The Cold Queen is My Exclusive Little Snack - Chapter 22

Chu Shiyin drove away just before the parking space’s owner arrived.

Zuo Xingning was strapped into the passenger seat, fast asleep.

The moment Chu Shiyin realized she was sleeping, she nearly laughed in exasperation. Helpless, she suppressed her pent-up desire, helped Zuo Xingning get dressed, and drove away.

After parking, Chu Shiyin retrieved a windbreaker from the trunk, zipped it up to her chin, and pulled up the hood. Opening the passenger door, she reached in to lift Zuo Xingning into her arms.

The rain had just stopped, and the neighborhood was eerily quiet, devoid of children and dogs.

After a few steps, Chu Shiyin paused and shifted the weight of the person in her arms.

She felt weightless, like holding a cluster of champagne-colored osmanthus blossoms.

A petal of osmanthus landed on the tip of her nose. Her thick lashes trembled briefly before settling into stillness.

The walk home was short. After exiting the elevator, Chu Shiyin adjusted Zuo Xingning’s position, cradling her like a child against her shoulder, and opened the door with one hand.

Forgetting to take off her shoes, she padded barefoot across the floor to carry Zuo Xingning to her room.

Despite all the commotion, Zuo Xingning remained asleep.

Chu Shiyin sat by the bed, listening to her breathing, a chill seeping from the floor into her heart.

She sighed.

“Why are you pretending to be asleep?”

After showering, Zuo Xingning sat cross-legged on the bed.

She never answered Chu Shiyin’s question.

It wasn’t that she was deliberately pretending to be asleep; she had genuinely fallen asleep and woken up in Chu Shiyin’s arms.

Sober now, she didn’t dare open her eyes.

Unfortunately, she was the type who didn’t black out when drunk. Though her memories were hazy, she knew exactly what she had done to Chu Shiyin.

Shamelessly stripping off her clothes and forcing a kiss on Chu Shiyin.

There could be nothing more mortifying.

She could only feign sleep, hoping to buy herself another night.

She hadn’t expected Chu Shiyin to see through her act. Then again, her performance had been so transparent, how could she not have been discovered?

Though Chu Shiyin didn’t press the matter, she was clearly angry. That icy expression when she left proved it.

Zuo Xingning slumped, hugging her knees, feeling utterly helpless.

She hadn’t realized her alcohol tolerance was so abysmal. She’d gotten so drunk she’d lost all reason, leaving only alcohol-amplified desires to drive her actions.

She had no idea how to face Chu Shiyin tomorrow.

I guess I should apologize after all.

After much internal debate, Zuo Xingning finally rolled out of bed.

She needed to apologize, but she also wanted to confirm something else.

Like, why hadn’t Chu Shiyin pushed her away in the car? Could that mean she felt even the slightest bit of affection for her…?

“Jie, Jiejie?!”

Zuo Xingning jumped in surprise when she opened the door. She hadn’t expected Chu Shiyin to be standing right outside.

All the carefully rehearsed lines vanished from her mind. In a moment of panic, Zuo Xingning blurted out, “Want to… come in for a bit?”

“No thanks,” Chu Shiyin replied predictably, handing her a cup. “Honey water. For the hangover.”

“Thank you,” Zuo Xingning said, taking the cup and cautiously sipping. The cup was still warm, but the water had cooled.

This cup had been poured a while ago, which meant Chu Shiyin had likely been standing outside her door for quite some time.

What did she want to say?

Zuo Xingning gazed at her expectantly, a longing in her eyes that she herself didn’t realize was there.

“Get some rest,” Chu Shiyin finally said, her words carefully chosen. “Don’t drink so much next time.”

With that, she turned to leave, but her wrist was caught in a firm grip—one she couldn’t shake off.

Forced to turn back, Chu Shiyin watched as Zuo Xingning lowered her gaze and apologized.

“About earlier… I’m sorry.”

Her timid demeanor made it seem as if she weren’t the same person who had acted so boldly under the influence of alcohol just moments ago.

For adults, apologies often carry a single, unspoken meaning:

Let’s pretend this never happened.

“It’s okay,” Chu Shiyin replied, her smile flawless and unyielding. “Can you let go of my hand now?”

“I… I’m not finished yet.”

Zuo Xingning’s reaction wasn’t what Chu Shiyin had expected. She seemed unwilling to brush the incident aside so easily, yet the question she asked was completely unrelated.

“Why are you so kind to me?”

Why?

