I really want to confess.

“What’s up?” Ming Shuyan sensed Ming Shuzhen had more to say.

Her eyes locked onto Ming Shuzhen, expectant.

But Ming Shuzhen only mumbled, lips parting slightly. “…Nothing. Bye, Boss.”

She pressed the elevator button, but Ming Shuyan’s long arm reached out, closing it again.

She voiced what Ming Shuzhen left unsaid. “Dinner tonight?”

They hadn’t seen each other in a week, and it seemed Ming Shuzhen missed her—enough to buy her a gift.

But the watch wasn’t because Ming Shuzhen missed her. She just wanted to spend that unearned money.

Explaining it would be a hassle.

She’d have to start with Ming Shuyan’s WeChat check-in, which left her dazed, causing her to drop her phone when a border collie and its chasing owner bumped into her.

The owner, generous, sent 10,000 yuan—more than enough for a new phone. She wouldn’t take it back, and since Ming Shuzhen recognized her as Ming Shuyan’s sister, she spent the extra on her.

So the watch was purely practical, not a lovesick gesture.

…

Ming Shuyan, taking the lead, invited her to dinner with a boss’s air.

Her eyes smoldered, wavy hair cascading like a waterfall under the elevator’s light.

When she spoke, her eyes sparkled faintly.

Everything about Ming Shuyan was perfect, Ming Shuzhen thought.

Hearing the invitation, her heart stirred.

Honestly, this week without seeing Ming Shuyan felt like the air lacked something.

She let out a quick “Mm,” barely audible, then nodded vigorously with a louder “Mm!”

Ming Shuyan, amused by her big reaction, nodded back instinctively. “Great!”

Ming Shuzhen blinked softly, feeling this confined space was perfect for clearing misunderstandings.

“So…” she chose her words, “colleagues keep mistaking our relationship. Our names are so similar, and they know you have sisters, so they think I’m one.”

“Then…” She watched Ming Shuyan’s neutral reaction, unsure if she should continue.

“I explained we’re not related, but they still assume. Could you… clarify it?”

Ming Shuyan watched her lips move. When she said they weren’t related, her heart sank.

Rushing back from her trip, she’d endured a tense dinner with government officials who sneered at her small business, their words laced with jabs. Then a family call—asking if she’d return for the holidays.

She wouldn’t. Ming Wuyi’s voice alone made her blood curdle, the air rancid.

Then a call from the mental hospital, muffled like the speaker had a rag in their mouth, yet she recognized it instantly—a voice from hell.

Patiently, she assured them she’d visit for the holidays, explaining her sisters abroad had no leave. By the end, she was near tears, cursing winter’s existence.

If there were no winter, spring wouldn’t stand out, nor would the falsely festive Lunar New Year.

Back at the company, she handled trip finances.

In a foul mood, she went to the fourth floor, watching the few employees play Candy Crush or watch dumb videos, wondering if she’d been too lax with this group.

Waiting until everyone arrived, pretending to work, she grew irritated.

So she snapped at Meilin about Group Two’s long breaks—past three, barely working before clocking out.

She was a businesswoman; how could she not care?

But… though she didn’t look at her arm, she felt the watch’s presence.

Cool at first, now warmed by her body.

It encircled her wrist like a wooden bridge over a frozen river.

Suddenly, winter wasn’t so aggravating.

Ming Shuyan, a stray, kept pulling herself up.

In high school, the radio station—thanks to a teacher’s push—gave her a voice, a step out of solitude.

That was when her values and worldview formed.

She was certain: without that self-rescue, her reclusive nature might’ve led to extremes.

No Red Brick, no poised self navigating any scene.

The second self-rescue was…

In the car, she’d sometimes zone out, picturing that smiling face.

Big, bright eyes, always shimmering.

No earrings, small ears. Moist lips, soft-looking, corners upturned even without a smile.

So lovely, so full of life.

Ming Shuyan wasn’t selfish. She knew someone as happy as Ming Shuzhen should follow a conventional path.

She couldn’t pursue her, express her feelings, or act beyond a boss’s role.

Back then, through the radio station’s window, she’d glimpsed another’s happiness. Just watching made her feel it too.

She could imagine herself in that world, full of joy.

Now, she didn’t need to peer out windows—she was self-sufficient. Yet seeing Ming Shuzhen sparked a responsibility to protect her happiness.

Even so, she longed to hold onto something, to prove that despite unloving parents and distant sisters, the world held reasons for her to exist.

But looking at Ming Shuzhen’s innocent face, she gave a wry smile.

Who was she to make Ming Shuzhen her redemption without consent?

Suppressing her emotions, she asked, “Does it affect you?”

“Not really.” Ming Shuzhen shook her head.

Nepotism was common; she wasn’t fussy about clearing it up.

Plus, her colleagues were great. Less capable than Group One, lacking workhorse zeal, but genuinely kind.

