Chapter Forty-Six: The Big Tabby Cat and the Little Tabby Cat

Sensing that something was terribly wrong, Jiang Muwen immediately raised her book and buried her head in its pages, pretending to be busy, as if she hadn’t heard Wen Yichen calling her. Deliberately avoiding his gaze, she kept her head lowered, her mind in utter chaos.

Around her, the quiet murmurs of her classmates drifted by, but she saw nothing, like a condemned prisoner blindfolded before the end, not knowing when the sentence would be carried out. Suddenly, she felt a gust of wind sweep past her—gentle, yet carrying an undercurrent of menace. In the next moment, the scraping sound of a chair being dragged reached her ears.

A shudder ran through Jiang Muwen’s heart. She froze, at a loss—she had no idea whether Wen Yichen was angry or not.

A moment later, Wen Yichen’s voice came, cold but eerily calm, making it impossible to guess his mood: “Didn’t you say you couldn’t do the math problem? What’s wrong? Decided to teach yourself now?”

Jiang Muwen stayed perfectly still, not daring to move.

Seeing her unresponsive, Wen Yichen added, “Forget it if you don’t want to learn.”

Her heart trembled at his words—she did want to learn, but in this situation… did she dare?

Almost as if reading her mind, Wen Yichen spoke again, “Relax, I won’t do anything to you.”

His words were like a soothing balm. Slowly, Jiang Muwen lowered her book, timidly turned, and glanced up at him to gauge his expression.

The boy before her was unreadable, his face calm, betraying nothing of his thoughts. The black ink still marked his face, lending him an unexpected cuteness that seemed oddly out of place with his current demeanor.

Wen Yichen, his face cold, fixed her with a stern gaze—like an angry kitten.

Jiang Muwen fought down the urge to laugh, mustering an awkward smile.

She watched as he picked up the pen on the desk and slowly lifted his hand.

Her eyes narrowed in alarm; her instincts told her that Wen Yichen’s intentions with that pen were anything but innocent.

“Ah—suddenly I get it! No need to trouble you!” Survival instincts kicked in, and Jiang Muwen quickly changed her tune.

But before she could turn away, Wen Yichen’s large hand closed around her face—his thumb and forefinger precisely pinching her cheeks, holding her head firmly in place.

Looking at Wen Yichen, panic flickered in Jiang Muwen’s eyes—this was it, real trouble had arrived.

Just as Wen Yichen was about to make his mark on her face, Jiang Muwen cried out, “Wen Yichen! Didn’t you say you wouldn’t do anything to me?”

Her words came out muffled, her cheeks squished, her eyes fixed on him. Her face was so soft to the touch that Wen Yichen’s anger began to dissipate at the thought of her soon looking like a little spotted cat.

A rare mischievous smile tugged at Wen Yichen’s lips. Lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear, he replied, “Oh… but I’ve changed my mind.”

Jiang Muwen stared at him, speechless, almost in tears. Wen Yichen’s promises were pure deception.

She tried to move her head, hoping to escape his clutches.

“Don’t move—or you’ll make me draw crooked, and don’t blame me then,” he said seriously, touching the tip of the pen to her nose.

Jiang Muwen nearly laughed and cried at the same time—crooked or not, she’d still protest; this wasn’t makeup, so why should she cooperate?

Yet in the end, she stayed obediently still—perhaps truly afraid he’d draw uneven lines, making her look even worse.

The pen’s tip brushed her skin, sending ticklish, cool shivers across her cheeks.

Wen Yichen focused intently, as if he were an artist engrossed in sculpting a masterpiece, his gaze fixed on her face.

She gazed back at him, into his clear eyes, seeing her own reflection there.

She couldn’t see what he was drawing, only imagining along the path of the pen’s movements.

It seemed… like he was drawing a cat.

At last, Wen Yichen put down the pen, satisfied. Looking at Jiang Muwen’s now thoroughly decorated face, he smiled with contentment.

“All done,” he said, releasing her cheeks. Faint red marks lingered where he had pinched her soft face. Looking at the little spotted cat before him, Wen Yichen finally turned his attention to the workbook, his tone much lighter, “Which problem can’t you solve?”

Jiang Muwen stared blankly at him for a few seconds, still not fully processing what had happened, before shifting her gaze to the workbook and quietly pointing at the question.

The next moment, their heads were close together, one teaching, one listening. The scene left Bai Xu, sitting nearby, utterly dumbfounded. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he could never have imagined such a sight—it was as if, across from him, sat not two people, but a big spotted cat and a little spotted cat.

And so, Jiang Muwen and Wen Yichen bore their spotted faces all the way until the end of school.

Back when they’d been drawing on each other’s faces, they’d been full of mischief, never imagining the ordeal of walking home afterward, faces on display, would feel like a public execution.

One after the other, they hurried along with heads bowed, not daring to meet anyone’s eyes, until they finally boarded the bus.

At first glance, the bus didn’t seem crowded, but as Wen Yichen climbed on, he realized nearly every seat was taken. As he raised his eyes to search for a seat, he locked gazes with several passengers. Before he could find a place, Jiang Muwen entered everyone’s view as well: “Wen Yichen, did you find a seat?”

Her words fell into a sudden silence, as if the air had frozen. Embarrassment swept over them both. They’d kept their heads down all this way to avoid being seen, only for everyone to get a clear look now.

Feigning composure, Wen Yichen walked calmly to the only single seat left and stopped.

It seemed to be the last seat available.

“You take it, Wen Yichen…”

Wen Yichen glanced at Jiang Muwen. Hearing her words, he hesitated—what kind of man would let a girl give up her seat? Besides… when had she ever been so considerate in front of him?

“Sit down,” he answered instead.

Jiang Muwen looked at him, still harboring a trace of guilt. “It’s fine, I’ll stand for a bit…”

But before she could finish, a firm grip on her wrist cut her off. In the next moment, she was pulled toward the seat, and with one smooth motion, Wen Yichen pressed her gently down before she could react.