After Being Taken by the Eldest Young Lady - Chapter 10

When Jiang Xule returned home, she felt like a rental house that had been drenched by rain the day before—not a single part of her was dry.

Fang Yize had intended to drive her home, but Jiang Xule had fled in a panic following Fang Yize’s confession. On the way, the wind and rain were so fierce they had torn her ancient Paradise brand umbrella into a mangled mess.

In the end, she could only run home in a state of utter wretchedness.

What exactly does she like about me?

This was the question Jiang Xule pondered the entire way.

Fang Yize’s voice during the confession was like a demonic tune she couldn’t shake off; it kept echoing in her mind, making her scalp tingle.

It was, quite frankly, a bit too eerie.

Jiang Xule walked quickly to the coffee table, poured a glass of ice-cold overnight water, and downed it in one go. She then stripped off her clothes as she headed toward the bathroom.

The tiny bathroom in this dilapidated rental didn’t have a showerhead or a water heater. She either had to squat under the tap to wash or fill a bucket and pour the water over herself.

Usually, she just used a bar of soap and called it a day, even though her legs would develop fish-scale-like flakes of dry skin every winter. She had never cared about such superficial things until a few days ago, when a little girl said she smelled bad while she was delivering a package…

After work that day, she had spent a fortune on a large bottle of body wash. The scent was like the cheap, grainy fragrance of a nine-yuan-nine-shilling “quicksand” perfume from Pinduoduo; it was too pungent even to use as a bathroom air freshener.

After washing, her skin felt slippery, as if it weren’t fully clean, but the experience was still much better than using soap, which left her skin as dry as the East African Rift Valley.

However, the scent of the body wash only lasted through the night and dissipated by the next day, so Jiang Xule bought a bottle of perfume online.

Since most of her money was saved, she didn’t have much left for living expenses. She had looked up reviews before buying; cheap perfumes were worse than none at all, so she bought a mid-range, affordable one.

Using perfume to cover the smell of tobacco was less effective than quitting smoking—which would also save money on cigarettes and lighters… but that was impossible. She was currently in a state where she knew smoking was harmful to her health, but she would smoke even if it killed her.

Life was stressful, and anxiety and irritability were inevitable. She could indeed rely on nicotine to relieve fatigue. If she really ran out of money for cigarettes at the end of the month, the only thing left to relieve stress would be DIY.

After her shower, she sat on a plastic stool, crossed her legs, and lit another cigarette. She scrolled through various work groups on WeChat to see if any shops needed temporary workers.

Before long, Yang Huan sent her a message.

Yang Huan: [Xiao Le, Yuegang No. 1, 2, and 3 Middle Schools are holding Children’s Day galas soon. A college classmate of mine works in stage production; they need three movers. It’s 100 yuan a day, and I’ve already signed you up.]

Yang Huan: [It’s fine if you’re busy; I can cover for you then.]

Jiang Xule: [There’s a rainstorm these days, and they’re still holding a gala?]

Yang Huan: [Children’s Day is the day after tomorrow. This storm can’t last that long; it’ll probably be over by tomorrow at the latest.]

Jiang Xule: [Okay, I’ll go.]

A moment later, Yang Huan sent the location. It was quite far… a thirty-minute walk. After subtracting the subway fare, she wouldn’t actually earn much that day.

Middle schools didn’t give holidays for Children’s Day, but some schools placed great importance on the arts—especially No. 1 Middle School, which had a gala for almost every festive occasion.

At times like this, the unluckiest people were the students on cleaning duty the next day. Despite repeated warnings not to throw snack bags on the ground, the venue was always a mess after the event.

However, the cleaning area for Class 2, Grade 10 was quite remote and not in front of the stage, so they didn’t have to worry about that.

They only had to pray that the Grade Dean wouldn’t ask students from other classes to help the designated class clean up that area.

Whenever there was an arts gala, students would start practicing new programs a month in advance. Some girls in Class 1 had studied dance and would actively organize rehearsals.

Most classes choosing to dance would pick relatively easy-to-learn medleys. The remaining thirty percent would choose girl group dances.

These were the most anticipated performances; students would often try to find out long in advance which girl group’s dance a certain class was performing.

The school had only two dance teachers. While dance majors had programs choreographed by teachers, many other classes would either strike while the iron was hot and beg a dance teacher for guidance or figure it out themselves using tutorials on their phones.

Fang Yize was the type who was a “jack of all trades, master of none,” but she was more than capable of guiding students for a school stage. However, she only appeared during the first three days and the very last day of rehearsals.

She taught several classes, and each class had a different progress rate. In one evening, she had to grade several sets of homework and papers. She wanted to keep her free time for herself.

On Wednesday afternoon, Fang Yize had two classes. Before the second class ended, Dean Shan called her again, asking her to come down and help set up the stage.

So, as soon as the bell rang, she rushed down.

