Chapter 25: Blockhead

Ji Fan and Ye Wenzhu huddled by the partition, eavesdropping the whole way.

Ye Wenzhu, realizing their sneaky behavior wasn’t quite right, tugged Ji Fan’s sleeve.

“Fanfan, is this okay? Us listening like this?”

Ji Fan sat back, brushing her dirtied sleeve.

“Wenzhu-jie, first time I’ve heard you say something’s not right.”

Ye Wenzhu coughed awkwardly, clearing her throat. “I’m just worried about your sister. You’re no better, sneaking a listen, and you dare call me out.”

“She’s my sister. It’s normal to care.”

Ji Fan leaned back, pondering. “I always thought Sis and Professor Jiang were enemies. Who’d guess in a few days they’d go from foes to lovers? It’s unreal, like a novel’s plot.”

Ye Wenzhu rested her head against the window. “Weren’t they online dating? Ji Pei said it’s been a month or two.”

“So they didn’t recognize each other before?”

Ye Wenzhu stroked her smooth chin. “Your sister’s pretty straightforward, but Professor Jiang? I’m not sure. She’s sharp—might’ve figured it out early.”

Ye Wenzhu slapped her thigh, belatedly realizing how hard Ji Pei got played, fuming.

“Damn, Jiang Xihan’s a cunning fox!”

Said cunning fox sat in the passenger seat.

Draped in Ji Pei’s coat, Jiang Xihan inhaled a faint scent—roses and fruit, sweet but not cloying.

“Did you wear perfume coming here?”

Ji Pei, driving, shook her head, puzzled. “Nope.”

Jiang Xihan lifted the sleeve, sniffing lightly. “Why’s your coat so fragrant?”

“Probably the detergent.”

Ji Pei didn’t care for perfume. The fancy bottles at home were her mom, Liu Yanfen’s, collection.

Once, Meiqiu knocked over a bottle worth over 200,000 yuan. The sweet, heavy scent lingered a week, and Ji Pei swore off it since.

“Perfume makes me dizzy. I don’t like it…”

Before she finished, Jiang Xihan’s hair brushed her neck.

Soft strands tickled below her ear, warm breath hitting her skin.

Ji Pei’s face flushed instantly. She sat stiffly, eyes forward, hearing Jiang Xihan say, “You smell nice.”

If they hadn’t already been together, Ji Pei would’ve called the cops for harassment.

But now…

She was kind of enjoying it.

Jiang Xihan sat to her right. Ji Pei feigned resistance, but her heart was thrilled, her left lip corner refusing to drop.

She didn’t want Jiang Xihan to see her secret glee.

During their online chats, Ji Pei sent shameless texts, exciting yet awkward at first, forgotten over time.

But now, Jiang Xihan—Professor Jiang, her online girlfriend—was in her passenger seat, teasing her (successfully).

Driving, Ji Pei’s mind replayed their Fenbei chats.

Dongri said plenty of bold things, etched in Ji Pei’s memory. She couldn’t reconcile the flirty Dongri with the composed Jiang Xihan beside her.

Dongri was all talk; Jiang Xihan was steadier, far more proper.

As Ji Pei thought this, a hand silently grazed her thigh, kneading lightly.

Ji Pei glanced down.

Alright, they were the same person now.

***

From the bridge to the Michelin restaurant, Ji Pei’s mind was mush.

She should’ve guessed Dongri was Jiang Xihan.

That time she subbed for Ji Fan in class, they were less than ten meters apart, and Jiang Xihan was the only woman in her thirties there.

She’d considered cleaners, age fakers, even men—but not the woman at the podium.

No wonder Jiang Xihan teased her constantly, with subtle moves. She knew Jifeng was Ji Pei all along.

Ji Pei felt tricked but relieved. Thank goodness Dongri was Jiang Xihan—the perfect ending.

“Professor Jiang, what kind of food do you like?”

Ji Pei asked casually, turning to see Jiang Xihan’s gaze.

“Anything you like?”

The restaurant Ji Pei chose was a chain with locations nationwide.

She hadn’t brought Jiang Xihan before, feeling too conspicuous there, staff always hovering.

But bringing her girlfriend meant top-tier service and ingredients.

“Something I like…”

Jiang Xihan thought, smiling. “I liked the steamed egg you made when my foot was sprained.”

