Escaping from the Yandere Young Heiress - Chapter 29

The aluminum foil medicine packet, bathed in the slanting sunlight, resembled a small, silent silver shield, its surface reflecting a cold, metallic sheen.

Jian Anji stared at it, her fingertips unconsciously curling and relaxing.

Taking the pills meant surrendering to the pain, accepting Leng Tan’s ambiguous “concern,” and perhaps even admitting defeat in some way.

Refusing them meant enduring the pain, using her body’s suffering as a form of resistance, or… perhaps simply because Leng Tan’s “it’s best not to take them” had become an unspoken prohibition.

In the end, she didn’t touch it.

Instead, she reached out and pushed the packet to the far corner of the desk, half-concealing it behind a stack of blank label sheets.

Out of sight, but not necessarily out of mind.

“I need to rest for a while.”

She stood up and left the study.

Instead of returning to the guest room, she stopped in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling window in the living room.

Outside, the afternoon city was bathed in a lazy golden light. Traffic moved slowly, and distant glass curtain walls reflected blinding rays.

The world continued to spin at its own pace, indifferent to her struggles and choices.

Dinner was her responsibility.

She walked to the kitchen and opened the massive double-door refrigerator. Inside, a wealth of ingredients were neatly arranged, like items on display in a cold storage warehouse.

With little appetite and no desire to cook, she grabbed a carton of yogurt, a bag of toast, and poured herself a glass of water, settling for a quick and simple meal.

The food was simple, and the meal was over quickly.

As she washed the dishes, the hot water flowing from the faucet made her feel a little dazed.

Last night’s hot water had washed over her whip marks, this morning’s had brought a brief moment of clarity, and now, the hot water merely rinsed away the insignificant food scraps from the dishes.

The water was the same, yet the circumstances were worlds apart.

By the time she finished cleaning up, dusk had already begun to fall.

The last rays of the setting sun painted the clouds a magnificent crimson and violet, only to be quickly swallowed by the deepening twilight blue.

The city lights began to twinkle, neon signs flickering on one after another like a false, ignited galaxy.

The solitude was even more unbearable than she had imagined.

Without Leng Tan’s presence, the apartment felt overwhelmingly vast and eerily silent, so quiet it made her ears ring.

Every exquisite detail, every piece of expensive furniture, silently proclaimed Leng Tan’s taste and control, reminding her of her status as a guest or perhaps a prisoner.

The whip scars on her back seemed to throb more vividly in the silence, pulsing in sync with her heartbeat.

She turned on the television.

The massive screen flashed with bizarre images and blaring sounds, utterly clashing with the room’s atmosphere.

After a few minutes, she irritably switched it off.

The silence that followed felt even heavier.

She walked to the bookshelf, not the one in the study, but a small decorative shelf in the living room corner. It held beautifully bound art books and original-language novels, clearly untouched.

She randomly pulled out a book and opened it.

The paper was smooth, the printing impeccable, but the content couldn’t hold her attention.

The words and images felt utterly disconnected from her reality, as if viewed through frosted glass.

In the end, she simply hugged the heavy art book, curled up on the living room sofa, her gaze fixed on some distant, unfocused point in the air.

Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl, as if stuck in molasses.

Night had fully fallen.

The lights outside the window shone brighter, yet felt even more distant.

She lost track of time. Maybe it was eight o’clock, maybe nine.

Finally, the sound of a key sliding into the lock echoed from the entryway.

Jian Anji’s body tensed instantly. The sketchbook in her lap slipped from her hands, landing on the carpet with a soft thud.

She straightened up quickly, smoothed the hem of her loose-fitting pajamas, and fixed her gaze on the door.

The door swung open.

Leng Tan walked in.

The moment the door opened, light from the hallway flooded in, outlining Leng Tan’s figure.

She carried the crisp chill of the night air with her. Her navy blue skirt suit appeared even darker in the dim light.

She still clutched her black clutch in one hand. In the other… she seemed to be carrying a medium-sized, dark-colored paper bag.

Her steps weren’t as steady as usual, carrying a barely perceptible hesitation that could have been fatigue, or perhaps something else.

The click of her heels echoed on the marble floor of the entryway before softening as she stepped onto the thick carpet of the living room.

Her gaze immediately locked onto Jian Anji, who had suddenly sat up straight on the sofa, and the thick art book lying open on the carpet.

