After the Bankrupt Heiress Married into a Rich Family - Chapter 48

Chapter 48: Lithromantic

[Part 2] A fingertip flicked it open.

Dusk had settled completely, and the old mansion glowed with warm yellow light. The shadows of diners flickered through the windows of every floor.

In the parking lot, an inconspicuous Rongke electric car suddenly began to rock and sway, causing passersby in the courtyard to peek inside curiously.

Inside the car, Mingzhu and Jiangjiang were in a full-blown scuffle. Jiangjiang was hell-bent on dragging Mingzhu inside to eat, thinking Mingzhu would eventually give in. To her surprise, Mingzhu was determined to stay hidden, even going so far as to wedge herself into the footwell.

Jiangjiang grabbed her in frustration. “Bai Mingzhu, what are you afraid of? You’re Rong Zhao’s legitimate wife, not a mistress! What’s there to be scared of? Get up and go inside with me!”

Mingzhu gripped the bottom of the seat with one hand and pushed Jiangjiang away with the other. Her hair was a mess, her face disheveled, but she was giggling at Jiangjiang’s fury. “Why are you so angry?”

Jiangjiang reached out to grab her wrist. “I’m frustrated that you’re so spineless! Where is that ‘lionheart’ of yours?!”

“Right here.” Mingzhu lunged forward as if to bite Jiangjiang’s hand. Knowing Mingzhu might actually do it, Jiangjiang pulled back in a fright.

Mingzhu sat up, smoothing her hair and laughing. “Jiangjiang, this is China. Social grace is the most important thing. Rong Zhao’s classmate came all the way from abroad. Even if she likes Rong Zhao, and even though Rong Zhao and I are ‘real,’ I have to give Rong Zhao face. I can’t just barge in and cause a scene. The right way is to go home and ask her later. Besides, we’re fake—I have even less right to go in and mess things up.”

Jiangjiang threw her hands up. “Fake? You two have already slept together! You left hickeys all over her neck! Fake, my foot! Bai Mingzhu, don’t you dare act like us art students from France don’t understand how the world works!”

Mingzhu’s face flushed hot as she hugged the seat leg—maybe because of the mention of hickeys, or maybe just from being squeezed in the car. She laughed, “I’m not talking about ‘others,’ I’m just talking about you.”

Jiangjiang was fuming but couldn’t win the argument. She tried to pull Mingzhu again, but Mingzhu remained steadfast. She was not getting out of this car.

Jiangjiang finally gave up. “Didn’t you say you were hungry? You wanted cabbage with tofu, braised bamboo, and scrambled eggs? How are you going to eat without going in!”

If it were He Chan eating alone with a classmate from abroad, Jiangjiang wouldn’t care about social grace. She’d not only walk in but sit at the next table and watch him eat. Moreover, it was dark outside and bright inside; she could see the alcohol on Rong Zhao’s table. Rong Zhao was drinking! If they lit a candle, it would be a full-blown candlelight dinner!

Jiangjiang was a firecracker, especially since Mingzhu had been unhappy all day. She didn’t want her friend to suffer this grievance.

Mingzhu, however, had a plan. She elegantly brushed back her messy hair. “Call the owner and have him bring it down. We’ll take it to go. I want a bowl of rice, too—this place makes great rice. Do you want some?”

Jiangjiang: “…” Eat, eat, eat. You’re going to be the death of me.

Mingzhu lightly rubbed her wrist, touching the watch Rong Zhao had given her. Thinking of how well Rong Zhao treated her, she didn’t want to make her upset. She reminded Jiangjiang softly, “Don’t turn on the headlights later. Rong Zhao has sharp eyes; she’ll see us.”

Rong Zhao looked idly out the window. She caught sight of the owner of Shiyan Restaurant carrying a takeout bag to a Rongke car. He put the food in the trunk, then walked to the driver’s window and leaned down to whisper a few words.

A moment later, the car turned around and left. The owner walked them to the gate, stood for a moment, and then returned.

