Night fell as it always did.
The bathroom was hazy with steam, and the warm light, softened by the vapor, cast a subtle, inviting glow over the cold tiles.
Lan Yucheng sat on a small stool, leaning back slightly, her neck resting on the edge of the bathtub. Her long, damp hair cascaded down, dipping into the basin filled with warm water.
Qing Xinxue knelt behind her, her fingers carefully threading through the thick, seaweed-like strands of hair.
This was the prelude to the “reward” Lan Yucheng had demanded: for Qing Xinxue to wash her hair. The movements had to be gentle, without causing the slightest pull or discomfort.
The gentle patter of water filled the air, and delicate, fragrant bubbles rose, permeating the small space.
Qing Xinxue’s movements were both focused and tense; each touch of her fingertips against the scalp carried a devout tremor.
She could smell the same shower gel on Sister Cheng’s hair as on herself, and this blend of scents made her heart sway.
“Xiaoxue.”
Lan Yucheng, her eyes closed, suddenly spoke, her voice sounding somewhat indistinct in the steamy air.
“Earlier today, when you saw me chatting with that classmate…”
She paused, her tone flat.
“What were you thinking?”
Qing Xinxue’s fingers instantly froze, her heart clenching as if gripped by an invisible hand.
‘It’s here… Sister Cheng was bound to ask.’
She dared not conceal anything, nor dared to lie.
The promise of “good performance” and a “reward” from earlier that day hung over her like both a carrot and a stick.
“I…” Her voice began to tremble, laced with a sob. “I… I wanted to push her away… I wanted her to stay far from you… I wanted you to only look at me…”
Lan Yucheng remained silent, as if quietly waiting for something deeper to emerge.
Qing Xinxue’s breathing quickened, as if a dangerous valve had been opened. Those suppressed, dark, unspeakable thoughts, once tacitly permitted by the act of “confession,” poured out uncontrollably.
“I… I also wanted… wanted to gag her… wanted to lock her up… so she could never find you again…”
“I… I even… thought of… something more excessive…” Her voice grew softer, tinged with extreme shame and a reckless abandon. “I wanted… wanted to leave marks on you that only I could see… wanted your entire body to be permeated with my scent…”
“I wanted your… eyes… to only reflect my image…”
“I wanted to… lock you away in a place only I know… every day… every day you could only see me… touch me…”
“I wanted you to… cry… wanted to hear the sounds you only make because of me…”
“I wanted you to… completely… completely become mine… belong only to me…”
Her confession grew increasingly incoherent, delving deeper into a bone-chilling madness. Every word felt as if it had been dredged from molten lava, scorching her throat and attempting to scorch the listener’s nerves.
She brutally laid bare her dirtiest, most unbearable possessiveness, presenting it raw in this steam-filled, seemingly cozy space.
After she finished, she collapsed onto Lan Yucheng’s back, utterly drained, sobbing softly, awaiting an anticipated storm—disgust, fear, or an even harsher punishment.
However, the expected storm did not descend.
Lan Yucheng remained quietly lying there, not even the frequency of her breathing changing.
Only the sound of water and Qing Xinxue’s suppressed sobs echoed in the air.
A long time passed, so long that Qing Xinxue almost believed Sister Cheng had fallen asleep, or was too disgusted by her words to bother with her any longer—
A very soft, very low chuckle, as if carrying a hint of playfulness, escaped Lan Yucheng’s throat.
Qing Xinxue abruptly stopped crying, raising her head in disbelief.
Lan Yucheng slowly opened her eyes and turned her head. The steam made her gaze appear somewhat hazy, yet the deep-seated coolness within it remained undiminished.
She looked at Qing Xinxue’s tear-reddened eyes, filled with fear and confusion, and a subtle curve formed on her lips—a curve so slight, yet enough to make Qing Xinxue’s heart stop.
“Is that all?” she asked softly, her tone devoid of any disgust. Instead, it carried a hint of… almost encouraging inducement. “Is there more?”
