After the Bankrupt Heiress Married into a Rich Family - Chapter 46

Chapter 46: Angry!

“I’m going to have a few meals with her. Do you mind?”

Rong Zhao’s phone was set to silent, but the vibration mode was on. A low “buzz” echoed against the tabletop, the vibration causing the device to shift slightly.

The sound was so sudden that Mingzhu’s brain seemed to “buzz” in synchronization. Her body hit a total pause. Her ears rang, and she stared blankly into the air, lost in disbelief.

How?

How could “Old Classmate from Class 3, Year 2” be Rong Zhao?

Why would Rong Zhao add her secretly and then refuse to admit it?

Does Rong Zhao actually have a secret crush on her?

Mingzhu’s breathing quickened. Her heart hammered so hard it felt like it would leap out of her throat. Then, her entire body went weak and tingly. Her own phone slipped from her hand and hit the table with a sharp clack.

Snapping out of it, the corners of Mingzhu’s lips curled upward unconsciously. The smile widened until her eyes were brimming with suppressed joy. She tried to press her lips together, covertly shifting her gaze to Rong Zhao’s phone.

The screen had already gone dark, reflecting the warm round light from above. That light looked like a golden sunrise reflecting on the ocean—beautiful and soul-soothing.

Mingzhu picked up her teacup and took several deep breaths to stop herself from looking too happy. She called out softly, “Rongrong, your phone rang. I think you got a WeChat message.”

“Could you check it for me?” Rong Zhao called back from the kitchen. “You know the password.”

Rong Zhao was busy; hand-poured coffee required precise timing and temperature. Stepping away for even a moment would ruin the flavor.

Mingzhu hummed an acknowledgment, her index finger nervously picking at her thumb. Should I really look? If she saw her own message on Rong Zhao’s screen, she might actually laugh out loud.

She let out a silent giggle, waited a few seconds, then picked up Rong Zhao’s phone and entered the code. There was a red notification badge with the number “12” on the WeChat icon. Twelve unread messages? Did Rong Zhao just not like reading new messages?

Mingzhu’s breath hitched. She pressed her hand over her left chest; her heart was racing so fast she felt faint. Finally, she tapped in.

Then, Mingzhu’s eyes widened in shock.

The top chat in the list wasn’t her own avatar. The contact name was: Qin Wei.

Qin Wei sent Rong Zhao a message?

What was going on? Why wasn’t it her message at the top?

Mingzhu checked the timestamp. Qin Wei had indeed messaged a minute ago. Was it just a coincidence? Mingzhu glared at the name “Qin Wei,” silently cursing her own stupidity.

The WeChat IDs didn’t even match—how could the phone have vibrated for her message? Rong Zhao’s profile picture was a hand-drawn yellow crescent moon, and her nickname was “Ming.” The “Old Classmate” account had a picture of a white shell holding a bright pearl.

Mingzhu’s scalp tingled with irritation. What was she so happy about just now?

Self-indulgent. Wishful thinking. Delusional.

Mingzhu bit her lip hard, her eyes falling on Qin Wei’s message. It was just three words: “Is it convenient?”

Mingzhu didn’t tap in to see their chat history. Though she was burning with curiosity, she remembered to respect privacy and maintain her boundaries. Especially since her marriage to Rong Zhao was fake, she couldn’t afford to lose her sense of propriety.

Just like upstairs—even though she had guessed the password to the safe and heard the click, she hadn’t actually opened it. She had simply been proud of her guess and then shut it immediately. She was the daughter of Bai Zhaolin and Shao Simian; the lessons they taught her about boundaries were etched into her bones. Her upbringing held her curiosity in check.

Besides, if someone else peeked at her private life, she’d be furious. Thinking from that perspective, she wouldn’t look.

“Rong Zhao, it’s Qin Wei,” Mingzhu called out.

“What did she say?” Rong Zhao asked.

“I didn’t tap in, I just saw it in the list. She’s asking if it’s convenient for you.” Mingzhu glanced at the other eleven messages but didn’t look closely.

