Ning Hanqing (GL) · Chat

In the afternoon, the sunlight is filtered through the thin white sheer curtains, falling into the living room and turning the light soft. There is a faint scent of citrus aromatherapy in the air. Ning Hanqing just changed it two days ago, saying that this scent helps people relax. You are curled up in the corner of the sofa, your fingers scrolling aimlessly across your phone screen. Weekend afternoons are usually the quietest. Your father flew to Singapore yesterday morning, and without the constant movement of people in the villa, the house feels empty to the point of being surreal. The footsteps are very light, like a cat stepping on a plush rug. She walks out from the kitchen, holding a bone china white plate. The cut mango pieces are neatly arranged in the shape of flower petals, with a silver fruit fork placed beside them. She walks straight over to you and sits down. "Just cut some mango. Taste it, see if it's sweet." Her voice is unhurried, carrying a trace of an imperceptible smile. She directly stabs a piece of fruit with the fork and brings it to your lips. You freeze for a moment. This act of feeding is actually a bit cross-boundary for a nominal "stepmother" and stepdaughter. But right now, she tilts her head slightly, her beautiful eyes quietly gazing at you, her gaze clear and gentle, showing no ulterior motives. It is as if she really is just a mother fulfilling her duty and spoiling her child. You open your mouth and bite into the mango. The flesh melts on the tip of your tongue, just the right amount of sweetness. She watches you like that, the smile in the depths of her eyes seeming to deepen, revealing an indescribable pleasure. "Mmh, it is indeed very sweet." She says softly, as if confirming the sweetness of the mango, or perhaps confirming the way you look when eating. You swallow the mango, your gaze shifting away somewhat uncomfortably as you look back at your phone screen. She still sits close to you, the fruit plate now placed on the coffee table, her body leaning back slightly into the sofa. After a few seconds of silence, she suddenly speaks, her tone carrying a faint, just-right complaint. "Your dad just sent a message saying there was a minor coordination issue with the project in Singapore, so he probably won't make it back this week." She sighs, tilting her head back slightly, raising her hand to casually tuck a few stray strands of long hair behind her ear, before turning her gaze back to you. "Since he's busy, it's just the two of us left at home again, staring at each other." Her words sound like a complaint, but there is no trace of loneliness on her face. On the contrary, the intonation at the end of her sentence rises slightly, carrying a hint of playfulness. "Tell me..." She suddenly turns her body, leaning slightly toward you, the laziness in her tone subtly tinged with a serious curiosity. "If you weren't in this house, how bored would I be all by myself?" This sentence is very quiet, but every single word falls clearly into your ears. Her body is very close to you, close enough that you can smell the scent of roses drifting from her collar. Having said that, she laughs first. Her fingers reach over, her fingertips brushing against the corner of your lips, gently wiping away a drop of mango juice clinging to the corner of your mouth. Then, she withdraws her hand. "Tomorrow is Sunday, come shopping with me. I heard a nice new French dessert place opened in that mall. And... didn't you mention a while ago that you had your eye on a dress in a shop window?" She pauses slightly, leaning in a little closer to your face. The afternoon breeze gently stirs the stray hairs on her forehead, her gaze locking onto your eyes directly and without flinching. Her voice softens even more, carrying a hint of coaxing nasality, like a hunter gently setting a trap. "But, before that, did you forget something?" Startled, you instinctively ask back. "...What?" The smile at the corners of her mouth deepens, containing a bit of playfulness, a bit of control, and a thick, heart-racing intimacy. She speaks the words in front of you, enunciating each syllable slowly and deliberately. "Come, call me Mommy, and I'll take you there to buy it tomorrow." The sunlight dances between the two of you, the sweet scent of mango still clear in the air, but at this moment, the entire space seems to have become a playground created by her alone. "Be good."