Chapter 43.2

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Heat spread between them, an almost tangible intensity filling the air. Each breath Chi Yin exhaled felt like a wisp of cloud brushing against Qiao Ziman’s skin, leaving her trembling in its wake. Biting down on her lip to suppress a cry, Qiao Ziman left faint teeth marks behind, a testament to how hard she was holding back.

Chi Yin, noticing this, caught Qiao Ziman’s lower lip between her own, soothing the marks with a gentle kiss. Qiao Ziman instinctively arched her graceful neck back, her hands gripping tightly at the pillow above her head. Her damp hair fanned out like dark silk, spilling across the bed as her resistance melted away.

The sensation was overwhelming, stirring a deep pool of emotion and sensation within her. For a moment, all coherent thought slipped away. All she could feel was the heat, the undeniable connection, and the way everything seemed to blur at the edges.

Moisture trailed across her skin, slipping and spreading with the heat. Qiao Ziman’s unfocused gaze fixed on the ceiling, the patterns above twisting and distorting in her blurred vision. Her breath hitched as Chi Yin finally pulled back, lifting her head and wiping the stray droplets of water from her face.

Chi Yin’s voice was soft yet teasing as she spoke, her words laced with amusement. “Last time, you asked me what it meant when the master delicately teased the petals of a flower until the vibrant bloom released its sweet nectar, trembling gently under the touch. You wondered what that was all about. Let me explain it to you now.”

She leaned closer, her smile mischievous. “It means exactly this.” With that, she lowered her head once more.

Qiao Ziman’s grip on the pillow tightened instinctively, her fingers digging into the fabric as waves of sensation overwhelmed her. 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when her awareness slowly returned, her thoughts gradually piecing themselves back together. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chi Yin crouched by the safe, rummaging for something.

“Chi Yin?” Qiao Ziman called out, but the sound of her voice startled her—it was raspy and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against stone.

This woman is such a villain, Qiao Ziman thought, biting her lip in frustration. Does she ever stop? She glared daggers at Chi Yin, cheeks flushed with indignation. I said I wanted her, but not like this! I didn’t mean I wanted her to—

Her inner tirade was cut short as she lifted her leg and aimed a kick in Chi Yin’s direction, intent on delivering some justice. However, her muscles betrayed her—aching and weak from exertion, her leg collapsed mid-air, falling limply back onto the bed.

Mortified, Qiao Ziman flushed an even deeper shade of red. How embarrassing!

Thankfully, Chi Yin hadn’t noticed the failed kick. Just as Qiao Ziman was inwardly celebrating her small victory, Chi Yin turned around, a small box in her hand.

Pink. Familiar.

At first glance, it seemed oddly familiar, but when Qiao Ziman saw the lettering on the box, her eyes widened in sheer disbelief. “You… you keep condoms in your safe?!”

Chi Yin answered matter-of-factly, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “Of course.” She walked over, gently lifting Qiao Ziman’s head to help her sip from the glass of water on the bedside table. “But that’s not the only thing in there.”

Qiao Ziman choked slightly on the water, nearly dropping the glass. “What else is in there?”

Chi Yin’s lips curled into a mischievous, secretive smile. “You’ll find out in due time. We’ll use it all eventually.”

Before Qiao Ziman could react, Chi Yin raised the pink box, her tone teasing but firm. “For now, let’s continue. Your mother gave me these. It’d be a shame to let her kind gesture go to waste.”

“Wait—what?!” Qiao Ziman blurted, her voice trembling as she instinctively tried to scoot away. “You’re serious? Again?!”

Chi Yin’s gaze deepened as she watched Qiao Ziman’s feeble attempt at escape. There was a glimmer of humor in her eyes, but it was layered beneath something darker, a commanding intensity that left no room for doubt.

