Picked Up a White Cut Black Wife - Chapter 7

The girl’s speed startled Shen Zhao. In mere moments, she was clinging to her again.

“What is it now?” Shen Zhao asked, her tone sharp. “Are you a three-year-old? Do you need someone to hold your hand?”

“I’m already of age,” the girl murmured, resting her head on Shen Zhao’s shoulder. Whether intentional or not, her soft words and warm breath against the nape of Shen Zhao’s neck sent a shiver down her spine. “Wife, we can consummate our marriage now.”

Shen Zhao’s mind exploded. Was this a seduction attempt? It had to be!

Heat flushed her cheeks. She tried to maintain a stern expression, wanting to reprimand the girl, but words failed her. She couldn’t think of how to scold this shameless woman.

“You…” You’re utterly shameless!

“Wife~”

“Let go!” As if burned by fire, Shen Zhao struggled and pushed, desperate to distance herself from the girl.

But the next moment, the girl was suddenly flung aside, sprawling sideways on the ground.

Shen Zhao stared in bewilderment. She hadn’t used much force—how had the girl fallen so easily?

A pained whimper rose from the floor. Shen Zhao immediately crouched down and helped her up. “Where did you hit yourself? Let me see.”

The girl clutched her knee, gazing at Shen Zhao with tearful eyes.

“I’m sorry, I… I told you to let go. You wouldn’t listen.” Shen Zhao crouched beside the girl, rolled up her pant leg, and leaned in to examine her knee.

The knee was bruised purple and blue, the discoloration stark against her fair, translucent skin.

“It’ll be fine in a few days,” Shen Zhao said. “Serves you right for not learning your lesson. Any other injuries?”

“I’m okay now.” The girl gazed down at Shen Zhao’s face, her eyes completely devoid of the earlier pitiful expression. She wrapped her other arm around Shen Zhao’s shoulder, subtly twirling a strand of her hair.

Relieved, Shen Zhao sighed and stood up, sitting down beside the girl. The girl immediately clung to her arm, leaning against her shoulder.

Shen Zhao frowned. “Want to try that again?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“And being with me will help you sleep?”

The girl nodded, tilting her head to look up at Shen Zhao. “Wife, stay with me.”

Shen Zhao frowned impatiently. “What do you want? A bedtime story?”

The girl’s eyes flickered. “Who was that man just now?”

A flicker of disgust crossed Shen Zhao’s face at the mention of him. “Just some scum.”

“Hmm?” The girl’s interest piqued. “Does Wife know him?”

“He’s a neighbor.”

“Anything else?”

“Why are you asking about him?”

The girl shook her head. “I just have a feeling he’s not a good person.”

“Good. If you see her again, stay far away,” Shen Zhao warned instinctively, her eyes filled with disgust. “If it weren’t for someone always cleaning up her messes, he’d have died eight hundred times over by now.”

“What happened?”

Shen Zhao hadn’t intended to elaborate, but to warn the girl, she briefly summarized the man’s misdeeds.

“Did she hurt her wife?”

Shen Zhao frowned, her disgust intensifying. “She tried, but she didn’t succeed.”

“What?” The grip on her arm tightened abruptly, the girl’s face turning cold. A fierce, murderous glint flashed in her eyes, but it vanished the moment Shen Zhao turned to look.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Shen Zhao said, softening her tone slightly at the girl’s worried expression. “He’s the one in trouble now.”

The girl lowered her gaze, concealing her emotions, and hugged Shen Zhao tighter.

“Alright, go get some sleep,” Shen Zhao said.

The girl hummed in agreement, but her hands remained firmly clasped around Shen Zhao.

Shen Zhao shot her a sideways glance. “Hurry up.”

The girl slowly slid down Shen Zhao’s arm, clutching at the corner of her sleeve in a final, desperate attempt to cling on. Shen Zhao ruthlessly pulled her hand away, stood up, and strode toward the bedroom.

Finally, things quieted down. Shen Zhao collapsed onto her bed, feeling more exhausted than if she’d spent the day at a construction site. She had no idea what to do with the woman. Was she really going to have to take her in?

