Although They're Mentally ill, They're Extremely Easy to Comfort - Chapter 21

Ling Xi had an utterly devout attitude toward exquisite craftsmanship. She took out a brand new pair of white cotton gloves from the coffee table drawer and put them on.

Holding the ‘White Jade Armor’ steel pen, she meticulously observed it, her fingertips carefully tracing every detail. She couldn’t help but lavish praise: “This historical series co-launched by Amblou is truly worth collecting. Tsk… the details and material treatment are absolutely superb!”

Qiao Bo’er gracefully rested her chin on her hand, her gaze filled with admiration for the beauty before her.

If Ling Xi was the person on the bridge looking at the scenery, then Qiao Bo’er was the one by the window admiring Ling Xi. That soft sigh was an involuntary expression of her feelings: “You are also superb…”

“Of course, my eye for appreciation has always been sharp!”

They were clearly not on the same wavelength, yet they managed to connect in conversation. Seeing the smug look on Ling Xi’s face, Qiao Bo’er really wanted to flick her forehead in playful bullying.

Qiao Bo’er understood that Ling Xi was a genuine little lazy cat who needed to be pampered. So, she deliberately used a gentle and sweet tone to coax her: “Teacher Ling seems to know a lot about this pen, how about giving me a little extra knowledge lesson?” The pleasant “Teacher Ling” immediately disarmed the “salty fish” (a slang term for someone unmotivated), throwing their previous petty grievances to the wind.

Temporarily setting aside the rift, Ling Xi straightened her back, showcasing her professional expertise, and began a detailed introduction: “The full name of this pen is ‘White Jade Armor.’ The pen cap material is mother-of-pearl, which has been polished into small squares and strung together, resembling the jade burial suit with gold threads from the Han Dynasty.”

Qiao Bo’er was the owner of the pen, so naturally, she knew everything about it. But wanting to test Ling Xi’s appreciation level, she deliberately asked a question she already knew the answer to: “Then why choose this material? Wouldn’t using jade be more fitting for the allegory?”

“Good question.”

Ling Xi playfully gave Qiao Bo’er a thumbs up and explained: “Starting from the Silk Road, people in the Central Plains introduced fine jade from the Western Regions. But what’s lesser known is that pearls were also taken from the Central Plains to the West. Using mother-of-pearl better reflects the history of the first cultural integration of Sino-Western trade.

The design of the pen clip is also very special. The inscription ‘Nine Ministers, Chief Minister of State Rituals’ is engraved on it, originating from the seal script on Han bamboo slips. It refers to the Chief Minister, also called the Grand Minister of Ceremonies (Taichang), one of the Nine Ministers in the Han dynasty, who managed the nation’s rituals.

The pen body is deliberately divided into upper and lower sections.

The large area of material covering the upper part is real silk embroidery, symbolizing the Han Great Wall, signifying the Great Wall’s protection of the Silk Road. The material used in the lower part is Kalahari gemstone, carved into the shape of a Great Wall gate, echoing the theme.

And the pattern pieced together by this entire circle of yellow sapphires in the lower section is a replication of the armor worn by Han soldiers. Hence, naming it ‘White Jade Armor’ is very descriptive.”

Qiao Bo’er carefully observed Ling Xi’s serious expression as she delved into the explanation. The charm of knowledge was more interesting than a good-looking facade. She pointed at the pen cap and asked, “What does this diamond represent?”

“The hollow structure embedding the diamond is in the shape of a ding (ancient Chinese cauldron), symbolizing the ‘Nine-Five Supreme’ (the emperor). Among this series, the Han Dynasty model has the most distinctive details and materials, making it the undisputed King of Pens.

But to be honest, its collectible value far outweighs its practical value. Using it as an office pen risks knocks and scratches, which would cause its value to depreciate. That would be such a waste of something precious.”

Ling Xi was engrossed in her talk, but Qiao Bo’er threw a bucket of cold water on her at just the right moment: “Enough, small talk is over, let’s talk business.”

This crazy woman couldn’t take criticism. A couple of critical remarks and she’d turn hostile, shattering the hard-won relaxed atmosphere. Ling Xi rolled her eyes at Qiao Bo’er.

She leaned down to pick up the document on the floor and scrutinized it. The document used too much jargon and beat around the bush with flowery language. It was clearly a trap; Ling Xi might be lazy, but she wasn’t stupid.

“The whole thing doesn’t have a single reliable word. It’s a surface negotiation for a settlement, but in reality, you want me to work for you for free, using no less than 30 appraisal assignments to offset a 3.5 million debt. You’re very good at the cheap labor exploitation routine, aren’t you? Your little scheme is going too far. I won’t sign.”

Qiao Bo’er’s light-colored eyes, fixed on Ling Xi, seemed to speak volumes, and her hands didn’t stop moving. She snatched the document away and tore it into shreds, scattering a mess of confetti.

Ling Xi could feel Qiao Bo’er’s silent provocation. But she didn’t flare up, because her eyes, which had been glaring fiercely at Qiao Bo’er, inadvertently glimpsed a tantalizing flash of soft, smooth, snow-white skin.

Her ears burned with guilt, and Ling Xi turned her head, pretending nothing had happened.