Chu Shiyin had always had only one answer, and now, she could only give that answer.

“You might not remember, but we met when we were children…”

“Is that all?” Zuo Xingning interrupted.

This was the worst possible outcome she had imagined.

Bound by the contract, Familiars were overwhelmingly obedient to their vampires. If, if Chu Shiyin was only being so accommodating to her because of this…

Then she was simply, simply a bastard.

“Is that all?”

She didn’t know where she found the courage, but she gripped the glass of honey water tightly, stubbornly determined to get an answer.

Too much time had passed. The warmth from the glass had faded irrevocably, and gradually, that lingering warmth began to feel like an illusion.

The idea that this honey water represented Chu Shiyin’s affection for her also started to feel like an illusion.

Zuo Xingning felt an inexplicable urge to cry. She sniffled, forcing back tears as she waited for Chu Shiyin’s answer.

Chu Shiyin wanted to sigh. Ever since reuniting with Zuo Xingning, she found herself sighing constantly.

In her memories, she had been the same as a child, sighing as she trailed behind the city girl who had come from so far away.

Zuo Xingning had always been Zuo Xingning, but Chu Shiyin hadn’t always been the refined, perfect version of herself.

During that late summer when they first met, she didn’t even have the name Chu Shiyin yet. Her fellow villagers called her Ya’er—a scrawny, unremarkable, and commonplace little sprout.

At the time, she was going through the only rebellious phase of her life. She had hacked off her hair with crude scissors, leaving it a messy, dog-chewed mess that exposed a cut on her forehead, covered by an ugly bandage.

The day after cutting her hair, she got into a fight—a reckless, life-threatening brawl that nearly cost her everything.

She was rescued by strangers and rushed to the hospital. The little girl who had come with them stayed by her bedside, dressed in a pink dress, crying hysterically.

The noise was unbearable, making it impossible for her to close her eyes.

Yet the more she tried to stop it, the louder the girl wailed, sobbing as if she were about to suffocate.

Her ears rang for three days. The doctors diagnosed a concussion, but she was convinced it was the incessant crying.

Once the dizziness subsided, Ya’er began plotting her escape.

From the very first day in the hospital, she had wanted to flee—

She couldn’t afford the medical bills; her life wasn’t worth that much.

But she couldn’t escape. While the adults were busy with errands, the children were left to stay together.

The little girl changed her clothes every day, her hair neatly braided. She stood guard at the hospital room door like a guardian deity.

Ya’er couldn’t understand why she wasn’t at school.

The little girl said she was on leave and dutifully did her homework in the room each day. When she struggled, she’d call out “Jiejie” repeatedly, trying to bribe Ya’er with candy.

During her hospital stay, Ya’er ate a lot of the girl’s candy—sweet and cloying, a taste she knew she’d never forget.

By the time she was discharged, Ya’er hadn’t managed to escape.

In truth, the “guardian deity” couldn’t have stopped her. With a six-year age difference, Ya’er could have picked her up as easily as a chick. But chicks don’t cry.

Ya’er was terrified of her tears.

Even after her rebirth as Chu Shiyin, she remained afraid of Zuo Xingning’s tears.

Her pouting lips, whether from fear or sadness, filled Ya’er with dread.

The thought had crossed her mind in an instant. Zuo Xingning was still waiting for her answer.

Chu Shiyin couldn’t give her the answer she wanted.

Zuo Xingning was young, with a long life ahead of her. She would meet many people and shouldn’t be tied down by Ya’er. What had happened earlier was just an accident.

Chu Shiyin desperately wanted to give her that answer, turn, and walk away, ending this mistake tonight.

But her feet wouldn’t move, and she couldn’t shake off the weak hand gripping her arm.

“What answer do you want from me?”

Chu Shiyin had always been helpless against her, and now it was even worse.

“I don’t know.”

Answering a question with another question was truly a shameless tactic.

Zuo Xingning lowered her head even further. “I’m greedy. I’m afraid that if you give me the answer I want, I’ll become even greedier.”

In her half-drunk state, it only took a gentle nudge to spill her true feelings.

“Sister Siya told me I was too young and naive, and warned me not to provoke you. I was a little defiant at the time, but now I think she was right.”

“If I were more mature, I would never have let things escalate like this today. But what can I do? Maturity doesn’t come just because you want it. I can only try again in my childish way, or I’ll never be satisfied.”

“Actually, at first, I wasn’t this greedy. I didn’t even realize my feelings for you were this kind of love. I just thought it was amazing to be so close to my idol. But now… I want more.”

