After the Bankrupt Heiress Married into a Rich Family - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Aching All Over

 

Rong Zhao walked to the bedside while putting on her watch: “Does it hurt that much?”

 

Monday morning, Mingzhu woke up in pain.

 

Yesterday, when she was horseback riding, she hadn’t just thrown her worries to the wind—she’d tossed her common sense away with them. Rong Zhao had warned her twice: “The horse needs a break even if the person doesn’t” and “Careful, your muscles will ache tomorrow,” but she had stubbornly kept going.

 

To maintain balance and stability while riding, one must engage the muscles in the back, hips, thighs, and calves. She knew this, so after returning home last night, she had used essential oils for a massage and a massage gun to relax her muscles. As it turned out, she had grossly overestimated herself. Now, it hurt so much that she regretted not listening to Rong Zhao the moment she opened her eyes.

 

To make matters worse, as soon as she looked up, she saw Rong Zhao stepping out of the bathroom in a smooth silk robe, moving with elegant grace and a composed demeanor.

 

This only fueled Mingzhu’s irritation. Her regret for not listening to Rong Zhao morphed into resentment toward the source of her pain. She blamed Rong Zhao—Rong Zhao shouldn’t have asked her to go riding for photos. It was all Rong Zhao’s fault.

 

“Are you glaring at me?”

 

Rong Zhao looked over at her.

 

“…No.”

 

One must bow when under another’s roof. Though resentment was swirling inside her, Mingzhu forced a smile and squinted her eyes at Rong Zhao: “I just had a dream. I dreamt I was bitten by a white swan.”

 

Rong Zhao arched an eyebrow: “Did you hit it back?”

 

She remembered Mingzhu muttering that she was like a white swan—fond of white clothes, fond of swimming, and wearing a look of high-altitude arrogance.

 

Mingzhu knew Rong Zhao had caught on, so she smiled sweetly to curry favor: “I didn’t hit it. I actually picked it up and kissed it. Such a beautiful swan… I couldn’t bear to hit it.”

 

Rong Zhao: “…”

 

Saying the opposite of what she means again.

 

Rong Zhao went to the walk-in closet to change. When she came out, Mingzhu was still huddled in bed. She asked, “Are you coming for breakfast?”

 

Mingzhu didn’t even want to shake her head; only her mouth moved: “No. Don’t want to move.”

 

Rong Zhao looked like she wanted to say something but stopped herself.

 

Mingzhu felt like Rong Zhao was scolding her silently, telling her she got what she deserved.

 

Rong Zhao walked to the bedside: “Does it hurt that much?”

 

Mingzhu played dumb and acted tough: “What hurts? Oh, you mean muscle pain? No, not at all.”

 

Over the past two days, when Mingzhu slept in, she would roll around with her duvet, check her phone, or stretch on the bed. This morning, she hadn’t moved an inch for over ten minutes.

 

Rong Zhao buckled her watch strap, poured a glass of warm water, and placed it on the nightstand. “I’m going to work. Eat your meals on time at home. If you want anything or need anything, tell Auntie Guan.”

 

Mingzhu acted obedient: “I know~ CEO Rong, go work hard and make that money. I’ll be a good girl at home.”

 

CEO Rong: “…”

 

Doubtful.

 

Sure enough, as soon as Rong Zhao left for work, Mingzhu stopped being “good.” Auntie Guan went upstairs twice to coax her into eating or stretching to relieve the pain. Mingzhu used her charms to say she’d get up “in a bit,” but “a bit” turned into hours.

 

Left with no choice, Auntie Guan messaged Rong Zhao to report her. Forty minutes later, He Chan stood at the door of Rong Zhao’s bedroom holding a bag of things, looking like a stunned wooden chicken.

 

“Bai Mingzhu? Bai Mingzhu, why are you sleeping in Rong Zhao’s bed?”

 

Mingzhu almost thought she was hallucinating, but the voice was too loud and clear. She bolted upright, staring wide-eyed at He Chan.

 

He Chan: “?”

 

Mingzhu: “…”

 

One minute later.

 

The housekeeper smiled: “Miss He, Miss Rong and Miss Mingzhu have already registered their marriage. They have a marriage certificate.”

 

He Chan: “??”

