She’s Being Naughty - Chapter 3

A few more days passed.

During this time, Xu Zhaoyi stayed in her room, rarely venturing downstairs except to eat. Even then, she only crept into the kitchen when Jiang Yao wasn’t around to grab something quick or she’d simply order takeout to the front gate and fetch it herself.

She didn’t want to run into that woman again.

Every time she saw Jiang Yao, she would remember the words from that morning, that look of a victor, and that plate of finished, burnt fried eggs.

The more she thought about it, the more stifled and aggrieved she felt.

That afternoon, she woke up from a nap feeling bored and decided to head out for a bit. But when she opened her wardrobe, something felt off.

She had a lot of clothes, all meticulously organized by color and season. Coats on the left, dresses in the middle, tops and pants on the right. They were arranged neatly from light to dark.

Today, however, something that didn’t belong had crept into the row of dark coats on the left.

She reached out, pushed aside a black trench coat, and froze.

It was a nightgown.

Silk, burgundy, with spaghetti straps, the hem ending about ten centimeters above the knee. The fabric was so thin it was almost translucent. Amidst the somber blacks of the wardrobe, this splash of red looked like a stray drop of blood.

And it wasn’t hers.

Xu Zhaoyi almost never wore silk pajamas; she found them uncomfortable for sleeping. Her pajamas were all pure cotton, oversized and focused on comfort. Her color palette consisted mostly of whites, grays and blues, she definitely didn’t own anything in such a glaring burgundy.

She reached out and pulled the nightgown out.

It felt slippery and cool in her hand, like holding a handful of water. Then, a scent hit her.

It was faint but distinct, a perfume she had become far too familiar with over the past few days.

It was Jiang Yao’s scent.

That smell of morning white roses mixed with a cool, lingering sweetness was now radiating from this thin nightgown, snaking into her nose and down into her lungs.

She even noticed a few tiny wrinkles near the chest area, as if someone had recently slept in it.

A surge of fury rushed to the top of Xu Zhaoyi’s head.

This woman did this on purpose, didn’t she?

Purposely putting her nightgown in Zhaoyi’s closet? Purposely letting her see it? Purposely letting her smell that scent?

What was she trying to do? Assert her dominance? Tell her that in this house, even the wardrobes no longer had boundaries?

Xu Zhaoyi slammed the wardrobe door shut, grabbed the nightgown, and stormed out.

She didn’t even change. Still in her loungewear, hair messy over her shoulders, she ran barefoot across the hallway floor, the thud-thud-thud of her footsteps echoing all the way to the third floor.

The door to the master bedroom was shut.

She raised her hand to pound on it, but her movement faltered just before her hand hit the wood.

The door wasn’t locked, it was slightly ajar.

From inside came the faint sound of running water and a woman humming. The tune was light and soft, a song in a foreign language she didn’t recognize.

Jiang Yao was taking a shower.

Xu Zhaoyi’s grip on the nightgown tightened. She hesitated for three seconds before pushing the door open and walking in.

The bedroom was large, decorated in the style her father liked: dark solid wood furniture, heavy carpets, and several landscape paintings on the walls. The bed was made with deep blue sheets, the duvet folded neatly.

The bathroom door was closed, but a figure was visible behind the frosted glass.

Blurred, curvaceous, swaying gently with every movement.

Xu Zhaoyi looked away, her gaze landing on the slippers on the floor.

Two pairs. One pair of deep blue men’s slippers, and one pair of light pink women’s slippers, placed side by side. Nearby sat a small vanity covered in bottles and jars, all from the same brand of fragrance she had been smelling on Jiang Yao.

She took a deep breath and was about to call out when the bathroom door suddenly opened.

First came the steam, then the fragrance, and then a woman wrapped in a towel.

Jiang Yao clearly hadn’t expected anyone to be there. She stopped at the doorway, one hand clutching the towel to her chest while the other dried her hair with a cloth.

The towel was white, ending just an inch above her knees, revealing slender arms and straight calves. Her wet hair draped over her shoulders, droplets of water sliding down her neck and disappearing into the deep valley of her cleavage.

She wore no makeup. Her skin was translucent white, and her eyes appeared darker and brighter due to the steam, her lashes still clinging to tiny beads of water.

“Zhao Zhao?” She blinked, looking a bit surprised, then smiled. “Do you need something?”

Her voice carried the languor of a post-bath glow, soft as water soaked marshmallows.

Xu Zhaoyi opened her mouth, but suddenly found herself at a loss for words.

She looked down at the burgundy nightgown in her hand, then back at the towel clad Jiang Yao. Her brain felt like it was short circuiting.

“This,” she held the nightgown up, her voice stiff. “Is this yours?”

Jiang Yao squinted at it, then let out an “Ah” of realization. “It is mine. How did it end up with you?”

“It was in my wardrobe,” Xu Zhaoyi gritted her teeth. “Why?”

“In your wardrobe?” Jiang Yao tilted her head, looking genuinely confused. “How could… oh, I remember now.”

She set down her towel and walked toward Xu Zhaoyi.

Her legs beneath the towel were long and straight, her footsteps silent on the carpet. As she reached Xu Zhaoyi, the scent of body wash mixed with steam washed over Zhaoyi, stronger and more real than the scent on the nightgown.

“A few days ago, when the housekeeper was tidying the rooms, I asked her to collect the laundry,” Jiang Yao explained softly, reaching out to take the nightgown. “She must have made a mistake, gathered this in, and then put it back in the wrong closet. I’m so sorry.”

She spoke logically, her expression so natural that no fault could be found.

Xu Zhaoyi stared at her.