They didn’t fawn over her assumed connections, exclude her, or dismiss her work.

Seeing her shake her head, Ming Shuyan frowned. “If it’s no issue, clarifying might seem like overexplaining, no?”

“Right.” Ming Shuzhen scratched her head. “You think deeper, Boss.”

Ming Shuyan’s eyes darkened at the possibly flattering words.

“Being tied to me isn’t shameful, right?”

“What?” Ming Shuzhen waved her hands. “Of course not!”

“Oh, good.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but Ming Shuzhen swore Ming Shuyan sighed in relief.

She clicked her tongue. “But if this rumor spreads, won’t it affect you?”

*I’m kind of dumb—being your sister might embarrass you.*

“What effect?” Ming Shuyan glanced at her.

Ming Shuzhen voiced her fear of embarrassing her.

Ming Shuyan let out an “Uh.”

Her arms crossed, she unconsciously touched her new watch.

“Someone who got into Dongda—how’s that dumb?” she said softly.

Ming Shuzhen fell silent, watching her quietly.

So… no clarification, then?

As if confirming her thoughts, Ming Shuyan dropped the topic.

She tapped the elevator’s screen, and the doors opened.

“It’s three. Ever calculate your actual work hours?” Ming Shuyan teased, eyeing her.

Ming Shuzhen stepped out sheepishly.

She justified herself mentally: *Work hours? I’m at the company. Whether I’m slacking or napping on the fifth floor, it’s all company time—valid hours.*

Turning, she faced Ming Shuyan in the elevator.

“Uh, Boss, I’m off to work?” she tested.

Ming Shuyan tilted her head, chin up. “Maybe try another angle.”

“Hm?” Outside, Ming Shuzhen didn’t catch it, leaning forward.

Ming Shuyan glanced at her. “Being tied to me… might not be so bad. You could…”

She spread her hands, sleeve still up, watch glinting.

“Enjoy it.”

Her tone lifted, and Ming Shuzhen caught a rare playful edge.

Enjoy? Enjoy being seen as connected?

Puzzled, she wanted to ask more, but the doors closed.

She stared at them, lost in thought.

—

That evening, Ming Shuzhen drove to Ming Shuyan’s place, more familiar this time.

Slipping into green slippers warmed by a dryer, she smiled at the dog pattern.

“What’s funny?” Ming Shuyan, at the door, saw her smile and mirrored it faintly.

“Mm.” Head down, Ming Shuzhen’s voice was muffled. “The slippers are cute.”

She wouldn’t admit she was laughing at her past jealousy over the “pen, ink, inkstone, table” sisters… all good now.

Last visit, she’d been sulky, demanding answers.

The queer scene could be messy, and she hadn’t expected Ming Shuyan to play that game, juggling multiple partners.

Now, with misunderstandings cleared, back in these fresh slippers, her mood was bright.

Hearing her praise the slippers, Ming Shuyan’s expression softened.

She rarely shopped, too busy, no patience.

On a rare outing, she’d spotted these slippers.

They screamed Ming Shuzhen—her style would love them.

She hadn’t planned on Ming Shuzhen visiting, or any of this closeness.

She just thought they were nice, fitting, something Ming Shuzhen might like, so she bought them.

Her own form of self-rescue.

“Boss, you cooking tonight?” Ming Shuzhen asked, seeing her linger at the door.

“Oh.” Ming Shuyan snapped back. “Too late—let’s order takeout.”

She’d just returned from her trip, swamped with work, only now free.

Ming Shuzhen remembered this area’s delivery fees. Since she was in her home, she’d treat. “I’ll order.”

Ming Shuyan, seeing her grab her phone, beat her to it.

They sat on the couch, phone between them. “Pick what you want,” Ming Shuyan said.

Not wanting much, Ming Shuzhen chose a light set meal, glancing at her.

Ming Shuyan picked the same.

“You…” After ordering, idle, she fidgeted.

Ming Shuyan rubbed her hands, standing. “I’ll get you water.”

Ming Shuzhen, about to say she wasn’t thirsty—nighttime water caused puffiness—saw her move and stayed quiet.

A warm cup in hand felt grounding.

“Boss, I saw your sister yesterday,” Ming Shuzhen said, breaking the silence to avoid awkwardness.

“Hm?” Ming Shuyan returned with water, handing her the cup.

Steam rose, perfect for warming hands.

With so many sisters, she raised an eyebrow. “Which one?”

“Uh…” Ming Shuzhen mentally reviewed “pen, ink, inkstone, table.” “He Xiang?”

“Oh.” Ming Shuyan nodded, understanding. “She’s busy placating her girlfriend. Probably heading back to Hong Kong soon.”

“Oh, what?” Ming Shuzhen blinked.

She recalled Ming Shuyan saying she knew her own orientation. So… her sister too?

