Zhong Chu was completely stunned. She froze for a few seconds, tossed the small safe aside, stood up from the bed, and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with An Yanqing.
She pointed a finger at herself. “He Yu… likes me?”
She was almost moved to laughter by An Yanqing’s words, her pitch suddenly rising: “I know you and He Yu don’t get along, and you don’t want me having too much to do with her, but you don’t need to use such a ridiculous lie as an excuse.”
An Yanqing took a deep breath and proactively took a step back, allowing the sword-drawn tension between them to de-escalate.
She looked at Zhong Chu, her tone steady: “You know my personality; I am not the type of person to make jokes about such private matters. You may not know, but if you ask any of He Yu’s friends, which one of them isn’t aware of this?”
She spoke with such certainty that Zhong Chu’s mind fell into chaos. Involuntarily, she followed the prompt and began to carefully recall her interactions with He Yu over the years.
The way He Yu had treated her in the past flashed through her mind like a montage. Even that morning’s phone call, where He Yu had been uncharacteristically clingy, replayed in her head like a looped movie scene.
Because she was the one involved—and because He Yu had never once made an inappropriate move in front of her—she turned it over in her mind, yet she couldn’t quite straighten out her thoughts.
Her face turned pale, and she couldn’t help but murmur, “I… I never thought about it that way before.”
Zhong Chu didn’t realize she had actually been led into a trap by An Yanqing. The fact that He Yu liked her was so unexpected that it quietly pried open her tightly locked heart, causing her firm stance of rejection to waver.
Thus, invisibly, she acknowledged her status as An Yanqing’s wife and began to truly project herself into this relationship.
In reality, they were a young couple forced into a marriage license with no feelings for each other. A piece of paper and an invisible constraint shouldn’t have been able to change anything.
An Yanqing had no right to manage her social life—even if He Yu was her admirer.
An Yanqing’s lips curved slightly, her dark eyes dim and devoid of light.
Her fair fingertips hooked onto the edge of her own clothes. She turned slightly and said softly, “Zhong Chu, do you have medicine here? The places where I’m having an allergic reaction… they hurt quite a bit.”
The topic was abruptly shifted, leaving Zhong Chu no more time for contemplation.
In her mind, An Yanqing had always been proud and reserved. Forget the minor discomfort of an allergy; even if she suffered a much more serious injury, she likely wouldn’t show her weakness.
Now that she had rarely opened up to show vulnerability, Zhong Chu naturally assumed she was in so much pain she couldn’t bear it, and her attention was instantly diverted.
She instinctively moved to An Yanqing’s side. “I don’t have medicine in my room, but the family doctor keeps emergency supplies throughout the house. Is it very bad? If it is, I’ll call her to come over.”
Her gaze followed downward, landing on An Yanqing’s slightly exposed lower back.
An Yanqing’s skin was dazzlingly white, and the spots of red marks scattered across it were like red plum blossoms blooming on the surface of translucent white jade. The redness was defiant, releasing its presence without restraint.
When perfection developed a flaw, the ruined deficit suddenly seemed like it was no longer a flaw at all. Zhong Chu’s eyes flickered, and her fingers were drawn downward by some invisible force.
The moment her warm fingers made contact, An Yanqing’s body gave another slight shiver.
She turned her head to look at her, her eyes slightly lowered. Strands of hair fell by her cheeks, softening the coldness in her gaze. Zhong Chu’s fingertip brushed against that patch of red, and she looked up, instinctively staring into An Yanqing’s face.
The sensation Zhong Chu had several times dismissed as a hallucination returned. An Yanqing lowered her head, her aggressive and sharp aura retracting entirely. She looked like a harmless kitten—obedient, docile, and devoid of any aggression.
Her voice was a bit hoarse as she whispered, “Zhong Chu, don’t touch it. It’s uncomfortable.”
An Yanqing seemed completely unaware that when a person who usually acts tough shows a weak side, that sense of shattered fragility suddenly erupts from within the hard shell.
The pursuit of perfection faded; instead, a different, strange emotion came rushing in. Zhong Chu identified it for a long time before realizing that this surging, violent emotion was actually a desire for destruction.
Vulnerability didn’t necessarily inspire pity; rather, for someone with a wicked streak, it only sparked the idea of completely crushing that remaining strength.
To see a strong person fall to pieces, sobbing in silence; to see the corners of her eyes turn red and filled with tears; to see her body trembling in an attempt to hide, yet unable to escape her ravaging.
