Milk, Dreams, and Discomfort

Scrubbing furiously, she rubbed with all her might.

The cheap fragrance of the laundry detergent mixed with the steam from the hot water, stinging Xiang Qing’s eyes until they watered. She felt as if she wasn’t washing clothes, but destroying evidence.

Every single item, from T-shirts to socks, had to pass through the ‘judgment’ of her hands, ensuring that any ‘evidence of guilt’ that might catch Shen Lanzhi’s eye was thoroughly eradicated.

Finally, as the last drop of water fell from the wrung-out garments, Xiang Qing felt as though her very soul had been wrung dry along with them.

She piled the steaming hot clothes back into the basket, holding it as if it were a burning hot potato.

Now, the pressing question was: what to do with these soaking wet clothes?

She couldn’t possibly leave them to dry in the bathroom overnight, could she? What if Shen Lanzhi needed to use the bathroom tomorrow…? Xiang Qing shuddered at the thought of such a scenario.

She opened the bathroom door just a crack, pressing her ear to the wood, trying to catch any sound from the living room. Silence reigned.

Standing on tiptoes, she clutched the laundry basket, inching out of the bathroom like a sapper infiltrating enemy territory.

The living room lights were dimmed, with only a small lamp above the bar counter casting a soft glow. Shen Lanzhi was nowhere in sight. Where had she gone?

Xiang Qing dared not linger on the thought, her objective clear: the balcony.

Gu Wei’s penthouse apartment boasted a balcony so vast it could host a barbecue party, making it more than spacious enough to air a few clothes.

She sprinted to the balcony at a hundred-meter dash pace, fumbling to shake out each item of clothing and hang them on the drying rack.

The night breeze swept through, gently swaying the damp garments.

Done.

Just as Xiang Qing exhaled in relief, a faint click echoed behind her. It was the sound of a bedroom door opening. She froze, rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle.

Soft footsteps emerged from the direction of the bedroom, pausing in the center of the living room.

“Xiao Qing?” Shen Lanzhi’s voice, still as gentle as ever, cut through the spacious living room with striking clarity. “Are you done washing? Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Ah… I’m, I’m not sleepy yet. I just came out for some fresh air,” Xiang Qing turned around, plastering on a practiced smile. “I was a bit warm after my shower.”

Shen Lanzhi stood shrouded in shadow, her expression unreadable.

“Is that so? I thought perhaps you were disposing of something unspeakable.”

Xiang Qing’s heart gave a violent lurch. “How could you say that, Sister Lanzhi? You’re such a joker.”

She let out a dry laugh, subtly inching towards her bedroom. “Well, I’m heading back to my room now. Goodnight, Sister Lanzhi.”

She practically fled back to her bedroom, locking the door behind her, and leaned against it, panting heavily.

It was terrifying. That woman.

Xiang Qing collapsed onto the soft, sprawling bed, pulling the duvet over her head. Safe. At least for tonight.

Her mind, however, refused to grant her peace. In her dream, she stood in a pristine white space, with the familiar laundry basket placed squarely in the center.

Shen Lanzhi, clad in a plain white gown, slowly approached the basket. She didn’t take a picture; instead, she bent down and retrieved one of Xiang Qing’s T-shirts from the basket – the very one reeking of hotpot and disinfectant.

Then, she buried her face deep into the fabric. Her posture was one of utter intoxication, almost demonic, as if she were inhaling some earthly treasure.

When she lifted her head, her face was flushed with a strange, unsettling contentment. “Xiao Qing’s scent...”

Xiang Qing jolted awake from her dream, her heart pounding frantically in her chest. Daylight had broken, with morning rays filtering through the gaps in the curtains.

She touched her face, her palm slick with cold sweat. That dream… it had been too vivid, so real that she could almost still smell Shen Lanzhi’s unique fragrance, a blend of perfume and traditional Chinese medicine.

Damn it! She vigorously shook her head, trying to dislodge those absurd images. It was all a hallucination, just too much stress. Shen Lanzhi had only taken a photo; she couldn’t be ‘that’ twisted, could she?

A tantalizing aroma of food wafted in from beyond the door – the scent of fried eggs and toasted bread. Her stomach, at the most inopportune moment, rumbled.

Xiang Qing reluctantly dragged herself out of bed, got dressed, and after several seconds of mental preparation, finally mustered the courage to open her bedroom door.