Jiang Yao stared back, her eyes clear, innocent, and even slightly apologetic. The neckline of the towel was a bit loose, revealing a patch of porcelain skin at her collarbone and the rising curve of her chest.

“I see.” Xu Zhaoyi twitched the corner of her mouth. “Then pay more attention in the future. Keep track of your own things and don’t leave them lying around.”

“Mhm, I will,” Jiang Yao nodded. She paused, her gaze sweeping over Xu Zhaoyi’s chest, her voice dropping lower. “Actually, Zhao Zhao, you’d probably look good in this color too.”

Xu Zhaoyi followed her gaze downward.

The loungewear she was wearing was a loose white T-shirt with a wide neckline. Because she had run so fast, one side had slipped down, exposing half of her shoulder and collarbone.

She abruptly yanked the collar back up and took a step back.

“Who would want to wear your nightgown?” Her voice trembled slightly, whether from anger or something else, she didn’t know. “Just take it.”

“Okay.” Jiang Yao smiled and turned to set the nightgown aside.

But the moment she turned, a corner of her towel suddenly loosened.

Xu Zhaoyi didn’t even see what happened, she only saw the white towel flare out like a petal, revealing half of a back as smooth as jade and the startlingly beautiful curve of her waist.

Jiang Yao let out a small gasp, hurriedly clutching the towel back together. When she looked back, her face was flushed with a rosy tint.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her lashes lowered in a display of bashful embarrassment. “I didn’t scare you, did I?”

Xu Zhaoyi stood there, blood rushing to her head.

She suddenly felt the room was too hot, the air too thin. It was getting hard to breathe.

“I’m leaving,” she threw out those three words and turned to bolt.

As she reached the door, she heard Jiang Yao call out softly behind her, “Zhao Zhao.”

She paused but didn’t look back.

“Next time before you come in, you could try knocking first,” Jiang Yao’s voice carried a hint of a smile, it was unclear if it was a reminder or a tease. “It would be so awkward if I were in the middle of changing.”

Xu Zhaoyi said nothing and slammed the door hard behind her.

Back in her own room, the first thing Xu Zhaoyi did was rush to the bathroom, turn on the faucet, and splash cold water over her face.

The cold water helped lower her temperature slightly.

She leaned against the sink, looking at the girl in the mirror: flushed face, messy hair, collar slipping off her shoulder.

The image from moments ago flashed uncontrollably in her mind.

The white towel, the wet hair, the slipping fabric, and that bare back.

She closed her eyes.

Crazy. I must be going crazy.

At dinner, Xu Zhaoyi didn’t go downstairs.

She ordered takeout to her room, ate a few bites, opened a bottle of red wine, and curled up on the sofa to watch a variety show.

The show was funny, the host was teasing guests, and the audience was roaring with laughter. Xu Zhaoyi stared at the screen, but she couldn’t laugh at all.

After drinking over half the bottle, her head felt a bit fuzzy.

She got up to take a shower, and as she passed the door, her gaze instinctively brushed over the trash can in the corner.

She froze.

The burgundy silk nightgown was sitting quietly in the trash.

She only then remembered that when she had left Jiang Yao’s room earlier, she had snatched the gown back (or kept it) and tossed it in. At the time, she thought such a “unlucky” thing belonged in the trash.

But now, with the light from the hallway filtering in, that splash of burgundy in the white trash bag looked exceptionally piercing.

Xu Zhaoyi shook her head, thinking she had probably drunk too much.

During her shower, she purposefully turned the water to a cold setting, hoping to wash away those chaotic images in her mind.

She washed for a long time, so long her skin began to prune before finally turning off the tap.

Drying off and changing into clean pajamas, she stepped out of the bathroom but found herself, as if possessed, looking at the trash can once more.

The nightgown was still there.

She stood still, staring at it for a long time.

A voice in her head said: What are you looking at? It’s just a piece of clothing. The housekeeper will take it away tomorrow morning.

But another voice said: It’s silk. It’s burgundy. It smells like her.

Xu Zhaoyi took a deep breath and went back to bed.

Lights off. Lying down. Eyes closed.

But she couldn’t sleep.

In the darkness, that perfume seemed to waft over again. Not from the trash can, but from her memory, from the hand that had held the gown that afternoon.

She tossed and turned, burying her face in the pillow.

Still, sleep wouldn’t come.

After struggling for nearly an hour, she sat up abruptly and clicked on the bedside lamp.

The dim yellow light filled the room.

She walked barefoot to the trash can.

The burgundy silk shimmered softly under the lamp, looking like a pool of melted wine.

She stared for a few seconds, then reached out and fished it out of the trash.

Her movements were quick, like a thief’s.

The nightgown was light, weightless in her hand like a cloud. That fragrance filled her nose again, faint, persistent, as if it had seeped into every fiber.

She stood there holding the gown, her mind a complete blank.

She had taken it out.

Now what?

Give it back? Put it in the closet? Throw it away again?

She looked down at the soft fabric, suddenly remembering Jiang Yao’s words.

“You’d probably look good in this color too.”

Good, my foot.

There was no way she would ever wear something like this.

Xu Zhaoyi gritted her teeth, walked to the window, and prepared to hurl it outside.

But her hand stopped mid-air.

Throwing things in the middle of the night? What if it hits someone? What if the security patrol sees?

She stood there holding the nightgown for a while before finally closing the window.

Forget it.

She turned and tossed the nightgown haphazardly onto the chair next to her desk, then scrambled back into bed, turned off the light, and pulled up the covers.

In the darkness, she could feel the nightgown lying on the chair…

Radiating a fragrance that only she could smell.

She closed her eyes and buried her face deep into the pillow.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, she would definitely throw it away.

Definitely.