Chapter 38: MAMA-38 Part 2

For colleagues who killed work-break time by observing coworkers, Mi Shanxin was like a character who swapped out their default skin for a limited-edition release.

Combined with her personality, which was like one of those mystery box figurines you could randomly pull, everyone was curious about the reason for her change.

“It’s hard to pinpoint. Just like you rejecting my invitation—most people wouldn’t refuse.” Teacher Xiao Zhou smiled. “Sometimes, you’re really quite cold.”

She thought to herself: A cold refusal is also cute.

Teacher Mi was still wearing that butterfly-collar knit top, and her jacket looked like a new release from a certain brand, starting at four figures. Who exactly had such good taste, choosing such perfectly fitted clothes for Mimi’s Teacher Mi, different every day, practically the treatment of a real-life dress-up game Proprietor.

“I… am cold?” Mi Shanxin asked in surprise.

Teacher Xiao Zhou thought: Too cute. Finally exchanged a few words. So small. Looks very ruffle-able.

“A little. Maybe because you rarely smile.” The alumni didn’t elaborate further. “But I heard the kids in your class really like that you don’t smile much.”

Jian Wanji not only matched her outfits, she also laid out what accessories went with each set.

Completely removing any need for Mi Shanxin to think about what to pair with what; worry-free.

“They talk too much.” Mi Shanxin walked towards the classroom. Some kids passed by, loudly calling her Teacher Mickey Mouse.

Xiao Zhou was one year senior to Mi Shanxin, considered an upperclassman. She didn’t force Mi Shanxin to attend, but added one more thing as they parted: “It’d be even better if you could reconsider.”

Mi Shanxin nodded. The other then made a request. “Can I touch the tail of your hair?”

The corridor was empty. Mi Shanxin, with her black-and-green plush sling-style laptop bag, went blank for a few seconds. “I don’t have a tail.”

Teacher Xiao Zhou pointed at Mi Shanxin’s hair. “That part that flicks up here.”

Strange quirk. But Mi Shanxin had already rejected the other’s invitation earlier; refusing again now wouldn’t be good.

The other touched it once and left, leaving Mi Shanxin standing there, utterly baffled.

A meeting dragged on, long and tedious. After it ended, Jian Wanji stood by the window checking her unread messages. The pinned little mother asked: [Am I very nice to touch?]

Jian Wanji had been ignoring this question for a long time now. She truly had no idea how to reply.

Was it a question about that aspect?

She had touched her yesterday, but aside from touching, she mostly used her tongue.

And even that was through a barrier.

Asking like this—was she implying her oral skills weren’t as good as her hand technique?

Jian Wanji had always been very satisfied with her professional capabilities. But this near-voluntary job was more like a torture.

Because she wasn’t the decision-maker. If they really had to compare performance review data, it had to be Mi Shanxin’s call.

She sipped her hot drink, staring blankly at the screen. A hand reached over and took the paper cup she was holding. “Autumn Moon Jujube… Pear… Da Hong Pao?”

Sui Yuqian had appeared at some unknown time. “You’re this into health preservation now?”

Before, Jian Wanji drank iced beverages all year round, taking painkillers like they were meals.

After her stomach surgery, although she no longer wildly downed alcohol, her thermos was still just for show; it was used to keep ice cold more often.

“Are you a ghost? Walking without sound?” Jian Wanji snatched her hot drink back. “Let’s go for an afternoon tea buffet.”

“Already ate before coming.” Sui Yuqian saw she was irritated and restless, and asked, “I heard you’re going on a business trip to Munich. Personally leading the team—isn’t that too big a display of force?”

A few seconds later, she let out an ‘oh.’ “Hiding from a woman.”

Jian Wanji: “I’m not.”

Sui Yuqian: “If I believe you, I’ll voluntarily jump from right here.”

Jian Wanji shrugged. “Then jump.”

The friend, classifiable as a dear old chum, shrugged back, utterly certain. “You’re lying.”

She still had a pack of chips in her pocket. She ate while asking, “I don’t mind giving you free psychological consultation.”

Jian Wanji: “Why don’t you just give me some money instead?”

The friend ignored the jab. “How’s the additional contract going? Is the boss satisfied?”

