Chapter 48: The Submissive, Obsessive Top Student

She wouldn’t let herself look, and Jiang Zhiyi didn’t push it. She waited until Shi Qingyi had fallen asleep before continuing to kiss her fingers, whispering apologies into the silent darkness.

Jiang Zhiyi controlled Shi Qingyi to an extreme and pathological degree. Unless she was there herself, Shi Qingyi basically wasn’t allowed to go out. She cut off all her social interactions, and whenever Shi Qingyi was reluctant, she resorted to coquettish pleading.

“Qingyi, isn’t it nice to stay with me?”

Even when Shi Qingyi just wanted to go out for a bowl of noodles, she caved under that pitiful gaze and ordered delivery instead, paying extra.

In November, news came through the high school class group chat: Deng Sisi was getting married.

After dropping out of school, she hadn’t had it easy. After breaking free from Song Zhiming, she went to work in another city. She left alone but returned holding another man’s hand.

The gold-embossed invitation was posted in the group. Shi Qingyi glanced at it. Her fiancé looked honest and ordinary, nothing like Song Zhiming’s refined elegance. His smile had a silly charm.

Ever since a little canary had moved into her villa, President Jiang had grown fond of bringing work home. The house was more comfortable than the office—at least she didn’t have to wear a stiff suit all day.

Shi Qingyi nestled on the sofa, playing on her phone, her slightly wavy long hair draped casually over her shoulders. Jiang Zhiyi stared in a daze, then spoke to her very gently. “It’s indeed good news. Song Zhiming will hear about it too.”

Perhaps Song Zhiming had chosen his future over love, but it was impossible to say he truly didn’t like Deng Sisi. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have begged for reconciliation on New Year’s Eve and gotten drunk like a madman when she refused.

He was destined for a lifetime in prison, and the girl he liked was marrying someone else—what a perfect ending. How could she not let him see it?

She had always held grudges like this, her revenge never ceasing. Gu Chuanjing’s company was on the verge of bankruptcy, saddled with massive debts. His career was in ruins, and his love life was no better.

Word from the hospital: Jiang Zhiqing’s injuries had damaged her uterus—she’d never be able to have children. Her father had received a critical condition notice. The string of blows had driven her insane.

She had gone mad.

Jiang Zhiyi kept all these updates from Shi Qingyi. Her little canary stayed quietly by her side, and that was enough. She didn’t need to worry about the bloody storms outside. Jiang Zhiyi could be ruthless to everyone else—her beloved didn’t need to trouble herself with any of it.

She set aside her work and leaned over to kiss the ends of Shi Qingyi’s hair tenderly. Shi Qingyi turned back and patted her head.

On the day of Deng Sisi’s wedding, Jiang Zhiyi and Shi Qingyi went to take a look. It was a banquet in the county town, with colorful balloons tied outside and guests streaming in steadily.

Shi Qingyi pushed her along a damp path for a stroll. Midway, Jiang Zhiyi took a call and had to rush to the company. As she left, she tilted her head up at Shi Qingyi without a word.

Understanding, Shi Qingyi leaned down. The other woman kissed her cheek, then straightened her hair.

“The driver’s still waiting. The forecast says rain this afternoon—head back early, add some layers, and I’ll bring something tasty tonight. I’ll wrap up the meeting early and come back to watch a movie with you.”

Her instructions were meticulous, and Shi Qingyi agreed to each one before Jiang Zhiyi rolled up the window and left, reassured.

Agreeing was one thing; obeying was another. Shi Qingyi didn’t go straight home. Instead, she took a cab to somewhere else.

In the small county town stood a low-key café that wasn’t busy on rainy days. By the window sat an elegant woman.

In her forties, she looked no older than her early thirties, her features etched with innate poise and gentleness—faintly resembling Shi Qingyi.

Spotting Shi Qingyi enter, she waved and smiled faintly. “Little Yi, come here.”

For a moment, Shi Qingyi was dazed, as if it were many years ago, when she was little and her mother picked her up from school every day.

In the blink of an eye, so many years had passed.

She hadn’t seen her mother in ages. Their reunion felt awkward and at a loss. She cradled the warm coffee, which was slightly bitter. The woman across from her added a spoonful of sugar.

“I remember you didn’t like bitter things as a kid. Three years ago, I was vacationing abroad with Liu Ayi and missed what happened to you. By the time I got back, your dad had already sent you away.” Her fingers traced the cup’s rim as she gave a wry smile. “You know how he is—he wouldn’t let me see you.”

Shi Qingyi sipped her coffee slowly before finally asking, “So, what do you want now?”

The air between them was strained and distant. Shi Mother’s expression grew uneasy. “Little Yi, are you doing okay these days?”

Outside the café, rows of sycamores caught the steady drizzle in their huge leaves. Shi Qingyi watched the driver park on the walkway, anxiously on the phone with someone.

