Adopting Myself from the Young Heiress - Chapter 17

“Tuantuan, your fingers… they’re so hot too,” Yan Ciwei murmured with a soft chuckle, interlacing her fingers with An Chixu’s.

An Chixu was half-occupied with her work, half-held captive by Yan Ciwei’s touch.

Yan Ciwei guided her hand upward, tightening their grip.

“You really have a high fever,” Yan Ciwei said, feeling the heat radiating from An Chixu’s back. She cupped An Chixu’s face with tender affection, her eyes brimming with adoration.

“Is this… the first time we’ve been like this?” In the past, whenever An Chixu was sick, Yan Ciwei had wanted to cradle her in her arms every moment, never letting her exert herself.

Of course, she wasn’t making An Chixu work hard today either. All she needed was for her to offer one hand.

“Mmm…” An Chixu’s heart rate quickened, and beads of sweat glistened on her skin.

Her warm breath mingled with Yan Ciwei’s, carrying the scent of jasmine.

In moments like these, the bittersweet fragrance of geranium should have filled the air. But today, it felt unfamiliar.

Neither of them had been prepared for this sudden downpour.

Yan Ciwei only knew that she was savoring every moment.

Perhaps An Chixu felt the same.

An Chixu was dazed, her palms sweating profusely as she felt uncomfortably pressed against Yan Ciwei, trying to expand.

Yan Ciwei nestled against her chest, obediently molding herself into An Chixu’s shape, waiting for her next move.

“Tuantuan, I love you so much,” she murmured, accompanying each declaration with hundreds of gentle strokes across An Chixu’s cheek.

It was always like this. An Chixu seemed to take the lead, but in reality, Yan Ciwei, nestled in her palm, was the one orchestrating their dance, guiding her every move.

This time, it was even more complete.

An Chixu didn’t need to try.

She surrendered to the passive rhythm, closing her eyes.

The passionate dance, led entirely by Yan Ciwei, began. An Chixu simply had to be the one to enjoy it.

To savor Yan Ciwei’s softness and voice.

“Hot…” An Chixu murmured, nestled in Yan Ciwei’s arms.

It was over. Yan Ciwei still had the energy to kiss An Chixu’s temple, again and again, as if An Chixu were some delectable dessert she couldn’t get enough of.

“I’ll lower the AC by one degree,” Yan Ciwei said, turning over to grab the remote.

An Chixu instinctively rolled over with her, ending up pressed against Yan Ciwei’s back.

“Naughty,” Yan Ciwei chuckled from below.

An Chixu let out a muffled whine.

“My hands are sticky…” she complained, stretching out her warm hand like a child reaching for her mother as they settled back into their embrace.

She only needed to tell Yan Ciwei what was bothering her. Yan Ciwei would handle the rest.

“What do you want me to do?” Yan Ciwei asked, taking her hand without hesitation. Now they shared this absurdity.

“Hmm?” An Chixu tilted her head.

Already half-conscious, she was now utterly dazed, unable to understand why Yan Ciwei wasn’t helping her.

“Is that so?” Yan Ciwei was far more lucid than An Chixu, yet even more bewildered.

She lowered her head and kissed An Chixu’s fingers.

An Chixu froze, afraid to move.

The sensation was all too familiar. She had lived through eight years of such moments.

“Sister…” The endearment slipped out involuntarily, a name she had used countless times before.

Yan Ciwei’s kiss faltered for a moment, then grew even more frantic.

Only when An Chixu could no longer endure did Yan Ciwei finally stop, preventing her from escaping.

“Is it clean now?” Yan Ciwei squeezed An Chixu’s tense hand, forcefully prying it open to interlock their fingers.

“…Sticky.” It was all the same. Nothing was clean.

An Chixu frowned, looking at Yan Ciwei with a hint of displeasure.

“Your standards have gotten higher,” Yan Ciwei sighed, preparing to get up and fetch a towel.

But An Chixu caught her, pulling her down into an unexpected kiss.

“This is right,” An Chixu murmured, savoring Yan Ciwei’s taste.

This was how she could truly help her.

“…I’m sorry,” An Chixu murmured, her voice groggy as she regained consciousness briefly while Yan Ciwei changed her fever patch.

“I told you, it’s okay,” Yan Ciwei said softly, wringing out a warm towel and pressing it against An Chixu’s furrowed brow.

An Chixu frowned slightly.

Thinking Yan Ciwei hadn’t understood, she wanted to say more.

She had no intention of accepting Yan Ciwei.

Yet they had still taken another step forward.

It was she who had wronged Yan Ciwei, always.

Yan Ciwei casually brushed her fingers across An Chixu’s lips.

“What else do you want to say, Tuantuan?” Yan Ciwei couldn’t possibly misunderstand.

She simply lived with unwavering clarity, knowing exactly what she wanted.

She would be the hidden lover, the canary kept in the shadows, even the despised mistress—she didn’t care.

“Nothing,” An Chixu said, closing her mouth, afraid of angering her.

