Chapter 67

Her fingers curled into a fist before her brain could react.

Jiang Li snapped back to reality and, seeing Lu Chaohuan’s smiling, composed expression, guiltily opened her palm like a thief caught red-handed and placed it on her lap, not knowing who she was showing it to.

Stammering, Jiang Li refuted what Lu Chaohuan had just said. “N-No, nothing.”

Her verbal denial lacked conviction, let alone her flushed cheeks. Lu Chaohuan poked Jiang Li’s cheek with her fingertip, asking with feigned concern, “Why is Sister’s face so hot? Did I pass my illness to you?”

At those words, the skin under Lu Chaohuan’s fingertip burned even hotter. Jiang Li dodged Lu Chaohuan’s curious gaze evasively, not daring to respond.

Why is it red? Because you teased me until it was.

Jiang Li couldn’t say that out loud. Claiming it was contagion from the illness might worry Lu Chaohuan and make her sad. After much thought, evasion seemed her only option.

Play dead, don’t look at Lu Chaohuan, just get home.

Jiang Li steadied the person on her lap before letting go, placing both hands obediently at her sides on her own legs, leaving Lu Chaohuan with a pretty, flushed profile as she gazed out the window.

She looked determined not to acknowledge Lu Chaohuan’s little antics—clear-featured and aloof.

It was the look Lu Chaohuan hated most.

The person before her no longer watched her, no longer reacted emotionally to her actions, completely shutting her out of her world. Lu Chaohuan could never enter that heart.

A surge of possessiveness stirred in her depths, dark gloom flashing in her eyes. She wouldn’t allow Jiang Li to cast her aside like this. Absolutely not.

Lu Chaohuan’s vulnerability came out of nowhere.

She no longer clung to Jiang Li as tightly, but her lotus-root-like arms still wrapped around her stubbornly, like clinging to the web she had woven herself, refusing to let go.

“Sister can’t ignore me.” Lu Chaohuan buried herself in Jiang Li’s collarbone, rubbing her nose tip aggrievedly against the prominent, straight bone, like a puppy abandoned by its owner.

The action was utterly pitiful, yet her words remained domineering—relying on the feverish heat of her forehead pressed against Jiang Li’s cool collarbone to subtly assert her status as the patient.

She was the sick one; no matter what, Jiang Li would indulge her.

And sure enough, as Lu Chaohuan had anticipated, Jiang Li’s turned cheek shifted after her collarbone warmed, her chin brushing over Lu Chaohuan’s hair atop her head.

“I already said I won’t ignore you.”

Jiang Li noticed that the sick Lu Chaohuan had become exceptionally clingy. Clearly sitting on her lap, she still demanded all of Jiang Li’s attention.

Even a moment’s distraction prompted coquettish complaints.

But Jiang Li liked this dependence from Lu Chaohuan. The girl in her arms was soft, her gaze filled with infatuation. Jiang Li didn’t dare delve into the source of that infatuation, but the joy in her heart was undeniable.

She always indulged Lu Chaohuan. Even though her little sister had just seemed to use her hand to masturbate, Jiang Li felt no anger—only more embarrassment.

But voicing it would trample their moral roles underfoot.

She was Lu Chaohuan’s sister, after all.

How could she…

Jiang Li pulled the person in her arms closer, fearing she’d sense her thoughts. She proactively drew the one slipping toward her thigh back in, her hand stroking her hair soothingly again and again.

Her averted eyes held thoughts denser than the spiderweb on her body. Jiang Li suppressed them deep in her heart, reminding herself of her identity over and over.

Sister really hasn’t changed at all.

Pressed into the embrace, Lu Chaohuan gazed at the fragrant skin before her, rubbing her cheek lightly against it to steal a trace of coolness. Her eyes narrowed in delight.

The identity set by 123 was meant to torment her, yet it hadn’t anticipated her escape from those old men’s persistent harassment. Now, it gave her the chance to tease Jiang Li.

Remembering her true body still slumbering in her sea of consciousness, Lu Chaohuan frowned displeasedly, disdain flashing in her eyes.

Coward. She has at least a fragment of my split soul, yet she’s so foolish. She’s even installed surveillance at home, and watching Yun Chu and Jiang Li’s interactions these past few days doesn’t strike her as wrong.

