Escaping from the Yandere Young Heiress - Chapter 1

The whip cracked through the air and struck the bare skin of her back, leaving a vivid red welt in its wake. Leng Tan tapped her high heels against the floor, and the rhythmic clicking sound of the stiletto hitting the ground seemed to pulse against Jian Anji’s very heart.

Dressed in a deep red, V-neck gown with a high slit, Leng Tan sat on a luxurious leather sofa with her legs elegantly crossed. She watched Jian Anji with a slow, deliberate gaze as the girl knelt before her on the wool carpet. Jian Anji wore a sheer, light-colored blouse and a dark pencil skirt, her bare feet pressing into the expensive rug that Leng Tan had purchased on a whim during a better mood. Her long hair was tied in a low ponytail that draped quietly over her shoulder.

“Why have you gone silent?” Leng Tan asked as she folded the whip and used the handle to tilt Jian Anji’s chin upward. “Or are you still busy thinking of ways to leave me?”

“I am not, Miss,” Jian Anji replied in a low, raspy voice, forced to look up and meet Leng Tan’s eyes.

The whip struck her again.

“What are you supposed to call me?” Leng Tan demanded, the leather lashing out once more. “It has been a while since I last heard it. Do you need me to retrain you on how to address me?”

Jian Anji endured the searing pain on her back and fought to steady her breathing. “I know… Master.”

“As long as you remember,” Leng Tan said. She retracted the whip and began to pace slowly around Jian Anji, her movements predatory. “Do you still remember my rules?”

“I do,” Jian Anji whispered. She reached back to pull down the zipper of her skirt, revealing the red lace lingerie that Leng Tan had meticulously chosen for her. The vibrant fabric hugged her hips and thighs like a blooming Lycoris flower, its delicate petals spreading across her skin.

“Very good. Continue.”

The faint vibration of the whip’s tip seemed to linger in the heavy air. Leng Tan did not speak immediately, but instead used the whip to lightly trace the slight indentation of the spinal groove between Jian Anji’s shoulder blades. The cold sensation of the leather triggered a subtle shiver beneath the skin. Her gaze traveled slowly over her subordinate, inch by inch, like a collector inspecting a prized possession to ensure every mark met her expectations.

The plush fibers of the wool rug pricked at Jian Anji’s knees. She kept her eyes cast downward while her lashes cast soft shadows across her cheeks, and though she tried to keep her breathing level, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest betrayed her internal tension. The lace edges of her garment pressed into her skin, creating a strange contrast between the brilliant red fabric and her current state of subjection.

“Turn around.”

Jian Anji obeyed and slowly rotated her body to present her back, now marked with fresh welts, to Leng Tan. Under the warm glow of the lamps, the crisscrossing red marks appeared even more startling against her fair skin, resembling a cruel totem. Leng Tan’s fingertips brushed ghost-like over a swollen ridge of skin without any hint of warmth.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes… Master.”

“Remember this pain,” Leng Tan murmured as she leaned in close. Her warm breath brushed against Jian Anji’s reddened ear. “It serves as a reminder of who you belong to. It also reminds me…” She paused, her voice tinged with a nearly imperceptible hoarseness, “…that you are still here.”

The air in the room grew stagnant. The distant noise of the city was completely severed by the heavy curtains, leaving only the sound of two intertwined breaths, one light and one heavy. Leng Tan’s dark eyes remained fixed on the marks for a long time. Finally, she stood up and walked to a side cabinet to retrieve a bottle of white wine from an ice bucket.

She poured the pale gold liquid into a crystal goblet. She did not drink it, but instead returned to Jian Anji and pressed the icy glass against the newest welt on her shoulder. The sudden shock of the cold caused Jian Anji to flinch violently, and a short, muffled groan escaped her throat before she bit her lower lip to swallow the sound.

“Endure it,” Leng Tan said tonelessly. “Thermal expansion and contraction will ensure it doesn’t look too unsightly tomorrow.”

The glass moved slowly, branding the intertwined sensations of ice and fire deeper into her skin. A bizarre mixture of agony and the distorted illusion of being cherished began to permeate Jian Anji’s fractured senses. The temperature of the wine glass fought against the heat of her skin as the cold contact slid down her spine, bringing a sharp sting and a deeper tremor with every inch it traveled.

Jian Anji’s fingertips dug into the thick fibers of the rug until her knuckles turned white. At some point, Leng Tan’s free hand had come to rest on her uninjured shoulder. Her fingers were long and her nails were perfectly manicured, yet her grip held a commanding strength that pinned Jian Anji in place, preventing her from retreating from the icy stimulus.

“I taught you this once. Do you remember?” Leng Tan’s voice came right against her ear, feeling even more restrictive than the cold glass. “Pain has many layers. The pain of the flesh is the shallowest, and it is also the easiest to forget.”

The glass stopped at the small of her back, resting on a sensitive old scar. The chill seemed to seep into her very marrow. Jian Anji’s breathing finally broke its rhythm, turning into a faint mist that swirled briefly around Leng Tan’s hand.

“One layer deeper,” Leng Tan continued, her warm breath forming a cruel contrast to the ice in her hand, “is the pain of dignity being stripped away inch by inch. it seeps into the gaps of your bones, and after a while, it makes you lose the ability to tell if you have merely grown used to it or if you have become numb.”

She finally pulled the glass away and set it down carelessly on the carpet. The base of the glass sank into the heavy wool with a muffled thud. In its place, she laid her dry, cool palm over the spot she had just tormented with the cold and began to rub it slowly. The movement was not exactly gentle, as it carried the clinical air of someone inspecting a wound, yet it brought a strange sense of relief.

“The deepest pain is right here,” Leng Tan said as she moved her hand upward. She pressed her fingertips with moderate pressure against the center of Jian Anji’s back, directly over her heart. Through the flesh and bone, she could feel the frantic, heavy thudding of the heart beneath.

“It is the pain of knowing there is an abyss ahead of you while having no room to choose anything else. Or perhaps the choice itself is simply the beginning of a greater agony.”

Her fingers curled slightly as if she were actually grasping that pulsing heart. Jian Anji closed her eyes and allowed her senses to be completely submerged in the extreme cold, the residual burning, and this suffocating touch. She no longer knew which sensation was the hardest to bear.

“Tell me. Right now, which layer is hurting?”

Support Escaping from the Yandere Young Heiress