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Chapter Text

She’s never gotten a text from Hua Cheng. Not to her personally.

“What time are you coming home?” it reads.

Mu Qing fiddles with her phone, a Samsung staple. It came free with the new phone plan - Xie Lian had explained hastily in too many words - the phone plan under Hua Cheng’s name, for all three of them. A family plan. 850 gigabytes of 5G data and 300 minutes of call time shared among all of them, although Xie Lian happily goes without.

Xie Lian uses a Motorola, and even then, only after she had displayed a stunning lack of coordination for touch-screen appliances when she managed to sabotage the latest iPhone that Hua Cheng got her. Mu Qing remembers being so upset (she won’t lie - just the thought of it still brings an unbearable itch in her chest) when she brought it to at least eight different repair stores and was told that the device had gone through too much and would be better off left to rest in peace.

It was at least a month’s salary, and had all the relevant upgrades! It was personalised to Xie Lian! It was a luxury in ways more than one, and Hua Cheng had snarked her for being so grumpy with Xie Lian about it-!

(Bile, acrid and sour, burns through the back of her throat. She should have gotten something else to eat before drinking with Shi Qingxuan.)

Mu Qing’s thumb hovers over the keyboard. It’s only 9.22pm. She’s at the bar with Shi Qingxuan, who is curled around He Xuan’s arm like a particularly adorable parasite.

“Qing-jie,” Qingxuan slithers over and simpers prettily. “Why are you ignoring your Qing-mei to stare at your phone?”

He Xuan takes the brief reprieve to order another plate of bar bites.

“Nothing,” Mu Qing says, turning her phone over. “How many cosmopolitans have you downed?”

She should reply Hua Cheng. Should she? It’s not like Hua Cheng usually asks when she’s going back to their apartment. Usually Mu Qing updates both Xie Lian and Hua Cheng on their group chat if she’s staying out late, and Xie Lian replies with a thumbs up emoji.

And it’s not like Hua Cheng’s going to stay up waiting for her. Usually Hua Cheng and Xie Lian just pick her up from wherever, because it’s convenient, and they’ve just been out on their dinner date. Or Hua Cheng picks Xie Lian up from work, and then Mu Qing because it’s on the way.

Mu Qing taps a finger against the cover of her phone case. It’s a polaroid of Mu Qing and Xie Lian from their summer vacation in the beach resort that Hua Cheng invested in.

“Is it Hua Hua?” Shi Qingxuan asks, attempting to peek at her phone on her lap - and looking like a pervert in the process. “Did you fight?”

“No?” Mu Qing answers honestly. They haven’t had the chance to fight. Not since Xie Lian cheerily left on her volunteering trip to clean up the river in the next province, and Hua Cheng was too occupied with whatever investors’ conference in this city to tag after her.

Xie Lian had asked if Mu Qing wanted to join her, but when Mu Qing shot her a most bizarre look, Xie Lian hastily rescinded the invitation and nodded thoughtfully. She was still muttering something about Hua Cheng and Mu Qing staying together when Mu Qing left the room; as though they were two ticking time-bombs without Xie Lian to mediate. Hmph. Well, they’re both doing just fine - Mu Qing knows Hua Cheng’s schedule well enough to avoid any unnecessary interaction, and therefore, by extension, conflict.

“Hmmmm,” Shi Qingxuan leans back, smacking her tacky lips together. “Really? Then why are you out on a Friday night with us? A date night?”

Mu Qing levels her with an icy stare. She takes a swig of her whiskey. “You asked me to join.”

“You could have said no!”

“Well, too late, I’m here.”

“Boo, you whore,” Shi Qingxuan waves her hand dismissively. “So? Is it Hua Hua?”

Mu Qing resolutely decides not to answer in favour of taking another sip. Shi Qingxuan smacks her arm.

“You should reply her,” comes He Xuan’s drawl.

When Mu Qing looks over Shi Qingxuan’s fluffy head at He Xuan, the latter raises her phone - lockscreen flashing bright with every new notification. “She’s blowing up my phone now.”

“I didn’t tell her I’d be out with you,” Mu Qing blurts, a little too quickly.

Shi Qingxuan raises a brow and her drink, as though making a toast. “Atta girl, there we have it. You’re avoiding her.”

Mu Qing tosses her hair over her shoulder. It’s not like Shi Qingxuan will ever understand what it means to play second fiddle to someone who… deserves to play first fiddle. Damn. Maybe the whiskey is messing her up a little. Mu Qing shakes herself out of the haze of honeyed spice. It settles back down on her again, like a dark cloud. Shi Qingxuan pats her on the head, a little less patronising and a little more compassionately.

“We’re not dating,” Mu Qing insists, but she’s slurring a little now. “We don’t even fight now…”

That’s not entirely true, but when you chart it against their tumultuous history, it may as well be. Peace looks like Mu Qing falling behind the happy couple, Mu Qing slinking away from Hua Cheng’s watchful glare, Hua Cheng giving her a wide berth every time they bump into each other in the hallways. It also looks like Hua Cheng pushing her head down, grip on her hair firm and merciless, making snide remarks about how she’s such a slut for pussy, making her choke in between Xie Lian’s thighs without consideration for the whites of her eyes.

“Qing-jie,” Shi Qingxuan shakes her head. “Don’t cry.”

Mu Qing isn’t crying. She… she’s just kind of turned on and also bitter at the same time - a combination that occurs an embarrassing amount of times. Always so hot with a guilty rage, unable to demand anything beyond whatever Hua Cheng and Xie Lian extend to her. Like she should be grateful they’ve allowed her to trespass upon their most intimate, private moments. The ones where she’s just lying there at the foot of the bed, exhausted, while Hua Cheng and Xie Lian kiss and talk in dulcet tones, barely audible. Strange how she feels the denial even more strongly then, waiting at the gates, peering in, but always too far to fully feel the welcome. It doesn’t matter. Even if they don’t express themselves in labels, it’s no surprise that the answer to Xie Lian’s significant other is always Hua Cheng, and she, Hua Cheng’s. Mu Qing should be grateful to be a footnote. Or even an endnote - so she doesn’t disturb the harmony of the chapter.

