ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ..|

ʟɪáɴʀéɴ (China, slight JE?)

ₘ!Cₕᵢₙₐ ₓ F!ᵣₑₐdₑᵣ
No beta
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Warnings: non-con, physical and psychological abuse, implied misogyny,  objectification, gaslighting

The morning sun streamed through the windows of the kitchen, casting warm light onto the counters where you stood, sleeves rolled up, and focused on the task at hand. Your hands moved with precision as you sliced vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the blade against the cutting board filling the room.

You had been quiet all morning, your simmering irritation at China still unresolved. Your husband, oblivious as ever to the full depth of your annoyance, decided to poke the bear.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” China’s voice came, teasing and light.

You didn’t respond, your focus remaining on the vegetables. The soft scrape of your knife against the cutting board continued as if you hadn’t heard him. China leaned casually against the kitchen doorway, a playful smile on his face as he watched your work.

“Are you not going to bid me goodbye before I leave?” he teased, his voice carrying that familiar charm.

Still, you said nothing, your knife continuing its steady rhythm. He pouted audibly, the sound almost childlike, stepping into the kitchen. “Come now, Liánrén. You wouldn’t want your husband to leave feeling neglected, would you?” His tone was light, almost sing-song, as he approached you.

When you still didn’t respond, he pouted and moved closer, his arms sliding around your waist from behind. He rested his chin lightly on your shoulder, his voice soft and coaxing. “Don’t be mad. You know I can’t leave without your blessing.”

Your movements froze for a moment, the familiar warmth and the smell of his opium indulge your senses, you grip the knife more as you shrugged him off, pushing him away with surprising force. He stumbled back a step, his smile faltering— only for his eyes to widen as you spun around, the knife now pointed directly at his face.

“Away,” You warned, your voice low but steady, your glare sharp enough to rival the blade. "I'm still mad at you."

China raised his hands slowly, his smile shifting into an awkward chuckle. “Alright, alright,” he said, taking a cautious step back.

The tension was interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and Japan’s voice rang out from the doorway.

“Brother, we need to leave soon. You’re—” Japan stopped mid-sentence, his sharp eyes taking in the scene before him: China standing sheepishly with his hands raised, his wife holding a knife, your expression unyielding. “Huh…” Japan muttered with one eyebrow raised.

You turned back to your cutting board, ignoring Japan entirely as you resumed your task. The sound of the knife against the board was the only response you gave, though your movements were a little more forceful than before.

You could feel his gaze on you, hopeful and hesitant, as if waiting for you to say something. But your focus remained on the task at hand, even as his soft sigh betrayed his lingering guilt.

Satisfied with the knot, you picked up another small container from the counter, its contents neatly prepared and carefully arranged. You turned, facing both men now and held the container out to Japan.

His sharp eyes widened briefly, betraying his surprise before he quickly masked it with a smirk. “For me?” he asked, his tone laced with mock curiosity. He accepted the container, his movements precise but cautious as if testing the waters. “How thoughtful. I didn’t realize I’d earned such kindness.”