The Guide to Faking Innocence to Win His Wife - Chapter 34

“Lei Zi, don’t you think that guy is acting a bit… off?”

“What are you on about?”

“A bit… how should I put it? It feels like spring has arrived for her.”

“What?!”

The sun was scorching, and the clear sky was cloudless. In the distance, the green mountains were a faint silhouette, and the sound of frogs drifted from the shade of the willows. The small, single-story studio remained as it always was, though the voices were intentionally lowered, hidden beneath the hum of grinding wheels and the splashing of water.

Beams of sunlight fell upon the girl’s lean back, thinning her white T-shirt until the undergarment beneath was faintly visible. Her brow was furrowed as she stared with apparent focus at the jade in her hands.

Beside her, Jiang Nanxun leaned over, drawing closer to the person on his other side. His carefree face was filled with confusion as he asked again, “You don’t think so?”

“No? What do you mean by ‘spring has arrived’? Didn’t spring end a long time ago?” Jiang Nanzheng simply set down the stone in his hand, adjusted his black-framed glasses, and looked increasingly lost.

“You blockhead,” Jiang Nanxun grumbled at his stupidity. Since Jiang Nanlei was on the far side and he couldn’t reach him, he explained helplessly, “Not the season spring. I mean… like, romantic spring! What’s the word? Spring heart… something?”

Jiang Nanzheng knit his brows, guessing tentatively, “Spring heart is rippling?” (A Chinese idiom for being lovestruck/aroused).

“Yes! That’s the one!” Jiang Nanxun nearly clapped his hands.

“Huh?” Jiang Nanzheng grew more confused and turned his head to look over at Jiang Zhongmu.

Spring heart rippling…

The subject of their discussion was completely oblivious. She appeared as serious as ever, her grinding wheel sliding across the stone’s surface to leave a long, slanted arc.

“I… I don’t see it…” Nanzheng said, half-doubting.

“I’m not talking to you, you moron,” Jiang Nanxun cursed and turned back to his own work.

A strong gust of wind blew through, scattering limestone dust. A stray lock of the girl’s hair was lifted, revealing a red mark on her neck. It was thin and faint—it was hard to tell if the person who left it had run out of strength or had intentionally spared her. It was lighter than the mark a simple scratch would leave.

The handpiece in her grip stayed still for a long time. Her thoughts were stuck on last night. After all, she was a child who had just tasted “meat” for the first time; how could she possibly keep her mind steady?

Intermittent gasps, the watery mist in the woman’s reddened eyes, hands that released only to clutch tighter.

Jiang Zhongmu’s eyes flickered. She couldn’t focus on carving at all; her mind was entirely filled with the scenes from the night before. The mark on her neck gave off a faint, stinging throb. It didn’t actually hurt—compared to the usual bumps and bruises of her work, it was negligible—but it forced her to remember, over and over.

The woman, overwhelmed by shame and irritation, had grabbed the girl’s messy collar, using her remaining strength to pull her down. She had tilted her head back and bitten the girl’s neck, her sharp canines grazing the skin. It was less of a punishment and more of a provocation.

The arrogant Little Leopard hadn’t been intimidated. Instead, she had leaned in even closer, pressing against her and whispering into her ear with a light laugh, “Teacher, do you only teach half the lesson?”

Xie Zhiyi had covered her eyes with her hand, a self-deceiving attempt to ignore her. This girl was truly wicked. Usually, she acted so well-behaved, the image of a quiet, studious girl, but inside she was completely “black,” full of mischievous schemes. With only a shallow understanding of the basics, she had managed to toss and turn Xie Zhiyi all night. She wondered what stranger, more eccentric methods the girl would come up with in the future.

The elder’s silence didn’t mean Jiang Zhongmu would settle down. She had leaned in close, pleading in a soft voice, insisting on being taught something else. Xie Zhiyi couldn’t withstand her persistence and eventually pressed her lips back to the spot she had just bitten, leaving a mark that was neither too deep nor too shallow, a little trick to try and satisfy her.