“Oh, Qing-jie…” Shi Qingxuan begins clumsily patting her cheeks. “Did Hua Cheng do something?”

Mu Qing shakes her head. The fault is entirely her own. If she didn’t have any expectations, then she wouldn’t be swallowed whole by the black gulf of disappointment.

A weight falls over her shoulders literally. The smoky, almost-burnt notes of leather and a sweeter touch of vanilla overwhelm Mu Qing, forces her to curl inwards on herself, fingers feeling at the hems of the jacket.

“Hua Cheng!” Shi Qingxuan exclaims, and then there’s the screech of her bar stool scraping against concrete. “What did you do-”

Mu Qing tugs on Shi Qingxuan’s hand, causing her to stop. Shi Qingxuan bites her cheek.

“I was just about to ask what you were doing with my Qing-jie,” Hua Cheng’s voice is cutting, dangerous and slow. “And why I come to find her-”

“Just having drinks,” Mu Qing snaps, hands shaking uncontrollably. But she’s still sober enough to pull out a twenty from her purse and place it down next to her glass. “Sorry for interrupting your date night. I’ll see you around.”

Mu Qing weaves around Hua Cheng’s figure, dodging crowded tables to get to the exit. Hua Cheng is hot on her heels, silently striding ahead of her to hold the door open. Mu Qing doesn’t look at Hua Cheng as she steps out into the chilly streets. The jacket is still around her shoulders, complicit in her hypocrisy. Hua Cheng matches her pace, steering her towards Hua Cheng’s car. Mu Qing doesn’t get in, but she knows it’s a losing battle.

“You wouldn’t call a cab - it’s surge pricing now,” Hua Cheng says matter-of-factly.

Mu Qing’s face burns, even more so than when she was irresponsibly downing shots with Shi Qingxuan. “You think I’m that cheap?”

Hua Cheng doesn’t say anything, which, fine. Fine. Mu Qing knows when to back down. She swallows the bitter - always bitter, always so acrid and obtuse and pathetic - torrent of retorts, and slides into the passenger seat.

Mu Qing rests her cheek against the window, acutely aware that she’s just sulking right now. But it doesn’t matter, because Hua Cheng’s also radiating silent displeasure, and neither of them are the type to give in. While Mu Qing’s circumstances have always impressed upon her the importance of knowing when to pick her battles, when to retreat strategically, she doesn’t feel like doing so now. Maybe it’s liquid courage. Maybe it’s foolhardy. It’s not her fault that she’s hanging out with her friends on a Friday night. It’s not like Hua Cheng cares. Hua Cheng has no reason to care.

Her mind trails, haltingly, to the many instances of Hua Cheng’s tepid tolerance. Her mind’s addled by Hua Cheng’s scent surrounding her - thick and well-worn - as it conjures shameful memories of Mu Qing’s first times, naked and vulnerable in front of the happy couple. The way her mind couldn’t stop whirling at the permutations of how she looked, how she made them feel, how she couldn’t keep up, breathless and weak.

On the other hand, Xie Lian was so unfairly talented at everything, which apparently also included squirting like a geyser at some fixed frequency, not too dissimilar from a mall fountain! So when Xie Lian, flushed and sated with post-coital bliss, reached out to whisper if Mu Qing felt good, if Mu Qing finished... Mu Qing could only nod, swallowing down envy and fickle, bitter hurt. And over time, that came to look a little more like a busy schedule, a sudden onslaught of headache, her search history pivoting from "how to tell if you have an orgasm" to "how to fake an orgasm".

But then Hua Cheng was willing to touch her, and everything sort of tilted down sharply, like an unwanted jigsaw forced into a corner - if you didn't look too closely, you would think everything else fit. She came, hard, the first time.

See, Hua Cheng is a very devout lover. She has no issues with Xie Lian's lawn sprinklers.

It's just that, when it comes to Mu Qing... somehow Mu Qing always finds herself planted between Xie Lian's legs, desperately rocking her hips back while Hua Cheng coaxes her into a slow, uncertain climax. And Hua Cheng would always stop, right before it. Right before Mu Qing could... finish. Like she hasn’t earned it with her dismal performance between Xie Lian’s wet thighs, face dripping with Xie Lian’s slick. And it would go on and on, and Hua Cheng would call her names in extension of their rivary, while Xie Lian kicked at Hua Cheng ineffectively, half-heartedly.

Mu Qing obediently gasped and shook like an accessory between them, denied relief so many times that she began wondering if it wasn’t Hua Cheng’s denial. If it was in fact Mu Qing’s absurd, overactive mind, her selfish, calculating nature working against her to prevent her from coming properly. From being satisfied.

The truth is, Mu Qing’s achieved some twisted reality of her wet dreams: the Xie Lian and Hua Cheng of her conscience placating her, this is what you wanted, isn’t it? These are the depths you’d sink to just to have a taste, aren’t they?

Maybe it's not just Hua Cheng. Maybe it's the stupid fucking fence in Mu Qing's mind. But she feels ridiculous. She feels ridiculed by her own absurd ambition. Even now, too prideful to speak to Hua Cheng, she’s still throbbing between the legs at the thought of Hua Cheng pinning her down. Maybe she really is a fucking slut for attention. A fucking defunct slut.

The car rolls to a stop at the red light. At least Hua Cheng isn’t the type for road rage. Mu Qing continues glaring balefully out the window.

“Jie-jie arranged to call,” Hua Cheng says, controlled.

Mu Qing remembers that. Xie Lian arranged to call Hua Cheng on their group chat. She pushes down the spite bubbling up her chest. Is Hua Cheng so petty she wouldn’t spare Mu Qing the shame of being relegated to an afterthought yet again? Should Mu Qing always exist by the sidelines, waiting in anticipation to bear witness to their devotion? Their love?

Hua Cheng’s lips fall into a thin line when Mu Qing doesn’t respond.

“What did I do,” Hua Cheng grits out. “To make you ignore not just me, but also Jie-jie?”

Mu Qing steels herself.

“It’s fine if it’s just me,” Hua Cheng continues, starting the car again when the lights turn green. “But Jie-jie doesn’t deserve this.”

