A week before the business trip, a deceptive calm hung heavy in the air, much like the oppressive low pressure preceding a violent storm.
Lan Yucheng felt like a violin string pulled tauter and tighter, each fiber straining under the immense pressure, on the verge of snapping.
The more meticulously Su Yiyi arranged everything for her, and the more gently she promised to stay in daily contact, the more fiercely the violent, possessive urge—a feeling inextricably linked to Qing Xinxue—roared within Lan Yucheng.
She was like an addict on the precipice of withdrawal, greedily clinging to this final dose of ‘gentleness’ while simultaneously yearning for the familiar ‘pain’ that would confirm her very existence.
****
On the night before her departure, Su Yiyi was in the bedroom, packing her luggage.
The rustling sounds of her tidying seemed like countless insects gnawing at Lan Yucheng’s nerves. She sat in the shadows of the living room, watching the pale nape of Su Yiyi’s neck as she bent over—so fragile it seemed it might snap with a single touch.
A frantic thought blossomed in her mind: ‘If I leave a mark there, will she truly be unable to leave?’
Once this thought took root, it spread like wildfire.
That evening, Su Yiyi seemed intent on using physical affection to soothe Lan Yucheng’s anxieties of the past few days.
Su Yiyi’s kisses were feather-light, like a breeze across water, imbued with a cautious tenderness. She traced Lan Yucheng’s brow, her eyelashes, and finally lingered at the corners of her lips. Her arms gently encircled Lan Yucheng’s waist, and she buried her face in the crook of her neck, her warm breath caressing the skin, sending a subtle shiver through her.
Su Yiyi carried the faint, sweet scent of her bath, mingled with her unique, comforting warmth. It was a posture of complete surrender—soft, embracing, like a tranquil harbor ever ready to welcome a storm.
Ordinarily, Lan Yucheng might have succumbed to this gentle sea, allowing herself a brief respite. Tonight, however, the string of reason had long since tightened in silence, now dangerously close to breaking. The more compliant and considerate Su Yiyi became, the more that tenderness transformed into myriad fine needles, silently piercing Lan Yucheng’s taut nerves.
This gentleness was no longer the solace she craved; instead, it became a stark reminder—a warning that the owner of this embrace was about to leave, if only briefly, for a place beyond her reach. Even a separation of mere days, to Lan Yucheng in that moment, felt like a silent betrayal, unsettling a stubborn need for control deep within her heart.
Thus, when Su Yiyi tilted her head back again, her soft lips drawing near, Lan Yucheng’s suppressed dam burst catastrophically. She no longer passively received the kiss; instead, she responded with an almost savage intensity. It was no longer a lingering caress, but a desperate, anxious taking. The warmth vanished from their lips and teeth, replaced only by an urgent need to confirm existence. Her hands, too, became unruly, her knuckles grazing Su Yiyi’s slender back with uncontrolled force.
“Mmm…” A short gasp escaped Su Yiyi’s throat, her body stiffening slightly as clear astonishment and bewilderment flickered in her eyes. Yet, her long-accustomed forbearance led her, after that momentary rigidity, to try to lean in with even greater pliancy, to soothe, her voice trembling faintly with a whisper, “Yucheng… what’s wrong?”
This soft plea, almost an entreaty, ignited the turbulent, unexamined rage within Lan Yucheng’s chest like a sudden flame. A completely different figure abruptly crashed into her mind—that person never begged for mercy, their eyes would only burn with a fiercer fire, meeting her gaze defiantly, as if to consume them both.
“Don’t you dare go!”
A hoarse, broken growl burst from her lips, startling even Lan Yucheng herself with the despair and fury it contained.
The lingering sound of rain outside the window tapped against the glass, and the dim light outlined the tense curve of her profile, and those eyes that burned astonishingly bright in the darkness.
The air seemed to solidify. Su Yiyi gazed silently at the familiar yet strange face above her, alarm rippling in her eyes, while deeper within, a cold, slowly sinking pain took hold.
