Apply medicine

By the time Liu Tingsong hurried back, the sun was nearly set.

The waiting fat cat, with a heavy thud, leapt to the floor, meowing urgently while sauntering toward her, feigning composure despite its eagerness.

A proud, tsundere Maine Coon.

As it reached Liu Tingsong, it flopped over, exposing its fluffy belly, demanding pets.

Liu Tingsong crouched, scratching its chin and head.

The Maine Coon squinted, purring contentedly.

But the moment didn’t last. After a brief indulgence, Liu Tingsong stood, her thoughts on the person deeper inside, even sidelining her beloved pet.

The inner room was unlit, dusk spilling through the window, casting shadows that blurred the line between light and dark, like a silent battle of black and white.

Xu Fengluan sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, sunk in a dark gray armchair, facing the gently rolling sea. Scattered papers littered the floor, scribbled with chaotic marks, while her phone played music, easing the room’s heavy air, faintly scented with sweet milk body wash.

Liu Tingsong didn’t disturb her. Though she’d urged the driver to hurry, now she lingered, unhurried.

Leaning against the wall, her gaze settled on Xu Fengluan.

The sofa obscured most of her, revealing only a silhouette—sleeveless white top, half-wet white hair clinging to her neck, water droplets falling onto pink cherry blossom embroidery, making it vivid.

Her eyes shifted to the nearby table. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

The medicine box, previously out, was now stuffed into a shopping bag, alongside strawberry yogurt and wet wipes bought to meet the minimum order.

Liu Tingsong picked up the bag, the plastic rustling loudly, prompting Xu Fengluan to turn.

Her cheeks were flushed from the steamy shower, her slender neck marred by red marks from a rough washcloth, her effort evident. Against her lean frame, she looked fragile, breakable.

“You’re back?” Xu Fengluan’s voice was lazy, low from disuse.

“Mm,” Liu Tingsong replied softly, then asked, “Why not rest on the bed?”

“Wanted to wait for you,” Xu Fengluan lifted her eyes, locking onto her. Her jade-green gaze, tinged by the fiery sunset, carried a pitiful, puppy-like longing…

No, not quite.

More like the Maine Coon outside, or worse.

The cat at least jumped down, meowing toward Liu Tingsong. Xu Fengluan stayed still, her eyes screaming for hugs, closeness, kisses, yet her arms didn’t budge.

Liu Tingsong wouldn’t deny her, more patient than with the cat.

Dropping the bag, she slid onto Xu Fengluan’s lap, arms wrapping around her neck. Their long-built chemistry let them adjust effortlessly, fitting perfectly together.

“I missed you,” Liu Tingsong’s voice softened, a satisfied sigh escaping, carried away by the breeze.

Xu Fengluan lowered her head, chin on Liu Tingsong’s shoulder, her grip tightening around her waist.

They stayed silent, as if making up for the morning’s missed embrace, reenacting it now.

As the orange sun sank below the horizon, the fiery clouds deepened, threatening to ignite the sea.

But the one who’d stared at it was distracted, clutching Liu Tingsong’s hand, tracing every knuckle.

Liu Tingsong didn’t pull away, her fingers slipping between Xu Fengluan’s, interlocking tightly. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

After a moment, she spoke, “Why drive here?”

“No good flights,” Xu Fengluan tightened her grip, returning the hold.

“I thought there was one around seven?”

“Too slow,” Xu Fengluan shook her head slightly. “And no pets allowed.”

Unlike with Chu Cheng, she was patient with Liu Tingsong, explaining, “I didn’t want to leave the cat home. Poor thing.”

Unclear if she meant the cat or herself.

Liu Tingsong chuckled, her tone chiding, “You can’t be so reckless. You drank last night, then drove alone. It’s unsafe.”

Xu Fengluan, displeased, ignored her, blowing on her earlobe as petty revenge.

“No more next time,” Liu Tingsong warned, nestling closer.

Xu Fengluan didn’t respond, saying, “There’s strawberry yogurt in the bag.”

A terrible topic shift.

“Be good,” Liu Tingsong coaxed, dragging her tone.

Xu Fengluan was too much, pulling a fait accompli, arriving in Haicheng and messaging Li Zi for the room number behind Liu Tingsong’s back.

Thankfully, Li Zi couldn’t keep secrets.

“Drink the yogurt,” Xu Fengluan pressed, ignoring her.

“Drink it, then—”

Xu Fengluan pursed her lips, staring.

So close, her striking features carried a bewitching allure.

Liu Tingsong looked away, resisting the charm, refusing to yield.

Xu Fengluan reached into the bag, inserted a straw, and pushed it into Liu Tingsong’s arms.

