Cocoon (Lily ABO) - Chapter 9

Every inch of her skin was filled with the joyous satisfaction of being answered. Under the wash of two consecutive, hearty climaxes, Han Jingman’s grip on Ling Yu’s arm gradually loosened. Her rapid breaths smoothed out, and her tense legs dropped back onto the mattress, no longer entwined.

As Ling Yu’s trembling cock pulsed one last time, fitfully expelling the remaining fluid, an exhausted Han Jingman—wearing an expression of lingering pleasure—had already fallen into a sweet, deep dream.

Ling Yu managed to roll off Han Jingman, feeling so weary she could barely lift an arm. Her mind was a chaotic yet brilliant blur, like the aftermath of a firework display. She tried to get out of bed to clean up the mess for both of them, but an overwhelming wave of drowsiness and the hollow weakness following a peak of passion swept over her. Ling Yu struggled to pull the crumpled silk duvet over them both, thinking she would just close her eyes for a brief nap before getting up. Then, as she inhaled the comforting scent of pheromones, her exhausted body sank into the soft mattress, and she fell into a heavy sleep.

By the time her consciousness returned, dawn was breaking outside the window.

Ling Yu frowned and struggled to open her sore eyes. She had slept so deeply that she didn’t immediately realize where she was. The sudden light made her dizzy, so she closed her eyes again to slowly wake her mind and body.

A rustling sound beside her startled her heart into a leap. She sat up quickly, and as she did, a soft, smooth body beneath the covers sat up with her. The duvet slid down to their waists, barely covering the parts of them that invited such vivid imagination.

Startled, Ling Yu opened her eyes only to meet Han Jingman’s—eyes that were filled with confusion, then shock, and finally, a simmering rage. Clearly, she had remembered everything from last night.

Time seemed to freeze. Han Jingman bit her lower lip so hard that the skin turned an unnatural, deathly white, a sight that made Ling Yu’s heart ache.

Ling Yu’s fingers instinctively gripped the sheets beneath her. Her lips moved with difficulty as she prepared to speak.

Smack—

A loud, sharp slap landed on her left cheek, sudden and heavy.

Stunned by the blow, Ling Yu didn’t react immediately. She stared in disbelief at Han Jingman, who was frantically pulling the duvet up to cover her chest. That beautiful face was filled with fury, and her body beneath the covers was trembling—whether from fear or peak indignation, Ling Yu couldn’t tell.

“We… last night—”

Ling Yu’s dry throat was still raspy. Before she could finish a sentence, another slap flew toward her.

Same spot, same hand, even more force. Ling Yu’s face was knocked to the side. Stray hairs stuck to the corner of her mouth; even a slight tug sent a burning sting through her.

Having been neighbors with Han Jingman since she was four, she never knew the woman was capable of physical violence—nor that it would hurt this much.

Ling Yu endured the tears and said nothing. She threw back the covers, got out of bed, and silently gathered her clothes scattered by the bedside. She dressed herself piece by piece, then went into the bathroom to retrieve the phone that had been soaking underwater all night.

As she walked out of the bathroom, she stole a glance at Han Jingman, who was curled into a ball on the bed. In the other woman’s eyes, there was no longer the tenderness and trust of the past; it had been replaced by wariness and resentment.

Ling Yu sniffled, eyes downcast. She turned the doorknob and whispered, “I’m sorry,” then closed the door and left without looking back.

Thud— From behind the closed door came the dull sound of an object being hurled against it.

Clutching her backpack, Ling Yu stepped out of Han Jingman’s home. At first, she gritted her teeth, refusing to let the tears fall. but her jaw felt sore and weak; as soon as she took a breath, her eyes could no longer hold them back. Tears spilled out, crashing onto her arms one by one. She sat on the stairs, hugging her knees, and began to sob.

Perhaps the slaps had hurt too much, or perhaps the burden on her shoulders lately had been too heavy. Ling Yu cried for her own grievances, and for the fruitlessness of her love. Thinking of the loathing in Han Jingman’s eyes felt like a large piece of her heart had been carved out, leaving her hissing in pain.

It wasn’t until Ling Yu closed the door and left that Han Jingman’s tense body suddenly went limp. She hugged her knees, trembling, and began to weep silently.

She remembered everything from last night. She clearly remembered that she was the one who had entangled Ling Yu. She was the one who threw the phone. And she was the one who initiated the kiss. It was her, shamelessly begging Ling Yu for pleasure. She had seduced her own student; she had taken her “sister” to bed.

And then she had slapped Ling Yu without distinguishing right from wrong.

Han Jingman clutched her hair in a breakdown, striking her head with her fists as if trying to erase the memories. However, the marks left by Ling Yu remained on her exposed skin, and the mess beneath her was a constant reminder of how wanton and pathetic she had been. Shame and regret broke through her final internal defenses. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry, her body curled up as she sobbed until she was gasping for air.

What was she supposed to do?

A physically and mentally exhausted Ling Yu opened the door to her apartment. To her surprise, she was met by a flamboyant, shirtless man whistling a cheerful tune while frying eggs in the open kitchen.

Lost in his own world, the man only noticed Ling Yu had returned when he heard the noise. He hurried toward her.

“Ling, where were you last night? I was so worried when I couldn’t find you!”

Ling Yu hadn’t come home last night. He had called her hundreds of times without luck. The person who promised to bring him tacos had simply vanished; if she hadn’t come home now, he was about to call the police.

Looking at the concerned man, Ling Yu awkwardly avoided his gaze. She made up an excuse about a small crisis at the lab and apologized for breaking her promise, adding that her phone was broken so she couldn’t contact him, hoping for his forgiveness.

But no matter how dense a person was, they couldn’t ignore the clear five-finger marks on Ling Yu’s face. Half her face was swollen. The man silently sucked in a breath of cold air; whoever hit her had been incredibly brutal.

Declining her landlord’s invitation for breakfast, Ling Yu finally shut the talkative man out. She needed to compose herself and organize her thoughts. There were still many unfinished tasks waiting for her; she couldn’t afford to collapse.

After her shower, Ling Yu stuffed the clothes she had worn home from Han Jingman’s house directly into a trash bag.

She dug out an old phone and swapped her SIM card into it. Sure enough, it erupted with dozens of missed calls from her landlord and Diana. Feeling guilty, Ling Yu sent Diana a text explaining that her phone had accidentally fallen into water, which cut off their call. She apologized and made up an excuse, saying she had originally intended to ask if they could swap shifts next week, but the issue was now resolved.

Only after finishing all this did Ling Yu sit down to treat the injuries on her face. Han Jingman’s slaps had come so fast; thinking back, Ling Yu felt that the force of the palms had even made the corners of her eyes sting. Looking closely in the mirror, there were indeed several fine cuts at the corners of her eyes. Han Jingman’s nails were always trimmed round and neat; God knows how much force it took to actually break the skin. Ling Yu pursed her lips, using a cotton swab to apply iodine and ointment, her brow furrowing from the sting as the medicine touched the wounds.