After Marrying the Aloof Beauty, I Totally Fell for Her - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 — I’ll Take Responsibility!

An Ning recognized the person on the bed. They weren’t close, but she left a strong impression.

Mu Yan, a renowned painter, stage name Iron Tree. Just how famous she was, An Ning didn’t have a clear concept—only that whenever Yun City held a cultural event or made promotional films showcasing local celebrities and landmarks, there was always one line inserted midway:

“Hometown of the famous painter, Mr. Iron Tree.”

Why Mr.? Because Mu Yan had never appeared in public under the identity of Iron Tree. Most people didn’t even know if she was male or female. To this day, the most circulated photo of “Iron Tree” online showed a scruffy old man with a beard, bearing a vague resemblance to some film director.

As for how An Ning, a college student who paid no attention to either the art world or celebrity gossip, knew such inside info—it was because, back before Mu Yan became famous, she used to live in the apartment upstairs.

An Ning’s impression of Mu Yan was that she was stunningly beautiful but extremely difficult to get along with. Strangely enough, though An Ning was usually calm and good-natured with everyone, whenever she saw Mu Yan, she’d get irrationally nervous—wishing she could turn invisible.

But why she felt that way, An Ning couldn’t explain. Back in high school, she’d been in a serious accident that nearly took her life. She spent over a year bedridden before recovering. Thankfully, her family had done everything they could to get her the best treatment. Physically, she’d made a full recovery, but mentally, many memories from before the accident were fuzzy at best.

Mu Yan had apparently been present during that accident. When An Ning regained consciousness, Mu Yan had been hospitalized at the same time and had come to visit her once. Her expression then had been just as cold and detached as it was now. An Ning had shuddered, and Mu Yan hadn’t come any closer—just exchanged a few words with her mother and left. She hadn’t seen her much after that, though her parents had mentioned that Mu Yan used to live upstairs. That very famous “Mr. Iron Tree” was in fact her—and only 27 years old. Even in the demanding world of art, she was considered a rare prodigy.

An Ning guessed that maybe she and Mu Yan didn’t get along in the past, which left behind this lingering psychological trauma. Her overactive imagination even filled in dramatic scenes of being scolded.

After all, Teacher Mu gave off that three-foot radius, instant frost kind of aura. Definitely the “discipline unruly kids into submission” type.

And now, her unapproachable former neighbor was right in front of her. Her beautiful face carried the same cold indifference as always. She averted her gaze from An Ning’s trembling face, calmly got out of bed, and crouched down in front of her. She was slender and petite, nearly two sizes smaller than An Ning sitting there, but her chilling presence easily made up for any physical disadvantage.

They were no more than thirty centimeters apart. An Ning could even catch the faint, sweet scent on her—a scent that was exactly like the bouquet she’d been hugging in her dream.

What the hell did I do last night?
Her mind was a chaotic mess, but her eyes couldn’t leave Mu Yan’s face.

It was an incredibly sensual face—peach blossom eyes with sharp contours, yet softened by a tear mole under her left eye and gentle features. It created a paradoxical charm—sharp yet fragile, like thin spring ice about to crack. It looked dangerous, but would shatter with the slightest touch.

At this moment, those paradoxical eyes were silently fixed on her.

To An Ning, that was exactly the kind of look you’d give a criminal.

She instinctively scooted backward, her spine hitting the cold, hard wall behind her—finally grounding her. She blurted out in panic,
“I’m sorry! I’m really, really sorry! I’ll take responsibility! You can call the police…”

The more she spoke, the more guilty she felt. Just thinking about what shameless thing she must’ve done made her eyes well up with heat. She was so ashamed she felt like she ought to turn herself in.

And just as she was babbling her apology, her cheek was suddenly pinched. Her messy confession instantly dissolved into muffled, incoherent mumbling.

Mu Yan held her cheek with one hand, as if trying to shake loose the water in her brain, and gave her a couple of little jolts.
“What, you think you slept with me?”

An Ning nodded. Then, seeing Mu Yan’s expression darken, she quickly shook her head.

“In your dreams.”

Mu Yan casually pushed her face to the side.
An Ning blinked. “Huh?”

Only then, reminded by Mu Yan’s gesture, did she glance down at her clothes. That’s when she realized both of them were still fully dressed—creased jackets and all—clearly having just fallen asleep as-is.

“Try not to drink so much next time. You were so drunk you didn’t even recognize your own home,” Mu Yan said flatly, rising to her feet.

Before An Ning could fully enjoy the relief of “nothing happened”, Mu Yan delivered a second wave of humiliation:
“You walked in and called my mom ‘Mom.’ Wonder what Aunt Liu would think of that.”

I called Mu Yan’s mom Mom?!

An Ning felt thunder rumbling in her head. She didn’t remember anything from last night, but just from Mu Yan’s disdainful yet calm expression, she was sure this wasn’t a joke.

“I’m really sorry!”
She racked her brain and couldn’t find anything to justify herself, so all she could do was apologize again.

Mu Yan looked at the dejected girl who didn’t dare meet her eyes. Her hair was still a bit messy from sleep, a curl of chestnut fluff sticking up from her crown. It was… kind of cute.

She suppressed the strange softness rising in her chest.

“Forget it. Just go home.”

