Picked Up a White Cut Black Wife - Chapter 3

Buzz—

It was the vibration of her phone. Shen Zhao answered groggily, and an elderly voice came through the receiver—her esteemed mentor, a fourth-generation national intangible cultural heritage inheritor and a leading figure in contemporary archaeology.

“The artifacts from Feng’an should arrive in two or three days,” Xu Muqing stated bluntly, wasting no time on pleasantries.

“What do you mean?” Shen Zhao sat up abruptly, accidentally straining an old injury in her lower back. She winced, letting out a sharp, involuntary gasp, and prayed Xu Muqing hadn’t noticed.

But her hopes were dashed. Xu Muqing’s tone immediately shifted. “Your back injury flared up again? You never learn! Those lifeless objects are more important to you than living people!”

Shen Zhao slowly recovered, got out of bed, and began dressing as she asked, “Have they all been excavated?”

Xu Muqing sighed helplessly. “Yes.”

Shen Zhao froze. “What? Didn’t you say you wanted me to go to the site…? Why are you going back on your word now?”

“Hmph, who’s going back on their word? If it weren’t for Xiaoxiao, I wouldn’t have known…”

“What did she say to you this time?” Shen Zhao rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. “It wasn’t my fault,” she explained. “The paintings and calligraphy the client sent were severely damaged, and they were rushing me. I had no choice.”

“Enough, enough,” Xu Muqing interrupted. “It’s always the same excuse. Can’t you come up with something new?” She then added sternly, “Since you’re finishing up your current project, go home and rest properly for a few days. Spend some time with your parents.”

Shen Zhao instinctively refused. “It’s fine, Professor. I heard this batch of artifacts is massive, and they’re short-staffed right now. I can help out.”

“Help out? What are you talking about?” Xu Muqing, known for her stern demeanor, found it difficult to maintain her composure when dealing with Shen Zhao. “What? You think that huge museum can’t survive without you? Go home first. Come back when you’re well-rested.”

Shen Zhao opened her mouth to protest, but a busy signal suddenly blared through the phone. Xu Muqing hastily gave a few more instructions and hung up.

Rest was out of the question.

Ever since the discovery of the Feng’an Ruins, she had waited too long. Now that the moment had finally arrived, she couldn’t possibly leave.

Shen Zhao drew back the curtains. The snow had stopped, and sunlight streamed into the room, adding a touch of warmth. If not for the bare branches and fallen leaves outside, the weather might have felt like spring.

She quickly selected an outfit from the closet and headed for the bathroom. As she opened the bedroom door, she met resistance, followed by the sight of a fiery red tulle dress.

Memory flooded back instantly.

I almost forgot about this con artist. Why hasn’t she left yet?

Shen Zhao frowned, about to snap at her, when the girl suddenly threw herself into her arms, her messy hair brushing against Shen Zhao’s collarbone, tickling her. Shen Zhao immediately pushed her away.

The girl whimpered pitifully, “Wife.”

“What did we say last night? ‘Not until you reach the Yellow River, you won’t give up,’ right?” Shen Zhao crossed her arms, pulled out her phone, and pretended to call the police. “Still not leaving?”

As if she hadn’t heard, the girl suddenly said, “Qiao.”

Not catching the name, Shen Zhao frowned. “What?”

“My name… I remember it now.”

“Oh,” Shen Zhao replied, not pressing further, but her mind raced. Could she not be a con artist after all, but an amnesiac girl?

“Where’s your family? I’ll call them to come pick you up.”

“I don’t have any family.”

An orphan?

“How old are you?” Shen Zhao asked.

The girl pondered for a long time. “I forgot.”

Shen Zhao pressed her lips together, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. Who is this woman, anyway? Regardless, this wasn’t her problem. Besides, she had urgent matters to attend to.

After a moment’s thought, Shen Zhao decided to find her a hotel. That would be more than enough kindness.

“Stop following me. Go sit over there.” Shen Zhao walked, the girl trailing behind. When they reached the bathroom door, Shen Zhao snapped impatiently.

“Okay, Wife.”

The frosted glass door closed, separating their silhouettes. The girl lowered her gaze, her eyes unreadable. After a moment, she moved to the sofa, her gaze fixed on the bathroom door, like a beast guarding its treasure—lazy yet dangerous.

The sound of water filled the room, steam quickly rising and blurring the figure inside.

The girl’s brow furrowed. She abruptly closed her eyes, as if straining to recall something.

A dense, pure white mist hung in the air, swirling around a nearby forest. A glimpse of a slender, pale back flashed through the haze, wet hair clinging to its surface. Suddenly, the woman turned her head, but her face remained obscured by the mist, impossible to discern.

Sticky. Clammy. Wet.

Like a memory.

The girl clutched her chest, her face draining of color.

It’s okay, it’s okay. She’s right here with me now. Nothing else matters.

She forced a smile onto her pale face and turned back to the bathroom.

