Adopting Myself from the Young Heiress - Chapter 16

Little An Chixu’s health was even worse.

She hadn’t yet reached the average height for her age, malnourished and constantly catching colds, with her family paying her no attention.

She didn’t understand anything about illnesses or medicine, and she was too lazy to ask her mother or even see a doctor.

Whenever she fell sick, she stubbornly endured it, refusing to take medicine or rest properly, somehow dragging herself through until she turned sixteen.

From their first meeting, Yan Ciwei knew An Chixu was in poor health.

Though both sixteen, An Chixu was nearly half a head shorter than her, a frail, petite figure hiding in the shadows. Her skin was pale and bloodless, and the bones of her arms, chest, and abdomen were clearly visible, like a stray cat left to fend for itself.

Six months later, Yan Ciwei became the stray cat’s owner, naturally wanting to care for her little cat’s health.

An Chixu disliked going to the hospital and immediately began making excuses when Yan Ciwei suggested it.

The stray cat’s evasiveness was quite amusing. She would never directly state what she wanted, instead resorting to endless excuses and roundabout arguments.

“Tuantuan, let’s go see a traditional Chinese medicine doctor. I know a really good one.”

Yan Ciwei first proposed this in October of their first year of high school.

It was right after a long holiday. Yan Ciwei secretly stayed with An Chixu in her dorm room for seven days.

They did homework together on campus, ate surprisingly improved cafeteria meals, and ran wildly across the sports field in the rain.

Perhaps from running too hard, An Chixu caught a cold and spent the last three days confined to the dorm.

Whenever Yan Ciwei was there, the other roommates tactfully left.

At the time, An Chixu didn’t notice this, simply feeling comforted by the absence of others.

She could carve out a small space, inviting Yan Ciwei’s presence.

Yan Ciwei could hug her without restraint, ruffle her unruly hair, and spoon-feed her medicine.

An Chixu rarely took medicine when sick. Her mouth was bitter enough; the medicine only made it worse.

But with Yan Ciwei by her side, even the bitterest things turned sweet.

An Chixu stayed put for three days, recovering faster than ever before.

Afterward, Yan Ciwei suggested taking her for treatment.

“This weekend?” An Chixu’s almond-shaped eyes flashed with panic, her brows furrowing in resistance. Yan Ciwei saw it all clearly.

“We’ll go Friday night. I’ll talk to the Old Class Teacher—she won’t object to you seeing a doctor.”

Yan Ciwei had subtly claimed An Chixu’s desk as her own, propping her chin on her hand and gazing at her.

An Chixu lowered her head.

Clutching her pen, her fingertips turned white as she wrote, her handwriting remained tiny, neat, and delicate—a challenge for the teacher’s eyes.

“But… the math test is on Thursday, and we get the results on Friday. We have to correct our mistakes during evening self-study,” An Chixu said, her voice barely audible as she ducked her head further. She was terrible at hiding her feelings but remarkably skilled at forgetting herself.

“It’s okay, just tell her. Your health comes first,” Yan Ciwei said, knowing An Chixu didn’t want to go.

She couldn’t decide if she was teasing An Chixu or determined to take her away.

At the time, Yan Ciwei told herself that An Chixu’s health was too poor and needed proper care—even taking a break from school wouldn’t be excessive.

She was doing it for Tuantuan’s own good.

“The math teacher is really strict… she might not agree…” This was An Chixu’s second refusal.

Her voice grew softer, gradually matching the tininess of her handwriting.

In this vast world, she was less than a lone leaf on the water, perhaps just a grain of salt dissolving into the sea, vanishing in an instant.

The classroom buzzed with chatter during break. With rain keeping everyone indoors, students gathered in lively groups.

Yan Ciwei still heard An Chixu’s words clearly.

No matter how many people were around, An Chixu’s gentle voice always stood out, like the soft rain outside the window—impossible to miss when it fell.

“I can go for you. She won’t be mad at you,” Yan Ciwei said with a smile, her eyes crinkling as she reached out to press her hand against An Chixu’s ear.

