Transformed into a High School Deep Closet Goddess Teacher in a Hot Romance with a Scumbag Girlfriend - Chapter 8

Hot water cascaded endlessly from above, filling the bathroom with steam.

Sheng Xining kept pushing her long hair back behind her neck, unable to shake off the sympathetic look that girl had given her.

It wasn’t that she had never thought about confessing to Teacher Ji. She had planned to get into a local university, wait until she was an adult, and then honestly express her feelings. But it seemed that waiting came with its own punishment. In her final year of high school, Teacher Ji had passed away unexpectedly.

She never even got the chance to grow up and voice her affection.

And now…

She abruptly turned off the water, dried her hair, changed into the clothes Teacher Ji had prepared for her, and stepped out of the bathroom. The undergarments were warm and soft, carrying a faint fragrance.

No matter what she said, Teacher Ji always took care of these trivial things for her, as if silently “showing affection” through every little detail of daily life, as though begging for her fresh love anew each day.

Sheng Xining peeled off the sticky note, fell silent for a long moment, then stormed straight into the bedroom, looking utterly impulsive. Ji Bingyan, who had been flipping through a book on the bed, froze for a second, lightly biting her lip before lifting the covers.

Sheng Xining spoke slowly, word by word: “I have something to say to you.”

“Hmm?” Ji Bingyan paused mid-motion as she was about to remove her nightgown.

Sheng Xining continued, “If—just if—a female student had a crush on you, a really painful one, liked you so, so much, and after becoming an adult, finally mustered the courage to confess and wanted to be with you… would you say yes?”

Ji Bingyan thought for a moment before lifting her gaze indifferently. “No.”

What kind of question was that?

Sheng Xining clenched her fists silently, her fingertips turning white, her voice strained as she pressed, “Why not?”

The answer and tone just now had clearly left not even the slightest room for possibility. Worse, she had even caught a trace of undisguised disdain in that smile.

Sheng Xining went on, “She likes you so much that if something unfortunate ever happened to you, she wouldn’t hesitate to trade her life for yours. Her entire youth was spent loving you with every fiber of her being—it’s been so painful…”

“Her pain has nothing to do with me,” Ji Bingyan replied leisurely, continuing to slip off her nightgown without a care. She reached out toward Sheng Xining, cooing, “Because I already have you. Stop overthinking it~~”

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined this indirect confession would end like this.

Sheng Xining was utterly disappointed. With cold eyes, she watched Ji Bingyan on the bed, still trying to coax her, as she slowly, forcefully crumpled the sticky note in her hand before angrily throwing it to the ground.

She walked toward the bed.

“Teacher Ji, forgive my rudeness.”

—

Early the next morning.

The bed was a mess, and sunlight streamed through the window like a spotlight, illuminating two sets of women’s nightgowns haphazardly discarded on the wooden floor.

The alarm blared sharply. Sheng Xining had already been awake, sitting blankly against the headboard, lost in thought. At the sound of the alarm, she gradually snapped out of it, leaned over, and turned it off.

She glanced at Ji Bingyan, who was curled up in a ball far on the other side of the bed. Her throat tightened. She stretched out a finger, hesitated, then withdrew it. Finally, she poked Ji Bingyan’s back through the blanket.

A vivid, lingering bite mark stood out against the snow-white skin.

“Mmm…” Ji Bingyan murmured, still half-asleep.

“Time… time to go to school.”

Sheng Xining realized that after last night, she no longer felt quite like herself—even speaking felt unnatural.

Today, Class 2’s morning self-study session was Chinese. Driven by a teacher’s sense of responsibility and sheer willpower, Ji Bingyan struggled out of bed, her steps unsteady as if she were still treading on the clouds of sleep. She shuffled over to the full-length mirror.

Still drowsy, she carelessly gathered her long hair, muttering as if still dreaming—

“…Why do I feel like I got beaten up?”

The reflection in the mirror revealed… nothing but raw passion, devoid of finesse—a chaotic mess of intense hickeys.

The marks burned red, like fire, scattered all over her body.

It was as if the Eight-Nation Alliance had set fire to the Old Summer Palace—she’d been thoroughly plundered.

“……” Ji Bingyan snapped awake, her eyes widening. She turned to look at Sheng Xining, who was still in bed, hands clasped together, pretending to gaze serenely out the window.

After so long, the two of them had finally… that. She knew it would be that, but she hadn’t expected it to be that intense.

Ji Bingyan’s face flushed instantly. Belatedly, she realized her earlier “commentary” in front of the mirror had probably upset her girlfriend.

Now fully awake, she hurriedly picked up the robe from the floor, wrapped herself tightly, and cautiously—yet eagerly—approached Sheng Xining.

Bathed in sunlight, she tilted her head and smiled coaxingly, “Don’t be mad. I loved being beaten up by you. From now on, only you get to beat me up, okay?”

Sheng Xining couldn’t hide her blush, her heart pounding so hard it felt like drums. With just one sentence, Ji Bingyan had dismantled her defenses, leaving her bare.

“Hmm? You’re actually blushing?” Ji Bingyan leaned in, narrowing her eyes.

Her shameless girlfriend, Sheng Xining, never blushed or got embarrassed.

Dropping a quick “We’re going to be late,” Sheng Xining dodged the topic and slipped out of bed, retreating into the bathroom.

