The Guide to Faking Innocence to Win His Wife - Chapter 11

It was now the early hours of the morning, and the heavy rain outside finally showed signs of letting up.

The hot water bottle at the foot of the bed had been refilled once more, and the porcelain cups had been replenished as they cooled. Finally, the woman on the bed relaxed her brow and drifted into a deep sleep.

Beside her, Jiang Zhongmu’s eyelids drooped, her forearm wobbling slightly as she used it to prop up her head. Yet, her other hand—the one still moving in steady, circular rubs over Xie Zhiyi’s stomach remained stable, careful not to disturb her in the slightest.

The lightbulb flickered, burdened by the long night. As the darkness thickened and the world outside blurred into a hazy hum, Jiang Zhongmu’s drowsy consciousness drifted back to a distant, untouchable memory.

That year, Jiang Zhongmu had just turned thirteen. After her parents died in a car accident, she had dropped out of school and shut herself in her room, rarely venturing out.

Grandma was too busy then. The grief of losing her children hadn’t yet faded when she had to shoulder the entire responsibility of the household, the guesthouse and the fields all rested on her aging shoulders. Though she cared for Jiang Zhongmu, she had no energy left to spare for the girl’s mental state.

In the eyes of the older generation, if a child was fed and healthy, they were fine. Furthermore, the value placed on formal education wasn’t strong in Jiang Town; the fact that Jiang Zhongmu had stopped going to school didn’t seem like a problem to Grandma.

And so, Jiang Zhongmu stayed at home for over half a year.

Among the rotating cast of guests at the guesthouse, a few curious souls would occasionally try to talk to the little girl who rarely left her room.

The kind ones would wave and ask why she didn’t go out to play. The rude ones would just shout, “Hey kid, go buy me a bottle of liquor.”

Jiang Zhongmu treated them all the same: with a somber expression and total silence. At most, she would run an errand and then immediately vanish back into her room. Eventually, neighbors would explain her situation, and the looks from the guests would shift from confusion to pity.

Falling from a happy, envied family to a “pitiful thing” needing charity made Jiang Zhongmu withdraw even further. Even when Jiang Nanxun, her childhood friend, came to find her, she would only speak to him through the closed door.

Until Xie Zhiyi appeared.

Back then, Xie Zhiyi was a university student in her early twenties gentle, thoughtful, and full of youthful energy. During the day, she wandered around town, and after dinner, she would sit under the white champaca tree with Grandma to enjoy the evening breeze.

People are naturally drawn to those who are warm and kind, especially Grandma, who was under immense pressure. Being able to chat lightheartedly with someone was her greatest luxury.

Naturally, Grandma became very close to Xie Zhiyi. And she tried to bring Jiang Zhongmu along.

But Jiang Zhongmu’s “closeness” was hard to spot. She was a brooding kid who didn’t like to talk; she just looked like a little shadow clinging to Grandma, sitting on a small stool and poking at the dirt with a stick.

Xie Zhiyi often teased her. Even though she had heard the tragic story from the neighbors, she never looked at Jiang Zhongmu with that condescending gaze of pity. In fact, she seemed to enjoy pestering the girl.

If Jiang Zhongmu was looking at ants, Xie Zhiyi would “accidentally” spill her tea, sending the poor ants floating on a miniature lake. The kid would puff out her cheeks in a huff and glare up at her.

Xie Zhiyi would just laugh, looking entirely unrepentant. “It was an accident! How about Sister gives you a piece of candy to make up for it?”

She would hold out her hand, a piece of candy already waiting in her palm. It was a brand Jiang Zhongmu had never seen again, even after she grew up.

But Jiang Zhongmu wouldn’t take it. She wasn’t like other kids; she didn’t care for sweets or snacks. Seeing someone try to coax her with something she didn’t like only made her more stubborn. She would ignore the outstretched hand and turn her back to look at shadows on the ground instead.

Then, Xie Zhiyi would simply stand up. Her long shadow would swallow the small, curled-up Jiang Zhongmu, leaving her in total darkness.

Unable to see anything, Jiang Zhongmu would spin around, eyes wide with indignation, but before she could utter a word, Xie Zhiyi would pop the candy into her mouth.

A tart, sweet lemon flavor would explode on her tongue.

“What was ‘Little Mute Bell’ going to say?” the woman would ask with a playful, rising lilt.

Inevitably, a night breeze would blow through the tree, shaking the white blossoms. Jiang Zhongmu, her mouth full of candy, could only offer a muffled, incoherent grumble. Xie Zhiyi would just smile at her, unaware of the petals drifting against her own cheek.

And Grandma would just sit nearby, laughing as she watched her granddaughter be “bullied.”

Perhaps it was just that Jiang Zhongmu had a difficult temperament—when people were overly careful and gentle with her, she pushed them away. But with the “wicked” Xie Zhiyi, despite her grumpy exterior, she spent every day watching the window, waiting for the woman to return.

Grandma understood her granddaughter perfectly; she just never poked at the secret.

Then came the day Jiang Zhongmu caught a chill and a high fever. She was a precocious, stubborn child who told Grandma she was fine because she didn’t want her to worry. But the moment Grandma left the house, the fever spiked.

If Xie Zhiyi hadn’t been asked to check on her, she wouldn’t have found Jiang Zhongmu semi-conscious and burning up. She had scooped the teenage girl into her arms and sprinted to the small local clinic.

When the fever finally broke and Jiang Zhongmu opened her eyes, she found Xie Zhiyi asleep by the bed.

