The Cold Heroine Turned Into a Yandere After Being - Chapter 29

Pillow Talk

After picking up the medicine prescribed by the doctor, the two of them left the hospital together.

“I’ll drop you home first,” Ji Shubai said.

Mo Zhu, who was busy inspecting the contents of the medicine bag, looked up. “And what about you? Are you planning to drive back here after dropping me off?”

Ji Shubai’s silence was a silent admission.

“Isn’t that just a waste of time? Besides” Mo Zhu raised her injured arm, “you saw it yourself. It’s hard for me to even carry things right now. Living alone will be even more difficult. And what did the doctor say? She told us to monitor me overnight. What if something happens to me in the middle of the night?”

Sure enough, as soon as she finished speaking, a look of hesitation crossed Ji Shubai’s face. Mo Zhu struck while the iron was hot. “So, does Miss Ji really have the heart to leave me all alone at home?”

Ji Shubai could tell she was playing the pity card, yet she found herself unable to voice a rejection.

In the end, Mo Zhu got her wish and followed Ji Shubai back to her apartment.

Before they headed upstairs, Ji Shubai couldn’t help but warn her one last time. “Just listen to whatever I say later. Do not say anything reckless in front of my mother.”

“Sure thing. But you know my rules, Miss Ji,” Mo Zhu said with a smile. “I’ll allow you to put this on your tab.”

Ji Shubai glanced at her but didn’t respond, which Mo Zhu took as tacit consent.

With permission granted, Mo Zhu felt like she could climb those six flights of stairs in high heels without feeling a hint of fatigue.

They reached the apartment quickly. Upon entering, they found Ji’s mother sitting in the living room; she stood up immediately when she heard them.

“You’re back! How is it? Is it serious?” She walked over, looking at the wound on Mo Zhu’s forehead with deep concern.

“Thank you for your concern, Auntie. The doctor said it’s nothing serious.” Even though Mo Zhu often seemed flippant, she had a keen sense of social boundaries and knew how to handle interpersonal interactions without making others feel uncomfortable.

Thinking Mo Zhu might just be downplaying it to spare her feelings, Ji’s mother turned to her daughter for confirmation.

Ji Shubai, who was currently finding a pair of clean slippers for Mo Zhu, finally spoke. “It’s really not a big deal.”

Hearing this, Ji’s mother finally let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. Come in and sit down.”

The three of them walked further into the room.

The moment Mo Zhu sat, Ji’s mother handed her a glass of warm water. Mo Zhu took it and thanked her politely.

Ji’s mother sat down nearby, her gaze darting back and forth between the two young women. “I don’t believe I know your name and your relationship with Shubai is?”

Ji Shubai’s heart tightened. She cut in quickly, her tone carefully neutral. “Mom, this is Mo Zhu. She’s the roommate I told you about, and she’s also my current colleague.”

Mo Zhu held the warm glass, thinking that, in a way, everything Ji Shubai said was technically true.

“I see.” Ji’s mother’s eyes lingered on Mo Zhu’s well-tailored, high-quality suit. Having worked and interacted with many people over the years, she could tell that her daughter’s “colleague” was wearing clothes and jewelry that were far from cheap—not something an average person would wear.

She caught a glimpse of her daughter’s slightly uneasy expression, her gaze filled with silent scrutiny and speculation, though she maintained a gentle smile. “No wonder I haven’t seen you before. I’m truly sorry about today. But. why were you in Shubai’s room?”

Finally, the million-dollar question. Mo Zhu lowered her glass and glanced at Ji Shubai, wondering if she should speak up.

“She happened to be passing by today,” Ji Shubai explained. “I had a draft for a project that I needed to review with her, so I invited her over. You and Cheng Chen had just gone out when she arrived, so you missed her.”

“Yes, Auntie. We were inside discussing work details,” Mo Zhu added, giving Ji’s mother a radiant smile.

“Then why did only Shubai come out when we returned?” Ji’s mother pressed.

Ji Shubai pursed her lips for a fraction of a second before saying with a straight face, “She’s extremely shy. She tends to have a ‘reaction’ when she encounters strangers.”

“?” The wide, confident smile on Mo Zhu’s face froze instantly. She silently raised a hand to cover her mouth, manually resetting her expression.

Calling her “sick,” yet she couldn’t even talk back.

