Scarred Hearts — A Girls' Love Tale - Chapter 18

With a flick of the wrist, a black whip spun beautifully through the air before landing with a sharp crack on Yan Shuangfei’s exposed back, cutting through the air with a piercing whistle.

The one being whipped didn’t seem to care at all. She stared lazily at a painting on the wall. The warm room was filled with a cloying, sweet scent. When the air stopped circulating, that scent lingered in the nose, refusing to fade.

Another snap. A fresh red mark appeared on her back, bruised and purplish underneath. Tiny beads of bl00d began to seep out, trembling as they emerged and slowly merging into a thin stream that trickled downward.

Not enough. Nowhere near enough.

Luo Qinghan narrowed her eyes, carefully watching the crisscrossing trails of bl00d spreading across the pale skin, the vivid colors painting a strangely beautiful image.

With precise aim, the whip struck the same wound again. The person facing away from her had her head bowed, long hair hanging down—some strands draped over her shoulders, others stuck to her bloodied back, dark red seeping through the black.

Yan Shuangfei’s body flinched slightly with the blow, but quickly stilled again. The momentary attempt to ease the pain didn’t help much.

Compared to belts or rattan canes, Luo Qinghan preferred whips with barbed edges. They didn’t require much force to cause real damage. Just a light flick could produce immediate, visible results. That bright red was far more striking than the dull bruises trapped beneath the skin.

Luo Qinghan was exhausted, but her hand didn’t stop. She kept striking, mercilessly, until bl00d soaked through Yan Shuangfei’s pants and dripped onto the floor, leaving scattered droplets like plum blossoms.

Her arm gradually grew sore and weak. The small pool of bl00d near Yan Shuangfei’s feet reminded Luo Qinghan to stop before going too far.

She sighed, said nothing, and sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at Yan Shuangfei. Her gaze grew unfocused as her lashes trembled and slowly closed. She lay down and fell into a deep sleep.

Yan Shuangfei realized there was no more movement behind her and slowly turned around. Of course she knew why Luo Qinghan was angry. The fall of the Chang family had disrupted the balance among the four major families, intensifying the conflict between the Luo and Han families. It also signaled that the Yan family had officially declared war on the rest.

With all these tensions, it was impossible for outsiders to know that she and Luo Qinghan were still living under the same roof. Being on opposing sides meant inevitable separation—maybe even enmity.

But Yan Shuangfei didn’t regret it. Rather than continuing in this unclear, tangled relationship with Luo Qinghan, it was better to cut things clean. Chang Zheyun’s secret wouldn’t have stayed hidden forever.

If you don’t cut the knot, it will only tangle worse.

Yan Shuangfei had gambled her heart on this. She believed Luo Qinghan wouldn’t be so ruthless.

But now, it was probably too late to get the Luo family out of the conflict.

She didn’t rush to treat her wounds. The bleeding had already slowed. Carefully, she helped Luo Qinghan out of her jacket and pants, calmly and without any stray thoughts. She tucked her in under the blanket. Luo Qinghan’s soft body still carried the familiar feminine scent. Holding her was warm and comforting.

Luo Qinghan let out a soft hum and hugged the blanket. Yan Shuangfei smiled, turned away, and went to get medicine. Her wounds were hard to treat on her own, but she didn’t want to trouble anyone else. She could only manage it as best as she could.

These scars—she had left them on herself. And she accepted them without complaint.

By the time Luo Qinghan woke, it was already midnight. As soon as she opened her eyes, she instinctively sat up and looked for Yan Shuangfei.

She was never disappointed. Yan Shuangfei was sitting quietly in the corner of the room at a small table, seemingly working on her computer.

“Shuang’er, I’m thirsty…” Luo Qinghan’s throat felt dry and sore. She was still groggy from sleep.

Yan Shuangfei stood up, poured a glass of warm water, and handed it to her. After drinking, Luo Qinghan looked up and noticed how pale Yan Shuangfei’s lips were—nearly devoid of any color, even paler than her already fair skin. She had changed into a shirt with only a few buttons fastened, revealing glimpses of skin.

“I’ll go tell the staff to prepare dinner,” Yan Shuangfei said softly. She didn’t notice Luo Qinghan’s hand twitching, itching to sneak into the opening of her shirt.

“Go ahead,” Luo Qinghan replied, snapping out of her thoughts. She got out of bed, got dressed, and curiously glanced at Yan Shuangfei’s computer screen. It wasn’t a power map or a financial report. It was a game—Mole Manor.

Luo Qinghan bent over, laughing so hard her eyes watered.

So all that coldness and cruelty, that emotionless mask—it was fake? Who said Shuang’er didn’t have feelings? Her inner world was clearly that of a pure, innocent girl!

“Shuang’er, Shen Jiayan is coming over for dinner tonight. Tell the staff to make extra,” Luo Qinghan said while walking down the stairs.

“I already saw that guy.” Yan Shuangfei followed her up the stairs, grabbed her hand, and pouted—clearly a little annoyed about Shen Jiayan’s visit.

As soon as Shen Jiayan arrived, she first hugged Luo Qinghan, then grabbed Yan Shuangfei’s hand, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I heard you’re amazing with a sword! Can you teach me after dinner?”

“You sure you’re not worried about bursting your appendix?” Yan Shuangfei pulled her hand away and reached for Luo Qinghan’s instead. Her hand was soft and warm—very comforting.

“Qinghan…” Shen Jiayan was persistent. She turned to Luo Qinghan with hopeful eyes. Yan Shuangfei realized then that this woman was truly cunning—always targeting the weak spot. Before Luo Qinghan could answer, she quickly responded first.

“Shuang’er, Jiayan already asked. Just say yes,” Luo Qinghan said. Her mind had been elsewhere, and by the time she registered Shen Jiayan’s words, processed them, and tried to respond, it was already too late.

“I already agreed!” Yan Shuangfei grinned at Luo Qinghan, like a kid who wanted praise for doing something right.

Luo Qinghan looked at her with amusement, but just then, she noticed the pale color under the shadow on Yan Shuangfei’s face. Others might not have noticed her weakness, but Luo Qinghan knew too well—she remembered the wounds on her back.

“Shuang’er…” Luo Qinghan called gently.

“I’m fine,” Yan Shuangfei replied, holding onto her arm with a soft voice laced with watery tenderness.

You’re always like this—constantly accepting everything from me, whether it’s hurt or pain, bearing it all alone.

“Do you like me?” someone from a distant memory asked with a gentle smile.

“Mm.” A child’s soft voice replied, face blushing red as she buried it in the other’s embrace. “I like you. I really, really like you.”
The voice was barely a whisper, like a dream.