 

Mingzhu: “…”

 

Five minutes later.

 

Looking at the marriage certificate, He Chan felt so dizzy she thought she was in a parallel universe. “Are you two in a fake marriage?”

 

Mingzhu’s mouth moved faster than her brain: “No, Rong Zhao pursued me. She chased me back in sophomore year. We dated in secret for two years, broke up at graduation, and recently rekindled our flame.”

 

He Chan: “…”

 

Is this for real? I don’t believe it.

 

Ten minutes later.

 

Regardless of whether it was true, He Chan dragged Mingzhu out of bed. Mingzhu went downstairs to eat, her face twisted in pain with every movement.

 

He Chan had studied early childhood education in the UK and taught kids English with a standard London accent. Her working hours were flexible; sometimes she drifted between kindergartens, and sometimes it was one-on-one play. Her bag was stuffed with rolls of “Little Red Flower” stickers.

 

Seeing Mingzhu eating properly, He Chan stuck a little red flower on Mingzhu’s cheek: “This is a reward for eating well. After you finish, I’ll help you stretch. After stretching, I’ll reward you with another little flower.”

 

Mingzhu: “…Did Rong Zhao ask you to come?”

 

He Chan: “Who else?”

 

She had received a call from Rong Zhao saying Mingzhu was aching all over after riding and wouldn’t eat. Auntie Guan couldn’t handle her, so she asked He Chan to come over. He Chan had been fuming when she heard this—Rong Zhao had denied it and fooled her before, and now she had the nerve to call her!

 

Then, she told Rong Zhao “Okay, okay” and rushed over, even buying a bunch of new board games on the way.

 

She felt that Rong Zhao and Mingzhu didn’t get along—it wasn’t that they looked down on each other or were openly hostile, but there was a subtle, invisible sense of competition. Their chemistry was just… strange.

 

She hadn’t received a reply to her messages to Mingzhu and worried Rong Zhao might not be attentive to her, so she brought new games without asking.

 

He Chan said, “I’ll play board games with you after the stretching.”

 

Mingzhu immediately pulled out the games Rong Zhao had given her. Only two boxes were open; the rest were untouched. “Let’s play these first.”

 

He Chan was surprised: “Rong Zhao gave them to you?”

 

“She did. And I ate the snacks, too.”

 

“…”

 

Fair enough. Rong Zhao probably saw that Mingzhu was in a pitiful state and gave them to her promptly. Besides, if Rong Zhao didn’t want to bring something, she’d refuse from the start; if she accepted the task, she’d get it done.

 

Mingzhu looked up at He Chan: “Hehe, thank you. Seriously, thank you. I wanted to thank you over WeChat, but my emotions were unstable the last couple of days so I didn’t reply. I wanted to thank you in person more, anyway.”

 

He Chan was soft-hearted and couldn’t handle such sincerity. She lowered her head quickly: “Why say that? We’re not strangers. Don’t say it again… By the way, I wonder if drinking alcohol helps with lactic acid buildup?”

 

The transition was so forced that Mingzhu laughed and bumped her shoulder against He Chan’s. She thought the drinking idea made sense and checked her phone, only to find that it actually worsens the discomfort.

 

Mingzhu: “Stupid phone.”

 

He Chan joked: “It is stupid, not even letting you drink.”

 

The two shared a silly laugh.

 

After resting for half an hour after the meal, Mingzhu was dragged into the cherry blossom courtyard by He Chan to stretch.

 

Mingzhu was curious about the cherry trees—were they grown from saplings or transplanted as adults? She decided not to ask and just admired the beautiful blossoms; she had loved them since she was a child.

 

After stretching, she was pinned down by Auntie Guan for an oil massage and a massage gun session.

 

When it was finally over, He Chan was drinking water at the kitchen island. Mingzhu placed a cherry blossom on He Chan’s shoulder: “Come out with me for a bit.”

 

“Where? And why are you wearing a wig?”

 

“To my dad’s company. I don’t want to be recognized.”

 

In the café below Mingzhu International Travel Agency, Mingzhu met her father’s special assistant, Jiang Heyu.

 

“It is indeed a project that the Second Boss invested in abroad that went wrong. In fact, there have been problems of all sizes for the past two years. The total investment was over 800 million. It has lost nearly 500 million in operating costs over two years. The funds aren’t returning, the losses are growing, and capital for other projects can’t keep up. The hole is getting bigger and bigger.”

