The Guide to Faking Innocence to Win His Wife - Chapter 8

After that night, Jiang Zhongmu didn’t take the initiative to look for Xie Zhiyi for two days. Even at the dinner table, the atmosphere was stifling; she had always been a girl of few words, but now she was as silent as a buried stone.

It was another afternoon.

Sitting at her workbench, Jiang Zhongmu let out a heavy sigh. She put down the handpiece, switched off the machine, and tossed the jade into the water tray before leaning back against the wooden chair.

Strands of black hair, flecked with stone dust, fell over her shoulders and shielded her closed eyes. Irritation was gathered deep between her brows.

Seeking relief, she hooked one foot under the workbench’s crossbar and pressed the other against the floor, giving a light shove. The front legs of the stool lifted off the ground, leaving her precariously balanced in mid-air, swaying like a rocking chair.

Outside, the weather was gloomy. Heavy clouds pressed down on the small town, but instead of cooling things down, the air grew even more stifling and humid. A torrential downpour was imminent.

The wooden stool swayed further, its loose joints creaking. The leg hooked under the bar was stretched into a straight line—the only safety rope keeping her from falling.

Just as she was using this strange method to escape her thoughts, the abrupt sound of someone coming down the stairs echoed.

Her whole body jolted. The relaxation vanished as her muscles tensed; her foot hooked the bar, and in the blink of an eye, the front legs hit the floor with a dull thud.

It was still an hour or two before dinner. Why was she coming down now?

Like a child caught slacking off, Jiang Zhongmu panicked at the “sound of a parent’s key in the lock.” She scrambled to pick up the handpiece, flipped the switch, and bent her head over the jade, pretending to be hard at work.

Because carving stirred up stone dust, the windows and doors were usually kept wide open to let the air clear, and today was no exception.

However, in her rush to look busy, Jiang Zhongmu had forgotten one thing: the jade in her hand was a mess.

Earlier, in her distracted state, the diamond burr had already sliced off a dragon’s claw and left an ugly gash across the dragon’s eye. It looked like a chaotic disaster—as if a clumsy apprentice had taken a master’s half-finished work and ruined it beyond repair.

The footsteps stopped quietly behind her.

Jiang Zhongmu was now fully focused on the stone. Her skill came not just from talent, but from an extraordinary ability to concentrate. Once she was in the zone, nothing could easily sway her.

But…

Images of that night flashed before her eyes again.

Standing on that stool, pretending to be calm, tightening the bulb as if she wanted to nail it into the ceiling.

And that alluring woman leaning against the desk, her cheeks flushed with wine, lips curved into a faint smile, her eyes filled with a gaze that was both casual and utterly transparent in its scrutiny.

With every glance, a numb, tingly itch had spread wherever those eyes landed.

Jiang Zhongmu hadn’t known how to react. The white magnolia of her memory had bloomed before her eyes, but it wasn’t the gentle, noble flower she had imagined; instead, it carried a decadent, world-weary, and seductive charm.

She was like a little nun who had only ever studied sutras in a temple and seen nothing of the world. She could handle ink and dry buns, but once she was dazzled by a flower, the scriptures in her hands became crumpled and unreadable.

“Don’t you want to stop for a second?”

A puzzled voice came from behind. Jiang Zhongmu’s hand twitched, and she shaved off another half-claw from the poor dragon.

Fortunately, it was just a piece of practice material—a scrap of yellow dragon jade she had bought for a few hundred yuan. It was cheap and plentiful, with the only drawback being its low hardness; a moment of carelessness meant grinding away too much. Case in point.

Jiang Zhongmu hurriedly clicked off the handpiece and turned around, her voice sounding a bit hollow. “Why did you come in?”

“I’m sorry, I saw you were carving…” Xie Zhiyi clearly misunderstood, thinking the girl minded the sudden intrusion.

“Don’t apologize,” Jiang Zhongmu interrupted immediately.

A mix of nervousness and guilt made her lose her usual composure. Her words came out rushed as she added, “I was just startled. You can come watch anytime.”

She stood up, wiping her hands—covered in water and stone dust—against her trousers.

The older woman gave a comforting smile, and the sorrow in her eyes seemed to lighten slightly. She said softly, “If you’re having trouble with the precision, you could try using a smaller piston burr or a brush-shaped burr.”

As she spoke about the craft, her face softened, and a tiny spark of light flickered in her eyes.

