The Cold Queen is My Exclusive Little Snack - Chapter 24

Isn’t this too cruel for her?

Lin Fei truly… knew exactly how to exploit others’ vulnerabilities.

…No, Chu Shiyin had realized this long ago. What she hadn’t anticipated was that it took Lin Fei pointing it out for her to realize Zuo Xingning had become her own vulnerability.

The elevator doors opened, and the motion sensor light in the entryway instantly illuminated. Standing before her apartment door, Chu Shiyin felt a sudden pang of homesickness.

She bent down to change her shoes, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Only a small lamp near the entrance was lit in the living room. Tuantuan, the cat, was crouched behind the door. Seeing her enter, it let out a sweet “meow” and began circling her legs, rubbing against her pants.

Chu Shiyin crouched down and scratched the kitten’s chin right there in the doorway.

Outside the window, the moon and sun had already completed their cycle, painting a night sky similar yet subtly different from the previous evening.

The impulsive feelings had receded with time. When Chu Shiyin woke up that morning, only three words filled her mind: What do I do?

Breaking it down, there were actually three distinct questions: What was the nature of her relationship with Zuo Xingning? How should they communicate going forward? What kind of dynamic should they establish in their future interactions?

Every question felt like an unsolvable riddle to Chu Shiyin, causing her ten thousand times more anguish than she had felt during her college entrance exams.

Finally, Chu Shiyin resorted to “cheating.”

She sought out Lin Fei, who wrote “Solution” on the exam paper and returned it to her.

Clutching the blank paper, Chu Shiyin spent the entire day in her studio, only returning home when she had no choice.

Distracted by other matters, Chu Shiyin’s hand unconsciously slowed as she petted Tuantuan. Dissatisfied, the cat nudged her palm with its forehead until it had absorbed enough human attention. Then, with its fluffy tail held high, it padded off to its exclusive spot on the sofa and settled down.

Chu Shiyin rose and followed it deeper into the room.

The light grew dimmer as she moved further in. On the L-shaped fabric sofa, a white form lay curled up—Tuantuan—while a pale blue blanket, left behind by someone, lay nearby.

Her gaze swept across the scene. Just as Chu Shiyin was about to retreat to her bedroom, she froze, her eyes snapping back to the sofa.

Beneath the pale blue blanket, a person was curled up, their raven hair spilling out. A palm-sized face was buried in the fabric, as if they had just bathed; a faint scent of green apples wafted from the blanket.

The sofa wasn’t narrow, but for someone who tossed and turned in their sleep, it was torture. Afraid of falling off, she had curled herself into a tight ball, pulling the blanket around her. Her ankles peeked out, the pale skin mottled with patches of bluish-purple bruises.

The bruises on Zuo Xingning’s instep looked exactly the same as the day she’d returned. It was obvious she’d been lazy and hadn’t followed the doctor’s instructions.

Chu Shiyin retrieved some safflower oil and sat at the foot of the sofa, resting Zuo Xingning’s sprained foot on her lap.

It was icy cold, the chill seeping through the fabric. If she was already this cold in early autumn, how would she fare in winter?

Unaware of the vampire’s unique physiology, Chu Shiyin massaged the safflower oil into her foot while mentally planning to buy some heating appliances for the house.

The blanket needed replacing too. This one was only suitable for early autumn; it would be too thin for winter… Never mind, I’ll ask Aunt Chen tomorrow. She has much more experience with these things than I do.

Estimating she’d massaged enough, Chu Shiyin wiped her hands with a wet wipe, then bent down and carefully lifted Zuo Xingning into her arms.

Zuo Xingning was remarkably alert. The moment her body left the ground, her arms instinctively wrapped around Chu Shiyin’s neck, her movements so nimble it was hard to believe she had just woken up.

Chu Shiyin didn’t break stride, tilting her head to ask, “When did you wake up?”

Zuo Xingning didn’t answer, only giggling softly before burying her face in the crook of Chu Shiyin’s shoulder. “Thank you, Jiejie~”

She dodged the question with a touch of coquettishness—a cunning habit that both Zuo Minglan and Chu Shiyin were equally susceptible to.

Chu Shiyin said nothing, nor did she put Zuo Xingning down.