Mu Qing snaps, turning over to glare at Hua Cheng. The audacity! The entitlement - the, the constant protectiveness over Xie Lian, the prioritisation, the unfairness-! If they were so unhappy with Mu Qing, they should have kicked her out the first chance they got! They should have made it clear to her! Now she’s toeing the lines like an abandoned child, trapped between a rock and a hard place.

“How funny,” Mu Qing snarls, “that you should say exactly that - what have I done to Xie Lian? The way you’re speaking, it’s as though I’ve committed some grand betrayal to come between the two of you!”

Hua Cheng’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. “You’re not coming between us.”

Mu Qing laughs, cold and shrill. Hysterical, even to her own ears. “No, of course not. Who could dare break up the couple of the century? If you’re not happy, you can always toss me out. That way there’d be no one else to interrupt, no one to-”

The car brakes to a halt. Mu Qing thinks Hua Cheng might just kick her out right now, surge pricing be damned.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Hua Cheng’s still staring ahead, hands on the steering wheel.

“I never pegged you for a coward. But it sure does make sense that you’re doing this now when Xie Lian’s conveniently out of town, doesn’t it?”

“I would never do anything behind Jie-jie’s back.”

A deep frost begins to spread in Mu Qing’s chest. Confirmation that it’s not just Hua Cheng, it’s Xie Lian too. “Oh, of course, because you’d do everything your ‘Jie-jie’ wants. Follow any whim of hers-”

Before Mu Qing knows it, Hua Cheng is grabbing her hair by the roots, pulling her face close. There’s an intensity to Hua Cheng’s dark eyes that Mu Qing marks as anger. Affront. It burns, cleanly, like fire. Mu Qing tries pushing Hua Cheng away, but her hair’s in her hand, and all it does it cause Hua Cheng to yank. She shrieks, head falling into place against Hua Cheng’s palm.

Scared and horny. God, Mu Qing never changes. She swallows, and Hua Cheng lowers her face so they’re nose-to-nose, Mu Qing barely able to keep the unaffected, sassy facade she finds she has to maintain in front of the younger woman. They both know it’s a farce, Mu Qing’s face so thin it barely matters what she tries to show. But it’s just her luck she’s been cursed with pride so brittle, she has to feign indifference.

“As though you wouldn’t,” Hua Cheng growls. “But you were the one who refused to go with her! For what? To punish her? To punish me?”

“There we go again, making everything about you,” Mu Qing scoffs.

“Funny how you say that, when you’re playing victim now.”

(See? She’s right. Mu Qing can’t be anything but a nasty, hardheaded pragmatist. She can’t be soft like Xie Lian. Can’t be sweet, or treated gently.)

“And you’re the good guy, huh? Always smarter, always right.”

“Seems like someone has to, if you’re spewing nonsense like this.”

“I wonder how she puts up with you. Arrogant, blunt, fucking, prick!”

Hua Cheng’s face darkens. “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about that, isn’t it?”

The chill that falls right down Mu Qing’s spine must settle on her own face. She can feel her brows unfurrow, her sneer vanishing; her face shutting down. Right. Right, well. Hua Cheng has always made it clear that Mu Qing’s never had a place anywhere - even now, she can count on one hand the number of times she’s sat in shotgun.

Seeing that she’s got no rebuttals left, Hua Cheng releases her, and starts the car again.

It’s not just that. It’s the couch that’s too narrow and the chair placed opposite it. It’s the shot glasses that came in a pair, and the streaming subscriptions that Mu Qing leeches off. Sometimes they have inside jokes. Mu Qing can guess what they mean, but it always comes down to a split moment’s hesitation, wondering, if that was about her.

Hua Cheng hates her anyway. Hua Cheng lords it over her all the time, telling her she’s easy, making her spread her legs in obscene and flexible positions. Hua Cheng tells her no, even when she’s about to beg. Hua Cheng likes to see her cry.

Hua Cheng knows there’s something wrong with Mu Qing, can see the way she’s broken and bad at sex. Hua Cheng knows she’s not good enough for Xie Lian.

But what can Mu Qing do if she won’t leave? Maybe she should stick to apathy.

The car stops. Mu Qing knows they’re back at … at the apartment. The car door on her side opens, and Hua Cheng just stands there, as if to say, don’t you have legs yourself?

Mu Qing has legs. Mu Qing has dignity, whatever remains of it. She lets the jacket fall off her shoulder and back on the seat, climbing out of the car. Hua Cheng’s hand is on her elbow. She leans in, retrieves the jacket, and wraps it around Mu Qing again.

They head up the elevator, Hua Cheng steering her unkindly.

When they get to the penthouse, and Hua Cheng has let her arm go, stepping forward to remove her own shoes and then kneeling on one knee to unlace Mu Qing’s. And the lamp above is a warm ochre, while the rest of the house is quiet and cold in the blue night. She feels it bubble up her throat, sticky resentment curdling into acerbic shame.

“I’ll find another place,” Mu Qing says.

Hua Cheng pauses.

“I’ll move out,” Mu Qing says again, too loud for this silent space.

Hua Cheng’s hands are still around her left ankle. Mu Qing has to think. She has accumulated many things since moving in. If she starts packing tomorrow, and if she asks Feng Xin, no, maybe He Xuan, for help, she might be able to get it all done before Xie Lian returns. As for where she’ll stay… Shi Qingxuan’ll let her crash. But if she wants a place close to her work, then it’ll have to be somewhere in this neighbourhood too.

“Do you hate me that much?” Hua Cheng cuts through her frazzled thoughts like butter.

That’s funny. Mu Qing actually giggles. “Pot, kettle. You’re the one who hates me. Isn’t this great? I’m blessing the two of you. You can be happy together forever without distractions.”

Hua Cheng doesn’t move.

The alcohol loosens her tongue. “And if you want a good - no, just a quick fuck, you can just call. We’re on the same family plan, aren’t we?”

