The Cold Heroine Turned Into a Yandere After Being - Chapter 9

Warm-up Exercise

For a fleeting moment, Mo Zhu thought she had misheard. Once the initial shock faded, a far more complex emotion took its place.

Ji Shubai’s proactive stance in fulfilling their agreement was more direct and far bolder than she had anticipated. By discarding her usual passive, waiting mode and coming forward like this, Ji Shubai had effectively handed over the power of choice. It appeared to be a weak position, but in reality, she was forcing Mo Zhu to step into the very path she had laid out.

Mo Zhu stared at her fixedly, the corners of her lips curling into a faint, imperceptible arc. If Ji Shubai thought she could win a contest of shamelessness, she had seriously underestimated her opponent.

Stepping aside to clear the way, Mo Zhu kept her voice deliberately steady. “Of course. Please, come in.”

Ji Shubai’s hand, hanging at her side, gave her pajamas a quick, nervous tug before letting go. She stepped into the room.

Leaning against the doorframe, Mo Zhu casually closed the door. The soft click of the lock caused Ji Shubai’s already stiff back to freeze, though she didn’t turn around.

Mo Zhu suppressed a smile. She wanted to see exactly how long this newfound courage of Ji Shubai’s would last.

With great interest, she watched Ji Shubai walk further in. The woman’s gaze swept quickly across the master bedroom before finally landing on the oversized bed. Her lips pressed together tightly, her thoughts unreadable.

As Mo Zhu followed her line of sight, her peripheral vision caught something on the nightstand that made her heart sink.

That drawer.

When she had rushed to put the photo back after the knock at the door, she had given it a careless shove. To her dismay, it hadn’t closed completely, leaving a gap about a finger’s width wide. Under the soft glow of the ceiling light, a corner of that photograph was visible.

Mo Zhu intended for her to find that photo, but not yet.

Ji Shubai was already filled with defensiveness; a sudden “discovery” at this moment would feel forced and suspicious. As she saw Ji Shubai’s wandering eyes about to drift toward the nightstand, alarm bells rang in Mo Zhu’s head. Every calculated thought was instantly replaced by a sharp, instinctive urge.

She couldn’t let her see it.

“Miss Ji,” she blurted out, her voice carrying a hint of urgency she hadn’t intended.

Ji Shubai turned instinctively, her face etched with confusion. As Mo Zhu closed the distance, Ji Shubai took a startled step back, failing to notice her own footing.

The edge of the thick rug beside the bed had somehow bunched up into a small, unnoticed ridge. Tripping over it, Ji Shubai’s composure finally shattered into a look of sheer panic as she lost her balance.

Mo Zhu reacted almost instantly. She reached out to grab Ji Shubai’s arm while simultaneously trying to block the view of the drawer. However, she was moving too fast. With her mind entirely focused on that damned drawer, she didn’t watch her own feet.

Mo Zhu’s toe caught the exact same fold in the rug.

Already off-balance from trying to catch Ji Shubai, Mo Zhu lost control and lunged forward. Because Ji Shubai was facing her and they were so close, Mo Zhu’s momentum combined with her reaching hands, turned into a forceful push.

“Ugh!”

Caught off guard, Ji Shubai felt a heavy force slam into her, sending her stumbling back several steps. Together, they tumbled onto the wide, soft bed with a muffled thump.

In an impressive display of multitasking, Mo Zhu managed to use her heel to kick the drawer shut during the fall, the sound of it closing buried under the commotion of their landing.

Mo Zhu ended up on top, pinning Ji Shubai beneath her.

Time seemed to freeze.

Her arms were braced on either side of Ji Shubai’s body, and her cheek was nearly brushed against the crook of the other woman’s neck. Mo Zhu could clearly feel the soft, warm body beneath her. She could smell the faint fragrance of Ji Shubai’s hair, mixed with that peculiar scent she had noticed once before.

She hadn’t been able to identify it last time, but with this much proximity, she recognized it: the scent of traditional Chinese medicine. She remembered that Ji Shubai’s mother was in poor health and was taking herbal decoctions. Ji Shubai must have gone to see her earlier today.

Mo Zhu lifted her head slightly. Below her, Ji Shubai was clearly dazed by the fall. Her breathing was ragged, her warm breath fluttering against Mo Zhu’s ear. Her eyes were wide with shock, reflecting Mo Zhu’s face at point-blank range.

They remained tangled together, sinking into the soft bedding in a posture that was as clumsy as it was intimate. Neither moved. The air felt thick and heavy, like heated honey.

Mo Zhu could hear the frantic drumming of her own heart—thump, thump, thump—resounding in her chest. The sensation was foreign and strange. She quickly brushed it off as a result of the scare—after all, the photo was almost discovered and they had just engaged in a “warm-up exercise.” Why wouldn’t her heart be racing?

