Sulking

How did she have the nerve to say that about me?

When they had first married, Bu Yao had repeatedly asked Xing Yue to put her shoes on for her. At first, Xing Yue had taken it as flirting and thought little of it. Then she discovered that Bu Yao made the same demand in public and even gave her the cold shoulder if she refused.

It bothered Xing Yue, so she tried to talk to Bu Yao calmly. Bu Yao replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world: "I've never put on my own shoes in my life. I don't know how!"

That's absurd, Xing Yue thought. Even the queen's only daughter must know how to put on shoes. Is she messing with me?

Once, Bu Yao had hurt her leg in gym class and sat waiting for Xing Yue to carry her. A torrential downpour struck that day, and traffic was so bad that Xing Yue couldn't pick her up on time. When she finally reached the school, she found Bu Yao sheltering in a little pavilion, her ankle badly swollen, her feet covered in mud and her pant legs filthy.

"Aren't there spare slippers in your locker? If you can't get your canvas shoes on, wear the slippers for now!" Xing Yue couldn't understand it. Bu Yao could have asked a classmate to fetch them. There was no need to stand barefoot in the mud.

Asking a classmate to fetch them was easy enough, but Bu Yao could hardly ask someone else to put them on for her. She did know how to respect her classmates.

"Don't shout at me!" Bu Yao ordered. "I don't know how to put them on."

Not that she wouldn't. She couldn't.

Xing Yue was stunned. She hadn't expected Bu Yao to mean it. She was eighteen, already in college, yet she couldn't manage something so basic.

It overturned Xing Yue's entire understanding of how things worked.

As if sensing what Xing Yue was thinking, Bu Yao leaned over and kissed her cheek. Her lips were still slightly swollen from their heated kiss.

"You hate me?" Bu Yao asked, the corners of her eyes tinged red. It wasn't even a question; she stated it as a fact.

Xing Yue really did seem to hate her, as though she couldn't wait for Bu Yao to disappear and never show her face again.

Xing Yue didn't particularly want to answer. Why did adults have to pin feelings down so precisely? She did hate Bu Yao in some ways, and in others she didn't. At the very least, she didn't mind being intimate with her.

"What do you think?" Xing Yue tossed the question back again. She picked up a towel and dried Bu Yao's tail. "Why did you suddenly come looking for me?"

They'd had nothing to do with each other for ten years. One brief encounter at a ball, and Bu Yao couldn't bear to be apart from her? The explanation was too flimsy. Xing Yue couldn't help staying on guard.

Bu Yao had answered that already. Xing Yue simply hadn't taken her seriously.

Late at night, every light in the two-story villa was off except for a fist-sized warm lamp in the little bedroom. Its dim glow was gentle on the eyes.

Rain began to fall. They had left the window open, and water soaked a patch of the cool-toned Nordic floor tiles. The curtains rustled, and raindrops pattered against the windowsill. The quiet night grew noisy.

Xing Yue stirred awake. There was nothing on the windowsill, and she didn't care if the floor got wet. She rolled over, hugged her little furnace and went back to sleep.

Something warm, soft and wet brushed her face. It tickled. She didn't need to look to know it was Bu Yao's forked tongue.

Then she heard Bu Yao whisper, "Xing Yue... I've changed. Please don't hate me."

Xing Yue didn't know how to respond and wanted to pretend she was asleep. But the forked tongue slid from her face down to her neck. She couldn't keep pretending, so she pressed her index finger against Bu Yao's lips.

The forked tongue flicked out against her fingertip and quickly withdrew. It came out again, touched her finger and retreated, over and over.

Xing Yue's gaze darkened. "Are you determined to get me worked up?"

Bu Yao's face grew hot. She shook her head innocently and finally stopped.

She burrowed into Xing Yue's arms, rubbed her nose against Xing Yue's chest and settled into a comfortable spot with her cheek resting there.

After all that, Xing Yue couldn't fall asleep. She pulled Bu Yao's tail into her hands and idly squeezed it. "Does the young lady want to remarry?" she asked, her voice husky.

Bu Yao hadn't expected Xing Yue to bring it up so suddenly. She grew so nervous she stammered, clutching Xing Yue's collar. "D-do you?"

For a moment, it seemed that if Xing Yue nodded, they could remarry on the spot.

In truth, they hadn't divorced solely because Bu Yao liked humiliating people. Their families were also worlds apart. Xing Yue had no say in the Bu Family. She had wanted to move out and live alone with Bu Yao, but Bu Yao's parents had refused.

The frequent charity galas and endless mingling with prominent people had left Xing Yue ill at ease. She could carry herself with poise at those events, but the moment she opened her mouth, her shortcomings became painfully obvious.

Xing Yue hadn't been afraid of changing. If the Bu Family needed her to, she could learn and contribute to the family business. But Bu Yao's parents begrudged her even a scrap of approval. Every word they said carried a sneer at how she didn't belong in their circles.

When she confided in Bu Yao, Bu Yao accused her of being too sensitive and reading too much into things. They came from different backgrounds, from different worlds. Why force them together?

"I don't." Xing Yue's voice was flat. She held her little furnace in her arms, yet felt cold inside. "We weren't happy married. Why would I want to remarry?"

Bu Yao struggled free and pulled her tail from Xing Yue's hands, refusing to let her play with it anymore. Bracing both hands on the bed, she leaned over Xing Yue. "What wasn't happy about it?"

