The Guide to Faking Innocence to Win His Wife - Chapter 19

Xie Zhiyi couldn’t for the life of her understand how things had come to this. She had clearly resolved to keep her distance, yet somehow, they had only ended up closer.

Grandma was a woman of action. She had mentioned the herbal remedy at dinner, and as soon as the meal was over, she had gone out to gather the ingredients, tasking Jiang Zhongmu with bringing them up to the attic.

Now, night had truly fallen. The crescent moon peeked out with its sharp tip, and the evening breeze ruffled the thin curtains. Inside the room, the two of them sat in silence.

Jiang Zhongmu sat on the edge of the bed, facing Xie Zhiyi. Her back was slightly curved as her rough palms moved in slow, rhythmic circles, gently massaging Xie Zhiyi’s lower abdomen.

The older woman lay propped against the headboard, her long curls cascading over her shoulders. Her loose white shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and as she shifted her wrists, the hem would occasionally flutter upward.

The silence was awkward—or perhaps it was only awkward for Xie Zhiyi. The little leopard, harboring her own secret intentions, kept her lips pressed tight, putting on a front of absolute professional gravity.

Jiang Zhongmu’s eyes flickered upward, stealing a lightning-fast glance.

The white shirt Xie Zhiyi had hurriedly changed into was buttoned all the way to the top, hiding her collarbone and half her neck. But she had forgotten her sleeves, which remained unfastened—a tell-tale sign of her earlier fluster.

The mischievous girl pursed her lips, flattening the upward curve that threatened to break through.

It was a strange feeling. Sometimes she felt slighted by her beloved’s deliberate defensiveness and concealment; other times, she loved the hiding. It proved that Xie Zhiyi no longer saw her as the child she once was. The older woman was starting to retreat, to build walls.

This play had finally moved past being Jiang Zhongmu’s solo performance.

Xie Zhiyi wasn’t thinking quite so deeply. She just instinctively pulled a corner of the thin duvet over herself as a shield.

This “dampness-removing” remedy was peculiar. Although it was an external application, it had to be placed directly over the navel, and it required someone with warm hands to massage it in. Supposedly, this helped the medicinal properties volatile and penetrate?

Xie Zhiyi didn’t understand the science, but she couldn’t refuse Grandma’s kindness. The elderly woman had thought of her even while away and had specially brought back those Red Dumplings. Xie Zhiyi gripped the bedding, her fingers twisting the fabric into messy wrinkles.

Without a sharp, agonizing pain to distract her, the sensations she usually ignored became startlingly clear.

She could feel every single callus on the girl’s palms and knuckles. The skin on the index and middle fingers was thick, and the crook of the thumb was the roughest of all. Every time it slid over her skin, it felt like fine sandpaper, sending an indescribable, tingling itch through her.

Coupled with the vast difference in their body temperatures…

Xie Zhiyi let out a quiet, stealthy breath, trying to suppress the messy thoughts that shouldn’t be there.

Suddenly, Jiang Zhongmu withdrew her hand.

“Hm?” The woman, who had just finished rebuilding her mental defenses, looked over in a daze.

“It got a bit cold. I’m warming them up,” Jiang Zhongmu said, maintaining her usual stoic and serious demeanor. Her narrow eyes were half-lidded, and as if to prove her point, she pressed her palms together and rubbed them vigorously.

Xie Zhiyi couldn’t tell if she had an ulterior motive. She sensed something was off—just as she had suspected Jiang Zhongmu was a bit of a “bad seed” at the start—but then she would see that innocent face and second-guess herself.

Once her palms were as hot as a small heater again, Jiang Zhongmu covered her stomach once more.

Perhaps from years of jade carving, her hands were slightly larger than those of an average girl. Resting against Xie Zhiyi’s slender, soft waist, they seemed to cover her almost entirely.

Xie Zhiyi’s abdomen tensed. She turned her head away to look at the other side of the room.

Jiang Zhongmu’s lips twitched into a tiny smile as she continued. Grandma had specifically instructed that this had to be done for a full month, and each massage could not last less than half an hour, or the effects would be halved. Jiang Zhongmu remembered this perfectly. She wouldn’t dare be careless; not a single minute would be skipped.

Outside, the moon peeked out and then hid again, unable to figure out what these humans were doing. After watching for a while, it lost interest and went back to its own games.

Suddenly, the phone sitting nearby began to vibrate. Like a dam bursting, it buzzed incessantly.

Jiang Zhongmu’s hand paused. Recalling her “thoughtful” persona, she was just about to pull away when Xie Zhiyi reached for the phone even faster than her. She immediately shut it off and tossed it to the far end of the bed.

The mattress dipped and then bounced back. The movement was so fluid it was clear she had done it countless times.

Jiang Zhongmu frowned almost imperceptibly. Instead of asking about the phone, she said, “Is the pressure too much?”

“What?” Xie Zhiyi snapped back to reality.

Jiang Zhongmu rephrased, her tone remaining steady. “Is this pressure comfortable?”

