My Sweet And Submissive Bunny Won't Stop Being Clingy - Chapter 1

In the early morning, the city sun hid behind the clouds. The lack of light made the air feel oppressively heavy.

Suddenly, the “ding-dong” of a ringtone echoed through the room.

A pale hand reached out and tapped the screen lightly. As soon as the call connected, a blustering male voice beat her to the punch: “Meng Hemian, did you really resign?”

Meng Hemian recognized the caller, a colleague from the same department she wasn’t particularly close to. He was the type who loved prying into others’ privacy with roundabout questions.

She replied nonchalantly, “Mhm.”

“Huh?” The man couldn’t help but howl. “Why am I the last to know!”

Meng Hemian placed her folded clothes into a suitcase and picked up an old photo frame from the desk.

In the photo, a woman held an expressionless little girl, her smile gentle. If one looked closely, they would notice the girl looked eighty percent like Meng Hemian.

Meng Hemian packed the frame away, her emotions showing no ripple. “I recall telling you that yesterday was my last day.”

“Hiss… I thought that was an April Fool’s joke.”

“I rarely joke.”

“…”

In the workplace, Meng Hemian was like a cold, reliable machine: meticulous, precise, and deeply trusted. She worked overtime without complaint and her efficiency was always peak. She seemed to have no need for vacations or rest, she could handle emails normally even with a fever of 39°C.

Consequently, no one expected her to quit so suddenly and decisively.

After a few seconds of silence, the man on the other end gave an awkward laugh, his noisy chatter ramping up. “Sister, don’t be like that. How can this project go on without you?”

Ignoring him, Meng Hemian focused on tidying her desk, neatly organizing her electronics and toiletries.

the man persisted. “Have you found your next gig yet? Can I still reach out to you if I have questions?”

Still silence.

He grew impatient, his tone turning accusatory. “Come on, give me some face. We were colleagues, does it have to be this tense?”

The curtains swayed slightly in the morning breeze. The room, decorated in black, white, and gray, lacked any “lived-in” feeling, it was so clean it looked as if no one had ever lived there.

Meng Hemian snapped her suitcase shut and let out a scoff.

“No, I can’t, and I won’t. Why on earth should I give you ‘face’?”

Click! Before he could respond, she hung up the phone with crisp finality.

Meng Hemian didn’t care what others thought of her, the morning’s triviality wasn’t worth remembering.

An old bus rolled slowly along the asphalt road. She sat in the very last row by the window, looking down at an email:

“Ms. Meng, the legacy you have inherited includes a small courtyard, a storefront, and a rabbit.”

A rabbit.

It was strange, this was the first time Meng Hemian had learned that a rabbit could be inherited.

This was the reason for her resignation. A month after her grandmother passed away, she had received this email from the executor of the will. Thus, on a busy afternoon at work, she suddenly felt the urge to return to her hometown to claim the inheritance and see the rabbit her grandmother had specifically mentioned in her will.

“Next stop, Qingwu Street. Please prepare to disembark…”

As the announcement played, Meng Hemian looked up.

The mottled glass reflected a clean, elegant face with narrow eyes and a slender silhouette. Her lips, in particular, drooped slightly when she wasn’t smiling, making her look quite displeased. She was naturally not a fan of smiling, which gave her a very world-weary aura.

She looked out the window.

The branches of the plane trees hadn’t been trimmed in ages. Vines crawled over the signs of closed shops, moss eroded the door curtains, and the bicycles parked by iron fences were long since rusted beyond recognition.

This small city, named Jianglou, was very old. Compared to the rapidly developing metropolises, it was like that broken bicycle, completely rusted away in time.

But for Meng Hemian, there was no difference where she lived.

The bus reached the stop. She hopped off with her suitcase, looked left and right, and began walking in the direction of her memories. The suitcase rattled “clack-clack” against the uneven ground, sounding piercingly loud in the quiet street.

However, even noisier than that was her phone, which began “ding-donging” incessantly.

Meng Hemian let out a very soft sigh and pressed the answer button.

A firecracker of a voice exploded through her Bluetooth headset: “You brat! Why didn’t you call me when you arrived?”