“Isn’t it obvious how I’m doing? Can’t you tell?”

The words came out laced with sarcasm. She stood and left. The driver, mid-call, saw her returning and faltered, hanging up awkwardly.

The woman chased out a few steps, standing in the rain. She seemed to open her mouth but said nothing.

Shi Qingyi closed her eyes in the car, refusing to look.

That night, Jiang Zhiyi came home early. After washing up, Shi Qingyi trimmed the freshly delivered Juliet roses in the living room. Her hands weren’t steady, and the expensive blooms looked mangled under her care.

Jiang Zhiyi returned from the rain with cold hands. She took Shi Qingyi’s and guided the clippers to shape the branches. What had been crooked and messy quickly took form.

Once done, Jiang Zhiyi washed the soil from between her fingers herself, her voice impossibly gentle. “Did you stay home obediently waiting for me today?”

Shi Qingyi replied with an “of course.” Jiang Zhiyi didn’t press, just kept rubbing her fingers until they reddened. Shi Qingyi tried to pull away but couldn’t, then frowned. “You’re hurting me.”

The woman lost in her thoughts finally released her in alarm, then leaned in to kiss it apologetically, murmuring, “Sorry.”

That night, Jiang Zhiyi held her extra tight in sleep. Shi Qingyi woke in the middle of the night from near-suffocation. Jiang Zhiyi had work in the morning and didn’t wake her, staying up all night instead.

Her mother began reaching out sporadically to rebuild ties. Finally, one day she called, probing: “Qingyi, your birthday’s coming up soon, right? I’ve owed you so much these years—I want to give you a gift.”

Shi Qingyi waited for the rest. She heard: “Next Friday, meet me at that café last time. I’ll give you something.”

The night before Friday, Jiang Zhiyi came home early and dragged her to the cinema. In the car, she leaned on her shoulder and whispered, “Remember? Three years ago, we promised to watch a movie that day, but traffic delayed us, we missed the showing, and then everything happened. We’ve never managed to go to a theater together.”

“I remember.” How could she not? That night was a nightmare for both of them—the night everything fell apart.

Thursday’s mall was crowded, but the cinema was silent, empty save for staff. No mystery—it belonged to Jiang Zhiyi, who had booked every screening that day.

Staff recommended recent films, but Jiang Zhiyi coldly declined and named the exact movie from three years ago, like fulfilling a dream. She even chose the same seats.

Back then, Jiang Zhiyi’s legs still worked—they’d picked the back row. Now, in her wheelchair, it was harder. Shi Qingyi refused staff help and carried her to the seats herself.

It was a New Year’s comedy. Jiang Zhiyi had been dirt poor growing up, never setting foot in a theater. Even after getting rich, she’d never come alone. This was her first time.

In the darkened auditorium, midway through, the person beside her slid to the floor. Jiang Zhiyi didn’t stop her.

She stayed in her seat as tender kisses fell on her maimed limbs. The raw flesh at her amputated leg’s end was sensitive, quivering slightly. The kisses traced her scars like feathers over her heart, drawing a tremor from her chest.

She suppressed her shaking, forcing two words from her throat: “Don’t look—”

Even in the dark, she feared Shi Qingyi seeing her ugliness—the once long, pale legs reduced to stumps, scarred by fire and glass.

Shi Qingyi ignored her, kissing and asking, “Does it hurt?”

It asked if the kisses hurt now, and if the years after the crash—without her—had hurt.

Jiang Zhiyi gripped the armrests, eyes squeezed shut, whispering, “As long as you’re with me, it doesn’t hurt.”

So stay with me forever, and it won’t hurt.

It was a comedy, but tears slid silently from her eyes, soaking her clothes. Shi Qingyi kissed them away, then parted her hair to kiss the scar on her forehead.

Her voice was a sigh: “Have these years been hard on you?”

The pity in her tone felt genuine, aching for those three years of torment. Jiang Zhiyi shook her head. “Thinking of you made it not so bad.”

A girl in her twenties, disabled, skipping the college entrance exam, parachuted into running her grandfather’s business—it was grueling. The unspoken part: Thinking I could have you sooner made it worthwhile.

She hadn’t been strong enough before. She wanted to seize her by force—not just for a day or two.

From the moment I saw you, I wanted to claim you, keep you in my box, carry you with me always.

So without my permission, you can’t go anywhere. The rest was swallowed in deep kisses.

The mood was perfect, so on the way home that night, Shi Qingyi boldly asked, “Manager Jiang, can I go out for a bit tomorrow?”

Jiang Zhiyi’s hand tightened instinctively, like an animal grabbed by the tail, instantly alert. “Where to?”

Slender fingers tapped her lips, making a shushing gesture. “It’s a secret.”

Waves surged in Jiang Zhiyi’s eyes—first grievance, half-joking: “Can’t I know?”

Then quickly softening to a gentle reminder: “Come back early.”