The Guide to Faking Innocence to Win His Wife - Chapter 7

Knock, knock-knock!

“Who is it?”

“It’s me. Grandma sent me up to change the lightbulb.”

Inside the room, the sound of footsteps shifted from light to heavy. Jiang Zhongmu’s fingers tightened around the plastic bag she was holding, her nails digging crescent marks into her palm.

She took a sudden, deep breath, masking her slight nervousness. The door swung open with a thud, and light spilled onto her lean, upright frame. Her thin T-shirt fluttered briefly in the breeze before settling gently against her.

Her voice, usually dull and hard to read, rang out: “Grandma thought the light in your room was too dim. She had me buy a new bulb to change it.”

She lifted the plastic bag as a sign; the material rustled loudly, a restless sound in the quiet.

The woman hidden in the darkness paused before opening the door all the way. “Come in,” she said softly.

As before, Jiang Zhongmu walked straight into the room, stopping at the bedroom door. She waited for the other woman to enter first before following.

Her gaze dropped to the other’s calves. Xie Zhiyi’s slender, fair ankles tensed slightly with every step; the protruding bone on the side looked like a polished piece of fine Hetian jade.

Jiang Zhongmu turned her head, forcing her gaze away to look elsewhere.

The room hadn’t fundamentally changed—it was still the same square space—yet it felt inexplicably different.

The scent of white champaca drifted in through the open window, carrying away the faint smell of tobacco and alcohol. The desk was now cluttered with various colorful bottles and jars, the suitcase had been moved to the corner, and dresses hung in the wardrobe. The large bed was now fitted with a light blue three-piece set, one corner of the duvet turned back.

Everywhere were signs of the other woman’s presence, chasing away the lingering sense of unreality in Jiang Zhongmu’s heart.

“Can you reach it?” The quiet question broke her train of thought.

“I’ll need to stand on a stool,” Jiang Zhongmu replied, offering no pointless bravado.

They stood half a meter apart. One had a gaze that was calm and unruffled. The other kept her eyes half-lidded, trying desperately to hide her expression. An atmosphere of distant, unfamiliar tension filled the air—less intimate than their shadows, which tilted and touched on the floor.

Xie Zhiyi hummed in response and continued, “I took the stool to the bathroom. I’ll go—”

“I’ll get it,” Jiang Zhongmu interrupted. Before she had even finished speaking, she was already moving with the decisive energy of youth.

Without looking too closely at the changes in the room, she grabbed the stool and headed back out. As she looked up, she saw the woman in the silk nightgown leaning against the edge of the desk. Her cheeks were flushed a faint pink, and her watery eyes were staring blankly at the floor.

She looked slightly tipsy, as if on the verge of intoxication.

Jiang Zhongmu glanced at the earthenware jug on the table. “Is it good?” she asked as she walked.

“Quite good,” Xie Zhiyi answered lazily.

Though Jiang Zhongmu had warned her, bayberry wine was the ultimate deceiver. It was cool, sweet, and tart on the palate, with almost no taste of alcohol. Xie Zhiyi had grown careless and drained the whole jug in no time.

Now, the “kick” was surging into her head all at once, leaving her lightheaded and groggy. If Jiang Zhongmu hadn’t knocked, she would have already been asleep.

“I’ll bring you more tomorrow, then,” Jiang Zhongmu said, the corner of her mouth twitching in a nearly imperceptible curve. She placed the stool under the light, kicked off her shoes, and stepped up. The muscles in her calves flexed beneath her mid-length shorts.

She reached down into the box for the lightbulb. As she unwrapped it, she added, “Turn off the light for me, and use your phone to give me some light.”

Finally having something to do, Xie Zhiyi complied.

It was almost funny; the lightbulb had been dim for so long and no one had noticed. But as soon as Xie Zhiyi moved in, Grandma had made a passing remark about the dimness, and Jiang Zhongmu had run to the supermarket before her hands were even dry from washing the dishes.

Who changes a lightbulb in the middle of the night? It wasn’t as if it had exploded; it could have waited.

Yet of the two people in this room, one harbored hidden intentions and the other was blurred by wine. And so, they let it happen.

The room plunged into darkness. Every sound became vivid, including the sound of breathing, which was being deliberately slowed and deepened.

Bright moonlight poured through the window, making the shadows on the floor even sharper.

Jiang Zhongmu stood on the stool, as still as if she were being punished—back straight, calves tensed. Her loose white tank top hung off her, the slouchy neckline revealing a stretch of collarbone.

