After the Bankrupt Heiress Married into a Rich Family - Chapter 49

Chapter 49: The Basement

Both their cheeks were feverish and damp.

In the basement, Mingzhu’s phone sat atop a transparent storage box containing three different colored designer bags. The phone was playing a jazz playlist she had picked at random—the music was languid, psychedelic, moist, and low-frequency. The backlight of her phone case cast shifting, kaleidoscopic glows through the clear box.

Mingzhu stared blankly into Rong Zhao’s slightly drunken eyes, sensing a deep, swirling emotion flowing within them. It felt like a dark vortex, pulling her in, consuming her senses and her breath until she couldn’t think and couldn’t look away.

She forgot where they were. There was only the cold yet sensual Rong Zhao before her.

“Since you came, why didn’t you come up?” she heard Rong Zhao ask in a low voice.

The trance was broken. Mingzhu snapped back to reality, her gaze dropping to Rong Zhao’s moist, pink lips. She asked ditzily, “Since I came where? Why didn’t I…”

Halfway through the sentence, she stopped dead. She realized what Rong Zhao was asking.

They hadn’t even turned on the car lights—how did sharp-eyed Rong Zhao spot them?

Seeing Mingzhu’s sudden pause, Rong Zhao confirmed her suspicion. The person in that car really had been Mingzhu.

Mingzhu’s eyes darted around. “Rong Zhao, did you hear a sound? Was it an auntie knocking on the door?”

Rong Zhao: “…”

She’s like a child who can’t handle being caught, shifting the subject so clumsily.

“Maybe there’s a knocking sound in the song?” Rong Zhao played along, pretending to listen.

“Oh, right. Never mind then.” Mingzhu wrapped her arms around Rong Zhao’s shoulders. “Go on then. What were you asking me?”

As she spoke, she blinked her clear, bright eyes at Rong Zhao, looking as though she had absolutely no idea what Rong Zhao was talking about.

Rong Zhao chuckled. Mingzhu waited with a look of pure innocence for her to continue.

Rong Zhao obliged: “I was saying, I saw a car parked downstairs while I was eating. I thought it was you and Jiangjiang.”

Mingzhu widened her eyes so much her curled lashes nearly touched her eyelids. “I don’t know anything about that! No way! Impossible! Where were you eating?”

Rong Zhao: “…”

She wanted to laugh out of sheer exasperation. Had Uncle Bai and Aunt Shao also been driven to laughter by Mingzhu playing dumb like this? She had called He Chan; Jiangjiang hadn’t been with him all day. She had also called Secretary Qian and knew Jiangjiang had been in contact with her.

“What are you laughing at, Rong Zhao? Don’t you believe me?”

Rong Zhao: “…”

It seems I have to be careful in the future; I can’t blindly believe everything this girl says.

Rong Zhao lowered her gaze, running her fingers through Mingzhu’s red hair, combing it from top to bottom before gently gripping the ends.

Su Yujian had been wrong about some things tonight, but right about others. Even before they registered their marriage, when Mingzhu claimed to be lithromantic and avoidant, Rong Zhao understood that what Mingzhu needed most was boundaries and a sense of ease. Once those boundaries were breached, Mingzhu felt pressured and uncomfortable.

The correct way to handle her was to consistently provide enough security to make her feel comfortable, relaxed, and free—and then, in the long river of time, patiently wait for Mingzhu to take the initiative to move closer.

Was she anxious? Yes. But she didn’t want to lose the Mingzhu she had waited so long for.

Rong Zhao stopped pressing the issue. “I believe you. We had dinner at Shiyan Restaurant on Fu’an Road. It’s fine, I probably just saw wrong.”

Mingzhu didn’t even blink. “Yeah, you definitely saw wrong. Jiangjiang and I were at the beauty salon all evening.”

Rong Zhao smiled. “I smell it. You’re very fragrant.”

“And am I soft?”

“Very soft.”

