A Straight Wife Fallen from the Sky - Chapter 34

Mu Jiahui, who felt that she was “ill,” still did not slacken in the slightest.

During the days she spent accompanying Sang Zhancheng in her studies, she rapidly completed the organization and summarization of knowledge points for unfamiliar subjects, perfected her resume, and submitted it to a company that allowed remote work.

As long as she stayed busy and didn’t stare blankly at Sang Zhancheng, she was invincible.

Sang Zhancheng, who had been stared at inexplicably many times by her partner: ?

Mumu keeps staring at me every day; Mumu must have started to like me.

In this regard, the little succubus was somewhat narcissistic.

After being stared at by Mu Jiahui for another half hour, Sang Zhancheng wagged her tail and immediately spaced out, beginning to daydream about their future happy life together, entering a half-asleep, half-awake fairyland.

In the fairyland, there were many peaches.

Sang Zhancheng ate the peaches in large gulps and began to dream of certain plotlines that were highly inconsistent with Mu Jiahui’s persona.

For example, being pinned down on the bedroom rug, or the two of them entering the bathroom together…

And while her consciousness was asleep, her hands did not stop.

In her lucid dream, a physics problem or two would occasionally appear, seemingly assigned by the dream-version of Mu Jiahui during their flirtation; Sang Zhancheng gritted her teeth and actually finished solving them.

That was, until she was tapped on the back of the head by Mu Jiahui.

“Sleepy again?” Mu Jiahui looked at Sang Zhancheng’s drowsy appearance and checked the time.

Sang Zhancheng had already taken a nap today; there was no reason for her to be sleepy.

It must be because she slept for too long.

Next time, I can only give her fifteen minutes; half an hour is too long.

“Ah!” Sang Zhancheng was having a great time in her dream when she was suddenly tapped awake. Her tail curled around as she saw Mu Jiahui and instinctively wanted to cling to her.

Mu Jiahui pressed her back into her seat. “Today’s problems aren’t finished yet. No kisses.”

Having lived together for only a week, Mu Jiahui had already completely mastered Sang Zhancheng’s habits.

With just one expression, Mu Jiahui knew what she wanted to do.

For instance, right now, her tail was cocked upward and had turned pink, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were startlingly bright—it was the “I want to kiss” expression.

Hearing the familiar, cold tone, Sang Zhancheng fully woke up.

She puffed out her lips, suppressing her racing heart, and then caught sight of the “earthworm script” on her test paper.

That glob of twisted handwriting had absolutely nothing to do with standard square characters; instead, it looked like a relative of cursive script.

The only difference was that while cursive is called “dragons flying and phoenixes dancing,” Sang Zhancheng’s writing was more like “snakes crawling and chickens flying.”

They shared only one commonality: no one could read them.

Sang Zhancheng instinctively covered the mess.

Mu Jiahui thought she was drawing and snatched the paper away.

Seeing the strangely familiar handwriting, Mu Jiahui actually felt a hint of nostalgia for a moment.

This was the evidence of a student persevering in a state of extreme exhaustion.

No matter how tired or sleepy, they do not give up on learning, they do not simply crash and sleep; they insist on writing problems and, relying on sheer willpower, create this specific font.

Mu Jiahui was quite moved.

Truth be told, she had written like this before too.

During the most grueling period of her senior year in high school, she had suffered from insomnia one day and simply got up to memorize books and write problems.

The next day, listening to the chemistry teacher—a deputy director whose tone was utterly monotonous—Mu Jiahui naturally almost fell asleep.

But she knew she couldn’t sleep. Once she fell asleep, at least five minutes would be gone, and she would miss the explanation of an entire problem.

She simply stood up and went to the back of the classroom.

Their class had a rule: if you were sleepy during a lesson, you could stand at the back to listen.

But even that was useless. Whether it was mints, cold water, or standing, nothing could save her from the fatigue brought on by two hours of poor-quality sleep.

Yet Mu Jiahui was unwilling to close her eyes. So, she picked up her pen and took notes while solving problems in a dream-like state.

