Blind Sister
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BLIND SISTER
One pair of names. Four eras. Four different fates.
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CONTENTS
I. The Rainy Night (Contemporary · gentle)
II. The Flash Flood (Historical · innocent)
III. The Street Corner (Republican era · cold)
IV. Soul-Lock (Xianxia · proud)
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I. The Rainy Night (Contemporary · gentle)
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Contemporary · Shen Yan (18) × Su Wan (20)
Opening: a street rescue (the only one of its kind in the series — and the man never once hits back)
Heroine's temperament: gentle
Gentle / obsessive / explicit / redemptive
*
One · Standing In
At 11:40 the convenience store's roller shutter came down with a long, drawn-out rattle.
Shen Yan stuffed the keys in his pocket and started home. He was eighteen, just out of the exams, waiting on his acceptance letter, sleeping days and minding the store nights for sixty yuan a shift. He'd grown three centimeters over the summer, and his old jacket sleeves had gone short.
The late-autumn rain was light — the kind that seeps into your bones.
At the mouth of the old town alley, he heard something.
Not the rain.
"Let go."
Shen Yan stopped.
Two figures further in. A girl pinned against the wall, both her wrists caught. She had her back to him, a pale thin jacket, and at her feet a slender white cane lying crooked in the water.
She was talking, and her voice was steady — too steady for someone being held against a wall. "I can't see anything and I don't have any money. Let me go and I'll pretend this never happened."
The two men laughed.
"Can't see? Even better."
Shen Yan stood at the alley mouth for three seconds.
Then he walked in.
He didn't shout, and he didn't run. He just walked over, stepped in front of her, turned around, and put his back to the two men — so that she was walled in between the brick and him.
"She said no."
His voice was quiet.
"Who the fuck are you."
"She said no."
The first punch landed on his face. His head snapped sideways. He didn't step back.
The second punch caught him in the stomach. He folded a little, then straightened.
"She said no."
Third punch. Fourth.
His nose started bleeding, blood running down his chin into the rain.
He stayed standing the whole time and never moved. His hands hung at his sides. He never raised them once.
The two men hit him a while longer, got bored.
"Psycho."
They left.
Shen Yan stood where he was, wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and came away with blood on it.
Something gave a faint glint on the ground. He bent and picked it up — a silver earring, the cheap kind, shaped like a leaf, its edge worn smooth and bright. She'd lost it when they shoved her. It had fallen in the water and nearly been washed away.
He closed his fist around it and said nothing.
"Are you still there," the person behind him asked.
"Yes."
"You never hit back. Not once."
"No."
"Why."
Shen Yan thought about it.
"I couldn't beat them," he said. "But I didn't have to dodge."
Behind him, she went quiet for a moment.
Then he heard it — very soft. She was laughing. Not mocking. Just a short breath of sound, as if something had touched her lightly.
"What's your name."
"Shen Yan."
"Which Yan."
"The Yan in *inkstone*."
"Su Wan," she said. "The Wan in *evening*."
*
He walked her home.
She moved fast and sure, her cane tapping a steady rhythm on the flagstones, sidestepping every puddle. He kept pace beside her, still bleeding, pressing his sleeve to his nose.
At the foot of an old apartment block she stopped.
"Come up," she said. "You go home like that, you'll scare your mother."
"I live in a dorm."
"Then you should definitely come up," she said. "Nobody there to wipe it for you."
*
Her home was small — one room, one living room — and everything in it was exactly where it belonged.
She sat him on the sofa, fetched a first-aid box, and came back to crouch in front of him. Her movements were precise: she found his chin, followed it up to his nose, then soaked a cotton swab in iodine.
"Say something if it hurts."
"It doesn't."
"Liar," she said. "Your breathing changed."
She dabbed very lightly.
When she finished, she didn't take her hand back. Her fingertips rested on the bridge of his nose, then drifted down to his lips.
Shen Yan's breath caught.
"You're looking at me," she said.
"...Mm."
"What do I look like."
"Pretty."
"Be specific."
"Your hair's wet and stuck to your face," he said, voice a little rough. "Your eyes are open, but they're not looking at anything. Your lips are a bit dry."
Her finger pressed once against his mouth.
Then she leaned down and kissed him.
It was very light. Her lips were cool, carrying the damp of the rain. Shen Yan went rigid, not knowing where to put his hands.
She drew back a little.
"There's blood in your mouth."
He stared. "...You can taste that?"
"Mm," she said. "Your own. Your lip's split — from that punch."
He touched it. There was indeed a split in his upper lip. He hadn't felt it until now.
"You don't smoke," she said.
"...How do you know."
"You don't smell of smoke," she said. "Just now, when you stood in front of me, you were very close. Not a trace."
She paused.
"I like men who don't smoke."
She kissed him again. This time harder.
