Chapter 3: Pearls

A gray-winged sparrow perched on a bare branch.

On the road below, a black Maybach slowly passed, startling the bird into flight as it vanished into the lead-gray sky.

The car stopped outside a quiet, classical villa.

When the door opened, a pair of black low-heeled boots stepped onto the snow.

The young woman who held the umbrella tilted it slightly, revealing a fair, delicate face.

She wore a white dress under a matching hand-knit wool coat—maturity mingled with a touch of youthful freshness, creating a unique charm.

Su Zhi closed her umbrella and stood at the door.

Just as she was about to enter the code, the door opened from within.

Mingyue stood neatly dressed, holding an ornate black parasol.

When she saw Su Zhi, she lifted her skirt slightly and curtsied.

“Long time no see.”

Straightening, Mingyue turned toward the drifting snow.

“I’ll be leaving now.”

She opened her umbrella and stepped into the cold wind.

Beads of water struck the edge of the parasol like tiny pearls colliding in the breeze, producing a crisp, musical sound.

From beneath the umbrella, she glanced back with a smile.

“Oh right—enjoy yourself.”

Su Zhi said nothing.

Mingyue knew her temperament well; without waiting for a reply, she turned and headed toward her eye-catching Ferrari.

Su Zhi remained where she was, quietly closing the door.

The villa was warm, almost stifling.

Steam fogged the floor-to-ceiling windows, water droplets streaking down the glass.

Su Zhi removed her coat and hung it on the rack, adjusted the thermostat to a comfortable setting, then walked over to the sofa.

Curled up there was a frail youth, his brow tightly furrowed, forehead beaded with sweat.

He wore an ornate gown, his long inky hair spilling loose.

His chin was sharp from thinness, a ribbon tied around his neck.

Even unconscious, the faint crease between his brows made him resemble a fragile, slumbering princess.

“How distasteful.”

Su Zhi had always despised their twisted amusements.

She turned and retrieved a damp towel from the bathroom, then sat cross-legged on the carpet.

Gently smoothing the boy’s furrowed brow, she wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“Stomach pains again?”

The physician in her stilled her hand.

Setting the towel aside, she rose and ascended the wooden spiral staircase to the second floor.

Click.

Bright light filled her room, illuminating the center—an oversized bed draped in cloudlike white bedding that spilled onto the floor.

For a moment, her gaze lingered on the quilt, eyes darkening.

The hand holding the medicine bottle hesitated before she opened a drawer and pulled out another one.

On her way downstairs, she paused at the cloakroom, selecting the largest white shirt available.

Returning to the living room, she wiped away the boy’s sweat, coaxed him to swallow the stomach medicine, then helped his unconscious body into the oversized shirt.

The hem was long enough to cover the bruises marring his legs, yet its loose fit only made his frailty more apparent—like someone so delicate he might be blown away by the slightest breeze.

Patiently, Su Zhi gathered his hair, tying it into a neat style while leaving a few shorter strands to frame his face, restoring a trace of his former appearance.

She still remembered the boy from two years ago.

Back then, he had stood at the foot of the stairs, greeting her with a bright smile.

Spirited, strikingly handsome, radiant as the midday sun—he had been so dazzling that her eyes couldn’t look away.

Perhaps that was why she had always disliked Mingyue’s peculiar obsession.

Even now, after he’d wasted away into a fragile figure with softened brows, dressed in women’s clothing more beautiful than anyone else—she still could not like it.

If not for Mingyue’s tendency to fly into a rage whenever his hair was cut, the scissors in her own room would not have remained untouched all this time.

A muffled cough broke the silence.

Su Zhi tightened her arms around the youth in her embrace, lowering her head until her gaze met Yu Zhu’s as he slowly opened his eyes.

The unbearable cough was forced back down his throat.

His trembling lashes brushed against Su Zhi’s chin, scratching straight into the depths of her heart.

“Water?”

Yu Zhu’s body instantly stiffened.

Su Zhi paid no mind to his reaction and asked again, “Or a towel?”

If possible, Yu Zhu would rather choose neither.

But Su Zhi had already extended her palm to him.

With trembling fingers, the boy traced a shaky character onto her hand—“毛” (towel).

He hadn’t even finished writing the second character when Su Zhi closed her fingers over his hand.

A small white pill was dropped into the glass of water.

Tiny bubbles clung to the sides as the tablet slowly dissolved.

Truthfully, Su Zhi preferred the towel.

The involuntary struggle of the boy when his mouth and nose were covered always stirred her in advance.

But he had only ever chosen the towel once—only once—and that had nearly cost him his life.

So, no matter what Yu Zhu chose, Su Zhi would only ever give him a glass of water.

“Drink.”

The rim of the cup touched his lips.

Yu Zhu tilted his head back and forced himself to swallow.

Su Zhi wiped the water from the corners of his mouth, then dried the droplets that had slid down into his collarbone.

Cradling him in her arms, she carried him upstairs.

Though he had developed a degree of resistance to such drugs, by the time they entered the bedroom Yu Zhu’s consciousness had already begun to blur.

Whether it was Su Zhi lowering him onto the bed or the chandelier hanging above the ceiling, everything in his vision wavered and split into countless overlapping fragments that scattered and reformed again and again.

A moment later, the boy who had just woken once more lost all awareness, falling back into the dark.

His frail, thin body sank unknowingly into the softness of the quilt.

Stray strands of hair fell across his forehead.

Under the glow of the light, his pale skin seemed to radiate a faint milky luminescence.

He lay there in silence, no matter what was done to him, incapable of the slightest response.

Su Zhi’s breath grew heavy with excitement.

She changed into a black slip dress, then carefully reached for Yu Zhu’s right hand.

His uncontrolled fingers slipped into her grasp.

When she released them, his hand slowly opened again.

Guiding him, she placed that hand on her shoulder, leading it to tug down one strap of her dress.

The motion was slight.

But the moment she faltered, the hand without her support slid limply from her shoulder.

Su Zhi seized his falling hand in midair, her breathing turning even heavier.

No one could resist such a feeling.

A beautiful boy completely at her mercy.

The faint rhythm of his breath.

The helpless weight of his limbs.

Every motion guided by her hand.

Every pleasure granted only through her will.

To become the god who held complete dominion over him.

Every cell in her blood burned with heat.

Her pounding head left her dazed, all troubles cast aside.

Nothing remained but the boy lying beneath her.

When Yu Zhu’s hand pulled down one side of her strap, a sudden glimpse of spring light broke through the winter night.

Su Zhi drew a deep breath, steadied herself, and stepped barefoot from the bed.

She turned off the light, then shed the half-hanging dress entirely in the darkness.

“Yu Zhu…”

“Yu Zhu…”

Her tongue traced lightly along his knuckles.

Moisture slid down his palm and dampened his arm.

Su Zhi lifted his hand above his head, then bent forward to kiss away the droplets one by one.

Her fingers toyed with the sharp line of his shoulder bone, and suddenly, her mind conjured the image of the pearls striking together beneath Mingyue’s umbrella.

She bit down gently—on her pearl.

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