The night was deep. Since the car hadn’t turned on its lights in the courtyard, the figures inside were obscured. Rong Zhao didn’t look closely. However, she narrowed her eyes slightly. That wasn’t a high-end Rongke model. Why did the owner deliver the food personally?

“She doesn’t have avoidant attachment; she has lithromanticism. There’s a difference,” Su Yujian said, tapping the table. “Turn back around.”

Rong Zhao turned back, but the words didn’t quite register.

Su Yujian continued: “But if the person is you, the result is the same. Essentially, if you are too good to her and she senses you might actually have feelings for her, she feels pressured. She’ll stop wanting deep contact and only want to be around the ‘cold’ version of you.”

Rong Zhao finally looked up. “Put your chopsticks down and speak properly.”

Su Yujian: “…”

She put them down and leaned on her arms. “Many psychologists explain lithromanticism and avoidant attachment as childhood trauma. But what trauma does your goddess have? Her parents treat her wonderfully. She has no trauma. Honestly, a lot of this is just innate. But if we call it ‘innate,’ there’s nothing to research, so scholars blame the family of origin to find a way to ‘fix’ it. Think about it: if it were all the family’s fault, why would siblings from the same home have completely different personalities? Oh wait… or maybe you accidentally gave her ‘adolescent trauma’ back then.”

Rong Zhao: “…” When did I ever traumatize her?

Su Yujian: “Seriously, think. Did you ever let her misunderstand something?”

Rong Zhao’s gaze drifted. If we’re talking about misunderstandings… in the sixth grade, Mingzhu never said her name was Bai Mingzhu, which is why Rong Zhao couldn’t find her “Uncle Bai.” During the first two weeks of high school, Mingzhu was so busy hugging and laughing with new friends that she completely forgot her “Sister Mingyue.” It wasn’t until Rong Zhao pointedly appeared before her that Mingzhu recognized her in shock.

Rong Zhao had been petty and angry for a long time. At the time, she had claimed she didn’t remember Mingzhu—a comment Mingzhu held onto for years. That particular issue had already been cleared up by her mother and He Chan during the fishing trip at the villa.

What other misunderstandings could there be?

“How long are you staying in China this time?” Rong Zhao asked, taking a sip of wine.

Su Yujian ignored the question. “Does your goddess know you used to fly to the U.S. constantly to see her during university?”

Rong Zhao: “…”

Su Yujian waved her hand. “Don’t. Whatever you do, don’t tell her. If you do, she’ll be even more repulsed. The cherry blossoms in the yard, the custom-designed watch, the ring—keep it all secret. People like her value boundaries above all else. What you’ve done breaks those boundaries; it would make her feel immense pressure. If you tell her, just wait for the divorce papers.”

Rong Zhao: “…”

Su Yujian was an undergraduate classmate with a similar background. After Rong Zhao’s first trip to the UK to see Mingzhu, Su Yujian started calling Mingzhu “your goddess.” Rong Zhao had tried to correct her at first but eventually gave up, only warning her never to mention it in front of He Chan. He Chan had also studied in the UK, and the three of them knew each other.

Rong Zhao poured more wine for Su Yujian. “I’ll buy you a ticket. Fly back tonight.”

Su Yujian laughed, tossing her hair. “I’m not leaving. You messaged me in the middle of the night asking what I was up to, and when I asked what was wrong, you went silent. I knew you were in trouble. I’m tired of work anyway; I’ll stay and rest. I’m not leaving until I attend your wedding to your goddess.”

A wedding? Mingzhu hadn’t made any preparations. She hadn’t mentioned makeup trials or wedding photos.

Rong Zhao took a drink, her eyes turning slightly red. Even so, her expression remained composed and calm, revealing none of her inner gloom. She noted coldly, “He Chan has a regular partner. You should definitely leave.”

Su Yujian: “…”

Rong Zhao was a person of boundaries. If Su Yujian had feelings for her, she would never have agreed to dinner. It was only because she knew Su Yujian’s target wasn’t her that she was willing to come out.

Above the Rongguang Villa, the sky was clear and the moon was bright. The wind moved thin clouds quickly around the moon, but the moon itself remained silent and still.