She caught his lower lip between her teeth, drew it in, ran her tongue slowly over it. Something buzzed in Shen Yan's skull, and his hands finally came up and closed on her waist.
She was two years older than him and thin. When he pulled her in, she almost came off the floor.
"The bedroom," she said against his mouth, breathing hard.
"You—"
"I said the bedroom."
*
No light in the bedroom.
"I can't see anyway," she said. "Saves electricity."
She undressed him one piece at a time, slow and steady. Then she took his hand and pressed it to her chest.
"Feel."
Shen Yan's hand was shaking.
"You're shaking."
"Mm."
"First time?"
His face burned.
"...Mm."
She laughed, soft, against the corner of his mouth.
"It's all right," she said. "I'll teach you."
She took off her top.
He looked at her, throat tight. Thin, but with soft curves. Very white skin, deep collarbones. Her tits were small and well-shaped, the nipples a pale pink, stiffening fast in the air.
"You're looking."
"...Mm."
"Say it. What do I look like."
"Very white. Collarbones stand out. Small tits, good shape." He paused, voice going hoarse. "Nipples are pink. They're hard already."
She laughed once and put her hand down his trousers.
Shen Yan locked up.
Her hand closed over him, palm flat, not moving.
"So hard," she said.
She ran her hand up the length of it through his underwear, from base to tip.
Shen Yan made a sound in his throat.
She pulled his underwear down.
His cock sprang free, standing up, the head glossy, already wet at one spot.
"Su Wan..."
"Mm."
"Don't—"
"Don't what."
As she said it, her fingers ringed the base of his cock, stroked all the way up, then slid slowly back down.
Shen Yan arched, both hands fisting the sheets.
She pushed him down onto the bed, straddled his thighs, and looked down at him.
"You don't have to do anything tonight," she said. "You lie there."
"Why."
"Because you stood for a long time today," she said. "Stood there that long and never moved once."
She bent down.
*
Two · Noodles
He left before dawn the next day.
She was asleep, breathing light. He stood by the bed for a long time and in the end didn't wake her.
Back at the dorm he didn't sleep all day. He lay on his bed and went over the sound of her voice again and again — not the words. The voice itself.
At three in the afternoon he was standing under that building again.
He sat by the flower bed, from afternoon until it got dark.
At 7:20 the stairwell door opened.
Su Wan came out, tapped her cane twice on the ground, and stopped.
"Shen Yan."
He went stiff all over.
"...How did you know it was me."
"You smell," she said. "Laundry powder, and a little bit of paper. You work at a convenience store, don't you."
"Mm."
"Today's the second day," she said. "Yesterday you came up to the sixth floor. Today you're sitting downstairs. Since three o'clock — you got up and walked off once, about twenty minutes."
A thin sweat broke out on Shen Yan's back.
"How do you..."
"There's a tin box by the flower bed. It makes a noise when you lean on it," she said. "I live on the sixth floor. The window's open."
She tilted her head toward him.
"What do you want with me."
Shen Yan took something out of his pocket.
"You dropped this."
He opened his palm. A silver earring, the cheap kind, shaped like a leaf, its edge worn smooth and bright.
Su Wan didn't reach for it.
"You can throw it away," she said. "It's not worth anything."
"If it's not worth anything, give it back."
"Hm?"
"You said it's worthless. So give it back," Shen Yan said. "Otherwise I'll decide it's worth something."
She was silent for two seconds.
Then she smiled.
"Come up," she said. "I'll make noodles."
*
The noodles were plain — clear broth, one poached egg, a few greens.
Shen Yan took a bite. It was very hot, and his eyes stung suddenly for no reason he could name.
Su Wan lifted her bowl and tasted the broth first.
"Too salty," she said. "My hand shook when I added the salt."
"Do you drink?" she asked suddenly.
"No."
"Not a drop?"
"...I can't hold it at all," he said. "Last time I had half a can of beer, I was red all evening and threw up."
Su Wan laughed.
"Half a can," she repeated.
"Don't laugh."
"I'm not laughing," she said. "I'll remember it."
She set the bowl down and looked at him.
"Shen Yan."
"Mm."
"When you left this morning, you stood in the doorway for a long time."
He stared. "...How do you know."
"The door opened halfway and stopped," she said. "It stayed like that a long while before it shut."
"...Mm."
"What were you standing there for."
"...I don't know."
She put down her chopsticks, stood, walked around the table, and stopped in front of him.
"Stand up."
Shen Yan stood.
"Take your trousers off."
He froze.
"Su Wan—"
"I said take them off."
*
Her fingers landed on him, very light.
"Yesterday I had you lie there because I felt sorry for you," she said. "Today I don't."
She knelt.
Shen Yan's hand went straight into her hair.
Her tongue was soft and hot, wrapping around the head of his cock, turning slowly. She was practiced and unhurried, taking him in and letting him out, going a little deeper each time. Her hand ringed his shaft, moving with her mouth, and her other hand cradled his balls, kneading them gently.
