The Yandere Queen's Manual for Training Her Wife - Chapter 34

Qin Yan walked into the bedroom and immediately saw the little fox wrapped in a quilt, sitting on the bed in a daze.

“Awake? I made pear soup, want to try some?” Qin Yan set the bowl on the bedside table, coaxing her gently.

Every time after the fact, this young lady would get sulky, but truthfully, she was quite easy to appease.

Xia Mingtang glanced at her, then turned around and reached for the bowl herself. The blanket slipped halfway down but she didn’t care. Qin Yan hurried to pull it back up a little.

“Tastes good.” Xia Mingtang, for once, didn’t skimp on praise as she spooned mouthful after mouthful of the soup.

“As long as you like it.” Qin Yan held onto the blanket with one hand and reached out with the other to stroke that fluffy little head. “Why’s your temper so good today?”

After finishing off the bowl of pear soup, Xia Mingtang set it back down, gave her a sidelong look, and said, “When is my temper ever bad?”

“Yes, yes, your temper’s always good.” Qin Yan pulled out a tissue and wiped the corner of Xia Mingtang’s mouth.

Enjoying Qin Yan’s service, Xia Mingtang simply reached out her hand. “Where’s my pajamas?”

The next second, Qin Yan fetched the clean set she had folded at the foot of the bed and slipped it over her. “I already cleaned you up. You can shower later.”

Kicking lightly under the blanket, Xia Mingtang realized not only had she been cleaned, even her pants had been changed.

Her delicate little face flushed slightly, but she didn’t say anything.

Once Qin Yan helped her into the pajamas, Xia Mingtang spread her arms and lazily said, “Carry me.”

Her voice was naturally crisp and clear, but paired with the drowsiness of just waking, it became the purest kind of seduction.

It was like a feather brushed across Qin Yan’s heart, ticklish and soft.

She bent down, one arm circling behind the little fox’s back, the other sliding under her fair knees, easily lifting her up and waiting for the next command.

“Over there.” Xia Mingtang leaned in her arms, pointing to the windowsill.

Qin Yan obediently carried her over.

Xia Mingtang propped herself on the edge of the sill, lifted the curtain, and looked down at Yun Town’s nightscape.

The sky outside was clean and clear, washing her heart into calmness.

She sighed softly, “This place is wonderful—fresh air, fewer worries.”

Qin Yan sat beside her on the sill, wrapped her arms around the little fox from behind, and kissed her ear. “Mm, and not just that. The people are wonderful too. For example, a certain innkeeper.”

For this shameless attempt to sneak in self-praise, Xia Mingtang, for once, didn’t snap back. She simply reminisced.

“My mom always wanted to find a secluded paradise like this, to settle down long-term. But in the end, she never had the chance.”

Xia Mingtang had mentioned her family before, but this time, her expression was very different—calm, almost like casual chit-chat.

Qin Yan had heard bits and pieces about Madam Xia, but didn’t know the full story. All she could do was hold Xia Mingtang’s hand in comfort.

“I believe one day, your mother will also find her own paradise, no matter which world it may be.”

“Hopefully.” Xia Mingtang leaned back into Qin Yan’s embrace, for once feeling the desire to open up.

“You know, when my mom and dad got married, it was only the second time they’d ever met.

“Ever since I could remember, they were rarely seen in the same place. Later, they had no chance at all.

“Sometimes I don’t get it—if it’s just to maintain ties between families, why must it be through marriage? Couldn’t they just sign a contract?”

Qin Yan hugged her tighter, but stayed silent.

Political marriages had existed throughout history.

It was as if only by becoming “family” could trust truly be exchanged.

Yet, in reality, even families often failed to trust one another.

Xia Mingtang clearly didn’t expect a reply. She clenched her fist, her eyes shining with resolve. “That’s why I will never follow in my mother’s footsteps. My fate is in my own hands!”

Qin Yan was moved by her little fox’s firm refusal to marry Ji Xianglan. As for Xia’s parents, she was at least grateful they had given birth to this little fox.

She ran her fingers through Xia Mingtang’s long, fluffy hair. “Even if your mother never got the chance to stay here, you can.”

I don’t have the chance either.

Xia Mingtang thought silently.

She turned, wrapped her arms around Qin Yan’s shoulders, and said in a soft, syrupy tone, “I’m hungry. I want to eat your noodles.”

How could Qin Yan resist such sweet coaxing? She kissed those tender lips. “I’ll cook them now.”

Qin Yan tied on her scarf and went to the kitchen to boil water. Xia Mingtang quickly changed into casual clothes and opened the door.

“You only have alcohol here. I’ll go buy some drinks.”

Qin Yan didn’t think much of it, only reminding her to come back soon.

The convenience store was just next to the inn. Xia Mingtang bought two bottles of juice, then asked the shopkeeper, “Excuse me, how do I get to the nearest pharmacy?”

By the time Qin Yan set the noodles on the table, several minutes had passed before Xia Mingtang finally returned carrying two bottles.

Meeting her at the door, Qin Yan took the drinks. “Something happen on the way?”

“Nothing.” Xia Mingtang changed shoes and went to wash her hands. “I just saw Xiao Hei with his girlfriend on the way back, so I tried to pet them a bit.”

“You could?” Qin Yan handed her a towel, half curious, half teasing.

