The Guide to Faking Innocence to Win His Wife - Chapter 6

A few days passed in a blur. The lush green branches reached toward the third floor, yet the windows remained tightly shut, rarely opening to catch a breeze. The door was the same; apart from necessary meals, Xie Zhiyi seldom ventured downstairs.

There are generally two types of travelers: those who set out in high spirits to explore, and those who are full of sorrow, seeking only a strange place to hide and escape.

Xie Zhiyi was clearly the latter.

Grandma, having lived through many years, finally sensed the heavy air. Without prying, she and Jiang Zhongmu maintained a tacit silence, allowing their guest to rest in peace.

The sweltering midsummer heat was unbearable. In the peak of the afternoon, when the sun was at its fiercest, even the stream across from the gate had receded, and the leaves hung limp and listless, finding no refuge from the glare.

Standing at the entrance, Jiang Zhongmu instinctively looked up at the third floor. The emotions in her eyes were dark and difficult to read. After a moment of hesitation, she turned decisively, closed the gate behind her, and strode out of the thin shade. Even with her sun-kissed tan, the stinging heat of the sun was sharp against her skin.

She frowned slightly but quickly smoothed her expression, quickening her pace. She wanted to reach her godfather’s house early.

Her footsteps tapped against the loose grey bricks, and the wind whipped through her hair, though it brought not a hint of coolness.

Few people were on the road. It wasn’t the harvest season, and there were hardly any tourists; unless there was urgent business, no one wanted to be outside.

Jiang Zhongmu tried to stick to the shade. Unexpectedly, she looked up to see a young child walking toward her, clutching a plastic bag.

“Sister Zhongmu?” The boy, who had been busy kicking stones, looked up with a joyous expression. He swung his chubby legs and came running toward her at full tilt.

Jiang Zhongmu stopped, her expression softening. She leaned down slightly to look at the breathless child. “Xiao Yuan.”

Jiang Town wasn’t large, and since families had lived there for generations, everyone was somewhat related or at least well-acquainted.

“What are you doing out here?” Jiang Zhongmu looked at the contents of the bag. “Did your dad send you to deliver something?”

The boy’s family ran a small supermarket. Sometimes, when customers couldn’t carry their purchases, the owner would send his son to deliver them in exchange for a small snack as a reward.

Jiang Zhongmu glanced at the boy’s round belly. Business must be good lately.

“Mhm!” Jiang Siyuan nodded emphatically. He lifted the bag and thrust it toward her. “This is for your house.”

Jiang Zhongmu froze. She took the bag and peeked through the opening. It was full of cigarettes and liquor—there was no way this belonged to her household.

“For my house?”

“Mhm! My dad said it’s for your house,” the boy insisted, his chubby cheeks quivering with certainty.

“Don’t get it mixed up…” Jiang Zhongmu knit her brows.

“It really is yours! If you don’t believe me, go ask my dad!” Jiang Siyuan’s eyes widened in frustration.

The small supermarket was just a bit further down the road. It wouldn’t hurt to confirm. If the kid had the wrong house and gave away the goods, he’d surely be scolded.

“Fine. If Sister Zhongmu is wrong, I’ll buy you candy.”

Seeing that she still doubted him, Jiang Siyuan puffed out his cheeks in a huff and bolted toward the supermarket, wailing for his father. Anyone watching would have thought Jiang Zhongmu was robbing him.

Jiang Zhongmu followed behind with large strides, the bottles in the bag clinking against each other.

The boy’s cries for his father drew several stares and eventually summoned the man himself from the cool interior of the shop. “What are you shouting for?! Your dad isn’t dead yet, I can hear you!”

“Dad!” Jiang Siyuan felt even more wronged. He lunged forward and hugged his father’s leg, looking up piteously.

He was still his son, after all. The man sighed and patted the boy’s head, his tone softening. “Look at you. Who bullied you? Shouting for me like you’re calling back a soul.”

Before the little boy could lodge a complaint, Jiang Zhongmu reached the entrance. “Uncle Meng.”

“Oh,” he responded reflexively, then turned. “Zhongmu.”

“I just ran into Xiao Yuan.” Jiang Zhongmu lifted the bag. “Is this for my house?”

Uncle Meng realized what was happening and turned to scold his son. “You brat, trying to be lazy again? I told you to deliver it to someone’s house, and you tried to ditch it halfway? Now look at this mess!”

He turned back with an embarrassed smile. “This kid is just lazy. But the things are for your house. Didn’t someone move in with you a couple of days ago?”

Jiang Siyuan, still clutching his father’s leg, stuck out his tongue with a triumphant look that said, I told you so.

Uncle Meng didn’t notice and continued to explain with gestures, “The girl with the long, curly hair? The very pretty one. She came by this morning to buy some things, but we were out of stock. I told her to go home first and that I’d send them over in the afternoon.”