“Drink,” she said curtly.

Such a domineering way to dodge.

Liu Tingsong was torn between amusement and exasperation.

Seeing her unmoving, Xu Fengluan grabbed her hand, lifting the straw to her lips.

Liu Tingsong gave in, sipping, but mentally noted the tactic, plotting countermeasures.

It was funny—the yogurt’s childish packaging clashed with Liu Tingsong’s mature look: hair pinned up, silver-rimmed glasses, retro tailored suit, poised and distant. She should’ve held a ceramic cup, swirling black coffee, not this cute strawberry yogurt.

But she sipped, perhaps deliberately, leaving a milky stain on her lips.

Xu Fengluan reached to wipe it, but Liu Tingsong tilted her head first, teasing, “I recall something else in the bag.”

Xu Fengluan stiffened, avoiding her gaze.

“Um, medicine,” she mumbled, trying to brush past, outmatched by the older woman’s thicker skin.

“What kind?” Liu Tingsong asked, smiling knowingly.

“For… rubbing,” Xu Fengluan struggled at the trap’s edge.

“Oh?” Liu Tingsong nodded, her tongue sweeping the milk off her lips, chuckling, “Where?”

Xu Fengluan, flustered, shot her a sidelong glance.

Liu Tingsong laughed, grabbing a wet wipe from the bag and stuffing it into Xu Fengluan’s hand, saying indirectly, “Baby’s so good.”

Sipping yogurt, she called someone else “baby.” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Xu Fengluan’s lashes flickered, unable to refuse. She caused this; she’d take responsibility.

The wipe carefully cleaned each finger, even the palm, using three before stopping.

Liu Tingsong handed her the ointment.

Xu Fengluan gave her a look.

Her wine-red shirt was unbuttoned, black bra loosened, belt on the floor.

Ointment-coated fingers touched the curve below her collarbone, where kisses and bite marks intertwined, especially the darker, more fragile spots, swollen from being tugged by teeth, looking pitiful.

Xu Fengluan’s gaze lowered, her touch gentler.

The straw was bitten flat, leaving dents. Her exposed waist, so thin it seemed breakable, rose and fell with heavy breaths.

“It hurt so much today,” Liu Tingsong said suddenly, her tone a mix of grievance and provocation.

“But I couldn’t skip the bra—the shirt’s too thin.”

Xu Fengluan paused, the cool ointment applied thickly, but her fingers felt like they touched embers.

She avoided looking, spreading the ointment faster, lighter.

The usually covered area, now bare, felt cold, standing firm as if resisting Xu Fengluan’s touch.

“Feels weird, baby,” Liu Tingsong spoke again, softer.

*You’re the one making it weird,* Xu Fengluan muttered inwardly.

Liu Tingsong laughed, “Like a kid, needing to be held and fed candy for a shot.”

Through her glasses, her deep, captivating eyes held a commanding rhythm, like thorns in a forest, slowly ensnaring prey.

“Stop it,” Xu Fengluan finally said, her tone carrying a weak warning.

Liu Tingsong let out a soft hiss, whining, “It hurts.”

Nothing had changed, but when Xu Fengluan got stern, she claimed pain.

“Baby,” she pleaded softly, “Rub it for me, okay?”

Her fingers froze, and before she could decide, Liu Tingsong pulled her wrist down.

“You didn’t help me last night,” Liu Tingsong brought up old debts, her misty eyes accusing, “I pinched myself so hard.”

Indeed, the marks weren’t Xu Fengluan’s—she’d done it herself, overwhelmed, trying to manage both sides, leaving her in this pitiful state.

Xu Fengluan went quiet, then said, “Chu Cheng called me earlier.”

“Hm?” Liu Tingsong didn’t know why she’d mention this but played along.

Her fingers pressed into the curve, smoothing out bruises, her green eyes darkening, steeped in night. She wasn’t naive—years ago, she’d shared much with the woman in her arms. She wasn’t shy with Chu Cheng, but Liu Tingsong was too skilled, overwhelming even an experienced “puppy.”

But now…

With such blatant seduction, how could she stay unmoved?

She’d warned her.

“She wanted me to get a manicure,” Xu Fengluan said, unhurried.

“For Xiao Ye’s ex?” Liu Tingsong, sharp despite distraction, pieced it together.

“Mm,” Xu Fengluan agreed, adding, “Good thing I drove here early, or I’d be stuck.”

A slight exaggeration—no one could stop her if she wanted to leave, just a way to dodge earlier matters.

“No way, you’d stay a day at most. Safety first,” Liu Tingsong prioritized, putting education over seduction, insisting on practicality over romance.