Mingzhu twisted her waist triumphantly. Rong Zhao’s palm wandered aimlessly over Mingzhu’s supple lower back as she answered the earlier question: “After she graduated, she did a one-year BPS-accredited Master’s in Psychology. Then she did vocational training and clinical consulting to rack up hours. She hasn’t opened a practice yet, but that’s the plan.”

Mingzhu understood, though she felt a twinge of jealousy. Rong Zhao sure knows a lot about this classmate.

“There’s no romantic history between us. Not even during school,” Rong Zhao explained suddenly.

Mingzhu looked up. “What?”

Rong Zhao said warmly, “I’ve had a bit to drink, but I’m not drunk. Rest assured, there’s nothing between us. Don’t overthink it or misunderstand.”

The strange discomfort Mingzhu had felt all day suddenly dissipated. “I didn’t overthink it,” she lied, then asked curiously, “Why are you explaining this to me?”

Rong Zhao’s heart, which had been floating with a secret hope, sank. So Mingzhu hadn’t come upstairs not because she was jealous or misunderstood, but simply because she didn’t want to.

Rong Zhao smiled with a touch of casualness. “Given our current relationship, of course I should explain. It’s a matter of politeness and boundaries. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or disappointed in me. I hope that no matter what happens, our relationship remains stable and harmonious. Don’t you?”

Mingzhu: “…”

Strangely, those words cleared the last of the clutter in her mind. “Anything?”

“Of course. Anything. The agreement stands. That is my promise.”

Mingzhu let out a soft laugh. “Okay. Me too.”

The two looked at each other—Mingzhu with a squinty, playful smile; Rong Zhao with a hazy, drunken one. The words weren’t fully spoken, but a consensus was reached.

The languid, psychedelic jazz continued. The temperature in the room seemed to rise. Aside from the music, the sound of quickening breaths began to entwine like climbing vines.

Mingzhu’s fingertips tentatively touched Rong Zhao’s collarbone. “Do you want me to…?” She was worried Rong Zhao wouldn’t want to.

Rong Zhao’s palm tentatively stroked Mingzhu’s back. “My period is ov—” She was worried Mingzhu was repulsed by her.

They spoke at the same time and stopped at the same time. Their heated gazes met and did not pull away.

The moonlight was lingering, the night wind was tender, and the moon shifted through the clouds.

The basement was dim. The jazz music was so loud the phone seemed to vibrate against the box. If one listened closely, there were intermittent gasps and the sound of a bookshelf gently shifting, the rhythm occasionally syncing with the cymbals in the jazz track.

In front of the bookshelf, Mingzhu—who had specifically washed her hands—was pressing against Rong Zhao. Rong Zhao’s left hand supported Mingzhu’s lower back, while her right hand gripped the shelf behind her.

Drunkenness clouded Rong Zhao’s face; her cold cheeks were flushed, her eyes were red, and her ears, neck, and collarbone had turned a deep crimson. Mingzhu hooked one of Rong Zhao’s legs, her face buried in the crook of her neck, kissing and sucking with heated urgency. Rong Zhao’s voice, at its softest and most tremulous due to the alcohol, sounded more beautiful than any music.

“Will the aunties hear?” Mingzhu suddenly looked up, her face pressed against Rong Zhao’s. Their cheeks were hot and sticky with fine sweat, but they refused to pull apart.

“No,” Rong Zhao trembled, her fingers threading through the hair at the back of Mingzhu’s head. The music was loud and the door was shut. They couldn’t hear.

Suddenly, a loud thump.

A book on the shelf had been shaken loose and fell, followed by another hitting the floor. The two sounds were sharp and distinct. They both froze. Mingzhu looked up; the two shelves directly above Rong Zhao were empty, so nothing would hit her.

Mingzhu used her foot to hook a book over. “Step on this?” she gasped. With her feet elevated, she wouldn’t have to bend down as much.

The pace picked up.