Ji Pei caught the flirtation, pursing her lips. “We can’t always eat at home. Gotta try restaurants.”

“This chain was my mom’s idea. She loves money and food.”

Jiang Xihan asked, “You cook so well. Influenced by your mom?”

Ji Pei thought, intellectuals sure love idioms.

“Yeah, Mom loves cooking, experimenting with cuisines. Growing up, Dad, my sister, and I ate her dark cuisine, praising every bite.”

Recalling plump Liu Yanfen’s cooking disasters, Ji Pei’s memories darkened.

“Once, she made cold wood ear salad with leftovers. Nearly sent our family of four to the afterlife.”

Ji Pei sighed. “Good thing it was bad, or you wouldn’t have met me. I’ve sworn off wood ear since, no matter who makes it.”

Jiang Xihan’s lips closed, pondering the high-end restaurant.

Seeing her hesitate, Ji Pei worried her story scared her.

“Don’t worry, Mom learned from a state banquet chef for years. Her cooking’s amazing now, even Western dishes.”

***

Before reaching the restaurant, Ji Pei lowered the partition. The two eavesdroppers, unbelted, yelped and fell forward.

Through the rearview, Ji Pei saw their state, scoffing. She knew they were listening.

Ye Wenzhu nearly chipped a tooth but, guilty, just rubbed her nose.

“Peipei, warn us next time! Almost lost my front teeth.”

Ji Pei parked, flipping Ye Wenzhu off in the mirror.

“Eavesdrop again, and I’ll knock them out.”

Her license plate was recognizable. Spotting the Rolls-Royce, the restaurant sent seven or eight staff to greet them.

Another grand welcome. Ji Pei glanced at the manager’s flair, smiling. “Dear, they’re too enthusiastic. Ignore them.”

The manager respectfully opened Ji Pei’s door.

“Miss Ji, honored you’re here today.”

Ji Pei gently held Jiang Xihan’s arm. “Brought my girlfriend for lunch.”

Seeing Ji Fan, the manager bowed. “Second Miss, hello.”

Guests stared, whispering, eyeing the four.

If they were average-looking, they’d draw less attention, but all four could debut on the spot.

Holding Jiang Xihan’s hand, Ji Pei, unbothered by stares, interlocked their fingers openly.

Ji Fan and Ye Wenzhu, behind, whispered.

“Why’s your sister acting like a peacock? Like she’s on a wedding carpet, shouting their relationship to the world.”

Ji Fan nodded. “You’re right.”

***

The manager, sharp, saw the young boss clinging to another woman, clearly in love, and led them to a couple’s private room.

Inside, Ji Pei froze. The table was covered in red roses, plates and candles in heart shapes.

A band in the corner began playing “Dream Wedding” on violin as the door opened.

“…”

The elegant violin notes made Ji Pei pinch her brow.

She just wanted a simple meal, not a candlelit lunch with this fuss.

“This…”

Ji Pei pulled out Jiang Xihan’s chair, whispering, “Like it? If the band’s too much, I’ll send them out.”

Jiang Xihan’s hand grazed Ji Pei’s face, smiling. “Let them finish this piece.”

The song ended, and lunch proceeded.

Ji Pei eyed the heart-shaped foie gras on a gilded ceramic plate, slicing it in half.

Why was she embarrassed eating with her girlfriend?

Looking up, she saw Jiang Xihan’s gaze on her plate.

After foie gras, a heart-shaped steak arrived.

Ji Pei: “…”

It wasn’t like this before. The manager’s doing, though thoughtful.

Jiang Xihan gracefully cut her medium-rare steak, wiping her lips with a napkin.

Candlelight glowed warmly. The band left, no romantic music playing.

Yet, through the flickering red candles, Ji Pei found the scene intensely romantic—maybe because Jiang Xihan shed her coat.

The room’s temperature was perfect, but Ji Pei, in her black turtleneck, felt hot.

She tugged her collar, wiping forehead sweat with a napkin while Jiang Xihan wasn’t looking.

Was it the heat or Jiang Xihan? She couldn’t tell.

Watching Jiang Xihan eat, Ji Pei found her own food bland.

There’s an idiom—beauty that’s a feast for the eyes.

Yes, that described Jiang Xihan now.