By the dining table, Shen Lanzhi had already prepared everything. Millet porridge simmered warmly in a pot, golden ‘sunny-side up’ eggs rested on plates, accompanied by lightly toasted bread and a small dish of fruit salad.

Shen Lanzhi, dressed in beige loungewear, her long hair loosely tied back, was gracefully sipping her porridge.

Were it not for her past experiences and that dreadful nightmare, Xiang Qing might almost believe she truly had the best sister in the world.

“Awake?” Shen Lanzhi looked up, offering her a flawless smile. “Come quickly and have breakfast, I’ve warmed a cup of milk for you.”

“Okay.” Xiang Qing stiffly took a seat opposite her, picking up the warm cup of milk.

The atmosphere felt somewhat frozen. Xiang Qing dared not meet her gaze, instead lowering her head and gulping down her milk, attempting to mask her discomfort with the act of swallowing.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Shen Lanzhi’s voice gently inquired.

“Pfft—!”

The large mouthful of milk Xiang Qing had just taken instantly shot out of her mouth in a reflexive spray the moment she heard the question.

A perfect parabola, it arced over the dining table, precisely covering Shen Lanzhi’s impeccable face and the delicate sunny-side up egg on the plate before her.

Time seemed to halt at that moment. Milk dripped down Shen Lanzhi’s cheeks, falling onto her beige loungewear and leaving a milky stain.

A few beads of milk clung to her long eyelashes, trembling slightly with each blink.

‘I’m dead.’ Xiang Qing’s mind was consumed by those two words. This time, it was a physical assault.

“I… I’m so sorry! Sister Lanzhi, I’m truly sorry! I didn’t mean to! I just… I choked! Really!”

Xiang Qing was utterly flustered, scrambling to her feet and nearly knocking over her chair.

Shen Lanzhi said nothing. She simply gazed at Xiang Qing in silence, her eyes, usually brimming with a gentle smile, now devoid of any emotion. This was far more terrifying than any outburst of anger.

“You… don’t move! I’ll get some tissues! Right away!”

Xiang Qing felt her tongue tie itself in knots as she spun around and bolted towards the living room, frantically pulling a large handful of tissues from the box on the coffee table.

In the very instant she turned, her peripheral vision caught a sight that would be etched into her memory for a lifetime. She dared not look back, yet she had seen it.

Instead of immediately wiping the milk from her face, Shen Lanzhi extended the tip of her tongue and delicately licked away a drop of milk from her lips. Then, she lowered her gaze to the sunny-side up egg on her plate, which had been splattered with milk, and with a fork, precisely cut off a small piece coated in both milk and yolk, placing it into her mouth.

The entire sequence of movements was swift, fluid, and possessed an undeniable… enjoyment?

Xiang Qing’s steps faltered, the tissues in her hand scattering across the floor. She stood frozen in the corner for a full half-minute, feeling as though an eternity had passed.

‘No, I can’t stay here. I have to go back and pretend nothing happened. This is the survival rule for adults. As long as I’m not embarrassed, others will be. As long as I didn’t see it, it didn’t happen.’

She stooped to pick up a few tissues, took a deep breath – a failed attempt that almost made her choke – then plastered on an apologetic smile, uglier than a grimace, and walked back.

“Here, here, Sister Lanzhi! Let me help you wipe that!”

By the time she returned to the dining table, Shen Lanzhi had already, unhurriedly, wiped her face clean with her own napkin and was now calmly attending to the remaining food on her plate.

“No need,” Shen Lanzhi looked up at her, her face once again adopting that gentle, harmless expression, though her tone carried an undeniable, matter-of-fact disdain. “Sit down and eat. Be more careful when you drink next time.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll definitely be careful!” Xiang Qing nodded furiously, like a pestle pounding garlic, and returned to her seat, though she no longer possessed the courage to look at the person across from her.

She kept her head down, mechanically stuffing bread into her mouth.

“Why aren’t you drinking your milk?” Shen Lanzhi’s voice drifted over, soft and ethereal.

Xiang Qing’s body stiffened. “Ah… I’m full.”

“Is that so?” Shen Lanzhi’s tone held a hint of amusement. “But I specifically added extra sugar to today’s milk; it’s very sweet.”

Xiang Qing felt her stomach begin to twist in knots once more.