Zhong Chu’s hand unconsciously applied pressure, and the intensity of An Yanqing’s trembling immediately increased. Her skin was smooth and delicate, while the uneven texture of the marks nearby provided a completely different sensation, yet both were equally lingering and hard to let go of.
Zhong Chu wondered if she had gone mad. She had always known her personality was malicious, especially toward An Yanqing. But she never knew she could be this wicked.
On the surface, however, she said: “Don’t move. Let me have a good look at how serious it is.”
An Yanqing’s gaze wavered, her red lips pressed tight. For a split second, her eyes met Zhong Chu’s, as if expressing her reluctance and resistance.
But Zhong Chu did not withdraw her hand. Instead, as An Yanqing lowered hers, Zhong Chu’s other hand took over the previous action, lifting the hem of her shirt even higher.
A chill hit An Yanqing’s back, and the tips of her ears flushed a faint red, the heat spreading all the way to the side of her neck.
She pushed back but hit empty air and stopped resisting. She turned her gaze away unnaturally and said, “Zhong Chu, isn’t the most important thing you should be doing right now helping me get the medicine?”
Zhong Chu leaned down slightly, tracing the marks with her fingertips.
Her warm fingers slid slowly across the burning skin. The more she looked, the more familiar the pattern of the “plum blossoms” became. She didn’t notice that An Yanqing’s fair skin had already taken on a light pink hue amidst the trembling.
Zhong Chu couldn’t help but frown, replying absentmindedly, “I have to see how serious it is before I can decide whether to get you medicine or just call the doctor.”
At the same time, she pulled An Yanqing’s clothes up even further.
This time, she didn’t have any absurd or suggestive thoughts. Her finger pressed onto the “stamen” of a plum blossom; the width of her fingertip almost perfectly matched the imprint of the red mark.
She instinctively followed the “branch” downward, and the familiar movement suddenly triggered some very unpleasant realizations.
Finally, her finger stopped at the small of An Yanqing’s slender waist. There, two conspicuous bruised finger marks were dark in color, looking quite intimidating and out of place against the surrounding vivid red.
Zhong Chu felt a rare moment of cowardice. After a second of hesitation, she tentatively pinched the skin with two fingers.
It was a perfect fit.
Zhong Chu’s mind exploded. She held her hand there blankly; the finger marks and the injury overlapped almost exactly.
She understood the situation instantly. She looked back and forth between An Yanqing’s skin and her own fingers in disbelief: “An Yanqing, this… are you allergic to the stamp pad ink I smeared on your shirt back yesterday?!”
Though she spoke in a questioning tone, she was already certain of the truth. But how could someone’s skin be so sensitive?
It was comparable to the Princess and the Pea, sensing a single pea through eighteen mattresses. The ink she had mischievously smeared on the outer layer of An Yanqing’s shirt had actually caused such a severe allergic reaction through a layer of fabric?
And that pinch she’d given her in a fit of pique had left such a terrifying mark.
The temperature difference between day and night in late summer was huge, but the daytime remained hot. The air conditioning had been on for a while. An Yanqing’s body felt split into two parts—a world of ice and fire—constantly torturing her senses.
Her flesh and bones were scalding hot, burning a deep crimson onto the surface of her skin. Yet the cold air pressed down, swirling and colliding with the heat. With the fabric gone from her waist, the chill released its full power without reservation.
“Now that you’ve finished looking, go get me the medicine.” An Yanqing’s head was dizzy from the feverish heat, and she had no energy to comfort Zhong Chu.
Or rather, this had been her goal all along. Speaking the truth herself would have been less effective. She needed Zhong Chu to discover it herself to drive her guilt to its peak.
“I…”
Zhong Chu’s throat felt parched. She opened her mouth but couldn’t make a sound. Her arms hung at her sides, and her fingertips felt as if they had been touched by sparks.
For a moment, she even felt like she might be allergic to An Yanqing’s skin, causing her to feel this searing torment.
The sinful thoughts regarding her desire for destruction vanished instantly, leaving her heart feeling as if it were being grilled over a fire.
Zhong Chu stood speechless for a long time, then lowered her head guiltily. Finally, a soft, panicked, and conscience-stricken tone—like a kitten that had done something wrong—escaped her throat:
“It’s my fault. I’ll go get the medicine… I’ll apply it for you myself!”