The Snake's Kiss

Want to kiss?

Some things children and old people could do, but a seemingly able-bodied adult couldn't.

If anyone saw this, the gossip would be vicious. It would be as shocking as seeing a glamorous heiress naked in the street.

Xing Yue hated Bu Yao, but not enough to let her be stared at and mocked. She had been mindful of that for years. No matter how badly they fought, whenever this happened in public, she covered for her.

Now it was pure reflex. Xing Yue refused to admit Bu Yao had her wrapped around her finger. She sat by the window, turned to look at the scenery, and kept her distance.

Still annoyed, she kicked the tail beside her.

Unfortunately, the car was too cramped. Even with an empty seat between them, the red snake tail coiled twice and still pressed against her.

The part she had kicked hovered for a few seconds before slowly coming down again. It even had the nerve to drape itself over her thigh. It was heavy.

Bu Yao's tail was beautiful, full and supple, with gorgeous coloring. It was sensitive, too. The tiny Snake Scales crawled against Xing Yue's leg, curling in waves. In the shifting light and shadow, the tail looked even more magnificent.

"Did you put medicine on it?" she asked, suddenly remembering Bu Yao's allergy and discovering a conscience.

As she spoke, Xing Yue stroked the snake tail. Most snakes had cool, smooth scales, but Fire Snakes were different. Their Snake Scales had a matte texture and were warm.

It was far too sensitive. Every touch made it tremble, and within seconds her whole palm was flushed and hot. She gripped the tail, slowly tightened her fingers, then squeezed hard when it shuddered.

Bu Yao was already ashamed that she couldn't control her tail. With Xing Yue playing with it like this, she couldn't get a word out.

Xing Yue didn't need to chase it away now. Bu Yao wanted to hide it herself.

"Don't..." She gathered her tail back bit by bit, lifting it from Xing Yue's lap. Her voice was barely audible. "Don't do that."

She settled into the corner by the car door, hugged her tail tightly, and rested her forehead on it to calm her ragged breathing. Her burning cheeks disappeared behind it too.

Only she knew why her tail had suddenly come out... and the more clearly she understood it, the hotter her face grew.

After a while, the car reached Xing Yue's neighborhood. She didn't actually have much money. The little villa she'd bought was outside the city center; at the same price, a place closer in would have been a tiny fifty-square-meter apartment.

Out in the suburbs, she could afford a small two-story villa, though it wasn't large either: two bedrooms, a living room, a dining room, and a garage.

The ground floor held the living room, kitchen, and garage; upstairs were the bedrooms, recording studio, and a hall. There wasn't even room for a guest bedroom or study. That was all she could afford, and even this little house had eaten up much of her savings.

But Xing Yue never complained. She knew she earned far more than the average office worker. The Bu Family had simply spent so long looking down on her that, in their eyes, her income might as well have come from begging on the street.

Remembering the past sent her resentment surging again. Bu Yao got out of the car with her and walked right up to her front door. Xing Yue stopped.

Hadn't Bu Yao said she was picking her up from work? Why had she come along? Butler Li had already driven off, leaving Bu Yao with her just like that.

"You're coming in too?" Xing Yue asked.

Bu Yao had recovered. Standing in her delicate little heels, she turned her face and nodded.

Xing Yue smiled. "What if I don't let you?"

If she refused, Bu Yao didn't seem able to do much about it.

Bu Yao took a bag from her small rectangular black velvet purse. Inside were cotton swabs, medicinal powder, and ointment, all from the hospital.

She pressed it into Xing Yue's hand. No words were needed.

Xing Yue bit her lower lip so hard she nearly broke the skin, but she still couldn't bring herself to refuse. Damn her conscience!

"Couldn't you have told me you couldn't use Finger Sleeves?" she grumbled as she led Bu Yao inside. "Do you have to make this my problem?"

Bu Yao followed Xing Yue in and took off her shoes at the entryway. She quietly looked around, taking everything in. "How was I supposed to know in advance that I couldn't use Finger Sleeves?"

She would only have learned she was allergic to latex by using Finger Sleeves for the first time. How could anyone know before trying?

The question stopped Xing Yue short. She had dated women after their divorce and had naturally assumed Bu Yao had too. It hadn't been three or five years. They'd been divorced for ten. Had Bu Yao really not dated anyone?

Xing Yue didn't want to explore that question. She tossed her keys onto the entryway cabinet and went to the fridge for some ice water.

Only then did Bu Yao seem to realize what Xing Yue's reaction meant. She followed her into the kitchen, eyes fixed on her. "Xing Yue, did you have another girlfriend after the divorce?"

The lights were on in the main room, but not the kitchen. What little light there was came from the room beyond and the dim yellow bulb inside the fridge.

She could clearly see the glass in Xing Yue's hand, its sides curving sharply, ice floating inside. When Xing Yue tipped her head back to drink, her throat moved. The sight was enticing; even in profile, her striking features were flawless.

There was something irresistibly beautiful about Xing Yue as a wife, a forbidden thrill that drew Bu Yao in.

"What do you think?" Xing Yue didn't answer directly.

