After Mistakenly Marking My Ex’s Older Sister, the Disabled Alpha Stood Up - Chapter 67

Shock. A pounding heartbeat. A torrent of tangled emotions nearly burst from her chest.

The photo frame spun in the bathwater, the inked words smudging into blurred traces. Jìn Yúnxī lowered her gaze to the woman’s tear-bright eyes, and in that moment she remembered last night—remembered how, in her fever, she had clung to the corner of her clothes, murmuring endlessly: “Āh Yún, don’t go…”

So pitiful. So heartbreakingly beautiful.

Yán Qīngruò had always been proud, especially in the early days of their contract marriage. She never even looked her in the eye; on the surface she wore Yán Qīngméi’s mask, but beneath it she was cold as ice, her aloofness carved into her very bones.

Yúnxī had once believed that whatever feelings Qīngruò showed her came only after memory loss.

She never expected… that from the very first meeting, Yán Qīngruò had already fallen for her.

What Yúnxī did not know was that even when Qīngruò treated her with cool indifference, her gaze lingered—her silhouette etched deep into her retina, and into her heart—for a long, long time.

Love knows no beginning, only that it grows ever deeper.

And hadn’t Yúnxī herself, at that first riverside encounter, already been moved by the woman who had warmed her during the darkest days of her life?

It had never been Yán Qīngméi she loved. The first one she saw had never been Yán Qīngméi.

It was—always—Yán Qīngruò.

Her throat tightened as she swallowed the sour ache. She pulled out a bath towel, wrapping it around Qīngruò’s trembling shoulders, while carefully fishing the photo frame from the water. With gentle fingers, she wiped away the droplets, leaving the blurred strokes just as they were. The words still remained—like their love: blurred, yet never erased.

The woman buried her face into Yúnxī’s neck, damp hair brushing against her sensitive ear.

“Āh Yún… please. Don’t push me away again…”

Outside, rain had begun to fall once more, the tapping on the window blending with the quick thud of their heartbeats.

Yúnxī looked down into those eyes brimming with expectation and fragility, wondering what kind of heart had guided the hand that wrote those words on the back of the frame.

This time—could she believe her?

Believe that she truly loved her, and not because of hidden motives again?

The towel barely covered Qīngruò’s trembling body when she suddenly caught Yúnxī’s hand and pressed it against her chest. “It’s beating so fast. Listen.” Her long lashes trembled, tears rolling down. “This time I’m not lying to you, Āh Yún. Every word is true…”

Thump, thump, thump.

Each beat cried out: Āh Yún, I like you. I really, really like you.

But as she looked into the Alpha’s silent, dark eyes, Qīngruò mistook the quiet for doubt and hesitation.

You still won’t forgive me, will you? Her head felt light, her heart unbearably heavy. Even skin pressed to skin, even as she humbled herself to dust—still not enough. Could nothing mend what was broken between them?

It hurt so much.

She lowered her lashes, biting her lip hard until it reddened, until it broke and bled.

“Don’t bite yourself.” Yúnxī’s thumb gently pried apart those tightly pressed lips, her fingertip brushing against clenched teeth—only to feel her jaw snap shut.

“Open your mouth.”

The Alpha’s low command reverberated through the steamy bathroom. Just as she began to pull her finger away, Qīngruò’s hot, wet lips closed around it instead.

Her lashes trembled like butterfly wings as her tongue wound around the invading finger. Her pearl-white teeth shifted targets—from biting her fingertip to teasing her finger pad—before circling back again, as though savoring a lollipop, again and again.

The act itself was brazenly familiar, yet in this new place it felt wholly different: her flushed ears betraying innocence, her charm both sweet and dangerously alluring.

Yúnxī’s gaze deepened. She drew a sharp breath and suddenly pulled her hand back, only to press her wet fingertips hard against Qīngruò’s lips, smearing saliva across them. Droplets slid from her jawline into the towel, beading like crystal on her collarbone.

The only sound left in the room was ragged breathing—whose, neither of them could tell.

Qīngruò wanted to look away, shy and flustered, yet afraid that if she fled again, Yúnxī would only slip further away.

Her knuckles whitened against the towel, feeling the slender frame trembling in her arms, and yet—unable to push her away.

When teasing fingers slid down her waist, Yúnxī caught the wandering wrist against the tub’s rim. But when her palm brushed the bruises left by the IV drip, her grip instinctively softened.

“Yán Qīngruò… what are you trying to do?” The Alpha’s ears burned scarlet. Was she testing whether she’d react to her body? Was that really all Qīngruò thought of her—that she was that impatient, that shameless? She was injured, feverish, and yet—

“Āh Yún… does it still hurt here?” Her lashes, damp with droplets, brushed her shoulder as her hand slid lower, toward Yúnxī’s knee.