Startled, An Chixu, who had been pretending to work on a problem but had long since lost focus, abruptly turned her head.

Their eyes met, and the words of refusal caught in An Chixu’s throat, only to be swept away by Yan Ciwei’s unwavering smile.

She couldn’t bring herself to utter a single word of protest, silently lowering her head.

She silently allowed Yan Ciwei to cover her ears and eyes, to listen and see for her.

She silently allowed Yan Ciwei to take her hand and lead her to the clinic.

On Friday afternoon, An Chixu slowly packed her things.

Her deskmate glanced at her, then at Yan Ciwei’s empty seat in front, understanding dawning.

The deskmate tactfully stood up to let An Chixu pass, covering her face with a sigh as An Chixu shuffled out. I want a sweet romance too, she thought wistfully.

“J-just the two of us?” An Chixu asked, finding Yan Ciwei arguing with the security guard at the gate.

The guard let them through. Yan Ciwei gently took An Chixu’s wrist. “That’s right. For a doctor’s visit, we don’t need an adult. The doctor is enough.”

But without an adult, how would they get a number, wait in line, or pay?

And how would she describe her symptoms?

She clearly wasn’t sick anymore; her body felt fine.

An Chixu couldn’t shake her nervousness, clinging to Yan Ciwei’s hand the entire time.

Yan Ciwei led her, handling all the preparations.

By the time the actual examination came, An Chixu had relaxed considerably.

The traditional Chinese medicine doctor simply took her pulse and examined her tongue.

“Doctor, she’s a bit weak. Could you check if there’s anything we can do to help her recover?” Yan Ciwei helped describe An Chixu’s condition.

After taking her pulse, the doctor directly stated her issues:

Frequent dreams and restless sleep Easily fatigued Insufficient nutrient intake

The doctor prescribed a list of dietary restrictions and gave the prescription to Yan Ciwei.

Throughout the entire visit, An Chixu only needed to follow behind Yan Ciwei, holding her hand.

And just like that, the doctor’s visit was over… The weight on An Chixu’s chest slowly lifted.

So, she didn’t have to endure scolding, get lost in crowded lines, or lower her head in large crowds while listening to her mother argue on the phone. She didn’t have to pay, only to have her mother angrily throw the credit card at her face.

Yan Ciwei would hold her hand tightly.

She didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

Yan Ciwei took over the task of brewing and delivering An Chixu’s medicine, also serving as her personal alarm clock, reminding her to take her medicine at precisely the right time each day.

After the second class ended, Yan Ciwei stood beside An Chixu’s desk.

Her deskmate glanced at Yan Ciwei and immediately understood it was time to leave, awkwardly gathering two friends to go to the restroom.

Yan Ciwei sat down next to An Chixu, holding a thermos.

“Afraid of the bitterness?” she asked, stirring the still-warm herbal medicine and winking playfully at An Chixu.

An Chixu shook her head slightly, her gaze fixed intently on Yan Ciwei’s face.

“Drink it first. I prepared it for you,” Yan Ciwei said, lowering her head to sip from the rim of the cup to check the temperature before handing it to An Chixu.

An Chixu drank the medicine in one gulp, taking it from the spot where Yan Ciwei had just tested the temperature.

It wasn’t actually that bitter. An Chixu closed her eyes, the warm steam from the medicine still lingering on her eyelids.

Yan Ciwei’s breath brushed against her ear. An Chixu carefully discerned, even tasting a hint of Yan Ciwei’s scent.

Perhaps it was Yan Ciwei’s shower gel, a light and lingering lemon fragrance.

Or perhaps it was the perfume Yan Ciwei occasionally wore, a delicate jasmine snow bud scent. An Chixu had once spent an entire afternoon holding Yan Ciwei close, simply inhaling her scent.

Perhaps it was the lingering scent of Yan Ciwei’s lip balm. Strawberry or chocolate, the cloyingly sweet aroma made An Chixu want to lick the rim of the cup.

When she set the cup down, Yan Ciwei praised her, “Good job, Tuantuan!” as if complimenting a baby.