Xia Mingtang wiped her hands, her pretty face full of indignation. “Of course not! That’s why it took time!”

Pfft!

Qin Yan pushed her toward the table. “It’s fine. Tomorrow I’ll catch them for you so you can pet all you want.”

“Okay!”

Xia Mingtang pulled out a chair and sat, eyeing the bowl.

The noodles were clear and glossy, the broth light, dotted with bright green vegetables, and topped with a golden soft-boiled egg. Just looking at it made her hungry.

She slurped up a strand and sincerely praised, “Really tasty. No wonder you can run an inn in this prime spot.”

She had only learned in recent days that this alley was Yun Town’s golden district, with sky-high rent.

Qin Yan’s eyes curved happily at the compliment. “You’re speaking so sweetly today.”

But when Xia Mingtang shot her a look, she quickly added, “Of course, you speak sweetly every day.”

Satisfied, Xia Mingtang nodded.

She opened a bottle of orange juice and poured some into a cup. “You’ve worked hard. Drink.”

Qin Yan had thought that once her hand healed, the little fox wouldn’t fuss over her anymore. But now, she was touched.

She took the cup and sipped. Anything poured by her little fox always tasted sweeter.

Seeing her drink, Xia Mingtang opened her grape juice.

Qin Yan offered her own cup. “Want some of this?”

They had kissed countless times already, but she never minded more indirect intimacy.

“No.” Xia Mingtang shook her head. “You like orange juice, I like grape juice. Our tastes are different.”

Qin Yan nodded knowingly.

She remembers my preferences. She cares about me.

The dinner went smoothly and cheerfully.

That night in bed, Qin Yan had originally thought perhaps she should restrain herself after going overboard earlier.

But Xia Mingtang deliberately wore her favorite pajamas, looped her arms around Qin Yan’s neck, her eyes sparkling. “Kiss me.”

Such sweet invitations—how could Qin Yan refuse?

A gentle kiss soon deepened.

Their bodies, already familiar with desire, ignited again without restraint.

On tender skin, the trail of kisses bloomed like mandrakes—passionate and wild.

Qin Yan’s hands easily parted her soft knees.

Her tongue drank in sweet nectar, accompanied by heavenly cries.

“Qin Yan… Qin… Yan~”

One call after another.

Qin Yan didn’t wake until the afternoon the next day, roused by a knock.

She slipped into a robe, groggy, and opened the door to see Yi Yi standing outside.

Seeing Qin Yan’s sleepy look, Yi Yi said awkwardly, “Boss Qin, Mr. Gong—the florist who supplies us long-term—came. He wants to know how much to send this time.”

Rubbing her aching temples, Qin Yan answered, “Spring’s coming. Add twenty percent more than before. Let him decide the mix. By the way, where’s Tangtang?”

Yi Yi looked puzzled. “You mean Miss Xia?”

“Yeah, the little flower.”

“Oh, she left early this morning with a suitcase. Said she had something to do, didn’t say where. Why, didn’t she say goodbye to you?”

First Kill!

Yi Yi clutched the brand-new game console Xia Mingtang had given him on her way out, realizing something seemed off.

Those words sobered Qin Yan instantly. Her eyes reddened. “She left? Did she meet anyone before she went?”

“She… she met Miss Yang. They said some goodbyes. Boss Qin?” Yi Yi noticed Qin Yan looked unwell and called out cautiously.

“It’s fine. Go take care of Mr. Gong.”

—

When Qin Yan found Yang Fan, she was holding the luxury pen Xia Mingtang had gifted her, writing in a notebook.

This Miss Xia really was remarkable. In just a few days, she had given Yang Fan plenty of material.

So had Boss Qin, for that matter.

Oh—here came the other “muse.”

Qin Yan’s gaze shifted from Yang Fan to the pen in her hand, her stare so sharp it could bore holes.

Still engrossed, Yang Fan looked up and greeted her brightly. “Boss Qin.”

Qin Yan nodded, eyes glued to the pen. If she remembered right, she’d seen that very pen in Xia Mingtang’s luggage before.

Following her gaze, Yang Fan lifted the pen happily.

“This is from Xiaohua. She said she was really glad to have spent time here with us.

“You know, Xiaohua was so lively when she was around, but now that she’s gone, I actually miss her already. Back then—”

The sorrows of humankind are never shared. Qin Yan cut her off, asking directly, “Did she say where she was going?”

Yang Fan shook her head. “No, but I imagine she went home. All of us who stay here eventually have to go back, don’t we?”

Seeing Qin Yan’s distracted look, she frowned slightly. “But you two were so close. She didn’t even tell you? Did she leave you anything at least?”

Double Kill!

Back in her room, Qin Yan finally remembered her phone.

The very first message was from Xia Mingtang.

[ I’m leaving. Goodbye. ]

Six characters, punctuation included.

She dialed her number. All she got was the endless beep… beep…

Switching to WeChat, she sent a voice message—only to get a glaring red exclamation mark.

Blocked.

Outside, rain began to fall. The raindrops hit the stone slabs  (di di da da), like the moans of several late nights, bone-deep with allure.

Qin Yan turned, her gaze landing on the dining table, where half a bottle of orange juice still sat.

She grabbed it, and within three seconds, the bottle was crushed, twisted beyond recognition.

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