The sun rose in the east, the sky turning from yellow to white as golden rays pierced the clouds. In the courtyard, the chlorophyll in the cherry tree leaves had increased, turning them from the tender brownish-red of last month to a lush emerald green. The yard was full of life.

The maids were already busy—the kitchen maid, the cleaning maid, and the laundry maid each tending to their tasks.

In the third-floor bedroom, Mingzhu was nestled comfortably in Rong Zhao’s arms. After their shower late last night, she had found her pajamas bothersome and discarded them; now, pressed against Rong Zhao, she even looked comfortable in her sleep, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned.

Suddenly, a phone rang. Mingzhu flinched, her toes curling against Rong Zhao’s foot under the covers. She opened her eyes. Rong Zhao was frowning at the phone on the nightstand, wondering who would call so early.

“It’s my alarm.” Mingzhu rolled over, grabbed the phone, and silenced it. She crawled back, flopping onto Rong Zhao and hugging her with a sway.

“Why… why did you set an alarm?” Rong Zhao asked.

It had been nearly half a month. Between Mingzhu being in Xitang for a week and Rong Zhao’s period taking a week to end, the mutual feeling of insecurity had acted as a stimulant. They had held each other tighter and tighter. Mingzhu had lost control and been a bit rough; Rong Zhao’s voice was raspy this morning, and her body felt leaden. Her fingertips slowly traced Mingzhu’s shoulder.

“I wanted to get up and have breakfast with you,” Mingzhu murmured.

Rong Zhao laughed softly. “Why?”

“Because I want to buy a new bag.”

“Okay.”

Mingzhu laughed and looked up from Rong Zhao’s chest. “By the way, is your classmate just visiting? Or is she like Jiangjiang, here for our wedding?”

“Hard to say.”

Mingzhu realized she didn’t mind as much anymore. After all, Rong Zhao had explained everything so clearly last night. She smiled. “Well, if you need me to accompany her, just tell me. I’m fine with it. I like making friends, and I’d like to learn about your university life.”

“Mhm.” Rong Zhao didn’t actually want them to meet. Su Yujian was even more blunt than Jiangjiang; it was a recipe for disaster. She didn’t respond further, instead lifting a shoulder. “Wash up together?”

“Sure.” Mingzhu threw back the covers and clung to Rong Zhao. “Let’s go like this.”

Rong Zhao: “…” Shameless. “Put on some clothes, or at least some shorts.”

“I don’t want to. I’m going just like this.”

In the master bathroom’s double vanity, Mingzhu squeezed in next to Rong Zhao to brush her teeth. Rong Zhao draped a bath towel around both of them; they looked like conjoined twins in the mirror.

After rinsing, Mingzhu asked, “Why did you build a double vanity when you lived alone?”

“To raise a Mrs. Rong.”

Mingzhu huffed. You didn’t even know who Mrs. Rong would be back then.

Rong Zhao stepped under the showerhead, then suddenly turned back. “Is there anything else from our school days you’re still brooding over? Let’s talk. If it’s a misunderstanding, I’ll clear it up.”

The piano music box Rong Zhao had given Lu Zi—the black one with “Happy Birthday” laser-engraved in Rong Zhao’s handwriting—flashed before Mingzhu’s eyes.

She followed her in, hugging Rong Zhao’s waist under the water. “Yeah. You were always first in class. No matter how hard I tried, I could never catch up to you.”

Rong Zhao: “…” That’s not a misunderstanding. That’s a fact.

After their shower and breakfast, Mingzhu was in the living room looking through some new invitations. Before long, while Rong Zhao was still upstairs changing, the doorbell rang.

Aunt Guan checked the monitor. It was a stranger. She pressed the intercom.

The person outside laughed. “Hello, Auntie! I’m Rong Zhao’s classmate, Su Yujian. Is Rong Zhao home? If not, I’m looking for Mrs. Rong.”

Rong Zhao heard those two sentences just as she was coming downstairs.

There’s going to be trouble, Rong Zhao thought.