An Ning had been bracing herself for a scolding or punishment, but instead, she was gently let off the hook. She looked up at Mu Yan in confusion, only to see her already leaving the bedroom.

Without having to share the room anymore, An Ning finally felt less suffocated. She got up and smoothed down her wild curls.

Although she had completely blacked out last night, she wasn’t suffering any hangover symptoms—no headache, no nausea.

She glanced around the room. It had a similar layout to her own, but while her room was cluttered with stuff, this one was practically bare—only a bed and a wardrobe.

Right… Teacher Mu moved out long ago. Why was she here last night?

Her parents had told her that once Mu Yan became famous, someone leaked her home address. Reporters camped out daily, so she moved soon after.

No point thinking about all that. Since she told me to leave, I’d better go.

An Ning stepped out of the bedroom, intending to say goodbye before leaving. She followed the sound of running water and found Mu Yan bent over the small bathroom sink, washing her face.

Her loose shirt hung down, outlining her slim shoulders. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing slender arms and—a wound?

Did I just see that right?

An Ning squinted, trying to get a better look, but Mu Yan had already noticed her. She straightened up and glanced over.

Beads of water rolled down her pale face, clinging to her lashes like rain on butterfly wings.

That beautiful face, now dripping wet and looking utterly pitiful, opened its mouth:

“Why are you still here? What are you staring at? Just because you called me ‘Mom’ doesn’t mean I’m making you breakfast.”

“I’ll leave right now. I’m really, really sorry!”
Face burning, An Ning bowed in shame and fled.

On her way through the living room, a sudden glare caught her eye, stabbing into her vision.

What was that?

She slowed down and spotted a single small utility knife placed on the only chair in the room.

She walked over and picked it up. It was smaller and more refined than a regular cutter. The blade had been extended slightly—and there was a trace of bl00d.

Wait a minute…

She recalled the scene in the bathroom. There’d definitely been a thin, bloody line on Mu Yan’s arm.

As if possessed, An Ning pocketed the knife.

The water was still running in the bathroom. An Ning, feeling incredibly guilty, tiptoed toward the door and cast one last glance back.

The vast living room was empty, save for a chair and an easel—standing alone like some kind of torture device.

A breeze lifted the edge of the curtains. The water stopped.

An Ning shivered and rushed out the door.

Gripping the knife in her pocket, she walked to the stairwell and looked at the floor number.

A big, obvious “4.”

I really climbed the wrong floor…
An Ning silently added all alcohol to her personal blacklist and hurried down.

The sound of the door closing echoed for a few seconds, then silence returned.

Mu Yan walked into the living room, glanced at the now-empty chair, and her eyes darkened.

An Ning went down one floor, arriving at her own apartment directly below Mu Yan’s. She pulled out her keys and entered.

Inside, the warm scent of corn porridge and pan-fried leek buns filled the cozy room. Her parents sat at the dining table, sipping porridge and watching the morning news.

As the warmth of the indoor air enveloped her and the smell of breakfast hit her nose, An Ning’s eyes burned with emotion. She suddenly felt like she’d returned to the world of the living.

The couple turned toward the sound of the door.

Seeing her, her mom slammed her bowl down and marched over furiously.

“Mom, let me explain—”
An Ning knew even her open-minded parents would think staying out all night was crossing a line. She was just racking her brain for an excuse that didn’t sound insane when her mom grabbed her by the collar.

“Why are you back so early?”

“…Huh?”
An Ning felt like her brain had been glitching nonstop today. Wait, she wasn’t supposed to come back?

“Weren’t you staying over at Yan-Yan’s? Why didn’t you chat longer with her? You—”

Her mom was about to say more when her dad coughed loudly from the table.

“…Go shower. You smell like grilled meat,” her mom muttered with a clearly reluctant tone.

“Okay.”
An Ning noticed the weird atmosphere but didn’t dwell on it. She knew her mom was familiar with Mu Yan—their families had been neighbors for years, and her mom was the overly friendly type. Still, she couldn’t imagine them having warm conversations.

What now?

After showering and eating breakfast, An Ning, now in a T-shirt and shorts, sat cross-legged on her bed, studying the small, half-moon-shaped utility knife in her hand.

It was clearly custom-made—both its shape and material unlike regular box cutters. Heavier, too. The wooden, circular handle had two simple carved letters: “MY.”

Technically, this is stealing, right…?

She flopped back onto the bed, staring at the brightening sky.

Does “stealing the weapon of a suspected self-harmer” count as a kind of righteous theft?

Her eyes wandered around her room.

It was small, but the walls were covered with certificates and posters of her favorite badminton players. A glass cabinet near the bed displayed her collection of Zodiac figurines and various tournament trophies.

She thought of Mu Yan’s empty living room and barren bedroom.

Someone with their own preferences—even if they love minimalism—wouldn’t live in a place like that.

Maybe it was just that Mu Yan didn’t really live there anymore? Maybe she moved her things out?

Still… it wasn’t like she could just go up and ask.

“What’s it got to do with you?”

She could already picture Mu Yan’s cold face saying that.

An Ning shivered. She shoved down her unease and helpless urge to help. Then she opened Weibo and searched “Iron Tree.”

The first trending result stabbed her in the heart:

#MrIronTreePassesAway#

An Ning: “…”

Are you serious right now?