“It’s nothing…” An Chixu blushed, biting her lip in mild annoyance, only to have Yan Ciwei pop a candy into her mouth.

Yan Ciwei’s fingertip brushed lightly against An Chixu’s lips, sending a shiver through her.

The candy was also strawberry-flavored, tasting purely of fruit sweetness without any artificial notes.

Even the slow-witted An Chixu could tell from this single candy that Yan Ciwei’s family was no ordinary one.

But did it really matter?

An Chixu silently pushed the candy into her mouth, savoring the melting strawberry sweetness.

Yan Ciwei would take her to the doctor, brew medicine for her, and feed her candy.

They could stay close forever.

“I’m so jealous of you two,” An Chixu’s deskmate said, turning around and leaning over her original spot after Yan Ciwei finished administering the medicine.

Yan Ciwei casually leaned closer to An Chixu. “Jealous of what? She’s just sick and taking medicine.”

She couldn’t possibly be unaware of what An Chixu’s deskmate meant.

Even the tips of An Chixu’s ears flushed crimson.

Yan Ciwei continued to play dumb, hooking her arm around An Chixu’s neck and dismissing their classmate, who had been trying to join the conversation, with a few casual words.

“There’s nothing to envy,” the Study Monitor chimed in from the row ahead, still holding the test papers she’d just retrieved from the teacher’s office. Only her clique got them early; she’d delay distributing the rest until the second evening study session.

“How old are you? Still needing someone to remind you to take your medicine and even feed it to you? How pathetic.”

Someone nudged her, urging her to stop.

Yan Ciwei’s smile remained fixed on her face, but the warmth in her eyes vanished instantly.

“Having someone your own age act like your mom? How embarrassing!” the Study Monitor retorted, grabbing the person who had tried to stop her.

“Don’t like it?” Yan Ciwei asked, her voice still calm and even.

Suddenly, something struck the Study Monitor’s head.

She turned to see An Chixu frowning and shrinking away, clearly distancing herself from Yan Ciwei. Satisfied, the Study Monitor ignored the pain and shut her mouth, though a sneer lingered on her face.

“Of course you don’t like it. After all, you’ve never known what it’s like to be cared for,” Yan Ciwei said, taking An Chixu’s hand and grabbing the thermos containing her medicine. With those parting words, she left the classroom.

Outside the classroom, An Chixu shook off Yan Ciwei’s hand.

Her movements were usually gentle, but this time she used force, catching Yan Ciwei completely off guard.

“Tuantuan… are you angry?” Yan Ciwei asked, clutching her hand and still trying to approach An Chixu.

We’re the closest people to each other. Why should we care about what others think?

Or does An Chixu not want my care?

That one shake had exhausted all of An Chixu’s courage. Her eyes darted around, even more lost than Yan Ciwei’s, and her teeth began to chatter.

She regretted it the moment she did it.

An Chixu lowered her head, avoiding Yan Ciwei’s gaze.

She imagined those eyes must be filled with reproach and disappointment, like a pair of sharp blades.

She could only stare at the safe floor, her shoes looming large and blurry, triggering her dizziness.

If only I could faint right now, that would be the safest escape.

The bell rang for class. An Chixu didn’t get her wish to collapse.

“I… I’ll remember to drink it myself. Thank you,” An Chixu said, snatching the thermos from Yan Ciwei’s arms with her eyes closed. Her steps unsteady, she stumbled back into the classroom.

Yan Ciwei stood frozen at the doorway for a long time. Only when the subject teacher entered the classroom did she finally return to her seat.

She lowered her lashes, concealing the emotions in her eyes.

On a scrap of paper, she wrote the Study Monitor’s name and then crossed it out with a decisive stroke.

Two days later, the Study Monitor dropped out of school.

An Chixu, clutching her thermos, stared at the empty seat. A possibility flashed through her mind, and the world seemed to spin around her.

Throughout the entire first class, she kept her gaze fixed on the thermos on her desk, occasionally glancing sideways at Yan Ciwei, who sat diagonally in front of her.