She might as well have. Bu Yao had her answer. It was as if a flame had caught inside her. She sucked in a breath, her chest rising sharply, her eyes filling with tears.

"What kind of woman was she?" Bu Yao asked, her voice unexpectedly calm.

Xing Yue didn't want to discuss it. She gave an offhand nod. "A good one."

Bu Yao didn't understand. "Why did you break up?"

Xing Yue remained casual. "I wasn't good enough."

She was good. I wasn't good enough.

Xing Yue had kept it as brief as she could, summing up that relationship in two simple sentences, but she knew Bu Yao was going to make a scene.

Knowing Bu Yao, how could Xing Yue even think about another woman? It was such a grave offense that only killing her would make Bu Yao feel better.

She waited. She even finished the ice water in her glass, but Bu Yao never erupted.

With a light flick of her hand, Xing Yue shut the fridge door.

She turned and leaned against it, watching Bu Yao in the half-light. The room was frighteningly quiet, the air seemingly frozen. She could hear every breath Bu Yao took, made heavier by anger.

She was certain Bu Yao was furious. Why she wasn't taking it out on her, Xing Yue couldn't fathom.

Barefoot, Bu Yao stared straight at Xing Yue. Whatever she was thinking, she suddenly stepped closer and seized the front of Xing Yue's shirt. "What did you tell her about me? That I was domineering and unreasonable? Bad-tempered? That we married and divorced in a flash? That you never loved me?"

To Xing Yue, the questions were childish. It would have been understandable coming from Bu Yao at eighteen, but caring about such things at twenty-eight was a little too girlish.

Yet looking at that face, at eyes redder than a rabbit's and on the verge of tears, at Bu Yao questioning her so fiercely and earnestly, Xing Yue found she couldn't laugh at her.

"No..." Xing Yue denied it. She only ever cursed Bu Yao in front of her best friend, never to anyone else—not family, not colleagues. "I said Miss Bu was beautiful. The sort of person anyone could fall for at first sight."

She hadn't refused the Bu Family's marriage proposal because she'd been taken with Bu Yao's looks. That was why they'd married so quickly. She couldn't think of much else good to say about Bu Yao, but she hadn't said anything bad.

Whether Xing Yue's answer was true or not, it comforted Bu Yao a little. She had no right to be jealous now, and no right to demand that Xing Yue stay single for her.

It hurt.

"Really?" Bu Yao let go of Xing Yue, looked up at the ceiling, and blinked hard.

Xing Yue hated this situation. It felt suffocating. She wouldn't even let Bu Yao cry in her house. "Don't cry. I can't stand seeing a woman cry."

Especially a woman who had humiliated her and trampled her dignity.

More than anything, though, she felt an inexplicable panic. Bu Yao was acting so strangely that, for a moment, Xing Yue thought it might have been easier to deal with her ten years ago. At least back then, Bu Yao had ordered people around whenever she wanted something. She hadn't acted like this.

Xing Yue couldn't read her at all.

The moment that thought crossed her mind, Xing Yue swore inwardly. What was wrong with her? Was she actually missing the woman who used to make her carry her shoes?

Her words only made things worse. Bu Yao hurried out of the kitchen, circled the ground floor without finding a bedroom, then rushed upstairs. She opened the bathroom door, shut it behind her, and crouched on the floor, tears pattering down.

The sudden move left Xing Yue feeling awful too. What was that supposed to mean? As if she'd done something to wrong Bu Yao!

She lay on the sofa, her head aching, when a voice from long ago sounded in her mind—

Shut up! Stop crying! I told you not to cry, do you hear me? Ah—don't scream! No crying!

Xing Yue jerked upright on the sofa. She was trembling slightly, her lips pale, her limbs ice-cold.

She got up and headed for the bathroom. Before she could knock, the door opened from inside. Bu Yao threw herself at her and held her tight.

It was only a hug, yet it seemed to shatter every trace of Bu Yao's spoiled-heiress pride.

"I'm getting older..." Xing Yue licked her lower lip. She neither hugged Bu Yao back nor pushed her away. "I might not have much patience with you. Don't take what I said just now too much to heart."

It wasn't that seeing women cry irritated her. She simply couldn't tell what Bu Yao wanted, and the way Bu Yao made her heart race left her agitated.

Xing Yue was torn. She hadn't liked the way they used to be together, but now that Bu Yao was even more willing to give way than she was, she still didn't like it.

Seeing the proud swan lower her head brought no satisfaction. It felt as though a needle had pricked Xing Yue's heart—not terribly painful, just a faint sting. At first she barely noticed it, but the pricks kept coming until the pain was hard to bear. Before long, even a breath of wind against the wounds might hurt.

Bu Yao looked up at her, her lashes still damp. "Want to kiss?"

Her soft, smooth forked tongue slipped into the air. In the wordless heat between them, its tip licked Xing Yue's chin affectionately.

Xing Yue declined gently. "I have work tomorrow."

Bu Yao leaned against her, warmth flowing steadily from her body, her eyes full of coaxing reproach. "Just a snake kiss. We won't do anything else."