“I’ll stay in the room by myself for a while. You don’t need to wait on me outside, not for now.”
After Sista Anderson gave this order, the silver-haired Maid beside her bowed slightly, then obediently replied.
When she reached the door, she grasped the handle, but then turned back to glance at her with some hesitation.
“Then I’ll take my leave. If you need anything, please call for me at any time.” Su Ling paused, “Although you always say you don’t want me hovering nearby… still, thank you for everything so far.”
Sista didn’t turn around, but that clear, flowing, gentle gaze still touched her heart, making Sista feel a faint, restless emotion within, as if she was facing the place where sunlight and shadow met, lost in thought for a moment.
The relationship between the two of them had changed—no longer quite the same as before.
No matter how much she emphasized the distance between them, at the most crucial moments, Sista Anderson still found herself inexorably bound by Su Ling.
Sista realized she had become indecisive.
On one hand, she wanted to maintain the habits of the Blood Clan, keeping an absolutely aloof attitude toward those with no status like humans. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help but be kind to Su Ling, worrying if Su Ling would fall ill or get hurt.
As a result, this seemingly fragile layer of self-restraint had, at some unknown time, already been half-seen through by Su Ling.
“That girl… really is such a headache.”
Su Ling was already gone, and the only light in the room was the warm yellow glow of the lamp, making Sista’s muttered voice sound especially clear in the quiet.
She gazed at the clothes in her wardrobe—each dress neatly folded by Su Ling, without a single wrinkle.
Her fingers brushed lightly over the fabric, and her heart began to race.
“She really… even washed all the undergarments…”
She muttered discontentedly, lifting up the dress. But her eyes involuntarily lingered on the evening dress.
But really, it was only because that silly Maid had forgotten to wash it that her thoughts had begun to wander so wildly. That’s why she’d asked Su Ling to leave early, canceling the evening’s routine, letting this empty, lonely room belong solely to herself.
The soft cloth rubbed at her fingertips, and the comfortable sensation stirred up waves of longing in her heart, like spring water held back by a dam, desperate to break free.
“…”
It smells so good… There’s her scent on it, that calming, reassuring feeling.
Sista draped the evening dress over her lap, lips slightly parted, breath growing deeper, her heartbeat accelerating out of her control.
Scenes played crazily in her mind—Su Ling dressed in the evening dress Sista had picked, with moist, glistening eyes, a cute blush dusting her cheeks, bashfully raising her hands as if to shield her chest.
The collar was cut quite low, the skirt was deliberately designed to be short, revealing the tender thighs of a young girl, with layers of lace trim making her figure look both exposed and hidden, just a slight turn and a tantalizing scene would be revealed.
Even Su Ling’s usual Maid uniform was enough to make Sista feel restless. But if she changed into such a somewhat garish, entirely unsuited dress…
This stark contrast and sense of forbidden allure only made her heart throb more fiercely.
“What a foolish little thing…”
Strange noises began to fill the room as Sista pressed her face into the dress, savoring its lingering scent, feeling her body go weak.
There was the faint aroma of flowers, as well as the scent of milk left behind from making desserts—all mixed together. The more she breathed it in, the more impossible it became to resist.
Her fingers traced the ribbon on the dress, sliding along the lining, cheeks flushed, spreading her hand over the front of the skirt.
The carefully tied little bow at the waist was soon pulled loose, turning into a messy knot.
If only the one in front of her wasn’t just a dress, but the real Su Ling—what a scene that would be…
That imagined moment played over and over in her mind, the corners of her lips already lifted with anticipation.
“…Besides, there’s no one else in this room, and the servants are about to go off duty. No one… will find out, right?”
After playing with the dress for a while, Sista let out a quiet breath, tied up her long black hair, undid the buttons on her own clothing, letting the soft fabric slip from her shoulders down to her waist, revealing her pale skin.
She turned off the dazzling lamp, and only the faint moonlight from outside remained.
She didn’t want to stop just yet.
Carrying these tangled emotions, even if she wanted to sleep, there was no way she could.
With a hint of mischievous malice, she hugged the dress tightly to her chest, lying on the spacious, exquisite bed, turning this way and that, her black hair spreading out like ink over the bedding.
Was she really going to do something like this?
Her longing was getting harder and harder to hold back. The feelings she usually suppressed when facing Su Ling could only be released in moments like this, alone.
Sista lowered her long eyelashes, running her fingertips lightly over her own chest, breathing carefully as she looked at her pale, glowing arms in the moonlight, crossed tightly over each other.
It was fine. No one would find out…
Just this once, only this one time. After tonight, she would never let herself lose control again.
After comforting herself again and again, she quietly drew up the bedding, then curled up, slipping her hand under the covers, her body trembling slightly.
As she gently inhaled the lingering scent left on the dress, her fingers moved faster between the fabric, her body slowly melting into a pleasant numbness.
“Su Ling, Su Ling…”
She couldn’t stop calling her name.
Su Ling…
Su Ling…
Sista called her name over and over again, something she would almost never do openly when they were together. But tonight, in this place where no one could see, she whispered it over and over.
The night stretched on, the stars gradually fading away, the moonlight growing dim and no longer lighting up the room. In this vast darkness, there remained only endless silence and tranquility, and a faint, nearly sacred sigh.
The cycles of all things blurred in the night, shrouded by a layer of divinity. Only the wind’s low whisper gained presence here, softly blowing in with the first signs of autumn, as if this was a deep, dreamy illusion in which one could lose themselves.
That night, Sista Anderson had a very long dream. When dawn finally arrived, she wanted to recall it, but could no longer remember the details.
She woke in the morning, eating the pastries Su Ling had prepared, talking about trivial matters.
She avoided Su Ling’s probing gaze, then attended the Blood Clan young lady’s reception, read some books to pass the time.
Matters of state, the affairs King Steyat occasionally mentioned, she still listened to, but now only in form; she was far less attentive than before.
Just like every day in the past, she was still the proud Princess of the Blood Clan, and Su Ling was still the Maid she controlled and kept at a distance.
One stood high above, one remained lowly—two parallel lines whose fates would never cross.
In that sense, nothing had changed.
What she did alone that night became a deep, hidden secret in Sista Anderson’s heart.
In any case, no one would ever know. That’s what she thought to herself.