The Guide to Faking Innocence to Win His Wife - Chapter 18

“…It’s a perfectly normal thing. Same-sex marriage is already legal in many countries abroad.”

“Even in the animal kingdom, there are plenty of examples of same-sex attraction—penguins, black swans, dolphins.”

“Many years ago, psychology classified same-sex attraction as a normal sexual orientation in humans. Homosexuality isn’t a disease, it’s not a mental disorder, and it’s certainly not an emotional problem…”

The woman’s voice was a stumbling mess of explanations. Shaken into incoherence by that candid confession, she had opened her mouth, desperately trying to pull some theory or another out of thin air.

“There’s no need for you to feel inferior—”

“Sister, what on earth are you thinking about?”

The girl leaning back in her chair still wore that casual, effortless smile. Sunlight dappled her sharp features, lending her an air of uncharacteristic cynicism.

“You don’t have to search for ways to comfort me. I understand,” she said, before adding with an unreadable lilt: “But how do you know so much about it, Sister? I only found out by looking things up online…”

With that drawn-out tone and feigned confusion, the little leopard had finally begun its prowl toward the prey, while the prey remained entirely unaware.

“N-no, it’s just… in university, these things are very common.”

“Is that so?” The girl with the sun-kissed skin arched an eyebrow.

How else had she answered?

Xie Zhiyi couldn’t quite remember. She just recalled herself stuttering through some sentences before making a hurried escape.

She had been flustered, acting nothing like a mature elder.

The afternoon sun streamed through the attic window, casting long shadows across the floor. The woman lay half-propped on the bed, one leg tucked up and the other dangling off the edge, swaying slightly in a blur of ghostly white skin.

She let out a long, weary sigh. Rare embarrassment colored her delicate features, and her earlobes beneath her curls were flushed a faint red.

That conversation kept looping in her mind. Instead of fading, it seemed to be gaining momentum. As someone who took pride in being a steady, all-knowing adult, she had been caught off guard and pulled down from her pedestal by a mere child.

Xie Zhiyi bit her lower lip and finally reached into the nightstand drawer for her cigarette case.

She hadn’t intended to smoke anymore—she had never actually liked the smell—but the turmoil of the past few weeks had been so difficult to resolve that she’d picked it up as a way to cope. Even if the smell was hard to stomach, it at least provided a temporary lull in the restless irritability that haunted her.

Alcohol was the same: falling into a dizzy, heavy sleep was better than the nightly knot of insomnia and depression.

Click. A slender cigarette was lit, and a wisp of smoke drifted upward.

Xie Zhiyi lowered her eyes, her thoughts spinning without logic or order.

The truth was… she was just like Jiang Zhongmu.

She liked women.

That was why she knew so much. That was why, even in her panic, she could rattle off those grand theories. She had read them countless times, even used them to draft long manifestos to come out to her parents. How could she not know them by heart?

But she had never imagined Jiang Zhongmu was the same.

Perhaps Jiang Zhongmu had shown hints before, but Xie Zhiyi had only ever seen her as a child. Burdened by her own troubles, she hadn’t had the headspace to notice. Even when she’d occasionally felt an inappropriate spark of tension, she had simply chalked it up to her own general preference for women.

Smoke curled around her lips. A faint tooth mark remained on her moist red lip— a silent testament to her conflicted heart.

The flex of a tanned forearm, the straight line of a collarbone, the faint hint of abdominal muscles… images she had once merely glanced at now returned to her with startling clarity.

She took a deep drag. The nicotine worked its magic quickly, bringing her logic back to the surface. She forcibly suppressed those burgeoning suspicions, categorizing them as a child’s idle curiosity.

Outside, the birdsong made the mountain feel even greener as the sun began its descent toward dusk.

An electric scooter pulled up at the gate. Grandma, finally home, sat with Xie Zhiyi under the tree, smiling as she handed over a carefully wrapped parcel.

Jiang Zhongmu sat on the other side of them, watching with curiosity.

The weather had turned scorching recently. The kitchen was cramped and stifling with oil smoke, so Jiang Zhongmu had simply moved the table and stools out under the shade of the tree, seeking a bit of comfort.

The fire flared in the kitchen, and the aroma of food began to drift out. Jiang Zhongmu, who had rushed to the town entrance to pick up Grandma earlier that afternoon, was now back to work in the kitchen.

“…Zhiyi, you must try this. These Red Dumplings are only made around the ‘Flower Hill Festival.’ You were unlucky last time; the festival had been over for half a month, so you missed out. You have to taste them now,” Grandma said, beaming.

The elderly were like that, if they cared about you, they showed it openly and constantly, unlike the young who were always so indirect and guarded.

