The sound of the knock finally snapped Xu Yinian out of her daze. She realized she had been sequestered in the bathroom for quite some time, and her silence must have been what prompted the observant Bai Ran to worry.
The moment the door swung open, Xu Yinian failed to notice the fleeting chaos in Bai Ran’s eyes or the slight catch in her breath. Clutching the expensive jacket to her chest, Yinian kept her head bowed, unable to meet the other girl’s gaze.
“I’m fine…” her voice was soft and thin, thick with humiliation and distress. “It’s just… your clothes…”
Bai Ran showed no surprise at the result she had orchestrated herself. Her gaze traveled from Xu Yinian’s cheeks—which were flushed a deep, burning crimson—down to the jarring bloodstain on the jacket.
It was a stark, vivid red that seemed to spread before her eyes. Even Bai Ran’s amber eyes seemed to absorb the color, taking on an unsettling, almost supernatural hue.
Xu Yinian waited for the inevitable fallout. To her, the silence felt like an eternity, stretched thin by her own anxiety. Just as she was about to force herself to look up, a gentle, melodious voice brushed against her ear—a consolation meant for her alone.
“It’s alright. It can be washed. Leave it to me.”
Xu Yinian felt almost mesmerized, failing to catch the trembling, suppressed sigh at the end of that sentence. As Bai Ran spoke, she reached out to take the jacket, her fingertips grazing against Yinian’s clenched knuckles. It wasn’t a lingering touch, yet it carried a strange, clinging sensation.
In that brief contact, Yinian noticed something: Bai Ran’s clean fingernails had a faint purple tint to them. It wasn’t the look of nail polish.
This was the second time in her life she had seen someone with naturally purple nails. The first time… was a memory from long ago, buried in her childhood.
In those memories, a pair of thin, frail hands possessed a strength she could never resist. Those hands, belonging to someone volatile and unpredictable, would frequently seize her wrist with a crushing grip and drag her away. They had looked exactly like this.
Yinian knew the medical reason for it: poor oxygenation due to congenital heart disease.
The memory flickered by like a passing shadow, and her attention returned to Bai Ran’s hands. It wasn’t just the nails; her pale skin, unmasked by makeup, bore the faint, shallow scars of years of intravenous needles. Her entire hand served as a testament to Yinian’s suspicion.
As if sensing the gaze, Bai Ran turned her sickly hand over slightly. Her voice remained as gentle and inclusive as ever, devoid of bitterness or resentment, which only served to make it more heart-wrenching.
“I’m sorry, is it a bit frightening? My health isn’t very good. That’s why I haven’t been able to move into the dormitory until now.”
Xu Yinian was instantly flooded with guilt and pity, realizing how insensitive her staring must have seemed. Having lived with a stutter her entire life, she understood the pain of being different. Beyond the physical and mental toll, the stares and whispers of others were like arrows aimed at one’s fragile self-esteem.
“No, it’s not that. It’s… because I’ve seen that color… on someone’s nails before.”
The urgency to explain herself made her stutter even more pronounced. “The way I… I talk… is much more ridiculous…”
Before she could finish, Bai Ran placed a forefinger in front of Yinian’s lips and gave a soft, “Shhh.”
Though her finger didn’t touch Yinian’s skin, she could feel the warmth of Yinian’s breath hitting her fingertip—rhythmic puffs that grew hotter and more rapid because of her proximity.
“It’s a secret, then. Since we’re both ‘of a kind,’ let’s protect each other’s secrets, okay?”
This “covenant” left Xu Yinian in a momentary trance. She felt as though she had heard similar words about being “of a kind” before, but the context hadn’t been this warm or comforting. Instead…
The face of a “young Satan” from her childhood, a face she had tried to lock away, began to sharpen in her mind.
Yinian’s eyes lost focus for a second, but she found herself again when she met Bai Ran’s amber gaze, which was filled with concern and strength. It was just a similar physical defect; she shouldn’t project her childhood trauma onto someone as refined and kind as Bai Ran.
Pushing those haunting memories aside, she nodded earnestly at Bai Ran. “Okay.”
The Adam’s apple on Bai Ran’s slender neck moved imperceptibly. Then, a smile bloomed on her face, her eyes softening until they looked like melting gold.
Xu Yinian had clearly missed something. Bai Ran was someone meticulous enough to catch the smallest thread of a clue, yet this time, she didn’t ask what had caused Yinian’s momentary lapse in focus. Nor did she express any curiosity about who else Yinian had seen with those “same colored nails.”
Having prepared for this for so long, it was impossible for Bai Ran to forget what she herself had said in the past. If she insisted on repeating those words now, it was entirely out of a selfish, morbid desire to expose herself.
She wanted to see Yinian being lured, step by step, back into the same orbit as before. But this time, it wouldn’t be through force. She wanted every choice to be made willingly, every word to be spoken by Yinian’s own lips.
One side was the past Yinian feared; the other was the present she relied upon. This contradiction—wanting her to know yet wanting her to touch—stimulated Bai Ran’s senses to the point of a fever pitch.
