Xing Yue, you liar.
Due to a specific reason Bu Yao herself couldn’t control her tail, most of the time, she was either fully tail or fully legs.
A form like this—legs and tail manifesting simultaneously—was usually a sign of ingratiation, a willingness to submit to someone, to see them as stronger than you.
Xing Yue lowered her head. The matte sheen on the red snake scales was coldly alluring, magnificently beautiful. The tail was plump and smooth, the tip slender and elegant, clearly kept preciously.
This was the first time she had ever seen the Eldest Miss in this form.
Bu Yao couldn’t even lift her face. Her chin rested on Xing Yue’s shoulder. “Don’t look…”
She murmured softly.
The window beside them was wide open. Though they were high up, unlikely to be noticed, the possibility of being seen still existed.
Xing Yue wrapped her long arms around Bu Yao’s waist and back, holding her tenderly, coaxing gently: “It’s fine. I’m just petting a snake tail. We’re not doing anything explicit. Being seen wouldn’t matter.”
As soon as the words fell, her palm landed a heavy pat on the plump, full curve of the snake tail. The crisp sound echoed clearly inside the office. The rough action formed a sharp contrast with the tender, coaxing softness of her voice.
“Xing Yue…” The woman pushed at her, scolding her name in a huff.
Unfortunately, there was no real force. What looked like a refusal was more like a tantalizing pretense of resistance.
Xing Yue’s hand wrapped around the tender bud-like tip of the tail, her mind wandering. She was stunned that Bu Yao was showing her a submissive, yielding stance. Not just anyone, but the Eldest Miss Bu. The Bu family, leaders of the elite circles. When had Bu Yao ever acted like this?
On the other hand, she realized something else: she was extremely aroused by Bu Yao in this state. Being in the dominant position didn’t bring her overwhelming satisfaction. Instead, all she could hear were Madam Bu’s words: “Controlling a woman who loves you doesn’t make you powerful.”
She felt a deep sense of shame, but from the very depths of her being, an unspeakable excitement grew…
Xing Yue sighed heavily. She didn’t want to look into Bu Yao’s eyes. This daughter of privilege was willful, a flower raised in a greenhouse. Her thoughts were simple, occasionally naive. In comparison, her own choices—weighing pros and cons, enduring humiliation—felt like a kind of fraud, a deception against Bu Yao.
It took a full thirty minutes to calm the restless snake tail. On the drive home, Xing Yue was at the wheel.
Stopping at a red light, Xing Yue rested one hand on the steering wheel, her expression uneasy. The car was filled with a cloyingly sweet scent, emanating from the snake body.
She wasn’t unfamiliar with this scent. She could already predict what awaited them when they got back. The always calm, lake-like surface of her heart rippled with waves, making her uneasy and agitated.
“Do you want… to go home first tonight?” Xing Yue knew the Bu family was strongly against Bu Yao moving out to live with her; they insisted Bu Yao stay at the family residence. “You haven’t been back the last two days. Your mother must be worried.”
Just like that first night when Bu Yao had stayed over, and Madam Bu came to pick her up the next day.
Bu Yao froze. Suddenly bringing up sending her home—it was far too fickle. Especially when just moments ago, in Xing Yue’s office, Xing Yue had held her like that, petted her tail.
Tomorrow was a day off, no work. Everything was falling into place so naturally… and Xing Yue was actually saying she wanted to send her home?
She clutched the fabric of her clothes tightly, her voice quiet but the words rang clearly inside the car. “Why? You don’t want me?”
The direct question left Xing Yue speechless.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want her. She just didn’t want to keep using this method to relieve stress.
“It’s not the right time yet,” Xing Yue turned the steering wheel, changing course. “We’re not even remarried. You staying out all night, word getting out—it wouldn’t be good for your reputation.”
Just like what Bu Yao worried about at the hospital. Though adults might not see it as a big deal, the Bu family’s status was different. Too many eyes were watching. It was easy to give people something to gossip about, to criticize her conduct.
Looking at the increasingly familiar landscaped greenery outside the window, Bu Yao’s answer seemed irrelevant. Whether she agreed or not, Xing Yue was already driving towards the Bu Residence.
“Are you thinking of me? Xing Yue.” She suddenly asked, her gaze fixed on the car window.
The glass reflected her own features, and Xing Yue’s profile as well.
Xing Yue’s jaw was tight. She didn’t even open her mouth, just responded with a noncommittal “Mm” from her nose.
The conversation died with that single syllable. Bu Yao didn’t press further. Xing Yue said nothing more. Their ears were filled only with the noise of cars speeding past.
Feeling the atmosphere in the car drop to freezing point, Xing Yue licked her lower lip and asked, “Are you mad?”
It shouldn’t be that bad; she hadn’t said anything too harsh.
Bu Yao looked at Xing Yue’s fickle demeanor. Her cold, elegant face curled in a sarcastic sneer. “Do you know what you look like right now? You look like one of those scumbags who says something they don’t mean, does something against their heart, and then acts like it’s all for the other person’s good.”
Whether that struck a nerve or not, Xing Yue’s tone suddenly became agitated. She pulled the car over into a secluded alley. “Who’s the scumbag? Who are you calling a scumbag? Sending you home is a crime now? Which scumbag pretends to be virtuous and doesn’t sleep with a woman? Is there a scumbag like me?”
She was actually getting worked up. Those two sentences from Bu Yao were like stepping right on her tail; she exploded instantly.
