Chapter 36: The Schemed School Beauty (6)

Another clash with Fu Siwan, and Bai Qian lost miserably once again—this time because her skin just wasn’t thick enough.

At that moment, the young girl actually seemed more like the adult, offering her earnest advice. “Auntie, you have to remember this: either don’t touch me at all from now on, or if you really want to, don’t chicken out once you start.”

What could Bai Qian say to that? Absolutely nothing.

Fortunately, she had important tasks ahead, and in the midst of her busyness, she completely forgot about that little interlude at the dinner table.

The weekend was only two days long, and it passed in the blink of an eye.

For the first time, Bai Qian had become a mother without any of the pain—and with her lingering pity for Fu Siwan, after just those two short days of living together, she already cherished the girl as if she were a newborn fresh from her own womb.

The house was only a ten-minute walk from school, and Fu Siwan was, after all, a perfectly normal eighteen-year-old girl. But Bai Qian still couldn’t bring herself to relax.

Tossing and turning in bed without a wink of sleep, she finally got up, knocked on the door to the secondary bedroom, and announced her decision to drive Fu Siwan to school the next day.

The girl rejected her without a second thought. “Auntie, I’m already an adult. I can go to school on my own!”

“You’ve never been there before, and the school doesn’t even allow phones. Just let me take you on the first day—I promise you’ll be able to go by yourself after that.”

Fu Siwan sounded thoroughly impatient. “I already checked the directions on my phone. It’s a straight shot from the neighborhood. Relax, I’ll get to school just fine.”

Bai Qian started to protest, but Fu Siwan had already pulled a sour face, climbed out of bed, slammed the door right in her face with a loud bang, and locked it for good measure.

“…”

Heartbroken and utterly helpless, the woman slunk back to her own room in defeat.

The next morning, Bai Qian’s first order of business was rousing the little one from bed.

She knocked for ages with no answer, then tried the door handle. Click—it swung open.

Fu Siwan was nowhere to be seen in the room. Bai Qian searched all the way to the dining room, where she finally spotted a note held down on the table by a glass.

The handwriting was a bit sloppy, unmistakably Fu Siwan’s.

【I’ve gone to school. If you want me to study hard, don’t call me for the next few days. Bye.】

Bai Qian felt like all her goodwill had been wasted. Whining to herself with teary eyes, she thought an “independent eighteen-year-old girl” was the least cute thing imaginable!

She had braced herself for a tough few days without seeing the girl, but reality turned out to be the exact opposite.

The first day was rough—Bai Qian struggled to adjust, zoning out constantly at work as worries plagued her. Would Fu Siwan adapt to the new environment? Would the other students, already tight-knit in their cliques, shun the newcomer?

By the second day, her demanding workload left no room for such excessive fretting over Fu Siwan.