The place where Song Méi had once tried to poison her with drugs.

Understanding dawned. Her fingers trembled. She had misunderstood.

Bubbles rose and burst on the surface as the woman leaned in like a mermaid, lips and nose brushing her knee—right where the surgery scar marked her tibia.

Yúnxī’s waist trembled. The beauty before her was like a serpent, pressing her back against the tub, her tongue gliding down her knee with a tenderness that made her shudder.

The sensation was too familiar, too overwhelming.

Rose petals clung to Qīngruò’s wet hair, slipping into the water as she bent lower. Damp strands brushed against the old scar on Yúnxī’s thigh, her breath searing against sensitive skin.

Yúnxī’s head fell back, colliding with the tub. Ripples surged. Her face flamed red as she tried to haul the woman up—but her strength betrayed her.

Qīngruò’s tongue traced the scar, each touch a spark of electricity, her lips closing around the hollow of Yúnxī’s knee, then traveling higher, until—

Yúnxī groaned, clutching damp hair, only to press deeper, unable to stop.

Was there ever such a weak Alpha?

Qīngruò was the one sick and fevered… and yet—

________________________________________

Water splashed, drowning out the sound of the photo frame falling again.

And then, like a mermaid breaking the surface, Qīngruò surged up, seized Yúnxī’s neck, and pressed her fever-hot, rain-wet lips to hers.

Yúnxī froze—then took control, gripping her nape, forcing her lips open, and claiming every breath, every trace of sweetness. The kiss deepened until the water sloshed over the tub, the frame slipping to the floor, its ink blurring into the soft shape of a heart.

At last, breathless, Yúnxī rubbed her thumb over Qīngruò’s swollen, bitten lip, pressing her forehead to hers. “This is the last time. I told you—you’re not allowed to kiss me there again.”

But before she finished, Qīngruò bit her ear and whispered with a mischievous laugh, “Āh Yún, your heartbeat is even wilder than the water.”

Yúnxī was speechless. The suppressant might as well have been for nothing—because Qīngruò had found the other weakness, the one that responded only to her.

Damn it. Embarrassing. Infuriating. Shameful.

“Don’t say last time. We still have a hundred promises to fulfill. From now on and forever—Āh Yún can only do shameful things with me.” Her soft voice was sticky-sweet.

Yúnxī’s heart lurched, her frustration spilling into her voice: “I’m not doing anything with anyone. Not even you!” She could not let Qīngruò think she was forgiven too easily. Otherwise, this woman would only keep pushing.

The water sloshed as Qīngruò stood, towel slipping down her slender waist. Yúnxī turned sharply, but not before catching a glimpse of flushed pink between her thighs, untouched, glistening, unbearably tempting.

Heat surged up her neck. She jerked away.

But Qīngruò caught her hand and pressed it against her waist. “This is my favorite place… the part I think is most beautiful.”

Yán Qīngruò!

Her anger flared—until she realized what she was touching. The scar. The wound she had taken for her.

Qīngruò guided her hand to it. “Āh Yún, don’t you want to see?” The scar was ugly, but more than anything, she wanted Āh Yún’s heart to ache for her.

“No.” Yúnxī’s voice was flat, though her chest softened. She picked up a towel, drying herself briskly before slipping into a white shirt, covering her figure.

Bare-legged, without glasses, Jìn Yúnxī looked… dangerously edible.

And Qīngruò felt it—deeply. Especially because in bed, Yúnxī rarely wore glasses. They only got in the way—of kissing, of touching, of all those shameful things she both dreaded and longed for.

She licked her lips, suddenly missing the ritual of Yúnxī slowly taking them off before ravaging her with stormy tenderness. Fierce. Gentle. Both at once.

Her cheeks burned. Her heart pounded. She wanted—but her body was too weak. And besides, Yúnxī wasn’t easy to coax anymore. Not like before.

But that, too, was alluring.

Yúnxī caught her tomato-red face, pinching her chin. “Yán Qīngruò, after devouring me whole, now you’re the one acting shy?”

How many times had it been already? More than she could count.

Devoured. Drained. Nothing left.

That night, Jìn Yúnxī finally succeeded in banishing her into her own room.

The woman curled under her blanket, refusing to poke her head out, looking for all the world like a mortified kitten hiding from the world.

Yúnxī smirked, quietly checked her wrist—temperature normal—then scooped up another quilt and hummed her way back to her room.

Yes. Sometimes the best cure—was poison against poison.