If anyone passed by, they wouldn’t suspect these two bosses were discussing anything unhealthy. It was even too G-rated; enough to make one want to clock out early.

“Must you ask?” Jian Wanji didn’t really want to say. Sui Yuqian, seeing her frown, knew the situation was getting more thorny and felt even happier about it. “If I don’t ask, no one will.”

“Zeng Baian doesn’t know the specifics. Want me to tell her?”

“Don’t. If she finds out, she’ll come slap me.” Jian Wanji drank two mouthfuls of her health tea in agony. “The boss is satisfied. Very satisfied. So, are you satisfied now?”

Sui Yuqian’s hair was down, pinned back on one side. Seeing Jian Wanji’s suffering seemed to elevate her mood. “Elaborate.”

Jian Wanji shook off the hand on her shoulder. “No obligation to elaborate.”

Sui Yuqian wiggled her phone. “Then I’ll just ask Teacher Shanxin directly.”

Compared to Jian Wanji’s wavering, wave-drawn tone when saying ‘Mi Shanxin,’ Sui Yuqian said ‘Teacher Mi Shanxin’ with the style of a generation’s grandmaster. Jian Wanji, from some unknown source, felt a flare of nameless temper. She asked, “You two chat privately often?”

“Only just exchanged contacts recently, how could it be often?” Sui Yuqian was rich in romantic experience, unlike Jian Wanji, who was a paper tiger, just superficially intimidating. She laughed. “Feeling unhappy inside, aren’t you? Thinking that Teacher Shanxin is usually so quiet and withdrawn, yet she actually messages me. Why doesn’t she message you?”

“Cut the mental theatrics,” Jian Wanji rubbed her temples. “I don’t think that.”

But she didn’t deny that Sui Yuqian had guessed part of it right. She also didn’t elaborate, just asked: “What does she ask you about?”

“All about you.” Sui Yuqian didn’t hide it, generously handing her phone over for Jian Wanji to see. “She’s very curious about your past.”

“What past do I have?” Jian Wanji clicked her tongue. “No romantic history.”

Sui Yuqian ate her chips, crunch crunch. “Who knows if that’s a blank romantic record, letting people freely interpret it? What if the kid lets her imagination run wild, suspects every single person she sees, what then?”

“And there’s that Thai rich lady. Speaking of which, haven’t seen her updates in a while.”

Jian Wanji was annoyed just listening to Sui Yuqian eating chips. An hour ago, ordering her drink, she still tried to be somewhat health-conscious. Now she was self-destructing, grabbing Sui Yuqian’s chips and pouring them into her own mouth, devoid of any elegance. “Stop fabricating nonexistent things for me.”

“I’m really not fabricating.” The friend was gloating over Jian Wanji’s misfortune. “Are you afraid your image in Stand-in Mommy’s heart will be damaged?”

Jian Wanji: “No such thing.”

Even though she had spent a night in insomnia, and drunk ten-times concentrated Americano in the morning, she was still firmly resolved not to breach the contract.

She and Mi Shanxin couldn’t continue. When the contract expired, even if Grandmother hadn’t passed on, they had to break this off too.

Putting aside Mi Shanxin, Jian Wanji was walking a tightrope. These nights of being at the mercy of the other’s body, yet having to endure, caused her intense pain.

She understood this wasn’t love at first bloom. More accurately, it was affection turning sour.

But anyone would be good to Mi Shanxin, because she deserved it.

When gazed at by those eyes, one couldn’t help but want to give her everything.

“Keep being stubborn. By the time you regret it, it’ll be too late.” Sui Yuqian had experience in this area. “Sometimes instinct isn’t a bad thing.”

She was also curious, asking Jian Wanji: “You’re giving unilaterally. Don’t you have any thoughts of your own?”

Jian Wanji glanced at her. Only then did Sui Yuqian notice her eyes were full of bloodshot veins. She let out an “Ah,” saying, “Such heavy internal heat. Have a bowl of luffa soup to reduce the inflammation.”

What season was this, where would luffa soup come from. Jian Wanji couldn’t even laugh. “Go away.”

Just as Sui Yuqian left, a new message from Little Mother arrived.

Jian Wanji felt she shouldn’t have ordered hot tea; she should have ordered something iced. Even if her stomach bled, she’d accept it.