“Never having known longing, I only began to long when I knew what it was, and then longing harmed me.” I finally understand why that poem we learned in elementary school uses the word “harm.” Longing truly feels like an illness.

“Longing is far from beautiful. Every day you’re gone, I feel miserable because I don’t even have the right to miss you. Sometimes I envy Tuantuan. Though she can’t speak, she’s always the first to rush to greet you when you return. I can’t do that—I don’t deserve to.”

“What right do I have?”

Zuo Xingning smiled bitterly, finally releasing Chu Shiyin’s tightly held hand. “You’ve been too good to me, nurturing my greed. Now I want the right to miss you.”

“My mother always said I was greedy and presumptuous. I never believed her when I was younger, but it turns out she was right.”

She lifted her head, her voice breaking, no longer avoiding Chu Shiyin’s gaze. “Jiejie, am I really that detestable?”

Chu Shiyin couldn’t find the words to reply.

Her mind drifted inexplicably, drawn to the thought that Zuo Xingning had been crying so much lately.

Her eyes were red and stubbornly wide open, refusing to let her lashes blink away the tears. But the rims of her eyes could only hold so much, and the tears spilled over—large, pearl-like drops falling like a broken string.

The kind of tears Chu Shiyin hated to see.

“Why have you been crying so much lately?” she sighed.

“It’s my period,” Zuo Xingning said, wiping her face with her free hand, her eyes reddening further. “It’s almost time, so my emotions are all over the place. But what does that matter? Answer my question!”

Her voice rose, her eyebrows furrowed, and she tried to sound fierce, but her tear-soaked eyes held no real threat, making her look more like a snarling puppy.

“Do you hate me or not?!”

The puppy stood in the light, her eyes bright, the light too bright, making it nearly impossible for Chu Shiyin to hide her true feelings.

Once again, Chu Shiyin was defeated by her tears.

She pressed the wall switch, and as the light dimmed, she lowered her head and kissed away the tears at the corner of Zuo Xingning’s mouth.

Just as she had expected, they tasted bitter.

“I don’t hate you,” she replied.

This was a kiss devoid of any ulterior motives.

At least, that’s what Chu Shiyin thought until the moment her lips met Zuo Xingning’s.

The tears tasted sour as they entered her mouth. Zuo Xingning seemed startled by the sudden movement, turning her head slightly, allowing Chu Shiyin to capture both her lips.

Soft and faintly sweet from the honey water she had just drunk—a delicate sweetness that carried the essence of Chu Shiyin’s own brewing.

As the lights dimmed, sight faded, sharpening the senses of hearing and touch.

Zuo Xingning sobbed softly, and Chu Shiyin swallowed the sound whole.

A person who has just cried hasn’t yet regained their composure. The slightest stimulation could send their breathing spiraling into frantic gasps.

Thin and rapid, Chu Shiyin found herself becoming almost addicted to the sound.

She loved this—hearing Zuo Xingning’s sobs, her ragged breaths, her pleas for mercy, her tender whimpers in her arms.

The honey water spilled across the floor, the cup rolling away unnoticed. Neither of them cared.

The veneer of propriety shattered completely as Chu Shiyin’s hand slid down to Zuo Xingning’s waist, forcing her backward step by step until they reached the edge of the bed and tumbled onto it.

Clad only in thin layers of fabric, their skirts brushed against each other, inching upward without needing to be touched, until they gathered at their waists.

Their bare skin pressed tightly together, their body temperatures rising as tangled strands of dark hair intertwined and fused.

Zuo Xingning was the first to regain her senses from the sudden kiss. True to her self-proclaimed nature as a “greedy ghost,” she saw Chu Shiyin’s signal for further intimacy and seized the opportunity.

Protecting the back of Chu Shiyin’s head, she twisted her waist with a forceful movement, instantly reversing their positions.

Though she rarely exercised, her vampire instincts granted her an innate understanding of leverage and power. Even her night vision far surpassed that of ordinary humans.

With the curtains drawn tight, the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the gaps allowed her to clearly see Chu Shiyin’s thin lips, now swollen and parted slightly.

Chu Shiyin seemed unaware that Zuo Xingning had already pulled away. Her tongue, still extended, peeked out between her teeth, its rounded tip visible.

Lowering her gaze, Zuo Xingning noticed a scattering of red marks across Chu Shiyin’s snow-white shoulders and neck, resembling a layer of fallen petals.