“Is that so?” Ji’s mother seemed genuinely surprised. Looking at Mo Zhu, she never would have guessed she was the type to be afraid of people.

Forced to hide her smile and act the part of a sullen, silent patient, Mo Zhu muttered, “Mm.”

Ji’s mother remained skeptical, but she didn’t feel right pressing further. If it were true, continuing the interrogation would be incredibly insensitive.

In one move, Ji Shubai had claimed the moral high ground.

“And since the doctor said she needs to be monitored tonight, I’ve asked her to stay over. She’ll head back tomorrow,” Ji Shubai continued.

Ji’s mother almost brought up her daughter’s germaphobia, but then she remembered that Shubai had already let this woman into her room. Besides, Mo Zhu was in this state because of her. She could only nod and say, “That’s only right.”

The interrogation finally ended. Since none of them had eaten yet, Ji’s mother suggested cooking something, but Ji Shubai stopped her, saying it would be faster to order in.

Mo Zhu wanted to use her phone to order, but it was still dead, so she had to leave the task to Ji Shubai.

While waiting for the food, Ji Shubai led Mo Zhu back to her room, claiming she needed to apply the medicine.

Only after the door was closed, shielding them from the living room, did Ji Shubai let out a long, weary sigh.

Mo Zhu leaned against the desk, watching her look as if she were facing a formidable enemy. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is Miss Ji really that nervous?”

“My mother looks like she only half-believes me,” Ji Shubai shot her a look. “You need to restrain yourself.”

“I think I’ve been very restrained,” Mo Zhu countered.

For the first time, Ji Shubai actually agreed with her. Mo Zhu had indeed behaved herself quite well out there.

She walked over and stood in front of Mo Zhu, gesturing toward the chair with a tilt of her chin. “Sit.”

“Hmm?” Mo Zhu raised an eyebrow.

“I’m applying your medicine. The forehead first.” As she spoke, Ji Shubai switched on the desk lamp.

Mo Zhu sat down obediently and tilted her face up. The light traced the smooth line of her jaw and the vivid bruise on her temple.

Ji Shubai unscrewed the cap of the iodine and soaked a cotton swab in the brown liquid.

She stood very close. Her faint, clean scent drifted around Mo Zhu’s nose.

“Tell me if it hurts.” Ji Shubai’s voice was lower than usual. Her fingertips carefully avoided the wound as she brushed the stray hairs away from Mo Zhu’s forehead.

The gesture forced her to lean in, their breaths almost mingling at such close range.

As the cool swab touched the wound, Mo Zhu’s eyelashes flickered almost imperceptibly, but she made no sound.

“Does it hurt?” Ji Shubai froze immediately, her brow furrowing as she instinctively leaned even closer.

When she spoke, her warm breath brushed against the bruise, creating a strange, delicate sensation that was a mix of stinging pain and a lingering tingle.

Mo Zhu looked up, her gaze crashing straight into Ji Shubai’s.

Those eyes, usually so cold and detached, were now filled with focused concentration and a hint of worry she hadn’t managed to hide. In the lamp’s glow, Mo Zhu could see her own reflection clearly in them.

They were so close that she could see the slight quiver of Ji’s lashes and the soft texture of her lips.

Mo Zhu could even feel the faint movement of air as Ji Shubai breathed.

Her gaze lingered on Ji’s features—from the slight frown to the bridge of her nose before finally settling on the lips so close to her own.

“Miss Ji.”

“Mm.” Ji Shubai seemed entirely focused on the wound, meticulously applying the iodine to every corner.

“You haven’t answered me. Were you worried about me today?”

She could feel the movement on her temple slow down.

“Does it matter that much to you?” Ji Shubai asked.

“Of course it does.” Mo Zhu thought to herself that everything she had done lately was for this very purpose.

Ji Shubai finished the iodine and reached for a clean swab to apply the ointment once the iodine dried.

Just as Mo Zhu thought she was going to be met with silence again, Ji Shubai let out an extremely faint “Mm.”

Receiving a response, Mo Zhu immediately pushed for more. “Why were you worried?”

Ji Shubai could feel Mo Zhu’s gaze pinned to her face. It felt heavy and physical, making the skin from her cheeks to her neck feel slightly feverish.

