Inheritance from My Deceased Mother

Meng Zhenyue had only just married into the family, the marriage certificate not even in hand yet, when the wealthy matron of a grand household died right in her bed.

That very day, reporters from all over Hong Kong swarmed in, scrambling to photograph everything.

Afterward, she tended to the rich woman’s daughter with incomparable gentleness, asking after her warmth and cold, caring for her in every possible way.

The daughter loathed her to the bone and watched her like a hawk, yet day by day, she sank deeper into that gentleness.

She wanted inheritance.

When she realized the widow had no interest in her, she began to hate her deceased mother more and more with each passing day.

One day, the widow fell ill, a high fever that would not break.

The girl knocked timidly on her door and asked, “Can I sleep with you? I’m afraid of the dark.”

Meng Zhenyue coaxed her softly and let her stay, keeping her company as they slept.

The girl, thoroughly satisfied, wrapped her arms around Meng Zhenyue, pressing close to feel the heat of her fevered body, and said,

“You’re so hot. I’ll help cool you down.”

The next morning, Meng Zhenyue woke up without any clothes on, her lips moist and swollen.

Later, the girl asked again, “Can you teach me how to kiss? I want to fall in love.”

The woman refused coldly, her hand braced against the girl’s lips.

“No.”

“Please look at me. I really don’t know how,” the girl sobbed as she clung to her.

“Be good.”

Meng Zhenyue was kissed deeply.

In the end, she was dragged into the bathroom, water splashing everywhere, the girl red-eyed, thrilled and excited as she yearned for her…

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know how to kiss at all.”

****

Later on, it was true,  Yun Zhixue really did peel off the very layer of skin she most wanted to strip away.

The woman leaned back against the bed, exhaling a thin ribbon of white smoke, then brought the cigarette back to her lips.

Yun Zhixue lowered her head and carefully fastened a bracelet around her wrist.

It wound and coiled there, like a silver snake coiled around the woman’s pale arm.

Meng Zhenyue cursed her, “You little bastard.”

The tobacco burned on, embers flaring and dimming.

Meng Zhenyue lowered her gaze and smiled, languid and dangerous, as if the one trapped wasn’t her at all, but the other person.

Even though she was restrained, she crooked her finger.

“Isn’t this what you want? Come here.”

****

Yun Zhixue, caught wearing a qipao secretly.

“Do I look like you?”

Meng Zhenyue shook her head.

“Not at all.”

“I do. We look like a married couple.”