The Guide to Faking Innocence to Win His Wife - Chapter 33

Thump, thump, thump!

Her heart was racing, and an indescribable bashfulness enveloped Jiang Zhongmu. On one hand, there was the flirtatious provocation of her beloved; on the other, the sheer embarrassment of having her “secret manual” read aloud.

Though she had only flipped through it once before tossing it to the corner of the desk, hearing the target of her affection recite those words, syllable by syllable while staring right at her, made Jiang Zhongmu want to incinerate the book on the spot.

Her breathing grew heavy. Her neck was hooked by those slender, soft arms. Xie Zhiyi’s skin, which remained as cool as jade even in the peak of summer, no longer served to soothe the heat. Instead, it seemed to deliberately ignite small sparks that converged, causing the Little Leopard to break into a fine sweat.

A breeze rushed through the open window, filling the room with the soft, intoxicating scent of roses.

“Hmm?” That low, breathy sound echoed in her ear again.

The woman in her arms was urging her, continuing the inquiry with patient persistence. The smile dancing in the corners of her eyes revealed an unshielded, mischievous streak. Xie Zhiyi was determined to play the “villain” and dampen the girl’s arrogant fire.

“Jiang Zhongmu,” she murmured. This time, it wasn’t a warning or a sign of irritation; she spoke the three syllables with a lingering, nuanced cadence.

Jiang Zhongmu’s heart trembled. The once-majestic Little Leopard flattened her ears and tucked her tail, her hands hovering awkwardly as if they didn’t know where to belong.

“What… what is it?” she stammered out.

“What’s wrong? Were you deaf just now and couldn’t hear me?” Xie Zhiyi was still smiling, her fingertips tapping lightly on the prominent bone at the back of the girl’s neck. Each tap sent ripples across the previously calm lake of the girl’s composure.

Jiang Zhongmu opened her mouth, but the answer she had prepared was cut short. A suspicious red crept from her earlobes down to her neck.

For someone like Xie Zhiyi, making Jiang Zhongmu blush provided a strange sense of achievement. People with fair skin flushed easily; even a slight pinch could turn half their face red. But those with deeper skin tones were different—they appeared more restrained and stoic. Even a bruise was hard to spot if they chose to act unbothered. A blush on Jiang Zhongmu was a rare, fleeting thing, but right now, her face looked like it was about to emit smoke.

The elder knew exactly how to handle her. Realizing that pushing further might actually make the Little Leopard snap, she stopped the verbal teasing, though her fingers continued to graze that sensitive spot on the neck. Perhaps because that area was usually covered by hair, the skin there was more sensitive; an accidental graze from a fingernail created an unbearable wave of sensation.

“That book… Xun gave it to me,” Jiang Zhongmu finally squeezed out an explanation, her guilty gaze drifting toward the window. She stammered, “I… I didn’t read it.”

Xie Zhiyi nodded with a half-smile, repeating the words slowly: “You didn’t read it…”

The drawn-out tone made Jiang Zhongmu even more flustered. She muttered, “I… I read a page or two.”

The smile on Xie Zhiyi’s lips deepened. “A page or two?”

The Little Leopard was out of options; she had nowhere to hide. She finally admitted honestly, “I skimmed about a third of it. I thought it was unreliable, so I stopped.”

Only then did Xie Zhiyi truly believe her. She brushed her knuckles against the girl’s neck and murmured, as if coaxing a child, “So well-behaved.”

The inexperienced Jiang Zhongmu felt as if she might faint from the teasing. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she bit her lower lip, pleading in a soft, muffled voice, “Sister, stop teasing me.”

The child who was usually gloomy and silent in front of others only showed this side to her Sister—like a young leopard exposing its belly to only one person.

“Sister,” the girl pleaded, the final syllable trailing off with a clingy, sweet weight. “Stop teasing me.” She looked utterly pitiful. Her eyelashes trembled, and a watery sheen covered her light amber eyes, making her look like a girl bullied to the point of tears.

Xie Zhiyi just laughed. That seemingly pure white magnolia of a woman was actually quite wicked inside. Not only did she refuse to let the girl off the hook, but she also took Jiang Zhongmu’s hand and guided it to her own waist.

Jiang Zhongmu’s breath hitched.

Xie Zhiyi seemed unbothered, acting like a guide leading a tourist through mountains and shallows. She let those callused hands glide over her delicate skin through the thin fabric of her dress.