At this, Hua Cheng rises so suddenly that it throws Mu Qing back against the door. Hua Cheng has slammed her against the door and made her suck her dick, once. And her knees had ached so badly, and Hua Cheng made her worship it, work for it. Before fucking Xie Lian with that same dick she’d prepared. Mu Qing, strap-drunk and bitter, sat out of the way with a dazed ache in her throat, until Xie Lian beckoned her over and made Hua Cheng fuck her too. She came thrice, clutching onto Xie Lian’s shoulders, seated on Hua Cheng’s lap, unwilling to part from the mess of their limbs - in that moment, each of them indistinguishable from one another, collapsing into the same sweaty warmth that enveloped Mu Qing.

Plaything. Is that what they call it?

She doesn’t see Hua Cheng’s expression. Mu Qing keeps her eye trained on the spot on the floor. But even that’s hard to keep track of.

“You-” Hua Cheng tilts her chin up, swiping her tears away. “Qing-jie, you…”

“I’ll move,” Mu Qing repeats, dull on her tongue. “I’ll go.”

“Don’t,” Hua Cheng says, cupping her cheek so tenderly it feels like a lie. It must be - with the way Hua Cheng’s hand is shaking with palpable anger.

Anger. Resentment. Envy. Disappointment. They blend into the sulky shape of Mu Qing’s taut chin, jaw too tense to look natural. To look unaffected. She wants to win so badly in this zero-sum game. All she does is hurt.

Hua Cheng steadies herself with a breath. Mu Qing shudders in exhalation unwittingly. “Qing-jie, I don’t hate you.”

Mu Qing laughs, pushing Hua Cheng’s hand away. “Don’t look so miserable. Are you so scared that I’ll tell on you? I won’t tell Xie Lian anything. It’ll be our dirty secret. Hah. How about that?”

Something flickers across Hua Cheng’s face. It’s hard to tell in this light.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Hua Cheng says, hands bracketing Mu Qing’s waist. Mu Qing arches her back on instinct, heat trilling up her neck. “You’re not- if I hated you so much, would I let you in my house? In my bed? I know everything about you. More than you know. More than you think.”

“You don’t even-” kiss me when we fuck, you don’t even hold my hand, Mu Qing bites her tongue before she can yield these wretched complaints.

“Tell me what I don’t do,” Hua Cheng presses.

“You… y-you don’t,” Mu Qing looks away before she can be tempted by honesty, but the firm hand on her chin forces her to stare back into Hua Cheng’s face.

Hua Cheng’s piercing gaze leaves her flayed open. Mu Qing shudders, slapping at Hua Cheng’s hand again. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

She must be out of it, because her flailing arm misses, barely striking Hua Cheng across the nose. Mu Qing winces, unsteadily readying herself to flee.

If anything, Hua Cheng tightens her grip on Mu Qing’s waist, pulling her close. “What, so you get to run? Where’d you even go?”

“You fucking asshole-” Mu Qing melts easily at the squeeze around her torso, overwhelmed by the earthy smoulder of leather. “I’ll go, I’ll really go-”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence, because Hua Cheng is biting into her shoulder. Pain shoots through the fog of her uneasy, untethered anger. It shatters into a sickening gasp, pools hot between her legs. Shame-riddled, Mu Qing begins to sob. She clutches onto Hua Cheng’s shoulders, her strong back, the thick mane of her hair. She can feel Hua Cheng’s teeth skimming tender skin, sharp and pinched, heavy, like marbled tiles.

“You’re mine,” Hua Cheng mumbles into her shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Hua Cheng picks her up like she’s nothing, arms strong around Mu Qing’s deadweight.

She tosses Mu Qing into her bed - hers and Xie Lian’s - and, and Mu Qing lies there, spread out and loose with exhaustion. She tugs on the lapels of the jacket with weak fingers. Hua Cheng leans over her, dangerous, and Mu Qing wants to cry. But all Hua Cheng does is pull down her dress so it covers her thighs.

“Stay.”

Mu Qing scoffs. It comes out as a little huff. Where would I…  Mu Qing silences her traitorous mind, turns her head to the side to stare at the wandering shadows on the closet door. It smells like clean lavender linen. She needs to get some more from the store - it’s running out.

Hua Cheng’s hand comes up to rest somewhere below her chest. It’s warm.

She leaves the room. Mu Qing lies there, back enveloped by the drowsy heat of her own body and the jacket. She lifts her sluggish head up, fingers tugging at the hairtie secure against her skull. It’s too tight. It hurts her hair.

Hua Cheng’s hands come to rescue her from the tangle of her fingers. Cradled by the palm of Hua Cheng’s hand, face buried in Hua Cheng’s chest, legs tangled in the sheets - Mu Qing thinks the ironies are running dry. Her hair falls around her, but Hua Cheng doesn’t release her. Instead, she makes Mu Qing sit up, leaning against Hua Cheng’s shoulder.

“Drink.”

Mu Qing drinks. “You’re not going to fuck me?”

Hua Cheng makes her take another sip. “Do you want me to?”

Mu Qing doesn’t answer. She thinks of saying yes, but her heart jolts like it might give out anytime. If Hua Cheng fucks her right now - it would be so easy to reach under her dress. They wouldn’t even need to look at each other. Mu Qing could come, even like that. Even without kisses.

“You’ll need to drink if you keep crying like that,” Hua Cheng says, coaxing Mu Qing inwards, pressing her head against Hua Cheng’s shoulder. “Crybaby.”

There’s a pause as Mu Qing takes another sip. “You always fuck me till I cry.”

Hua Cheng’s hand stills on the downstroke. Hua Cheng’s pulse is quick and heady under her ear. Mu Qing sighs, breathes, chokes on air. The hand on her head shifts to her back, patting her gently. The rhythm of it escapes her. All she knows is her legs tangle against scuffed denim, her eyes too sore and leaking to flounder for a hint of Hua Cheng’s face.

In the morning, she prays in vain. In the morning, if I wake up alone…

She plunges into quiet mercy.

Chapter Text

Morning hits her like a sack of bricks. She was dreaming of, they were cutting admissions for her college, and she wouldn’t be able to complete her degree anywhere, which meant her professional license was revoked, and. And then she had to go find Shi Qingxuan for help, because Shi Qingxuan was unemployed for a bit and would know what to do.