Rong Zhao’s voice drifted over: “Got it. Just leave it there.”

“Aren’t you going to reply?” Mingzhu asked.

Rong Zhao chuckled from the kitchen. “Well, isn’t it ‘inconvenient’ for me right now?”

Mingzhu: “…”

That meant as soon as the coffee was done, it would be convenient, and she’d reply to Qin Wei. Mingzhu put the phone down, feeling a heavy gloom settle over her. She couldn’t help but blame Jiangjiang again. Why did Jiangjiang give her these groundless hints and false hope, making her suspect Rong Zhao had a crush on her?

Now, Rong Zhao wouldn’t wear the bunny suit, which was embarrassing. And Rong Zhao wasn’t the “Old Classmate,” which made Mingzhu realize how much she had overthought things.

It was all for nothing. All that secret joy, wasted. Her body felt drained of energy—bored, depressed, and irritable.

Rong Zhao finished the coffee and brought it to the island. “Hot coconut latte with thick coconut milk. Be careful, it’s hot.”

Mingzhu looked down. Rong Zhao had frothed the milk into a beautiful bunny latte art.

Bunnies. Bunnies again. She hated bunnies now. She wanted to burn that bunny lingerie set.

“Wow, thanks,” Mingzhu said. She tried to act normal, but she couldn’t fake the spark in her eyes. Her smile was stiff.

Rong Zhao noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Mingzhu leaned down and licked the foam with her tongue, pretending she was still in high spirits.

Did Qin Wei send something obvious? Rong Zhao frowned slightly and picked up her phone. She opened the chat, but there was nothing. Qin Wei had only asked if it was convenient. Scrolling up, it was just Qin Wei mentioning she was going to the U.S. and asking Rong Zhao to help look after Mingzhu and Yining.

Since she and Mingzhu were married, Rong Zhao didn’t like Qin Wei telling her to “look after” her own wife. She had ignored the part about Mingzhu and only replied that Uncle Bai and Aunt Shao would take care of Yining.

“What does Qin Wei want?” Mingzhu asked nonchalantly.

Rong Zhao showed her the chat screen. “Probably just asking me to look after you and Yining.”

Mingzhu saw that the conversation wasn’t flirtatious, and her frustration eased slightly. But why didn’t Rong Zhao reply “I’ll take good care of Mingzhu”?

Then she remembered that Rong Zhao and Qin Wei had been talking for a month over her and Yining’s affairs. The discomfort returned—like an invisible egg yolk stuck in her chest, making it hard to swallow. She lowered her head to drink the coffee, forcing a cheerful tone.

“It’s delicious. Thanks, Rongrong. You’re the best.”

“As long as you like it.”

Mingzhu drank coffee often. Even at night, it usually didn’t keep her awake; sometimes it even helped her sleep faster. But tonight, she tossed and turned.

Lying in bed alone, the space beside her felt emptier than it had in Xitang Town. Rong Zhao’s period wasn’t over yet, so she wasn’t sleeping with her; she was busy in the study.

Doing what? Working? Does she love work that much, even on a holiday? Or was she replying to Qin Wei? Maybe Rong Zhao had deleted the sensitive messages before showing her the screen.

The more Mingzhu thought, the more blocked her chest felt. It was no longer just a “stuck egg yolk”; it felt like she’d swallowed water and was bloating, making it hard to breathe. She turned over and used the remote to open the curtains, staring blankly outside. No wonder the ancients loved to project their feelings onto the moon when they couldn’t sleep. The night was deep, thin clouds veiled the moon, and the moonlight felt cold.

In the study, the curtains were drawn. Rong Zhao had only a bright white desk lamp on. Her phone lay on the desk, displaying the message Mingzhu had sent to the “Old Classmate.”

“Are you there?”

Just those three words. No more. The timestamp matched exactly when Qin Wei had messaged.

Why did Mingzhu message this account while waiting for coffee? And why was she unhappy? Was she testing her?