Jiang Zhongmu was usually reckless, pressing forward with a burst of bravado to hide her lack of confidence, throwing out every “move” she knew for fear of being pushed away. But the elder was different. She had long seen through the girl’s heart and held the reins of the relationship. The composure that comes with time was distinct at this moment. Every movement was unhurried—like a veterinarian holding a leopard by the scruff of the neck, offering comfort while harboring other intentions.

Zhong Mu’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. Xie Zhiyi could even hear her swallowing, and…

She laughed and asked, “Have you forgotten how to breathe?”

Only then did Jiang Zhongmu realize she had been holding her breath. Her athletic lung capacity was a double-edged sword; she had almost forgotten to inhale. The scent of roses swirled around her nose, refusing to dissipate. Under her palm was that soft waist. It felt as though a little more pressure from her grip could crush it.

The wind from the window roared, perhaps signaling rain. The Burmese laurel tree in the courtyard swayed, and the rocking chair beneath it moved even more. Downstairs, Grandmother was likely washing up; the sound of the basin and splashing water was quite loud.

Jiang Zhongmu whispered, “Sister.” The wind had cleared her head slightly; she wasn’t quite as foolish now. “Don’t mess with me, Sister,” she murmured, her back slightly curved as she leaned her head close to the other’s ear.

Xie Zhiyi was held in her arms, one hand loosely draped around the girl’s neck. Her exquisite features were clouded with a peach-pink mist, making her look increasingly delicate and vulnerable.

“What if I do?” Xie Zhiyi asked back. Emboldened by how smoothly things were going, she laughed and continued, “What? Does the book say…”

Before she could finish, a lean, strong arm suddenly hooked under her knees, lifting her effortlessly and cutting her off. Jiang Zhongmu took two steps and sat her down on the desk, whispering, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself. Sister.”

She was no saint. An inexperienced youth in her late teens naturally possessed a vivid imagination and a surplus of energy for exploration. But the elder, who had already gained the upper hand, wasn’t about to yield. Not only was she not afraid, she added fuel to the fire. She raised her hand, her index finger tracing the girl’s earlobe as if playing with a piece of jade. She asked knowingly, “Why are your ears so hot?”

Sitting on the desk, she was now shorter than Jiang Zhongmu, her head barely reaching the girl’s collarbone. To speak, she had to tilt her head back, her long chestnut curls swaying in the breeze.

Jiang Zhongmu’s gaze was heavy as she studied this “villain.” How could someone be so wicked?

“Xie Zhiyi…” she called out helplessly.

“Hmm?” The elder was still smiling, seemingly unaware of the descending danger—or perhaps she was looking forward to the fire spreading to her.

“Xie Zhiyi, I am not drunk this time,” Jiang Zhongmu warned. One hand remained under the woman’s knees, lifting them to wrap around her own waist, while the other hand pressed against the small of her back, forcing her closer.

The woman in her arms arched an eyebrow. “And?”

Jiang Zhongmu leaned down, pressing against the corner of her lips, and rasped the answer: “This time, I won’t stop.”

“Oh…” Xie Zhiyi drew out the word, her eyelids lifting with a touch of nonchalant defiance. She laughed softly, “And then? Does the child still need Sister to teach you?”

The Little Leopard nipped at her skin, adhering to the virtues she learned in school: never deny what you don’t know. She “humbly” requested, “Then I’ll have to trouble Teacher Xie Zhiyi.”

The “good student” earnestly pried open those lips, using the methods her teacher had “taught” her, probing inward and sharing her hot breath. The hand on the girl’s earlobe fell away, bracing against the desk behind her to support herself. Slender fingers curled against the cool glass of the desktop.

The sound of soft, wet kisses filled the room as the chestnut curls swayed more violently. The skirt with its pale roses was pulled upward, partially covering a sheet of paper beneath the glass.

It was an ordinary piece of stationery. In the corner, the words Xunyang University were printed, and the margins were filled with elementary math problems. It was more conspicuous than the book tossed aside, yet it was ignored in the corner. Or perhaps someone was intentionally ignoring it, deceiving themselves into delaying the timeline, treating this as a fleeting attraction from a young person to an older one of the same kind.

They both understood that this wanton freedom was temporary. It belonged to this small town and this hot, brief summer. Xie Zhiyi never brought up the future, and Jiang Zhongmu tacitly followed suit, knowing this elder was both gentle and cruel—indulging her without limits while simultaneously planning her departure.