Instead, the surveillance made her collapse from anger at her own body.

Lu Chaohuan felt no fondness for this “Lu Chaohuan,” but she had to admit that if not for her falling ill at the right moment, she wouldn’t have seized temporary control of this body so easily.

And finally met Jiang Li.

Lu Chaohuan softened her gaze, burrowing deeper into Jiang Li’s embrace. The shirt, already unbuttoned in the summer heat, was easily pressed by her movement, her high nose bridge squeezing into a place it shouldn’t touch.

Mm.

Jiang Li’s lower lip bit tight, her body stiffening. Her glance aside retracted uncontrollably, falling on Lu Chaohuan’s soft crown, still innocently rubbing away.

Her hair was silky, occasionally tickling her chin before—now drifting downward, her exhales growing hotter.

“Chao…huan.” The name squeezed painfully through clenched teeth, tone calm. Jiang Li placed her hand on Lu Chaohuan’s nape, trying to lift her up.

Lu Chaohuan wouldn’t cooperate.

Her high nose tip had already prodded there, inhaling the woman’s increasingly rich fragrance. Lu Chaohuan was a wolf starved of meat for a century—how could she easily abandon food delivered to her mouth?

Jiang Li gripped her nape several times, catching only strands of hair that rippled away; the rest was shaken off by Lu Chaohuan’s feigned discomfort, burying deeper instead.

The hot breaths continued nonstop, her coquettish whines in his ears one after another. Jiang Li’s head was pressed back against the seat by the restless crown, her hand still supporting the woman’s body.

If 123, focused on driving ahead, turned back, they’d probably curse Lu Chaohuan as a shameless bitch for bullying her like this—while selectively ignoring Jiang Li’s hand around Lu Chaohuan’s waist.

Breathing was difficult.

Her chest compressed by a head, layers of heat trapped in her arms, the car’s AC seemingly cut off by the two. Jiang Li couldn’t push the person away, yet needed to exhale the building frustration.

She tensed her thighs, leaned against the seatback for leverage, lifted her hips upward, and raised her chin to breathe while holding the rogue in her arms.

Her breathing was labored, but the one treating her embrace as a pillow was overjoyed.

Jiang Li’s collar was unbuttoned two due to stuffiness, barely revealing a hint—enough for Lu Chaohuan’s momentary thirst, but more remained veiled by the soft shirt fabric.

So fragrant, so soft.

With Jiang Li’s neck arched for air, Lu Chaohuan smoothly rubbed her cheek up, half her face burying into the shirt, intimately against the silk.

Lu Chaohuan!

Jiang Li wasn’t numb to sensation—every twist in her arms registered vividly. She’d only held her tighter, indulging her.

But! That wet swipe just now!

Her ear tips flushed crimson. Jiang Li no longer tolerated the inching rascal, pinching her nape and lifting her from her embrace like a kitten.

The person wasn’t happy to be lifted.

“Sister~” Coquettish like a kitten, her eyes shimmering with misty water, dazed and narrowed. She even reached out to caress Jiang Li’s neck, as if drunk.

This look was heart-meltingly vulnerable, her round eyes blinking, radiating charm.

Jiang Li held her at a distance, not letting her get too close. About to speak, she suddenly remembered 123 driving ahead and irritably pulled the just-pushed-away person back.

“What were you just doing?” Gritting out the words, Jiang Li eyed the one wriggling to burrow back, struggling not to slap her aside.

Pillow-resting could be excused as discomfort, breathing as needing air—but licking her tongue? What was that…

Even licking her…

Recalling the electric tingle that shot through, Jiang Li wanted to toss the innocent-feigning whiner aside, her hand at the waist twitching.

This little rascal Lu Chaohuan was so energetic; putting her aside wouldn’t hurt her.

The rascal on her lap still fidgeted restlessly. Jiang Li resolved, lifting her and pinching her waist to set her on the adjacent seat.

But Lu Chaohuan, seeing herself about to be shoved off, twisted and followed Jiang Li’s recline—clinging like a koala, even pulling her down.

With her legs.

