“Get out! Hurry, just go!”
Su Mu’s voice trembled as she clutched her chest with one hand, the other weakly pressing against Luo Jialan’s collarbone, desperate to keep her at bay.
She feared that if Luo Jialan lingered even a moment longer in this cramped fitting room, those heart-shaped sparkles would return to her eyes.
‘Please, I’m not that irresistible!’
Thankfully, Luo Jialan snapped back to her senses just in time.
Otherwise, with the stark difference in their strength, Su Mu wouldn’t have stood a chance at resisting—she’d have been swept into a fierce embrace right there in the narrow space.
This couldn’t wait any longer.
The issue with the Desire Witch had to be addressed, and soon.
It was obvious she was tied to this mess.
Outside the fitting room, Luo Jialan paced restlessly, her fingers fidgeting as waves of guilt crashed over her.
Could it be that remnants of the Desire Witch’s magic still lingered in her body, unpurified despite all this time?
Her veins carried the blood of that woman, her magic woven into her very being.
For over a decade, she’d lived under the same roof as her, oblivious to her true identity.
Those dark, desire-born energies might have seeped into every fiber of her—every pulse, every cell—waiting for a crack in her mental defenses to surge forth and strip away her control, as they had just moments ago.
Luo Jialan’s father had passed before she was born—or so her mother, Luo Linglan, claimed.
But no trace of this supposed father existed.
Not a single record, not even a name she could recall.
Her memories were confined to the martial arts dojo, where she was the sole student and Luo Linglan the only teacher.
Luo Linglan insisted on being called “Teacher,” not “Mother.”
Her training was merciless, so severe that young Luo Jialan’s schoolmates often whispered concerns about abuse.
The dojo housed just the two of them, yet the rules were labyrinthine, dictating even the precise placement of shoes before bed—down to their angle and direction—with an obsession for efficiency.
The phrase that haunted Luo Jialan, the one that could jolt her awake from nightmares, was Luo Linglan’s cold command:
“I’ll count to three.”
Even a half-second’s delay brought punishment.
Luo Jialan had learned to obey within the final tick of that countdown.
It was why she always counted backward in that peculiar way—granting others an extra second, a silent rebellion against the woman’s ruthless precision.
Under such relentless pressure, anxiety had clawed its way into her body.
Sleepless nights, sudden palpitations, and a creeping disinterest in nearly everything plagued her.
When she finally broke, confronting Luo Linglan in a tearful outburst, the response was chillingly simple:
“These rules exist to restrain your heart, to tame your desires.”
No warmth, no emotion—just a cold decree, like a warden addressing a prisoner.
It left young Luo Jialan shivering with a bone-deep chill.
Luo Linglan enrolled her in the best local school and prepared meticulously crafted meals, but never once offered a shred of affection.
It was no wonder Luo Jialan felt nothing for her now.
Even today, those grim memories surfaced unbidden—the scar-streaked face of that woman, her unyielding gaze.
The dojo’s endless rituals had carved themselves into Luo Jialan’s very being, manifesting in her daily life.
When she ate, her plate was always positioned exactly one hand’s width from the table’s edge, and not a single grain of rice was left behind.
When she left the house, her slippers were tucked into the same spot in the cabinet, and the door was locked precisely two and a half turns.
She tried to shake off these haunting habits, but each morning, she’d find her shoes aligned perfectly at the foot of her bed, toes pointing toward the door.
This rigid self-discipline made her unravel in new situations—like facing oddities in battle—where her heart would loosen, her restraint slipping away.
She adored small animals, yearning to treat them gently, though sometimes a fleeting urge to toy with them bubbled up, a balm for the tenderness she’d never known.
Yet she’d never kept a pet.
Animal fur was forbidden in the dojo.
Perhaps what happened earlier wasn’t the work of dark magic at all.
Maybe it was just an excuse for surrendering to her own suppressed desires.
“I’ve made up my mind.”
Su Mu emerged from the fitting room, clutching two swimsuits, her outfit neat but her neck still flushed with the remnants of her earlier embarrassment.
“I’ll buy both, but I think I’ll wear the peach-white one.”
Luo Jialan barely registered the words, her mind elsewhere.
“I’m… so sorry about earlier. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”
Her voice quivered with the apology, and Su Mu’s cheeks warmed again.
She raised an eyebrow, studying the blue-haired girl’s tense expression.
“Make it up to me? Really? You’d better not back out then—”
She drew out her words playfully, letting Luo Jialan’s heart hang in suspense.
“All I ask is one thing: sneak some coconut jelly into my daily orange smoothie at the café. No extra charge.”
Luo Jialan’s trembling lashes froze for a moment, her eyes lifting to meet Su Mu’s, a tangle of emotions swirling within her.
“You’re not upset with me? After I… did something so out of line?”
She was used to harsh reprimands for her mistakes, followed by futile punches at the hand-drawn “Luo Linglan” she kept as a punching bag, none of which ever eased her inner torment.
“Why would I be? We’re friends now, aren’t we? Friends cut each other some slack. Besides, you let me off easy that first time, didn’t you?”
While Luo Jialan wallowed in guilt and Su Mu changed, Su Mu had been grappling with her own questions.
How should she treat Luo Jialan after this?
With cold distance or a flash of anger?
But the memory of the petite girl yanking off Tang Nai’s teasingly chosen bikini and dragging her here softened Su Mu’s heart.
She didn’t want to push Luo Jialan away.
She couldn’t bear to lose the warmth of her tea or the gentle touch of her fingers kneading her calf.
To Su Mu, the little mouse, Luo Jialan was the first beacon of light in her dark world.
Having tasted that brightness, she refused to return to the cold glow of a computer screen.
“More than that, I’m worried about you. Was that episode tied to the Desire Witch? Maybe Tang Nai could check, or I could try scanning you.”
At the mention of Tang Nai, Luo Jialan shook her head like a rattle.
“Not her. I… I can handle it myself. Or you could try.”
“Let’s get it sorted before we hit the beach. I don’t want you getting any more… squeezing urges.”
Luo Jialan’s gaze drifted briefly to Su Mu’s chest, a quiet murmur stirring in her heart.
‘It’s probably not the Desire Witch. But I’ll try to hold back.’