Xu Fengluan let go, opening another ointment tube, applying it meticulously to her fingers.

“Don’t you want me to get a manicure?” Xu Fengluan asked casually.

“If you like,” Liu Tingsong said without much thought.

“No,” Xu Fengluan’s tone turned firm.

She said, “Inconvenient.”

Her trousers slid down her legs, caught by her toes, dangling at her ankle.

As if proving Liu Tingsong’s earlier words at the airport, the thin fabric was already wet, trembling under her touch.

Xu Fengluan didn’t pause, slipping under the fabric, the slick ointment delving in.

Liu Tingsong let out a muffled moan, the yogurt falling, her hands clutching Xu Fengluan’s collar.

“Chengzi told me to cool it, or I won’t hold my bass,” Xu Fengluan circled back.

Liu Tingsong couldn’t respond, unable to speak.

“I said it’s fine.”

Xu Fengluan chuckled, looking down, saying slowly, “You’re the one who can’t.”

Her dangling leg tensed, toes curling under the half-covering trousers.

Liu Tingsong tried to retort but couldn’t, wrinkling Xu Fengluan’s collar, gasping uncontrollably.

“Teacher,” Xu Fengluan’s voice was lazy, teasing.

“Hm?” Liu Tingsong managed a breathy sound, prepared but overwhelmed by the sudden, unrelenting move.

Her black-and-white eyes lost clarity, her whole being flushed soft pink, her usual cool intellect melting into vulnerability.

She tilted her chin, seeking a kiss.

Xu Fengluan dodged, scolding, “Don’t mess around, I’m applying medicine.”

“Mm,” Liu Tingsong, unable to speak, showed a wronged expression.

Her other hand gave a warning tap, then pinched deliberately, the soft leg skin soaking her fingers like warm water.

Xu Fengluan scolded again, “Don’t clamp, I can’t move.”

Her serious expression seemed purely dutiful, as if only applying medicine.

The good-tempered woman frowned, retorting, “I didn’t.”

Xu Fengluan laughed, moving as proof, asking, “Not? I can’t even move.”

Liu Tingsong’s waist buckled, insisting, “I didn’t.”

“Not this time?” Xu Fengluan proved again.

“No—” She couldn’t finish, burying herself in Xu Fengluan’s arms, gasping, her hair falling, revealing her arched neck, delicate bones visible under thin skin, fragile and refined.

The distant fiery clouds faded, leaving only orange remnants, hinting at earlier brilliance.

Stars dotted the sky, veiled by thin gray clouds, with only a faint crescent moon remaining.

The dark night won, surging with the waves, painting half the sky in deep ink.

The unlit room grew darker, only the window holding faint light, both figures blurred in the dimness.

The phone played a random song, the trousers at her ankle finally fell, piling into a small heap, ointment-mixed water dripping from fingers to wrist, pooling on the floor.

“Teacher, control yourself,” Xu Fengluan said sternly, “The ointment’s gone.”

Despite her words, her dutiful facade, her fingers hooked, pressing a rough spot.

The woman in her arms couldn’t retort, confused—last night’s injuries were external, yet Xu Fengluan applied elsewhere.

Cool ointment and rough fingers intertwined, tugging at taut strings.

She might’ve urged escape, but there was none—she’d given herself to Xu Fengluan’s arms, her dangling legs powerless, like a cat exposing its belly, subject to cruel teasing.

A sudden shudder, her waist arching like a bow, the puddle on the floor spreading, glinting in the moonlight.

Xu Fengluan blinked innocently, saying, “Oops, need to reapply.”

Liu Tingsong, breathless, glared.

But Xu Fengluan played serious, advising, “Teacher Tingsong, behave.”

“I know you can’t,” she paused, recalling their daytime talk, lips curving, adding, “Especially with me, looking at me, you so easily…”

“High.”

The earlier words boomeranged back, the wicked puppy returning the embarrassment.

“But you should try to hold back, okay?”

Liu Tingsong’s response was to clutch her collar, kissing her to silence her chatter.

“Bad thing,” she muttered, half-angry, half-resentful.

“Bad dog,” still unsatisfied.

“Bad baby,” another powerless scolding.

The night deepened, the fiery clouds gone, leaving only stars and moon, the blue sea reflecting the sky.

Laughter passed on the nearby beach, footprints left in the sand, some quickly erased by waves.

Locked out, the Maine Coon played, then scampered to the feeder, staring eagerly. With a “beep,” kibble poured out, and it dove in, gobbling without piling up.

The medicine box fell, ointment coating fingers again, this time smoother, slipping in easily.

“Teacher, don’t hold back.”

Her unfinished words were drowned by other sounds, the clutched collar wrinkling further.