Did the Tsundere Miss Get Slapped in the Face Again Today? - Chapter 85

Chapter 85: “When You Miss Me, Do You Do… This Or That?”

Two years later, Jiang Zhi returned to the villa where she had briefly lived. When she left back then, she once believed she would never have the chance to return. Looking at this building—simultaneously familiar and strange—she felt a wave of bittersweet emotion.

After the initial nostalgia, she remembered something. “A while back, I saw a news report saying there was a fire at this villa. Looking at it now, there aren’t any burn marks. Was it fake news?”

At the time, seeing that report had made her hands shake so violently she forgot everything else and called Lin Anran immediately. In the few seconds it took for the call to connect, she had imagined every worst-case scenario. Fortunately, she heard the other woman’s voice, safe and sound.

“That news? It wasn’t fake, but the information was wrong. It wasn’t my house; it was the neighbor’s,” Anran said.

Jiang Zhi nodded in understanding.

“However,” Anran tilted her head to look at her, “the ‘error’ might have been an accident, or it might have been deliberate. What do you think?”

Jiang Zhi froze. “You…”

“I just wanted to see if a certain someone was still following me—like searching my name online every day. I didn’t expect a fish to actually take the bait.” Anran patted her shoulder. “Look at you, secretly lurking. So spineless.”

Jiang Zhi fell silent.

Inside the villa, Anran called out toward the kitchen: “Auntie, where are the eggs I asked you to boil?”

The housekeeper’s voice came from the kitchen: “Third Miss, you’re back! The eggs are ready; I’ll bring them over right away.”

Jiang Zhi looked puzzled. “Didn’t we just eat? Why eggs? Are you hungry again?”

Anran took off her blazer, tossed it aside, and sat down. “They’re for you.”

Jiang Zhi picked up the discarded jacket and hung it on the rack. “For me? I can’t eat another bite. I’m stuffed from lunch; my stomach still feels uncomfortable.”

As she spoke, the housekeeper emerged with two warm eggs. Anran gestured for Jiang Zhi to take them.

“Thank you,” Jiang Zhi said helplessly as she took them.

“You’re very welcome,” the housekeeper smiled kindly. She turned to Anran with a respectful bow. “Third Miss, I’ve finished the cleaning. If there’s nothing else, I’ll head off for the day.”

Anran hummed in affirmation.

The housekeeper left, and the living room fell quiet, leaving only the two of them. Jiang Zhi held the eggs, feeling conflicted. Her stomach was uncomfortably full; she really couldn’t shove an egg down.

Forget it, I’ll just eat it, she thought. It’s my fault for giving this little ancestor something to hold over me.

She peeled the egg and was about to put it in her mouth when Anran frowned. “What are you doing? Who told you to eat it? Those are for a warm compress on your bruised arm.”

Jiang Zhi stopped mid-motion. Her brain took a long detour before she realized what Anran meant. She looked at the bruise left by the elevator door, then at the peeled egg, and let out a soft laugh.

When did Lin Kitten become so considerate?

“What are you laughing at? Hurry up and apply it. It won’t work once the eggs get cold. I searched it online; this is supposed to help,” Anran said.

“You specifically looked that up?” Jiang Zhi teased. The response was, predictably, a cold glare.

Jiang Zhi knew when to quit while she was ahead. She sat down happily beside her and gently pressed the warm egg against the bruise. Anran watched her for a moment before getting up and heading upstairs.

“Where are you going?” Jiang Zhi asked, still massaging her arm.

Anran didn’t answer and went straight to the second floor. A few minutes later, she returned with a glass of water in her left hand and two tablets in her right. They were pale green and looked incredibly bitter.

“Take these.” Anran placed the medicine and water on the coffee table.

“What’s this?” Jiang Zhi was confused by the sudden medication.

“What else? Poison, obviously. If you try to run away, it’ll take effect immediately and you’ll die bleeding from every orifice,” Anran threatened fiercely.

Jiang Zhi’s lips twitched. Childish, she thought.

“Weren’t you stuffed? They’re digestive tablets,” Anran added.

Jiang Zhi was stunned. She had only mentioned her stomach discomfort in passing, and Anran had remembered? It felt strange. In the past, Anran didn’t know how to take care of people; when Jiang Zhi had a fever, she would just panic nearby and occasionally check if Jiang Zhi was still breathing.

Now, between the egg compress and the tablets, Jiang Zhi felt moved but also a bit unaccustomed to this level of care. She swallowed the pills with a gulp of water.

“I lied,” Anran said. “It really was poison.”

Jiang Zhi continued sipping her water, completely unruffled. Seeing that her scare tactic failed, Anran huffed, her interest waning.

Suddenly, the phone in Jiang Zhi’s pocket vibrated. She set down her glass and checked it; it was a message from Li Yingying. Jiang Zhi sent a quick reply, but a split second later, a head popped into her line of sight.

