On the fourth day of living in the Huo family residence, Lan Su was asked to share a room.
This wasn’t the kind of “sharing a room” related to marital duties as dictated by feudal society, but simply sleeping in the same room.
In fact, Lan Su had never been inside Huo Yan’s bedroom before.
“Today?”
Lan Su didn’t argue or express a refusal, despite mentally running through the option. She ultimately didn’t say it aloud.
In this house, no one had the right to say no to something Huo Yan had decided. Therefore, she only asked about the timing, hoping to drag it out as long as possible to give herself time to prepare mentally.
“Yes.”
Huo Yan knew she wasn’t very willing, so she gave a somewhat considerate reason.
“Jiang Dan thinks our relationship is good. It’s best not to show any flaws.”
The message was clear—it was only for today.
As Huo Yan herself stated, she didn’t like sharing space with people.
Lan Su nodded, indicating she understood. She put on a smooth nightgown and walked straight to Huo Yan’s bedroom to wait for her.
The nightgown was one-size, a long silk slip dress with a robe over it. The smooth material outlined the shape of her prominent shoulder blades, and the concave curve of her back was visible even through two layers of fabric.
Huo Yan’s eyes twitched. She noticed that the person’s footsteps were extremely light, with small strides, making almost no sound when she landed. It was as if she was afraid of causing trouble for others by overstepping, much like a miserable protagonist in a novel who was fostered and barely surviving in childhood.
Her slender fingers moved, and the light played across her full nail beds, like the moonlight shining through the gaps in the tree shadows in the deep night, sweeping a trace of brightness across a dark world.
Hire a nutritionist
The housekeeper, Ellie, received this message.
Eleven p.m., master bedroom.
The ceiling was covered with a whole layer of diffused fabric, hiding the light sources, which cast a uniform glow from above. The dark blue curtains were tightly sealed over the glass windows, and shadows projected onto them left no trace—this was something Huo Yan had specifically instructed after the previous mistress was attacked by an unknown object.
The space was large. The wide bed had accessibility rails on both sides to help Huo Yan get in and out. Besides the usual bedroom furnishings like a sofa, an office desk, and a cabinet, there was a small, wild-style miniature ecosystem in the northwest corner by the window.
It wasn’t large, about five or six square meters.
It was an enclosed space separated by a glass cover, with dense, thirty-centimeter-high grass covering the ground. A tree, which Lan Su couldn’t name, resembling one from a tropical rainforest, had its vines hanging haphazardly. The top was equipped with a temperature and humidity adjustment device and a detector.
This was Bella the pet snake’s home.
Hiss… hiss…
The black and gold thin snake crawled out of the ecosystem cabinet, drawing a few strokes of “territory lines” on the floor before slithering to a spot three meters in front of Lan Su. Its soft body coiled up, its head raised high, its spine straight, defensively flicking its red tongue.
Lan Su was afraid of snakes.
More afraid than Huo Yan realized.
Her hands and feet cold, she shrank into the quilt. The sweat in her palms left ugly, wet stains on the silk duvet, like the slimy trail left by a poisonous snake.
Taking two deep breaths, she glanced at Huo Yan, who was reading a book leaning against the ecosystem cabinet not far away, and spoke:
“Will it sleep with us?”
Huo Yan raised her head from the book. Her gold-rimmed glasses reflected a flash of light, and she realized that the “it” Lan Su referred to was Bella.
“Yes.”
“Will it bite people?”
“No.”
“Does it have teeth?”
“Of course.”
“I feel like it’s hostile towards me.”
“Because you are a stranger.”
“I feel like it will bite me.”
“If you bully it, then yes.”
Both were people of few words. Their dialogue was so brief it would only take ten seconds in a TV show. Yet, the steadily advancing second hand paused at that last word, “then yes,” catching in Lan Su’s throat.