Soon after, she might have forgotten entirely about the half-wild rabbit she was raising at home—if she didn’t occasionally glance at her phone during downtime.

~~~

Friday.

Fu Siwan pressed her finger to the lock, and the door clicked open. She braced herself for whatever barrage of greetings the woman might unleash.

The mere thought of enduring a full evening of that incessant nagging made her head throb.

The woman was only twenty-eight, for heaven’s sake—why did her lectures sound like they came from someone in their forties or fifties?

Fu Siwan knew full well she was taking shameless advantage of the woman’s indulgence. Without her, she’d already have been coerced by Li Lanzhao into the arms of some balding creep with a face full of acne scars and a mouthful of yellow teeth—instead of escaping that suffocating hellhole she’d barely survived for eighteen years.

Human flaws were innate, after all.

Get spoiled even a little, and you’d start pushing your luck.

Get cherished, and complacency would inevitably follow.

Fu Siwan was painfully aware of her own ingratitude. The woman was her literal savior, yet here she was repaying kindness with attitude. Put anyone else in that position, and they’d call her a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

She knew her shortcomings inside out but had no desire to fix them.

It was all the woman’s fault for spoiling her—for plucking a fragile dodder vine from the brink of death with her gentleness and patience, a plant that couldn’t survive on its own.

What else could the dodder do but cling to its towering host tree and siphon away its nutrients?

The house was utterly still. Fu Siwan glanced at the empty shoe rack in the entryway and concluded the woman wasn’t home yet.

She juiced herself a glass of fruit, then sipped slowly from the vibrant cup until it was drained dry.

Thirst sated, the girl headed back to her room.

A wide desk sat before the bed, backed against a white wall adorned with a single sheet of A4 paper.

Scrawled boldly across the center in marker pen were the woman’s words: “Study hard! Aim high every day!” Childish and laughable.

Over the past few days at school, Fu Siwan hadn’t cracked a single book—just like always.

A habit people carved out for themselves couldn’t be undone by a few pep talks from well-meaning outsiders.

She had long forgotten the last time she truly focused on her studies—it must have been years ago. The only thing etched vividly in her memory was a venomous phrase spat from Li Lanzhao’s foul mouth:

“What’s the point of studying so hard? I didn’t give birth to a beauty like you just to bury your nose in books. You need to use that face of yours, hook those men, make them empty their pockets for you—that’s how you make something of yourself!”

Li Lanzhao spewed words like that every single day. When Fu Siwan was little, she had dared to talk back, only to have her face swollen by a flying slipper.

The woman had locked her in the room without a scrap of food for a full day and night before letting her out, her face dark as she demanded to know if Fu Siwan knew her mistake now—and if she would properly go out and seduce men from then on.

Fu Siwan didn’t want to die. She was terrified of pain. So from that day forward, she changed.

She had often pictured how her life would end: maybe someday in a dingy motel room with some married old creep, caught in the act by his furious wife who lunged at her, determined to beat her to death.

The man who had just whispered “baby, I’d die for you” with his filthy lips would cower in the corner, watching helplessly as the woman clawed at her throat and yanked her hair in a frenzy of blows.

If she survived that first time, there would be a next one, and another after that, until the final round. She would end up like a puddle of muck on those sour, stinking bargain-bin sheets.

She had scripted her own grim finale long ago, but she never imagined that on the very day she turned eighteen—about to plunge fully into hell—a kind soul named Bai Qian would appear.

The woman called herself just a kind person. How ridiculous. How could Fu Siwan have been so naive?

She was clearly a goddess. How could a goddess downplay herself like that?

But why had she arrived so late?

Fu Siwan had already been kneaded to ruin by those filthy mouths. Restoring her to purity now? Impossible.

Unless… it was nothing short of a miracle.

Fu Siwan slumped over her desk and drifted off to sleep. When she woke, night had fully fallen.

Groping through the darkness, the girl flicked on the light. In that instant of illumination, it finally hit her: Bai Qian still wasn’t back.

The phone sat on the nightstand, fully charged by the woman earlier. Fu Siwan picked it up—already past seven.

Her fingers brushed the screen a few times, then without further hesitation, she tapped the only number in her contacts.

It rang several times before someone picked up. But the voice that answered was a stranger’s—a man’s.

“Are you looking for President Bai? She’s in the restroom right now, should be back any minute. Mind waiting a bit?”

Fu Siwan’s face turned ice-cold as she hung up.

Xie Chao called out “hello” a couple more times, got no reply, and glanced at the phone. The call had ended.

He was just about to push open the door when Bai Qian’s voice came from behind him. “Someone called me?”

Xie Chao quickly handed her the phone. “I saw you weren’t back yet and figured she might be getting anxious, so I took the liberty of answering for you.”

She tapped into the call log. The name “Little Rabbit” made her expression freeze.

Damn it. She’d been so caught up hosting that celebratory dinner for her team that she’d completely forgotten about the little bunny waiting at home.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. Just hung up.”

“…”

“I’ll head out first. If they want to order more, cover it for me and I’ll reimburse you later.”

Xie Chao blinked in surprise. “But you haven’t even started eating yet. You’re leaving already?”

Bai Qian sighed helplessly. “If I don’t hurry back, the little rabbit at home’s going to bite.”

In the end, though, the rabbit didn’t bite. She simply ignored her.

Bai Qian cooed and pleaded at the firmly shut door for ages, but the sulking little one inside was too stingy to even toss out a “get lost.”

With no other choice, Bai Qian resorted to her final weapon: the spare key.

The lock clicked open. Before she could even step inside, the oppressively heavy atmosphere nearly choked her.

The room was pitch-black—no lights on, curtains drawn tight. It had the eerie vibe of a horror flick.

Bai Qian didn’t spot her at first. She paused in the doorway and called out the girl’s name.

No response.

She flicked on a single lamp. There, on the floor by the bed, sat the little one—curled up tight, face buried in her arms.

She was such a tiny bundle to begin with, and the light from above only made her look more heartbreakingly vulnerable.

Bai Qian approached silently and settled beside her. She reached out to draw the little rabbit into her arms.

The girl—who had seemed quietly asleep—twisted away at once, evading her grasp.

Only then did Bai Qian breathe a sigh of relief. She stopped coaxing and simply scooped her up, holding her fast.

Fu Siwan struggled in her arms like a frightened little beast, rejecting her closeness. “Don’t touch me! Get away!”

Bai Qian tolerated her agitation and unease in that moment, holding her tightly and murmuring “I’m sorry” over and over into her ear.

It took a long while before the girl gradually relaxed, lifting her head to glare at the woman in resentment. Finally, with a mix of grievance and complaint, she sank her teeth into the other’s shoulder.

Little Rabbit’s bite didn’t hurt.

But the sight of Little Rabbit whimpering and shedding tears after biting her was utterly heartbreaking.

Fu Siwan’s stifled sobs nearly shattered Bai Qian’s heart. She hugged her even tighter, her repeated apologies now tinged with a sob of her own.

In the end, the girl cried herself into unconsciousness in her arms. Just before her awareness faded, Bai Qian heard a murmur of deep grievance and sorrow.

“If you don’t want to take care of me, then don’t bother saving me. I’ll believe you. I’ll really believe you.”

That night, Bai Qian didn’t return to her own room. Cradling the tear-streaked Little Rabbit, she spent it in the secondary bedroom.

The next morning, Fu Siwan woke first.

She carefully slipped out of the woman’s embrace and was about to climb off the bed when her hand was suddenly seized.

With a gentle tug, Fu Siwan tumbled back down helplessly.

Bai Qian’s eyes were already open. She let go of the girl’s hand and instead crooked her little finger around it in a pinky promise.

Her voice, rough and husky from sleep, carried a seductive depth.

“I swear, if I ever make you sad again, may I die a miserable death.”

Just a second before their thumbs could touch, Fu Siwan pulled away, breaking the hook of their fingers.

Without warning, she leaned in close. Before the woman could react, she took the initiative and pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips.