A Straight Wife Fallen from the Sky - Chapter 19

The essay section offered a choice between two prompts. One could choose either an argumentative essay or a narrative essay.

After staring at the argumentative prompt for a long time, Sang Zhancheng gave up on it and chose the narrative.

In truth, this wasn’t a particularly good choice.

With an argumentative essay, as long as you analyze the thesis well and stay on topic, you can secure a base score of forty-five points. If your handwriting is a bit better—even without being brilliant—you can easily reach forty-seven or forty-eight.

A narrative essay’s score, however, is heavily dependent on the quality of the writing, and it often fluctuates based on the teacher’s mood.

Unfortunately, the piece Sang Zhancheng produced was one that any teacher would grade below a thirty-eight.

First, the handwriting was quite messy; comparing it to the handwriting on her subjective questions made it clear she was rushing. Second, it was written like a tedious ledger, merely recording a single day of her mother taking care of the family. It failed to deepen its central theme and didn’t reflect the level expected of a high school student.

Mu Jiahui did a final calculation and found that Sang Zhancheng had only scored sixty-some points in Chinese. It was no wonder she had only scored two hundred-some points in the actual College Entrance Examination (Gaokao); this score was perfectly consistent with that level.

Yet, Sang Zhancheng actually thought she had written a good essay.

Looking at Mu Jiahui’s furrowed brows, she felt a slight pang of guilt.

She veered off-topic every single time she wrote an argumentative essay—the only time she had stayed on point was likely during the Gaokao itself. Surely, she couldn’t have gone off-topic on a narrative too?

“Mumu… are you done looking?” Sang Zhancheng leaned closer to Mu Jiahui’s side, only to see a massive “38” written there.

She fell into silence as well.

“Is it really that bad?” The little succubus’s eyes welled with tears as she looked piteously at Mu Jiahui.

Mu Jiahui didn’t say anything harsh. She simply patted the girl’s head, her eyes filled with a sense of pity—though it was unclear whether she was mourning for someone or pitying someone else.

“Finish the rest of the sections first, then I’ll explain it to you. We’ll take it slow; we still have a whole year,” Mu Jiahui said, encouraging herself.

Sang Zhancheng thought Mu Jiahui was comforting her. Her tears of sadness instantly transformed into tears of gratitude, falling onto the chair with a “patter.”

“Mumu, you really are a good person.”

“Don’t be sad,” they both said in unison.

Only then did Mu Jiahui realize she had misinterpreted the situation. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Cake and milk tea~” The pain of failing the essay was instantly tossed to the back of her mind. Sang Zhancheng blinked her bright, round almond eyes, claiming her reward from Mu Jiahui.

“Fine, fine, fine. You eat first.” A promise made to a child had to be kept.

Mu Jiahui handed the dessert to Sang Zhancheng and began using her test paper to list the areas that needed improvement.

Chinese was unlike other subjects; it didn’t require retaking the entire curriculum from scratch during a gap year. Attending classes improved one’s overall literary literacy, but a crash course couldn’t fix that—and judging by Sang Zhancheng’s grades, she didn’t need it anyway.

The priority was to start with the areas where points were easy to gain, relying on practice and summarizing patterns to boost the score.

Fortunately, thanks to the thermal bag, the two desserts hadn’t spoiled.

Sang Zhancheng happily took a bite of the cake and a sip of the pearls. Her mind and body, which had been tormented by questions all morning, were finally healed.

“Mumu, do you want some?” Sang Zhancheng wasn’t like a certain heartless devil who lacked emotional intelligence.

She poked Mu Jiahui’s arm and pushed the cake toward her.

“No, I’m still busy. Hurry up and finish eating so you can do the English section. Don’t dawdle.”

Mu Jiahui had forgotten the most important thing: the kiss.

Sang Zhancheng had forgotten it, too.

She gave an “oh” and looked disappointed on the surface, but inwardly, she was delighted to have the entire cake to herself.

By the time she finished the cake, her magic power had depleted by more than half, and she felt a wave of fatigue. Only then did she remember she still needed to kiss Mu Jiahui.

“Mumu, you owe me a kiss.” It truly had been a happy half-hour: good food to eat, a beauty to look at, and no worries about studying.

“…Tch.” Mu Jiahui clicked her tongue almost instinctively.