“Right, I understand,” Jiang Zhongmu said. She had left to study jade carving right after breakfast and had only returned briefly at noon. Xie Zhiyi must have slipped out during that time.

“Do you want to take them back to her?”

“Sure. Thanks, Uncle,” Jiang Zhongmu agreed.

“No need to—” He didn’t finish his sentence before he saw Jiang Zhongmu begin to pull things out of the bag.

Three palm-sized bottles of white liquor were pulled from the bag and placed back on the counter.

“What are you…” Uncle Meng looked puzzled.

“She’s a guest. I can’t let her drink this. I’ll get something better from my godfather,” Jiang Zhongmu explained with a slight twitch of her lips.

The liquor sold in small supermarkets was barely drinkable. Those small bottles of pine-nut wine reeked of industrial alcohol and caused splitting headaches the next day. No one in Jiang Town would touch the stuff.

“Oh, alright. Your godfather’s brew is indeed excellent. I’ll give you the change for these,” Uncle Meng said, nodding kindly.

The townsfolk were always more lenient toward orphans and the elderly; they often looked out for Jiang Zhongmu and her grandmother.

“Keep it. Buy some candy for Xiao Yuan. I wrongly accused him, so consider it an apology,” Jiang Zhongmu said, waving her hand.

The little boy’s eyes lit up instantly.

“That won’t do, this rascal has already had enough snacks today—”

“It’s fine. Thanks, Uncle Meng.” Jiang Zhongmu turned and left before he could refuse, her lean silhouette disappearing around the corner in a few large strides.

“Such a stubborn child…” the man muttered, shaking his head helplessly.

The red sun dipped low, and the ever-flowing river surged into the paddy fields. The stifling heat finally began to mellow.

Inside a spacious flat-roofed house stood five or six solid wood workbenches. Heavy-duty jade carving lathes were suspended by wooden beams, their slender silver pipes dangling down. The hand-held grips emitted a high-pitched whirring sound, and the air was thick with the scent of stone dust.

Four people worked in silence. Even the usually boisterous Jiang Nanxun was quiet, his back curved and his gaze intensely focused.

Standing outside, Jiang Gaoxuan watched and nodded. He walked into the room, stopping behind each person for a while. If there was a mistake, he would speak up to interrupt and give a hands-on lesson; if not, he simply moved on.

When he reached Jiang Zhongmu, he watched her for a long time before calling out softly, “Zhong-Zhong.”

Jiang Zhongmu immediately switched off the lathe. She looked up at her godfather, her tense face relaxing into a smile. “Godfather.”

“Come outside for a moment,” Jiang Gaoxuan smiled. He turned and called out to the others, “Alright, you can take a break.”

The others acted as if they hadn’t heard, continuing to carve with their heads down.

He was used to this and continued, “I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll probably be gone for two weeks. You can choose to carve here or at home, but when I get back, I expect to see five finished pieces.”

With that, he patted Jiang Zhongmu on the shoulder and walked out.

The sound of a wooden stool scraping against the floor followed as Jiang Zhongmu stood up and followed him into the main hall.

Jiang Gaoxuan handed her a stool before sitting down himself.

“Godfather?” Jiang Zhongmu asked, puzzled.

Jiang Gaoxuan only bore a slight resemblance to his son, Jiang Nanxun. Unlike his son’s rowdy appearance, his features were more upright and square. He looked very stern when he wasn’t smiling, but when he did, the corners of his eyes crinkled with deep lines. His palms were thick with calluses.

“Why were you late today?” he asked.

“I went to buy some things,” Jiang Zhongmu replied simply.

“Oh…” He nodded. Changing the subject, he asked, “Are you sure you won’t come with me? Didn’t you want to see what ‘mutton-fat’ jade looks like? We have a great piece of raw material this time.”

A chance that others would fight for was one she could refuse and still be asked about again in the living room; it was clear how much Jiang Gaoxuan doted on her.

“I don’t want to go,” Jiang Zhongmu’s answer remained the same. The small braid at the back of her head had loosened, a few strands falling over her eyes. Traces of stone dust and water droplets remained on her cheeks.

She patted her loose trousers, and a cloud of accumulated dust puffed out.

“Then I’ll just go with your Uncle Lin. Don’t go regretting it later,” Jiang Gaoxuan said tentatively, his eyes searching hers for even a hint of regret.

Jade carving was a complicated process, and it was always easier to have someone helping out. Since Jiang Zhongmu wasn’t going, he had asked a skilled friend to join him.

Jiang Zhongmu laughed, her narrow eyes curving. Her voice was no longer so heavy. “I won’t regret it. You should take Lei and the others with you instead, so they stop dreaming about it.”

Jiang Gaoxuan immediately shook his head, showing no mercy. “Forget it. They need a few more years of practice.”