“Why’re you staring? Not eating?”

Jiang Xihan’s words snapped Ji Pei back. She set down her utensils, hearing Jiang Xihan’s laugh.

“Not to your taste?”

“No.”

The moment felt right. Ji Pei couldn’t resist something flirty.

“I was… distracted watching you…”

Her ears burned, red and hot. She lowered her head, cutting steak to shut herself up.

Seeing Ji Pei’s shyness, Jiang Xihan wanted to tease more but held back.

Ji Pei’s fair skin flushed pink when shy, especially her cheeks.

Jiang Xihan had noticed often, especially holding Ji Pei’s hand, observing her fingers.

Long, slender, with faintly pink knuckles—a perfect pair.

Those hands could paint, sculpt, with delicate yet strong skin, capable of gripping a slim waist.

Jiang Xihan’s eyes darkened, finishing her last bite of beef.

After dessert, Ji Pei wiped cream from her lips.

Her full lips, a healthy pink, were the dream shape others coveted.

With melted cream, they glistened, parting to reveal white teeth.

Just watching Ji Pei’s mouth, Jiang Xihan gripped her napkin, nails digging in.

After half a glass of wine, Ji Pei’s face flushed, like she’d been dipped in sweet rose juice.

She’d told Jiang Xihan her tolerance was low; even red wine tipsy her.

Seeing Ji Pei’s state, Jiang Xihan steadied her chaotic breathing, leaning forward.

Ji Pei’s eyes misted, dazedly watching Jiang Xihan’s move.

A soft fingertip lifted Ji Pei’s smooth chin.

Knowing what was coming, Ji Pei held her breath, parting her lips.

The next second, Jiang Xihan wiped the cream off with a napkin, smiling. “Missed some cream.”

Ji Pei: “…”

Damn, tricked again.

Thought it was a kiss, just wiping cream.

Seeing Ji Pei’s disappointment, Jiang Xihan smirked.

“What’s wrong?”

Ji Pei huffed, voice nasal. “Nothing.”

Unhappy, wanting a kiss, but lacking the guts.

She thought Jiang Xihan would kiss her, not just wipe cream.

Ji Pei licked her lips hard, caught by Jiang Xihan.

Finishing her wine, Ji Pei realized she drove and couldn’t after drinking.

Leaving the room, she draped her coat over Jiang Xihan, holding her slightly cool hand, warming it.

Ji Fan and Ye Wenzhu finished eating too. Unfortunately, Ye Wenzhu drank and couldn’t drive.

Ji Fan raised her hand eagerly, pulling out her license.

“Sis! I’ll drive! Look, I brought my license!”

Ji Pei, expressionless, called a driver.

Ye Wenzhu, never in Ji Fan’s car, poked Ji Pei’s shoulder seeing Ji Fan’s pout.

“Give Fanfan some trust. She’s sober with a license—great practice.”

Ji Pei glanced at pitiful Ji Fan, sighing.

“If you’d seen her crash two Porsches, send someone to the hospital, and nearly suffocate herself with an airbag, you’d know why she’s not driving.”

Patting Ye Wenzhu’s shoulder, Ji Pei turned to Jiang Xihan. “This is for all our safety. Let her drive, or I get a driver?”

Ye Wenzhu touched Ji Fan’s head, teary. “Sweetie, I’m not ready to die. Your sister just got a girlfriend. Let’s not play risky.”

Whispering to Ji Pei, Ye Wenzhu asked, “Did her driving instructor bribe someone? How’d she pass?”

Ji Pei shrugged, clueless.

Five minutes later, the driver arrived.

But seeing the Rolls-Royce, he canceled, saying he couldn’t drive it.

So, the four stayed at the restaurant. Ji Pei called Uncle Zhang, their family driver, to pick them up.

Uncle Zhang arrived in a Bentley. Ji Pei held Jiang Xihan’s hand, sitting in the back.

As Ji Fan and Ye Wenzhu tried to board, Ji Pei said, “Uncle Zhang, lock the doors.”

The silver Bentley sped off, leaving Ji Fan and Ye Wenzhu in exhaust fumes.

Finally, Ye Wenzhu, nagged by Ji Fan, took the Rolls-Royce’s passenger seat.

She buckled up, wishing for extra straps.

