Afraid of making noise, Jiang Xizhi didn’t wear shoes and went barefoot to Ji Han Zhuo’s study.
Actually, not wearing shoes didn’t matter—almost all the rooms on the second floor were covered with wool carpets, precisely to prevent Jiang Xizhi from catching a cold if she went barefoot.
Ji Han Zhuo’s study was different from the other rooms. Like him, it had a lifeless, purely minimalist style.
But Jiang Xizhi knew he was anything but minimalist.
Before Jiang Xizhi moved into the manor, almost all the rooms were decorated in a monotonous, cold black-and-white style. Half a month after she moved in, she couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore and would even wake up frightened at night. Summoning her courage, she begged Ji Han Zhuo to change the style. She had expected him to refuse, but instead, he handed over the authority to redecorate the entire manor to her.
The manor was too large, and she wasn’t very familiar with it yet, so Jiang Xizhi only made major changes to the master bedroom and the garden, planning to renovate the rest in her spare time. However, the study, as Ji Han Zhuo’s private domain, was something she wouldn’t touch.
The study was spacious but simply furnished. Aside from several massive black bookshelves against the wall and antique murals, there was only a high-end desk and chair set, along with a small white sofa. This small white sofa had been added later for Jiang Xizhi’s convenience when she needed to rest.
Ji Han Zhuo particularly enjoyed holding Jiang Xizhi, sometimes even while working. But Jiang Xizhi was unaccustomed to it at first, so he added a small sofa to the study for her to sit on, ensuring he could keep an eye on her even while working.
Jiang Xizhi went to the study for one reason only—to retrieve the letter she had left there yesterday. She had been certain she would escape yesterday, so she left a letter for Ji Han Zhuo explaining their relationship, stating that she would return the money to him and that they would be even.
But now, she hadn’t escaped. If Ji Han Zhuo saw this letter, he would surely get angry again, and she would be the one to suffer. So, it was better to take it back.
Just as she picked up the letter from under his computer and before she could destroy it, the study door opened. Standing outside was Ji Han Zhuo, who should have been taking his afternoon nap.
The man stood motionless at the doorway, the light from the corridor balcony shining directly on him, forming a halo around his tall, distinguished figure.
Though Jiang Xizhi couldn’t see his expression clearly, she guessed it must be terrible—so terrible she didn’t dare imagine it. She couldn’t help but swallow nervously.
In the dark study with tightly drawn curtains, the light from the doorway was the only source of illumination. But for Jiang Xizhi, this sole source of light was not salvation but a nightmare.
Jiang Xizhi’s hand trembled, and the letter fell to the floor. She glanced at the letter on the ground, then at the man not far away, her palms breaking out in a cold sweat.
If she was going to die, she might as well destroy the evidence first. Better that than making things worse.
But before she could bend down to pick it up, the paper on the floor was snatched up by a large, well-defined hand.
Jiang Xizhi didn’t even see how the man had gotten to her side. Could he teleport?
There was no time for surprise—panic took over. Her body acted on its own, lunging for the letter in Ji Han Zhuo’s hand. Reason told her to stall for as long as possible; he absolutely must not see it.
Ji Han Zhuo seemed not to have expected Jiang Xizhi to try to snatch the letter. His hand remained in its original position, holding the letter, and then he let out a soft chuckle.
You’ve really grown some nerve, haven’t you?
The more she tried to hide it from him, the more it piqued his interest. Today, he was determined to read that letter—and he wanted her to hand it to him personally.
Jiang Xizhi decided to go all out and grabbed the letter, intending to tear it up. But before she could muster the strength, Ji Han Zhuo spoke up.
“Before you do anything, you should always consider the consequences. Understand, Xi Xi?” His calm voice carried a clear threat.
At the sound of “Xi Xi,” Jiang Xizhi’s hands went limp, and her face paled slightly. This was the first time in this lifetime he had called her that.
He only called her that in two situations: when he was extremely pleased, or when he was on the verge of anger.