Suddenly, that beautiful hand cupped Ling Xi’s chin, forcefully turning her gaze back. Qiao Bo’er asked knowingly, “You dog, what were you looking at?”

Qiao Bo’er’s teasing was full of adult mischievousness. She slowly leaned closer, her words floating and tantalizing.

“I wasn’t looking, stop talking nonsense.”

Ling Xi swallowed, masking the panic in her heart, and propped herself up with her hands, kicking off her slippers and retreating into the corner of the sofa until she could go no further.

The two were positioned as one attacker and one defender (or receiver), a historical similarity that was eerily striking.

Aside from the sound of the sofa friction, Qiao Bo’er could faintly hear Ling Xi’s rapid heartbeat, a nervous thump revealing the endless tension of life.

The smile that surfaced was warm, without the slightest malice or mischief. Her usually detached expression also became subtle, and even the force with which she pinched Ling Xi’s chin was no longer harsh.

It was like catching a beloved pet, wanting to tease and bully it, yet treasuring it too much to use excessive force.

Qiao Bo’er merely leaned in, but hadn’t yet been audacious enough to kiss her. Ling Xi was already terrified, squeezing her eyes shut and curling into a ball. She looked like a hedgehog making a show of being aggressive, but completely powerless to resist.

Qiao Bo’er chuckled and stopped her movement, lifting her hand to gently stroke Ling Xi’s smooth black hair, pulling a strand to her nose—it smelled faintly of milk.

But how could she let this little lazy cat off so easily?

Unable to suppress the impending burst of possessive desire, Qiao Bo’er turned her head, deliberately avoiding Ling Xi’s lips, and rained kisses on her neck and behind her ear. The rubbing and light biting caused a paralyzing itch.

“Qiao… you bastard… go away… roll…” The more she tried to suppress her body’s most primitive response, the more her erratic breathing betrayed Ling Xi’s true nature.

Her mouth slightly parted and closed. The sensitivity behind her ear was utterly controlled by this damn crazy woman. She no longer had the strength to grit her teeth, but could only stubbornly mouth out the words to drive away the instigator.

But to Qiao Bo’er, those two ‘roll’s felt like hitting cotton candy—softness permeated with sweetness, even hinting at a subtle coyness.

The fun of teasing lies in knowing when to stop. Qiao Bo’er understood that the Ling Xi of this moment did not belong to her. She was used to waiting in the desert years, so she wasn’t in a hurry.

Ending the prank, she sat back on the sofa, as if everything that had just happened was a momentary illusion.

Ling Xi was visibly shaken, her neck covered in the red lip prints left by the crazy woman, and her hair was a mess.

What was even more absurd was that Ling Xi seemed like an emotionless monster. Despite being on the verge of assault, she showed no sign of anger.

Qiao Bo’er felt baffled. She deliberately provoked with words: “Why aren’t you angry? Shouldn’t you slap me?”

Ling Xi didn’t answer. She silently kept rubbing the places where Qiao Bo’er had kissed her, as if using her unspoken action to vent her disgust for Qiao Bo’er.

“Speak, why don’t you speak?!” Qiao Bo’er was anxious. She had countless fantasies about how much more interesting life would become after breaking into Ling Xi’s world. But every time she provoked her like a madwoman, the results were always disappointing.

“…” Ling Xi huddled in the corner of the sofa, ignoring her. Her neck was covered in large red scratch marks from her own frantic rubbing, but her hand still showed no sign of stopping.

Qiao Bo’er couldn’t stand it any longer. She forcefully grabbed her hand to stop her, her tone softening: “Is my temper particularly bad?”

The sudden change of topic was abrupt, followed by another long, suffocating silence, like enduring the bitter deep winter.

Ling Xi fiercely shook off Qiao Bo’er’s hand and retorted coldly with sarcasm: “You’ve lived for so long, are you only now realizing how awful your temper is?”

The Ling Xi before her was neither a ‘salty fish’ nor a little lazy cat, but a stranger burdened by old, unhealed pain.

Those beautiful willow eyes had lost their clarity and brightness, becoming so dim they seemed capable of dragging Qiao Bo’er into a man-eating abyss.

Qiao Bo’er’s pride wouldn’t allow her to lower her arrogant posture in front of anyone, and her language became tyrannical again: “I’ll give you one more chance to speak properly.”

Ling Xi smiled rebelliously and coldly, yet her brow was tightly furrowed.

She lowered her gaze to the mess on the floor, her wrinkled pajamas, and could still vaguely smell the lingering scent of Qiao Bo’er’s perfume left on her body.

She hated kissing, hated physical contact, hated new people and things intruding on her monotonous life—she hated too many things.

But did she hate Qiao Bo’er? Perhaps she did.

Ling Xi’s tone, when she finally spoke, was laced with wounding sarcasm: “CEO Qiao, I’m simply a scapegoat who has to bear a huge compensation. If you want to use the guise of compensation to play various meaningless ambiguous games, I suggest you find someone else. I, Ling Xi, can’t afford to play.”

In that moment, Qiao Bo’er wanted nothing more than to cut open Ling Xi’s heart to see what it looked like inside. Why was the blood flowing beneath that insincere, joking smile so cold?

Why, after we met, did arguments swallow up happiness?

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