Kitchen and Aprons

No matter what Liu Tingsong had researched, Xu Fengluan couldn’t stop her.

After playing with the cat for half an hour, Xu Fengluan had to admit San Jin would never learn backflips. She picked up her phone again—if she couldn’t solve the problem, she’d deal with the one who started it.

Chu Cheng saw her message, chuckling at Xu Fengluan and Liu Tingsong’s naivety, amused for a while.

Xu Fengluan, puzzled, kept pressing for answers.

Meanwhile, the doorbell rang several times. Liu Tingsong shuttled back and forth, carrying in delivery bags.

Xu Fengluan glanced over, seeing vegetables and meat, and relaxed, ignoring them.

The group chat exploded past 99 messages, even drawing Zhaozhao, who sent a babyish voice note demanding to see the cat.

Xu Fengluan obliged, filming a full-angle video of the Maine Coon, then noticed kitchen noises.

Not shameless enough to freeload and be waited on, especially since her leg splint was off—as long as she was careful, avoiding heavy activity or collisions, walking was fine—she shuffled to the kitchen to help wash vegetables or peel garlic.

But at the doorway, she froze.

What was Liu Tingsong doing?

In the kitchen, bathed in sunset glow, vibrant greens sat on the cutting board, tomatoes floated in the sink, bumping purple grapes, and steam puffed from a clay pot on the stove.

Liu Tingsong stood at the counter, a thin strap around her neck holding a beige apron with a puppy print, loosely tied. Her long dress was gone, replaced not by familiar loungewear but a…

Fitted white shirt that hugged her curves too well.

Where she’d dug up this shirt, Xu Fengluan didn’t know. It was proper enough—no cutouts or flashy details, buttons undone to the second, the slight exposure covered by the apron’s edge, only slipping lower as she moved.

But to say it was proper…

Xu Fengluan had never seen such a tight fit.

It cinched her slim waist, tailored pleats seemingly chaotic but artfully arranged, accentuating her full curves, like ripe July peaches ready to burst with sweet juice, yet half-hidden by the apron, obscuring the view.

Xu Fengluan quickly averted her gaze, not daring to look.

Liu Tingsong, as if just noticing her, turned, sweat glistening on her nose like a dewdrop on porcelain, her expression a mix of surprise and urgency. “Baby, can you help me with something?”

What help?

Xu Fengluan swallowed, chaotic thoughts rising and suppressed.

Liu Tingsong looked troubled. “I forgot to tie my hair up.”

She gestured at her loose hair, sighing, “It’s in the way.”

Refusal lingered on Xu Fengluan’s tongue. She felt like a puppy at the edge of a trap, wary of the hunter’s snare.

“No…” she started.

But Liu Tingsong was quicker. “Can you grab a hair tie from my room? It’s by the bedside table.”

“Huh?” Xu Fengluan’s words caught, stunned by the simple request.

She blinked, her jade-green eyes showing rare confusion, like a puppy biting a trap’s rope, only to find it was just discarded twine, the supposed hunter merely a passerby.

“Can you?” Liu Tingsong asked again, seemingly oblivious to her bewilderment.

“Forget it, I’ll go…”

“I’ll get it!” Xu Fengluan blurted, turning to rush to Liu Tingsong’s room.

Her back stiffened, steps quick, ignoring Liu Tingsong’s call to slow down, guilt driving her.

Liu Tingsong’s room, slightly further in, faced Xu Fengluan’s temporary one. The door was ajar, opening with a push.

The decor matched the rest, a faint fragrance hitting her as she entered. Without lingering, Xu Fengluan headed straight for the bedside.

She meant to grab the hair tie and leave, but her eyes caught something on the bed…

Her breath hitched, fixing on a white-furred cat-ear headband.

She froze, then noticed a fluffier tail beside it, softer than San Jin’s, tempting to touch, as if it could slip through fingers or coil around a wrist.

Further over, black lace, a leather collar…

Even a gag.

Clearly, these were from the delivery.

Left brazenly on the bed for Xu Fengluan to see, a deliberate hint—like the shirt, they could adorn Liu Tingsong if Xu Fengluan wanted, if she relented.

Her heart skipped, and she turned away, but her gaze lingered uncontrollably.

