“Ah!” Yinian cried out in alarm. “Wh-Where are you going?”
“To satisfy you,” the cool voice replied, fanning the flames of desire without a hint of emotion.
Yinian gradually remembered the ignored comment Shen Ruoshuang had made: “Should I carry you there?”
Is she… is she really going to carry me to find Qin Jiashu?!
In her drunken state, Yinian believed whatever anyone told her. She tightened her grip on Shen Ruoshuang’s arms, refusing to let go. Her voice turned into a soft, messy puddle, filled with an anxious, nasal whine.
“I’m not looking for her… Don’t go, please.”
Shen Ruoshuang’s hand on her back had already reached for the dormitory door handle. With a crisp click, the door cracked open.
Looking out into the hallway lined with dorm rooms, Yinian was so tense she thought she could hear people approaching from the distance.
“I only want you, I don’t want anyone else…”
Terrified that someone outside might hear, Yinian pressed her cheek against Shen Ruoshuang’s neck, nuzzling and rubbing against her in a disorganized, pleading manner. It was like a murmur, as if she were being pulled into a trap by the sheer weight of her own words.
“Say my name.”
Shen Ruoshuang wondered if Yinian was like this when she was sober—well-behaved one moment, then sweetly and softly seeking out others the next, pleasing them in the same way. It felt as if only by hearing the girl utter her name could these words be truly branded as her own exclusive territory.
The first time she had asked Yinian who she was, the girl had evaded her. This time, her tone was increasingly urgent and stubborn, demanding a response.
“Shen… Shen Ruoshuang.”
The fragmented notes of desire were mixed into the syllables—the only firm answer in her state of lost confusion. The name slipped out instinctively under Shen Ruoshuang’s guidance.
The sound of the door closing shut out all external noise and the thickening, ambiguous air.
She was placed back down, straddling Shen Ruoshuang’s lap. Over and over, Shen Ruoshuang whispered in her ear, questioning and guiding her, using this pitiable, lowly method to hear the answer she craved.
The camera was installed on Xu Yinian’s desk. The field of vision was limited; it was mostly used to judge what they were doing through sound.
The audio of the live stream echoed inside the car through a phone sitting on the passenger seat.
“You don’t like it? If you don’t like it, why are you trembling so hard?”
The girl’s strained, intermittent voice followed: “N-No, it’s not that I don’t like it… You clearly know…”
Indeed, in a place neither Xu Yinian nor Shen Ruoshuang noticed, a third person had been voyeuristically watching everything from start to finish.
The driver had already left at Bai Ran’s request. Bai Ran stared straight ahead, her pale fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard they turned white. She slammed the accelerator to the floor, the Maybach hurtling through the empty night streets.
The fierce, freezing wind howled and clawed its way through the half-open window. The cold air filled her chest in an instant, feeling like a dagger’s slow torture. Even her heart throbbed with spasms of pain.
She knew the pain wasn’t caused by the cold wind. She had only opened the window and exposed herself to the freezing air to mask the metallic taste of blood rising in her throat, using the shock to maintain a sliver of sanity amidst her episode.
She forcibly sped through several yellow lights just before they turned red, but she was eventually blocked by a slow-moving car at the final intersection.
Bai Ran resisted the urge to ram into the car’s rear and slammed on her brakes. Her chest, which had felt like it was being ripped apart by the wind, heaved violently. Her eyes, fixed on the phone, were a dark, predatory red, looking even more sinister under the glow of the red taillights ahead.
A drunken Xu Yinian, with her drastically changed personality, was like a lamb that had delivered itself straight into a wolf’s mouth. If Bai Ran arrived even a minute late, there might not even be crumbs left.
Compared to the scripted plots in the recording studio, this was a “cuckolding” experience in the truest sense.
On her frantic drive back, she found herself unable to stop this perverse monitoring, even feeling a physical reaction to the sound of Xu Yinian’s breathing.
“…Disgusting.”
She closed her eyes, two words escaping her throat with a mocking, crazed edge. But this time, she wasn’t mocking Shen Ruoshuang—she was mocking herself.
Setting aside those unspeakable methods, it was clear that she was the one completely under Xu Yinian’s thumb.
Back in the room, Xu Yinian had been placed on Shen Ruoshuang’s lap. Sitting face-to-face, she could see the sparks of intensity exploding in the other woman’s eyes due to their posture.
She felt dazed and a bit strange, but Shen Ruoshuang seemed very satisfied, praising her for being a “good girl” and offering her “rewards.” Thus, Yinian stopped feeling that anything was amiss and nestled contentedly in her arms.
Shen Ruoshuang tirelessly made her call out her name. The more she was forced to do it, the more embarrassing it felt. Gradually, Yinian grew unwilling. The hands that had been clutching Shen Ruoshuang’s collar retreated to cover her burning cheeks.
Her tone was full of grievance and complaint. “It’s so weird… I-I’m not saying it anymore.”
“Then let’s be fair. Should I call yours?”
Shen Ruoshuang had figured out Xu Yinian’s drunken temperament by now. As long as something sounded reasonable, the girl would believe any nonsense, following along with total, submissive reliance. But the moment she felt impatient or wronged, she would immediately quit and start whimpering.
“Xu Yinian.”
Yinian didn’t know how those three simple syllables could make her face flush and her head spin so much. That cool, detached voice—usually devoid of any sentiment—took on a low, murmuring quality when saying her name, carrying a hint of inexplicable hoarseness.
It sounded like a lover’s whisper, like the murmurs of someone caught in the throes of passion.
A dark glint flashed in Shen Ruoshuang’s Peach Blossom Eyes. She finally uttered the nickname she had repeated countless times in her heart, unable to suppress it any longer.
“Niannian.”
All her tension and unnatural tremors were hidden within that tender, lingering finish as her tongue brushed her palate.
She was beginning her attempt to steal the privilege that had once belonged solely to Bai Ran.