Little Mother: [Don’t misunderstand. I meant, is my hair very nice to touch?]

Little Mother: [A colleague asked to touch the ends of my hair.]

Mi Shanxin also sent a selfie. Clearly, she had little experience with selfies. Her technique was as awkward and dull as her vlogging, relying entirely on her innate, sculpted features to carry it.

The girl traced her hair tips and sent another message: [You’re just not interested in this part of me.]

Jian Wanji knew her desires were very heavy, and she spoke very bluntly.

For example, asking Jian Wanji if she self-pleasured, inquiring about her physical desires, as if these desires were as easily spoken of as eating and drinking, without any barrier.

Calling Mi Shanxin shameless was too harsh. She was more like someone who had broken free of some shackle. Too pure, so her desires were also pure white. Forcing Jian Wanji to physically cool down every time she went home.

She suppressed and blocked certain scenes from invading her dreams, yet couldn’t restrain her own body in those dreams.

She bound the innocent girl, called her Mama. Even though she refused Mi Shanxin’s suggestion of writing on her body with a calligraphy brush, in her heart, she described her, traced her the most.

Jian Wanji didn’t even know why she cared so much about that indentation where the underwire of Mi Shanxin’s bra dug into her ribcage.

That spot sunken from the tight clasp. Because it was too barren, it was hard for it to cast a shadow under the lamp. She devoured it voraciously through a layer of barrier, as if wanting to turn Mi Shanxin into a real mother.

Maybe this cup of health tea wasn’t very healthful. Maybe Sui Yuqian’s mocking laughter had hit its mark.

Jian Wanji knew that working up to this age, it was unlikely for anything to be without flaws.

Mi Shanxin wasn’t a project. She wasn’t strictly work. She didn’t require Jian Wanji to chase people onto the endlessly flowing elevated highway, or pursue them to a private courtyard to beg for a chance.

Compared to real work, Mi Shanxin was too easily within reach.

She lived up to her name—Shanxin—showing great mercy. Seeing the elderly woman on death’s door and Jian Wanji feigning filial piety, her heart softened.

Money wasn’t the most critical link.

The girl seemed to think the bond between Jian Wanji and Wan Qingqing was like the one she shared with her grandfather, a testament of last wishes, which was why she agreed to this commission, playing the role of Jian Wanji’s deceased mother.

She also didn’t know Jian Wanji and Wan Qingqing resented each other, yet couldn’t completely abandon one another.

As a child, Grandma fought to become her guardian, raised her, even if the process lacked kindness.

Growing up, the financially independent Jian Wanji also had to conform to social reputation and be a Dutiful Daughter. This was one of the sources of her public image, just like men in business who peddle the persona of a devoted husband—seemingly a universally valid pass.

As for true feelings, it was probably just years of mutual torment.

Living expenses docked for not scoring first place. Forcing Jian Wanji to attend her mother’s alma mater. All connected later to her university major.

There were threats of suicide. There was the withholding of inheritance, until the old woman realized she could no longer hold her estranged granddaughter’s belongings hostage anymore. She finally understood Jian Wanji was a living, breathing person.

So Wan Qingqing went to live in the nursing home. Jian Wanji bought a very nice apartment to live in alone.

The old woman’s nursing home room was piled high with musty mementos, mostly related to Wan Lingling. Jian Wanji’s home was empty of everything. She even wanted to throw herself away.

In the eyes of the three generations at Chunhua Restaurant, this grandparent and grandchild got along very well, just like the beautiful legend of Jian Wanji’s parents dying for love back then.

Jian Wanji didn’t want solemn vows. She also feared life-and-death devotion. Even more, she feared the haunting persistence of longing.

But why could Mi Shanxin, through mere physical presence, disturb her thoughts, making her sleepless all night?

At such a young age, Mi Shanxin’s level of allure was already at the Ascension to Immortal level.

Jian Wanji suddenly understood why Sui Yuqian said she couldn’t possibly handle this without having been in a relationship.

Jian Wanji, older in years but not in experience, had no immunity to parry this. Trapped within this additional contract she thought she’d resolve easily, she had developed inappropriate desires.

Her crime deserved a thousand deaths.