My Sweet And Submissive Bunny Won't Stop Being Clingy - Chapter 5

After listening to Wen Shuyao’s description, Meng Hemian guessed exactly which one it was.

What a coincidence, she had just picked it up by the scruff of its neck this afternoon. That “bunny bread” was tiny enough to be casually tucked into a coat pocket.

She nodded slightly. “Thank you. I’ll consider it.”

Wen Shuyao’s heart, which hadn’t quite settled yet, leaped into her throat again. She hurriedly looked down to pet the rabbit, pretending she didn’t care at all.

But how could she not care?

She also wanted to know what kind of impression Meng Hemian had of her.

The grey rabbit in the crook of her arm seemed to sense her tension and obediently licked her arm.

“By the way, did Wan Xianyu ever ask you to make wisteria cakes?” Meng Hemian took the opportunity to ask.

Wen Shuyao pushed her stray thoughts aside and began to reminisce seriously.

“Yes, but I tried several times and could never replicate that flavor. Perhaps Grandma Meng had her own secret recipe.”

While she was wondering why Meng Hemian would suddenly bring this up, she saw the other woman hand over an old, yellowed notebook.

“There is a recipe in here. Take it and try again.”

Meng Hemian was serious. She didn’t know the first thing about making pastries, so she figured it was better to hand the recipe to someone who did; in a way, it was a form of passing down the heritage.

However, Wen Shuyao froze for a moment before firmly refusing.

Clutching the little rabbit, she took a step back, making her stance clear: “I can’t. This is something very precious. I can’t take it.”

Setting aside commercial value, even in terms of personal sentiment, she felt she was far from qualified to share in the Meng family’s legacy.

Meng Hemian didn’t care. “No matter how precious it is, someone needs to learn it.”

“You can learn. I’ll teach you.”

Wen Shuyao checked the time and made a quick decision. “It’s still early. How about I put the rabbit back and then go to the kitchen to teach you how to make pastries?”

Meng Hemian’s brain stalled for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

After going in circles, the task had fallen back onto her own shoulders. Only now, she didn’t know how much longer she would have to stay here.

But in the end, Meng Hemian agreed.

She wasn’t a procrastinator, and fortunately, Wen Shuyao was equally proactive. Soon, the ingredients and tools for practice were ready.

Flour, sugar, and lard were neatly arranged. Wen Shuyao tied her hair up once more and stood before the cutting board.

“Wisteria cakes are a type of ‘water oil skin’ pastry, so first we will learn how to knead the dough.”

Perhaps because she was touching upon a familiar field, her tone remained gentle, but the hesitance was gone, replaced by confidence.

She was like a piece of crumpled paper dropped into water, suddenly smoothing out, with even the stray hairs by her ears catching the light.

“After mixing the ingredients and kneading them into a smooth dough, we let it rest.”

She stepped aside to show Meng Hemian the dough she had kneaded. “Come feel it, get a sense of the elasticity.”

Meng Hemian extended a finger and pressed down cautiously. It was soft, a different texture than the bunny’s belly.

Then, Wen Shuyao carefully explained several key points of kneading.

While Meng Hemian was still recalling the steps, she heard Wen Shuyao say: “Your turn. Try it.”

“…”

Fine, she’d just have to dive in.

She mixed the ingredients and added water bit by bit to knead the dough, but after several attempts, it just didn’t feel right.

Before she could ask, another slender hand reached out, hovering loosely over the back of hers.

Wen Shuyao tentatively pressed down. “Not like that. You need to use the heel of your palm to knead. This kind of pressure is just right.”

The posture was a bit too intimate. Meng Hemian wasn’t used to it; her back went stiff and straight.

The night was cool as water and the world was silent, making the presence of the other person particularly vivid.

That ghost of a touch and the warmth of the skin pressed against the back of her hand gave her an illusion, as if she were being gently nuzzled by a small animal.

If she had turned back the clock two days, she never would have imagined a night like this.

Making pastries, raising a rabbit, living with another girl, none of these things seemed to belong to Meng Hemian. Her former colleagues would likely have their jaws hit the floor if they heard about it.

Meng Hemian tried a few more times. She kneaded the dough quietly, and Wen Shuyao withdrew her hand, watching silently from the side.

While the dough rested, Wen Shuyao made red bean filling.

Her hands seemed exceptionally nimble, in a few swift motions, she wrapped the filling in the dough, shaped them, and sent them into the oven.

Next was the wait for the red bean cakes to come out.

Soon, a warm, sweet aroma wafted from the oven.

When the timer beeped, the countdown to the finished pastry hit zero.

Wen Shuyao smiled at Meng Hemian. “It’ll definitely be good!”

