enjoyebooks 033 still needs to be seen with one's own eyes.
033 still needs to be seen with one's own eyes.
After dinner, the sky outside the window had completely darkened.
"I'll do the dishes," Jiang Di volunteered, trying to cover up the embarrassment she felt at the dinner table by doing chores.
"Then I'll help too, the two of us can get it done faster." Song Zhiyi smiled and rolled up her sleeves.
"Me too..." Wang Zhe was about to stand up when Song Zhiyi pressed down on his shoulder.
Song Zhiyi pointed to the large leather sofa in the living room: "You're the chef, how can you expect the chef to wash the dishes? Go and rest, play on your phone for a while, and digest your food."
Wang Zhe didn't stand on ceremony. He said "okay" and went straight to the sofa, sinking into the soft leather backrest. He took out his phone and started checking today's closing data and financial news.
In the kitchen, the sound of running water was deafening.
Jiang Di was in charge of applying dish soap and scrubbing, while Song Zhiyi was in charge of rinsing and drying. The two girls stood side by side in front of the kitchen counter, and although their movements were a little clumsy, they cooperated fairly well.
The dish soap foam piled up into white clouds on the porcelain bowl, and a faint lemon scent filled the air.
"Just now..." Song Zhiyi asked casually as she took the plate Jiang Di handed her, "Were you happy to be fed like that?"
Jiang Di's hand trembled, and she almost dropped the chopsticks in her hand.
She lowered her head, watching the bubbles bursting in the sink, and the blush that hadn't completely faded from her cheeks returned.
"There's no such thing as being happy or unhappy..." Jiang Di's voice was so soft it was like a mosquito's hum. "It just feels pretty sudden."
Song Zhiyi said meaningfully, "You seemed to be enjoying your meal quite a bit. I noticed you didn't resist at all; in fact, you seemed to be enjoying it, right?"
Jiang Di bit her lip, but finally nodded honestly: "Yes, a little."
The shame of being forcibly fed, mixed with the sweetness of being favored, did indeed leave her mind blank for a moment, as if her whole being melted into that action.
Song Zhiyi looked at the girl beside her with a smile and said, "It seems that we can invite Wang Zhe over more often in the future. Or, you might as well stop getting tutoring from me and just go to Wang Zhe's house to have him tutor you."
Upon hearing this, Jiang Di slowed down his movements, and his eyes dimmed for a moment.
"No. He's very busy."
"Busy? Busy with what?" Song Zhiyi raised an eyebrow. "Busy practicing driving? Or busy trading stocks?"
"I guess so. And..." Jiang Di thought of Wang Zhe's obsession with making money and his apparent lack of interest in romance, and felt a little uncertain. "And I feel like he doesn't want me to be too clingy with him."
Song Zhiyi put the plate of Qinggan into the sterilizer, turned around, leaned against the cabinet, and looked at Jiang Di thoughtfully.
"Since you know he's busy and you feel he's a bit distant, why don't you take the initiative?"
"Take the initiative?" Jiang Di was stunned, the dishcloth in her hand frozen in mid-air. "How do I take the initiative?"
"It means exactly what it says," Song Zhiyi coaxed patiently. "Look, even though you're boyfriend and girlfriend now, he completely controls the dynamics. When he says he'll discipline you, you obediently take the beating. When he says he'll feed you, you obediently open your mouth. You're like a passive doll. But relationships are a game between two people. If you don't take the initiative, how can you capture his heart?"
Jiang Di rubbed the foam off her hands somewhat awkwardly: "But... I'm a girl. Wouldn't it seem unladylike for a girl to be too forward?"
"Who says girls can't take the initiative?" Song Zhiyi chuckled, a subtle, complex emotion flashing in her eyes. "If you really like him, why bother with all those rules and regulations? Besides, can being reserved put food on the table?"
This series of rhetorical questions stumped Jiang Di.