In the basement, Mingzhu was listening to music and rummaging through boxes. This basement was like a treasure trove filled with things Rong Zhao had bought but never used, gifts from brands, and out-of-season clothes.

Mingzhu was wearing a summer dress she had brought back from the Bai house. From the front, it looked normal, but the back was almost entirely open, held together only by two thin, delicate straps that crossed each other. The colors were vivid, more vibrant than a summer garden.

“This bag is actually quite nice, isn’t it?” Mingzhu selected a bag and showed it to Aunt Guan and Aunt Tang. It was a gift from a brand—understated but lively.

Aunt Guan smiled. “Beautiful. Everything looks good on the Young Madam.”

Mingzhu pouted. “You’re just humoring me.”

Aunt Tang added, “It’s true. Your red hair is stunning. A bright bag makes you look radiant, and a neutral bag balances your hair perfectly. Both are good.”

Mingzhu stood on her tiptoes with a grin. “Aunt Tang, you’re humoring me, too!”

“They aren’t.” A soft voice came from the doorway.

Mingzhu turned. Rong Zhao was back. She had clearly been drinking; her cheeks weren’t as pale as usual, and her eyes lacked their typical coolness. Her face was slightly flushed, and her gaze was a bit hazy, though she still appeared calm and rational.

Rong Zhao leaned against the doorframe, smiling warmly. “Mrs. Rong is indeed beautiful, so every bag looks good on her.”

Mingzhu laughed. “You’re humoring me, too.”

The two aunts quietly excused themselves.

“I’m not,” Rong Zhao said as the door closed behind them.

Mingzhu breathed in lightly. “You’ve been drinking?”

Rong Zhao stopped a few steps away. “Does it smell? I’ve already showered.”

Mingzhu smiled, putting down the bag. “No smell. You just smell like soap.”

The basement was meticulously organized—some items in glass display cases, others in labeled boxes. Everything was dust-free. After Mingzhu set the bag down, a silence fell between them.

Mingzhu continued looking for pretty things while Rong Zhao casually grabbed a book from a shelf and sat on a straight-backed chair to read. Mingzhu circled around and hid behind a shelf, peeking at Rong Zhao through a gap.

Rong Zhao had changed into pajamas. Perhaps because the aunts had been around earlier, she wasn’t dressed too sexily, wearing a silk short-sleeved shirt and matching shorts. However, Mingzhu noticed that while her buttons had been done up a moment ago, two were now undone. She didn’t seem to be wearing a bra; a glimpse of pale skin was visible.

Why is she down here reading instead of sleeping? Mingzhu thought. And she’s been drinking. Rong Zhao usually became a different person after alcohol, but right now she was very quiet.

Tonight, Mingzhu and Jiangjiang had eaten their takeout dinner at a beauty salon while getting skin treatments. When they finished, they went their separate ways. When she got home, Rong Zhao wasn’t back yet. Feeling restless, she had come to the basement to rummage through things. Now that Rong Zhao was here, she felt restless all over again.

“How was the chat with your classmate?” Mingzhu asked, stepping out from behind the shelf and trying to sound casual.

Rong Zhao turned a page. “Fine. She changed careers; she’s studying psychology now. We just chatted.”

“Psychology?” Mingzhu walked over, interested. “Did she start after graduation, or was it a double major?”

“After graduation.”

Mingzhu reached her side. “So is she a student, or does she have her own practice?”

Rong Zhao didn’t answer. Suddenly, she dropped the book, reached out, and pulled Mingzhu by the waist, setting her sideways across her lap. Mingzhu instinctively wrapped her arms around Rong Zhao’s shoulders, her breathing hitching.

Her lower back was completely bare. Rong Zhao’s warm palm pressed against her skin, moving slowly.

Her fingertip caught a thin strap and flicked it open. At the same time, Rong Zhao lifted her amber, slightly drunken eyes to look deep into hers.

Mingzhu’s heart gave a violent throb, making her feel as though she were the one who had been drinking. “Rong Zhao, you…”