Meng Hemian instinctively tilted her head away and said flatly, “I didn’t want to trouble you.”

She figured Heaven must love opposites; otherwise, why was she always surrounded by loud, lively, and passionate people? Like this one, her childhood friend, Wan Xianyu.

Wan was quite boisterous, you could hear her slapping the table even over the phone. “What kind of friendship do we have? Don’t talk about ‘trouble.’ Tomorrow I’ll take you for a stroll, the old street has changed quite a bit.”

“Mhm.”

Meng Hemian’s gaze scanned the house numbers along the way, thinking that things truly had changed; she almost didn’t recognize it.

Wan Xianyu was dissatisfied with her perfunctory answer.

“What’s with the ‘mhm’? You’ve been gone for years, and you’re still a wooden gourd now that you’re back.”

Meng Hemian’s eyes moved past a mess of overgrown weeds and caught a glimpse of purple.

It was the wisteria from her grandmother’s house.

She gave another “mhm” and turned her steps toward it.

This half-dead attitude drove Wan Xianyu crazy, but she couldn’t do anything about it, so she could only shout her questions.

“You’re killing me! Don’t you have any expectations for your new life?”

Meng Hemian actually looked down and thought seriously for a moment before saying, “No.”

The old house would need cleaning, and the grass in the yard was likely overgrown and messy. Whether she could even get a good night’s sleep tonight was a question, she had no time to think about much else.

Yet Wan Xianyu persisted. “You have to think! Think of something good!”

“Like what?”

“Like… living together with a rabbit-eared maid.”

The tone sounded completely improper. Meng Hemian dithered for a second, nearly tripping over a protruding stone brick.

This development was far too ridiculous. She would sooner believe the world had magical bunnies than believe she would one day live with someone else.

In front of her was an old wooden door. The panels were even slightly cracked, but there wasn’t a trace of moss on the copper knockers. Just as clean was the house number hanging on the wall:

No. 21 Qingwu Road.

One of the few places Meng Hemian actually missed.

As if afraid of disturbing a childhood memory deep in her mind, she unconsciously lowered her voice. “I’m here. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Fine!” The call ended as stormily as it had begun.

Only the chirping of birds remained.

This place was different from the other courtyards. The rose vines grew orderly, without wild branches or dead leaves from neglect. Through the iron fence, she could catch a glimpse of the yard.

Pink roses blooming vibrantly, hydrangeas still in bud, and pomegranate flowers dotting the branches. All of them were covered in dew, looking as fresh as if they had just been pulled from water. The wisteria tree climbing over the gate was especially graceful, like a flowing cloud of a hazy dream.

The wind brought a faint, sweet fragrance. Meng Hemian frowned slightly. Her grandmother had been away from the old home for a long time logically, these plants shouldn’t be so tidy.

Her mind linked this to recent news stories about “squatters taking over homes while the owners are away,” and she felt something was wrong. To be safe, she pressed the doorbell.

Da-da. The sound of wooden clogs on the ground approached from a distance.

Meng Hemian’s frown deepened. She had already prepared her script for questioning and calling the police. If that were truly the case, the frustration in her heart would surely hit its limit.

The wooden door opened with a “creak.” But what popped out wasn’t some shifty-eyed thug.

Instead, it was a beautiful young girl with light yellowish-brown hair and fluffy rabbit-ear decorations.

Black and white lace ribbons were tied into a pretty bow atop her head, and she wore a matching maid outfit.

The moment their eyes met, her almond shaped eyes widened, looking slightly nervous. She awkwardly lifted a corner of her maid skirt, revealing black stockings that stopped just above the knee and a small section of thigh as white as snow.

Meng Hemian’s heart skipped a beat. She instinctively took half a step back, unable to help but wonder if this was some new type of scam.

Yet, she saw the girl drop into a curtsy, her eyes filled with sparkling smiles.

“Welcome home!”

The sky was as clear as if it had been washed, and a sudden breeze blew.

Sunlight danced between the flowers and the hem of the girl’s skirt, every bit as brilliant as her smile.

In the silence of her sudden loss for words, it occurred to Meng Hemian out of nowhere:

So, it was already late spring.