Chapter 13

*Jealousy*
Zhu Yu woke to perfect sunlight.
She had not slept so well and woken naturally in a long time. Hangover ache still pulsed lightly; last night’s memory was scattered, broken pieces.
Familiar rose scent made her turn. Without thinking she nuzzled the soft quilt, letting sun gild the other side.
Wait—rose.
That was Bai Shuzhou’s scent.
Sleepiness vanished. Zhu Yu’s eyes flew open.
She lifted wrist and collar, sniffed—in disbelief—rose everywhere, clothes still unwashed and wrinkled.
Help—what happened…!
She should not have—could not have—done something offensive to Bai Shuzhou while drunk?!
Half-kneeling up, a ring tumbled from her chest.
Really from her chest—warmed by body heat.
She did like keeping treasures close for comfort—but before she could hide, a cool gaze fell.
She looked up. Pale blue eyes looked down coldly—they had seen everything.
Rings belonged on fingers.
Not tucked in your shirt.
This was Bai Shuzhou’s ring—one of the gifts Emperor Bai Qianze gave her at eighteen.
Through splitting headache Zhu Yu remembered the ice voice: “Take it. Sell it. Quit.”
So domineering.
She had poured water, vine-embrace, beautiful roses—pain eased the moment she came close… She was so good!
Zhu Yu scrambled for the ring and held it out. “Here—don’t worry. We’ll have money soon.”
The gem in her palm still carried the girl’s warmth. Bai Shuzhou’s gaze slid to her open collar, darkening. She crooked a finger.
The girl hesitated—as if to refuse something too precious—but when Bai Shuzhou’s eyes narrowed and air turned cold, she shuffled closer, helpless.
The stone hung on jade fingers. Bai Shuzhou’s wrist turned—and naturally pushed it down her collar.
She watched Zhu Yu’s reaction with cool arrogance: ears flushing red, trembling but not retreating—the gem caught between, blood-red on pale skin.
Ah—Zhu Yu bit her lip. First thought: her hand was so cold—colder than the stone.
Looking up like moonlight on a rainy day—those blue eyes usually misty and sad, now with a strange gleam.
This was the whitest place on Zhu Yu’s body—yet beside that flawless hand it looked lesser.
The small mole on Bai Shuzhou’s wrist was startling red—blood seeping from the pulse, condensing into a gem on Zhu Yu’s heart.
For a moment Zhu Yu could not tell what raced—her heartbeat or Bai Shuzhou’s pulse.
Almost without thought she covered that icy hand and pressed it to her chest, trying to melt ice with warmth.
No shame, no calculation, barely thinking—a furry creature in a snowfield, burning close.
Half-kneeling, what might have been humiliation felt like knighting.
No bargain—only a true heart offered.
Dragon blood ran cold—yet pink rose faintly at her wrist. Bai Shuzhou’s face stayed blank. She did not pull away. Low:
“Zhu Yu.”
“You—”
The syllables changed—same word, different bite—colder, magnetic, brushing her ear, raising goosebumps.
Zhu Yu held her breath.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Then teasing outside the door: “Smiling Angel Little Fish—open up. Senior’s here with warmth.”
Nan Gong leaned on the door, playing with a part, clearly hearing a shameful yelp like a puppy.
Zhu Yu, furious: “Wrong house!”
“Sure it is. Wasn’t it here last night?” Nan Gong knew exactly. “Smiling—”
Slam. Door flew open.
Zhu Yu clapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her in, murder in her eyes.
Being called that at work was bad enough—after work too—and in front of Bai Shuzhou the name felt obscene.
She least wanted her to know.
Back to Bai Shuzhou, Zhu Yu prayed with clasped hands.
High-EQ Nan Gong pretended not to notice and set things down. “Business from yesterday—how long to fix? Heard you’re sick—everyone cares. Xiao Fu sent hangover meds, Haibao’s shells, Little Haitang’s acupressure guide—you study massage?”
A big bag of gifts. Zhu Yu was well liked—fluffy coworkers even trusted a Federation person to deliver.
Zhu Yu panicked. “What research—don’t talk like that!”
Wine breath, flirt, lingering tones—Nan Gong had them all. Serious topics turned weird—as if an ancient massage manual were something indecent.
“Little Haitang is a name! Acupoints—the TCM kind! I just want better technique—more comfortable—” Zhu Yu tried to explain. The worse she did, the darker Bai Shuzhou’s face.
Zhu Yu nearly cried. “I only want to massage you—ease muscles—help you heal faster…!”
Only the wronged know how wronged they are.
Nan Gong crossed arms, amused. “Oh—massage—”
The gauze was half-drawn. Through the gap Nan Gong saw a sharp chin, thin lips, wind stirring pale blue eyes that flickered.
Nan Gong froze—smile stuck mid-arc.
She had never seen eyes that compelling—gem-like, glittering, cold seeping from bone gaps, no feeling at all.
Not imagination… What is this person?
Zhu Yu watched Nan Gong step closer, hand reaching for the curtain as if she lived here.
Zhu Yu shoved her out, dragged her away—suddenly understanding Bai Qianze: when the original proposed, she nearly got killed.
“Heh.” Nan Gong still smiled—less frivolous, grave and odd. “Who is she?”
Zhu Yu hissed: “My wife!”
Nan Gong raised a brow. “I don’t believe you.”