But she had forgotten that Jiang Zhongmu was the type of student who could learn one thing and infer three more.

“Zhongmu!” A loud, boisterous male voice suddenly rang out.

The hand holding the tool jerked, and Jiang Zhongmu snapped back to reality.

“What’s up with you today? I called you several times and you didn’t hear me,” Jiang Nanxun said, standing beside her with a look of confusion. Before she could answer, he added, “It’s time. You can head back for lunch.”

The master would only come by once in the afternoon; at noon, they were free to leave on their own.

Jiang Zhongmu gave a muffled “Okay” and turned off the machine. The trace of panic between her brows vanished as she moved, leaving no sign of her thoughts.

“Eating at my place today?” Jiang Nanxun asked, as he did every day.

“No,” Jiang Zhongmu shook her head.

“Fine.” This exchange happened daily, and Jiang Nanxun wasn’t bothered by the rejection. They walked out of the house together.

As the afternoon arrived, the sunlight outside grew more brilliant and scorching. Jiang Zhongmu frowned the moment she stepped out. Jiang Nanxun couldn’t stand it either. As soon as he felt the sun, he started running toward another building, shouting, “The watermelons in my field are ripe! My dad picked four and put them in the well to chill. Wait a second, I’ll go fish one out so you can take it home.”

Hearing this, Jiang Zhongmu and the other two stepped back in unison into the shade of the small studio.

Jiang Nanzheng, who had been hesitant to speak, finally found his chance. “Zhongmu jie…”

Jiang Zhongmu tilted her head to look at him. Somewhere along the line, whether they were close friends or just acquaintances of the same age, anyone who wasn’t significantly older than her had started calling her “Jie.” It was a form of respect. Only Jiang Nanxun, clinging to his status as a “half-brother,” stubbornly refused to use the title.

“Is… everything okay with you the last couple of days?” Jiang Nanzheng mulled it over for a long time before blurting out that sentence.

“What could be wrong?” Jiang Zhongmu frowned and asked back.

“It’s just… that peach blossom thing or whatever,” he was too embarrassed to speak plainly, stuttering over his words. (Peach blossom is a metaphor for romance/scandal).

But Jiang Zhongmu was impatient and cut him off. “What do you mean?”

Jiang Nanzheng rubbed his nose. “Nothing, just asking…”

Jiang Zhongmu nodded, but then said quite solemnly, “Give me a copy of those movies you guys were watching before.”

“HUH???”

The front gate was pushed open, and Jiang Zhongmu entered carrying a large watermelon. The moment she stepped in, she saw Grandmother standing rigidly by the door.

“What are you doing out here in this heat?” Jiang Zhongmu’s heart tightened, and she strode over immediately.

“Soaking up the sun,” Grandmother said, flashing a kind smile the moment she saw her.

“What sun is there to soak up at this hour? What if you get heatstroke?” Jiang Zhongmu was annoyed. With the watermelon in one arm, she used the other to pull Grandmother back into the house. She couldn’t understand what was so good about the sun on a day this hot.

“The experts say old people should get more sun,” Grandmother replied righteously.

Jiang Zhongmu was moved to a frustrated laugh. “Did the experts say what happens if an old person gets heatstroke? You have to look at the circumstances.”

“I was going to go in when it got too hot.”

“I’m afraid you’d collapse before you made it in,” Jiang Zhongmu sighed, helping Grandmother into a chair in the living room.

“I don’t have dementia yet,” Grandmother snapped back. Old people were like that—the older they got, the more they acted like children.

“Fine, fine,” Jiang Zhongmu had to play along.

Satisfied, Grandmother changed the subject. “Zhiyi hasn’t come down yet.”

Jiang Zhongmu’s expression froze. She instinctively gripped the watermelon tighter. “She was probably too tired yesterday. When I went upstairs last night, I heard her say she wasn’t feeling well. Let her sleep a bit longer; don’t go disturbing her.”