***
Having shared their most “embarrassing” secrets seemed to bridge the gap between them. Yinian felt that there was no divide between her and this humble, low-profile heiress. She felt a sense of comfort and security, as if everything good in the world was concentrated in the person before her.
However, when Bai Ran took the stained jacket to the sink to rinse it, Yinian suddenly realized that when the “Eldest Daughter” said she would handle it, she meant she would wash it with her own hands.
The refusal died in Yinian’s throat as her face exploded into a fresh wave of heat. Even though it was just a jacket, the nature of the stain made it feel as though Bai Ran were washing her most private, intimate garments.
Water flowed over Bai Ran’s pale fingertips and onto the jarring red stain. Her long fingers worked the fabric with natural, unbothered movements. Pale pink water seeped out, staining her bloodless fingertips before sliding through the gaps between her joints.
Her slender knuckles were far stronger than they looked, and the way her fingers rubbed the fabric was slow and oddly elegant.
The scene, though mundane, felt increasingly “wrong” to watch. Yinian finally couldn’t take it and blurted out, “I… I should do it myself!”
But Bai Ran’s eyes were clear, devoid of any awkwardness. She looked every bit the gentle older sister who was used to taking care of others.
“Bloodstains need to be rinsed with cold water. Besides, the sooner it’s washed, the easier it is to clean. It wouldn’t be good to let it sit. Look, isn’t it already much better?”
The running water continued to wash over the stain, which was indeed fading. Yinian was left speechless. She could only avert her eyes and wait in silence, biting her lip.
It felt like a slow, agonizing execution that only ended when Bai Ran finally finished scrubbing the spot and tossed the jacket into the dormitory’s washing machine.
Even then, Yinian subconsciously avoided Bai Ran’s gaze. She especially avoided looking at those fingers. Whenever she did, that inexplicable, unsettling imagery would resurface.
Bai Ran watched the figure that was so desperately trying to hide from her. Suddenly, she covered her mouth and coughed twice.
As expected, Yinian hesitated for a moment before turning back. She saw that Bai Ran’s face had paled even further, a paper-white shade that even her makeup couldn’t hide.
This was the first time Yinian had seen Bai Ran looking truly sickly and frail. She froze, her eyes entirely occupied by Bai Ran’s figure, filled with helpless, frantic concern.
A few words of comfort were all it took for Yinian to toss her earlier discomfort to the wind. Taking advantage of this pity, Bai Ran pushed further.
“I think I’m two years older than you. Can I call you Niannian? And you… you can call me Sister Ran.”
Yinian’s nickname was indeed Niannian, but because her stern mother never used such endearments, and she was the oldest among her peers, she was usually the one using nicknames for others. She only heard it a few times a year from elders when visiting relatives.
If Bai Ran really was two years older, the address was normal enough. Though she felt shy, Yinian blushed and agreed.
She had no idea that the moment she nodded, she would hear Bai Ran’s red lips part, her tongue lightly tapping the roof of her mouth to produce a soft, warm syllable.
“Niannian.”
It sounded as seductive as the most beautiful love poem in the world. “As I thought, it suits you perfectly.”
Bai Ran smiled, a hint of expectation flickering in her eyes as she looked directly at Yinian.
Yinian snapped out of the trance induced by that “Niannian.” She understood the expectation; Bai Ran wanted to hear her own name from Yinian’s lips.
“Ran…”
She could squeeze out the single name, but she had never called anyone “Sister” in such a personal way. It felt unfamiliar. She hesitated for a long time, the word stuck in her throat.
She expected Bai Ran to encourage her, but the other girl only chuckled softly.
“Is Niannian not used to having an older sister? It’s fine. I’ll wait for the day you get used to it.”
Yinian’s breath hitched. She stared at Bai Ran. In her life, the number of people who had said “It’s fine” or “I’ll wait for you” could be counted on one hand. And yet, this “Eldest Daughter,” who should have been high and mighty, was constantly saying these things to comfort her.
If only I really had an older sister like Bai Ran…
“Ran… Sister Ran.”
Carrying that sentiment, Yinian realized the words she had found so difficult to say were actually quite easy. It was only after she said it that she felt the delayed rush of embarrassment, not daring to look at Bai Ran’s expression.
Backing off to lure her in had been a deliberate trap, but even Bai Ran hadn’t expected Yinian to accept the title so quickly.
Even the carefully calculated mask of gentleness in Bai Ran’s eyes cracked for a moment. That exclusive title, uttered in a soft, cautious voice—one syllable at a time. It was clumsy, yet incredibly sincere.
It was a seductive blow delivered by someone who had no idea of its lethality.
A morbid flush crept up Bai Ran’s cheeks and touched the corners of her eyes. Her fingertips, which had just been saturated with Yinian’s scent, felt scorching hot.
She really was “not quite right.” The thrill of this moment made her shiver with excitement, her stomach cramping in waves of euphoria.
She wanted more.
The addiction she had realized with madness the moment she lost her could never be satisfied by such a small reward. It would only grow more gluttonous, more ravenous for more.
What on earth am I going to do with you?