The fist hidden under the quilt tightened and loosened. Lan Su bit her back molar, then remembered her delicate-hothouse-flower persona. She managed to squeeze out a fragile expression, knitting her brows and pursing her lips slightly:
“But… I’m afraid of snakes.”
Huo Yan watched her, her normally flat, cold face taking on a hint of amusement. It was as if she had found a brightly colored, exquisite Barbie doll among a pile of faded, old toys.
She enjoyed watching Lan Su act. Her acting was clumsy, yet she was trying hard, revealing a kind of innocent pureness—the type that is clearly bad at something but loves to play anyway.
“It doesn’t bite people, unless they come with ill intent.”
She was provoking her, waiting to see what Lan Su would do next. She probably wouldn’t cry, but she would likely put on an even more delicate and fragile expression.
Three seconds passed. Instead of increasing, the aggrieved look on Lan Su’s face cooled down. She forced a smile that looked friendly but hid a blade:
“It’s been on the floor. If I accidentally step on it, or instinctively hit it, you wouldn’t get angry, would you?”
Huo Yan’s eyelids drooped slightly, and her lips curled up in satisfaction. Lan Su was not an ordinary rich young lady. That seemingly frail body must, must, conceal an unspeakable secret.
A cold, ruthless, and wicked secret.
She raised her hand and snapped her fingers, beckoning the black snake on the floor:
“Bella.”
Bella only recognized her voice. Hearing the call, it immediately crawled over obediently, climbing up Huo Yan’s smooth arm to the tree trunk in the ecosystem cabinet.
The glass door closed with a clack. Lan Su’s body visibly relaxed. However, Bella in the cabinet was not happy, continuously flicking its tongue at the woman who was occupying its owner’s bed.
Clouds piled up after deep night, obscuring the crescent moon. The world fell under a dark, profound shroud.
Towards the latter half of the night, rain began to fall. The raindrops were dense, pitter-pattering against the banana trees in the backyard, drumming out a percussive beat.
Huo Yan was a light sleeper and opened her eyes in the sound of the rain.
She actually liked the rain, always feeling that those terrifying memories deep in her heart could be washed away. But the last time she opened the curtains to watch the rain, a bullet grazed her neck. After that, the windows were replaced with bulletproof glass, and she never opened the curtains at night again.
Her bare feet touched the floor. The cold sensation awakened the stillness in her heart. Under the faint wall lamp, she walked back and forth on the floor, passing the accessibility rails, circling the wheelchair, feeling the solidness transmitted from the floor with every step.
Her gaze shifted to the figure on the bed.
If not for that glance, she would have almost forgotten that there was another woman sharing her bed tonight.
Lan Su’s breathing was very shallow, almost inaudible.
Her sleeping posture was also strange: she was lying on her side, facing away, curled up, with her arms wrapped around her knees and her neck contracted, her chin resting on her knees—the fetal position.
It was also the posture a person instinctively returns to when they feel unsafe, seeking the safest memory of the mother’s womb.
She was curled into a ball, her thin back covered by the blanket. Her body’s outline was clearly visible, even the curved, feline-like ridge of her spine.
Huo Yan stood in front of her like this. In the dim light, her figure appeared blurred, just like the unexplored door in her own heart, vaguely covering Lan Su.
A moment later, Lan Su seemed to see someone precious in her dream. Her beautiful lips curved into a slight smile. Her thin eyelids slowly lifted a crack. In the blurry light, she saw a figure wearing blue pajamas. She couldn’t see clearly and was defeated by the overwhelming sleepiness, sinking deeply into slumber. Just before she was completely asleep, she let out a sound in her dream:
“Jiejie [Older Sister]…”
Drop!
A dewdrop slid across a lotus leaf and fell into the calm lake of the early morning, making a crisp sound, spreading circles of ripples.
The noble deity, when she looked upon the world, was destined to fall into the mortal realm and cease to be a god.
For instance, this lake was once a frozen snow mountain.