Her eyes lingered on the book for half a second before shifting to Jian Anji’s face.

Jian Anji lowered her eyes, avoiding that gaze.

She could smell a faint, unfamiliar scent clinging to Leng Tan, mingling with her usual cool fragrance. It wasn’t smoke or alcohol, but something more complex, like the distinctive aroma of a high-end restaurant or venue, perhaps with a hint of… the lingering, slightly tipsy languor of the night?

“Still awake,” Leng Tan said, her voice deeper than before she left, with a hint of huskiness from work or socializing.

It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“…Yes, Master,” Jian Anji replied softly, her heart racing uncontrollably.

Leng Tan seemed different from her usual self.

Without another word, Leng Tan casually tossed her handbag onto the entryway console, picked up the dark paper bag, and walked straight over.

She stopped in front of the sofa, looking down at Jian Anji.

Standing so close, Jian Anji could see past the woman’s flawless makeup, noticing the faint weariness at the corners of her eyes and brows, and the deeper, more inscrutable emotions swirling in her gaze.

Her eyes lacked their usual sharp clarity, veiled instead by a thin mist, as if softened by some lingering thought or perhaps alcohol. Yet beneath this gentler surface, something darker seemed to stir.

“What did you have for dinner?” Leng Tan asked, her tone remarkably casual, even lacking her usual commanding edge. It carried a hint of… nonchalance?

“Yogurt and toast,” Jian Anji replied truthfully.

Leng Tan’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, the frown vanishing so quickly it might have been a trick of the light. “Just that?”

“Yes.”

Leng Tan didn’t press further.

She gently placed the dark paper bag she was carrying on the coffee table in front of Jian Anji.

The bag was made of high-quality paper, devoid of any branding, simply a square box with rope handles.

“For you,” Leng Tan said, her voice still even. Yet in the quiet living room, those two words carried a strange weight.

Jian Anji froze, instinctively glancing up at Leng Tan.

For me?

What is it?

Leng Tan offered no explanation, merely gesturing with her chin toward the paper bag. “Open it and see.”

Jian Anji hesitated before reaching out, her fingertips brushing against the smooth, cool surface of the bag.

She untied the drawstring and found a plain black cardboard box inside, devoid of any markings.

Lifting the lid, she discovered a garment.

It wasn’t loungewear, nor was it the understated shirts and trousers she usually wore.

Instead, it was a silk nightgown.

The color was a soft, smoky gray, almost like moonlight, and the fabric was as light as a cicada’s wing, shimmering with a delicate, lustrous sheen in the dimly lit living room.

The design was simple: spaghetti straps, a V-neckline, and knee-length, with no superfluous embellishments. Yet the cut and material spoke of considerable value.

Jian Anji’s fingers froze on the edge of the box, her breath catching in her throat.

Why… why give me this suddenly?

After the intense “game” of the previous night and this morning’s dressing change, on this evening she was spending alone, Leng Tan had brought home such a… feminine nightgown, one that even carried a subtle hint of suggestion?

“Try it on,” Leng Tan’s voice came from above, devoid of emotion yet carrying an undeniable authority.

Jian Anji looked up, meeting Leng Tan’s gaze. In the dim light, those eyes were like deep pools, their calm surface concealing currents she couldn’t fathom.

Was this garment another form of “reward”?

A new way to mark her as property?

Or… some more obscure expression, one that even Leng Tan herself might not fully understand?

She had no choice but to murmur, “…Yes.”

She picked up the silk nightgown. Its cool, slippery texture felt like a second skin against her fingertips.

She stood up, ready to return to the guest room to change.

“Right here,” Leng Tan stopped her, her tone flat but resolute.

Right here?

In the living room?

In front of her?

Jian Anji’s body stiffened instantly, her fingers clenching around the soft silk.

A wave of shame washed over her like icy water, drowning her in humiliation.

Even after enduring more degrading exposure and scrutiny, this command, given outside “game” time, in an almost ordinary setting, carried a different, more mortifying weight.

Leng Tan didn’t rush her, simply watching with a calm gaze that carried an absolute, unyielding pressure.

Time seemed to freeze in the silence.

Outside the window, the city lights flickered soundlessly.

Finally, Jian Anji began to unbutton her cotton pajamas, her movements slow and labored.

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