That was a good question. Apart from the physical side, nothing about being with Bu Yao had made Xing Yue happy.

"Of course you were happy." Xing Yue lay flat on the bed, draped an arm over her forehead and yawned. "You got a servant to wait on you. What's not to like? I dressed you and put on your shoes. I drove you to school and picked you up. I cooked for you during the day, coaxed you to sleep at night and washed your hair. When we went out, I carried your bag and your shoes. If I raised my voice, you made me kneel on a keyboard. If I wasn't home by eight, you made me sleep outside the front gate. I had no rights at all married to you, and you still expect me to remarry you?"

Bu Yao's breathing turned ragged under the barrage of accusations. She hurried to explain. "But isn't that what people do when they're dating? Don't other couples cook for their wives and coax them to sleep? Don't they—"

"Stop, stop, stop—" Xing Yue cut her off. To make her point properly, she sat up and leaned against the headboard. "Miss Bu, don't dress up what you did as romance. Other couples do those things for each other. With you, it only went one way. You ordered me around like a dog. If I asked you to put on my shoes right now, would you?"

The more they argued, the angrier Xing Yue got. She lifted her chin and pressed her foot beneath the covers against Bu Yao's stomach. Warm snake scales lay just below her toes, and she deliberately stepped on them in open provocation.

The red tail curled. Bu Yao stared at her blankly. "I don't know how to put on shoes."

Xing Yue gave a derisive laugh and tipped her head back. "So by that logic, because you can't do anything, you don't have to do anything? And because I can do everything, I have to wait on you hand and foot? If that's the married life you want, fine. It makes you happy, not me. I don't want to remarry you. I don't want to live like that again."

She's unbelievable. Bu Yao had been brave enough to leave school and take the law-school entrance exam again—and she'd passed. She had built a formidable reputation in her field. She clearly wasn't afraid of learning. Yet somehow, basic life skills were beyond her.

Now Xing Yue saw it clearly. Bu Yao's bad habits hadn't changed. Of course. All that tenderness had been an act to coax Xing Yue back to the Bu Family as a servant.

"Teach me," Bu Yao said earnestly, her gaze fixed on Xing Yue.

Even in the dim light, Xing Yue could see how serious Bu Yao was. Her feelings were a mess. Bu Yao was an adult. Even if she had never done those things herself, surely she had seen how other people did them?

How could anyone need to be taught such basic things? If the Bu Family's servants all left, would Bu Yao be unable to survive?

Bu Yao looked so earnest despite being so hopeless at this that Xing Yue could hardly stand it. "Miss Bu, apart from your pretty face, you're good for nothing."

After an entire night of holding back, Bu Yao was finally on the verge of losing her temper. Anger flashed in her eyes. "Why do you keep insulting me?"

"Because I can. Didn't you insult me enough in the past? What's wrong with giving you a taste of it?" Xing Yue flicked Bu Yao's forehead with her index finger. "Can't stand me? Then go home. I'll call you a car."

They could pretend to get along as long as they left the past alone. The moment they dug it up, tempers flared. Xing Yue wanted to see what Bu Yao would say now.

Bu Yao shoved Xing Yue's foot away. Her chest heaved as she glared at her. "You said you have work tomorrow, but you're staying up in the middle of the night to yell at me. Is it because you couldn't keep up with how many times I wanted it yesterday? No wonder you made such a point of saying you're getting older. You were making excuses for being weak. You could've just said so instead of talking in circles. Hah!"

"..."

Bu Yao still wasn't satisfied. She grabbed a pillow and flung it into Xing Yue's face. "You shallow, looks-obsessed jerk!"

She scrambled off the bed, trying to flee, but her body moved faster than her tail. It was still on the mattress.

Xing Yue caught it in one hand and held on. By the time Bu Yao turned it back into legs, it was too late. Xing Yue had pinned her arms and legs down.

"How do you have the nerve to say that about me?" Xing Yue couldn't believe it. She pressed Bu Yao into the bedding. "Hah. I haven't even complained about how bad you are at—"

"Hiss."

Bu Yao quickly bit Xing Yue's lip.

Xing Yue tried to finish. "I haven't complained about how bad you are at—hiss!"

Bu Yao bit her again. Her lower lip burned.

The woman beneath her had her eyes wide open, watching her closely, ready to stop her from finishing that sentence.

Xing Yue couldn't help laughing at the sight. She had better stop, or the young lady would cry. Bu Yao was baring her teeth and claws, looking fierce.

"Want a kiss?" she asked softly.

Bu Yao's eyes glistened, but she ignored Xing Yue.

Xing Yue slowly lowered herself until her whole body followed Bu Yao's curves, leaving no space between them. She rested her head beside Bu Yao's ear. "Do you?"

Her low, husky voice sounded languid and commanding, as though steeped in red wine. It wasn't a question. It was teasing, and she knew exactly what effect it had.

Bu Yao knew it too. Embarrassed and angry, she clenched her teeth and stubbornly said nothing.

They were so close that even their breaths mingled. In that moment, they seemed closer than anyone else in the world.

Xing Yue touched her forehead to Bu Yao's and traced her index finger over those tightly closed red lips. They were soft, moist and enticing. She followed their shape, then pressed lightly. "Do you?"

As she asked, her fingertip kept gliding over Bu Yao's lips. "I don't like forcing anyone."