“Heh.” Ming Shuyan caught her complex expression. “How’d you meet?”

Ming Shuzhen recounted the collie, the phone, the 10,000 yuan, circling back to the watch.

Ming Shuyan’s face grew complicated, eyeing the glinting watch.

She hadn’t taken it off since Ming Shuzhen put it on, glancing at it during work.

It felt fulfilling.

But… bought just to spend extra money?

She gave Ming Shuzhen a resentful glance—short hair by her ears, big eyes like an elf’s.

The elf blinked, oblivious to her mood, and asked, “Boss, how did you… figure out your orientation?”

“No need to figure it out,” Ming Shuyan said, masking her feelings.

She glanced at the watch, its precise ticks audible as she rubbed it.

“Liking someone is natural, inevitable. Boy or girl, you feel it. After all…” She paused, thoughtful, then continued.

“If you like her, she’s special to you. Different. You know your emotions, your thoughts—open or with some physical desire—but they’re only for her.” She struggled to explain.

“Then you notice her gender. Male, female, human, dog—it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh…” Ming Shuzhen nodded slowly, dazed.

She already knew she liked Ming Shuyan.

She asked to confirm, deeply confirm, it wasn’t a whim, childish play, or chasing trends.

She really wanted to confess.

To tell Ming Shuyan: *I like you. You’re special. I feel this only for you.*

Especially knowing Ming Shuyan liked women too, her heart itched.

She *really* wanted to confess.

When takeout arrived, they ate at the table.

The living room lights blazed, brightening the room.

The light hit their food boxes. Ming Shuyan dimmed the main lights, leaving only small spotlights.

Shadows danced under the soft glow.

“I’ll drive you home after. I’ll pick you up tomorrow—leave your car here,” Ming Shuyan said, eating. “Night driving’s unsafe.”

Ming Shuzhen nodded; her skills weren’t polished.

After dinner, they lounged on the couch, flipping channels to kill time.

Their dynamic felt beyond boss-employee, tinged with an indescribable closeness.

Was it her impure feelings making her guilty, unable to face Ming Shuyan openly?

Sitting upright, facing the TV, her eyes slid sideways, sneaking glances.

Though uneasy, Ming Shuyan wasn’t much better—sitting so straight, competing for best posture?

Her lips were taut. Nervous?

Ming Shuzhen smirked. The boss liked her too, right?

If she confessed now, what were the odds of acceptance?

She’d have a girlfriend—so cool, capable, long lashes, fragrant hair, stern but probably soft to touch, maybe warm.

Like a cheetah, its brown tail swishing grass, stirring dust.

*Ugh, I want to stew her into soup.*

No confession yet, no sign of acceptance, but she was already fantasizing about a girlfriend.

She thought keeping her head forward hid her glances, until Ming Shuyan, exasperated, turned.

“Change the channel? This boring?” Ming Shuyan eyed her.

“What? It’s good!” Ming Shuzhen hadn’t even registered the show.

“Then…” Ming Shuyan almost said, *Why keep staring at me?* but felt too vain.

“Sleepy? Want me to drive you back?” she asked instead.

“No!” Ming Shuzhen blurted, not ready to leave.

Realizing it might be a polite nudge, she added, “Uh, Boss, you resting soon?”

Ming Shuyan shook her head. “I rest later.”

“Oh.” Ming Shuzhen gazed at her, eyes gleaming under the lights.

The look sent Ming Shuyan’s heart racing.

She grabbed a blanket, draping it over Ming Shuzhen’s legs. “Lean over, it’s comfier.”

Ming Shuzhen, delighted, relaxed. No more posture contest—her waist was tired.

She leaned in lightly, careful not to crush her.

“?” Ming Shuyan felt her lean close, chin brushing her hair, catching her shampoo’s scent.

Ming Shuzhen wasn’t slim—healthy, with a bit of softness.

Leaning together, warm and soft, Ming Shuyan felt a fireball against her.

Hot, thrilling, disorienting.

She’d meant the couch, but seeing Ming Shuzhen nestled close, she held back.

What a strange sensation—a fireball on her.

Was it her warmth, Ming Shuzhen’s, or both? The heated room made it feel like they’d burn each other away.

She’d never been this close to anyone. With others, she’d recoil—but with Ming Shuzhen, it was sweet.

Her heart itched. She inched her hand to Ming Shuzhen’s shoulder.

Ming Shuzhen was used to close contact with family and friends.

But this moment—heart pounding, ears burning.

No wine, yet drunk.

Ming Shuyan hesitated, then lightly brushed her ear.

Seeing no rejection, she playfully pinched it.

Ming Shuzhen sprang up, ears redder.

She glared.

Ming Shuyan feigned innocence. “Your ears are so red.”

Slumping back, Ming Shuzhen muttered, “It’s hot.”

“Oh.” Ming Shuyan’s lips curved.