She slowly opened the oven…

Then, with a bang, she slammed it shut again.

She stood there motionless, her face full of hesitation, clearly agonizing over how to explain this to her.

Meng Hemian: “…”

She had actually seen it. Inside was one round, perfectly cute red bean cake… and a pile of unidentified expanded matter that looked nothing like a pastry.

As expected, her baking career was dead on arrival.

After a long silence, Wen Shuyao lowered her head dejectedly, like a student who had done something wrong. With her hands behind her back, she muttered, “Did I not explain something clearly?”

Meng Hemian said solemnly, “No, you taught very well.”

It must be her own problem.

Her mindset was stable, failure was common, and this was just another instance of it.

She just couldn’t figure out why, with the same steps, the gap between her result and Wen Shuyao’s was so vast.

Was it a case of “like owner, like pastry”?

“Don’t be sad. This was only the first time; failure is normal.” Wen Shuyao, who had looked devastated just a moment ago, was actually turning around to comfort her.

Meng Hemian thought to herself: I’m not sad.

She nodded very calmly and spoke in a deliberate manner: “It’s fine. It was expected.”

Suddenly, Wen Shuyao seemed to remember something. She turned back, opened the oven, and pulled out the baking tray.

She didn’t mind the heat, picking one out and tossing it from her left hand to her right until it cooled down slightly.

“Eat this one.”

Wen Shuyao held the item out in front of Meng Hemian. On the girl’s reddened palm sat the only normal red bean cake from tonight.

The crust was crispy, the filling was full; it looked delicious.

She squeezed out a sweet smile. “Eat something sweet, and your mood will get better.”

Meng Hemian opened her mouth, but for some reason, her throat felt dry, and she couldn’t squeeze out an explanation.

Why did she… still think I was sad?

Meng Hemian picked up the red bean cake and took a bite.

The taste was also as she expected. Even if the steps were simplified, it didn’t stop it from being perfectly sweet.

Whether it was psychological suggestion or not, she actually felt her mood improve a little.

“Is it good?” Wen Shuyao asked while tidying up the kitchen.

“Yes.”

Meng Hemian thought for a moment and added, “It’s good. The red bean filling is seasoned just right.”

Wen Shuyao seemed a bit embarrassed by the praise, shyly pursing her lips, but the joy spilled into her eyes, making them sparkle.

“Then that’s all for today. See you tomorrow morning?”

Meng Hemian looked away and finished the last bite of the red bean cake.

“Okay. Goodnight.”

A night of sound sleep.

The morning sun filtered through the branches of the plane trees, scattering fragmented light across the ground.

Wen Shuyao stepped through the dappled shadows, skillfully crossing the main street and turning into a dilapidated alley, finally stopping before a wooden door painted pink.

The flower stands were filled with an assortment of plants, daisies and succulents bathed in the sunlight, while a lazy ginger cat dozed in the shade of the blossoms, boredly flicking its tail.

A cat-shaped metal sign hung on the wall.

Miss Cat’s Coffee House.

Even in this small town, there existed such an artistic, boutique style cat cafe.

Wen Shuyao carefully watered every single plant before pushing the door open.

Ding-dong. The wind chimes on the porch chimed. Behind the counter, a person who had been dozing sat up slowly, revealing a charming, sultry face.

Wen Shuyao sat across from her and greeted her obediently: “Good morning, Sister Xiu.”

There were no customers at this hour, leaving only the two of them in the shop.

Tu Shanxiu rested her chin on her hand, her upturned fox like eyes scanning Wen Shuyao repeatedly. She didn’t curl her lips into a smile until the latter sat up straight, looking uneasy.

“So, did you succeed?”

Wen Shuyao tugged at the hem of her skirt. “It’s not that fast…”

“Oh?”

Wen Shuyao lowered her head even further. “I’ve been doing housework seriously making the bed, cooking, trying hard to introduce myself, baking red bean cakes…”

Her voice grew smaller and smaller as she spoke. What little confidence she had was like a balloon, deflating with a sharp hiss.

In front of a Great Fox Demon, these were all petty tricks, hardly worth mentioning.

Sure enough, Tu Shanxiu let out a soft snort. “That’s too slow. Big sister will teach you something faster.”

Wen Shuyao was bewildered. “What’s faster?”

Tu Shanxiu gave an enchanting smile, leaning her red lips close to Wen Shuyao’s ear, emphasizing every word: “Se…duce her.”

Wen Shuyao’s heart skipped a beat.

“That… that wouldn’t be right…”

Just a moment ago, she had nearly been scared into popping her tail out.

But Tu Shanxiu had anticipated her reaction. She lazily switched hands to prop up her chin, her tone indifferent.