“Mm!” The world spun. Jiang Li had meant to shift Lu Chaohuan aside, but Lu Chaohuan hooked her neck and waist, yanking her down. Losing control, she panicked. “Lu Chaohuan!”

The startled female voice from the back seat and rustling clothes reached upfront. 123 stopped at a red light and whipped around instantly.

One glance, and the pretty face twisted.

“Fuck!”

“Turn around.” Jiang Li’s voice was icy.

123 turned back, fingers drumming happily on the wheel, grin widening. That quick peek had etched the backseat scene in its mind.

So what if the vicious woman snapped at it? Now she was pinned under Jiang Li, hahaha. Pear Pear Baby’s hand hadn’t even touched the bitch.

123 had seen the right hand untouched, but ignored the left intimately cushioning Lu Chaohuan’s head.

Jiang Li stared at the one who’d forcibly dragged her down. Had she not steadied herself in panic, they’d have tumbled together. Frowning, she opened her mouth. “You…”

“It’s all Sister’s fault for trying to move me away.”

The victim was blaming her first.

Lu Chaohuan was righteous, her legs locked behind Jiang Li’s waist tightening stealthily, her lifted eyes full of reproach toward Jiang Li.

Seeing Jiang Li silent, Lu Chaohuan grew bolder, arms hugging tight, weakly nestling her cheek against the lowered embrace.

Fragrant and soft hold, woman’s scent enveloping her—burying there felt utterly relaxed, the fragrance at her nose intoxicating.

Voice lowered to a whisper only Jiang Li could hear, Lu Chaohuan lifted her lids innocently. “Sorry, Sister. It was my fault.”

Hm? The little rascal admitting fault? Jiang Li had thought she’d shamelessly deny it.

Jiang Li shifted her gaze to Lu Chaohuan, spotting the cunning in her eyes and sensing trouble. She reached to cover her mouth but had no spare hand.

One cushioned Lu Chaohuan’s head, the other propped to avoid crushing her.

Jiang Li hurriedly spoke: “Don’t…”

Her block was futile against Lu Chaohuan’s mischief.

Lifting up, Lu Chaohuan “apologetically” murmured by Jiang Li’s ear, full of remorse—if not for the content being what Jiang Li desperately hid, it might have moved her.

“My mistake was accidentally licking,” she paused, feeling the waist beneath tighten rigid. Lu Chaohuan chuckled lowly by the reddened ear tip, continuing, “Sister’s bra.”

Whoosh—her entire body flushed shrimp-red. Jiang Li exhaled in relief at Lu Chaohuan’s words.

Luckily, luckily she hadn’t said…

She definitely hadn’t misfelt it. Her carefully wrapped nipple doused by hot wetness—how could she?

Direct versus indirect contact; Jiang Li evasively chose indirect, mind foggy, convincing herself Lu Chaohuan hadn’t touched.

Sister’s so easy to fool.

Jiang Li’s tensing and relaxing was obvious. Lu Chaohuan laughed aloud in her embrace, chest quaking. Recalling it, her little tongue lingered, sliding over her lips.

Where was it the bra? How could she mistake that for a bra?

Satisfaction flickered in her darkened eyes. Tongue flicking her palate, Lu Chaohuan—long deprived—trembled at the instant contact.

“Get up. Sit properly.”

Her waist ached with heaviness. Jiang Li refocused, suddenly aware of their overly intimate position—Lu Chaohuan’s legs wrapped so tight, no wonder it hurt.

But compared to the subtle ache, she wanted her words to mask her racing heartbeat.

Can’t let Lu Chaohuan hear.

Following instinct, heedless if Lu Chaohuan heard, Jiang Li gritted her teeth, pulled her head back, sat up straight.

As for the legs on her waist, her palm just touched before the heat scorched it away. Daring not touch again, she fixed her eyes on Lu Chaohuan, warning her silently to release.

Ear tips crimson, face annoyed—it was obvious. Mindful of tonight’s feast, Lu Chaohuan obediently withdrew her legs, utterly still the rest of the way.

Jiang Li vowed that one more overstep and she’d shove her aside—but Lu Chaohuan behaved perfectly, doing nothing.

Wary of more antics, Jiang Li found Lu Chaohuan relaxed, even leaning on her shoulder asleep by home—such a good pose.