Su Yiyi was utterly stunned, and she began to struggle. “Yucheng! You’re hurting me! Let go!”
“Hurting?” Lan Yucheng chuckled softly, her laughter filled with twisted delight. “This is pain?”
She leaned down, her teeth viciously biting Su Yiyi’s collarbone and neck, leaving behind livid marks, as if to brand her with symbols of ownership.
“Don’t you know… the thought of you leaving hurts me even more here!” She seized Su Yiyi’s hand, forcing it to her left chest, over her heart, which was pounding wildly like a drum.
“You’re mine… Su Yiyi, you can only be mine!”
Her eyes gleamed with an almost insane light in the darkness, no longer showing her usual vulnerability or calculation, but completely dominated by a primal, destructive possessiveness.
“Who gave you permission to leave my sight? Who allowed you to go so far away alone?!”
Su Yiyi struggled, fear and a strange sense of excitement intertwining, making her tremble uncontrollably.
The Lan Yucheng before her was terrifyingly unfamiliar, yet she resonated strangely with a suppressed desire deep within Su Yiyi’s own heart.
This was not the girl she knew, the one who needed protection, but a dangerous predator, brimming with violent emotions.
“Answer me!”
Lan Yucheng roared, her fingers tightening, almost crushing Su Yiyi’s wrist.
The intense pain made Su Yiyi gasp, tears streaming uncontrollably from her eyes.
Yet, in this extreme pressure and agony, a dark, decadent sense of submission quietly blossomed.
She looked at the person above her, as if possessed by a demon, at those eyes burning with insane flames, and she actually stopped struggling.
“…I’m yours.”
Su Yiyi’s voice was tearful, yet remarkably clear. “I’m yours… Yucheng, I’m only going for a few days, I’ll be back soon…”
This compliant confession, imbued with a sense of belonging, struck Lan Yucheng like a bolt of lightning.
It did not quell her rage; instead, it plunged her into deeper confusion. This was not what she wanted! She desired resistance, struggle, something that would give her reason to inflict crueler punishment! Not this… this easy, complete surrender!
This surrender reminded her of Xiao Xue’s defiance, of that evenly matched, fervent intensity that reached its peak in pain. In contrast, Su Yiyi’s compliance seemed so cheap, so… uninteresting.
A vast emptiness and self-loathing instantly consumed her.
She abruptly released Su Yiyi, recoiling from her as if she had touched something foul, stumbling back to the foot of the bed and curling up. The earlier brutality and madness receded like a tide, leaving only cold exhaustion and bone-deep despair.
She had failed. Not only had she been unable to stop Su Yiyi, but she had also completely exposed her ugliest, most distorted self in front of her.
Even more terrifying, Su Yiyi had actually accepted her like this?
Su Yiyi’s wrist bore clear finger marks, and her body was covered with ambiguous traces. She sat up, looking at Lan Yucheng, who was trembling in the corner, as if instantly reverted to her original state. Her fear was replaced by a surging pity. She moved closer, attempting to embrace her again. “Yucheng, don’t be afraid, I…”
“Don’t touch me!” Lan Yucheng shrieked, batting her hand away, her voice filled with fear and revulsion—whether for Su Yiyi or for herself, it was unclear. “Get away!”
Su Yiyi’s hand froze in mid-air. Only their heavy, disordered breathing remained in the bedroom.
The illusion of tender affection was utterly shattered, revealing the bloody, grotesque truth beneath.
That string, finally, snapped.
Lan Yucheng buried her face deep into her knees. She knew that some things, once broken, could never be restored.
This game, played under the guise of ‘responsibility,’ had spiraled into an abyss even she could not have foreseen.
And her obsession with Qing Xinxue, after tonight’s uncontrolled, ugly outburst, became even sharper, like an ice pick piercing her heart, the only thing that could prove who she was.