Mountain snow, lotus at the heart of the river—the purest, most pristine things in the world—were now within her grasp.

The mere thought made Zuo Xingning feel like she was going mad.

Perhaps she already had.

The moment Chu Shiyin returned her kiss, she had already lost her mind.

Greed swelled within her, insatiable and unquenchable.

Zuo Xingning pressed another kiss, a flurry of urgent, rapid pecks that traced Chu Shiyin’s lips and jawline, each touch delicate and fleeting.

While Chu Shiyin’s attention was consumed by the kisses, Zuo Xingning’s hand stealthily slipped down her jawline, gliding across her skin, sliding lower and lower.

“Stop… stop it…” Chu Shiyin finally reacted, but it was too late. Her most vulnerable place had already slipped beyond her control, leaving her utterly defenseless.

“Do you want me to stop?”

In the dimly lit room, Zuo Xingning’s smile bordered on malicious as she slowly withdrew her hand.

“But I think you’re lying, Jiejie, aren’t you?”

Zuo Xingning seized Chu Shiyin’s hand, forcing her to wrap her fingers around Zuo Xingning’s own.

Sweat slicked their palms, creating a moist, intimate connection.

“Shut up. Your audacity lately is truly…”

Chu Shiyin couldn’t finish the sentence. The weak, strained whisper she managed to squeeze out between her lips held no trace of fear for the other woman.

Half-annoyed, half-mortified, she yanked her hand away, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter to avoid looking at Zuo Xingning. Her mouth clamped shut, refusing to let out even a sound.

But Zuo Xingning wasn’t satisfied with this.

Merely looking at Chu Shiyin’s face wasn’t enough. She wanted to shatter the silence.

But she didn’t plead again. Instead, she retreated on her own, her calves sliding between her knees as she parted them, then knelt down.

Chu Shiyin had only one leg she could move freely. The chance to resist had slipped away, leaving her powerless to feel the trail of fingers that didn’t belong to her.

With a gentle hook and pull of those slender fingers, Chu Shiyin’s secrets lay completely exposed before her, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Due to the angle and the dim lighting, Zuo Xingning couldn’t see much. But that single, fragile thread of connection was enough to drive her to madness.

Her breath quickened.

The scent grew stronger, heavier, drawing her in with a primal hunger. Her pupils burned crimson.

The scent was honest, betraying its Master’s true intentions—a clear, unmistakable invitation to a vampire.

Zuo Xingning eagerly accepted the invitation.

Yet a sliver of rationality remained. She remembered she couldn’t harm Chu Shiyin. Fortunately, having reached this point, her genetic instincts would guide her.

She leaned in to kiss her.

Her soft tongue severed the silver thread, coiling around it, sucking it in, and swallowing it whole.

A tremor began at Chu Shiyin’s toes, spreading through her body. She couldn’t help but tremble, and Zuo Xingning began to shake with her.

She pressed down on Chu Shiyin’s shin.

Her fingers lightly threaded through Chu Shiyin’s hair as Chu Shiyin cradled her head.

Zuo Xingning couldn’t tell if Chu Shiyin wanted to push her away or press her closer. Perhaps even Chu Shiyin herself didn’t know, for her hand merely hovered, wanting to exert force but afraid to.

Undeterred, Zuo Xingning continued her ministrations.

The kiss deepened, her tongue deftly parting Chu Shiyin’s lips for a deeper embrace.

It wasn’t until the hand cradling her head began to tighten its grip that everything changed.

It was like a signal. Fireworks erupted in the pitch-black night, followed by waves of tingling numbness that intensified with each passing moment, spreading like electric currents through her limbs and bones.

Chu Shiyin felt it most intensely.

Sweat beaded on her overheated skin, her toes curled, and she bit down hard on her lower lip until it bled crimson.

Her moans died in her throat. Chu Shiyin refused to let Zuo Xingning see her like this.

In her fantasies, Zuo Xingning was supposed to be the one being dominated.

But from the very beginning, events had spiraled beyond her control, and now, it was no different.

The silent night was easily shattered by fireworks, just as her fragile defenses had crumbled.

Amidst the booming fireworks, Chu Shiyin trembled like a startled butterfly, beyond recovery.

Amidst sobs, the ravenous vampire, starved for far too long, finally received her feast, albeit in an unexpected form.

At least Zuo Xingning was utterly satisfied.

 

A blankness filled her vision, her mind equally empty. Whether it was five seconds or five minutes, Chu Shiyin finally snapped back to reality.

Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She saw Zuo Xingning still kneeling, a fawning smile on her face.

“Jiejie~”

“Speak,” Chu Shiyin snapped, her mind still reeling from being caught off guard. She was too preoccupied with her own frustration to notice the awkward, ingratiating tone in Zuo Xingning’s voice.

“Well, you see…”

Zuo Xingning scrambled off Chu Shiyin’s lap, pressed her legs together, and groped in the dark for tissues. “I think… I might have had a little accident.”

Chu Shiyin paused, a sudden premonition of disaster washing over her.

The window was open, letting in a draft that chilled her bare calves and carried the faint, metallic scent of bl00d into her nostrils.

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Zuo Xingning stammered. “It’s just… my period seems to have started early.”

“Zuo… Xing… Ning.”

Chu Shiyin closed her eyes, for the first time feeling an overwhelming urge to beat her senseless.

The intimate atmosphere was completely shattered by this interruption. Chu Shiyin, her face icy, retreated to her room and didn’t emerge again.

Her room had its own private bathroom, unlike Zuo Xingning, who had to use the guest bathroom. When Chu Shiyin said she wouldn’t come out, she meant it.

By the time Zuo Xingning finished cleaning up and emerged from the bathroom, Chu Shiyin’s room was already dark.

Even the door was closed. Tuantuan, the cat, was crouched outside, staring at her.

Zuo Xingning squeezed past and stood beside the cat.

“Jiejie?” she called out twice, but there was no response.

Zuo Xingning couldn’t tell if Chu Shiyin was asleep or simply didn’t want to see her. Either way, she knew she shouldn’t disturb her further.

Bending down, she stroked Tuantuan’s head a few times before turning to return to her own room, where she continued apologizing to Chu Shiyin via WeChat.

All night, she clutched her phone, waiting for a reply, until she was jolted awake by a series of vibrations.

Her eyes barely open, Zuo Xingning unlocked her phone and tapped on the message.

Hey, you didn’t end up in the hospital, did you?

Nothing else to say.

Just wanted to apologize.

It really wasn’t intentional.

? What’s this?

Zuo Xingning blinked in confusion. Upon closer inspection, she realized the message hadn’t come from Chu Shiyin at all. It was a completely unfamiliar profile picture with no name or group affiliation.

This kind of “add and forget” confidence—believing she could remember everyone without notes—was something she’d only possessed when she first entered university.

Who is this person? Did they send the message to the wrong number?

Zuo Xingning cautiously replied with four words:

Who are you?

?

You didn’t add a note for me??

No wonder I haven’t seen your posts! Did you put me in a restricted group?!

Ah, she hadn’t done that. She just hadn’t posted anything lately.

But based on the tone, she had a pretty good guess who it was.

Jiang Shuqing?

A moment of silence.

Yeah, it’s me. What’s up?

Don’t think I’m worried about you. I’m just asking casually. Don’t get any ideas.

Not that she’d have the chance to get any ideas.

Zuo Xingning first added a note for Jiang Shuqing, then selected her first message and replied:

We don’t usually call asking if someone’s been hospitalized “just asking casually.”

So, what do you really want? Why are you messaging me out of the blue?

I didn’t do anything special. Zhongli Yanfei just insisted I apologize to you.

I added something to the sweet fermented rice balls I gave you yesterday.

“……” No wonder she got so drunk last night.

What did you add?

I don’t quite remember… maybe vodka?

Sliding to my knees in apology.gif

.

Jiang Shuqing, should we just block each other?

Zuo Xingning suggested earnestly.

Of course, blocking each other was just a joke.

Without Jiang Shuqing’s vodka-laced rice balls, her relationship with Chu Shiyin wouldn’t have progressed so dramatically.

Zuo Xingning glanced at the time: 8:15 AM. Chu Shiyin should already be up and exercising.

She hastily threw on a jacket to cover her neck and opened the door. Before she could call out “Jiejie,” she saw a figure sitting on the living room sofa.

Yu Siya.

What was she doing here? Did she know about last night and come to warn her to stay away from Chu Shiyin?

Zuo Xingning wanted to run, or at least ask Chu Shiyin what to do first, but Yu Siya had already heard her and turned to wave.

“Sister Siya,” Zuo Xingning approached nervously. “Where’s Jiejie?”

“Shiyin left an hour ago to see Lin Fei,” Yu Siya said, handing over the tablet. “Forget about her for now. You were trending at number one this morning.”

“!”

“A negative trend.”

“??!”