Chapter 29: Molting

It was about time for Xing Yue to be a pillow princess.

Back when they were married, they had argued often too. But they never did that sort of thing any less. Every day they were addicted to the taste. Often, because they were in the heat of anger, the act itself would take on a tone of emotional release—rougher, harder to control.

Compared to those years, Xing Yue really was showing far too much restraint. Since their reunion, they had only shared Mating Joy on that very first night. Xing Yue had said it was because she was too stressed, too lonely. Could one time really last that long?

Logically speaking, a woman of Xing Yue’s age should be in the phase of the strongest needs. How could she be so devoid of worldly desires? Could it be that Xing Yue could no longer top?

Bu Yao’s little face was filled with shock. She felt the problem was precisely this. Xing Yue’s stamina definitely wasn’t what it used to be. It was about time she became a pillow princess…

Leaning back against the headboard, Xing Yue had no idea about the elaborate psychological drama unfolding in Bu Yao’s mind, nor that she herself had already been sentenced to the role of pillow princess. The fiery, provocative images from before the lights went out lingered in her mind, impossible to dispel.

Her toes slid soundlessly against the bedsheets. She responded absently, her voice distracted: “Mm… I am a little tired…”

The woman’s voice was strained, her breathing slow and careful. In the chilly, wind-swept night, a thin layer of sweat covered her back.

Muffled by the sound of the rain, Bu Yao didn’t notice anything amiss. She turned over to face Xing Yue’s direction. “Don’t you usually like to leave a night light on when you sleep? Why did you turn them all off tonight?”

She couldn’t sleep; she wanted to chat with Xing Yue.

In the bedroom without any light, she could only vaguely make out shadows.

Thinking of Bu Yao watching her, Xing Yue’s throat tightened. “Is the Eldest Miss… afraid of the dark?”

She answered a question with a question. Leaning against the bedding, she bent her knees and pressed them together, neatly covering herself with the blanket. She added, “If you’re afraid of the dark, just turn the lights on.”

Bu Yao felt Xing Yue’s way of speaking was rather strange. Her tone was slow and quiet, as if she were enduring something. Her voice itself sounded odd.

She wasn’t scared of the dark herself. She just wasn’t used to sleeping on the floor. She wanted to sleep in Xing Yue’s arms. “Xing Yue, I want to hear you sing. Okay?”

Bu Yao often listened to covers that Xing Yue posted on music apps. But those songs were sung for all her fans. It had been a very long time since she’d heard Xing Yue sing just for her, a song meant for her ears alone.

“Have you seen my WeChat signature?” Bu Yao asked, holding onto a sliver of hope.

Maybe if she mentioned it, Xing Yue would remember—remember the past when they had encouraged each other through online platforms. Back then, she hadn’t known Xing Yue’s real name, hadn’t known what Xing Yue looked like. When she later lost contact with Xing Yue, the only reason she’d wanted to get to know her was just to know her. She never expected it would be love at first sight.

The first time she went to see Xing Yue, the initial meeting happened to coincide with her molting period. She had been resting in a tree to hide. The first person who noticed her was Bo Wuxue—

“A’Yue, look. There’s a little fire snake up there.” Bo Wuxue pointed above them, gesturing for Xing Yue to look up.

That day, Xing Yue was wearing a champagne-gold halter dress with fringe. Her hair was done up elegantly. Her autumn-ripple gaze swept over, and when she saw her snake form, a faint smile appeared. “It’s an adult, right? Its snake scales are so well-nourished, so strikingly beautiful. What a little beauty.”

Upon hearing this, the little fire snake blushed, her face burning hot. Her python body burrowed deep into the dense foliage.

It seemed Xing Yue saw through her shyness. She pulled Bo Wuxue away, her voice a gentle tease: “Looks like she’s about to molt. Don’t stare at her.”

That day, the tone was like a passing warm breeze, and it opened a window in Bu Yao’s world—a window where, outside, it was spring all year round.

Jiang Li had been in Mo City on a business trip for the past few days. It just so happened that her younger sister, Jiang Yue, had a short break from school, so Jiang Yue brought her wife along to come visit and have fun for a few days.

In the hotel room, a delicate and pretty young woman was straightening the other’s tie, a hint of worry in her expression. “Must you go now? It’s so late.”

He Zhiwen patted Jiang Yue’s head, the corners of her eyes curving into crescent moons. “My friend starts rehearsals the day after tomorrow. I’m afraid she won’t be able to spare the time then. Don’t worry, she’s a very nice person. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Jiang Yue was still a little unhappy but didn’t interfere with He Zhiwen’s decision. “Alright. Be careful. If it’s too much trouble, just forget it. Your friend and I are complete strangers; I’d be too embarrassed to ask her for help anyway.”

Recently, a show had publicly issued an open call for contestants. Several spots were reserved for established actors and singers, and the remaining slots were for ordinary people. Jiang Yue was a short-video influencer who also wanted to participate.

