After Being Betrayed by Bai Yueguang, She Said She Wanted to Keep Me as a Mistress (Pure Yuri) - 07 R-Rated Movie (Part 1) [Slightly H]

07 R-Rated Movie (Part 1) [Slightly H]

“Did you eat lunch? That’s so little. Hey, I know a place with great roasted squab, thirty bucks each. But it’s a bit far—forty minutes’ drive. Wanna go?”

“No need, I’m not hungry.”

“What did you eat?”

“Instant noodles, I’m full.”

“Here, give it to me.”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

Putting her luggage in the trunk, Zhou Pinyue closed her eyes and thought: Today, this is a dazzling central air conditioner.

The car cruised smoothly on the city’s ring road. There was no music playing. It was making it more awkward.

“Tomorrow, maybe wake up at 7? Then take the subway straight to the venue,” 

Cheng Yafei said. 

“Heard the entry line’s brutal. Let’s go early.”

Accepting favors was tough.

“Okay. And really, nothing I should do?”

“Hm? Do what?”

“To repay you. Tell me what to do.”

The faint roar of wind slipped through the glass—or maybe it was her heartbeat.

“I told you, no other demands. If anything, what do *you* want?”

“My demand is splitting a ticket…”

“Haha, then we’re good.”

“For my peace of mind, at least make something up.”

“Hmm, let me think…”

The car’s AI announced an exit ramp. And the turn signal clicked.

Some intense play? In fanfiction, this would be the prelude to an R18 scene, with A telling B, “Kneel down.” It would then be followed by a cliché image: a queen with a whip in one hand, a leash in the other, stepping on a dog’s butt…

“Can you watch a movie with me? And, uh, a date. How long are you staying?”

Not even PG-13.

Weren’t they fvck buddies?

“A date?”

“Yeah, a date.”

“Doing what exactly? And which movie?”

“Dunno, let’s figure it out later.”

“I haven’t bought a return ticket.”

A sharp brake jolted Zhou Pinyue forward.

At the 120-second red light, after shifting to park, Cheng Yafei spoke. 

“C-Could you stay a few more days?”

“…Focus on driving first.”

“Sorry.”

“Let me check what’s playing. Today?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Waiting at the light, the driver’s seat felt awkward. Besides striking an old-school arm-on-window pose, checking the phone was too brief. And staring at scenery was too bland. If you couldn’t chat, you’d end up like Cheng Yafei. She was fidgeting for something to do without knowing what.

Slow internet, page loading, Zhou Pinyue glanced over. She caught the comical scene. She was smirking to hide a laugh.

In that brief moment, a cloud drifted away. Sunlight pierced the windshield. It was hitting the dashboard and her arm.

A brown butterfly rested on the hood.

“There’s a butterfly,” 

Zhou Pinyue said.

“Really?” 

Cheng Yafei leaned forward. 

“I’ll find money today.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It’s good luck.”

“Hard to find money these days.”

“Which makes it luckier.”

“True.”

The light turned green. The car moved. It nearly blew the butterfly’s wings parallel to the engine. But it clung on.

In that moment, Zhou Pinyue realized why she kissed that hand in the sunset.

Even sunlight through a random window favored her. Butterflies brought her luck on the street—impossible to shake. It was the opposite of Zhou Pinyue.

—If only I could have some. Joy, happiness, beauty.

—If only I could live like that once.

She wanted to devour it, touching it with her mouth. Sun, glow, warmth—all hers. It was like a water ghost dragging her into the abyss of her heart, drowning.

“Love” was terrifying. It was consuming. It was clearly a desire to destroy the other, not love. Prioritizing self, full of demands, gazing, craving fulfillment, possessing, controlling, even forcing, self-indulgently “sacrificing.” More disgusting than betrayal.

Wasn’t this disgust perfect for revenge?

“Nothing good’s playing, it seems.”

“Then pick some at my place? I’ve got a projector.”

“No home theater?”

“That’s at my mom’s.”

“Hm, noted.”

“It’s my mom’s, I said.”

“Got it, got it.”

They used to watch movies together. Once, an animated blockbuster, a magical girl monster-fight flick. It was cheesy to the masses but loved in fan circles. Cheng Yafei was a gamer. She didn’t watch anime but was curious about everything. She asked why Zhou Pinyue liked it.

Because those films didn’t revolve around men. And virtual characters were easier than real people. Their thoughts were open to viewers—no guessing, no tug-of-war, no doubting truth—a perfect ideal.