***

Ditching the tagalongs, Ji Pei held Jiang Xihan’s hand, lazily leaning on her shoulder.

“Let’s enjoy our alone time.”

Slightly tipsy, Ji Pei was clingier, bolder.

Her left arm wrapped Jiang Xihan’s waist, refusing to let go, feeling light as if on a soft cloud.

Uncle Zhang, through the rearview, saw everything, eyes wide.

A Ji family veteran, he’d watched Ji Pei grow up, never seeing her this clingy.

His gaze shifted to the woman Ji Pei held, her expression relaxed and indulgent.

Uncle Zhang shook his head, blaming his recent obsession with “Domineering CEO’s Fierce Love” for popping “indulgent” thoughts into his mind.

He raised the partition.

The car felt small. Ji Pei, cooled by the breeze, sobered up.

Jiang Xihan’s shoulder numbed under her weight. As Ji Pei sat up, her ears were red.

Jiang Xihan stretched her shoulder, pinching Ji Pei’s hot, soft earlobe.

“What’s up?”

Ji Pei rubbed Jiang Xihan’s shoulder. “Was I too heavy?”

Jiang Xihan’s hand rested on Ji Pei’s, kneading her skin.

“Not at all. Keep leaning.”

Ji Pei’s voice was nasal. She sipped water. “My tolerance is low. Even red wine gets me.”

Jiang Xihan gazed out. “Where are we going? Not home?”

“…”

Home?

Jiang Xihan wanted to go home with her already?

She wasn’t ready.

“Dear, my parents… I haven’t…”

Jiang Xihan poked Ji Pei’s head, smiling. “Silly, not what I meant.”

“Then I’ll find a chance to take you to meet them.”

Ji Pei snuggled closer, clinging, impulsively kissing Jiang Xihan’s cheek.

“I want to meet your parents too.”

A warm, soft touch grazed her cheek, fleeting like a dragonfly’s kiss.

“They’re gone. Just me and my sister.”

Ji Pei: “…”

What’s with these days? Yesterday she hurt Aunt Shen; today, Jiang Xihan.

Her voice softened, apologetic. “I didn’t mean to.”

Jiang Xihan patted her back. “Everyone faces life and death. Look forward.”

Seeing Ji Pei nestled like a soft cat, Jiang Xihan’s heart melted.

“You still haven’t said where we’re going.”

Ji Pei showed her phone’s art photos.

“The art gallery, where I helped yesterday.”

Jiang Xihan’s focus shifted. “The woman who invited you to dinner?”

Ji Pei sat up, pocketing her phone.

“Professor Jiang, you’re an intellectual. Why so petty?”

Jiang Xihan’s lips curved. “Who said intellectuals must be selfless?”

Ji Pei muttered, “Such possessiveness.”

A thought struck her.

“Professor Jiang, if—hypothetically—I ran, would you catch me and lock me in a dark room?”

Poisoned by CEO novels, Ji Pei imagined dramatic chases.

Jiang Xihan, not catching the joke, nodded seriously after a pause.

“You could try.”

Ji Pei: “…”

Why was she suddenly eager to try?

***

The gallery was in another district. Uncle Zhang drove twenty minutes, dropping them off.

Initially, Ji Pei worried Dongri wouldn’t like art exhibitions, but now it was fine.

A refined intellectual like Professor Jiang surely appreciated high art.

Aside from her touchy habits, she was a near-perfect human.

Shen Yuan, waiting, hadn’t seen Ji Pei. Ten minutes ago, Ji Pei texted she was bringing her girlfriend.

Then she saw a Bentley. Ji Pei stepped out.

Shen Yuan smiled, approaching, then froze seeing Jiang Xihan.

Why was she with Ji Pei?

Her girlfriend… couldn’t be her.

“…”

After countless guesses, seeing Jiang Xihan hold Ji Pei’s hand confirmed it. Shen Yuan took a deep breath.

“Aunt Shen, sorry we’re late. Traffic.”

Seeing their clasped hands, Shen Yuan smiled. “No worries, it’s less crowded now.”

Her gaze fell on Jiang Xihan, surprised. “President Jiang, you’re here?”

Ji Pei stared curiously at Jiang Xihan, grinning. “President Jiang.”

Shen Yuan gasped, trembling with employee-facing-boss nerves.