Mo Zhu’s arms, which had been trembling slightly from the exertion, slowly steadied.

As for Ji Shubai, the initial shock gave way to a creeping stiffness. Mo Zhu watched as she turned her head away to break eye contact. Her exposed neck was taut, like a bowstring pulled to its limit.

With her head turned, Ji Shubai’s long lashes cast shadows over her eyes, hiding her emotions. She looked like a portrait of resignation—completely surrendered.

Instead of getting up, Mo Zhu used her vantage point to lock her gaze onto Ji Shubai’s profile. In the lamplight, the woman’s fair skin seemed to glow. Her small earlobes were tinged with a faint pink that bled down to the nape of her neck.

Mo Zhu watched her with such intensity that her gaze felt physical, slowly tracing over Ji Shubai’s closed eyelids, her trembling lashes, and her pressed lips.

The silence grew thick.

Finally, Ji Shubai seemed unable to endure the silent scrutiny any longer. Her fingers curled into the sheets, and her throat moved in a barely perceptible swallow.

Mo Zhu finally pushed herself up, creating space between them. Even as she moved, her eyes never left Ji Shubai’s face, as if she were admiring a piece of fragile porcelain—or observing the minute reactions of prey.

Her voice, carrying a lingering, deliberate huskiness from her racing heart, was sharp and clear. “Miss Ji, are you ready then?”

“Yes,” Ji Shubai whispered, her response short and evasive.

Mo Zhu reached out, her movement as natural as brushing away a speck of dust. Her fingertips lightly brushed against the stray strands of hair on the pillow, grazing the edge of that pink-tinged ear. She felt the person beneath her flinch.

Mo Zhu let out a soft chuckle. “Miss Ji, lying is a bad habit.”

She withdrew her hand and moved away. “This sort of thing requires mutual willingness. I don’t enjoy forcing people.”

Ji Shubai remained lying on her side, her lashes casting small shadows that hid the turmoil in her eyes. Only her ear, where the fingertip had touched, felt a lingering, burning tingle.

“I am not unwilling,” Ji Shubai said, opening her eyes.

“And yet you’re afraid of me even getting close. Your body doesn’t lie.” Mo Zhu’s gaze lingered on Ji Shubai’s fluttering lashes for a moment before dropping to her pale lips.

Ji Shubai finally sat up, offering an explanation. “I’m just not used to people being close. It’s not because of you.”

“Mm-hm,” Mo Zhu hummed noncommittally.

A silence fell between them before Ji Shubai spoke again. “Then tonight…”

“How about this,” Mo Zhu suggested. “Let’s start with just sharing a bed.”

Opportunities like this were rare, especially when the person had delivered themselves to her door. Mo Zhu wasn’t about to kick her out.

Ji Shubai silently accepted the proposal.

Mo Zhu moved to the other side of the bed, lifted the covers, and naturally claimed the inner side. Ji Shubai settled in beside her.

“I need a nightlight to sleep. Do you mind?” Mo Zhu asked before turning off the main lights.

Ji Shubai shook her head. “I don’t mind.”

Once the lights were out, the room was silent save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic, deliberate breathing of two people.

After some time, Mo Zhu felt Ji Shubai’s tense breathing smooth out into the deep, steady rhythm of sleep.

But Mo Zhu herself couldn’t sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the image of them falling together—Ji Shubai’s panicked expression and those slightly parted lips. It was a memory that felt both ridiculous and irritating. She didn’t understand why her mind kept looping back to it.

Much later, Ji Shubai shifted in her sleep, causing a slight dip in the mattress.

Mo Zhu, still wide awake, slowly turned onto her side. Her movements were as light as a feather touching water.

The nightlight cast a very weak, soft glow—not enough to light the room, but just enough for Mo Zhu to see the person beside her.

Ji Shubai was facing her, her dark hair scattered across the pillow, partially veiling her face.

Mo Zhu watched her in silence, her own expression unreadable in the shadows. The practiced smile she usually wore was gone, replaced by a complex swirl of emotions: scrutiny, inquiry, and a tiny, unrecognizable spark of confusion.

Her gaze traveled down the bridge of Ji Shubai’s nose to those lips, which looked exceptionally soft in the dim light.

Suddenly, Mo Zhu moved.

Propping herself up on one arm, she hovered over Ji Shubai, slowly lowering her body. Her movements remained agonizingly slow, the mattress creaking ever so slightly under the weight.

Mo Zhu’s shadow fell silently over Ji Shubai. Her eyes fixed on those slightly parted lips, and the distance between them began to close, inch by inch.