The one in her arms slept obediently. Jiang Li felt the feather-light weight on her hand, scrutinizing her.

Her face was gaunt, chin sharp and painful against her shoulder. Already thin, she’d inexplicably lost more weight despite good food at school this week.

Holding her felt all bones.

Fine, she’ll raise her herself.

Frowning, Jiang Li decided to drag her home. She’d fatten this skeleton; pick her up for gatherings, wait for her on projects.

No letting her back to the dorm until fully recovered.

Just a week apart, and Lu Chaohuan burned with fever. Jiang Li dreaded a month—her task might end if Lu Chaohuan collapsed.

Car in the basement, Lu Chaohuan still slept deeply, breathing steadily against her shoulder.

Seeing the sweetly sleeping flushed face, Jiang Li pursed her lips, trying to lift her—effortlessly.

Jiang Li guessed her body had a fitness routine; otherwise, hoisting Lu Chaohuan wouldn’t be so easy.

With a look, she signaled 123 to retrieve Yun Chu’s body elsewhere, cradling Lu Chaohuan home.

She breathed evenly, fearing she’d wake en route. Luckily, she only scratched a nail mark on Jiang Li’s neck when placed on the bed.

Neck stinging, Jiang Li ignored it, tucking blankets tight around her and pressing a cooling patch to her forehead.

Sleeping Lu Chaohuan was so good.

Fingertips gently smoothed forehead strands. Jiang Li watched her peacefully slumbering, complex emotions flickering—for Lu Chaohuan, and for them both.

Vaguely, from today’s behaviors, Jiang Li sensed emotion not typical of sisters.

Did Lu Chaohuan… have feelings for her? No… Fingertips tightened. Recalling the car, another possibility emerged.

Jiang Li thought: Or desire fits better.

But instinctively, she rejected the second. Seeing Lu Chaohuan’s young face, if true, she’d feel like an old cow nibbling tender grass.

She was years older, after all.

Plus, their sisterly bond gave her a headache. How to explain to Aunt and Dad? Promised sisters, now together?

No, impossible.

Jiang Li remembered her nominal girlfriend, Yun Chu—task incomplete, still bound. Who knew how long…

Thoughts wandered. Long after, realization dawned; stroking paused. Panicking, she bolted upright, dashed out, slamming her door shut.

Her flustered exit missed the one behind slowly opening clear eyes—no sleepiness.

Back against her door, Jiang Li’s face burned, palm over cheeks, eyes peeking through fingers flashing shame.

Teased lightly today, she’d reacted to Lu Chaohuan, even fantasizing futures together post-home.

God, she’s her sister.

Shamefully covering her face—Lu Chaohuan’s sole excess was true contact with her nipple.

No fabric barrier.

Just that, and Jiang Li imagined them together.

Lu Chaohuan hadn’t confessed, yet she’d overthought… Jiang Li quashed her ideas, standing.

Glancing down, her shirt’s buttons—rubbed open by Lu Chaohuan—were rumpled.

Minor issue. Fingers deftly undid the rest; exquisite lace butterflies fluttered free with her movements, revealing her straight, snow-white back.

Perhaps illusion, but the shirt reeked of Lu Chaohuan—rubbed in the car, in the room… all hers.

Her shirt, yet scented with Lu Chaohuan.

Jiang Li tossed it on the bed. Snowy skin retained pure black lace, thin straps on shoulders contracting fragilely.

Stirring destructive urges in the viewer.

Lu Chaohuan clutched her tablet, black mist roiling in her eyes, flush un faded—rising with her owner’s lip licks, heating the air.

Want to lick, bite. Her fangs itched uncontrollably, lips parched and licking again.

Another turn—the black-lace-wrapped white flashed before her. Fingers pinched to zoom unhesitatingly, screen filled with black-and-white extreme.

The contrast filled her pupils.

She wanted to rush next door, pin Jiang Li to bed, suck.

Fingertip tapped screen; she wished to pierce through—powerless.

Endure. Tonight, she could taste the milky fragrance long untasted.

Self-soothing, eyes on the near-spilling white, one hand slipped under covers.

Muffled water sounds. Lu Chaohuan’s eyes narrowed, hazy with lust.

Sister, want Sister so bad.