They were fine for ordinary work, but this job involved top-tier materials. A small mistake could mean a loss of tens of thousands. He was naturally cautious. He wanted to take Jiang Zhongmu not just out of affection, but because her talent and skill far surpassed his other disciples.

“Fine then. Stay home and spend time with Grandma. Get some rest, and don’t sit in front of the lathe from morning to night,” Jiang Gaoxuan instructed gently.

With his other apprentices, he was always worried they were slacking off and would call to check on them. With Jiang Zhongmu, he worried she didn’t rest enough, fearing she might carve eighteen pieces in two weeks.

“I know…”

Before she could finish, a rowdy voice came from outside. “Dad, why are you so biased? Why don’t you let your son rest for a bit?”

They both looked toward the door. A slightly slouching boy with a buzz cut strode over the threshold, his flip-flops slapping loudly against the floor.

“Do I even need to tell you? You’d spend twenty-four hours in bed if you could. Do I really need to tell you to rest?” Jiang Gaoxuan joked.

“You should still show some concern,” Jiang Nanxun said as he walked over to Jiang Zhongmu, his mischievous air as strong as ever.

“I’m concerned about what time you actually get out of bed,” Jiang Gaoxuan grumbled. He asked, “Did Lei and the others go home?”

“Yeah. They said they’d be back tomorrow afternoon and asked me to open the door for them.”

“Then open the door for them, and don’t be lazy yourself,” Jiang Gaoxuan warned once more.

“I know,” came the drawn-out, impatient reply. Jiang Nanxun turned to Jiang Zhongmu and grinned. “You coming? Jade carving in the afternoon, then catching crayfish tonight. Lei’s family bought a big lamp—you put it in the ditch and you can see everything clearly.”

“I have things to do at home,” Jiang Zhongmu shook her head.

Jiang Nanxun immediately replied, “Then I’ll bring you a basket once I catch them.”

Jiang Gaoxuan, who was about to scold his son, lost his anger upon hearing this and swallowed his words.

Jiang Zhongmu nodded in agreement. Knowing he didn’t like “thank yous,” she skipped the pleasantries, intending to return the favor with a gift later. This was how neighbors in the town kept their bonds tight.

She then added, “By the way, Godfather, do you have any of your brew left? I’d like to take a jug home.”

“Of course. I’ll go get it for you,” Jiang Gaoxuan said without hesitation. He turned and barked at his son, “Go find me a plastic bottle. Didn’t your mom wash a few and leave them in the kitchen the other day? Get a big one!”

Jiang Nanxun curled his lip. “A real son is nothing compared to a goddaughter…”

“Go!”

“On it!”

The door on the third floor was knocked. This time, Jiang Zhongmu didn’t wait for Xie Zhiyi to open it; she simply muttered, “Your things,” and then the sound of receding footsteps followed.

The woman leaning against the headboard kept her eyes down. She waited until the footsteps faded into silence before throwing off the covers and getting out of bed.

The hem of her nightgown swayed, and the slanted rays of light in the room glided over her slender calves, tracing the delicate texture of her pale skin.

With a click, the door was pushed open. The cool evening breeze rushed in, ruffling her hair. The sorrow in her eyes hadn’t diminished; if anything, it had grown thicker.

She looked down. A white porcelain tray filled with items sat on the floor—the things she hadn’t managed to buy that morning, along with her change.

However…

She noticed an out-of-place earthenware wine jug. It was palm-sized, shaped like a teardrop without a point. The mouth was plugged with red cloth, and a note was tucked under the base.

She bent down to pick it up. It was a square scrap of paper torn from what looked like a school notebook. The handwriting was sharp yet disciplined, written neatly within the grid lines.

“Drinking industrial-blended alcohol is bad for you.

Jiang Town’s bayberry wine is sweet and tart. It’s best for the heat with some ice, but it’s quite strong with a heavy kick. Drink only one jug a day.”

Xie Zhiyi looked at the other side of the white tray. A small bowl was filled with ice cubes, emitting a cold mist, and beside it was an empty glass.

Very thoughtful.

She suddenly laughed, murmuring under her breath, “What a pedantic little kid.”

Already in her room on the second floor, Jiang Zhongmu had no idea her carefully composed note was being laughed at. She sat at her desk, flipping through a yellowed, tattered book.

She had found it earlier while going to the cellar with Jiang Gaoxuan to get the wine. According to him, it was a “treasure” someone gave him when he was courting his wife, and it was thanks to this book that he won her heart.

However, after decades of marriage, the treasure had become a rock used to level a wobbly table, and eventually, it was tossed into a corner when they got a new one.

Jiang Zhongmu had lied without blinking, saying her desk was a bit wobbly and this book was the perfect height, so she had asked Jiang Gaoxuan for it.

As she flipped through the pages, her frown deepened. Finally, she turned straight to the table of contents.

The title of the book was: The Beastly Gentleman.

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