“Okay, thank you, Grandma,” Xie Zhiyi agreed warmly, unwrapping the package.

Inside were dumplings the size of an infant’s fist. Red glutinous rice was stuck to white rice that had been pounded into ciba (mochi), making them look rare and adorable.

“I thought about coming back yesterday afternoon, but their family only pounded the rice this morning. I thought since you’d never had them, I’d stay an extra day,” Grandma explained with a laugh. She added, “Eat one first. If you don’t like it, give the rest to Zhong-Zhong.”

In the kitchen, Jiang Zhongmu was busy tossing a wok, entirely unaware of her grandmother’s blatant favoritism.

Xie Zhiyi glanced toward the kitchen, then, under Grandma’s loving gaze, picked up a Red Dumpling and took a light bite.

The handmade mochi was perfectly springy. Once she bit through the thin skin, the red bean paste filling was revealed. Combined with the red rice dyed with medicinal herbs, it was perfectly soft, chewy, and sweet.

Xie Zhiyi’s eyes lit up. Even though she rarely ate glutinous foods, she found this exceptionally good. “The taste is wonderful,” she said.

Grandma smiled. Her features weren’t very similar to Jiang Zhongmu’s; she had a softer facial structure that, refined by age, looked incredibly kind and warm. “If you like it, eat another. But don’t have too many; sticky food is hard to digest. It’ll be no good if you have an upset stomach tonight.”

Xie Zhiyi nodded and took another bite. “I was so disappointed I missed these last time. This finally makes up for the regret.”

“That’s good… Oh! You didn’t get to go to the Flower Hill Festival last time either. In a couple of days, I’ll have Zhong-Zhong take you to play,” Grandma suddenly remembered.

Xie Zhiyi froze. Only that morning she had decided to keep her distance from Jiang Zhongmu. Now that she knew they shared the same orientation… she felt it was better to draw a line to prevent any “misunderstandings.”

But before she could invent an excuse, Jiang Zhongmu emerged from the kitchen carrying plates. She set the food on the table in a few brisk movements.

Grandma immediately spoke up: “Zhong-Zhong, take your Sister to the Flower Hill Festival in two days. Stop hanging around with Xiao Xun and those boys every day. You’re a girl—learn how to look after our guest.”

Jiang Zhongmu, suddenly accused of being a wild child, blinked. She didn’t argue at all, simply accepting the “blame” with a muffled “Okay.”

Beside them, Xie Zhiyi opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Grandma turned back to her with a smile. “I’ll have Zhong-Zhong take you to pound the mochi yourself. Fresh Red Dumplings are the most fragrant; these are already a bit old.”

It was impossible to refuse the warmth of an elder. Xie Zhiyi eventually swallowed her protests and looked at Jiang Zhongmu.

The girl had already turned back to the kitchen, resuming her stoic, silent persona—though Xie Zhiyi knew how mischievous she could be underneath.

A leaf fluttered down, landing at Xie Zhiyi’s feet. After a pause, she finally said, “Alright.”

Grandma’s smile widened as she patted Xie Zhiyi’s hand.

A moment later, the meal was set: three dishes and a soup, along with white rice steamed in bamboo tubes.

As soon as Jiang Zhongmu sat down, Grandma gave her a hard pat on the back, her tone scolding: “Why did you only cook these?”

The girl, who had been secretly feeling proud of her cooking, looked confused. She stared at the table.

Lotus root and pork rib soup, stir-fried pork, sautéed greens, and a cold wood-ear mushroom salad. She couldn’t see anything wrong.

“Where are the crabs your Sister likes?” Grandma frowned, glaring at the “blockhead.”

Jiang Zhongmu realized the issue. She glanced at Xie Zhiyi and muttered, “She can’t eat too many of those. They make her stomach hurt.”

Xie Zhiyi fell silent.

Grandma froze for a moment, then her expression softened. “The… that time?”

Having lived through much more than Jiang Zhongmu, she understood immediately.

Jiang Zhongmu nodded.

Grandma, still not entirely trusting her, turned to Xie Zhiyi for confirmation. Only after Xie Zhiyi nodded did she relax. “Then it’s best not to eat those for a few days…”

Xie Zhiyi breathed a secret sigh of relief. Bringing this up at the dinner table was a bit awkward, but Grandma wasn’t finished. She suddenly asked, “Does it happen often?”

Xie Zhiyi nodded instinctively.

“Do your hands and feet usually feel ice-cold?” Grandma continued.

“Yes…”

Grandma clapped her hands. “I know a Chinese herbal remedy that works. I’ll have Zhong-Zhong bring it up to your room tonight.”

Jiang Zhongmu followed up naturally: “Okay.”

Xie Zhiyi: “…”

Support