Chapter 14

*Rival*
Bai Shuzhou was always muted, always melancholy.
Zhu Yu had thought so.
Home on stomach-leave, she found the princess’s life was rich.
Mostly reading—no taboo—from astronomy to rice secrets, even children’s books read with care.
She liked tapping favorite lines with her finger—as if touching fiction through rustling paper. Blue eyes reflected light words; melancholy and chill softened to a thin moon at her lips.
High clear light descended to earth. Zhu Yu propped her chin, stole glances, game volume low—lively yet lonely background.
When Zhu Yu worked, Bai Shuzhou had cleared the levels. Heming said Fairy Sis was amazing at games—unlike so-and-so—so-and-so being Zhu Yu, face saved.
Games were plain paper to Bai Shuzhou—one glance to break them; at death’s door she could turn the fight. Heming nearly worshipped her; friends brought impossible stages for help.
Her mind stood high—hook a finger, nine linked rings undone—fast, precise, forever elegant, forever at ease.
Zhu Yu was trash at games—chatter like Heming—proud GAME OVER and animal noises—“my mistake”—reload again and again.
One of two adults in this happy shack—yet she had barely played with Bai Shuzhou.
Kids walked two hours across the district for Fairy Sis—so-called tutoring—parentheses: post-homework chill.
Zhu Yu hated those brats. When both were home she felt out of place—her home, yet she was the extra outsider.
Children clung to Bai Shuzhou—especially in cub beast form. When mood was good she combed fur.
Then Zhu Yu learned—Bai Shuzhou could smile.
Not mockery or cold curl—real, faint joy. Gentle distance for all—except Zhu Yu.
Hating the moon that will not shine on me—how could you bear to—
Zhu Yu loved watching her smile—even when not for her.
When you gaze at the moon, how dare you hope to hold it?
She only wanted to put it back in the sky.
Zhu Yu spent heavily on Nan Gong’s wheelchair—eighteen thousand after markup—Federation tech shocking; anti-gravity let Bai Shuzhou get on and off alone.
No excuse left to carry her.
Each massage Bai Shuzhou bit her lip—spine a tight line—no extra sound.
After, wet eyes, brows folded like ink landscape strokes Zhu Yu could not read.
Bai Shuzhou seemed to hate her more—would not even say “get lost.”
Now “get lost” was a crooked finger—flick—
Zhu Yu bounced away obediently.
Bai Shuzhou liked the new gesture—though Zhu Yu took “roll” so seriously she missed the slight smile.
Heming noticed, watched with relish, queued after Zhu Yu flew out, hand up: “Fairy Sis me too me too!”
Bai Shuzhou stopped smiling, cold dignity: “Homework done? Two more chapters?”
Heming fled.
Zhu Yu pretended calm—turned to scream in secret—secret pain—secret work… that part didn’t need hiding.
The forced ring became a necklace inside her shirt, warmed by skin.
Birthday gift—too precious to sell.
Deep night by the night lamp she tried it on—Bai Shuzhou’s fingers so slim—same knuckle stuck—had to use another finger.
In the dark the stone’s fire danced. Zhu Yu admired—gauze swayed—a soft cough behind—
Face red, she covered her hand, turned fast.
Bai Shuzhou eyes closed—seemed asleep, breath even—schedule like clockwork.
Lashes shadowed soft under light—never tired of looking.
Zhu Yu imagined a fairy tale world under those lashes.
Thief-hearted, she tucked the quilt, lay down soft, dimmed the lamp.
After Zhu Yu slept, the jade Guanyin on the bed opened her eyes, studied her, vines silent to the ring—small tricks.
Morning—ring would not come off.
Huge blood gem glittered. Soap bubbles—no use. Facing Bai Shuzhou she hid one hand behind, spine straight—almost convincing.
Mercy—the stone was so big it looked fake; everyone agreed it was colored glass.
Nan Gong mocked her taste—vintage shop would be better—once “ethereal,” now lottery winner.
Standing in Paradis like a beggar with a gold bowl—fewer call-ins.
Zhu Yu would not talk to her.
Twelve parts wary of the Bai Shuzhou-thief. Zhu Yu never gossiped—except when fluffy colleagues praised Nan Gong: “What’s pretty about her! Is she?!”
A question.
Nan Gong drifted past—red lips, hair flip, wink—long legs stepped over Zhu Yu’s pride—screams.
Nan Gong’s body was superb—Zhu Yu looked thin beside her—arm lines perfect—sleeves rolled high when mixing drinks.
Thin callus on tiger and knuckles—strong fingers—veins on the tray—sharp eyes hunting prey.