The urgent Little Leopard pressed forward, dominantly reclaiming the initiative. Xie Zhiyi retreated until her slender waist was arched back like a fragile flower stem. Jiang Zhongmu tightened her arms, her palm fitting into the shallow curve of the other’s back as if she could brand herself into the woman’s very flesh.

The hands on the desk clenched, and the skirt completely covered the glass.

Jiang Zhongmu rasped, “Teacher, what’s the next step? What is the next step? Weren’t you going to teach me?”

The cool wind rushed through the gap between them. Forehead to forehead, her light amber eyes were filled with unshielded desire, yet her actions remained green, like a confused student calling for a teacher over and over.

Xie Zhiyi looked up, her watery eyes flashing with a mix of shame and annoyance. Jiang Zhongmu grinned, her dimples appearing as she pleaded, “Sister.”

In the end, the elder lost. She let out a sound—half-bashful, half-sigh—and finally relented. The hand on the glass rose to hook around the girl’s neck, and the thin straps of her dress were pulled down.

The open window was soon shut, and with a shish, the curtains were drawn tight, blocking out the stars. The loosely structured bed creaked as the mattress dipped. Thin clothes fell to the floor, followed by a corner of the quilt.

“Gentle…” the “teacher” instructed patiently, tugging at the student’s hair. But this student was so clumsy it was frustrating. Xie Zhiyi grew impatient, her fingers sliding through the messy hair to pull the girl’s head down, burying her in softness.

“Mmph…” The “puppy” let out a muffled sound but was quickly distracted by something else, refusing to let go once she caught it. One fair hand clutched the corner of the pillow, pulling it into a mess of wrinkles. The other hand tugged at the girl’s hair; whenever the “puppy” used too much force, she would pull back slightly, and Jiang Zhongmu would ease off from the pain.

The night wind howled, blurring the distant mountains. The galaxy turned; the river flowed. The courtyard was covered in fallen petals and leaves. Downstairs was silent; Grandmother had long since fallen asleep. The third-floor attic was dark, destined to be quiet tonight.

But the temperature in this room soared. The hand on the pillow loosened and tightened repeatedly until the hand braced beside her grabbed it, pinning it above her head in a firm restraint.

“Teacher, is this okay?” The girl leaned down, moisture lingering on her lips, the veins on her strong forearms bulging from the effort.

Xie Zhiyi turned her head away, refusing to answer. Her messy hair partially hid her graceful silhouette, her red lips parted, her breathing in tatters.

“Sister?” The Little Leopard, however, was tactless, demanding a word of praise. Fingers moved with deliberate care, rough tips pressing against the peak. “Am I learning well?” In the half-light, Jiang Zhongmu smiled with a mix of mischief and childishness. “Sister?”

Xie Zhiyi let out a muffled groan, finding her too noisy. She tried to kick the girl, but was interrupted by a deeper sensation. The breath she had just managed to steady was shattered again, and broken, tuneless sounds escaped her uncontrollably.

“Shut up!”

“What?” Someone was pretending to be deaf.

“Jiang Zhongmu!” The voice was sharp with shame and annoyance.

The girl only laughed and said, “Understood. Then I will work harder to satisfy Sister.”

Xie Zhiyi glared at her, the corners of her eyes flushed and shimmering with moisture. The next second, she was completely submerged in the tide. Sweat dripped from her neck into the depths. The sheets were soaked, but no one cared.

The sound of water splashing was audible, but Xie Zhiyi was beyond caring. She could only blame herself for being too indulgent, allowing the Little Leopard’s fire to grow so arrogant.

Outside, the wind continued it likely wouldn’t stop all night. The Burmese laurel tree stood its ground, occasionally dropping a green leaf. The stars faded, and a sleeping person turned over, mumbling an unintelligible dream. The silhouettes on the curtains grew thin, moving from two into one.

Finally, the elder, with less energy than the youth, was the first to give up, trying to push the other away. But the Little Leopard, having tasted the sweetness, wasn’t about to stop so easily. She nipped at the elder’s ear, pleading for “one last time.”

Xie Zhiyi didn’t believe her, but she couldn’t help but relent, letting the girl have her way. Outside, the creek gurgled incessantly, the clear water slapping against the bank. Wildflowers swayed with the ripples, white foam clinging to the stems, refusing to leave. It wasn’t until the horizon turned white and the red sun began to rise that this “last time” finally came to an end.

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