The woman seemed simple-minded, with no family to speak of. And she wouldn’t leave no matter how hard Shen Zhao tried to get rid of her. This was going to be a real headache.

Shen Zhao racked her brain for places that might take the woman in, but came up empty. Maybe I should find her a job? she thought. If she had a way to support herself, she might stop clinging to me. Plus, she’d be too tired after work to bother me!

The more she considered it, the more it seemed like a viable solution. Shen Zhao decided to ask around tomorrow and try to resolve this mess as soon as possible.

With her plan settled, the sleeping pills began to take effect. Soon, Shen Zhao’s consciousness grew hazy, and she drifted into darkness.

But her sleep was restless, punctuated by nightmares that left her drenched in a cold sweat. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was 3 a.m. There was no point trying to go back to sleep. Having grown accustomed to such early awakenings, Shen Zhao simply got up and headed to her studio to work on repairing the antique artifact a client had brought in the day before. The quiet work would help calm her mind.

As she pushed open the studio door, she noticed a small, hunched figure huddled beside it. Long strands of hair spilled onto the floor. At the sound of the door, the figure immediately looked up at Shen Zhao.

The scene felt eerily familiar.

Shen Zhao frowned. “Why aren’t you in the guest room? What are you doing here? Have you been squatting here all this time?”

The girl turned sideways and hugged Shen Zhao’s leg. “I’m not a guest. I want to sleep with my wife.”

Shen Zhao hadn’t expected such stubbornness. Since childhood, she had disliked physical contact with others; even sharing a room was a stretch, let alone letting someone sleep in her bed. Without hesitation, she refused, “Absolutely not. Don’t even think about it.”

“Fine, then I’ll just guard my wife like this.” The girl obediently sat against the wall, burying her head in her knees, looking utterly pitiful.

Shen Zhao’s temper flared. “Fine, sit there if you don’t mind getting tired.”

“Wife, where are you going?”

“Don’t follow me.”

The girl remained motionless, watching Shen Zhao enter a room.

The workshop wasn’t large, but it was equipped with all the essential machinery for simple repairs. The walls were specially soundproofed, eliminating any worries about disturbing the neighbors—a feature that gave Shen Zhao peace of mind.

Yet today, even after settling down, Shen Zhao couldn’t calm her nerves. This agitated state made it impossible to focus on work.

The workshop’s light, several degrees brighter than the outside darkness, shone conspicuously through the narrow door crack. The girl stared at that sliver of light, her eyes wide. She didn’t feel any discomfort; she seemed accustomed to waiting. But before, her waiting had been futile. Now, things were different.

Suddenly, the wooden door swung open from the inside, spilling a pool of light onto the floor.

Shen Zhao crossed her arms, frowning at the woman still standing in the same spot. After a few seconds, as if resigned, she went to the guest room, grabbed a blanket, and tossed it onto the floor, covering it with a thick quilt to ward off the cold. “Sleep here,” she instructed the girl. “No getting on the bed. Understand?”

The girl’s gaze followed Shen Zhao’s every move. At her words, she nodded with a radiant smile.

Shen Zhao made no attempt to hide her disdain. “Come over and sleep.”

“Mmm,” the girl hummed cheerfully, but didn’t move. Instead, she reached out her hand to Shen Zhao.

With forced patience, Shen Zhao walked over and pulled the girl to her feet. But as soon as the woman stood, she seemed to melt bonelessly against Shen Zhao, leaning heavily against her.

“Wife finally agreed to stay with me…”

“Shut up!” Anticipating what the girl was about to say, Shen Zhao shoved her onto the bed. “Sleep on the floor.”

“Wife,” the girl said, her smile unwavering, dimples deepening. “You’re so kind.”

Shen Zhao snorted, slammed the door shut, and ignored her.

Winter mornings dawned particularly late. When Shen Zhao looked up from her desk, the world outside was still pitch-black. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was already past seven—perfect timing to drive to the museum.

After bending over her desk for so long, Shen Zhao’s back ached. She pushed herself up, went to the bedroom to change, and flipped on the light. A figure sat up on one side of the large bed.

“Wife.”