The bedroom door remained open as she turned toward the light switch, still holding Zuo Xingning. “Turn on the light…”

“Never mind.” Before she could finish, Chu Shiyin suddenly remembered something, quickly changing her words and reversing direction.

Zuo Xingning remained silent, her hands tightening around her neck.

They both remembered the same thing: everything that had happened in this room last night.

The sheets and duvet cover had been changed, and any suspicious stains had vanished after a cycle in the washing machine. Only the floor, where honey water had been spilled, retained a faint sweetness—no, even that was probably gone by now.

The sweetness was just an illusion. After all, if the scent still lingered, it would have been completely overwhelmed by the pungent odor of the safflower oil.

Only they remembered everything.

Chu Shiyin’s heart began to race.

She recalled yesterday, when she had gently placed the feigning-sleep Zuo Xingning on the bed, and then… then that girl had claimed her period had come early.

The bloodstained underwear had been tossed into the trash, and she had taken out the garbage bag herself that morning.

The memory shattered any lingering romantic thoughts.

With the curtains undrawn, Chu Shiyin easily laid Zuo Xingning on the bed by moonlight. She didn’t leave, because Zuo Xingning was still holding onto her.

Just a tiny tug on the corner of her sleeve, but a death grip nonetheless.

Chu Shiyin sat down, pulling the blanket over Zuo Xingning, who promptly shifted her focus and grasped Chu Shiyin’s hand beneath the covers.

“If you were sleepy, why didn’t you go back to your room?” Chu Shiyin asked, gently shaking their clasped hands.

“Because you said you’d come back after work, and I wanted to wait for you,” Zuo Xingning replied honestly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I got drowsy lying down.”

“Jiejie,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep, making Chu Shiyin’s heart soften. “I’m joining the film crew in a few days.”

The Fuyi production team had already been working for over a month. To maintain the schedule, the actress cast as the third female lead needed to join the set immediately. In fact, if not for the need to give her time to familiarize herself with the script, the Director would have had Zuo Xingning fly over and start filming today.

“Siya told me about it,” Chu Shiyin said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Zuo Xingning’s ear with her free hand. “The Fuyi team is top-notch. Landing this role is amazing.”

Zuo Xingning smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

She hadn’t expected things to progress so smoothly either.

After her audition, the Casting Director was impressed but still hesitant, unsure if she could handle the role. It wasn’t until Yu Siya stepped in and showed him a video that he was convinced.

The video was a rough compilation of Zuo Xingning’s fight scenes as Jiang Nian.

It was crudely edited, lacking dramatic music or precise timing. The clips were simply piled together, even including blurry behind-the-scenes footage.

Devoid of any aesthetic appeal, it looked hastily thrown together—which it was. Yet this very video reassured the Casting Director, giving him the confidence to cast her.

After consulting with the director, they immediately decided to cast Zuo Xingning as Gu Rong, the third female lead in Fuyi.

This was a sudden opportunity, and even Chu Shiyin only received the news after the decision had been finalized.

She was more concerned about other matters. “Siya mentioned you’ll have a lot of scenes involving physical combat and intense emotional displays. Will your leg injury be a problem?”

“It won’t affect anything. I asked the doctor, and they said as long as I avoid putting too much weight on the injured leg, I’ll be fine. Besides, when I join the production, we’ll start with close-up shots first. By the time I catch up with the main unit, there won’t be any issues at all.”

“Exactly! I might be gone for quite a while this time.”

As she spoke, Zuo Xingning rolled over, pressed her cheek against the back of Chu Shiyin’s hand, and secretly slipped something into her palm.

Chu Shiyin’s fingers first brushed against sharp, angular edges, then felt raised, intricate patterns. “What’s this?” she asked.

“Just open it and see,” Zuo Xingning replied, withdrawing her face and releasing Chu Shiyin’s hand.

Meeting her expectant gaze, Chu Shiyin chuckled and pulled her hand away.

Lying in her palm was a sapphire-blue gift box, its origins a mystery.

The box opened to reveal a butterfly resting on a bed of pristine white velvet. Its wings were intricately hollowed-out, shimmering with metallic silver, while its abdomen was formed by an oval-shaped sapphire.

It was an exquisitely crafted brooch. A glance at the logo on the box confirmed it came from a renowned luxury brand.