That line lit Zhu Yu up—fluffy with rage. “None of your business! Don’t look or I’ll hit you.”
“No wonder you work so hard.” Nan Gong’s smile turned meaningful.
Zhu Yu: “…”
Gritted teeth. “Why are you even here?”
All this way, big bag—to frame her? Did she set sights on her… ex-wife-to-be is still wife!
“I said—business. Check if you can fix the part. Take it and you can quit the bar.”
“Your family wouldn’t let you do that, would they?” Teasing threat.
Zhu Yu: “What ‘that’—first floor’s legal! Skill earns money—if not for last night—”
If she hadn’t played hero last night, a few drinks would be easy—room to help coworkers.
Kindness went both ways—they scraped bottom together, dreaming savings would change life.
Many coworkers did not even like cookies—but hearing Bai Shuzhou’s leg was hurt, they bought the expensive snacks anyway.
Little Haitang taught patient care; Haibao brought fish; Xiao Fu recommended a cheap hospital on a neighbor star—chatting that net friends swore by it…
“Paradis isn’t that simple.” Nan Gong flicked her forehead. “Don’t be so naive, kid.”
Zhu Yu hardened. “I know. I’ll fix your stuff.”
Nan Gong shrugged. “We’ll see.”
She left broken samples—and hid an old mech part in the junk.
Federation tech outpaced the empire by decades; on a junk planet without blueprints it looked impossible.
If Zhu Yu could even tell what it was and where it went—genius.
Nan Gong liked mining genius—good investment.
Three days passed. Zhu Yu worked as usual—no word.
Informants said she haunted scrap yards—Nan Gong wondered if she’d sold the goods. At Paradis Zhu Yu pretended not to know her—deep grudge.
Swap defective shell, charge repair—old trick.
Pure innocence was probably act too—Chaos Sector, not ivory tower.
Nan Gong sneered. Fine—she had skill.
Then Zhu Yu brought a simple model. Nan Gong went silent—she really could. Very could.
Not only fixed—improved—like a dying heart beating again, growing a person.
Half a person—too poor; torso was cardboard from who knew where.
The girl hid the little machine in her bag, wary. “I bought a lot to fix it—cost goes up—more money.”
Hearing that, Nan Gong felt better.
Who hand-builds from nothing? Federation declassified this five years ago. She smiled sweetly. “You bought core parts from White Horse? Her student? I guessed—we’re practically friends.”
White Horse fled a shut Federation lab—anti-humanity charges—hid here as repairer; half the smuggling guns passed her hands.
Small places ran on connections. Helan had introduced Zhu Yu to White Horse without Zhu Yu knowing—she thought the world was kind.
Zhu Yu: “I know you know her. White Horse billed parts and books to you—I’m raising labor fee.”
She would not eat material cost—if Nan Gong ran she’d lose.
Earning well—but feeding a dragon was expensive—and when would the useless guard corps show up?
Ah—expertise made you bold—calling the guard corps useless.
Nan Gong smiled kindly, agreed, pulled out her terminal. “Card number?”
Zhu Yu looked pained. “Cash.”
Nan Gong was pleased. “Oh—you’re wanted too?”
“Fine—but I don’t carry that much. Cash from downtown in a few days—and more parts tonight—look.”
Zhu Yu’s mouth twitched—Nan Gong sounded broke too, “downtown transfer”—so fake.
Nan Gong went straight to White Horse for the bill—White Horse was shocked at the finished work.
They reconciled accounts.
Zhu Yu bought cheap junk, lowest parts from several shops, basic repair books—
*Starship Structure and Flight Control Maintenance (9th ed.)*
*Repair Manual—Junior Engineer*
…Basics—one was Federation textbook.
White Horse said she smuggled extras—central systems and brain-machine interface—expensive even secondhand.
They forgot the bill—staring at each other: “She’s not yours??”
Treasure—more like haunted luck.
That night Nan Gong drove a cart of new parts and gifts—enthusiasm that made Zhu Yu’s skin crawl.
Zhu Yu: “No paying debt with goods!”
Nan Gong: “You’ve got nerve.” She swallowed the word she almost said.
Nan Gong smiled—Zhu Yu feared more—no favor without motive—was she after Bai Shuzhou?
Zhu Yu clawed her hair, shoved Nan Gong from the threshold, hissed: “She’s my wife!!”
Nan Gong: “Oh. And?”
Zhu Yu was shocked by her shameless calm.
Nan Gong laughed again. “Don’t you want a better life for her?”
Zhu Yu: …
Flash—Shan was right—Federation people had no morals!!
Zhu Yu glared—unaware Bai Shuzhou read her wariness as tender gazing.
Gauze, tin door—layers between—one window open—low voices intimate in the dark.
Zhu Yu threw a punch—tall woman caught it easy.
Knuckles white on the mirror. Bai Shuzhou leaned on pillows—fingertips still held daytime softness.
She understood Zhu Yu less and less.
Old Zhu Yu—shallow, vicious, bright provocative smile.
Now she still smiled but without edges—bullied, she only curled up.
Soft. Weak. Transparent.
Yet by day she had knelt and pressed Bai Shuzhou’s hand to her chest in submission…
Or was she like this with everyone?
Cracks appeared on the mirror’s edge. Bai Shuzhou’s eyes went fully dark.