“Who are you messaging?” Anran snatched the phone away.

Jiang Zhi’s hand was suddenly empty as she watched Anran scroll frantically through the chat history. Jiang Zhi shook her head with a smile. “Go ahead and look. We aren’t talking about much—just an online friend who also does social media.”

Anran checked thoroughly but couldn’t find anything wrong. Even so, she had no intention of returning the phone. She exited the chat with Li Yingying and began an indiscriminate inspection of Jiang Zhi’s other messages, checking every contact and even their Moments. She was very busy.

Midway through her inspection, she suddenly looked up.

“What is it? Did you actually find a problem?” Jiang Zhi asked. There couldn’t be a problem; her social circle was tiny, she had changed her number two years ago, and she barely had any friends on her account.

“You don’t have me on this WeChat.”

“My old account had you.”

“I want to be on this one too.”

“Fine, add yourself. You have the phone; you can do whatever you want. I can’t stop you anyway.”

Anran arched an eyebrow. “You said it. I’m going to check the whole phone. I’m telling you in advance: I’m very polite and respect your privacy. Do you agree?”

Jiang Zhi: “If I say no, will you give it back?”

Anran silently sat further away, turning her body so Jiang Zhi couldn’t grab the phone. Jiang Zhi shook her head. She wasn’t surprised; once the phone was in Anran’s hands, it was hard to get back. She’d have to let her flip through it until she was satisfied.

Jiang Zhi calmly picked up her water and took a leisurely sip.

Then, the phone was thrust back in front of her. “This long essay saved in the Notes app… who did you write this for?”

Jiang Zhi’s expression stiffened.

It was the “long essay” she had written a week ago. She hadn’t had the courage to send it, so it remained saved locally. She had forgotten all about it, only for Anran to dig it up.

“It’s nothing… I just copied it from somewhere else,” Jiang Zhi lied, trying to grab the phone.

Anran pulled back, dodging her. “What are you grabbing? Why are you trying to steal my phone?”

Jiang Zhi choked. Since when did it become her phone?

For the next ten minutes, Lin Anran read the entire essay aloud, forcing Jiang Zhi to endure a face-to-face critique and judgment. As Anran read the words out loud, Jiang Zhi felt like she was going to curl her toes so hard she’d dig a hole in the floor.

“What is this? The writing is terrible. Oh, look, a typo! This sentence doesn’t even make sense; the grammar is wrong. Why use this idiom here? Did you fail Chinese class?”

Anran critiqued her until Jiang Zhi lost all her spirit. Finally, Anran didn’t forget to copy and paste the text to send to herself.

“You’ve already read it several times and laughed at me. Why do you need to save it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Anran said with a look of feigned disgust. “Even though you wrote a pile of dog sh*t, it’s still your heartfelt truth. Writing such a long passage shows you put in some effort.”

Jiang Zhi: “You can keep it, just don’t take it out and read it all the time.”

Anran: “I am definitely going to read it all the time.”

Jiang Zhi: “…”

Late at night, the two lay in the same bed with the distance of one person between them. It had been too long; a certain awkwardness had set in, and they didn’t dare get too close.

“Lights off.”

“Mm.”

The switch clicked, and the room plunged into darkness. In the pitch black, their hearing became exceptionally sharp. Jiang Zhi could hear the other woman’s breathing—shallow, yet enough to stir the heart.

“Are you asleep?” Anran asked.

“No,” Jiang Zhi replied.

Anran rolled from her back onto her side to face her. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

Jiang Zhi thought for a moment. “Because it’s only been two minutes since the lights went out. I can’t fall asleep instantly.”

Anran pouted. Jiang Zhi also rolled onto her side so they were face-to-face. Their gazes met in the dark.

Anran toyed with a lock of Jiang Zhi’s hair scattered on the pillow. “We’ve been apart for so long. Did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

Anran gave the lock of hair a light tug. “How much? Be specific.”

It stung a little, but Jiang Zhi didn’t stop her. “I already gave you the specifics. Didn’t you judge that essay over and over? That’s how I felt. Even though you said my writing was bad and I used wrong idioms.”

Anran shook her head. “No.”

“Hm?”

Anran moved closer, resting her head on the same pillow so they shared it. “The ‘missing’ I’m talking about… I mean at night. When it’s quiet and everyone is asleep. Do you miss me so much that you… have to…”

She whispered the last words into Jiang Zhi’s ear, light and ticklish: “…comfort yourself?”

Jiang Zhi’s breath hitched. When she realized what Anran was implying, her ears turned a deep crimson.

“You… you,” Jiang Zhi stammered. “What are you talking about? Go to sleep.”

Anran wrapped an arm around her waist, pinning her so she couldn’t retreat.

“When you miss me, you don’t do that?” Anran lightly nipped her earlobe, her breath fanning against Jiang Zhi’s skin, trailing heat down to her heart.

“Because I do. When I miss Jiang Yi very, very much… I do that.”

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