A velvet puff gets treated like a velvet puff, no matter where it rolls.

“Makeup! Where’s the makeup artist?” his shout cracked like a whip in the backstage wind. “Remember to lay some foundation on this little sister; keep the usual flow; I’ll check the lights!” His words scattered like beads on a tray.

The emcee looked like a man chased by the tide; he netted Lingcai like a fish, then rushed off like a spinning top.

The moment Lingcai was tossed into the changing room, she knew she’d boarded a thief’s skiff on a black tide, no way to swim ashore.

No choice—accept fate; she exhaled and let fate’s red thread tighten.

The door opened a sliver, and Scarlet Leaf slipped in like a cat through moonlit reeds.

Lingcai had just unfastened the belt at her waist; her face heated like a steamed peach. She clicked the belt shut again and stammered, “W-what… are you doing here…”

“I came to help you get dressed, lit-tle sis-ter ✩,” Scarlet Leaf smiled, a fox’s grin set like a snare in the dusk.

She slid the lock; click—like a pebble dropping into a deep well, Lingcai’s heart fell after.

Lingcai straightened and tried to push her out. “Enough, quit messing around. I can do it myself. This place is a shoebox; you squeeze in and the air’s gone.” Her words bumped like crowded boats.

“I’m not messing—I’m serious,” Scarlet’s tone wrapped silk around steel.

“Then where are your hands going!” Lingcai slapped away those claws; the smack fluttered like a sparrow taking off.

“It’s my property; why shouldn’t I touch it?” Scarlet lunged like a hungry tiger, and Lingcai slipped away like a swallow, ducking under her arm to her back.

Lingcai pressed against the door, then slid down like a rain-wet leaf, arms folded, curling small, voice a hush like night wind. “I—I know! But watch the occasion, okay! I’m not ready. If you look now… I’ll want to die of shame.” The heat rose like wildfire; fear pricked like frost.

To convince her, Lingcai lifted her head; shy and awkward eyes met Scarlet’s, a moth drawn close to flame. “…Maybe—tonight, would that be okay…” Her voice floated like a paper lantern.

Too cute. Scarlet’s heart bloomed like a spring peach; she nodded, finally satisfied.

She hadn’t seen her bare and honest, yet these tiny details melted her heart like sugar in warm tea.

Perfect—such a cute child begs for a little bullying, like a cat batting a strand of yarn.

In light-novel terms: About My Fiancé Turning into a Tsundere Cutie.

Lingcai’s logic weighed like a smooth stone, yet letting her go felt wasteful, like rain soaking sand.

Scarlet set a condition, a feather hiding a blade. “Give me a heartfelt confession, and I’ll leave.”

A heartfelt confession, here? Under flickering backstage lights, the idea felt absurd, a dove on a battlefield.

But her posture said she’d never give up, like a pine holding snow through winter.

Lingcai lowered her gaze, pulled a deep breath to calm the storm, then spoke in a tremble. “Um, Lea—Leaf… I li—like you…” The word stumbled like a stone on a path.

“Cute, but no. Not deep enough.” Scarlet shook her head, steady as a metronome.

“How am I supposed to do deep! I can’t brew that feeling now! Don’t waste time… hurry out…” Her fingers reached for the lock like a kite chasing wind.

Scarlet pressed her hand, firm as a red seal. “Say, ‘I love you.’ Now.”

Lingcai humored her while pushing. “Fine, fine—love you, love you…” Her words skittered like crabs on wet sand.

Too perfunctory. Scarlet’s face hardened like winter stone; her threat gathered like a storm. “Be serious, or I’ll change you myself. And if I move, it won’t stop at clothes—you know.” The hint crawled like a shadow under a lamp.

The implication hung in the air like thunder you feel but don’t see.

Lingcai feared that fate, yet Scarlet pressed step by step like waves shouldering the shore.

She rose on tiptoe; still couldn’t reach Scarlet’s face. So she patted Scarlet’s shoulder. “…Come here. Squat a little.” Her request fluttered like a white flag.

To hear that confession, Scarlet obediently crouched like a big cat folding its legs; even crouching, she was only a few centimeters shorter, a hill beside a sapling.

Lingcai wrestled down her shyness; a blush bloomed like cherry petals. She brought that rosy face to Scarlet’s ear and breathed, “I… I love you…” The words drifted like petals on water.

Scarlet didn’t move for a long beat, still as a dawn lake. Thinking she wasn’t satisfied, Lingcai drew a deeper breath, scraped up her sparse EQ like coins from a pouch, and raised her voice. “…Like… staying with you a whole life, living together… growing old together, that kind…” Her dream painted two silhouettes at dusk, hand in hand.

Scarlet remained a statue under rain, and Lingcai thought of a grave question. Doesn’t a line like that end with a kiss? The thought beat around her ribs like a butterfly at a window.

But… She looked at Scarlet’s ear-lobe; her heart drummed like a temple bell. Shame surged like hot tide, stopping her again and again.

Calm down—deep breath—be brave, like a grown-up warrior. She gathered courage like kindling, then touched her lips to the ear-lobe, light as morning dew, and shot back like a startled rabbit.

Thud. Scarlet dropped, a toppled willow onto the floor.

Lingcai jolted, crouched and checked; unfocused pupils, lifeless eyes, body still as a pond. Panic smoked up; she shook Scarlet’s shoulder and pinched the philtrum. “Leaf! Leaf, wake up! Leaf!” Her voice struck like a match.

Puff—two bright red streams flowed from Scarlet’s nose, twin ribbons unrolling. Then her soul seemed to return like a kite reeled in; she sat up, pinched her nose, and dammed the flow.

Nose pinched, voice thick as cotton, Scarlet told her, “I’m fine! Don’t worry! I—I’ll wait outside! I’m going first!” The words tumbled like marbles.

She opened the door and ran, straight to a tap, rinsing blood while replaying the scene like a film reel.

Too good—was she raised on pure cuteness? The impact was lethal, a blade hidden in silk.

When Lingcai whispered “I love you” into her ear, Scarlet already felt her body bolt from her grasp, soul drifting like mist.

She meant to stop there, but Lingcai’s next move stunned her more; that careful, shy touch on the ear-lobe stirred the heart more than a real kiss, sharp as moonlight compared to noon.

It’s like the difference between a fleeting glimpse of white panties under a skirt and a bikini. The latter is practical; the former is art, a veil teasing the eye.

Hu—after brief pressure, the nosebleed stopped easily, a stream meeting a dam.

Scarlet lifted her head; the mirror showed a grin she couldn’t control and a blush like evening clouds that wouldn’t wipe away.

Heh, heh—she laughed at her ridiculous reflection, laughter bubbling like spring water.

Then she buried her head in her arms and crouched, muttering to herself as that blush deepened like poured wine. “…Good thing she’s mine…” Warm possession spread like a hand on a brazier.