She forced herself to focus on the task at hand. “Because you are my ‘boss’.”

“And if I weren’t your ‘boss’?”

Ji Shubai’s expression turned solemn. “Then our paths would never have crossed.”

Given their usual life trajectories, they would have had no reason to meet, let alone become deeply involved.

Mo Zhu used her uninjured hand to toy with a lock of hair on Ji’s shoulder. “Miss Ji, please don’t hypothesize about things that don’t exist.”

“Weren’t you the one who started the ‘what if’?” Ji Shubai looked at her, puzzled.

“But my hypothesis does exist,” Mo Zhu said.

After she spoke, she saw Ji Shubai freeze for a moment. She knew the clever woman understood exactly what she meant.

“I just want to focus on the present.” There was no emotion in Ji Shubai’s voice, but she felt a sudden, suffocating tightness in her chest.

Mo Zhu’s fingers slowly traced the lock of hair upward until she was gently kneading the back of Ji’s neck. “Did you forget something, Miss Ji? I am your present.”

The air in the room grew thick and still, leaving only the sound of their intertwined breathing.

Finally, Mo Zhu broke the tension by changing the subject. “Have you thought about going back to school?”

Ji Shubai set down the cotton swab. “Even if President Mo is powerful enough to make it happen,” she paused, “I don’t have the energy or time for my studies right now.”

After her mother had been scammed, her first instinct had been to use every cent she had to plug the hole left behind, eventually selling off all her assets.

By the time Ji Shubai found out, there was almost nothing left, and they were drowning in debt.

She had immediately consulted a lawyer, who explained that concealing bankruptcy and debt constitutes fraud, and she could apply to have the marriage annulled.

However, the statute of limitations for annulment is one year from the discovery of the fraud, and sufficient evidence is required.

By the time Ji Shubai learned the truth, the year had already passed. The court rejected the request. Furthermore, because her mother had paid off some of the debt under pressure, it was viewed as an acknowledgment of the debt, making further legal recourse extremely difficult.

When all this was laid out before her, she had, for a moment, truly hated her mother—hated her stupidity, her softness, and her inability to learn from her mistakes.

But she also remembered how her mother, even while sinking into the mire, had tried to push her only daughter away from the danger. Ji Shubai couldn’t keep hating her.

In short, everything was a tangled mess.

What Ji Shubai needed to pay back now were the separate loans her mother had taken out to appease the original creditors. On top of that, hiring a reliable and capable legal team would cost a fortune.

In her current state, she had no room in her mind for school, nor any standing to consider hypothetical scenarios.

Ji Shubai pulled herself back to reality. “Take off your coat. I need to treat your arm.”

Mo Zhu followed her instructions again, removing her coat and rolling up her sleeve.

The bruise on her arm had deepened in color, with purplish patches forming—a stark contrast to the surrounding skin.

Mo Zhu watched the focused Ji Shubai and let out a soft sigh. “Miss Ji, should I call you foolish or clever?”

Ji Shubai frowned, confused.

Mo Zhu turned her palm over and caught Ji’s hand.

Ji’s fingertips were cool, but her palm was warm.

“Don’t move, I’m almost done.” Ji Shubai wanted to finish applying the medicine and tried to pull her hand away, but as soon as she moved, Mo Zhu hissed in pain. Afraid of hurting her further, she didn’t dare use much force.

Having succeeded, Mo Zhu squeezed her hand, a smile dancing in her eyes. “Miss Ji, when you encounter a problem, don’t you know how to ask your ‘boss’ for help? Even Assistant Xiang comes to complain to me when she can’t solve something.”

“You’ve already helped me enough.” After all, that help was the only reason they were standing here together.

“Do you want me to teach you what ‘pillow talk’ really means?” Mo Zhu let go of her hand and reached for her waist.

Ever the pragmatist, Ji Shubai used the opening to finish applying the ointment.

Mo Zhu looked at her treated arm. Just as she was about to pull Ji in to whisper in her ear, her face was suddenly cupped by two hands.

“?” Mo Zhu looked up at Ji Shubai, who was leaning over her.

“Didn’t you want compensation?” Ji Shubai said, looking directly into her eyes.

Mo Zhu blinked, her lips curling upward.

“President Mo, please close your eyes,” Ji Shubai murmured, her steady tone wrapped in warm breath.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

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