The Cold Heroine Turned Into a Yandere After Being - Chapter 23

Hickeys

The following morning, Mo Zhu woke to a wash of warm sunlight.

She instinctively reached out to the space beside her, only to touch soft, slightly cool sheets the person who should have been lying there was gone.

Mo Zhu snapped awake instantly, her eyes darting to her side.

Sure enough, the other half of the bed was empty, leaving behind nothing but a few lingering creases and a faint, ethereal scent of cold fragrance.

She sat up and scanned the room. The bedroom was deserted, but the light in the bathroom was streaming out.

Mo Zhu climbed out of bed and walked over, coming to a halt just beside the doorframe.

She saw Ji Shubai with her head tilted slightly back, frowning deeply at the mirror.

Reflected in the glass, the woman’s snow-white neck and collarbone were dappled with several ambiguous red marks. Under the bright lights, they were impossible to hide—looking like fallen plum blossom petals against the snow, both striking and evocative.

Ji Shubai’s fingertips absentmindedly brushed over one of the marks, her brow furrowing tighter. Even her lips were pressed together until they turned pale; she was clearly agonizing over how to conceal these overly intimate imprints.

She hadn’t even noticed Mo Zhu’s arrival.

Mo Zhu leaned against the doorframe, watching her quietly for a moment. Then, she straightened up and walked toward her.

Her footsteps were light. It wasn’t until her silhouette appeared in the mirror that the woman before it realized she was there.

Ji Shubai instinctively covered her neck with her hand and turned her head toward Mo Zhu. A flash of startled panic flickered in her eyes before being replaced by a forced, practiced calm.

“Morning.” Her voice carried the slight rasp of someone who had just woken up, an attempt to act as if nothing was wrong.

“Morning,” Mo Zhu replied. Her gaze fell on the hand Ji Shubai was using to hide the marks, her lips curling into a faint arc. “What is Miss Ji doing up so early? Did something bite your neck?”

She spoke with a tone of feigned surprise.

Ji Shubai’s eyelids twitched. “Yes,” she said calmly. “I was bitten by a dog.”

Mo Zhu, now the “dog” in question, chuckled as she took Ji Shubai’s wrist and gently pulled it away. “Well, it seems this ‘dog’ has very specific tastes. Tell me, Miss Ji, did it hurt when the ‘dog’ bit you yesterday?”

Ji Shubai had no desire to dive deeper into this topic. She dodged Mo Zhu’s reaching hand. “I’m done. The space is yours.”

She reached for a tube of concealer on the counter to leave, but Mo Zhu blocked her path, placing a hand against her waist.

“Didn’t you want to hide them? Let me help.” As she spoke, she took the concealer from Ji Shubai’s hand.

As Mo Zhu stepped closer, Ji Shubai instinctively leaned back, trying to maintain some distance. “No need, I can do it myself.”

But Mo Zhu pressed in, refusing to take no for an answer. Her other hand gently steadied Ji Shubai’s shoulder, pinning her between herself and the counter.

“There are some spots you might not be able to see, like right here.” Mo Zhu lightly touched a spot just below her ear. She felt the other woman shrink back instinctively as she turned to look at her reflection.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Mo Zhu opened the lid. She rubbed her warm fingertip against the cool cream to pick up a small amount, then gently dabbed it onto Ji Shubai’s warm, delicate skin.

Her movements were exceptionally tender, dabbing and blending the marks with the focus of a craftsman restoring a precious work of art.

Since things had already reached this point, Ji Shubai stopped resisting. She tilted her head back slightly, allowing the other woman to mask those mottled traces.

However, the process felt excruciatingly long, and every light touch felt vivid and sharp.

Especially after last night, it felt as though something had shifted between them. Even a simple glance or a minor gesture now felt heavy with hidden meaning.

Ji Shubai leaned her hand against the marble countertop behind her; the cold stone helped dissipate some of the heat in her palm.

In the mirror, Ji Shubai—with her neck exposed—was gently encircled in the arms of a messy-haired Mo Zhu. It was a picture that looked more possessive than any hickey ever could.

Mo Zhu’s gaze shifted from the marks to Ji Shubai’s lowered lashes, and then to her softly pursed lips. Her movements slowed.

Sensing something, Ji Shubai suddenly looked up, her eyes crashing into Mo Zhu’s. She looked away almost immediately.

“Is it done?” Ji Shubai’s voice was unsteady.

Mo Zhu’s fingertip grazed her collarbone one last time perhaps by accident, perhaps out of reluctance to let go. “All done,” she whispered, finally breaking the semi-embrace.

Ji Shubai stared at the sudden distance between them before turning to the mirror to inspect the result.

The concealer worked wonders. Those ambiguous traces were now hidden beneath a mask, as if they had never happened at all.

“Thank you,” Ji Shubai said before leaving the room.

Mo Zhu placed her hand under the faucet, washing the leftover cream from her fingertip. The water washed away the lingering warmth as well.

After cleaning up, she used her damp hands to casually tie up her hair.

“Xiao Ta, what’s the favorability status?”

Good morning! I’ve checked for you. The female lead’s current favorability is 65.

For the first time, a look of genuine doubt crossed Mo Zhu’s face. “Are you sure you aren’t malfunctioning?”

Please don’t worry! We perform an automatic scan every three days. I just finished one last night, and there are absolutely no issues.

Mo Zhu leaned over, cupping a handful of water to splash on her face. “Go run a self-diagnostic again. Right now.”

Unless the system was broken, she couldn’t understand it.

Given those moments last night when the other woman clearly lost control. how could that possibly look like a “barely passing” favorability score?

