Lin Xingyao closed the picture book and let out a yawn.
“We’re getting ready for bed now.” Chen Zhaoyue helped her put the book on the table, then pulled the thin blanket that had been kicked to the foot of the bed back over her daughter.
“I want to hear a story.” Lin Xingyao lifted her own blanket and burrowed into Chen Zhaoyue’s, nestling into her mother’s warm shoulder.
Chen Zhaoyue picked up another volume of Bedtime Stories from the table, opened the book, kissed the top of Xingyao’s head, and smiled, “Where did we leave off last time?”
“Um—” Xingyao’s little hand traced carefully across the pages, searching for the previous story using the illustrations.
Lin Yiren watched this warm scene from the side, feeling a little embarrassed. When Xingyao slept with her, there was no such bedtime ritual. She would just cuddle the girl for a while, then pull up the covers when Xingyao got tired.
Lin Xingyao pointed to a page. “Here.” After saying so, she sat up straight, ready to listen, when she noticed the other side of herself was still empty.
“Mom, come sit here.” Xingyao wanted to be embraced by both of her mothers.
Lin Yiren didn’t dare dawdle and prepared to bring her own blanket over.
But Xingyao lifted their blanket to make an opening. “Mom, come in too.”
Lin Yiren hesitated, clutching her blanket’s corner, but the expectant look in her daughter’s eyes finally made her crawl under the covers.
***
A summer quilt doesn’t need to be long as long as it’s wide enough to cover everyone. While leaving their feet exposed, it perfectly protected their chests—Chen Zhaoyue’s pale yellow blanket was just right, big enough for all three.
Between two pairs of slender legs lay a pair of cute little feet. Xingyao grabbed the storybook and set it in the middle, wriggling happily. “Let’s start.”
Lin Yiren pulled the blanket up to her chest, adopting a listening posture.
Then, under the covers, a hand reached across Xingyao and rested on her thigh. The sudden touch made her body jolt, and the blanket she had just pulled up slipped down again.
That familiar feeling—Lin Yiren’s eyes went wide as she glared at Chen Zhaoyue.
“Let’s take turns reading.” Chen Zhaoyue bent over, the blanket rising slightly in the middle, clearly her arm moving.
“Okay, okay.” Xingyao, thinking Mom was talking to her, turned to Lin Yiren. “Mom, you read the first line.”
Lin Yiren hadn’t even opened her mouth when the hand on her thigh squeezed a little tighter, sinking into the soft flesh.
“Mmm…” Lin Yiren’s cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip.
Chen Zhaoyue looked at her as if only seeking her opinion.
Is this how you ask someone?!
“Mom?” Xingyao noticed something odd about her mother’s expression.
Not wanting her daughter to wait, Lin Yiren spoke first:
“One day, a little duck went out to play and saw—saw two geese bathing by the river.”
That mischievous hand made her breath unsteady, but she still did her best to start the story with a calm, gentle voice.
“Your turn.” Lin Yiren, biting her teeth, looked at Chen Zhaoyue, lightly pushing the heiress’s wrist under the blanket so she wouldn’t be too rough.
Luckily, Chen Zhaoyue didn’t plan to keep squeezing her. Her hand gently moved away from Lin Yiren’s leg.
“The duck was overjoyed and invited the two big white geese to come play with it.”
Chen Zhaoyue’s voice was warm and soft, turning the little story into a lullaby.
So pretentious, Lin Yiren thought, pouting, but still slowed her voice to match Chen Zhaoyue’s rhythm.
***
Xingyao looked at the duck illustration in the middle, a little puzzled.
“Mom, aren’t ducks supposed to be red?”
“Uh… real ducks are white.” Lin Yiren didn’t know how to explain roast duck.
“Hmph.” Chen Zhaoyue smiled, pinching her daughter’s face. “You’ll understand the difference when you’re older.”
Xingyao nodded and continued listening, sometimes leaning left, sometimes right.
Time passed slowly, and Xingyao’s wiggling gradually lessened.
“Getting sleepy?” Chen Zhaoyue whispered.
Xingyao didn’t reply, her lashes slowly curling down.
Chen Zhaoyue carefully put the storybook on the table, letting Xingyao rest her head on her arm and lay down bit by bit.
Lin Yiren slipped out from under the blanket, padded barefoot to turn off the light.
The room went dark, leaving only the night light casting a warm yellow glow.
Before long, Xingyao fell asleep, her little body rising and falling evenly.
***
Lin Yiren lit up her phone—20:29. She opened her e-book, intending to pass the time as usual.
Just then, Chen Zhaoyue turned over and got out of bed, walking to the desk, her silhouette edged in soft light from the night lamp.
Does she still have something to deal with? Lin Yiren wondered.
Chen Zhaoyue walked to the desk but didn’t sit down; instead, she looked down for a while and picked something up.
Lin Yiren was curious, but saw Chen Zhaoyue turning and coming her way.
She thought the heiress had something to say to her and prepared to get up.
But she heard Chen Zhaoyue say, “Xingyao’s asleep now.”
Her voice was low, tinged with a hint of warmth by the darkness.
That single sentence set Lin Yiren’s imagination racing, freezing her in place.
Chen Zhaoyue came closer. Instinctively, Lin Yiren scooted back, only to bump into the headboard.
Her gaze landed on what Chen Zhaoyue was holding.
Because Chen Zhaoyue’s body blocked the night light, she couldn’t see clearly what it was, but it seemed like there was more than one item.
Chen Zhaoyue’s hand lifted from her side. In that instant, Lin Yiren saw a white cord dangling from her hand, swaying into the darkness.
Why did that swaying cord look a bit like a rope? With Chen Zhaoyue’s words, Lin Yiren’s thoughts were quickly turning inappropriate.
Lin Yiren slowly raised her knees to shield herself, Xingyao’s gentle breathing making her wary of any sudden movements.
Seeing the girl curling up like that, Chen Zhaoyue couldn’t help but laugh. She waved her hand in front of Lin Yiren and said:
“Do you want to watch a movie?”
All the colorful fantasies in Lin Yiren’s head vanished like the night light’s glow.
“A m-movie?”
Chen Zhaoyue stood in front of her, holding a Tablet in one hand, her finger looped through an earphone cord, the white wire swinging in the air.
“Yeah, Xingyao’s asleep. It’s the perfect time for us to watch a movie.” Chen Zhaoyue’s lips curled. “Why are you so nervous?”
“Who’s nervous? I was just looking at my phone.” Lin Yiren retorted, though her ears were burning.
“Hmph, scoot over.”
“Let’s watch at the desk.”
“No way, movies are meant to be watched in bed.” Chen Zhaoyue tugged at Lin Yiren’s blanket.
“There’s no need for both of us to be in the same blanket!” Lin Yiren pressed down with both hands to stop her.
The two of them were at a standstill.
Chen Zhaoyue let go, suddenly bending down until their faces were only a fist apart.
A faint, elegant fragrance enveloped Lin Yiren. Her cloud-like nightgown swayed, and she caught sight of lace flowers at its hem.
Pale fingers tapped her flushed, tender cheek.
Boom. Lin Yiren felt heat rush to the top of her head; not just her hands, but her whole body was about to go limp.
“Let’s watch together.” Chen Zhaoyue said.
“Okay.” The girl let go of the blanket, her blushing face turning away.
Using her beauty as a weapon—how shameless.