My Wife Always Wants to Run Away - Chapter 13

After confirming that Jie Xiangyi had changed her nickname back to normal, Tang Jinzhi exited the private chat. She glanced at Zhang Yueqi, who was cowering like a quail in the group chat, and let out a soft snort.

She wouldn’t actually add Zhang Yueqi’s mother’s contact information; she was just trying to scare her a little.

What exactly does she think she can accomplish by creating this three-person group chat? Tang Jinzhi wondered.

She decided Jie Xiangyi must just be bored.

Her takeout arrived.

After unwrapping it, she took a photo and sent it to Jie Xiangyi.

Tang Jinzhi: [Image]

Tang Jinzhi: Are you hungry?

Tang Jinzhi: Can I use the computer in the study?

Jie Xiangyi glanced at the photo and quickly replied, Not hungry. Of course you can use the computer, just be careful not to delete any files.

Tang Jinzhi: OK

Tang Jinzhi: Bye, I need to get to work after I eat. I’m on the night shift too.

Jie Xiangyi: Not going to sleep some more?

Tang Jinzhi: Full of energy, no need to sleep. I’ll rest when you get back.

Jie Xiangyi rubbed her tired eyes. Some people want to sleep but can’t, while others have the chance but refuse to.

She sighed inwardly.

Tang Jinzhi’s sleep schedule was already chaotic, and it had fallen apart on her very first day back.

Tang Jinzhi was no better herself.

Unaware of Jie Xiangyi’s inner turmoil, Tang Jinzhi finished her meal, cleaned up the trash, grabbed her USB drive, and headed for the study.

The master bedroom and study were connected by a hidden door. Tang Jinzhi pushed open the door to Jie Xiangyi’s room, intending only to find the hidden door, not to pry into her privacy. However, she couldn’t locate it right away.

Jie Xiangyi had shown her the door earlier that day. Assuming it was simply part of Jie Xiangyi’s room, Tang Jinzhi had only glanced around the master bedroom before quickly leaving.

After a few minutes of searching, Tang Jinzhi began to doubt her memory. She couldn’t possibly have forgotten the approximate location of such a large door, yet she couldn’t find it.

Tang Jinzhi: Where’s the study door…?

Even as she typed the question, Tang Jinzhi felt a wave of self-doubt.

She couldn’t even find a door.

Jie Xiangyi: …Facing the wall opposite the bedroom entrance, there’s a white button on the left-hand shelf. Press it to open the door.

Tang Jinzhi: ……

Who designed this room? Why make it so complicated? What if the button malfunctions one day?

Tang Jinzhi: Are you hiding some national secrets in there?

Jie Xiangyi defended herself: I moved straight in. I didn’t participate in the interior design.

Tang Jinzhi: Alright, alright, I found it.

Jie Xiangyi glanced at the thesis she was revising, thinking Tang Jinzhi probably had nothing else to ask her. She immediately put her phone on silent.

Indeed, Tang Jinzhi had no further questions for Jie Xiangyi. She was now completely immersed in her own world.

Tang Jinzhi had already published two of her previously written novels, both of which had been serialized for a week.

While she was still in the hospital, she had chosen a suitable platform and successfully signed a contract.

With several novels already written, updating was effortless for her, and she never worried about writer’s block.

She copied all the contents from the USB drive onto her computer, encrypted the files, and then copied everything into the writing software she had registered. Once everything was synchronized and she confirmed she could access the files on her phone, the anxiety that had been weighing on her finally dissipated.

Even if she lost the USB drive again, she wouldn’t panic.

With these matters settled, Tang Jinzhi turned her attention to the documents she hadn’t opened in ages.

These were scripts for murder mystery games that Tang Jinzhi had written during her part-time job days.

Back then, she was still quite inexperienced. After finishing each script, she’d create a table and assign difficulty levels to them herself. Some, which she deemed poorly written, received only one star.

Tang Jinzhi pulled out one of the scripts and began reviewing it. She planned to optimize each one, increasing the difficulty where possible. For those she couldn’t improve, she’d fix any bugs and treat them as simple entertainment scripts.

Once she immersed herself in her work, Tang Jinzhi didn’t check her phone again to chat with Jie Xiangyi.

She spent the entire night in her study, especially after a burst of inspiration in the early hours of the morning. She was so focused that she didn’t even want to interrupt her flow by going out for a drink of water.

Jie Xiangyi, not receiving a reply from Tang Jinzhi, assumed she had fallen asleep. After all, Jie Xiangyi had taken a shower after getting home, and there hadn’t been any noise from the house.

Not wanting to disturb Tang Jinzhi’s rest, Jie Xiangyi changed into her pajamas, climbed into bed, and drifted off to sleep almost immediately. She was exhausted.

Shortly after Jie Xiangyi lay down, Tang Jinzhi stopped working, her usually serious expression finally relaxing.

She had been sitting for too long, and her back ached.

By dawn, she had revised two scripts.

One of the scripts was the first one Tang Jinzhi had written when she started creating murder mystery games. Needing only minor adjustments, she simply streamlined some plot points to make them more logical.

The other script, however, required extensive revisions, consuming several hours. As Tang Jinzhi edited, she berated herself for her earlier carelessness, astonished by the sheer number of glaring flaws.

It seems I was most diligent when I was still a beginner.

Her waist cracked audibly as she stood up.

A glance at the clock revealed it was nearly nine.

Tang Jinzhi froze mid-stretch, momentarily stunned.

She knew it was morning, but hadn’t realized how quickly time had passed.

I thought Xiangyi would be getting off work around now.

Is she already back?

Tang Jinzhi quickly checked her phone and found several messages from Jie Xiangyi, sent at different times:

5:00 AM: Are you asleep?

No reply.

Just before getting off work: Want breakfast?

No reply.

After work: I’m back. Since you’re probably asleep, I didn’t get breakfast.

Not a single reply from me.

Rubbing her neck, Tang Jinzhi sent Jie Xiangyi a tired-face emoji.

Why didn’t Xiangyi check the study when she got back?

Shutting down her computer, Tang Jinzhi pushed open the study door and stepped out. As she turned to close it, she noticed the door automatically latched, but the click was surprisingly loud in the otherwise silent house.

Tang Jinzhi turned back to look into the bedroom, her gaze meeting Jie Xiangyi’s.

Jie Xiangyi, awakened by the noise, stared back with a dazed expression. Had she only just lain down? What was Tang Jinzhi doing here?

Feeling awkward, Tang Jinzhi chuckled nervously. “You go back to sleep. I’m just going to get a glass of water.”

Jie Xiangyi propped herself up slightly, her head still groggy. She pointed weakly to the water glass on the bedside table. “Haven’t touched it.”

Normally a light sleeper, Jie Xiangyi should have been dead asleep after pulling an all-nighter. The fact that she was awake meant she hadn’t been lying down for long.

She closed her eyes halfway and waited until Tang Jinzhi picked up the glass before settling back against the pillow.

Tang Jinzhi sipped her water, stealing glances at Jie Xiangyi’s blank expression. A pang of sympathy struck her—the woman was so exhausted she seemed almost delirious.

Setting down the glass, Tang Jinzhi unconsciously softened her voice. “If you’re tired, go back to sleep. I’m going to bed too.”

Jie Xiangyi paused, looked up at Tang Jinzhi, then glanced at the other pillow on the bed.

She pointed. “Sleep.”

With that, she turned over and scooted closer to the wall, clearly making room for Tang Jinzhi.

Tang Jinzhi: “……”

She suspected Jie Xiangyi was too sleepy to think straight.