She wanted to look at Yan Ciwei, but she didn’t dare.

Unbeknownst to An Chixu, Yan Ciwei had placed a vanity mirror on her desk, which always reflected An Chixu’s image.

Yan Ciwei observed every one of An Chixu’s movements.

During the mid-morning break, Yan Ciwei abruptly pulled An Chixu to a secluded spot behind the school building, where hardly anyone passed by.

“Yan… Yan Ciwei, what’s wrong? We can’t… we can’t skip the break,” An Chixu stammered, her knuckles white as she gripped the hem of her uniform, her mind racing.

“It’s okay,” Yan Ciwei reassured her, her voice still gentle and reassuring, not at all the intimidating figure An Chixu had imagined.

She took An Chixu’s trembling hand, gently prying open her clenched fingers one by one to prevent her nails from digging into her palm. Then, she interlaced their fingers, locking them together.

“I’m the class representative, remember? I got you excused from class,” Yan Ciwei said, drawing no closer.

There was no embrace, no hug or arm around her shoulder, nothing beyond their clasped hands.

Yan Ciwei simply held onto An Chixu’s anxiety.

“You forgot your medicine again this morning, didn’t you, my Tuantuan?” Yan Ciwei retrieved the thermos with her free hand.

Taking advantage of An Chixu’s surprise, Yan Ciwei pressed the lid onto the thermos, their hands still clasped together.

Yan Ciwei’s palm was on top, pressed firmly against An Chixu’s.

Trapped, An Chixu had no choice but to place her hand on the lid as well, following Yan Ciwei’s lead to twist it open.

Then, under Yan Ciwei’s guidance, she was forced to hold the cup and feed herself the medicine.

Yet, surprisingly, An Chixu didn’t feel uncomfortable.

The moment Yan Ciwei took her hand, all the anxiety of the past two days vanished.

The torment of regret, the exhaustion from sleepless nights, the bitter longing she dared not indulge during the day…

All melted into a warm, soft sensation in her palm.

An Chixu no longer cared about the Study Monitor.

She only wanted to reconcile with Yan Ciwei.

“Tuantuan, look,” Yan Ciwei said, pulling out her phone.

On the touchscreen device—the only one she used—a medical record was displayed, belonging to the Study Monitor.

“Her mental state isn’t good. Her family has decided to have her withdraw from school for half a year. If she improves by next year, she’ll rejoin the new first-year class.”

Standing at a higher vantage point, Yan Ciwei casually used her shadow to shield An Chixu from the harsh autumn sun, providing shade.

With a single sentence, she sealed the Study Monitor’s fate.

“I see…” An Chixu said, completely unconcerned.

Let’s just say the Study Monitor took a year off due to mental health issues. That person has nothing to do with me.

As long as Yan Ciwei can forgive me, even a little, that’s enough.

An Chixu tilted her head upward.

She saw Yan Ciwei’s face backlit, her features blurred and ambiguous, her silhouette a dark mass. Wisps of hair at her temples caught the light, shimmering like scattered sparks as they drifted toward An Chixu in the breeze.

She couldn’t see Yan Ciwei’s eyes clearly.

But she could imagine her expression. It must be the same as always: vast and tolerant, gentle as the sea, steady as a mirror.

This was a gaze only An Chixu knew. After all, when Yan Ciwei looked at her, there was always a different emotion in her eyes.

An Chixu might be slow to notice, but she wasn’t stupid. She could tell at a glance when someone treated her differently.

She was so familiar with this emotion that she used to calmly let Yan Ciwei gaze at her.

But now, she wanted to get closer.

To see Yan Ciwei properly.

Their hands remained clasped tightly, hanging downward.

Their breaths mingled in the sunlight, carried away by stray strands of hair.

An Chixu didn’t realize she was standing on tiptoe, trying to meet Yan Ciwei’s eyes.

At that moment, Yan Ciwei took a step forward.

She didn’t retreat, didn’t look away. She stared directly back at An Chixu.