During the days since Mingzhu returned, they had been together day and night. Rong Zhao had consciously stayed on her main WeChat and hadn’t checked the other one, only seeing the message just now.

Rong Zhao rubbed her temples with two fingers. Why the sudden message? Had Mingzhu sensed something? Was it because she had been too good to Mingzhu lately, causing Mingzhu to feel repulsed or resistant?

Rong Zhao’s temples throbbed. Today, Mingzhu had accidentally opened the hidden cabinet. That cabinet could be opened by fingerprint or the code 6464. Rong Zhao hadn’t changed it after Mingzhu moved in because she trusted her. She believed that even if Mingzhu guessed the code, she wouldn’t actually open it.

Back in March, she told Mingzhu her phone code was 6464, and now, in May, Mingzhu had never peeked. Mingzhu valued her own privacy and wouldn’t invade others’. Therefore, she was sure Mingzhu hadn’t seen the bunny plushie inside.

Mingzhu’s “test” today had nothing to do with the plushie. That left only one possibility: she had failed to maintain proper boundaries, letting Mingzhu feel her true feelings. Or had Jiangjiang said something? Mingzhu was easily influenced; had she believed Jiangjiang’s “wild” guesses?

Jiangjiang had bought those things, stuffed them in the suitcase, and even secretly tipped her off. That Jiangjiang…

Rong Zhao sat in silence for a long time, resisting the urge to scold He Chan and Jiangjiang for meddling. She opened the curtains and stared at the moon. Eventually, the moon shifted behind different patches of clouds. Rong Zhao regained her composure.

The next morning, Mingzhu woke up in Rong Zhao’s soft embrace.

She didn’t know when she had fallen asleep, but when she woke up in the night and felt herself in Rong Zhao’s arms, her irritable mood was instantly soothed. Reassured, she had fallen back asleep. She woke up with a soft smile.

So what if Rong Zhao doesn’t like her? It’s precisely because she doesn’t that they can last a long time. She didn’t know why she had been so bothered last night.

“Awake?” Rong Zhao’s voice was slightly lazy.

Mingzhu pressed her face against Rong Zhao’s shoulder, her leg draped over Rong Zhao’s. She nodded brightly. “Awake and hungry.”

Rong Zhao chuckled. “All you think about is eating.”

“I used up so much energy last night! I wasn’t hungry before bed so I didn’t eat. It’s been over ten hours. Aren’t you hungry?”

Rong Zhao’s finger toyed with Mingzhu’s ear. “I’m alright. Do you want to get up and eat now?”

“No,” Mingzhu acted spoiled, staying in bed. “Let’s lie here a bit longer. It’s rare that you don’t have to work.”

As she spoke, she instinctively reached out to touch Rong Zhao’s soft skin. Remembering the period, she stopped and just hugged her waist.

Rong Zhao waited for a moment, but the usual touch didn’t come. After a silence, she twirled a strand of Mingzhu’s hair and said softly, “I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” Mingzhu asked in a lazy, drawn-out voice.

Rong Zhao spoke slowly: “A classmate from my time studying abroad is coming back to China. I might have a couple of meals with her. Do you mind?”

Mingzhu’s entire body tensed up instantly. “A female classmate?”

Rong Zhao smiled slightly. “Of course.”

Mingzhu’s head went fuzzy. Why did Rong Zhao use the word “of course”? Why couldn’t it have been a male classmate? Rong Zhao worked in the automotive department; having male classmates was normal.

Wait. Rong Zhao came out in high school.

Mingzhu looked up. “Is she Chinese or a foreigner?”

“Chinese.”

“Local or from out of town?”

“Out of town. She’s just visiting for two days.”

“Do you want me to come along and meet her?” Mingzhu asked.

Rong Zhao looked at the ceiling. “No need. We’ll just be talking about school days. It would be unfamiliar to you and might be awkward.”

Mingzhu finally processed the words, but something still felt unclear. A sharp pang, like a needle, pricked her heart. She sat up, crossing her legs beside Rong Zhao, and said seriously: “Of course I don’t mind.”