Zhu Yu wanted to scream too—from anger.
Haibao whispered—close to Nan Gong? Contact please—cross-species forbidden love—
Zhu Yu: “Don’t know her.”
Nan Gong leaned to Haibao, red hair falling, low magnetic smile: “No need private. Now works.”
Haibao the jellyfish went pink and melted down.
“Pull yourself together!!!” Zhu Yu caught her—Nan Gong’s pleased laugh at her side.
Nan Gong hovered—new parts, why not quit—monopolized Zhu Yu’s regulars.
No one refused Nan Gong’s charm—market bigger than imagined.
No calls, no sales—manager asked when Zhu Yu would quit—high talent repair, wrong place here.
Worst—when Zhu Yu stayed home to repair, Nan Gong “visited.” Kids loved her too.
She gamed well—matched Bai Shuzhou move for move.
Silver hair cold in wheelchair—Nan Gong bent, red hair like fire on her shoulder—silent duel—beautiful tension.
Very photogenic.
Heming poked Zhu Yu: “Don’t they look perfect?”
Zhu Yu exploded: “Kid—homework—I’m confiscating your console!!!”
She wanted the original’s soul—come back—jealousy tricks—drive off the red-haired pest!
Or Bai Qianze—save the princess—strangle the Fed who eyes your sister!!
Does Bai Shuzhou like bad women?
Tower princesses get fooled easy.
Nan Gong and the original were the same species… At the factory Zhu Yu felt dizzy—strange mood—a wilted rabbit bouncing in her stomach.
She copied Nan Gong—hair flip, wink at Shan—clumsy.
Shan removed headphones, worried: “Overwork? Eyes cramping?”
Zhu Yu—defeated.
Head down—wanted to be a sad nutrient cake—strawberry flavor.
Bai Shuzhou loved strawberry.
“…”
She was doomed!
No—someone else doomed—Nan Gong might replace the original—seduce the princess—palace—true face—whipped!
No.
Why should the princess hurt! They can’t—she hadn’t signed the divorce papers!
Ah—after return to palace—sign divorce confirmation.
Zhu Yu was crushed.
She knew Bai Shuzhou used the kids to reach outside—home was not here but the golden palace—brightest starlight—one gesture and the world arranged itself.
Zhu Yu could not help—never only waited.
That coming day—hope and fear.
Hope for glory restored—no money worry—proper treatment—that was her road.
Fear of being killed.
Dragons rare—two in the world. Bai Shuzhou stolen and hurt—Bai Qianze would not spare her.
In the novel “Zhu Yu” lived longer on a child—then tried to steal the daughter as hostage for safety.
Her daughter too—how evil—scum deserved death!
If that were my daughter I would—!
Fantasy again—Zhu Yu despised herself.
She swore respect for Bai Shuzhou’s will—no improper thoughts—if broken may the—may the—weather be nice.
Daydreams useless—they were not one world. Bai Shuzhou’s future bright—hers? If not killed after healing—maybe a repair shop like White Horse—small dream.
White Horse said talent; Nan Gong’s parts paid tens of thousands—still learning—unstable now—better later.
Golden Wrench Award—future bright!
Thinking that, blood hot—Golden Wrench top honor—rich prize—maybe military or royal contracts—
Excited—a Paradis uniform button popped—nearly in a wine glass.
Uniform fabric cheap—buttons flew often—colleagues laughed, hand on heart when neckline opened—buttons lucky for smuggler guests—tips.
Zhu Yu did not get the logic—but rich sisters’ eyes lit, slid to her work vest underneath.
Covered tight.
Sister took the button—still tipped—mood sour—Nan Gong laughed pleased.
Zhu Yu cursed Nan Gong inwardly—then Nan Gong offered to sew—silver needle, white thread, breaths done—bit the thread with teeth—fans screamed.
Actually kind—if less performative.
That night Nan Gong’s soft squeeze sent Zhu Yu home early.
She did not brood long—hung uniform, hands together before the gauze, bowed solemn.
“Don’t hate me—don’t hate me—like me please.”
Tiny chant like a spell.
No magic—real night came after she slept—stars swaying.
A long hand lifted gauze—brows knit—alert sniff—scent not hers.
Vines coiled Zhu Yu twice, climbed the rack, hooked her uniform.
After a while cold eyes narrowed—jade finger flicked—vine twisted the second button—instant dust—monitor inside pulverized, falling.
Provocation?
Now she could confirm Nan Gong’s identity.
Damned Federation spy.
What exactly was she to Zhu Yu?