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COVER UP 董月兰 ― DONG YUELAN
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AT THE AGE OF 22, Dong Yuelan couldn't quite understand why she was still living with her younger brother.
"Yue," Sicheng groans, "it's your turn to wash the dishes."
Monday night dinners with the Dong siblings is a weekly thing. Actually, every night that Sicheng and Yuelan happen to be home at the same time constitutes a dinner spent together — mostly because the extent of Yuelan's cooking skills involve cup ramen and rice in a rice cooker.
Yuelan, who has taken her place on the couch with a nail file and bright red nail polish, looks up in his direction.
"No it's not."
Sicheng raises a brow.
"Yes. It is," he says. "I cook, you clean."
"Or," she pauses. "How about you cook, you clean, and I finish painting my nails?"
She holds up her left hand, where three of her five fingers are unpainted. Sicheng can't help but think that her nails look like talons.
"Ha ha, very funny Yuelan," he says, drying his hands on a towel before walking out of the kitchen.
"Oh," she mocks. "The full name. How scary!"
"You better finish quickly," he tells her, ignoring her childish jab. "I have the night off, and my friends are coming over."
"Wait," she jolts upright, almost spilling the polish onto the couch. "Your friends? Coming over? Here?"
He stares at her as if she is dumb. "That's what I said, isn't it?"
"Is one of them the hot one?" Yuelan groans miserably, capping her nail polish. "You know I hate it when it's the hot one."
"Yue, you think all my friends are hot."
She crinkles her nose. "Ugh, Doyoung isn't."
"Doyoung isn't coming," Sicheng rolls his eyes.
"Just wash them, okay?"
And then he's stalking towards his room before she has the chance to protest again.
A few moments later, Yuelan decides she might as well get to washing the dishes, and with a groan, she hoists herself up from the couch, sliding her feet into her slippers as she went.
"Washing the pots, washing the dishes," Yuelan sings, rolling up her sleeves as she turns the tap on.
"First, you scrub," she hums.
Yuelan picks up the sponge and wets it, and then pumps soap onto it. She then proceeds to pick up the pot that Sicheng had used to make rice, rinses it, and then scrubs.
"Then, you rinse."
She puts the sponge down and runs the pot under the scalding water, watching as soapy suds flowed out and down the drain.
"And then... you repeat!"
She grins, setting the pot down on the drying rack before moving on to the rest of the dishes.
The process continues, with Yuelan singing as she washes the dishes, until she's finally down to the last plate.
She is so distracted with washing the plate and finally being done with the dishes that Yuelan doesn't notice the front door opening, or the figure who walks through it.
"Sicheng, I told you to stop leaving your—"
The voice, male and deep, calls out, startling Yuelan, and just as he rounds the corner into the kitchen, she drops the plate in surprise. It lands next to her feet, shattering into a million pieces.
"—oh!" He exclaims, his eyes widening in shock as he notices the broken porcelain.
It barely registers in Yuelan's mind that this is Lee Taeyong, the hottest of hot and one of Sicheng's friends, and she almost faints when she sees him standing there.
"How did you get in here?" She demands, trying to calm her racing heart.
"Uh..." Taeyong stutters. "Sicheng left his keys at my house."
He holds up said keys.
"Oh," Yuelan says. "Well. That makes sense."
"Hey..." He trails off. "Are you okay?"
His eyes are on her bare feet, and there's a strange look in his gaze. "Your foot is uh... it's kind of bleeding..."
"What...?"
Her eyes widen in horror, and she slowly looks down to see that a shard of the broken plate has cut her toe, and blood is oozing out of the gash it has formed.
And then, in typical Yuelan style, she promptly faints.