Before leaving, Ji Bingyan unwrapped the designer scarf Sheng Xining had gifted her last year—a birthday present she’d never used—and draped it around her neck to cover the hickeys.

Once it was on, she struck a pose—

“All thanks to you, Professor Sheng.”

“……”

During the mid-morning break.

In the faculty office, Sheng Xining and Lin Pingfeng were quietly discussing last night’s incident at the “love hotel.” Sheng Xining also inquired about Lin’s mother’s health, and upon hearing that the older woman was fine, she smiled and said something, sharing a lighthearted moment with Lin.

Her gaze inadvertently shifted, and she noticed Ji Bingyan staring at her with an unreadable expression. Sheng Xining’s smile faltered, and she instinctively reined in her laughter.

Just then, Han Yile nervously approached Ji Bingyan with a textbook, asking for help. Ji Bingyan finally looked away, offering Han a faint smile.

Han Yile listened distractedly to the explanation, but after watching Ji Bingyan up close for a while, her eyes couldn’t help drifting toward Sheng Xining. As the only person who knew the true nature of their relationship, she was hyperaware of every interaction between them.

Of course, she had been more shocked than anyone when Sheng Xining became a teacher and ended up sharing an office with Ji Bingyan.

“Professor Ji,” Han Yile suddenly murmured, pointing to her own neck, “You missed a spot here.”

Ji Bingyan, still absorbed in the problem, didn’t react immediately. But Liu Xiaojun, who happened to walk by, caught sight of it and exclaimed loudly, “Whoa, Professor Ji, what happened to your neck? No wonder you’re wearing a scarf—you’re covering up those, huh!”

The entire office turned their heads at the sudden outburst. Adults naturally understood the implications behind phrases like “you know what,” and it was an unspoken consensus. In the eyes of her colleagues, Teacher Ji had always been the epitome of purity—a model young educator who remained single for the sake of her teaching career. The subtle glances cast toward Ji Bingyan now were undeniably laced with gossip.

Ji Bingyan quickly adjusted her scarf, her expression calm. “A bug bit my neck,” she said, refusing to give Liu Xiaojun even a single extra word.

Yet, her explanation only made the situation more ambiguous and awkward.

At that moment, Sheng Xining sauntered over, bent down, and—hidden from everyone else—pretended to examine Ji Bingyan’s neck up close. She then turned to the crowd and exclaimed, “Oh my—Teacher Ji got bitten pretty badly! The same thing happened to me last time—some bug in the school garden left a mark just like this! There are so many bugs this season; everyone should be careful when passing through the garden!”

Hearing Teacher Sheng’s words, everyone finally believed that Teacher Ji had indeed been bitten by a bug. They murmured a few words of agreement before returning to their work.

Han Yile glanced at Teacher Ji, then at Teacher Sheng, as if she had suddenly understood something. She guessed that Teacher Sheng was likely the “bug” in question and had just been playing dumb. Whether it was from secondhand embarrassment or something else, her ears inexplicably turned red. Grabbing her textbook, she muttered a quick “thank you” and left the office.

“Teacher Liu,” Sheng Xining suddenly called out with a bright smile, “could you come here for a moment?”

Liu Xiaojun blinked. “Huh?” Seeing the office beauty summoning him, he took a sip of health tea from his thermos, smacked his lips, and followed her out in high spirits.

Sheng Xining crossed her arms and walked straight to a deserted corner.

As soon as they were close, Liu Xiaojun eagerly leaned in, bringing with him the distinct stench of cigarettes and unwashed clothes that clung to him like a second skin. His breath, hot and suffocating, brushed against Sheng Xining’s earlobe as he whispered, “Hey, Teacher Sheng, you’re so kind to cover for Teacher Ji. But that red mark on her neck? Two hundred percent a hickey. Heh, as if I wouldn’t know?”

“Idiot.” Sheng Xining stepped back, her eyes cold and disdainful as she looked down at Liu Xiaojun, who stood half a head shorter. “Did you hear me? I called you an idiot.”

Liu Xiaojun’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Y-you—how dare you curse at me, Teacher Sheng! What did I ever do to you?”

Back when she was a student, Sheng Xining had seethed silently at Liu Xiaojun’s behavior but never dared to speak up. Now, standing face-to-face with him and hurling insults without restraint, she felt both exhilarated and utterly disgusted.

Sheng Xining continued, “So what if it is a hickey? What’s it to you? Doesn’t that just prove Teacher Ji has a partner? That’s her private life. What’s with your loud, obnoxious outburst in front of everyone? That’s harassment, got it? Aren’t you afraid Teacher Ji might complain to her partner, and they’ll come teach you a lesson? Teacher Ji is the goddess of our school—her partner is probably someone rich or powerful. They could have you transferred to some rural elementary school in a heartbeat, you know?”

“If I recall correctly, Teacher Liu, you’re still single, right? Well, being single suits you—have you even smelled yourself? You reek worse than a toad that’s been rotting in a mud puddle for days. And you still have the nerve to pine after Teacher Ji? Listen to me—after work, get lost. Stop hovering around Teacher Ji, got it?”

Liu Xiaojun: “……………………”

Han Yile, who hadn’t gone far with his rolled-up textbook, slowly peeked half his head out from behind the wall.