Xiao Ta, sensing her confusion, offered an explanation.

Please don’t be overly concerned. Favorability can fluctuate within a certain range. I can only provide the score for the current moment. Besides, we still have plenty of time.

It was the kind of answer that said a lot without actually saying anything.

Mo Zhu ignored it and continued her morning routine.

The trip back, originally scheduled for yesterday, had been pushed to this afternoon. After messaging her cousin, Mo Zhu set off on the return journey with Ji Shubai.

Ji Shubai seemed exhausted throughout the trip, while Mo Zhu appeared preoccupied.

She felt a sense of irritability; this feeling of being unable to fully control or clearly interpret the situation made her uncomfortable. She hated being stuck, especially when she couldn’t find a breakthrough.

When Assistant Xiang picked up her boss, she was greeted by a woman with a very somber expression.

After Ji Shubai got into the car, she realized Mo Zhu wasn’t joining her.

“I’m going to the office with Xiang. You go home first.”

Ji Shubai hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

Mo Zhu watched Ji Shubai leave, then climbed into the car driven by Assistant Xiang.

Xiang glanced at her boss, who had closed her eyes the moment she sat down. “President Mo, would you like to go home and rest for a bit before heading to the office?”

“No need,” Mo Zhu replied.

The cabin fell into silence, save for the steady hum of the engine.

Mo Zhu kept her eyes closed, her finger absentmindedly tapping the leather armrest.

Assistant Xiang observed her boss through the rearview mirror. It was rare to see her looking so troubled. This wasn’t a work problem; it was something more personal, a mood that was hard to pin down.

After a long while, Mo Zhu spoke, her voice devoid of emotion. “Xiang, let me ask you a question.”

“Of course, President Mo,” the assistant replied, instantly sharpening her focus.

“Suppose,” Mo Zhu started, weighing her words carefully with her eyes still closed, as if discussing a trivial hypothetical. “You completed a very difficult project. The other party’s performance… well, they seemed quite satisfied, perhaps even invested. But the post-project evaluation report shows that their satisfaction level is only just above the passing line. What would you think?”

Assistant Xiang paused, caught off guard by a question that sounded like work but felt strangely offbeat.

She thought for a moment before answering cautiously. “I suppose it depends on what the specific indicators for ‘performance’ and ‘evaluation’ are. Sometimes, positive feedback during the process might stem from emotional fluctuations in a specific setting, or perhaps… an instantaneous reaction.”

Mo Zhu’s tapping stopped. “An instantaneous reaction?” she repeated, her tone subtle.

“But those are just analogies based on business projects,” Assistant Xiang added tentatively. “If it’s a personal relationship, it’s probably much more complex. There are more variables, making it harder to measure with a simple score.”

“What variables?”

Assistant Xiang thought hard. “The things you say, and the things you do for them… those would all be variables, I think.”

“The things you do for them?”

Hearing this, it occurred to Mo Zhu that she had never really done anything for Ji Shubai.

From the beginning until now, aside from necessary plot points or her own needs, she had maintained a hands-off attitude toward Ji Shubai’s affairs.

The teacher Ji Shubai had run into, the issues with her studio, her daily life—Mo Zhu hadn’t involved herself in any of it.

Perhaps that was where the problem lay.

Seeing that her boss had fallen silent, Assistant Xiang wisely stopped talking and focused on the road.

The car glided toward the office as the city scenery blurred past the windows.

Mo Zhu kept her eyes shut, but Xiang’s words echoed in her mind.

She had certainly said a lot to Ji Shubai, but most of it was teasing or verbal sparring. As for “doing things,” she really hadn’t.

Strangely, the inexplicable irritability in her heart dissipated, replaced by a clear sense of purpose.

She took out her phone, her finger hovering over the screen for a moment before she decided against making a call.

The car had already entered the company parking garage when Mo Zhu suddenly spoke. “Turn around. Go back.”

“President Mo? Back where?”

Mo Zhu gave the name of the complex where Ji Shubai lived.

Assistant Xiang’s professional training meant she didn’t hesitate for a second. She spun the steering wheel, and the car made a sharp turn at the next exit.

Meanwhile, Secretary Han, who had been waiting by the parking spot, watched as the car approached only to see it pull a U-turn and drive away before she could even take a step forward.

Secretary Han: “…”

What was that? Did she just come here to take a tour of the parking lot?

Mo Zhu returned home to find the lights on, but no one in sight.

She put down her things and changed her shoes. She hesitated briefly at the doors before finally standing in front of her own bedroom and opening it.

A dim light bathed the head of the bed, outlining the silhouette of the person lying there.

Mo Zhu didn’t know how to describe her current mood, but her heart felt light, as if filled with soft cotton.

She walked over and quietly pulled the woman into her arms, doing what she hadn’t managed to do the night before.

Woken up, Ji Shubai opened her tired eyes but didn’t push her away.

“Miss Ji, do you want to go back to school?”

Though confused by the sudden question, Ji Shubai answered patiently. “My leave of absence isn’t over yet. I can’t just return.”

She had applied for a full year of leave.

“You only need to consider if you want to,” Mo Zhu said.

Ji Shubai frowned. “What are you trying to do?”

“Can’t you tell, Miss Ji? I’m trying to learn how to be good to you.”

A hint of clarity returned to Ji Shubai’s eyes. “Why do you want to be good to me?”

“Haven’t I said it before?” Mo Zhu ran her fingers through the long hair scattered on the pillow. She leaned down close to the shell of the other woman’s ear, her voice soft and tender. “Because I like you, Miss Ji.”

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