“That’s stressful,” comes Hua Cheng’s muffled voice somewhere behind her. “You’re not in college anymore.”

There’s something damp over her eyes. Slightly warm.

Mu Qing pulls the tea towel draped over her face off. Her vision’s a bit fuzzy, but otherwise she’s aware of the arm curled over her waist. Hua Cheng’s face is nestled against her shoulder blades, even though Hua Cheng’s taller. Mu Qing sinks back into the comfort of the mattress below her, the pinched herbal scent of lavender. Hua Cheng isn’t particularly warm, but behind held like this is a surprise. One that makes her feel like falling back into sleep.

“I’ll put that away for you,” Hua Cheng says, taking the towel from her.

As Hua Cheng gets up, and Mu Qing draws the duvet over her shoulders - there’s something bunched up against her other shoulder, oh, that’s the jacket.

Mu Qing sits up, a little more awake. Hua Cheng doesn’t… cuddle her. Not usually. Usually she’s making breakfast already, and Xie Lian is outside cooing over her artisinal pancakes. And Mu Qing has to make the stealthy walk of shame back to her own room to change. It always smells so good. But none of it is ever for Mu Qing.

When Hua Cheng returns, it’s her messy black hair tossed over her shoulder to expose the black trail of tattoos along her left arm; it’s the black binder cropped right under her rib, and Mu Qing can see the constellation of moles beside her belly button; it’s the shorts that are way too short, curved hems exposing milky thighs. Mu Qing feels her throat run dry.

“We didn’t sleep together last night,” Mu Qing blurts, when Hua Cheng raises a brow.

Hua Cheng stands right at the foot of the bed, giving her a considering look. “We slept together. You’re asking if we had sex.”

Mu Qing flushes. She needs to change. She can feel the back of her hair clumping up from sweat.

“We didn’t,” Hua Cheng confirms, eyes still narrowed in assessment. “Why does that matter?”

Something deeply unnerving begins ticking in the bottom of Mu Qing’s stomach. Hua Cheng isn’t always blunt like that, with her. There are too many anomalies, too many variables. They tend to skirt around each other like waves, always in ripples, never anchored to a knowing point. Mu Qing bunches up the jacket in her hand.

“It doesn’t,” Mu Qing says instead. “I’m going to get changed.”

Hua Cheng just looks at her, the way one might do with a feral animal. Wary, maybe. Almost pitying. Mu Qing looks away.

“I wouldn’t take advantage of you,” Hua Cheng says quietly.

“That’s not what I-!” Mu Qing’s voice breaks. “I just, I- I’m, never mind.”

Hua Cheng watches her slip out of the bed, leaving the jacket behind. Before Mu Qing can leave the room, however, Hua Cheng has caught her hand.

“I made breakfast,” she says, uncharacteristically muted.

Mu Qing’s shock must be apparent on her face (she can physically feel it tug on her jaw), because Hua Cheng’s frown deepens. Hua Cheng didn’t leave the room for long. Which must mean that she woke up, made breakfast, came back to- to, what, lie next to Mu Qing -? Her arm carelessly sprawled over her torso, her face buried in her back. Curled up next to her. The damp towel, still warm, across her eyes.

Mu Qing didn’t do anything last night to warrant this. Mu Qing didn’t- couldn’t have; she knows the shots she downed at the bar fucked her up good. She’s not a good lay, especially literally, so all of this… stilted tenderness from Hua Cheng is just strange. It’s suspicious. It has to be.

“You’re shocked,” Hua Cheng says, with the same careful drawl of an observing scientist.

Before Mu Qing can help herself, she hears a hesitant voice peeling from her throat, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

She regrets it immediately, seizing up. She needs to leave the room. Before… before she can do any more harm. Before she can say something else she means, something else she doesn’t mean. In Hua Cheng’s presence, nothing she does is right. But her legs are cold and weak and glued to the ground, and she has the misfortune of seeing an open gash of hurt startle across Hua Cheng’s face.

“I’m not being nice to you,” Hua Cheng says, torn, and presses a hand to her forehead. “I mean, I’m not- I’m doing what I always do.”

“What you always do for Xie Lian,” Mu Qing echoes.

“Not just for Jie-jie, I-” Hua Cheng takes a deep breath, but doesn’t step forward to close the distance. “I do it for you too.”

“That’s not-”

“But you’ve never accepted it. You’re always gone in the morning.”

“I wouldn’t want to overstay.”

“You’re not overstaying,” Hua Cheng sighs. “Let me, can I just- I think we’ve gone about this the wrong way around.”

“Someone’s knocked you out and replaced you with- with,” Mu Qing gestures wildly at this sentient, sincere creature before her.

Hua Cheng laughs, thumb smoothing over Mu Qing’s clammy fingers. She tugs Mu Qing back to sit on the bed, a point of connection. At the last moment, Hua Cheng’s arm comes to circle around Mu Qing’s waist, holding her in place so she’s straddling her lap.

“You-! You shameless-” Mu Qing exclaims, knees digging into the mattress on either side of Hua Cheng.

“Still think I’m replaced by whatever?” Hua Cheng teases, resting her hands on Mu Qing’s lower back.

“S-stop toying with me,” Mu Qing protests, but she doesn’t get up.

“I’m not,” Hua Cheng is a little more serious now. “I think there’s a misunderstanding.”

Mu Qing rolls her eyes. It makes Hua Cheng laugh, just a little, unintended. She schools her face into something earnest, which is even weirder when directed at Mu Qing. It’s like they’re on the cusp of some transformation, a pixelated image slowly coming into focus. She can see each individual lash of Hua Cheng’s eyes, the asymmetrical slant of her nose (banged up from some fight), the drying lines of her lips. Reintroduced to Hua Cheng’s features in daylight, up close, sends a strange tingly sensation in her chest.

“I think… you think that I hate you,” Hua Cheng says. “I don’t. I really, I don’t. It’s the opposite, in fact.”

Mu Qing’s laugh is harsh and ripped from her throat in ghastly reproduction of disbelief. See? See how it slashes hurt across Hua Cheng's face? “What, you love me?”