“Why are you just getting here?” Even in this heat, Dean Shan was still holding an old-fashioned thermos. He pursed his lips to blow away the tea leaves before taking a sip. Standing before the stage, he looked like a construction foreman at a factory.

Fang Yize had run down from the sixth floor, and fine beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead. She caught her breath before replying, “I had class, Dean.”

“Are you busier than the President every day?”

Look who arranged the schedule for Grade 10… some are drowning while others are parched… it’s easy for you to talk.

Fang Yize gave him a subtle eye-roll when Dean Shan turned to greet other teachers.

“Fine, go over and help. Move these flower pots first. When the audio equipment arrives later, keep an eye on things.”

Not many teachers were involved. There were only two idle dance teachers discussing design blueprints and an intern teacher who, like her, was doing manual labor.

Fang Yize jogged over to help her with the pots.

“Teacher Fang, how do you have time to come?” The intern, Zhang Ning, was surprised.

Everyone in school knew that Fang Yize was the class teacher with the heaviest teaching load, yet her salary was the same as any other class teacher. As fellow laborers, it was hard not to empathize.

But empathy was one thing; no one dared to speak up for her. If her workload were reduced, those classes would have to be covered by someone else, and no one wanted to be busier than they already were.

Facing Zhang Ning’s confusion, Fang Yize said with a calm exterior, “Because I’m here to rescue you. Give me the big one.”

“Ugh, you’re the best.”

Teaching didn’t usually require much physical strength, but Fang Yize was much stronger than the average teacher. During a team-building arm-wrestling match, she hadn’t lost to any female teacher.

Did she lose to a male teacher? No, she hadn’t accepted any invitations from them in the first place.

If she had known that having strength would lead to being called to move flower pots, she would have acted more fragile back then.

It was all a tale of woe.

The equipment delivery arrived at the school gate. After receiving a call, Dean Shan waddled toward the gate, clutching his thermos.

Before long, a large truck appeared in everyone’s sight, followed by a group of men and women wearing company vests.

Standing on the stage, Fang Yize easily spotted the prominent Jiang Xule in the crowd. She was tall and thin, with her long hair tied back, looking languid yet focused.

She really was an all-rounder, capable of any job. Every time they met, Jiang Xule was in a different role.

The workers were split into three groups for the three schools. Jiang Xule was originally assigned to Yuegang No. 2 Middle School, but because two girls wanted to stay together, they swapped Jiang Xule to this location.

Because Fang Yize was standing on high ground, Jiang Xule spotted her quickly too. But she only spared her one glance before acting as if nothing happened, unloading equipment from the truck with her colleagues.

Installing the equipment wasn’t a job for temporary workers; they were only responsible for moving things and assisting. During this half-day, they could even be ordered around by the school to help move flower pots.

“Xiao Fang, come here!” Dean Shan squinted in the bright sun and said, “Don’t just stand there! Come help! Check the inventory list to see if everything is here!”

Just standing there? Then who placed this long row of flower pots in front of the stage—ghosts?

“Dean Shan, I don’t know what equipment the school ordered.”

“If you don’t know, can’t you look? Isn’t there a list right here?” As he spoke, Dean Shan pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket that had been “violated” by his sweat.

He was on the heavier side and had a deep voice. Standing still in summer made him sweat more than others, so the paper was nearly transparent.

Fang Yize didn’t know where to grab it. From the moment he pulled it out and flicked it open, she had already caught a whiff of a sour smell mixed with “old man” scent.

She pursed her lips, held her breath, and took the list with feigned composure.

“Okay, okay, okay…”

“Look closely. This cost a lot of money; I’ll have to get the Principal to reimburse it later,” he muttered the last part to himself.

Although Jiang Xule wasn’t looking their way, she wasn’t far off. Since Dean Shan had a loud voice, she heard their conversation clearly.

It seemed Fang Yize’s status at Yuegang No. 1 wasn’t as high as it had been back in their school days.

Last time at the buffet, when Fang Yize rashly stood up for her, Jiang Xule thought she was a tough character—the kind who dared to challenge leaders in the workplace. She hadn’t expected her to also suffer suppression and even have to accept unfair treatment with a smile.

Jiang Xule suddenly felt a sense of balance.

It seemed she hadn’t disclosed her identity as a rich young lady in the workplace; no wonder she drove such a common sedan.

The first thing Fang Yize did after checking the equipment was to get rid of that list. She hurriedly returned it to Dean Shan, and before he could speak, she immediately went to help set up the racks.

She really didn’t want to hear him nag.

Jiang Xule glanced at the person who had run to her side but didn’t speak. She had to act cold so that Fang Yize would give up on liking her.

“Jiang Xule, you’re wearing perfume.”

“…”

What kind of dog nose is that?

Does that mean she also smelled the “bad odor” the little girl mentioned?

Jiang Xule had only sprayed a bit on her clothes that morning. There was a half-arm’s distance between them, and they were outdoors. To be able to smell it like this—if that wasn’t a dog nose, what was?

“This scent suits you well. It has a faint hint of tea.”