“It’s just me asking you not to sleep with me tonight?” Xing Yue stared at the woman in the passenger seat, seething. “If you insisted on coming home with me, I wouldn’t have refused. Is it worth slandering me like this?”
Xing Yue’s reaction was over the top. She was already in a state of deep conflict, immense pressure, wound incredibly tight—like a balloon. Bu Yao had just pricked it lightly, and it popped.
The words weren’t pleasant, leaving Bu Yao with a dark expression.
“Xing Yue, don’t make me sound like I’m throwing myself at you, like I’m desperate to do things with you,” her brows were full of anger, her chest heaving violently. “Are you that amazing? Who’s still a virgin at twenty-eight? For what reason would I… would I want to sleep with you? How did you get that misunderstanding?”
The moment the words left her mouth, Bu Yao’s own face changed color. Panic flickered in her eyes for a few seconds, quickly suppressed, but she nearly bit through her lip.
Xing Yue was silent, her low breathing long and even. Under her glasses, her eyes were incredibly cold. Compared to the fury moments before, she was now surprisingly, chillingly indifferent.
“Really?” she countered, her voice cruel, almost heartless. “Then go find a female or male snake you can actually mate with.”
That was the final blow. The argument had escalated to this point. If Bu Yao didn’t leave now, she’d truly be proving she was throwing herself at her.
She knew she’d stomped on Xing Yue’s sore spot and already regretted it. If Xing Yue had just stayed silent for two more seconds, she would have apologized. But Xing Yue told her to leave. Told her to go be with other snakes.
“Why…” she choked, tears streaming down, her body trembling uncontrollably. “Why is it that you… the one who is gentle and kind to fans, humble and easygoing to juniors, gracious and magnanimous to everyone… why do you treat me like this?”
Large teardrops spilled from her eyes, splashing onto the back of her hand, one after another.
When Bu Yao was sixteen, on weekends, she’d loved listening to Xing Yue sing. She often left comments requesting songs. Once, Xing Yue came across her comment and made a cover. Bu Yao tipped her three hundred thousand in one go.
Xing Yue was overwhelmed. She even privately messaged Bu Yao, asking if the tip was really meant for her, if she hadn’t gotten the wrong content creator.
Later, they started chatting sporadically. Xing Yue, conscience-stricken by such a huge tip, would privately cover the songs Bu Yao liked and send her the audio files.
One day, Bu Yao said she was about to take her college entrance exams and would be gone for a while. Xing Yue was shocked—she had no idea this rich patron was a minor. That couldn’t be allowed! She refunded all the gifts Bu Yao had tipped, even covering the platform’s processing fee out of her own pocket.
Even so, Xing Yue didn’t distance herself just because Bu Yao was underage. She didn’t accept the tips, but she didn’t regret those private recordings she’d made specially for Bu Yao. She even recorded an audio message encouraging Bu Yao to succeed in her exams.
But by the time Bu Yao returned from her exams, Xing Yue had already signed with a company. Her account was managed by the studio’s dedicated staff, who no longer replied to private messages. Naturally, they lost contact.
To Xing Yue, Bu Yao was just one fan among many, from the younger group at that. But to Bu Yao, it meant everything. Nearly all the hardship of her exam period was endured through the audio clips Xing Yue sent.
Even her WeChat name blatantly displayed the username she’d used when interacting with Xing Yue on that platform. Yet Xing Yue never recognized her. She must have long forgotten.
Xing Yue was a very kind person. That was beyond doubt. To fans, to friends, to newcomers, she was consistently helpful and caring. She regularly did charity work in the mountains, ensuring every donation—money and supplies—actually reached the left-behind children. She never flaunted the influencer title; just an ordinary, common person, shining a bit of light, persisting in what she wanted to do.
It was this very person who spoke viciously, with irritable impatience, to the woman who loved her.
Bu Yao was dying of heartbreak. Xing Yue was nice to everyone else. Only to her was she mean, always snapping at her.
She wanted to get out of the car, but the door wouldn’t budge. Sobbing uncontrollably, she forced her voice to be harsh: “Open! The door!”
It was now almost two in the morning. Pitch black outside. The few streetlights flickered ominously, making the area look eerie.
Listening to the weeping beside her, Xing Yue was momentarily lost. She’d just wanted to send Bu Yao home. She didn’t know how things had turned into this.
“You insulted me, and now you’re crying…” she said, her voice lacking conviction.
Bu Yao instantly raised her voice: “You started it! You have no idea how awful your words were. Like I’m the woman you hate most in this world, the one you despise most! If you hate me that much, why did you say you’d consider remarrying me? I was so serious… You liar. You clearly hate me…”
She grew more and more aggrieved as she spoke. What she’d been holding back before now completely broke free. Her tears poured like a breached dam, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
Xing Yue was at a loss. “I don’t. I don’t hate you.”
Bu Yao: “You do! Bastard!”
Those eyes, like treasured jewels, seemed damaged from crying so hard—hazy, their luster gone.
“The Eldest Miss willing to submit, to place herself beneath me—I was overjoyed, but also deeply afraid. I just… I haven’t figured out how to properly receive your feelings. It’s not what you said…” Xing Yue hurriedly explained. She truly couldn’t stand seeing Bu Yao weep like this. She didn’t even get mad at being called a bastard.
These ruby gems didn’t belong to her, yet she felt more distressed over them than Bu Yao herself.
“I said the wrong thing. I’ll correct it.” She spoke slowly, each word deliberate and earnest.