She had almost forgotten about her.

Shen Zhao found the clothes she wanted to wear and began to fret. How am I supposed to change with her here?

“Wife,” the girl said, rising and moving toward her.

“Stay there. Don’t move,” Shen Zhao quickly stopped her, grabbed the clothes, and hurried to the bathroom.

When she came out, the girl was already sitting on the living room sofa. “Wife, where are you going?”

Shen Zhao straightened her clothes and replied coolly, “None of your business.”

“Okay,” the girl answered obediently, then asked, “Can I come with you, Wife?”

“Stay home.”

This time, the girl wasn’t so compliant. “Can’t I go with you?”

“No.”

“But the saying goes, ‘A wife follows her husband, a dog follows its…’ ” The girl said this with such seriousness that Shen Zhao choked. “I don’t recall ever marrying you.”

“I remember,” the girl insisted.

“Then you’re mistaken.”

“No mistake. You’re my wife,” the girl retorted immediately.

Shen Zhao, tired of arguing, put on her shoes, grabbed her bag, and gave instructions at the entryway. “I’m going out. Stay home and behave yourself.”

The girl glared at her with a hint of resentment, looking remarkably like a young wife left alone in her boudoir.

Shen Zhao chuckled, “I’ll be back by noon.”

Hearing this, the girl’s eyes brightened slightly, finally relenting. “Alright, I’ll wait for my wife at home.”

“Mm.”

As Shen Zhao stepped out, the smile lingered on her lips. Realizing this, she immediately straightened her expression. The day after tomorrow, at the latest, I’ll send her away!

A night of heavy snowfall had transformed the world into a pristine, silver-white landscape. Fortunately, the museum wasn’t far from home, requiring only a twenty-minute drive. Before the staff arrived, the museum was eerily silent.

Shen Zhao unlocked the main entrance and headed straight to the restoration workshop. Due to her health, she hadn’t participated in the excavation work firsthand, relying instead on photographs taken at the site. But seeing the artifacts in person evoked an entirely different feeling.

She examined each piece meticulously, spending a considerable amount of time.

Before she knew it, dawn had broken, and staff members began arriving at the museum.

The sound of a door opening behind her made Shen Zhao turn around. She looked at the newcomer with surprise. “Senior Brother? What brings you back?”

“Such a major news event—of course I had to come see it for myself.”

Shen Zhao understood immediately what she was referring to.

Ai Jingshan, like Shen Zhao, had graduated from the Department of Archaeology at Z University. They had both later become disciples of Xu Muqing and, after graduation, joined the same museum. Back when Shen Zhao’s health wasn’t so poor, they had often worked together.

Now, Ai Jingshan was leading projects independently, while Shen Zhao mostly remained indoors, repairing artifacts and unable to personally visit excavation sites. It would be a lie to say she didn’t feel a pang of regret.

“The excavation of Feng’an Mausoleum is nearly complete, and artifacts are being sent over in batches,” Shen Zhao said. “However, I still have many unanswered questions about the mausoleum.”

“Mm, go on,” Ai Jingshan replied, listening intently and nodding occasionally. When Shen Zhao finished, she said, “Historical records from the Li Dynasty are indeed scarce. For now, we can only rely on the artifacts themselves. That’s why I came back—to help you out since you’re short-handed.”

“Really?” Shen Zhao smiled gratefully and led Ai Jingshan to the exhibition platform. “These are the first artifacts unearthed in Feng’an. Unfortunately, the inscriptions are too faded to determine which dynasty they belong to.”

“Didn’t they send over half a painting? Maybe we can start there.”

Shen Zhao nodded. “That’s right. The painting just arrived and hasn’t been restored yet. Would you like to take a look, Senior Brother?”

As they spoke, a colleague’s voice suddenly came from behind them.

“Aish… I was wondering why someone was working as hard as Xiao Zhao. Now that I see it’s Jingshan, it all makes sense.”

“Hahaha… You wouldn’t believe it! Back at the construction site, these two were always the first ones there…”

After a few more teasing remarks, the group returned to their workstations, leaving only the hum of machinery in the restoration room.