Shen Yan tipped his head back, breathing harder and harder, his lower belly tightening in waves.
"Su Wan..."
She didn't stop.
"I can't—" he said, voice wrecked. "I'm going to—"
She stopped.
When her lips left him it made a soft, wet sound.
Shen Yan stayed locked there, his cock standing up, throbbing hard enough to hurt.
"No," she said.
"You—"
"Today you hold it."
She stood, pushed him down into the chair, and straddled him.
Shen Yan went rigid.
She reached down, took hold of him, pressed him against herself, and rubbed slowly.
"Shen Yan."
"Mm."
"Don't—"
"Don't what."
As she said it, her hips sank an inch.
The head of his cock pushed at that hot, slick slit — in just a little, then back out.
Shen Yan sucked in a breath.
"Hold it," she said.
"I can't."
"You'll hold it anyway," she said. "I'm in charge."
Then she took him in, a little at a time.
*
Three · The Lesson
Su Wan had an old upright piano at home, its lid always open.
It was how she made her living. When she tuned, she turned the pins a fraction at a time with a wrench, her ear pressed to the soundboard. A piano going out of tune, she said, was like a person catching cold — you could hear the nasal edge in its voice.
That afternoon she finished tuning and turned around.
"Come here."
Shen Yan went.
"Sit."
He sat on the bench.
She stood behind him, bent down, and pressed his hand onto the keys.
"Left hand. Little finger. Press."
He pressed. The piano made an ugly sound.
"Too heavy."
"I don't know how."
"I know you don't," she said. "That's why I'm teaching you."
*
She held his fingers and set them straight, one at a time.
Her chin rested on his shoulder. Her breath fell by his ear.
"Again. Lighter this time."
He pressed. This time the note was soft.
"Good," she said. "Listen."
Shen Yan wasn't listening to the piano.
He was listening to her. Her hand lay over the back of his, cool. Her chest pressed against his back. When she spoke, her breath brushed his ear.
"Are you listening to the piano."
"...Yes."
"Your heart sped up," she said. "You're lying."
*
She walked around to the front and sat sideways on his lap.
The bench was narrow. They were pressed together.
"Different approach," she said.
"What approach."
"I play. You listen."
She took his right hand and put it on her waist, then reached out herself and pressed the keys, playing a short passage.
Shen Yan's hand stayed on her waist, not daring to move.
"Why is your hand so stiff."
"...You told me not to move."
"I'm not telling you now."
His hand slid up a little.
She kept playing. The music stayed steady.
His hand slid up a little more and found her tit.
The music stumbled on one note.
"Shen Yan."
"Mm."
"You hit a wrong key."
"I didn't touch the piano."
She laughed.
*
She turned to face him, straddling his lap.
"You're very quiet today," she said.
"I don't know what to say."
"Then don't say anything."
She bent and kissed him.
She kissed slowly, softly. Shen Yan's hand went into her hair, and she bit him lightly.
"Don't rush."
"I'm not."
"You're poking me."
Shen Yan's face burned.
She laughed once and reached down.
She pressed her palm flat against him through his trousers and held it there, not moving.
"You're like this every time," she said. "One touch and you're hard."
"Su Wan—"
"Mm."
She undid his trousers and put her hand inside.
When she closed her hand around his cock, Shen Yan locked up.
"No mouth today," she said.
"Why."
"Because today I'm teaching you."
She held him and stroked slowly up from the base, her thumb circling the head once.
Shen Yan tipped his head back.
As she worked him she kept her face lowered, as though she were watching him — though she couldn't see.
"You're breathing loud."
"Mm."
"I like hearing it."
*
She stood, hiked up her skirt, pulled her underwear down to her knees, and sat back on his lap.
She reached down, took hold of him, pressed him against herself, and rubbed slowly.
When the head of his cock pushed at the slit, Shen Yan sucked in a breath.
"Su Wan."
"Mm."
"Don't—"
"Don't what."
She sank down a little.
Her pussy was hot and slick, swallowing him a bit at a time.
Then she stopped.
"Try moving," she said.
Shen Yan didn't dare.
"Be good," she said. "Today you do what I say."
She started moving herself.
The bench was narrow; every thrust nudged it forward. Her knees knocked against the piano body with a dull thud.
He reached around and held her waist, his face buried in her chest.
"Su Wan."
"Mm."
"You teach well."
She laughed, and her chest shook with it.
"Shut up."
*
That piano was never finished.
Later he asked her what she'd been playing that day.
"Just whatever," she said.
"Liar."
"Really," she said. "I wasn't thinking about the piano that day at all."
*
Four · Listen
One time she brought out a silk scarf.
"Put it on."
Shen Yan looked at her.
"What?"
"I said cover your eyes," she said. "You're always watching me do things. ...