Xie Zhiyi leaned back against the desk again. Picking up her phone, she realized she only had ten percent battery left. She paused, swiped away a screen full of messages, and pulled down the flashlight. Without giving Jiang Zhongmu any warning, she aimed the piercing white beam directly at her face.

Caught off guard, Jiang Zhongmu squeezed her eyes shut, her lashes trembling.

Perhaps it was a streak of underlying mischief, or perhaps a small, calculated act of revenge—either way, it could be blamed on the wine.

The wicked drunk didn’t lower the phone. Instead, she leaned back even further, her posture growing more languid and idle as she watched the other with keen interest.

The light didn’t make Jiang Zhongmu’s tanned skin any paler; instead, it made her features look leaner and more rugged. Her thin lips were pressed tight, her jawline a sharp, tensed diagonal.

Because of her gender, Jiang Zhongmu’s Adam’s apple wasn’t prominent, but under the beam of the flashlight, one could see the slender lines of her throat, the circular ridges sliding up and down with every dry swallow. The aggression she had tried so hard to hide was exposed right there.

It was all reflected in those tipsy, shimmering eyes.

If anyone else had been treated this way, they would have raised a hand to block the light or turned away. Someone with a bad temper might have started cursing. But Jiang Zhongmu stood there perfectly still. Only when her eyes had adjusted to the light did she slowly open them.

She still didn’t look at the culprit. She allowed the light to shine through her light amber eyes, making them look like transparent, flawless gems.

The night breeze pushed the window casement, and a few pale white champaca petals fluttered down. In this moment, everything was silent; even the noisy chirping of the insects had vanished.

Xie Zhiyi was the first to look away, the first to admit defeat.

The person on the stool let out a tiny sigh of relief, then tilted her head back and raised her hands.

When the house had been renovated years ago, they hadn’t chosen anything fancy—just a basic white floral cover that twisted over the ceiling to hide the bulb and wiring.

Jiang Zhongmu expertly covered it with her hand. With a gentle twist, she unscrewed the cover, placed it in the plastic bag hanging from her other wrist, and raised her hand again.

Logically, since the bulb had been on for a long time, it should have been scorching hot. But Jiang Zhongmu had spent years carving jade; her palms and fingertips were thick with calluses. The temperature of the bulb was lower than the heat generated by a high-speed carving tool, so she removed it easily.

Unfortunately, her efficient movements weren’t being appreciated. Xie Zhiyi kept her eyes down, looking at the girl’s bare, slightly tiptoed feet.

Unlike the soft, rounded feet of a city dweller, Jiang Zhongmu was lean from head to toe. Even here, the tendons surged beneath the thin skin, as if trying to prove their strength.

The alcohol made Xie Zhiyi’s mind race, connecting dots she would never have considered while sober.

For instance, she felt like a wealthy socialite in a dark room, holding a flashlight and casually inspecting the “merchandise” on a shelf.

Xie Zhiyi laughed for no apparent reason, though the mirth didn’t reach her dark eyes. She glanced up casually, her gaze landing on the hem of Jiang Zhongmu’s shirt, which had risen because her arms were raised.

She saw a tight, lean midriff, the faint outline of abdominal muscles and the “V-line” of her obliques disappearing into her waistband. The small of her back looked as though it could be filled by the palm of a hand. In the flickering light, the sight was intensely erotic.

Even the plastic bag hanging from the girl’s wrist could be imagined as a price tag.

How much would this silent but powerful little leopard cost?

In a place like that, people would surely scramble to outbid one another.

After all…

Who wouldn’t be captivated by a little leopard that blushes so easily?

Jiang Zhongmu replaced the light cover. Her loose hair shifted, exposing earlobes that were as red as blood.

She was still just a kid who hadn’t experienced much. No matter how much she feigned composure, an elder would always find her weakness.

Jiang Zhongmu jumped down from the stool. With her back to Xie Zhiyi, she put her shoes on, looking a bit panicked as she prepared to leave. She suddenly stopped as if remembering something and muttered, “It’s done. Get some sleep.”

With that, she hurried out, not forgetting to flip the switch for Xie Zhiyi.

The sudden glare of the lights filled the room. This time, it was Xie Zhiyi who closed her eyes.

With a thud, the door was slammed shut. Outside, the champaca leaves rustled loudly, masking the sound of hurried footsteps.

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