She stared blankly at Song Zhiyi, as if meeting this gentle older sister for the first time. In her mind, Song Zhiyi had always been the image of a well-bred young lady and a well-behaved girl; she never expected her views on relationships to be so sharp.
"But..." Jiang Di hesitated for a long time before finally speaking the truth, "I don't know how to take the initiative. I've never been in a relationship before, I have no experience."
Although she used to hang out with delinquent youths and had seen plenty of hugging and kissing, when it came to her own situation, especially with a guy like Wang Zhe who was so sophisticated and unpredictable, she was completely clueless.
Seeing her bewildered and helpless expression, Song Zhiyi's smile deepened.
"Well, there's nothing I can do. I have no experience with this either."
"Huh?" Jiang Di was dumbfounded. "But what you were saying just now made perfect sense..."
"You have a lot of theoretical knowledge," Song Zhiyi winked playfully. "Aren't there all sorts of romance stories in books and movies? Anyway, you'll just have to figure it out yourself. You have to create your own opportunities."
After washing the dishes, I tidied up the kitchen.
Jiang Di returned to the study and stuffed all the test papers and study materials scattered on the table into his schoolbag.
"I'm leaving now." She slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked into the living room.
Upon hearing this, Wang Zhe also stood up from the sofa, put away his phone, and said, "Let's go, I'll take you home."
Song Zhiyi stood in the entryway, smiling at the two of them: "Xiao Di, remember to go back and review what we learned today. We'll test you tomorrow."
"Okay, Sister Song!" Jiang Di waved, changed her shoes, and followed Wang Zhe out the door.
The security door clicked shut.
The footsteps in the hallway gradually faded into the distance until they disappeared.
The room returned to silence, with only the faint hum of the air conditioner vents.
Song Zhiyi did not immediately return to her room to rest, but instead turned around and went into the study.
A faint scent of hormones lingered in the study, proof that Wang Zhe had just stayed there.
Song Zhiyi walked to the desk, but did not sit down. Instead, she reached out and gently stroked the mahogany tabletop with her fingertips.
Her finger stopped at the edge of the table, where Jiang Di had been lying face down as punishment. Since there was no bed in the study, the only option for spanking was to make someone lie face down on the table.
Although more than an hour had passed, Song Zhiyi could still feel the lingering warmth there, hear the sound of the belt tearing through the air, and hear the girl's suppressed, tearful groans.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
The air seemed to still be filled with that scent that was a mixture of shame, pain, and secret pleasure.
After a long while, she opened her eyes, pulled open the drawer, and took out the exquisite little notebook and pen that she always carried with her.
Turning to the latest page, there was already a poem written there, without any beginning or end:
The flames trembled, and the tide cascaded into the waterfall.
At this moment, Song Zhiyi's hand holding the pen trembled slightly as she kept replaying the sounds she had heard through the door that afternoon, as well as the scene of Wang Zhe feeding Jiang Di at the dining table.
She tried to imagine the scene behind the door: how Wang Zhe swung the belt, how Jiang Di trembled as she endured it, how their eyes met...
However, imagination is ultimately pale.
It's like scratching an itch through a boot; the more you think about it, the emptier you feel inside. That desire to uncover the truth grows wildly like weeds.
The pen tip traced across the paper, leaving two new lines of writing:
Separated by a door of lies, the untouchable pain echoes.
After writing these two sentences, the pen stopped again.
No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't write the rest. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, clearly seeing the abyss below and the starlight within, but unable to climb down.
"Tsk."
Song Zhiyi threw her pen on the table in frustration.
She looked at the few incomplete lines of poetry in the notebook and murmured to herself, "Just listening isn't enough..."
While the hazy feeling of being separated by a door was stimulating, it lacked the core visual impact. She needed to see the expressions, the movements, and the most genuine tension between dominance and submission.
The girl's voice echoed in the empty study, carrying a hint of morbid obsession.
"Next time, it's best to see it with your own eyes."
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.