“I like you a lot,” Hua Cheng says, a healthy compromise. “More than you think. I…I don’t want to hurt you, but I think I have.”

Mu Qing stares right back at her, eyes wide and… is it fear she feels? The thought of Hua Cheng’s hands, wide and long enough to cradle her waist; her advantageous height reduced to a flimsy quiver under Hua Cheng’s gaze.

“You think you can hurt me?” Mu Qing challenges, but it comes out more like a genuine question.

“I think we’ve hurt each other, many times.” The hands on her lower back come forward to tuck Mu Qing’s hair behind her ear.

The intensity of Hua Cheng’s honesty stings, prickles red under Mu Qing’s thin skin. Mu Qing wants to laugh it off - her, hurting Hua Cheng? It sounds ludicrous, just as much as Hua Cheng saying she likes her. Like someone tilted the world upside down, expecting all the pieces to fall into place. How could she have any effect on Hua Cheng, when she feels the sore gravity of dancing in Hua Cheng’s palm, torn between wanting and knowing she’ll never…

Hua Cheng’s hand cups her ear, thumb rubbing at her earlobe. She must have helped take her piercings off last night, or this morning, at some indeterminate, hazy time.

“Tell me what I don’t do,” Hua Cheng says, a mirror of last night - steeped in consideration so keen it jams like an arrow between Mu Qing’s ribs. “Tell me what ‘m not doing now.”

“You…” Mu Qing stutters, fluttering the way her heart does, under the bunched-up fabric of her dress. “You don’t kiss me.”

The back of Hua Cheng’s hand skims her cheekbone, two fingers falling down to press against Mu Qing’s lips. A question. Mu Qing doesn’t close her eyes, not fully, tipping her chin down.

When Hua Cheng meets her, it feels even more terrifying to know that Mu Qing fully forgets to breathe. Hua Cheng’s exhale is warm against her philtrum, lips paused against her own - solid weight, staying. A hand runs down her spine, prompting Mu Qing to shudder, to close her eyes, to thaw against… against a patient self: Hua Cheng.

Mu Qing feels the tears trickle down her cheek, gathering at her chin. She pulls back, wipes at her own tears.

“Is that what you think kissing is?” Mu Qing challenges, watching the lights glimmer in Hua Cheng’s eyes.

Hua Cheng scoffs, “I was going easy on you.”

Without warning, Hua Cheng flips her over, tosses them both on the bed so they’re laying on their sides, face to face. Hua Cheng pushes her hair out of her face, leans in, and they’re kissing, for real this time. Soft wet noises between the two of them, languid like the morning - what’s the rush? Between rumpled sheets and the taste of Hua Cheng’s warm mouth, Mu Qing can pull back to breathe or gasp and sink back in to let Hua Cheng kiss and kiss and kiss.

At some point her hands start to wander, resting on Hua Cheng’s chest, then on her stomach. Hua Cheng too has found her way to cup Mu Qing’s breasts through her dress, rubbing slow, firm circles around where her nipples are, massaging around where the band of her bra bites into her skin. Someone moans, and Hua Cheng’s mouth is upon hers again, slick with spit.

“You like this, Qing-jie?” Hua Cheng says when Mu Qing rests her temple against the bed, catching her breath. Her hand drops to where the hem of Mu Qing’s dress meets her thigh. “Or we can keep kissing.”

Mu Qing swallows, and is spared the grueling task of debating her options when Hua Cheng’s phone rings.

It’s… it’s a good thing. Mu Qing presses her fingertips against her lower lip, already quivering from the sudden absence of heat.

“Jie-jie?” Hua Cheng says, turning the camera on both of them.

“San Lang!” Xie Lian greets happily, and then, “Oh, Mu Qing, oh-”

Mu Qing flushes. In the tiny rectangular preview, she can see her own ruffled hair, the strap of her dress pushed down her shoulder. It’s clear what they’ve been doing. In Hua Cheng and Xie Lian’s bed.

Xie Lian’s eyes take on a different glint. “A very good morning to the both of you.”

“You’re up early, Jie-jie,” Hua Cheng coos. “Do you have to work today too?”

“Not today,” Xie Lian shakes her head. “We’re getting a day off because we got quite a bit done yesterday.”

“Ah,” Hua Cheng’s hand has returned to Mu Qing’s thigh, squeezing and fondling it. Mu Qing squeaks in indignation. “And you’re alone in your room now?”

Xie Lian nods, before, before her eyes dart over from Hua Cheng to Mu Qing, and then her face immediately turns pink. “San Lang…”

Hua Cheng passes the phone to Mu Qing, and she has to hold it with both hands. Xie Lian’s glowing skin is radiant even through the terrible angle of her phone. She’s so effortlessly pretty, brown hair glowing in the sunlight like that. Mu Qing wants to… wishes she was here, too.

“I missed you, Qing-er,” Xie Lian says earnestly.

“You’re up early,” Mu Qing says lamely in lieu of other more fitting adjectives.

“I want to eat Qing-jie out,” Hua Cheng suddenly pipes up, and Mu Qing jolts.

“Oh?” Xie Lian’s voice is breathy now. “Do you want that too, Qing-er?”

Hua Cheng’s lidded eyes and Xie Lian’s blatant interest are… they’re… Mu Qing freezes. Over the phone? Over the call - Xie Lian watching? Xie Lian wants to watch?

“We don’t have to,” Xie Lian says quickly, doe eyes wide and ready to reassure. “I want whatever Mu Qing wants.”

“Fine,” Mu Qing bites out, certain that even her ears are flashing red now. “I- I, you can.”

“Much obliged,” Hua Cheng jokes, scooting over to take her place between Mu Qing’s legs.

“Do you want to- you, how should I, the phone-”

“I want to see you,” Xie Lian says, and on her end there’s some rustling. “Your face.”

Mu Qing narrows her eyes. “You’re not surprised about this.”

Xie Lian’s cheeks burn. “Well, San Lang takes a few business trips here and there… we’ve learned to make do.”

Mu Qing rolls her eyes. Then she yelps, just as Hua Cheng tugs her down, knees bent over her shoulders.