 

After Mingzhu led him through several conversational traps, Jiang Heyu finally told the truth.

 

Mingzhu’s heart sank. Her second uncle had scammed her dad before, but her dad was the type to keep believing in him over and over again. Perhaps many men have this flaw.

 

“Did my dad say what he plans to do next?”

 

Jiang Heyu knew what had happened to the Bai family. He had even helped Mr. Bai arrange some matters. He felt a great deal of sympathy for Mingzhu. Trying his best not to sigh, he said steadily: “Mr. Bai said he has a plan. He will start resolving it once he returns from Nanmo City.”

 

Mingzhu learned a few more details about the project and then asked Jiang Heyu not to tell her father that she had looked for him. If he had to say something, he should say she contacted him before she returned to the country. Jiang Heyu understood and agreed. Mingzhu thanked him and left.

 

He Chan was waiting in the car, looking at her phone. She saw someone in a group chat saying Wan Ling had been grounded by her family, and everyone was gossiping about why. Seeing Mingzhu return, she put her phone away. “Did you see Assistant Jiang? How are your parents doing?”

 

Mingzhu didn’t want He Chan to worry about her family’s financial troubles. She had told He Chan she just wanted to ask the assistant how her parents were doing emotionally.

 

Mingzhu scrunched her nose and made a face at He Chan: “Happy on one hand, miserable on the other. It’s fine, accepting this takes time. It’ll be better in a couple of years.”

 

“What about you? How are you?” He Chan worried.

 

Mingzhu riding that horse for so long yesterday must have been a way to vent her inner pain.

 

Mingzhu thought for a moment and said seriously: “My nose still stings when I think about it, but I’m slowly accepting it. Hehe, I’m fine. Trust me, I’ll pull myself together.”

 

“Are you… going back to your biological parents? Have you contacted them?” He Chan asked cautiously.

 

Mingzhu shook her head immediately: “No. They weren’t good to that child; they won’t be good to me either.”

 

Several days had passed and they still hadn’t contacted her. They were likely in Nanmo, dealing with her parents. Probably trying to get money out of them, Mingzhu guessed.

 

He Chan sniffled quietly.

 

Mingzhu heard it and laughingly covered He Chan’s eyes: “I’m fine. I have you and Rong Zhao. When Jiang Jiang comes back, I’ll have her too. I have so many of you.”

 

He Chan blinked back her tears and felt temporarily relieved. She stuck another little red flower on Mingzhu’s face: “A reward for you. No matter what, you have us.”

 

“…Thank you.” Mingzhu’s eyes grew slightly moist.

 

“There you go with the ‘thanks’ again. If you say it again, I’m ignoring you.”

 

“Okay, I won’t.”

 

Mingzhu laughed and patted the red flower on her face. She didn’t take it off, letting it stay there. She took off her wig, letting her red hair fall, combed it through with her fingers, and opened the window.

 

The wind blew past her ears, ruffling her jasmine-scented hair. Her eyes were full of gratitude, but also a hint of confusion.

 

She knew He Chan and Jiang Jiang were her support system. If she asked, they would provide a safe harbor. Yet, for some reason, relying on He Chan and Jiang Jiang felt like a psychological burden to her.

 

Relying on Rong Zhao, however, felt perfectly natural. She even felt a strange, inexplicable sense of enjoyment from it.

 

Mingzhu and He Chan hung out all day. In the afternoon, she even accompanied He Chan to a one-hour class for kids. They had dinner outside before returning to Rong Zhao’s house to play board games around the coffee table.

 

They were playing intently until they heard approaching footsteps. They looked up and both froze.

 

Rong Zhao was wearing a white turtleneck knit top and a pale oatmeal-colored long skirt. In her hands was a transparent vase with a bouquet of roses—not many, about five or six, decorated with slender greens and tiny red berries. As she passed the floor-to-ceiling window, the pink sunset light filtered through the cherry blossoms and fell across her profile. She looked like she had stepped right out of an oil painting.

 

Mingzhu snapped out of it after a few seconds, waving with a smile: “Rongrong, you’re back! You bought flowers.”