Jiang Yiyan snapped back to attention and nodded, acknowledging her husband’s words.
“You speak well. Parents are role models for their children; every word and action matters. I may not be a good mother, but I understand this principle,” she said, her tone still cold.
She first agreed with him, then immediately challenged him, taking the upper hand: “Then why do you assume… I would disappoint Meimei?”
Faced with her assertive question, Wen Mochuan felt an unexpected twinge of guilt.
He avoided her piercing gaze and looked away.
“Because you can’t paint,” he answered honestly.
“How do you know I can’t?” Jiang Yiyan pressed on, unwilling to drop the matter.
In the original novel, it was never stated whether the original wife could paint, and Wen Mochuan, as her husband, never truly knew his wife. Living under the same roof gave her the title of wife, and he had responsibilities for past events, but strictly speaking, he was not a fully attentive husband.
That’s why Jiang Yiyan, now an outsider inhabiting this body, could speak so confidently.
Perhaps a trace of the original wife’s lingering resentment remained, coloring her words with slight dissatisfaction at Wen Mochuan’s perceived indifference and lack of concern.
Wen Mochuan was left momentarily speechless.
Indeed, how could he know if she could paint? How well had he ever truly understood her?
Perhaps he had understood her in youth, but with time, circumstances, personality changes, and the incident from five years ago… over the years, they had drifted apart.
For the first time, he reflected on himself.
He only knew her as difficult and quarrelsome, feeling she was trying his patience, and even after marriage, he maintained a careful distance.
He had made mistakes. Five years ago, he should not have made that choice. But having done so, he shouldn’t harbor even a trace of regret.
Now, with Meimei, an understanding and affectionate daughter, even for her sake, he should have chosen to live harmoniously with his wife.
Wen Mochuan was not selfish or domineering. Gentle and tolerant by nature, even with a wife he wasn’t fully satisfied with, he possessed patience and understanding.
Realizing his own faults, he willingly apologized: “These past years… I have indeed neglected you. My earlier question without clarification was my mistake.”
Jiang Yiyan had initially taken a moral high ground, eager to debate him if he tried to argue.
She wouldn’t quarrel unnecessarily, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t stand her ground.
Yet, just as she was gearing up, he shifted direction entirely, starting to reflect on himself.
Her metaphorical iron punch had landed only on a soft cotton ball.
He had apologized, and Jiang Yiyan felt slightly embarrassed.
Pouting slightly, she shrugged casually: “Alright, I accept your apology.”
That matter seemed settled.
But Wen Mochuan continued, “The company has been busy with a collaboration project. Even at home, I’ve been occupied with work, so I may have neglected you. But there are times when the work ends; tonight, I don’t have to stay late. I’ll sleep in the bedroom.”
Jiang Yiyan: “…???!!!”
Really unnecessary, absolutely unnecessary.
The past few days, she had the entire large bed, the entire bedroom to herself, sleeping comfortably. Having grown accustomed to sleeping alone, she couldn’t imagine suddenly sharing the space.
Even Meimei, the little angel, was hard to accommodate—let alone him.
Though he was handsome and morally upright, she didn’t want to share a bed with him.
If she were the original wife, she might have happily run over to embrace him. But now, occupying the original wife’s body, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Sleeping with someone else’s husband, even imagining it was thrilling was impossible to act on.
“I know I’ve also made mistakes, so I’ve been reflecting, trying to improve. My temper was bad before, and I was possessive. I realize my faults now, and I’m controlling my temper and my possessiveness. These past few days, you’ve slept in the study, and I haven’t said anything; I’ve gradually gotten used to it. I worry… if you suddenly move back, it would disrupt my habits, undoing all my progress,” she explained sincerely.
“Then I’d start depending on you again, wanting to be with you constantly. You… understand me, right?”
Jiang Yiyan continued rationalizing: “I know where our marriage issues lie. I want to work on my temper properly. So at this critical moment, please don’t let me down.” She silently prayed that he would continue sleeping in the study.
Wen Mochuan: “…”
He wasn’t naive enough to fully believe her explanation.
He didn’t insist on moving back to the bedroom; he simply thought that long-term separate sleeping wasn’t good for a marriage and wanted to maintain it.
If his wife didn’t want it, he wouldn’t force her.
He nodded calmly: “As you wish.”
Jiang Yiyan exhaled in relief.
She continued sitting on the sofa, playing on her phone. Wen Mochuan didn’t retreat upstairs as before but took a book and quietly read beside her.
Jiang Yiyan often liked solitude, disliking disturbances, and even silent presence felt intrusive to her.
Considering the earlier small incident, she remained hyper-aware around Wen Mochuan.
She decided to remove herself proactively: “Feng Ma, do you need any help?” Preferring the company of Feng Ma Fangfang in the kitchen rather than being near her nominal husband.
Wen Mochuan didn’t focus on his book. As she left, he lifted his eyes from behind his glasses to watch her go.
After dinner, Jiang Yiyan went straight upstairs to the bedroom.
Once inside, she locked the door.
Only then did she truly relax.
Sprawled across the 2.4-meter bed, she began to feel a subtle worry.
She could evade Wen Mochuan for now, but how long could this last?
Tonight she could use excuses to refuse, but what about later?
As lawful spouses, intimacy—skin-to-skin contact or otherwise was inevitable.
Everyone has needs; even a lukewarm marital relationship didn’t absolve one of spousal duties.
Moreover, in the novel True Love, Wen Mochuan wasn’t described as having remained abstinent from his first love. Beyond the initial incident, he hadn’t touched his wife, yet he wouldn’t betray her or the family.
And the original wife loved him deeply, so their married life naturally included marital intimacy.
She had been naive, thinking she could cohabit peacefully with Wen Mochuan, undisturbed.
Jiang Yiyan lay on the bed for five minutes, motionless. Only when her phone pinged with a message did she reluctantly turn over and check it.
It was a notification from Meimei Kindergarten’s group.
The holiday had officially begun. Head teacher Yuan had tagged all parents, sharing a long message about the end of the lower class and holiday precautions.
Jiang Yiyan skimmed it and was about to exit the group.
But then Yuan’s second message arrived—about the annual re-election of the class committee.
The full name was Class Parent Committee.
Jiang Yiyan realized her daughter’s class even had such a committee.
Initially uninterested, she noticed a familiar figure pop up in the chat and perked up.
Wu Jingmeng, under the nickname “Mother of Jiang Yinghao,” had posted a message. As the current committee president, she thanked the teachers and parents for support and expressed willingness to continue serving in the middle class, hoping for votes to re-elect her.
The committee consisted of all parents, with one pair chosen each year to coordinate school-parent communication.
Most parents were busy or had more meaningful engagements. Schools could not expect more involvement, so those willing to take the role were welcomed.
The group announcement detailed the committee president’s duties.
Jiang Yiyan spotted one immediately, responsible for planning parent-child activities.
No wonder the last activity had been dull, it had been Wu Jingmeng’s plan.
And it seemed she had used the role to network with upper-class parents.
A simple parent-child event had been turned into a parent social gathering.
Jiang Yiyan felt intense dislike for Wu Jingmeng.
After careful thought, she decided to compete.
Under the nickname “Mother of Wen Meimei,” Jiang Yiyan began campaigning:
“Mother of Jiang Yinghao, thank you for your hard work. But since this school year is over, let’s elect a new president for the middle class. I humbly nominate myself, promising diligence and a fresh experience for everyone~ wink.jpg”