How hadn’t she realized Ji Pei’s cute girlfriend was her boss?

If Ji Pei knew Jiang Xihan’s commanding presence at work, would she still cling so tightly?

“It’s not work hours. We’re not boss and subordinate. Relax.”

Despite her words, the pressure was palpable. Ji Pei sensed something off.

Aunt Shen seemed scared of Jiang Xihan.

Normal—employees avoid bosses.

Ji Pei led Jiang Xihan. “Let’s go in.”

Inside, Shen Yuan wanted to guide Jiang Xihan, but Ji Pei saw her discomfort.

“Aunt Shen, I’ll give President Jiang a private tour.”

After Shen Yuan left, Jiang Xihan’s lips curved faintly, repeating, “President Jiang?”

Ji Pei leaned on a glass case, grinning uncontrollably.

“Isn’t it true? You scared Aunt Shen away.”

Jiang Xihan eyed a Gothic vase, smiling. “I didn’t do anything.”

Ji Pei was eager to show her artwork but held back, wanting Jiang Xihan’s honest opinion.

Was bringing her girlfriend to a dull art exhibit on their first in-person day a bad idea?

Ji Pei sneaked a peek at her phone’s dating guide, listing over a hundred date ideas.

While Jiang Xihan wasn’t looking, she scanned a few.

First: Take your partner to a horror movie. When scared, hold her hand, comfort her.

Ji Pei nixed it. She was terrified of ghosts.

As a kid, her parents left her alone to date, leaving a disc.

The screen flashed four terrifying words: *The Grudge*.

Hugging a doll, Ji Pei cried through it, leaving a deep fear of blue clothes.

Second: Take your partner to a haunted house. When NPCs scare her, hug and comfort her.

Ji Pei: “…”

Why always something scary?

About to check the third, Jiang Xihan approached.

“What’re you looking at?”

Ji Pei, stammering when lying, said, “Just… browsing.”

They stopped at a vibrant red bellflower painting. Ji Pei, recognizing her work, tried to move on.

Painted three years ago, she hadn’t wanted Shen Yuan to display it, but Shen Yuan insisted.

“Professor Jiang, there’s Suzhou embroidery over there.”

Jiang Xihan didn’t budge, staring at the bellflower’s wormholes.

“Professor Jiang, what’s…”

Seeing Ji Pei’s signature, Jiang Xihan’s eyes lit up.

“You painted this?”

Ji Pei nodded shyly. “Yeah, at eighteen. My skills weren’t great…”

“It’s beautiful.”

Jiang Xihan admired the perfect bellflowers with artful wormholes. “Why wormholes?”

The word triggered bad memories for Ji Pei.

“I thought the bellflowers were pretty, kept them by my bed. One night, I found bugs.”

Ji Pei rubbed her goosebumps. “Terrifying.”

Traumatized, inspiration struck, and she painted this, turning the flowers fiery red.

Who knew such a story lay behind it? Often, unintentional art becomes timeless.

Jiang Xihan wanted to buy it but knew it belonged in the gallery for others to see.

With praise or critique, the painting’s life was fulfilled.

Ji Pei thought Jiang Xihan wouldn’t care for the exhibit, but she loved it.

She lingered at Ji Pei’s works, snapping photos, making Ji Pei shy.

“Why blush again? Art’s meant for interpretation.”

Jiang Xihan smiled, pinching Ji Pei’s warm cheek. “Don’t think I’m biased because of you.”

Pinched in public, Ji Pei squirmed. “Got it.”

***

Ji Pei stayed with Jiang Xihan until afternoon, studying her dating guide. Besides haunted houses, other ideas were fine.

“You’ve been distracted all afternoon. What’s on your mind?”

Jiang Xihan sat in the rest area, holding a water bottle.

Ji Pei twisted it open, handing it over.

“Thinking how to make you happy.”

Her gaze fell on Jiang Xihan’s foot. “We walked a lot. Does it hurt?”

Jiang Xihan’s slight heels were stiffer, but she felt okay.

“Not much. Doctor said not to rest too much—keep moving.”

Considering her ankle, Ji Pei decided to head home.

At dusk, around four or five, Ji Pei called Uncle Zhang to take them home.

***

On the way, Jiang Xihan noticed they were heading to Ji Pei’s Maple Grove villa.