More than once, she marveled at the bizarre physiological structure of a succubus. She pulled Sang Zhancheng over, ignoring the fact that she had just eaten cake, and pressed her lips against the girl’s rosy mouth.

It was a bit domineering.

Sang Zhancheng didn’t realize Mu Jiahui was trying to get it over with quickly, but she loved the feeling.

It wasn’t exactly that she was being forced, but by yielding the active role to her incredibly charismatic partner, her inner joy increased tenfold.

She only needed to follow and enjoy.

Sang Zhancheng adjusted her posture, sitting comfortably on Mu Jiahui’s lap and wrapping her arms around her neck, savoring the influx of magic and the chestnut-flavored kiss.

The moment she sat on Mu Jiahui’s lap, Mu Jiahui had wanted to push her away.

Mu Jiahui’s physical instinct for self-defense was very strong, but at this moment, her mind was occupied by the soft sensation in her mouth and the sweet, refreshing flavor. Her logic loosened, and she failed to push the restless succubus off in time.

Besides, if she pushed her away now, the posture would become very awkward.

Mu Jiahui unconsciously closed her eyes, trying not to think about the young girl who had torn through her personal space. She tried to brush away the hazy pink mist in her mind, treating this intimate act as a mere task.

But she was human, after all, and she was facing a young and beautiful succubus.

Realizing she was beginning to sink into it, she pinched her own waist, forcing herself to break out of this unsafe state and pushing Sang Zhancheng away.

The abruptly rejected Sang Zhancheng: ?

It hadn’t even been ten minutes before the kiss ended again. Sang Zhancheng was so angry she wanted to stomp her feet.

Was she some kind of fake succubus? How could she not even last half an hour!

With tears in her eyes and remembering she had one more chance, she recklessly bit down on Mu Jiahui’s lip.

“Hiss—!” The last time Mu Jiahui had seen Sang Zhancheng like this was when her magic power was completely exhausted.

The sensation of a human being suppressed by a demon rose clearly, only to be swept away in the next second by a whirlpool of a hot kiss, washed away by pink waves.

The chair had wheels.

Mu Jiahui kept backing up as Sang Zhancheng pressed forward with a forceful stance. They were almost tearing at each other, though the strength was actually gentle.

Until she had Mu Jiahui pinned against the corner.

Mu Jiahui really wanted to push the person away violently. She even thought about biting the tongue that didn’t belong to her.

But suddenly, her face felt a splash of heat.

She opened her eyes and saw that the usually cheerful girl was crying.

Her body was trembling, and her curled eyelashes were clumped together, dripping with moisture. Tears as large as beans fell one by one onto Mu Jiahui’s face.

The purple eyes widened, and the emotions within them—sadness, dissatisfaction, loss, and a rare flash of anger—were stamped vividly into Mu Jiahui’s mind.

Mu Jiahui was stunned, her mind going blank.

Sang Zhancheng simply collapsed into her arms, held her tight, and continued to kiss her. It wasn’t for magic power anymore; it felt more like she was trying to prove herself.

A long time passed.

Sang Zhancheng pulled away from Mu Jiahui’s embrace and wiped her tears. Her emotions had finally returned to normal, and as if out of embarrassment turned to anger, she pinched Mu Jiahui’s waist.

“You’re so annoying, so mean!” But since she had been allowed to kiss for so long, she didn’t actually think Mu Jiahui was that detestable.

Mu Jiahui was speechless. She was the one who was forcibly kissed, then pinched, and then called annoying—how could this person be so unreasonable?

She wiped the corners of her mouth and the tears from her face, her expression calm as if nothing had just happened.

She had no intention of comforting Sang Zhancheng, but she didn’t argue either. “Don’t be so violent next time.”

What Mu Jiahui didn’t say was that she had been afraid.

“I know, I’m sorry. Should I keep doing the questions?” Having vented her emotions, Sang Zhancheng stretched and sat back in her original spot.

The feeling of being full of magic was different. She felt refreshed all over and felt as though she could cast several halos and charms.

“Hurry up. After English, you still have the Science and Arts comprehensive mocks. Which three majors did you choose for the Gaokao?”

As soon as Mu Jiahui asked, she felt it was a pointless question.

“Never mind. From now on, you’ll take the full Science track as your focus; it’ll make it easier to choose a major later.” And easier for her to teach.

The burden on Sang Zhancheng—who was equally bad at all six secondary subjects and possessed the typical succubus fear and resistance toward science—suddenly became much heavier.