At that moment, the bathroom door swung open. Shen Zhao emerged, wrapped in a towel, a hairdryer in one hand and the other roughly drying her dripping hair. She didn’t glance toward the sofa, as if no one else were present.

The girl froze, her eyes wide. One second, two seconds… then her face flushed crimson.

Feeling the intrusive gaze lift, Shen Zhao glanced over curiously. She saw the girl’s head bowed, long hair falling forward to reveal the tip of her ear, bright red.

What’s she doing? Shen Zhao wondered, but didn’t ask, continuing to dry her hair in front of the mirror.

Just then, a gaze hotter than ever before pierced through her. Shen Zhao felt goosebumps rise. She turned to meet the girl’s eyes, but the girl quickly averted her gaze.

She wanted to look but was too embarrassed, feigning composure.

Shen Zhao’s mind went blank. Finally, she detected a different undertone. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she saw herself wrapped in a disheveled towel that barely covered her vital areas, exposing large expanses of snow-white skin. Her face was flushed slightly from the steam, losing much of its usual cold aloofness.

Shen Zhao felt a surge of annoyance. Not only is she a con artist, but she’s also a pervert!

Meanwhile, the girl was torn by inner conflict.

One little voice argued: “Don’t look at what’s improper! How could she take advantage of someone like this? It’s utterly indecent! How could she be so vulgar? Wife will be furious if she finds out!”

Another little voice countered: “She’s your wife now. What’s wrong with just a quick glance? It’s not like you have any ulterior motives.”

Caught red-handed, the girl lowered her head guiltily, but her back remained ramrod straight, betraying a hint of dignity.

The thick carpet in the living room muffled her footsteps, making her approach nearly silent. Combined with her flustered state, she didn’t notice Shen Zhao’s arrival until the warm, damp breath brushed against her skin.

A shadow fell across her face.

“Little pervert?” Shen Zhao teased, treating her like a younger sister. Seeing the girl’s sudden docility and her shy demeanor, she couldn’t resist pinching her cheek. The heat that radiated from the girl’s skin burned her fingertips.

The girl’s pupils widened in surprise. After a long moment, she pressed her cheek against Shen Zhao’s hand and rubbed against it. “N-not a pervert,” she stammered. “I’m your wife. It’s… it’s natural.”

Shen Zhao immediately recoiled as if electrocuted. What was she thinking, provoking this female hooligan?

“Wife~”

“Shut up.” Shen Zhao’s face darkened as she turned to blow-dry her hair and quickly changed. Just as she was about to leave, the girl sprang up and followed her.

“You’re planning to go out like that?” Shen Zhao frowned, glancing at the girl. She was still wearing yesterday’s thin gauze dress, while the temperature outside was below zero.

What was this girl thinking last night?

The more Shen Zhao pondered, the stranger things seemed.

She shook her head, scattering her thoughts, and jerked her chin at the girl. “Come here.”

Leading her to the bedroom, Shen Zhao pulled several outfits from the closet, held them up against the girl, and finally selected a few that seemed to fit reasonably well. She shoved them into the girl’s hands. “Change into these.”

The girl quietly clutched the clothes, suppressing the urge to sniff them, and nodded. “Thank you, Wife. You’re so kind.”

“Say that nonsense again and I’ll throw you out.”

The girl pressed her lips together, but her eyes sparkled, her pupils filled with Shen Zhao’s reflection.

Uncomfortable under that intense gaze, Shen Zhao muttered something incoherent and hurried out of the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her. She waited outside.

Silence filled the room. The girl lowered her head, staring at the clothes in her hands. Finally, she couldn’t resist and brought them to her nose for a restrained sniff.

Minutes ticked by, but the girl still hadn’t emerged. Shen Zhao grew increasingly impatient.

After a long wait, the door finally opened.

“If you’re ready, hurry up and…”

The door creaked open slightly, and the girl peeked out, her hair disheveled. “Wife,” she whispered.

“What is it?” Shen Zhao asked.

“I… I don’t know how to… how to put this on. Wife, can you help me?” Her voice trailed off, growing softer with each word.

“Huh? What was that?” Shen Zhao thought she might have misheard, stunned for a moment. “You… you don’t know how to put it on?”

The girl nodded, reaching out to hook her little finger around Shen Zhao’s, trying to pull her inside.

Seduction?

The word flashed through Shen Zhao’s mind, instantly putting her on edge. She shook off the girl’s hand and said coldly, “Stop playing these little games. I don’t like women, and I certainly don’t like female con artists.”

The bedroom was dimly lit, the sliver of light casting shadows across the girl’s face, obscuring her subtle expressions. After a moment, she asked slowly, “Then who do you like?”

“I don’t like anyone. Just get dressed…”

Before Shen Zhao could finish, she was yanked into the bedroom by a sudden force.

Despite her slender, frail appearance, the girl’s sudden burst of strength was terrifying. Shen Zhao nearly lost her balance, and in an instant, she found herself with the girl pressed against her.

The bedroom door slammed shut, plunging them into deeper darkness.

Seduction failed, so now she’s resorting to force?