“You understand this?” Jiang Zhongmu took a stealthy breath, forcing her messy thoughts down. Her eyelashes fluttered for a second before she returned to her usual stoic self.

The tools Xie Zhiyi mentioned piston burrs and brush burrs are essential in jade carving. They range from two knuckles long to thin, short needles, each tipped with diamond grit of various shapes. They are fixed into the three-jaw chuck of the handpiece and spin with the machine.

• • Piston Burrs : These are trumpet-shaped with flat, circular cross-sections. They are the workhorses of carving. Jiang Zhongmu, relying on her skill to go fast, had been using the largest ones, which could grind through yellow jade in seconds.

• • Brush-shaped Burrs :These are oval and, true to their name, are less aggressive and better for delicate transitions.

“A little,” Xie Zhiyi smiled, not elaborating. She steered the conversation back. “Haste makes waste. You shouldn’t rush jade; it’s normal to spend a week or two on a single plaque.”

Jiang Zhongmu opened her mouth, but she didn’t know how to explain.

It was just a dragon plaque. She could carve the entire zodiac by the time she was in middle school. Now, she was so skilled that whether it was a traveling dragon, a flood dragon, or a cloud dragon, even the most intricate design took her only an afternoon.

But she looked down at the dragon in her hand—the spinning burr had shown no mercy, obliterating the claws. In the face of that reality, anything she said would just sound like an excuse.

“Slow work produces fine results. Jade carving is meant to consume time and energy. It’s normal to get frustrated if you do it too long. Just turn off the machine and play for a while; there’s no need to force yourself to sit there,” Xie Zhiyi comforted her, her words flowing smoothly as if she had said them many times before.

“No… it’s not—” Jiang Zhongmu stammered in denial.

“Just take it slow.”

Xie Zhiyi looked like she understood completely. Seeing the girl still trying to explain, she assumed the “kid” was just embarrassed about losing face. She thoughtfully changed the subject: “There’s no more water upstairs. I came down to get a kettle.”

Jiang Zhongmu immediately forgot her previous embarrassment. “I’ll boil some for you.”

There was no water dispenser in the house. Their drinking water came from the stone well in the backyard, which was then boiled over a large fire and stored in wooden-stoppered thermoses.

Xie Zhiyi hadn’t been drinking much these past few days—not even half a jug a day. Fearing the water would go stale, Jiang Zhongmu only brought up half-full kettles. She hadn’t expected her to run out today.

“Alright, thank you,” Xie Zhiyi said. As the topic shifted, the smile faded from her lips, and her face grew even more pale and bloodless.

Jiang Zhongmu didn’t notice, however. Her mind was focused on the task, and she hurried toward the first floor.

The cool, spacious living room was empty. Grandma had taken a bus to a neighboring village today to stay with an old friend she hadn’t seen in ages, planning to chat and reminisce for a few days.

Jiang Zhongmu pushed open the old wooden door to the backyard. It wasn’t much—just a small space enclosed by red bricks where some green onions and cilantro were planted. The well was at the very edge, sealed with a wooden board and fitted with a manual pump for Grandma’s convenience.

Holding the silver kettle in one hand and the pump handle in the other, she gave a few pumps until clear water flowed into the kettle.

In the brief pause, Jiang Zhongmu looked up at the sky and realized that a fine drizzle had begun to fall.

She frowned. If it were a sudden thunderstorm, it would pour violently and be gone in two hours. But this rain had been brewing all day; this slow, lingering drizzle meant it would likely rain all night.

A moment later, the kettle was placed on the stove, and the fire roared to life, wrapping around the base.

Jiang Zhongmu grabbed a stool and sat down. The messy, shy thoughts that had plagued her finally began to dissipate in the cool, drizzling rain.

Then, she froze. She turned her head to look behind her. The woman hadn’t followed her.

It wasn’t that the other person had to follow her, but there hadn’t even been a simple polite gesture.

In Jiang Zhongmu’s mind, Xie Zhiyi had always been the image of a gentle, mature adult. Even during those first few days when she was clearly full of sorrow, she had forced herself to be warm and polite to match Grandma’s enthusiasm. Usually, she would have at least made small talk now.

A sudden wave of panic hit Jiang Zhongmu. She turned back abruptly, the firelight flickering endlessly in her light amber eyes.

A low rumble of thunder rolled through the air as the thick, dark clouds pressed even lower.

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