On that day, Mu Jiahui’s notebook was covered in “earthworm script” that looked like it had crawled out of hell.

Every single such character manifested her stubborn spirit of never giving up.

Sang Zhancheng was a bit nervous. She thought she would definitely be scolded.

She had spaced out again, even after having just taken a nap.

Unexpectedly, Mu Jiahui only patted her head.

“Next time you’re sleepy, you can rest for five minutes.” Mu Jiahui thought she understood how Sang Zhancheng felt.

She was very gratified, believing the child had finally developed internal motivation and the spirit to study even when exhausted.

It was lucky she didn’t know what kind of “erotic trash” had been filling Sang Zhancheng’s mind just now.

If there was a break time available and she didn’t use it, she would be a fool. Sang Zhancheng immediately stood up and went to the side to grab her phone.

Sang Zhancheng’s friends had all noticed that she had been missing in action lately.

Even though it was the most relaxed summer break, the usually most active little succubus was always offline.

The friends who understood succubi all thought of one thing: Daytime debauchery.

They sent messages to Sang Zhancheng one after another, gossiping about her love life.

Seeing this, Sang Zhancheng felt a surge of sorrow, both angry and speechless.

They had been “partnered” for over a week, and she was still a “virgin who hadn’t experienced anything.” Was this reasonable?

She had no choice but to cry to her friends about her miserable life as a repeating student.

Mu Li: You’re really going to retake the exam next year?

Song Jiaoyu: You’re really, really going to repeat a year?

Grief and indignation combined, Sang Zhancheng typed furiously.

Yes, boohoo. My partner is so scary. She really forces me to study. If I don’t study, she won’t give me ‘mana replenishment’.

But she’s such a good teacher. I can actually understand math, physics, and chemistry now, and I’ve memorized a lot of biology.

Seeing these science subjects, her friends were even more shocked.

Everyone knew that the “floor” for liberal arts was higher; they thought Sang Zhancheng’s goal should be a third-tier university, and at the very least, she should have chosen the three liberal arts subjects where you could get base points just by memorizing.

They hadn’t expected her to be dragged into choosing the full science track by her partner.

At the same time, Sang Zhancheng’s family finally got in touch with her.

Sang’s mother asked if she wanted food delivered, and Sang Zhancheng happily agreed.

Mu Jiahui had been cooking these past few days. Although the taste wasn’t bad, it was still a bit inferior to her mother’s cooking.

“Six minutes have passed, Sang Zhancheng. Break time is over.”

The little succubus was just feeling happy when Mu Jiahui’s sentence shattered her joyful, pink-peach-heart tail.

“Fine… Mumu, my mom is coming to deliver dinner tonight~” Sang Zhancheng obediently handed her phone over to her partner.

“Ah, then tell your aunt to make a little less. I have some ingredients that are about to expire.” To save money, what Mu Jiahui bought were all promotional ingredients.

Anyway, they were just about to expire and hadn’t gone bad yet; they were cheap, so why not?

“I’ll tell her then. It doesn’t matter if they expire, right? We can just throw them away,” Sang Zhancheng said, taking the phone back.

“No!” Mu Jiahui’s attitude was firm.

“We cannot waste.” She would rather stuff herself until she was bloated, then exercise, then stuff herself again to consume all the ingredients, rather than throw them away.

Mumu is always very persistent in this regard.

Sang Zhancheng didn’t quite understand. For the sake of health, her family almost never ate leftovers.

Anything made in excess was always thrown out; they didn’t have the habit of keeping food until the next day.

According to Sang Zhancheng’s observations, Mu Jiahui wouldn’t give her leftovers either; she would just silently mix them with rice and eat them herself.

Sang Zhancheng had actually thought Mu Jiahui liked eating leftover rice and dishes.

After all, the flavors soaked in; she had the fortune of trying one bite, and the taste was indeed very good.

“Tomorrow is the weekend, Mumu. I haven’t been out in so long. Can we go out to play?” Sang Zhancheng negotiated with Mu Jiahui while sending her messages.