And she disliked both.
Remembering his methods from her past life, Jiang Xizhi glanced at him timidly. The man’s thin lips curved slightly as he watched her with an amused expression, extending his hand toward her.
“Good girl, Xi Xi. You know what the right thing to do is. Don’t make me angry.”
Jiang Xizhi pursed her lips and mustered her courage. “Then promise you won’t get angry after reading it. I was just writing for fun—don’t take it seriously. Promise me you won’t get angry, and I’ll give it to you.”
“Oh? Xi Xi is so sure I’ll get angry after reading it. If you knew I’d be angry, why did you write it in the first place?” Ji Han Zhuo leaned down slightly, whispering by her ear while his hand slid to the back of her neck, rubbing it gently.
Ji Han Zhuo stood at 187 cm, while Jiang Xizhi was only 166 cm. The height difference was already significant, and it was even more pronounced since Jiang Xizhi wasn’t wearing shoes.
Ji Han Zhuo’s hand was cold against Jiang Xizhi’s warm neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Having the most vulnerable part of her body under his control, Jiang Xizhi couldn’t help but feel afraid—it wasn’t an act. In her past life, she had witnessed Ji Han Zhuo snap someone’s wrist with her own eyes.
This man was even more terrifying than in her past life. Wuwu, she wanted to go home. She didn’t want to be reborn.
Mental torture was far more painful than physical pain.
Jiang Xizhi gave up. Gritting her teeth, she placed the letter in Ji Han Zhuo’s hand and said weakly, “Here, please don’t be angry.”
After taking the letter, Ji Han Zhuo glanced at her indifferently, a hint of satisfaction flickering in his dark eyes. But his other hand remained on the back of her neck, still gently stroking it, as if teasing an interesting little animal.
Jiang Xizhi was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, staring intently at Ji Han Zhuo, not wanting to miss any change in his expression.
Ji Han Zhuo read quickly, scanning the letter briefly without much change in his expression. He released Jiang Xizhi’s neck, turned, and walked to the desk. Sitting in the office chair, he neatly folded the letter, leaned over, and placed it in the bottom drawer of the desk.
Then he looked at Jiang Xizhi and beckoned to her, his tone still relatively calm. “Come here.”
Jiang Xizhi walked over slowly, stopping about two meters away from him, her head lowered, not daring to meet his eyes.
Even after living a second life, she still couldn’t figure him out. She was still the weaker one.
“Closer,” Ji Han Zhuo said patiently once more.
Jiang Xizhi took another step forward.
Before she could steady herself, Ji Han Zhuo grabbed her hand, pressed her slender waist, and pulled her onto his lap.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
Ji Han Zhuo shifted his gaze to Jiang Xizhi’s calf, his eyes darkening slightly as he said meaningfully, “I was thinking about when your leg will heal.”
Jiang Xizhi wore a white cotton dress, the hem just below her knees, not covering the wound. The area wrapped in gauze stood out starkly against her smooth, fair calf.
Jiang Xizhi clearly didn’t grasp the deeper meaning in Ji Han Zhuo’s words and answered honestly, “The doctor said it’ll take at least half a month.”
Then she added, “You’re not angry, are you?”
“Guess?” Ji Han Zhuo replied casually, adept at masking his emotions.
He continued, “Don’t entertain any inappropriate thoughts from now on. You know my methods.”
Jiang Xizhi thought the matter was settled and nodded hurriedly, “I understand. I’ll be good.”
But as far as Ji Han Zhuo was concerned, the punishment hadn’t even begun.
Satisfied, Ji Han Zhuo kissed Jiang Xizhi’s cheek and instructed, “Accompany me to a gathering tonight.”
It was an instruction, not a question. Jiang Xizhi had no right to refuse.
Still, she wanted to try: “My leg hurts. It’s inconvenient to walk.”
Ji Han Zhuo kissed the corner of her lips again and stated firmly, “I’ll carry you.”
Few could change his mind once it was made up.