The IV drip was still clicking rhythmically. They were alone in the quiet ward. The golden afternoon sun spilled through the window, stretching their shadows across the floor, while the distant sound of wind chimes rang out.

Jiang Zhongmu stared blankly for a long time before she remembered where she was. Then, her gaze settled on the person beside her.

Voices drifted from the half-open door. The clinic rarely had patients, so every new arrival was gossip for the nurses. Jiang Zhongmu frowned, expecting to hear more about her “tragic fate,” but they were talking about Xie Zhiyi.

They marveled that such a delicate-looking city girl could carry a teenage girl all the way to the clinic alone. They speculated they were distant relatives; otherwise, why would Xie Zhiyi be so dedicated, constantly wiping the girl’s sweat to lower her temperature until the fever finally broke?

Before Jiang Zhongmu could process this, the person beside her stirred. Xie Zhiyi’s eyelashes fluttered, and she woke up with a start, immediately looking toward the bed.

Her expression relaxed, and she softened instantly, looking at Jiang Zhongmu with a smile. “Is ‘Little Mute Bell’ awake?”

That same teasing tone.

The wave of gratitude Jiang Zhongmu had felt vanished instantly. She put on a stern face and glared at her.

The woman showed no remorse; she even reached out and flicked the girl’s forehead. “Are you hungry, Little Mute Bell?”

With an IV in her hand, Jiang Zhongmu couldn’t dodge. She just had to take the flick, her eyes full of helpless annoyance. She didn’t understand how this adult could be so immature.

“Are you hungry? I’m asking you a question,” Xie Zhiyi said, retracting her hand. She was the one making trouble, yet she sounded perfectly righteous.

Jiang Zhongmu pursed her lips and finally forced out two words: “Not hungry.”

“Really?” Xie Zhiyi looked skeptical.

Jiang Zhongmu nodded firmly, her eyes steady.

A second later, Xie Zhiyi had an epiphany. “You want porridge.”

Jiang Zhongmu: “…”

“Wait here, Sister will go buy some for you.”

She had clearly already decided, yet she had pretended to ask. Jiang Zhongmu twitched her lips, unable to fathom the treacherous complexity of the adult world. She could only watch as the woman’s silhouette disappeared out the door.

The rain had stopped and the sun was rising. Warm morning light spilled down, the damp ground reflecting the image of the old town while moss in the corners breathed out tiny bubbles.

Sitting by the bed, Jiang Zhongmu opened her eyes. The complex, obscure emotions faded from her gaze, replaced by the stiff ache of a night spent sitting upright. She let out a long, quiet breath. Without even pausing to stretch, she looked once more at the woman sleeping in the blankets.

The face in her memory overlapped with the face before her, creating a jarring sense of unreality—as if time really had slipped through her fingers like water.

Birds began to chirp outside. Jiang Zhongmu refilled the water one last time before quietly heading downstairs.

By the time Xie Zhiyi woke up, it was nearly noon. She had expected an agonizing night, but to her surprise, she had slept exceptionally well.

Her eyes, still hazy with sleep, instinctively scanned the side of the bed. There was only a stool tilted at an angle, but judging by the warmth of the hot water bottle at her feet, the person hadn’t been gone long.

She lay there for a while until her sleepiness vanished, then propped herself up against the headboard. While her abdomen still ached, it was much better than yesterday; at least she could sit up now.

She wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but a faint flush touched her pale face. she covered her eyes with the back of her hand, hiding like an ostrich for a moment before finally getting out of bed to wash up.

Jiang Zhongmu’s thoughtfulness was evident everywhere. There was even warm water waiting in the bathroom. She didn’t even have to squeeze the toothpaste; she just picked up the cup of warm water and began her routine.

The sound of rushing water and the cool scent of mint cleared away the last of her grogginess.

A moment later, Jiang Zhongmu entered the room with a wooden tray.

“You’re awake?” she asked. It was a question, but her tone was certain.

Xie Zhiyi nodded, her voice a bit raspy. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Jiang Zhongmu replied, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she were pleased about something. She leaned over to set the tray down.

It was the same setup as last night: a large bowl of soup with two sets of bowls and spoons. Inside the large bowl was red sugar porridge with dates and longans—perfect for someone needing to replenish their “qi” and blood.

Xie Zhiyi glanced at it, her expression turning strangely complex.

Didn’t I buy her a bowl exactly like this a long time ago?

She vaguely remembered Jiang Zhongmu’s stern face as she very reluctantly swallowed the red sugar porridge even as a kid, she had looked like an old man being forced to take bitter medicine…

Jiang Zhongmu handed her a small bowl filled with porridge.

Xie Zhiyi took it reflexively. She scooped up a spoonful of the distinct grains and took a light sip. “Chef Jiang” was as good as ever; there was nothing to fault.

However…

Xie Zhiyi’s gaze drifted to the side. The child who once treated sugar like medicine could now drink this formerly despised sweet porridge without a flinch. A look of daze flickered in her eyes.

“Xie Zhiyi,” a steady voice called out.

Not bothering to correct the use of her full name, Xie Zhiyi looked up.

“When you came to Jiang Town before, where did you go?”

“I wandered around everywhere,” Xie Zhiyi replied, a bit bewildered by the sudden question.

“Do you want to revisit those places?” Jiang Zhongmu turned her head, her expression natural and her light amber eyes calm. “If staying in this room all day isn’t helping, you might as well go out for a walk.”

As if possessed, Xie Zhiyi nodded and agreed.

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