Later, An Chixu would realize that this was probably the first time she had wanted to kiss Yan Ciwei.

But neither of them had the courage then.

Their gazes locked, igniting a wave of heat.

For the first time, An Chixu’s eyes shifted from Yan Ciwei’s eyes to her lips.

She studied them intently, noticing their fullness and rosy hue amidst her trembling body and the hazy sunlight.

I want to kiss them. I want to bite them. At that moment, An Chixu couldn’t decipher her own feelings.

Yan Ciwei gripped her shoulder, the most intimate gesture An Chixu could accept.

Yan Ciwei leaned in close, their bodies nearly forming an embrace.

Suddenly, Yan Ciwei lowered her head.

Before An Chixu closed her eyes, she saw Yan Ciwei shielding her from the harsh sunlight.

The glare was so intense that tears welled in An Chixu’s eyes.

A piece of candy forced its way between her tightly pressed lips.

Yan Ciwei was merely feeding An Chixu the candy she had been sucking on after taking her medicine.

Mouth to mouth.

The candy was cloyingly sweet.

It felt like an incomplete kiss.

At sixteen, neither of them dared to break the unspoken rules.

 

Ten years later, they were still in a relationship where they couldn’t freely kiss each other.

But Yan Ciwei had never left, and An Chixu, delirious with fever, couldn’t resist.

“I’ve missed you too…” An Chixu said, her smile tinged with tears, her tears betraying guilt and shame.

Unlike Yan Ciwei, she didn’t even dare to voice her longing.

She feared that if she spoke, her two years of perseverance and effort would vanish, and she would willingly return to the beautiful cage Yan Ciwei had built, personally tying the rope engraved with Yan Ciwei’s name.

The words left only the bitter taste of medicine.

Yan Ciwei paid no heed to her inner turmoil.

Having gone so long without hearing her beloved’s confession, even a single word of longing was enough to soothe the wounds left by her lover’s departure.

An Chixu’s faint expression of affection was like seawater seeping into Yan Ciwei’s wounds, stimulating her.

Painful, yet with a refreshing sense of rebirth.

Yan Ciwei’s breathing quickened.

She leaned down, cupping the back of An Chixu’s head, intensifying the heat already radiating from her feverish skin.

“Tuantuan,” Yan Ciwei murmured, stopping An Chixu from speaking.

Taking that soft call as a signal, she lowered her head without hesitation.

She nearly charged forward, biting open An Chixu’s lips.

An Chixu, who had been preparing herself, struggled to hook her arms around Yan Ciwei’s neck.

Yan Ciwei wouldn’t let her strain herself.

She lowered An Chixu to the ground, her hand remaining firmly on the back of her head, preventing her from dangling and creating unnecessary tension.

Just meeting in such circumstances, with their identities and this unexpected kiss, was enough to make them both nervous.

Both women eagerly anticipated what would come next.

Yan Ciwei exhaled, allowing An Chixu to catch her breath.

Tears welled in An Chixu’s eyes, blurring her vision. For a moment, she couldn’t clearly see Yan Ciwei’s movements.

Lost in her feverish haze, she wanted only to immerse herself in pleasure.

Responsibilities, ethics, morality—none of it mattered.

As for the inner struggle to save herself, the voice tearing at her, urging her to stop—it was all blocked out by instinct.

Her instincts had long been conditioned, molded into a form that loved Yan Ciwei.

Now that she was nothing but an empty shell, only this instinct remained vivid.

An Chixu slowly reached out to grasp Yan Ciwei’s hem.

Yan Ciwei took her hand and firmly wrapped it around her waist.

An Chixu could be lazy, reckless, or completely still.

Yan Ciwei would always adjust her rhythm to match hers, guiding her.

This unspoken understanding between them was eternal, unchanged even after ten thousand years of separation.

An Chixu closed her eyes, a wave of peace washing over her.

When their lips parted again, she tasted a hint of sweetness.

Strawberry-flavored candy.

Still the same pure, unflavored taste, with its natural fruit acidity and sweetness.