Imagining Liu Tingsong calmly picking these out, ordering them, her face unreddened.

Xu Fengluan’s ears burned, her steps clumsy as she grabbed the hair tie from the bedside table, suddenly wary even of its simplicity, fearing another of Liu Tingsong’s tricks.

Fingers clutching the tie, she slammed the door shut, loud and hurried, as if chased.

Back in the kitchen, Liu Tingsong acted oblivious, turning with her usual elegance, her eyes softening at Xu Fengluan.

“Your…” Xu Fengluan, slightly breathless, held out the hair tie.

Liu Tingsong didn’t take it, raising her hands helplessly. “Can you tie it for me, baby? My hands are oily from cutting meat.”

She nodded at the counter, where vegetables had been plated, replaced by scored chicken wings.

Xu Fengluan pursed her lips, seeing through her ploy but unable to refuse.

“Making your favorite lemon chicken wings tonight,” Liu Tingsong said, her smile warm, outshining the sunset.

Xu Fengluan bit her lip. The older Liu Tingsong got, the craftier she became. What could Xu Fengluan do? She was powerless against her.

She fell step-by-step into the older woman’s trap.

“Turn around,” Xu Fengluan said, defeated, giving in.

Liu Tingsong turned, adding, “Can you retie the apron, baby? It’s too loose, keeps slipping.”

Here we go again. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Xu Fengluan’s eyes darkened, irritation flaring.

Was Liu Tingsong pushing it too far?

She’d made her stance clear, but that didn’t mean forgiveness.

Taking a deep breath, Xu Fengluan loosened her grip on the hair tie, her voice low and hoarse. “Turn around.”

Silence meant consent. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Liu Tingsong’s smile deepened, turning obediently.

“Ponytail?” Xu Fengluan asked, lips tight.

“Sure,” Liu Tingsong replied lightly.

Xu Fengluan lifted her hair, avoiding her neck, only the strands brushing her skin, tickling.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the simmering pot’s gentle gurgle.

Xu Fengluan’s movements were clumsy—not from inability; she often tied her own hair to keep it from interfering with practice. But she rarely did it for others, and deliberately kept Liu Tingsong at bay, making her actions stiff.

Gathering the hair, she revealed Liu Tingsong’s slender back, her butterfly bones slightly raised, spine trailing down to a fragile waist, a silhouette sparking endless fantasies.

Xu Fengluan gritted her teeth, looping the hair tie a few times before securing a neat ponytail.

Then came…

Her gaze drifted down, the quick task not easing her tension but plunging her into a tougher spot. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

To accommodate her, Liu Tingsong bent slightly, exposing her graceful neck.

Xu Fengluan recalled a documentary from childhood—animals baring vulnerable necks or bellies to show submission, proving loyalty under the dominant’s fangs.

Her teeth itched inexplicably.

She tugged the loose bow, unraveling it smoothly, like unwrapping a gift, but showed no joy, hastily grabbing it to keep it from falling.

Her jaw tightened, her usually subtle throat more prominent with each swallow.

“Tie it tighter,” Liu Tingsong said, her simple request laced with a teasing lilt, as if urging Xu Fengluan to bind something else.

Xu Fengluan didn’t reply, her nimble fingers tying a neat bow, calloused fingertips grazing Liu Tingsong’s neck, sparking shivers.

Her hands moved lower, to the waist.

Liu Tingsong had tied a dead knot.

“Sorry, baby, it was hard alone—I accidentally knotted it,” she said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

Xu Fengluan’s brows furrowed. She didn’t need to think to know Liu Tingsong’s words were half-true, adding “scheming” to her mental list of titles.

The knot was tough, tied tight. Xu Fengluan had to bend down, forced to stare at the spot she’d avoided.

The rope looped around the slim waist, settling in the curve, faintly visible under the shirt. No matter how she tried to avoid it, contact was inevitable.

Sweat beaded on Xu Fengluan’s forehead, struggling to untie the knot.

Before she could stand, Liu Tingsong leaned back, pressing into her.

Caught off guard, Xu Fengluan stepped forward, reaching to steady her.

Her breath stopped, body rigid as a board.

Her fingertips and palm pressed against something too soft, revealing an obvious truth.

Besides the shirt, Liu Tingsong wore nothing.