After speaking, she stared intently at Grandmother. Like a child who had done something wrong, she tried to act nonchalant but couldn’t help searching the elder’s face for a reaction.

Fortunately, Grandmother just had a moment of realization and then waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t need to tell me that! Let her rest then. What about lunch?”

Jiang Zhongmu relaxed. “I’ll bring it up to her in a bit.”

She was back to her usual, solemn, and well-behaved self. The unsuspecting Grandmother nodded with satisfaction, looking at the watermelon. “From Xun’s family? Cut some for Zhiyi when you go up.”

“Will do,” Jiang Zhongmu agreed quickly.

The clatter of dishes in the basin stopped, and the sound of running water cut off completely. Someone walked into the kitchen, placed the prepared food onto a wooden tray, and stepped out with steady feet.

Passing through the first floor, her gaze lingered on the closed bedroom door for a second. Only after confirming there was no sound from within did she head toward the stairs.

The bedroom door was pushed open softly, and Jiang Zhongmu entered her own room with light footsteps.

They had been rowdy late into the night, only stopping when the sky was turning pale. The elder who had ignited the fire hadn’t even had the strength to return to her own room, let alone lift an arm; she had fallen asleep right there in Jiang Zhongmu’s bed.

It was now after one in the afternoon. Even the heavy curtains couldn’t block out the sunlight entirely. However, the person buried in the bed was still sleeping deeply. She didn’t even react when Jiang Zhongmu walked in, showing just how much she had endured the night before.

Jiang Zhongmu set the tray on the desk and sat down on the edge of the bed.

The woman finally showed some reaction, her eyelids fluttering once before settling again. Jiang Zhongmu smiled inexplicably. Her sharp features softened, and her light amber eyes reflected only the silhouette of the woman before her.

Compared to her usual self, the woman on the bed looked disheveled. The dress tossed on the floor was unwearable, leaving her only the thin quilt for cover. But because the weather was muggy, she had kicked much of it away, revealing her graceful shoulders and neck.

The Little Leopard was a new student to these “skills” and couldn’t help showing off. Aside from the neck, which Xie Zhiyi had tried desperately to protect, there were red marks everywhere else—continuous streaks, deep and shallow, leading down into the unseen depths, like a painting of red plum blossoms on snow.

Seeing her handiwork, the culprit’s eyes darkened, and the thoughts she had suppressed surged back. After all, it was her first taste; having the willpower to get out of bed and leave earlier was already an act of restraint. Now sitting beside her beloved, her mind couldn’t help but wander. She awkwardly raised a hand to rub her nose, forcing her gaze upward.

Messy hair partially hid the woman’s elegant face. Her closed eyes still held traces of exhaustion, and there was a lingering dampness at the corners of her eyes. Her swollen red lips were slightly parted, as if she were mumbling something.

Curious, Jiang Zhongmu leaned down to listen. Only when she was nearly touching her could she hear a few words.

“No more.”

“Stop!”

“I can’t move away.”

It seemed she had been put through so much the night before that she was pleading even in her dreams. Jiang Zhongmu didn’t know whether to laugh or feel guilty. After standing up, she rubbed her palms against her pants, showing a trace of awkwardness.

She was, after all, a pampered city woman. She wasn’t like Jiang Zhongmu, who had done farm work and learned jade carving since childhood; she couldn’t handle such rough treatment. Jiang Zhongmu silently warned herself to be more restrained next time. She couldn’t do this again—though she didn’t know if the warning would hold. After all, last night’s “last time” had happened again and again.

The person on the bed seemed to feel something. She shifted her leg slightly, but the soreness hit her, causing a low groan and a slight frown.

Jiang Zhongmu’s eyes grew increasingly dark. Her hands, resting on her knees, clenched into fists. She sat in silence for a long time, finally turning her head to look away.

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