The flavor was identical to what she remembered from ten years ago, instantly triggering a flood of memories.

Yet the sensation was completely different.

As a sixteen-year-old, she had been too afraid to love, forced to express her feelings through glances alone.

Now, ten years later, she was still unable to love, each kiss accompanied by a dense, stinging pain in her chest.

Both times, it was fear that held her back.

Meanwhile, Yan Ciwei skillfully stimulated her sensitive spots, tightening her nerves.

Yan Ciwei’s gentle kisses nearly stole An Chixu’s breath.

With each kiss, Yan Ciwei would pause briefly, as if silently calling her name: Tuantuan… Tuantuan…

A slight lift, then another kiss.

An Chixu couldn’t catch her breath. Oxygen slowly drained away, leaving her dependent on Yan Ciwei’s kisses for air.

She was on the verge of suffocating, yet the sweet taste in her mouth made her reluctant to stop.

Her movements slowed, her reactions dulled.

Like a doll, she was manipulated and kissed by Yan Ciwei, without even a sound of protest.

Just kill me like this, An Chixu thought dazedly.

That way, she wouldn’t have to suffer, and Yan Ciwei might finally find peace.

Yan Ciwei stopped just before An Chixu reached her limit, pulling back slightly to give her a moment to breathe.

An Chixu gasped like someone waking from drowning, her chest heaving. Her eyes, when she looked at Yan Ciwei, held a hint of disappointment.

“Tuantuan, you’re still as adorable as ever,” Yan Ciwei said, maintaining a slight distance, the silver thread still suspended in the air.

She lay beside An Chixu, her hand still cradling her head and shoulder.

An Chixu remained under her control.

“You couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t tell me? You were just waiting for me to notice?” Yan Ciwei gently stroked An Chixu’s hair and pinched her cheek.

She kissed her three times. They even shared a piece of candy.

Yan Ciwei’s mood was brighter than it had been on any day in the past two years, almost giddy.

“Tuantuan, my Tuantuan…” She leaned down and hugged An Chixu tightly.

She caressed An Chixu’s cheeks and neck, her fingers lingering intimately over the pulse point on her throat.

An Chixu’s hands were completely pinned against Yan Ciwei’s chest, forced to feel the contours of her body.

She was intimately familiar with this sensation, having experienced it countless times in reality and in dreams.

It was her favorite feeling. After all, Yan Ciwei was the person she loved most.

So soft.

Perhaps it was the heat, but Yan Ciwei felt even softer than usual, like cotton.

An Chixu, constantly stimulated by her touch, felt her palms gradually grow damp with sweat.

Waves of heat rolled over them.

An Chixu suddenly opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

The ceiling belonged to Yan Ciwei.

Today, she would belong to Yan Ciwei too.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice as delicate as her neat handwriting from her student days.

“It doesn’t matter,” Yan Ciwei said with a faint smile, knowing what An Chixu meant. She felt helpless, yet couldn’t help but indulge her.

“It really doesn’t matter.” The fact that her Tuantuan was willing to embrace her again and obey her was enough.

She didn’t care if it was only temporary.

“I’ll forgive you. No matter how many times.” After all, An Chixu was her Tuantuan.

Just as she had reached out to hold her hand again after An Chixu had shaken it off years ago, now that An Chixu hated her, she would only love her back even more.

“Really? You’ll forgive me no matter what?” An Chixu propped herself up, wanting to sit on Yan Ciwei’s lap.

She wanted… to belong to Yan Ciwei.

In a grown-up way.

But Yan Ciwei simply reached out and pressed a finger to her lips.

You don’t need to say anything.

Yan Ciwei stood up, gently laid An Chixu back down, and tucked her in.

Then she sat on top of An Chixu.

Taking An Chixu’s hand, she guided it downward.

Outside, the rain pattered softly against the window.

Following An Chixu’s guided hand, the rain officially descended between the folds of Yan Ciwei’s skirt.

I’ll just mention one fruit:

Navel oranges~

I went to take an exam yesterday and couldn’t write. I’ll try to update daily for the next few days!