“This must have cost a fortune,” Chu Shiyin remarked, wondering how Zuo Xingning had afforded it. Had she spent her entire variety show appearance fee?

“It doesn’t matter,” Zuo Xingning replied dismissively. “Money can always be earned back. Jiejie, do you like it?”

“I do,” Chu Shiyin answered, feigning ignorance. “Is it for me?”

Zuo Xingning nodded. “It’s a birthday gift!”

Chu Shiyin calculated the date and chuckled. “My birthday is still a long way off. Aren’t you giving it to me a bit early?”

“I know, but I’m starting filming soon,” Zuo Xingning sighed dramatically. “Even the shortest shoot will take over a month, so I won’t be back in time for your birthday. I had to prepare in advance.”

In truth, there were far more beautiful accessories, but this was all she could afford, nearly emptying her savings.

“Jiejie, you really like it, right?” Zuo Xingning asked again, seeking reassurance.

“Mm, I really do like it,” Chu Shiyin said, reaching out to stroke Zuo Xingning’s hair with the same gentle touch she used on cats. “But next time, don’t give me something so expensive.”

“It’s not expensive at all! I saw plenty of things in the display case that cost way more,” Zuo Xingning protested, though she lacked the means to buy them.

After mentioning this casually, Zuo Xingning began rambling about other things. “Actually, I’d rather make something myself, like a scarf or something.”

“It’s almost winter, after all. But I’m terrible with my hands, so I guess I’ll pass. Besides, I’m starting a new project soon and won’t have time.”

“A scarf sounds nice too,” Chu Shiyin said, twirling a strand of Zuo Xingning’s hair around her finger as they chatted idly. It wasn’t as… terrifying as she’d imagined. Instead, it felt strangely comforting, a sense of peace she rarely experienced.

There had never been any real obstacles in her way; she had simply been afraid to take the first step.

Chu Shiyin smiled. “Winter is perfect for wearing scarves.”

“Right?” Zuo Xingning’s eyes lit up. “Then for your birthday next year, I’ll make you one! A whole year should be enough time to learn how to knit a scarf, no matter how clumsy I am!”

Chu Shiyin nodded, listening as Zuo Xingning muttered about scarf patterns. After a moment, Zuo Xingning suddenly blurted out, “Choosing butterflies was definitely the right choice!”

Chu Shiyin froze, startled. “Why?”

“Hmm?” Zuo Xingning looked even more puzzled than she did. “Didn’t you say in an interview that butterflies were your favorite? Do you not like them anymore?”

Chu Shiyin panicked, her eyes darting repeatedly to the gift box temporarily placed on the bedside table.

“…Well, I did say that, and I still like them,” Chu Shiyin sighed. “But when I mentioned butterflies back then, there was another reason.”

“What reason?” Zuo Xingning’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Do you remember what happened when we were little?” Chu Shiyin asked, avoiding a direct answer.

“Not really?” A flicker of confusion crossed Zuo Xingning’s face, as if she didn’t understand. “I’ve only heard bits and pieces from my mom.”

Just as she’d suspected.

“What reason… you can figure it out yourself,” Chu Shiyin said, standing up. “I’ll accept the gift for now. Get some rest. Good night.”

“Wait a minute!”

Though she still hadn’t grasped the meaning behind their strange exchange, practice makes perfect. Zuo Xingning’s fingers had already developed the muscle memory to tug at Chu Shiyin’s sleeve.

Chu Shiyin was forced to stop and look. Zuo Xingning tapped her cheek with her fingertip, the implication unmistakable.

Chu Shiyin paused, then leaned in to kiss her, thinking:

I’ve really spoiled Zuo Xingning too much. She’s become far too bold.

And she genuinely doesn’t remember anything from her childhood.

This is absurd.

A sudden surge of annoyance made Chu Shiyin switch from a kiss to a playful bite, nipping Zuo Xingning’s cheek. It wasn’t hard, just a way to vent her frustration.

Straightening up, she said goodnight again.

“Goodnight,” Zuo Xingning replied, rubbing her cheek.

After Chu Shiyin left, Zuo Xingning pulled her phone from her pajama pocket and sent a message to her mother, Zuo Minglan:

Mom, did Jiejie and I really only meet at my full moon celebration?

If that was the only time they’d met, why did Chu Shiyin seem to think she would remember it?