Scarred Hearts — A Girls' Love Tale - Chapter 1

Yan Shuangfei stood by the window, her upper body bare, skin glowing with a pale, sickly light. Her jet-black hair flowed like a waterfall, cascading smoothly down her back. Hands stuffed into her trouser pockets, she tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes. The one-way glass allowed her to gaze freely at the sunset-painted sky.

Luo Qinghan gently pushed the door open, carrying a neatly folded stack of fresh clothes. Yan Shuangfei stood with her back to her, her shoulders wrapped in overlapping bandages that faintly revealed a bloody hue. Yan swayed slightly but did not turn around.

The air was thick with the smell of bl00d and the sharp sting of disinfectant, interwoven with the lingering trace of intimacy. Splattered bloodstains dotted the wooden floor, not yet cleaned, dark and jarring. They left a slight texture underfoot, a faint reminder of recent events.

“Why aren’t you resting in bed?” Luo Qinghan brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, placing the clothes on the bed. The freshly changed sheets seemed almost mocking in their newness. She instinctively smoothed the fabric, speaking softly, “Come here. Let me help you get dressed. You’ll catch a cold.”

Yan Shuangfei turned around, her finely sculpted features revealing an unhidden weariness. Yet she managed a gentle smile, walking over obediently. She let Luo Qinghan button her shirt, tucking the hem into her jeans with meticulous care, as if tending to a lover. But Yan Shuangfei was not a lover—far from it.

“I have to go back,” Yan Shuangfei said softly. She noticed the brief pause in Luo Qinghan’s practiced movements at those words.

Luo Qinghan nodded, lowering her gaze to hide the fleeting sadness in her eyes. “I understand.” She resumed her work, careful not to apply too much pressure, mindful of Yan’s freshly bandaged wounds. When she zipped up Yan’s jacket with a final tug, she smoothed out the creases and tidied Yan’s slightly disheveled hair.

“Will you come back?” Luo Qinghan asked cautiously, her voice trembling. She stared at the floor, smiling bitterly, waiting for an answer with faint hope.

Yan Shuangfei caught the emotions flickering across Luo Qinghan’s face, biting her dry lips before replying, “If you welcome me.”

Luo Qinghan’s head shot up, her expression of disbelief quickly replaced by a shy smile, as if embarrassed by her earlier vulnerability.

She’s still my Shuangfei.

“Then come often,” Luo Qinghan pleaded, hooking her pinky around Yan’s with a tone full of yearning.

“Alright.” Yan Shuangfei’s indifferent expression softened, a gentle smile breaking through.

She’s happy! Luo Qinghan thought, gazing at Yan Shuangfei’s deep eyes with a reluctant longing.

Yan Shuangfei leaned down, kissing Luo Qinghan’s hair before picking up a sword named Parting Shadows. “Do you still have Enduring Light, the sword I gave you when we were young?”

The Yan family had long been a martial household. Even in an age dominated by firearms, the habit of carrying cold weapons persisted. Yan Shuangfei’s gift of a treasured sword to Luo Qinghan had once caused her grandfather to explode with rage, calling her wasteful. Yet the Yan family’s indulgence left no room for taking back a given gift.

“Yes,” Luo Qinghan nodded eagerly. “How could I not? It’s the one thing I’ve held onto for eleven years.”

Satisfied, Yan Shuangfei smiled, her lips curving into a pleased arc as she hefted her sword and turned to leave.

Outside the door, the sunlight stretched her shadow long and thin, leaving Luo Qinghan leaning against the doorframe, staring after her.

Yan Shuangfei walked with her head slightly bowed, ignoring the stares of passersby, until she crossed paths with a line of black cars—the Yan family’s convoy parked neatly along the roadside, a glaring display of superiority.

“Young Mistress!” Su Cheng got out of the car, hurrying over to her.

“Who told you to make such a spectacle?” Yan Shuangfei frowned, irritation flashing across her pale face.

“The old master.” Su Cheng explained quickly, “He was worried when he heard you didn’t come home last night. When he also learned you’ve been searching for Miss Luo lately, he sent us to find you.”

Her grandfather? Yan Shuangfei nodded thoughtfully. “Su Cheng, I want to see all the records from eleven years ago about the severed ties between the Yan and Luo families tonight.”

“Those have been sealed by the old master. No one can access them,” Su Cheng hesitated.

“Then get his permission!” Yan Shuangfei snapped, the scabbard of her sword hitting the pavement with a dull thud. “I am the head of the Yan family now, not him.”

Su Cheng flinched slightly, quickly nodding his agreement.

Yan Shuangfei rubbed her temples wearily. “You go ahead. I’ll follow shortly.”

Back at the Yan estate, her grandfather Yan Huaiyuan sat calmly at his desk, sipping tea and reading. Though his hair was streaked with gray, his aura of authority remained undiminished.

“Shuangfei, come sit,” he greeted warmly.

She complied, sitting down across from him.

“You saw her?”

“Yes.” Yan Shuangfei knew exactly who he meant.

“She didn’t kill you?” he asked bluntly.

Why would she? Yan Shuangfei thought, frowning.

“I know you’ve always liked her since you were young. Did she do anything to you?” The old man’s curiosity was unrestrained. “I noticed your clothes are different. Did you two…?”

Caught off guard, Yan Shuangfei choked on her tea, the heat stinging her throat and bringing tears to her eyes. The ache in her back reminded her of her injuries—and of Luo Qinghan’s touch.

“You’re twenty-one and still a virgin—well, not anymore,” her grandfather chuckled. “I always thought you two had a spark. What a shame…”

A shame indeed. The Yan family, once allied with the Luo family, had severed ties abruptly.

That night, Yan Shuangfei lay flat on her bed, staring at the ceiling, pondering the truth behind the feud between the two families. Her brother’s assassination eleven years ago, driven by the Luo family’s selfish decisions, had set everything in motion. Her grandfather had retaliated mercilessly, severing all ties and exacting revenge.

Meanwhile, Luo Qinghan curled up on her bed, clutching Yan Shuangfei’s shirt tightly, inhaling its familiar scent. Her mind drifted back to their first meeting. Yan Shuangfei, still a child, had dragged a sword taller than herself, bloodied but unflinching.

“I’m Yan Shuangfei,” she had said confidently, extending a hand stained with bl00d.

“I’m Luo Qinghan,” came the equally bold reply.

Two fated names destined to intertwine for a lifetime.