Yingyu Chi sought comfort by holding Jianglai’s hand. In Jianglai’s hazy memories, this had happened before—back when Yingyu, devastated by her sister’s death, had clung to her hand like a tear-soaked child until she calmed down. But this time was utterly different.
Jianglai had once been irreplaceable to them. Now, she felt reduced to nothing more than a soft, squishy pillow. Yingyu Chi held Jianglai’s hand tightly against her chest, the warmth of her sister-in-law’s body pressing gently against Jianglai’s arm. If it had stopped there, Jianglai could have simply cleared her mind and endured.
But the sensation made sleep impossible. Jianglai watched Yingyu’s breathing, waiting for her to fall deeply asleep before slowly, carefully slipping her hand free.
Yingyu, however, wouldn’t waste this rare chance to be close to her brother-in-law. The poised, ice-cold legal goddess who commanded courtrooms transformed into a clingy teddy bear beside Jianglai. She pulled Jianglai halfway into her embrace, trapping her slender hand between her inner thighs.
Jianglai swallowed hard. Her trapped hand didn’t dare move, terrified of accidentally crossing a line. She turned her head, staring at Yingyu’s face pressed impossibly close. She felt like a doll cradled in her sister-in-law’s arms.
Yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. Only softness and warmth enveloped her—a tender embrace that made her drowsy. Her thoughts grew thick and slow. Every breath drew in Yingyu’s scent, stirring a hidden current within her.
Jianglai knew the desire from earlier that evening hadn’t faded. It reignited inside her, burning hotter. But the slightest movement might wake Yingyu. She could only endure.
*Once this restlessness passes, it’ll be better*, she told herself. Yingyu might find comfort in their shared sleep, but Jianglai spent the night tormented by desire. She didn’t know when exhaustion finally pulled her under.
In sleep, she dreamed—a feverish dream of being pinned to a bed, of kissing, of being kissed fiercely by a woman. Long hair brushed her cheeks, teasing her skin. Soft bodies rubbed together.
Jianglai, who’d finally cooled down with time, trembled uncontrollably in the dream. Heat flooded her. She was aroused by a mere dream.
She didn’t want to wake. She craved this comfort. She’d endured enough in daylight; if it was just a dream, why not surrender to its pleasure?
The only odd detail was her role—the one lying beneath, the "pillow princess." But the woman in her dream did nothing extreme. Perhaps because Jianglai had never experienced this before, the dream mirrored her encounter with Xu Ruobing: kisses, caresses, nothing more.
Yet even that was enough. The pent-up desire within Jianglai found release. She felt utterly changed, drowning in the dream’s sensations, savoring every moment. It felt too real. Too sweet.
But it *was* real. Before Jianglai slept, Yingyu had slipped sleeping pills into her drink. Drugging her brother-in-law was wrong—but she couldn’t resist. She refused to lose her to anyone else.
The curtains were drawn tight. In the pitch-black room, Yingyu stripped off her sleepwear. She straddled Jianglai, pressing down the sister-in-law she’d longed for. Her fingers traced Jianglai’s skin—her slender waist, her flat stomach. Even through touch alone, Yingyu’s throat burned with longing.
If not for fear of waking Jianglai, she would have taken her right then. Instead, she could only push boundaries in the dark, feeding the fire raging inside her.
Yingyu fumbled for Jianglai’s sleepwear in the darkness, unbuttoning it. She pressed her bare body against Jianglai’s, skin to skin.
When Jianglai woke, sweat glued strands of hair to her forehead. She didn’t know if it was from clinging to Yingyu or the dream’s restless heat.
*How shameless I’ve become*, she thought, *having such dreams beside my sister-in-law*.
She sat up slowly. The space beside her was empty. Anxiety prickled—had she acted on her dream? But Yingyu hadn’t woken her. She must have gone to work.
Jianglai rubbed her face, trying to clear her foggy mind. Her skin felt sticky. A shower. She needed to wash away these filthy thoughts.
Once steady, she climbed out of bed. Then she froze. Her pajama pants were soaked through. An unknown liquid had stained Yingyu’s sheets.
Instinctively, she reached for the blanket to hide the mess. But covering it up was pointless.
Flustered, she gathered the soiled sheets before heading to shower. As she shuffled into the hallway, arms full of laundry, she froze again.
In the living room stood Yingyu Chi—completely naked, freshly showered. Her face glowed pink from the steam. Her skin glistened, softer and more tender than Jianglai had ever seen.
