Chapter 6: That Makes It My Business.

Morning sunlight filtered through the gauze curtains, spilling into the room. Yun Zhixue was woken by noises downstairs. Barefoot, she walked to the window and saw Meng Zhenyue sitting by the pool, a wooden guitar in her arms as she tuned it.

Years ago, Yun Zhixue had tried learning guitar, but she could never quite find the right notes and eventually gave up. Fortunately, her fingers were nimble—she played the piano well.

Meng Zhenyue plucked at the strings and sang improvisationally:

“Dark clouds cover the clear sky,
Wild winds brush past towering buildings,
A little boat without a harbor
Stumbles into the arms of reefs.
If there were still eighteen-year-old days,
I’d take her hand and run, run and run-
Wait, what? The girl is only sixteen,
Her stubborn spine still crashing into walls.
Quick, tell her this is a dream-
Girl, wake up…”

She sang casually, hair falling over her lashes, a faint melancholy refracted from the bright morning sun.

Meng Zhenyue suddenly looked up and caught her watching. Her fingers stopped mid-strum, and she raised one finger to her lips.

Startled like a fawn, Yun Zhixue stepped back and hurriedly hid.

She had been spying on her. She’d broken the rule first.

Meng Zhenyue was unfamiliar, and captivating.

Within seconds, Yun Zhixue added another label in her mind: dangerous.

Downstairs, Meng Zhenyue had prepared breakfast. Intentionally nourishing dishes filled the table. Yun Zhixue’s portion included an extra bowl of restorative soup, light on oil, rich in flavor. She finished quickly and unconsciously licked her lips, clearly wanting more.

“There’s more,” Meng Zhenyue reminded her.

Yun Zhixue didn’t want to ask for another serving; it felt impolite. But Meng Zhenyue took her bowl directly, filled it, and set it back in front of her. After the hot soup, a faint blush bloomed across Yun Zhixue’s pale cheeks.

“You look beautiful like this,” Meng Zhenyue said with a smile.

“I’ll cook at noon,” Yun Zhixue replied awkwardly. That way, neither of them owed the other.

“No need. Consider it rent,” Meng Zhenyue said.

Yun Zhixue fell silent. The house wasn’t even hers, it belonged to Yun Jing.

“Instead of figuring out how to draw boundaries with me,” Meng Zhenyue added, setting down her chopsticks, “you might as well think about what punishment you deserve for breaking your own rules.”

There was a bright glint in her eyes, as though she found the idea of punishment particularly interesting.

Yun Zhixue’s expression shifted. “I’ll think about it.”

Back in her room, she stared at the list of rules she had written herself. The arrogance she’d felt writing them now turned into regret. After a while, she studied her face carefully in the bathroom mirror.

Hmph.

She spent the entire morning trying to read but couldn’t focus. What would the punishment be?

Throwing her things out? Making her leave?

In the afternoon, a cook and caregiver arrived. Meng Zhenyue interviewed them briefly in the living room, notebook in hand, emphasizing that there was a patient in the house and everything must be handled with care.

Once everything was arranged, Meng Zhenyue looked up at Yun Zhixue, who stood behind the sofa. “Didn’t take a nap?”

Yun Zhixue hated owing anyone. She hadn’t been able to sleep at all. She stepped forward. “Punish me.”

Meng Zhenyue crooked a finger. “Stand up straight.”

Yun Zhixue stiffened.

“Feet together.”

She didn’t want to obey, but her body betrayed her.

Meng Zhenyue stood, flicked her lightly on the forehead, and said warmly, “Keep it up.”

She was encouraging wrongdoing.

That was it, just a flick. Then Meng Zhenyue grabbed her notebook and left.

It wasn’t until 10:30 that night that she returned.

Yun Zhixue felt she was being unreasonable. For a moment, she wanted to demand that she come home before 9:30, but the thought was quickly suppressed.

From downstairs came Meng Zhenyue’s voice on the phone, sweet and syrupy: “What’s the point of going to a hotel? I’ll come see you next time. I’ve got something to do.”

The sound of high heels on the stairs grew closer. Yun Zhixue instinctively stepped back into the shadows.

Meng Zhenyue climbed the stairs, holding a paper bag. The contents weren’t visible. But the affectionate term she used on the phone was clear, more intimate than “baby,” thick with tenderness between lovers.

So this was how she treated relationships.

“Alright, just wait a bit,” Meng Zhenyue coaxed the person on the other end.

Yun Zhixue had overheard similar calls before, suggestive, indulgent conversations with another woman.

She scoffed inwardly. Two unfaithful women. A perfect match.

Her gaze flicked over again.

Suddenly, Meng Zhenyue hummed, curled her finger toward her, eyes glinting. “Caught you.”

Yun Zhixue slammed her door shut, the click of the lock echoing as laughter drifted from outside.

Caught again.

A knock. “Spying on me again?”

Yun Zhixue pressed her lips tight. She’d forgotten to double-lock. Before she could react, Meng Zhenyue opened the door.

“Come here,” Meng Zhenyue said. “So I don’t have to step into your room.”