No matter the outcome, just being a contestant guaranteed some buzz, which would elevate her career to the next level.

The open-call information posted online was one thing, but there was likely some behind-the-scenes maneuvering. It was probably just for show; those who actually made the cut were bound to have connections of some sort.

Originally, Jiang Yue hadn’t held much hope and just wanted to sign up and give it a shot. But then He Zhiwen mentioned she had a friend who could recommend her, and her hopes had soared again.

“It’s no trouble at all,” He Zhiwen said with certainty. “My friend has a great temper, a great personality, and treats people wonderfully. Given our friendship history, if I ask her for a favor, she won’t refuse.”

Over the course of the evening, Jiang Yue had heard this friend praised to the skies hundreds of times, described as impossibly, marvelously good. She was practically jealous. What kind of friend could be this amazing?

Since returning from the hike today, eight out of ten sentences from He Zhiwen had been about this friend.

Noticing Jiang Yue’s little jealous mood, He Zhiwen smiled helplessly. She picked up a fruit knife, intending to peel a mango for Jiang Yue.

She wasn’t used to this sort of task. Usually, others peeled them for her. Before she could make two cuts, she nicked herself. “Ah…!”

He Zhiwen gasped sharply in pain. Transparent blood flowed onto the blade of the fruit knife.

Jiang Yue rushed over at the sound, quickly wiping the bloodstains from the blade. She put He Zhiwen’s injured finger in her mouth. “Be more careful. Don’t let anyone see.”

He Zhiwen was a Spirit Snake. Her blood was transparent. From head to toe—snake scales, shed skin, blood, flesh—all of it could be made into medicine capable of curing hundreds of illnesses.

Every year, tragic murder cases involved this kind of snake. The perpetrator, with a chilling ninety percent probability, was a lover. The remaining ten percent were relatives and friends.

Two centuries ago, Spirit Snakes were hunted on a massive scale, their bodies dissected and sold on the black market. The history was bloody beyond words, too horrible to recount.

Later, the Spirit Snake Clan developed a survival method passed down generation after generation: Never let anyone discover your snake species—no matter who that person is, not even the lover who shares your bed.

Now, the world largely believed Spirit Snakes were extinct.

“I know, I know. There’s no one else here but us. Don’t be afraid.” The heat on her fingertip spread a blush across He Zhiwen’s cheeks.

It was just a small cut, and the bleeding had already stopped. But Jiang Yue was still worried. She fetched a band-aid and carefully applied it for He Zhiwen.

Xing Yue arrived at the entrance of the hotel and replied to He Zhiwen’s text.

Before long, He Zhiwen came down. She was wearing a dusty-pink dress with a sweet-salty style ribbon tied at the lotus-leaf collar. When she spotted Xing Yue, she waved, her smile radiant. She had always been full of energy, like a little sun.

She hesitated briefly in front of the car before finally choosing to open the passenger-side door. “A’Yue, it’s been so, so long since I’ve seen you. You left so quickly this morning—I was afraid you didn’t want to see me.”

He Zhiwen seemed a little dejected, as if Xing Yue’s reaction earlier had truly hurt her feelings. She was far more emotionally stirred than Xing Yue. It was a pity Xing Yue had moved so fast; she’d wished she could have heard more of Xing Yue’s voice.

Xing Yue drove around looking for an open shop. She didn’t respond to He Zhiwen’s words. She couldn’t very well say: I was afraid to hear whether you’re happy or not, so I fled.

“What do you feel like eating? Steak? Sushi?” At this hour, the choices of open restaurants were few.

Xing Yue still wanted to confirm whether He Zhiwen had really gotten married. That had been part of her plan all along, though Bu Yao had interrupted it.

Now that she thought about it, she’d only heard Bu Yao’s one-sided account. Who knew if that information was even real?

He Zhiwen said, “Steak is fine. Your stomach’s weak; best to avoid too much raw or cold food.”

Xing Yue unconsciously tightened her grip on the steering wheel, feeling a little nervous. At her age, she rarely had moments of impulse. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t seen He Zhiwen for so long, only to suddenly discover the real reason He Zhiwen had initiated their breakup all those years ago. It was hard to stay calm.

“Zhi Zhi, are you…”

She spoke the old term of endearment they once shared. She had originally meant to ask if He Zhiwen had truly gotten married. But perhaps the sound of rain battering the car windows was too chaotic, and He Zhiwen didn’t hear her.

Coincidentally, He Zhiwen also had something to say and inadvertently cut Xing Yue off. Though her gaze was soft, it held a hint of urgency, as if she, too, realized this wasn’t quite right…

“A’Yue, are you in a relationship with Miss Bu? Is New Shadow Entertainment currently managed by Miss Bu?”

These two questions linked together gave Xing Yue a subtle premonition. Her expression chilled, and her pupils suddenly flooded with blood. She blinked hard a few times before her vision barely cleared.

Inside the dim car, He Zhiwen didn’t notice any of this. She gently asked, “Could I ask you to help me recommend someone?”