at any moment.
In Qing Xinxue’s incredulous, suddenly illuminated gaze, Lan Yucheng stumbled, step by step, back to the bedside.
Then, she reached out and cupped Qing Xinxue’s face.
Under the other girl’s shocked and ecstatic gaze, she tilted her head, actively, with a despair and resignation akin to a sacrifice, pressing her lips to Qing Xinxue’s.
It was a cold, trembling, yet undeniably clear kiss.
They parted with just a touch.
Lan Yucheng looked into Qing Xinxue’s eyes, which had erupted with a brilliant, pathological light, like fireworks. Her voice was hoarse, faint, yet clear:
“…I’m not leaving.”
Qing Xinxue abruptly embraced her, with a force that almost crushed her bones. Hot tears instantly soaked Lan Yucheng’s shoulder.
“Sister Cheng… my Sister Cheng…” she repeated incoherently, her voice filled with the immense ecstasy of having found something lost, and a sense of settled satisfaction, “We’ll be together forever… forever…”
Lan Yucheng remained stiff in her tight embrace, her eyes hollowly fixed on the window.
Sunlight streamed through the pane, but it could no longer reach the depths of her heart.
She had, with her own hands, closed the door to her freedom.
Choosing to remain in this eternal cage, built together by love and madness.
From prey, to prisoner, to… a willing accomplice.