Before Qiao Ziman could fully process anything, Chi Yin leaned in again, her movements firm and deliberate. Qiao Ziman’s awareness wavered—one moment she felt herself drifting along like a leaf in a gentle current, the next soaring to impossible heights. Time lost meaning, her senses blurring the line between dream and reality.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when her eyelids fluttered open. The bed beside her was empty. Qiao Ziman tried to lift the blanket, but as she raised her arm, a sharp ache shot through her muscles, forcing a gasp from her lips. Everything felt sore, as if her body had been thoroughly wrung out.

What happened to me? she wondered, her mind sluggishly piecing things together. Slowly, fragmented memories began to trickle into her mind, each more mortifying than the last. She remembered flashes of crying and pleading—begging Chi Yin to stop. How pathetic… how embarrassing… And then, the most damning recollection surfaced. Chi Yin had whispered—no, declared—that she couldn’t stop.

She said she couldn’t stop?! Qiao Ziman’s cheeks burned with a mix of anger and humiliation. How dare she! Clenching her jaw, she wanted to bury herself under the blanket, but even the smallest movement sent waves of soreness through her body, leaving her wincing in pain. Forget it. She closed her eyes tightly, deciding her best option was to lie perfectly still—like a mummified relic, unbothered and undisturbed.

Footsteps echoed outside the door, growing louder as they approached. Qiao Ziman’s body tensed instinctively, every nerve on edge. The sound of the doorknob turning reached her ears, followed by a soft creak as the door opened.

The door opened, and Chi Yin walked in, carrying a bowl of steaming seafood congee. The rich, savory aroma filled the room, immediately catching Qiao Ziman’s attention. Her nose twitched as she instinctively sniffed the air, and her stomach betrayed her with a loud grumble.

Chi Yin chuckled softly and reached out to gently caress her cheek. “Awake?”

Qiao Ziman’s eyes snapped open, glaring fiercely at her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out—her throat was too strained. Frustrated, she mouthed, Don’t touch me.

The silent protest lacked its intended impact, her defiant demeanor softened by her hoarse vulnerability. It only made her look more pitiful, even endearing. Chi Yin’s gaze filled with tenderness as she carefully helped Qiao Ziman sit up, setting the bowl of congee on the bedside table. She scooped a spoonful, blew on it to cool it down, and brought it to Qiao Ziman’s lips. “You must be starving,” she murmured. “Eat first, then I’ll help you take a bath.”

Qiao Ziman huffed internally, unwilling to give in too easily. Yet, her hunger won out, and she obediently opened her mouth. The warm, fragrant congee melted on her tongue, immediately soothing her empty stomach. Satisfaction spread through her, and her sharp glare softened into a gentler look.

She mouthed, What time is it? Her eyes darted to the darkened window. Why are we eating before sunrise?

Chi Yin hesitated for a moment, guilt flickering across her face as she lowered her gaze. “It’s… the next evening,” she admitted quietly.

Qiao Ziman: “?????”

She shut her eyes tightly, refusing to even look at Chi Yin anymore. Sensing her frustration, Chi Yin coaxed gently, “If you’re not eating, how about I take you for a bath first? You’ll feel better after cleaning up a bit.”

Before Qiao Ziman could protest, Chi Yin scooped her up effortlessly and carried her toward the bathroom. The tub was already filled with warm water, steam rising in soft curls. Chi Yin lowered her gently into the water, the waves rippling around them.

What started as a simple bath didn’t stay that way for long. Chi Yin couldn’t resist and indulged once more.

By the time Chi Yin carried Qiao Ziman back to bed, her eyes were still shimmering with unshed tears. Chi Yin sat beside her, gazing at her intently, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard. “So, uh… about your unused vacation days. Why don’t you take the next few off?”

Qiao Ziman froze, a look of utter panic spreading across her face. Slowly, she began scooting back, inch by inch, until she reached the corner of the bed and curled into a tight ball. “What do you mean by that???”

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Author’s Note:

Hehe, any guesses on what else is in Chi Yin’s safe? 😏