Another time, a mother-daughter drama. The mother was so warm. Cheng Yafei was unmoved. She was teasing Zhou Pinyue’s tears post-show. She turned away, protesting, 

‘Just thinking, if my mom hugged me like that once. And I wasn’t loud, didn’t bother you.’

‘Then hug her at home.’

‘She’d call me crazy.’

Hearing this, Cheng Yafei stopped smiling. In the exit hallway, she handed her a tissue. She then said, 

‘Can I hug you instead?’

It sounded like a generational leap joke. So they laughed. After, Cheng Yafei looked into her eyes. She was gentle and cautious. 

‘But I mean it. I can hug you.’

Their first hug.

She wanted to hold tighter.

But watching magical girl or tearjerker mother-daughter films with a fvck buddy was a no-go—the first she’d take too seriously, the second she’d cry.

Romantic movies were too cliché.

Horror could work. But imagining a “oh, baby, I’m so scared” scene gave her goosebumps.

“How about Pearl?” 

Zhou Pinyue said finally.

“That female killer flick?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, I wanted to see it too.”

They went straight home. Only when the lights dimmed, sitting on the couch, did Zhou Pinyue realize why dates often involved movies.

So that’s it—sitting together in the dark. She’d drawn such scenes but only followed formulas.

For a date movie, home was best. In a theater, locking eyes, licking fingers suggestively, was immoral and caught on cameras. Forget it.

The film wasn’t scary. It was just R-rated gore to Zhou Pinyue. But Cheng Yafei gripped her hand. She forgot her canned beer, turning it into a balancing act. When Pearl stabbed victims with a pitchfork, Zhou Pinyue toyed with her rounded fingertip—manicured nails, clear wrist veins, forearm perfect for anatomy reference.

Soon, Cheng Yafei’s attention shifted to her.

Zhou Pinyue asked boldly, 

“That day, didn’t you feel anything?”

“Which day?”

“When we slept together. Didn’t you take care of yourself after?”

“I didn’t mean *that* today.”

“Then what?”

“Really, just a date—dinner, movies, that stuff. Not… sleeping with you.”

Cheng Yafei tried pulling her hand back. But it failed. It looked like a shy teen in love. Where was the “pay you to be my fvck buddy” persona?

“But this is an R-rated movie.”

“Not *that* kind of R.”

“Don’t you want to?”

Her tongue licked the fingertip, nibbled the nail, grazed the webbing, and kissed the lifeline. She was leaning low. She gazed up questioningly. Who couldn’t seduce? Zhou Pinyue was confident she could outdo this woman.

Those eyes blinked nervously. They were darting around. She finally set the beer down.

“I do want to.”

With approval, she slid her hand under the woman’s T-shirt. She freed the tucked hem and hooking tight jeans. Her fingers were squeezed between skin and fabric.

As the hem lifted, the cool abdomen tensed. It yielded space.

“Lie down?” 

Zhou Pinyue said. She was kissing from jaw to collarbone. She pushed her onto the couch, head on the armrest. The narrow space forced them close. Heat was radiating through fabric between their legs.

Her palm grazed light sweat. It moved from lower back up the spine. It was searching for a bra clasp, finding none—not a tank top either. 

“Uh, it’s front-clasp,” 

Cheng Yafei said against her shoulder. She lifted her shirt to her neckline.

Wow, clearly intentional—not everyday wear. Lacy, patterned, slightly sheer sides, black.

Should she play along?

She couldn’t resist.

“You wear this normally?” 

Zhou Pinyue poked near the n1pple. She was raising an eyebrow.

“Ahem, just felt like trying it. Haven’t worn a bra in ages.”

“You’re a n1pple-tape girl?”

“…Sorta.”

*Click.*

“I’m so lazy now, sometimes skip tape. It’s too hot either way.”

“Yeah, summers lately are like that.”

Casual chat. But her voice shook hard.

The bra cups hung loosely over the mounds. Zhou Pinyue didn’t move them. She just reached in, touching hardened n1pples. She leaned. She kissed the valley between. Her tongue was teasing the other side’s areola.

Cheng Yafei gripped her shoulders. She was humming higher than normal speech.

After a bit, Zhou Pinyue paused. Her chin was between her br3asts. She said dryly, 

“Just so you know, I’m not good at this.”

“…Huh?”

“Only doing the upper body.”

“No worries, follow my… ouch!”

Mid-sentence, Zhou Pinyue bit the br3ast flesh hard. She repaid the earlier butt bite. She then undid the jeans’ button, satisfied.

“I mean, I’ll only do your upper body. You handle the rest yourself.”