“Where are we going?”

Ji Pei scratched Jiang Xihan’s palm. “The villa.”

Jiang Xihan’s lips curved, brow raised. “Didn’t you say once my foot’s better, I’d return to S City?”

Ji Pei played dumb. “I never said that.”

After a pause, she added, “You’re not fully healed. I’m not okay with you going back. Stay at my place for a hundred or two days.”

“Why a hundred or two?”

Ji Pei explained, “It takes a hundred days to heal bones. For full recovery, maybe two hundred?”

Jiang Xihan laughed, her ink-like brows arching. “You’re right.”

***

Jiang Xihan no longer needed a caretaker; Ji Pei could handle it.

Feeling Aunt Wang was unnecessary, Ji Pei gave her a break.

In the big villa, just the two of them, Jiang Xihan sat on the sofa, removing her shoes. Ji Pei lifted her right foot.

After much walking, the ankle was slightly swollen.

Ji Pei grabbed an ice pack, wrapping it in a towel, pressing it gently with a pained look.

“My fault, dragging you to the exhibit. Your foot’s swollen.”

Throwing caution aside, Ji Pei’s fingers pressed Jiang Xihan’s ankle.

Smooth, pale skin marked red briefly, then faded.

Jiang Xihan, always in long sleeves and pants, wasn’t heat-prone, just cold-sensitive.

Rarely sun-exposed, her skin was softer, paler than most.

***

Dinner time came. Ji Pei let Jiang Xihan watch TV while she cooked.

After a Western lunch, Chinese dinner would soothe the stomach.

Jiang Xihan wasn’t picky, unlike novel CEOs with stomach issues or disorders.

Washing vegetables, Ji Pei poked her head out. “Eat green onions?”

“Yes.”

“Cilantro?”

“Yes.”

Everything.

Ji Pei, holding green onions, asked, “Your stomach’s fine, right?”

Jiang Xihan laughed. “What could be wrong with it?”

Ji Pei eyed her. “CEOs in books always have stomach issues or weird conditions. I’m just checking.”

Jiang Xihan’s knuckle grazed Ji Pei’s nose.

“Nothing wrong. I’m healthy.”

Withdrawing her hand, Jiang Xihan noticed foundation on her finger, hiding it.

“Also, I’m not a CEO. I’m a chairman.”

Ji Pei grabbed her pig apron, flicking the onions. “Alright, Chairman Jiang.”

***

In the kitchen, Ji Pei stir-fried while a pork rib soup simmered.

Her loose apron slipped. Setting down the pan to tie it, she felt soft hands.

“Chairman Jiang, mind tying my apron?”

Jiang Xihan chuckled, hugging Ji Pei from behind, grabbing the apron strings.

“Chairman Jiang? So many titles. No more ‘dear’?”

Ji Pei, spatula in hand, shoulders twitching, had tied her hair up, exposing her slender, pale neck.

Jiang Xihan’s hair brushed it, tickling. Ji Pei tilted her head, no use.

“Kitchen’s smoky. Go wait—I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Jiang Xihan didn’t leave. After tying the apron, her hands slid to Ji Pei’s waist, rubbing through the soft sweater.

“Your waist is so slim.”

Ji Pei tensed as Jiang Xihan felt her toned muscles.

“Nice abs.”

Her soft fingers slipped under the sweater, tracing smooth muscles. Jiang Xihan’s eyes darkened, unwilling to stop.

Ji Pei wanted to shoo her out. How could she misbehave in the kitchen?

“Jiang Xihan, stop. I’m cooking.”

“Cooking’s more important than me?”

“We’re together now. Why so shy, like a blockhead?”

“You can do other things while cooking.”

“You could do the same to me.”

Jiang Xihan’s lips grazed Ji Pei’s earlobe, arms tight around her slim waist, reluctant to let go.

Ji Pei flipped the pan, worried the tomatoes would burn, while holding Jiang Xihan’s hand to stop her mischief.

Jiang Xihan, proper outside, turned into Dongri at home alone.

“What’re you up to?”

Ji Pei, back to Jiang Xihan, felt unsafe, dodging warily.

Jiang Xihan’s husky voice pierced her eardrum, chin resting on Ji Pei’s shoulder, rubbing her jaw.

“Be good, don’t move. Let me kiss you.”