“Jie-jie’s very good at instructing,” Hua Cheng smirks, pushing Mu Qing’s dress over her hips and diving in.

“A-ah, ah-” Mu Qing presses a hand over her mouth as Hua Cheng just- licks across her panties!

“Qing-er, put your hand down,” Xie Lian smiles, too deviously.

Mu Qing inches her hand away, resting her fingertips on her lips. She… she should be talking to Xie Lian? Or watching Hua Cheng’s head bob between her legs? There’s so much going on- Mu Qing yelps again when Hua Cheng sucks on her clit through thin cotton, hands groping her thighs.

“Is it good? Tell me,” Xie Lian says, and her camera tilts a little off to the side, obscuring half of her face.

“It’s, it’s okay,” Mu Qing whispers, brushing the side of her finger across her lips. If Xie Lian were here… they could kiss. They could kiss, and Xie Lian wouldn’t have to ask-

“Yeah?”

“It’s o-oh, oh, ah-”

Hua Cheng begins making out with her, her cunt, through the panties, and Mu Qing’s hips begin to rock against her face. She can feel herself getting so wet, Hua Cheng’s breath hot against her, so close-

“You look so good,” Xie Lian sighs. “I wish I could kiss you.”

“Mmm-uh, st-stop, saying,” Mu Qing squeezes her eyes shut. “You-”

“Do you want to kiss me too, Qing-er?”

“I- oh, ah, ah, haah-”

“Can you suck on your fingers for me, Qing-er?“

Mu Qing blinks open her eyes to glare. But she… she does it anyway, her index finger breaching her lips. Salty. Warm. Wet. Hua Cheng’s thumb now flicking at her clothed clit. She takes it down to the first joint, then second joint, her own thumb resting on the corner of her lips.

“That’s so hot, Mu Qing,” Xie Lian’s voice is barely a murmur, her phone footage shaky. “I want to… I would like…”

Around her finger, Mu Qing says, “Spit it out.”

Xie Lian giggles. “I- mm, add another finger?”

Mu Qing does so, just as Hua Cheng snaps the band of her panties against her hips. “Ah!”

“You should ask her to fuck her mouth,” Hua Cheng says loudly, and the shame on Xie Lian’s face is apparent. “With her fingers.”

“I was building up to it!” Xie Lian protests.

Mu Qing rolls her eyes, and begins fucking her mouth anyway. Satisfied, Hua Cheng settles back in between her thighs, nibbling at the tender skin there.

Xie Lian's eyes are fixed to the slow squelch of her fingers fucking in and out of her mouth. As she pulls her fingers out, she licks at her fingertips, tongue pink and quick. Xie Lian rewards her by almost dropping her phone. It's then that she sees that Xie Lian's bra has been pushed up over her voluptuous breasts - a hint of dusty pink at the bottom of the screen. Mu Qing bucks her hips into Hua Cheng's mouth.

"You're touching yourself," Mu Qing says, fingers resting beside her mouth.

"Yeah," Xie Lian tries angling the phone to get a good angle of her boobs. It takes several moments before she fits one boob in the frame with her face. "Can you- can you touch yourself too? Like me?"

Mu Qing nods, propping herself up on her elbows. She unloops both straps and pushes her dress and bra down past her chest. It's so awkward, Mu Qing thinks they should invest in a tripod.

"Oh," Xie Lian moans unabashedly when Mu Qing's naked bust is presented to her. "Oh I want to put them in my mouth."

She's overheating at this point. Mu Qing lets her saliva-slick fingers trail down her collar to a nipple, circling it teasingly.

"Tell me what to do," Mu Qing whimpers.

Hua Cheng has pulled her panties to the side in favour of licking broad strokes up and down her pussy. It's distracting. It's good. Mu Qing's legs fall wider apart. That earns her a moan from Hua Cheng as she circles her clit with her tongue.

"Like this," Xie Lian says, cupping one breast (it's so big it threatens to spill out of her hand) and rolling her nipple with her thumb.

Mu Qing follows suit, and immediately settles on the resolution to purchase a tripod.

(A part of her brain says, you could have gone with her on her trip. Hua Cheng would have made time.)

"Oh, you look so good-" all she sees is a blank white ceiling, and then Xie Lian is propping her phone by the beside table, a close-up shot of breasts heaving heavy as she adjusts the phone.

When Xie Lian leans back, oh, that's where the magic happens:

Xie Lian, on her knees, a hand squeezing her breast - how soft, how pillowy, how irresistibly tender - another hand cupping her groin, moving up and down between her muscled thighs.

Mu Qing can't help the mewl that slithers from her throat. Xie Lian looks like a dream, performing for Mu Qing's eyes. She can imagine how it tastes, how it feels, to be sandwiched between Xie Lian’s thighs instead. How the pink of her folds would look, spread under her fingers. She’s so wet - she can feel the sheets turning cold and sticky under her ass.

"Look what you're making me do," Xie Lian says, teasing.

"Hua Cheng, Hua-" Mu Qing slaps ineffectually at Hua Cheng's head. "Look-"

Hua Cheng gets up from where she's peacefully eating pussy, and joins Mu Qing to revel at the sight of Xie Lian. Hua Cheng places her hand over Mu Qing's, steadying the phone.

"Jie-jie," she says, full of awe. "That's it, Jie-jie."

"I want to see Mu Qing too," Xie Lian whines - an order that Hua Cheng is only too willing to obey.

Hua Cheng has to peel Mu Qing's fingers off the phone (in her defense, Xie Lian's breasts look really good) so she can set it up against the nightstand. Mu Qing continues fucking her mouth with her fingers, knees knocking together. Xie Lian mutters some praise, getting on all fours and crawling towards her phone so she can see Mu Qing better.

When Hua Cheng joins her on the bed again, she settles behind Mu Qing, hooking her legs over Mu Qing’s knees and pulling them apart. It exposes all of Mu Qing to Xie Lian’s bright, eager eyes. Still, all she can do is press her fingers against her dripping tongue, helplessly quivering as Hua Cheng pats her wet cunt. Thwap, thwap, thwap - the sound of it so lewd and tacky that Mu Qing tries to close her legs. But Hua Cheng’s thighs are in the way, forcing her to keep them open.

