Chapter 20: Skin

This should have been a hug filled with reassurance.

But Xiahou Ming only felt a bone-chilling cold.

She could feel the body behind her becoming increasingly stiff due to the lack of response.

“Yu Yuhui and I have nothing to do with each other…”

This is a lie.

A lie that even she couldn’t believe.

“You’re lying!”

Ling Yicai’s voice suddenly became sharp.

The next second, Xiahou Ming felt dizzy.

Ling Yicai was like an enraged female leopard.

She suddenly pressed down on her body, and her hands were like iron clamps, pressing her wrists tightly to both sides of the bed.

In the dim moonlight coming in from the window, Xiahou Ming saw for the first time the unfamiliar expression on Ling Yicai’s face—paranoid and fanatical, like a burning flame, which made her heart palpitate.

“You lied to me!”

She growled hysterically, tears streaming down her cheeks, hitting Xiahou Ming’s face one by one.

“You were clearly with her… with that woman!

You skipped classes, went to the game hall, and held hands with her!

I saw it all!”

“Did she force you?

Xiao Ming, tell me!

Did she?!”

“Calm down first…”

Xiahou Ming was frightened by her out-of-control appearance and her heart beat faster, with a hint of trembling in her voice.

“I’m calm!”

Ling Yicai interrupted her.

“I’m calmer than ever!

I know you were just bewitched by her!

After so many things that happened, you just lost yourself!”

She suddenly lowered her head, and her tone turned into a creepy gentleness:

“Don’t be afraid, Xiao Ming… I just want to see what that woman did to you.”

Her hands began to wander over Xiahou Ming’s body.

Her touch was as reverent as that of a devotee cleaning a statue of God.

She wanted to cleanse all traces of Yu Yuhui, that dirty woman, that might have been left on her, one by one, in her own way.

She stroked the scabbed wounds with a mixture of pity and anger on her fingertips.

“Look, she hurt you.”

Her voice was filled with tears.

“She’s not helping you at all, she’s hurting you!”

Xiahou Ming’s whole body was stiff, and fear and humiliation overwhelmed her like a cold tide.

Ling Yicai’s behavior became more and more bold.

She lowered her head and began to kiss Xiahou Ming’s neck, shoulders, and even the places where the scars were.

Every kiss was as gentle as the brush of a feather.

In her opinion, this is not desire.

It is a kind of “stamp.”

She wanted to use her own breath to cover up the traces of another woman and re-mark this “tainted” skin as her own holy land.

Xiahou Ming endured it numbly, with only a few monotonous thoughts circulating in her mind:

‘It’s up to you.

If that’s what you want.

If that calms you down.

If this… can turn you back into your original Ling Yicai.’

But she was wrong.

Ling Yicai did not change back.

She became even more…crazy.

“That woman hasn’t done these things to.

That woman hasn’t done these things to you yet, has she?

Right?”