Qing Xinxue was stunned.
‘Sister Cheng… doesn’t find her disgusting? Isn’t afraid?’
Under that gaze, she felt mesmerized, and even darker, lingering thoughts slipped out uncontrollably: “I… I also wanted to… secretly… kiss you… everywhere… when you were asleep…”
“I wanted you to… actively… beg me…”
“I wanted… you to never… be able to leave me again…”
She had transformed herself into an utter monster of desire, holding nothing back before Sister Cheng.
Lan Yucheng listened quietly, her face devoid of any ripple, until Qing Xinxue could no longer articulate anything new, merely weeping helplessly.
Then, she raised a damp hand and gently stroked Qing Xinxue’s hot cheek, her fingertips carrying warm water droplets.
“Your thoughts,” she began, her voice possessing a strange, husky magnetism, like a devil whispering, “are quite numerous.”
Her fingertips slowly slid down, brushing over Qing Xinxue’s trembling lips, finally resting on her rapidly rising and falling chest.
“You may.”
These three soft words exploded in Qing Xinxue’s ears like a thunderclap!
‘She may?!’
‘Sister Cheng said… she may?!’
An immense euphoria and disbelief instantly overwhelmed all reason!
A terrifying light erupted in Qing Xinxue’s eyes. Almost instinctively, like a beast driven by hunger, she lunged at the nearby Lan Yucheng, eager to put those frantic thoughts into immediate practice!
However—
A damp, cool hand, firm and strong, blocked the space between her and Lan Yucheng’s lips.
The force of her lunge was easily defused.
Qing Xinxue bumped into that hand, looking at Lan Yucheng with a bewildered and desperate gaze, her eyes full of confusion and unfulfilled longing.
Lan Yucheng watched her impatient, almost out-of-control demeanor, a hint of cold satisfaction and a barely perceptible trace of mockery flashing in her eyes.
“But not now,” she said faintly, shattering Qing Xinxue’s fantasy.
As Qing Xinxue’s gaze instantly dimmed, almost on the verge of collapsing again, Lan Yucheng unhurriedly reached for her recently changed cotton pajamas from the nearby chair—pajamas that still held her body heat and familiar scent.
She gently tucked the soft garment into Qing Xinxue’s stiff embrace.
“Use this.”
Lan Yucheng’s voice carried a condescending, almost cruel indulgence.
“Didn’t you want to ‘leave marks,’ to ‘permeate with scent’?”
“Treat it…”
Her gaze meaningfully swept over the pajamas, then met Qing Xinxue’s blank eyes again.
“…as me.”
With that, she no longer paid attention to Qing Xinxue, who remained frozen in place. She stood up, wrapped a towel around her wet hair, and walked barefoot out of the bathroom with a leisurely grace.
Qing Xinxue was left alone, kneeling on the cold, damp tiles, tightly clutching the pajamas that seemed to still retain Sister Cheng’s body warmth and scent.
The steam gradually dissipated, and the light grew somewhat cool.
Qing Xinxue lowered her head, looking at the soft fabric in her arms, her nostrils filled with the intoxicating scent.
Permitted madness.
A granted substitute.
A tremendous sense of humiliation and a twisted, “satisfied” excitement, like ice and fire, intertwined and tore at her heart.
She hugged the garment tightly, burying her hot face into it, her body trembling violently with excitement and an indescribable emotion.
‘Sister Cheng allowed it…’
‘Although it’s in this way…’
‘But… this is also part of the “reward,” right?’
‘As long as she continues to be “good”…’
‘One day…’
‘One day…’
She held the substitute in her arms, as if embracing the entire world, or perhaps her own pitiable, placeless soul.
Outside the door, Lan Yucheng dried her hair, listening to the faint, suppressed sobs and subtle rustling of fabric emanating from the bathroom, her eyes calm and unperturbed.
The second step of taming:
Granting illusory permission,
Defining real boundaries.
It seemed,
The effect was even better than she had anticipated.