The light amber eyes she turned toward Xie Zhiyi were clear and sincere, devoid of any secondary meaning.

“It’s… fine,” Xie Zhiyi said, changing her word at the last second.

“It doesn’t hurt?” Jiang Zhongmu asked, lifting her eyes.

The elder woman knit her brows slightly. The distraction of the phone call had vanished. She hesitated, the words shifting on her tongue before she finally said, “I can’t feel it?”

“Should I go heavier then?” Jiang Zhongmu pressed. Her usual clever thoughtfulness seemed to have vanished, replaced by these repetitive, blunt questions.

Xie Zhiyi looked at her with suspicion. Jiang Zhongmu met her gaze with a look of utter bewilderment.

“What’s wrong?” the “innocent” little leopard asked. Her hand didn’t stop its circular motion for a second, looking for all the world like she was just a deeply concerned, caring host.

Xie Zhiyi bit her lip, tellling herself she was just overthinking. Even if she liked women, Jiang Zhongmu was still young and had lived in this small town her whole life; she shouldn’t understand such things.

She comforted herself with this thought, then shook her head. “The pressure is just right.”

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable. Don’t just endure it.”

Xie Zhiyi forced out a soft “Okay.”

Jiang Zhongmu looked away, her falling hair hiding her eyes and the smile within them.

How could I not understand? Growing up with rowdy boys like Jiang Nanlei, Jiang Zhongmu might be well-behaved, but she was far from ignorant. Besides, she had never truly been an “honest” child.

Perhaps feeling that the conversation had ended too abruptly, Xie Zhiyi asked, “What’s in this medicine? Why do I smell Sichuan peppercorns?”

Jiang Zhongmu had already asked Grandma earlier. “There are peppercorns. They’re ground into a powder along with mugwort and dried longan.”

That sounds bizarre.

Xie Zhiyi looked surprised. “Peppercorns can cure things?”

“They remove dampness,” Jiang Zhongmu corrected her. “It’s an old TCM formula. Houses by the river are damp, and people are always in the paddy fields. When ‘water qi’ enters the body, it causes problems. A lot of people in town use it.”

This sounded plausible. Xie Zhiyi decided it was worth the try; the monthly pain was truly debilitating and affected her life deeply.

“Don’t wash it off later,” Jiang Zhongmu whispered. “Wait until tomorrow morning and wash it with warm water.”

“Alright,” Xie Zhiyi agreed.

The conversation died there. Neither was particularly talkative, and after the morning’s encounter, even their attempts at normal interaction felt charged with a strange tension.

Jiang Zhongmu’s palms turned cool and then hot again. A thin, fine sweat broke out where their skin met. Because of the mugwort and longan, the sharp scent of the peppercorns became soft, even carrying a hint of sweetness.

Xie Zhiyi turned her head toward the window. White champaca petals fell with the wind. The bedsheet, gripped unconsciously by her hand, was pulled into a mess of wrinkles.

Jiang Zhongmu’s hand couldn’t stay perfectly in one spot like a machine. Occasionally, it would drift downward, brushing the waistband of Xie Zhiyi’s trousers, catching the edge of the fabric.

Xie Zhiyi tried her best to ignore it, but the rough sensation of the calluses kept pulling her back. A flicker of irritation rose in her, and she shot a look at the girl.

The person in the white tank top looked incredibly focused, as if she were performing an extremely solemn task. Her wide neckline revealed her straight collarbone, and her lean forearm, raised for so long, was tensed with clear, long lines of muscle.

It was hard to stay angry at her.

Xie Zhiyi bit her lower lip, enduring the continuous, strange sensations. She wasn’t a child; she knew what these feelings were. She was twenty-six, after all she had normal physiological needs. And her abdomen was sensitive, and to be touched like this.

Under the duvet, her legs curled up. A gust of cold air rushed in, bringing a momentary chill.

Exactly then, Jiang Zhongmu withdrew her hand. She even pulled the hem of Xie Zhiyi’s shirt back down and said softly, “Done.”

The woman on the bed wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or disappointed. She just managed an “Okay…”

Before she could say more, Jiang Zhongmu interrupted. “I’m heading back to my room. Remember to wash it off in the morning. If you want to shower tomorrow, tell me in advance, and I’ll come up later.”

She was thoughtful, yet possessed a sharp, almost cold efficiency—like she was strictly on business. She did the job seriously, and the moment the time was up, she took her leave.

“I know.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Jiang Zhongmu stood up. She put the stool back in its place, said a final “Goodnight,” and strode out of the room.

Her footsteps grew faint. The woman on the bed didn’t move for a long time, allowing the night to settle over the room.

A moment later, her breathing finally leveled out. She raised her hand, intending to cover her own stomach, but she snatched it away when it was only a centimeter from her skin.

She curled up entirely under the duvet, her long legs folded tight together.

The night grew deeper, the moon turned a hazy yellow, and the wind once again rang the copper bell.

Support