“It’s just to test Meng Hemian’s likes and dislikes. What’s wrong with that?”

Wen Shuyao’s eyes widened. Were they even talking about the same thing?

She explained anxiously, “Meng Hemian isn’t that kind of person.”

Tu Shanxiu wouldn’t let it go. “Tsk tsk. Only two days and you’re already speaking up for the human.”

With just a few words, the little rabbit demon was led in circles, desperately trying to fix the holes in her argument.

“No, no, I mean, Meng Hemian is very polite, very gentle, and very patient with small animals. She’s a very good person.”

Just how many times did she use the word “very”?

Tu Shanxiu smirked, the word was starting to lose all meaning.

“Then don’t you want to know what type she likes?” Tu Shanxiu coaxed. “Trust me, even if you don’t take the shortcut, you can at least play to her preferences~”

Play to her preferences?

The bait was too tempting for a rabbit. Wen Shuyao bit her lip, agonizing for a long time before nodding hesitantly.

“Okay.”

Tu Shanxiu, who had been lounging crookedly, suddenly snapped into action.

For a split second, Wen Shuyao even suspected she saw a fluffy fox tail.

The woman in front of her promised confidently, “I’ve prepared several styles for you. There’s bound to be one Meng Hemian likes.”

She pulled a large, pre-prepared paper bag from under the counter.

“Pure White Jasmine.”

She showed Wen Shuyao a chiffon white dress, leather shoes, and lace ribbons.

“Energetic Girl.”

A bright yellow hoodie, athletic high-top socks, and sneakers appeared on the table.

“And of course, the most important: Pure Desire style.”

She pulled out skimpy camisoles, tube dresses, and backless short-sleeved tops, the necklines were all so low they were scandalous.

There was even a leather garter with a metal buckle that looked remarkably like a collar.

Wen Shuyao picked it up, confused. “What is this?”

“A leg ring.”

Wen Shuyao froze. It was unclear what her little brain associated it with, but her gaze gradually began to drift.

“And… what about the pants and shoes?”

Tu Shanxiu was brief: “There aren’t any.”

The young rabbit demon felt as if she’d been burned, quickly dropping the item in her hand.

Moreover, there were clearly many more “Pure Desire” clothes than anything else! Tu Shanxiu was definitely smuggling in her own tastes!

The late spring temperature was pleasant, but she was so flustered that her face turned beet red, she felt hot all over.

Her brain felt like boiling water, bubbling and steaming until she was completely dazed.

Her fingers twisted together, feeling incredibly aggrieved. “But I really don’t know how to…”

She really didn’t know how to seduce anyone.

Wen Shuyao thought back to the rainstorm the other night. Meng Hemian’s calm attitude and her steady way of handling things were incredibly reassuring.

Last night, while the two of them were squeezed into the kitchen practicing kneading dough, Meng Hemian hadn’t shown a hint of impatience.

She seemed able to maintain coolness and restraint at all times; she was the kind of person whose emotions ran very shallow.

It was as if there were a rippleless well inside her heart, cool, clear, and solitary.

Who could ever make the water in that well ripple?

Wen Shuyao bit her lip, suddenly feeling a nameless sense of loss. “She won’t like it.”

“Then how will you survive your Lightning Tribulation?”

Tu Shanxiu tapped the table, advising her earnestly, “I’ve calculated it. Meng Hemian’s destiny is a once in a century occurrence, heavenly lightning cannot touch her. As long as you stay with her, you’ll be safe.”

“You won’t find another chance like this if you miss it.” Her tone was drawn out, like a ticking countdown.

Wen Shuyao shivered slightly. She could only blame her own weak demonic power, she knew how to do nothing but transform, and she couldn’t even survive a Lightning Tribulation.

She didn’t dare look at the clothes on the table, so she covered her face with her hands like an ostrich, her voice muffled.

“I could just turn into a little bunny and act cute to get adopted.”

Tu Shanxiu narrowed her beautiful eyes and laughed mercilessly. “Ha! Unless you want to be a little bunny for the rest of your life.”

A delicious honey cake was baking in the shop, the bitterness of the coffee neutralizing it perfectly. Wen Shuyao took an unconscious breath.

It smelled so good.

She didn’t want to be a little bunny. Meng Hemian, having read the raising guide, would never feed a little bunny honey cake.

She hooked a thin shoulder strap with her finger, drawing circles on the table.

A moment later, Wen Shuyao suddenly stopped her fidgeting. She rapidly stuffed the clothes into the paper bag and pulled the bag into her arms.

Having done this, she buried her face into it. “Ugh..”

The whole rabbit was not okay.