Her breathing hitched.
Lu Jia hadn’t even had time to respond when the woman spoke again: “…Forget I said that.”
Her usually straightforward thoughts suddenly cleared, and she instantly understood the meaning behind Sheng Shubai’s words.
“Missing.”
Lu Jia released the door handle and turned toward the woman on the sofa. They only locked eyes for a moment before Sheng Shubai looked away.
She seized the moment, not giving Sheng Shubai a chance to back out: “Miss Sheng, I’m missing inspiration.”
Sheng Shubai remained silent.
Her gaze dropped to the floor, but in her peripheral vision, a figure appeared.
From a pair of ankles clad only in pure white short socks, up to slender, well-proportioned calves. She knew Lu Jia was approaching step by step, entering the line of sight she’d tried to avoid but couldn’t escape.
Sheng Shubai heard every footstep clearly.
The girl had rushed over after answering her question, not even bothering to put on slippers.
She didn’t respond—silence was the best answer.
Lu Jia, who had suddenly gained clarity, understood this too.
Her backpack was already discarded at the entryway, her coat draped over the sofa’s backrest. The beige, long knit sweater was soft and lightweight, accentuating her curves beautifully.
No idea where she’d picked up such a bad habit—dressing so lightly in deep winter, planning to head out in just a coat.
No matter how young and vigorous, one couldn’t withstand such neglect, Sheng Shubai thought.
Naturally, Lu Jia had no idea what was going through her mind. She sat down beside the woman; the indoor heating was comfortably warm.
Tentatively, she grasped those slender fingers, which were still as cool as ever.
The fingertips twitched slightly but didn’t pull away.
Lu Jia gripped tighter, her palm enveloping them familiarly as she spoke in a tone laced with pleading: “Miss Sheng, I’m really lacking inspiration.”
They’d done this many times before; she didn’t believe the woman didn’t understand.
Finally, their eyes met.
Lu Jia held her heartbeat in check, her gaze toward Sheng Shubai still clear and pure.
Just like every previous time they’d done that, her eyes were soft and bright. As if all the entanglement was solely for inspiration—this young student, single-minded in her pursuit of art, was innocent and untainted by any improper thoughts.
Her voice was soft, her tone earnest.
It even carried a hint of pitiful vulnerability she’d never heard before, as if deliberately trying to evoke pity.
Yet it stirred a twinge of imbalance and irritation in Sheng Shubai.
They’d done it so many times, yet this person before her remained utterly unmoved, even able to fall for another woman.
Falling so hard that she wouldn’t even hide it from her, ending the contract outright.
And now, out of inspiration, she wanted to pick it back up—what was this?
Her lashes lowered slightly as she followed Lu Jia’s pull, her fingertips pressing against the hem of the knit sweater. Easily, she hooked up one side, revealing a stretch of soft waist and abdomen.
The familiar, beautiful sight.
As Sheng Shubai’s hand stroked upward, she applied a bit of pressure.
The subtle rise and fall of breathing pressed against her fingertips, with no hint of resistance.
Sheng Shubai heard her own satisfied soft chuckle.
Then, enunciating each word, she said: “Take it off.”
Once the first inch gave way, emotions flooded past reason like a breached dam.
They hadn’t tried it in the daytime before.
No need to go to the bedroom; the sofa was spacious enough—at least for a slender twenty-something girl lying down, plus a long-haired woman kneeling between her knees, bending forward.
The unlit lamps and the dimming light seeping into the living room together dyed the atmosphere ambiguous and alluring.
Outside the window, a drizzling rain began to fall.
The pale, tender fruit was peeled utterly bare.
From her neck to her collarbone, Lu Jia could no longer tell how many marks had been left.
Unlike past times when she’d begged the woman to be a bit rougher, this time the teeth pressed directly into the delicate skin, harder than the occasional drunken bites.
Yet Sheng Shubai still wore her proper loungewear. Only when she’d bent down earlier did water stains dampen her lips, and now fine sweat moistened her temples.
One wave of peaking pleasure subsided.
Lu Jia’s eyes half-closed as she belatedly noticed the stark contrast between them.
A thought arose. Her hand on the side waist slipped under the hem of the sleepwear, touching the droplet-shaped fullness gathered there.
In mere seconds, her wrist was caught, pinned above her head with ease.
Her left hand was still free, but Lu Jia didn’t dare move.
Because she met Sheng Shubai’s gaze—darker than the sky outside.
The woman leaned in closer, her breath nearly brushing Lu Jia’s earlobe, teasing an unbearable itch. Her other hand halted the kneading motion.
Lu Jia was in that frustrating in-between state and instinctively shifted her knee, but it didn’t help retain it.
Instead, she felt the hand trail upward until it rested at her collarbone, then the woman straightened up.
Sheng Shubai raised her hand, undoing the perfectly fastened buttons of her sleepwear.
Her fingertips, glistening with a sheen of moisture, slid over them one by one, right in front of Lu Jia, unfastening them effortlessly.
In just a few breaths, it parted, slipped down, pooling at her waist.
Perfectly proportioned, every inch flawless and beautiful—Lu Jia stared almost dazedly until…
“Aren’t you fond of it?”
Sheng Shubai gathered her long hair and leaned forward, positioning herself just right for a kiss.
She let the girl have her fill, her palm sliding downward, now even smoother than before.
Sheng Shubai lowered her eyes slightly, a silent smile curving her lips.
Just before her fingertips delved in, she kissed the girl’s earlobe, grinding against it tenderly like a lover, murmuring: “Lu Jia, I’m not anyone’s third.”