There was a faint fruity scent of alcohol on her, sweet. A trace of red lingered at the corners of her eyes. Yun Zhixue couldn’t quite describe it, only that it felt… alluring.

She stood straight in front of her.

“Lift your shirt.”

Yun Zhixue froze, anxiety rising.

Meng Zhenyue leaned closer. “You made the rules, baby.”

Her face burned as she hesitantly lifted the hem.

She desperately wanted to correct Meng Zhenyue…

‘Could you please understand? You’re my mom’s girlfriend, maybe, my future… Mommy.’

This despicable woman, Meng Zhenyue, stared down at her lower abdomen, her gaze unwavering, blatantly naked. She stared for a long time, and Yun Zhixue couldn’t bear it, closing her eyes as if she were being humiliated.

“That’s enough, open your eyes.”

Her trembling eyelashes slowly lifted.

Meng Zhenyue lowered her gaze to inspect her abdomen carefully, checking the healing wound. After a moment, she nodded. “Good. You’ve been applying the medicine properly.”

Yun Zhixue’s mind blanked.

The feeling was strange, like being brushed by fire.

Uncomfortable, but not unpleasant.

Meng Zhenyue blew lightly against her cheek, tapped her chin, the scent of green apple sweeping over her. Yun Zhixue’s heart pounded wildly.

Meng Zhenyue blew a breath onto her face, tapping her chin with her finger. The scent of green apples overwhelmed Yun Zhixue, making her face itch, her heart pounding, and she almost lost her balance.

Drunk, Meng Zhenyue’s eyes were brimming with tears. Her hand was on Yun Zhixue’s waist as she asked, “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing. It’s none of your business.” Yun Zhixue grabbed the door, trying to shut it.

“You didn’t admit fault earlier, and you even tried to run away.” Meng Zhenyue said lightly. “So you’ll stand a little longer.”

Drunk women are so annoying. Yun Zhixue stood stiffly until she lightly tapped her forehead with her finger.

After a moment, she tapped her forehead again. “So cute. Seeing you makes today not tiring at all.”

Yun Zhixue retreated to her room, splashed cold water on her face, but her racing pulse wouldn’t calm.

On their third day living together, Yun Jing called during breakfast. The phone was on speaker. The message was simple: Yun Zhixue needed to prepare to return to school.

Her expression changed instantly.

Meng Zhenyue reached for the phone. Yun Zhixue didn’t hand it over.

Meng Zhenyue called Yun Jing directly instead. “She’s still recovering. Why send her back?”

“It’s mid-May. College entrance exams are next month,” Yun Jing replied.

“She just had surgery. What if there’s an infection?”

“She can take care of herself.”

“She’s never had surgery before.”

“The tutor can’t predict exam questions.”

“Hire a better one.”

“No time.”

“The stitches aren’t even out.”

Yun Jing laughed. “You care so much, just be her mother.”

Meng Zhenyue’s eyes lifted slightly. “That’s quite a proposal-”

“I’ll go to school,” Yun Zhixue interrupted sharply. She carried her bowl to the kitchen. She hated being used as a flirtatious bargaining chip.

That day, she went to the hospital alone to have her stitches removed.

When she returned in the afternoon, Meng Zhenyue was sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, watching her without a smile.

“Who said you could remove the stitches?” Her tone was calm but firm. “The doctor said at least seven days.”

This was the first time Meng Zhenyue had reprimanded her, her tone gentle to the point of politeness, yet it sent shivers down Yun Zhixue’s spine, fueling her rebellious spirit. She clenched her clothes, her nails digging deep into her palms.

Yun Zhixue snapped, “What’s it to you?”

The air froze.

Meng Zhenyue placed her phone down gently. “I was the one who carried you to the hospital. That makes it my business.”

Yun Zhixue’s breath caught.

“I bruised my arm getting you there. Was that so you could mistreat yourself?”

Yun Zhixue glanced at her arm, there was indeed a large bruise.

“The doctor said it was fine!” she retorted.

She hated that Meng Zhenyue played the role so convincingly. She was just her mother’s lover.

Meng Zhenyue looked at her steadily.

Yun Zhixue lay in bed all day afterward. Her abdomen hurt; the wound bled slightly. She endured it silently, glancing at the door again and again.

No knock came.

The next morning, she came downstairs with her bag. A car was waiting.

“Eat first,” Meng Zhenyue said.

Yun Zhixue quickly finished breakfast, stuffed her neatly folded uniform and dress into her bag, and left without looking back.

“Drive slowly,” Meng Zhenyue told the driver.

Then she followed on a balancing scooter, keeping just the right distance behind the car.

Yun Zhixue stared stubbornly out the other window, but every time her reflection appeared in the glass, her fingers tightened, unable to resist wanting to look at her.

At the gate of the villa compound, Meng Zhenyue signaled the car to stop and tapped on the window.

“I’ll give you one more chance to change your mind.”

Yun Zhixue said nothing. After a few seconds, she lowered the window and pushed a tube of ointment out.

“Don’t need it.”

Meng Zhenyue drifted away on the scooter, hands in her pockets, bruise still visible on her arm. Only the shadows of plane trees swayed along the long street.

Meng Zhenyue was angry.