“Let’s take your temperature and see if you need more medicine,” Yan Ciwei said, satisfied, poking An Chixu’s cheek.

An Chixu followed Yan Ciwei’s gaze.

Clutching the blanket, Yan Ciwei hadn’t left her room.

Yan Ciwei had even brought the thermometer into the room.

This was the person who understood her best in the world.

An Chixu raised her arm, letting Yan Ciwei place the thermometer, lost in thought.

She didn’t need to explain so much, let alone apologize.

She would forgive her.

“Sister,” An Chixu murmured, inching closer to Yan Ciwei, who was lying down.

“Rest easy, Tuantuan,” Yan Ciwei said, glancing casually at the thermometer before setting it aside and pulling An Chixu into a tight embrace.

“I’m here,” she whispered, kissing An Chixu’s hair and cradling her fragile back.

An Chixu, feverish, only felt a wave of reassurance.

She closed her eyes, drifting into a hazy sleep.

But her dreams refused to leave her in peace.

She dreamed of the flu she’d had when she was seven years old.

Her two mothers had been arguing frequently since she was six.

The year she turned seven was their worst.

Their fights escalated from trivial matters like which cooking oil to use to fundamental disagreements about settling in this city and having children so soon after getting married.

Each argument ended with shattered dishes and clattering pots and pans. An Chixu would cower in corners or her room, knowing she was the perfect trigger for their rage.

That day, An Chixu came home from school feeling unwell but dared not tell them, fearing their anger. She locked herself in her room.

The evening was unexpectedly quiet. Her mother even prepared a full meal.

When An Chixu was called out of her room, she was dizzy and unsteady on her feet. Her mother slapped her hand, scolding her for walking like that.

An Chixu suppressed her coughs, dragged her feet, and forced herself to sit down.

“Will we get it next month?” her mother asked at the dinner table.

An Chixu lowered her head, counting the grains of rice one by one. There were twenty in this mouthful, enough to chew for a full minute.

Her mother paused, startled. “Ah… yes, I suppose so.”

“How much will it be?” Her mother smiled, a rare sight, and even placed a piece of meat on An Chixu’s plate, who was too upset to eat.

An Chixu still remembers the taste of that beef.

It had a faint, stale refrigerator smell, as if it had been stored for too long.

Overly seasoned with soy sauce, it was dark and salty.

The first bite was bitter, and no amount of chewing could break it down. She had to swallow it whole, the tough chunk lodging in her throat, burning and dry.

Only now does she understand why her parents had called a truce that day.

Her mother had received a bonus at work—a substantial sum. For this money, she was willing to put on a temporary smile.

Young An Chixu, who knew nothing of household finances, was willing to do anything for a brief moment of peace.

“Over twenty… nothing’s finalized yet. The higher-ups are difficult to deal with,” her mother said, clearly unwilling to discuss it further. She added a piece of carrot to An Chixu’s plate.

The carrots were just as poorly cooked. An Chixu, still teary-eyed from choking on the beef, was forced to swallow the undercooked, crunchy carrot.

She didn’t want her parents to start fighting again.

So she had to be good, obedient.

She finished all the food and carried the dishes to the sink.

If she could, she would wash them all.

After finishing her meal, An Chixu did exactly that, just as she had imagined.

The result was a shattered plate.

Her mother rushed in at the sound, her face etched with disappointment.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” An Chixu sneezed, frantically covering her nose as she crouched down to pick up the pieces.

“Alright, alright, you little rascal, trying to act so grown-up.” Her mother, in a good mood, didn’t scold her. She patted An Chixu’s shoulder and pulled her aside.

As she lifted her, their eyes met briefly, sending a jolt of fear through young An Chixu.

After regaining her balance, An Chixu gasped for air, tears and snot streaming down her face.

She hadn’t been scolded.

Her two dearest people hadn’t argued.

An Chixu’s body went limp, nearly collapsing. Her heart pounded wildly, strange emotions surging through her mind, desperate for an outlet.

“What’s wrong?” Her mother glanced at An Chixu, noticing her odd behavior, and reached out to touch her forehead.

“Ah, nothing. Maybe I’m just tired from PE class,” An Chixu blurted out, instinctively dodging her mother’s hand. She didn’t dare let her mother touch her head.

Her breathing remained ragged as she suppressed the acidic tears, refusing to let them spill.

“Playing so wildly, huh?” Her mother chuckled as she cleared the table.

“Just being a little girl,” she said, wrapping her arm around An Chixu’s back and leading her to the bathroom.

An Chixu’s eyes snapped open, jolted awake from her memories.

Her breathing was as rapid as it had been when she was seven years old. Tears, delayed by nearly twenty years, finally found their outlet—

She saw Yan Ciwei’s eyes.

Yan Ciwei was looking at her with concern.

Her beautiful peach blossom eyes were brimming with tears and worry.

An Chixu stared in shock, a fresh wave of tears spilling from her eyes.

Yan Ciwei’s eyes bore an uncanny resemblance to her own mother’s, sharing nearly seventy percent of their features.