Before Lu Jia got together with that sweetheart of hers, Sheng Shubai was more than happy to keep providing inspiration, anytime, anywhere.
No strings attached, yet still getting to do it—what could be better?
Sheng Shubai thought she’d truly gone mad.
–
She’d never been this reckless before.
By the time they dragged themselves from the living room to the bedroom and finally collapsed, Lu Jia endured the soreness in her waist and propped herself up to check the wooden clock on the nightstand.
It was already seven in the evening.
No wonder the light filtering through the curtains wasn’t daylight but the warm-toned glow of night city lights.
No wonder… she was so exhausted she could barely get up.
From two in the afternoon until now— a full five hours.
It had been a while since they’d done this, and self-relief alone couldn’t compare in duration.
Even with thorough preparation beforehand, Lu Jia still felt aches not just in her waist and legs, but elsewhere too.
She pressed her waist again and looked up at the woman entering the bedroom with a glass of water. Obediently, she took the cup and said thanks.
Her voice came out hoarse.
Lu Jia coughed lightly, sipped the water uncomfortably, and avoided Sheng Shubai’s gaze.
She remembered clearly—it was she who’d started it.
Proactively saying she lacked inspiration, proactively sidling up to hold Sheng Shubai’s hand, lifting her own sweater hem.
And on the sofa, proactively… begging her.
She’d begged before, but this time was different.
They no longer had that contractual relationship; Sheng Shubai had no obligation to help her anymore.
Lu Jia wasn’t sure if, after sobering up post-climax, the woman regretted it or would still be willing… to sign a new contract with her.
That line—”I’m not anyone’s third”—had been crystal clear amid the passion.
Her hand on the woman’s back had stiffened instantly; she’d wanted to ask what it meant, but the invading fingertips scattered her thoughts.
Even now, she hadn’t found the chance to bring it up.
In her over twenty years of life, only one spot had been carved out in her wooden heart—where was there room for anyone else?
But she didn’t dare explain, nor could she.
She glanced at the steam rising from the warm water on the cup’s rim, then set the half-full glass on the nightstand.
Then, another person slipped under the covers.
Sheng Shubai hugged her, still twirling a lock of her hair around her fingertip.
“Miss Sheng.”
Lu Jia finally spoke: “You… does that mean you agree?”
Sheng Shubai gazed at her quietly for a few seconds before asking: “Five hours—you seven times, me four. All for nothing?”
Stifled by the woman’s words, Lu Jia pursed her lips: “N-No, not for nothing.”
Sheng Shubai fell silent then. Seeing Lu Jia close her eyes contentedly after getting her answer, she adjusted their position to let the girl nestle more comfortably.
Fresh from their intimacy, she needed time to think.
She admitted she’d hesitated.
Even right after, when she’d used fetching water as an excuse to leave the bedroom, her first instinct was regret.
Regret for not holding firm like a mountain, partly spurred by that surge of irritation.
She knew her own attitude toward Lu Jia.
Compared to that vague fondness in her heart, possessiveness seemed even stronger.
The entire afternoon’s indulgence—from initial dissatisfaction, to a near-resigned whatever, to finally reliving every past encounter with Lu Jia in vivid detail.
That line about not being a third was her final stand.
Let Lu Jia like whoever she wanted; as long as they could maintain this, without responsibilities to each other.
She couldn’t ask for more.
The phone rang, snapping Sheng Shubai back.
She knew Lu Jia wasn’t asleep—this kid’s schedule was always healthy; no matter how tired, she wouldn’t crash at seven p.m.
She answered on speaker: two online food orders had arrived together.
“Miss Sheng, what did you order?”
Lu Jia shifted, her lips brushing the collarbone, then lower to the soft upper edge.
“Dinner.”
Sheng Shubai held her still. “And some ointment—for later.”
She’d touched her herself; of course she knew it was swollen.
Lu Jia murmured an “oh” and didn’t refuse.
They’d seen each other countless times, kissed who-knows-how-many; what was a little ointment?
She recalled their first official contract signing—there’d been ointment then too.
Lu Jia remembered: she’d bought it herself and applied it herself.
Sheng Shubai had even retreated to the study when applying it. Of course, now if Sheng Shubai asked for help, she’d be thrilled.
Deep winter—even with insulated bags, the chill seeped in.
Sheng Shubai lay there only two minutes before getting up to answer the door, but the log in her arms wouldn’t let go, whining softly about her sore waist.
Her stamina had dropped this much; she must’ve skipped the gym. Sheng Shubai’s hand slid down to the abs on her lower belly—indeed, not as defined as before.
She chuckled lightly and poked: “What, slacking off?”
Lu Jia nodded honestly: “I figured I wouldn’t need it anymore, so I stopped.”
Compared to gym time, she’d spent every recent day glued to the studio, wishing for forty-eight hours. No time for workouts.
But she’d gotten a yearly membership; starting tomorrow… no, the day after, she could resume—and go more often.
It wouldn’t be easy to get back to peak form quickly, so Lu Jia planned to hire a personal trainer sister.
After all, besides her hands, Sheng Shubai loved using her waist and abs most—even more than her lips and tongue.
The words had barely left her mouth when the hand on her lower belly began teasing again, light as a feather.
“Hire a personal trainer?”
Sheng Shubai leaned in close, her beautiful eyes sparkling with amusement in the warm light, though her hand didn’t lighten up: “Why not me? No charge.”
Lu Jia swallowed, her gaze fixed on those full, rosy lips, resisting the urge to kiss them.
No charge—then… what would she charge?
