On the first day, time moved like congealed glue, thick and sluggish. After Su Yiyi left, a profound silence descended, filling every corner of the space with an almost palpable weight.
Lan Yucheng curled up on the bed, the blanket still carrying the scent of Su Yiyi’s calming essential oil. Once, this aroma had felt suffocating, but now it was her sole comfort.
She buried her face deep into it, like an addict savoring the last lingering trace of a drug.
A pang of hunger occasionally rose in her throat. Yet, the mere thought of walking alone to the kitchen, facing those elegant but cold and unforgiving utensils, seized her with a deeper weariness and resistance.
‘What was the point of getting up?’ she wondered. No one would serve her food at the perfect temperature; no one would watch her eat with expectant eyes.
Eating had become a purely mechanical task, a mere act of survival stripped of all meaning. She rolled over, curling her body even tighter, allowing the emptiness in her stomach to intertwine and spread with the void in her heart.
For most of the time, she drifted between dozing and waking, her consciousness hazy. Her dreams were bizarre and fantastical, always featuring a blurred figure watching her from a distance.
Whenever she tried to make out who it was, the figure would dissipate into the mist. Was it Qing Xinxue? Or… Su Yiyi? She couldn’t tell, nor did she want to.
Sleeping, at least, offered a temporary escape from this suffocating loneliness.
****
Early on the second morning, a sharp stomach cramp jolted her awake. Her body was protesting vehemently.
She had to struggle out of bed, her feet feeling strangely light and unsteady as they touched the floor. In the kitchen, the light congee and side dishes Su Yiyi had prepared before leaving, left in an insulated container, had grown completely cold.
Mechanically, she reheated them. Then, she sat at the empty dining table, eating little by little.
The food tasted like chewing wax. Outside, the sunlight was bright and clear, but it couldn’t penetrate the chill in her heart.
After finishing, she practically fled back to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed that still held the lingering scent of both of them.
Scrolling through her phone? The flickering messages on the screen failed to pique her interest in the slightest. Her gaze drifted listlessly, staying for no more than three seconds before the screen went dark again.
Dazing off became her only state, as time dragged by, minute by agonizing minute.
****
By the third day, the feeling of abandonment reached its peak.
The house was so quiet she could hear the echo of her own heartbeat. Every subtle sound was amplified infinitely, tormenting her nerves.
She longed to hear the click of Su Yiyi’s heels, to hear her gentle inquiries. Even Su Yiyi’s unsettling possessiveness now seemed incredibly alluring.
A mixture of grievance, anxiety, and an inexplicable anger fermented and swelled within her chest. She needed to confirm her existence; she needed to confirm that Su Yiyi was still ‘watching’ her!
Suddenly, she sat up from the bed and rushed into Su Yiyi’s walk-in closet. It was filled with Su Yiyi’s clothes, neatly arranged like items in a boutique display.
She impulsively pulled down one of Su Yiyi’s frequently worn silk nightgowns. The cool fabric slid over her skin, carrying Su Yiyi’s distinct, subtle fragrance.
She put it on. The nightgown was somewhat loose, making her already slender figure appear even more delicate. She walked to the mirror, looking at her pale face, her panicked eyes, and her ill-fitting nightgown. A twisted impulse surged within her.
She picked up her phone, adjusted the angle, and took a photo. In the picture, she was disheveled, her collarbone slightly exposed, her eyes holding a bewildered, self-destructive allure.
Her fingers trembling, she sent the photo to Su Yiyi. The accompanying message read: [I’m wearing your clothes.]
No reply. Time ticked by, minute by minute, the phone screen remaining utterly dark, like a silent, mocking eye.
The grievance instantly transformed into a sharp sting. ‘Why isn’t she replying? Is she busy? Or… does she simply not care?’
‘Am I no longer attractive to her in this state?’ Panic washed over her like ice water.
Unwilling to give up, she took several more daring photos, deliberately imitating Su Yiyi’s seductive poses from memory. She tried to make her eyes look alluring, but her inner turmoil and awkwardness only made her appear more pathetic and ridiculous.
She sent them all in a rush. [Look at me!]
[Talk to me!]
[Am I not pretty?]
Still, nothing. It was as if her messages had fallen into a bottomless ocean.
Anger and shame burned in her chest.
Deep within her body, a craving, fed by three days of emptiness and the current frenzy of imagination, stirred quietly. It mingled with a pathological obsession for the scent of the fabric. Her body felt as if it no longer belonged to her; it was betraying her, screaming.
The familiar itch and void, nurtured by drugs, began to spread through her bones once more.
Tears suddenly streamed down her face, hot against her cheeks. She couldn’t distinguish if they were from grievance, anger, or a purely physiological tremor.
Her other hand grabbed the phone, the camera shaking as she aimed it at herself: a face streaked with tears, an expression of utter loss of control.
Then, all these fragmented images and sounds were crammed into the dialogue box and sent to that long-silent avatar.
[Reply to me! Su Yiyi! Look at me!]
[I feel so awful…]
[I want you… to come back! Please!]
[Are you abandoning me?]
[I was wrong… I won’t do that again… please come back, okay?]
She was like a wounded, wailing cub trapped in a snare, begging for the hunter’s attention in the most humble, undignified way.
****
As for Su Yiyi…
In her office, Su Yiyi’s tablet screen was split into several views, clearly displaying real-time footage of various corners of her home, as well as the projected content of Lan Yucheng’s phone screen.
On the first day, watching Lan Yucheng lie on the bed like a soulless doll, completely uninterested in food, a satisfied curve touched Su Yiyi’s lips. ‘Excellent,’ she thought, ‘the dependence is already showing physiological withdrawal symptoms.’
On the second day, seeing her finally eat due to hunger, only to quickly retreat back to bed to suffer in emptiness, Su Yiyi gently swirled the red wine in her glass. ‘The fish has taken the bait and is struggling in the shallows.’
By the third day, when Lan Yucheng started taking selfies while wearing her clothes, Su Yiyi’s interest peaked. She watched the screen, observing that face trying to mimic allure but unable to hide its panic and distress.
She saw the desperate, provocative photos, and a powerful surge of pleasure, mixed with possessiveness and sadism, coursed through her body. She deliberately refrained from replying, savoring the ultimate sense of control over her prey’s psyche that this delayed gratification brought.
When the footage shifted to Lan Yucheng crying while clutching her shoes, then beginning that desperate self-comfort, all while continuously sending pleading messages, Su Yiyi’s breathing quickened slightly, and a faint blush appeared on her cheeks.
The completely broken Lan Yucheng on the screen, who had shed all dignity and existed only for her, only to suffer for her, perfectly satisfied Su Yiyi’s deepest, darkest desire for control.
She set down her red wine glass and pulled open her desk drawer. Inside, two items lay quietly: the familiar pink potion, and a brand-new, unused syringe filled with an eerie red liquid.
Her fingertips lightly brushed the cool glass bottle and the metal needle, her eyes gleaming with a nearly fanatical light. ‘It’s time,’ she mused.
‘It’s time to give this beautiful, nearly broken bird a more potent ‘food,’ one that will make her utterly lost, unable to ever leave.’
She picked up her phone and finally replied to the latest, tearful voice message. Her voice, transmitted through the earpiece, carried a deliberately suppressed weariness, as if she had just finished a busy task, yet it contained undeniable reassurance and promise:
“Be good, don’t fuss. I’ll be right back.”