“Play with your breasts,” Hua Cheng commands.

Mu Qing flutters her fingers against her nipples like a fan, arching her back and pushing her petite breasts out. They’re nothing to write home about, but Xie Lian stares anyway, enthralled, the hand between her thighs moving furiously.

Hua Cheng reaches around her to spread her pussy wide open, long fingers pushing at her folds, stretching them so shamelessly that a full-body tremor runs down Mu Qing’s spine. Slick dribbles out of her cunt. She presses the side of her face to Hua Cheng’s shoulder, gasping wantonly - little high pitched noises escaping her like a terrible pornstar.

Then Hua Cheng is pushing one finger in, and then another - she’s so wet the difference doesn’t sting anymore.

“Ah, ah, aah- Hua Cheng, Hua Cheng-” Mu Qing clenches around Hua Cheng’s fingers, feels them hook right against the tender spot of her cunt. “T-there-”

The mouth nibbling at her neck begins to suck, in tandem with the pistoning of Hua Cheng’s fingers. Mu Qing yelps, hands falling from her sore breasts to tap at Hua Cheng’s thighs. If she thought the squelching noises were bad, they’re downright filthy now-!

“Oh, Qing-er, Qing-er,” Xie Lian cries out, her mouth red and shiny. “Oh, oh- oh!”

Xie Lian’s face is replaced by the blank white ceiling again. By her ear, Hua Cheng chuckles. It tickles. It makes Mu Qing squirm.

As if inspired by Xie Lian’s orgasm, Hua Cheng adds a third finger. “Fuck, you’re so wet. Jie-jie, are you watching this?”

The ceiling shifts, blurred as pixels of grey and brown come into view, and then finally half of Xie Lian’s face - lidded eyes, slackened jaw, the peach flush of her cheeks high and supple. She pushes her chestnut hair out of her face, gaze trained on Mu Qing.

“I am,” Xie Lian promises, voice raspy. “I want to kiss you so bad.”

In response, Mu Qing brings her hand up to her mouth, tugs her lips open with her thumb and index finger. A sob springs from her chest. She wants to kiss Xie Lian too. She wants to - to hold her hand, to bury her face in Xie Lian’s hair. All she can do is stare back, half fucked out of her mind, salty fingers in her mouth.

“Fuck, Qing-er, can you rub your clit too? While San Lang fucks you?”

Mu Qing nods, her other hand falling into place. Xie Lian’s eyes on her… it’s as if she’s right there, in the same room. Mu Qing sucks on her fingers, drool trickling down her chin.

“Should I get the strap?” Hua Cheng suggests, arm stilling.

The strap… It’s all the way in the drawer. And it’ll mean that Hua Cheng will want her on all fours. Plus, Xie Lian wouldn’t be able to- to see everything. Mu Qing shakes her head, leaning back into Hua Cheng’s embrace like deadweight.

“N-no,” Mu Qing says, tongue heavy. “I want- I want, just-”

“Oh, baobei,” Xie Lian says, a goofy smile on her face. “Of course. San Lang, could you stay there?”

“Of course,” Hua Cheng mutters into the crown of Mu Qing’s head. “Anything for my Qing-jie.”

That does something warm to Mu Qing’s chest. She can feel the tears prickling at her eyes. Sandwiched between Hua Cheng’s gentle nips and Xie Lian’s pleased attention, a wave of relief flows over her, submerging her under layers of soft, pliable cotton.

“I- I-” her throat feels so far away from the rest of her, seized by gasps and sobs and whimpers. “I- l-love-”

Hua Cheng is touching her so gently, so firmly; Xie Lian’s voice is musical velvet. The heat in her stomach coils, trapping her in barely restrained tremors. Mu Qing closes her eyes, tips her head back, and allows Hua Cheng to kiss her. Hua Cheng does something, or Mu Qing clenches, and she is positively shaking so hard, so uncontrollably, core aching with effort-

She blacks out.

She comes to. The rest of her body is useless, molten and sweaty against Hua Cheng. Hua Cheng, whose hand is cupping her cunt carefully, resting the heel of her hand against her groin so she doesn’t overstimulate Mu Qing. Well, not that she’d mind. She’d let them do anything to her now. Mu Qing pants, and pants, and sobs, mind and vision frazzled by- by that. An orgasm. She came. Hua Cheng made her come. Xie Lian watching made her come. 

Xie Lian praises her in the same dulcet tone, all of it undoubtedly embarrassing. Mu Qing laps it up anyway. She lies back in Hua Cheng’s arms, fuzzy stars still in her eyes, lungs expanding and shrinking so quickly she thinks she might just pass out.

Hua Cheng and Xie Lian talk - voices far away. Mu Qing doesn’t feel the pressing need to tune in to their conversation. She just lies there, a sensitive heap against Hua Cheng’s frame; breathing in time with Hua Cheng’s own breath.

After a while, Mu Qing experiments with moving her toes. They twitch, barely connected to her exhausted synapses. Hua Cheng has taken to kissing around the shoulder that she bit into last night. It’s silly. Mu Qing giggles.

“Qing-er?” Xie Lian’s voice pulls her back. “Oh, you were so amazing.”

Mu Qing snorts. “I’m exhausted.”

Xie Lian laughs. “Oh, baobei, it’s only nine in the morning.”

“It’s nighttime somewhere in the world,” Hua Cheng quips, kissing up the side of Mu Qing’s cheek. “Reward your Mei-mei, Qing-jie.”

Mu Qing tilts her head with much effort. They kiss.

“Oh, that’s so…” Xie Lian sighs, bliss apparent in the way she licks her lips. “Let me get some water, and then we can- we can continue.”

Hua Cheng hums in agreement, untangling herself from the messy jumble of Mu Qing’s uncooperative limbs. “I’ll get some water for us, Qing-jie.”

Mu Qing’s about to tell her not to go, until the rest of her brain catches up with her. “We- we’re- continuing?!”

Hua Cheng grins, picking up her limp hand and kissing all over its knuckles. “It is only nine in the morning.”