CHAPTER 362: 347 THE BEAUTY OF SANGSANG (PART 1)

After this incident, Jiang Jinghuai got promoted, and as a result, Tian Sangsang became the Hua Mulan in the eyes of the military. She single-handedly subdued a wild boar, two terrorists, protected two children, and helped her husband earn merits. If it had been someone else, they’d have been long gone—how could they have such good luck?

Jiang Jinghuai, meanwhile, grew silent, not saying a word or making a sound, initiating a cold war in their marriage.

Tian Sangsang was baffled; wasn’t sulking supposed to be her skill? Why was this grown man childishly trying to learn it now?

That said, she had to admit she was in the wrong.

One day during lunch break, she took the initiative to knock on the bedroom door and fluttered her beautiful, innocent eyes: "I have something to discuss with you."

Jiang Jinghuai sat on the bed and looked at her. "Go ahead."

"There’s this dog right now. She’s really pitiful and has nowhere to go. Would you adopt her?"

Jiang Jinghuai’s handsome brows furrowed as he lowered his gaze in deep thought. That poor, deceased dog—Little Milk Tea...

"Really, this dog is very pitiful," Tian Sangsang pleaded, giving him her most pitiful puppy-dog eyes.

Jiang Jinghuai let out a low "Hmm," his thick lashes trembling. "Alright, let’s adopt it. Where is it?"

Tian Sangsang burst out laughing, her eyes curving into crescents as she stepped closer to him. "It’s me, this lonely dog. Take me in, will you? Don’t worry—I’m very responsible, I can cook, mop the floors, and I’m a skilled homemaker. I won’t sneak food, I won’t steal meat, and I’ll even warm the bed."

Jiang Jinghuai’s mouth twitched faintly. He lay down, pulled up the blanket, and went back to his nap.

A gust of cold wind swept through, and Tian Sangsang hugged herself tightly. Oh my goodness, it’s so cold. qaq

First attempt—failure. Time for round two.

She approached him again, her tone soft and fawning: "Let’s make up, alright? I won’t ever dare again."

Jiang Jinghuai: "..."

"Say something, will you, Jiang Gege? If you don’t talk to me, who am I supposed to talk to? If you don’t love me anymore, then who else am I supposed to love? Who else can I possibly love besides you?"

Jiang Jinghuai: "..."

"Just tell me how you want me to die! Give me a straight answer—should I bash my head against a tofu block or hang myself with noodles? Should I steam, pan-fry, red-braise, deep-fry, or barbecue myself?!"

Finally, there was some movement. He raised a brow and said coolly, "What would I want your life for?"

Tian Sangsang: "..."

"The only kind of dying I’ll allow is the ’pleasure so intense, it feels like death.’ Other than that, don’t even think about dying." With that, he turned and walked coldly back into the room without another glance.

Wow. Tian Sangsang stared dumbfounded at his retreating figure and touched her flushed cheeks. What did he mean by that? Was it some kind of hint? Forget it—today, she’d go all in! Confucius said: "When dealing with men, seduce them with beauty. Serve them with charm."

Having made a major decision in her heart, Tian Sangsang quietly went to another bedroom, quietly locked the door, quietly entered the storage space, quietly pulled out her phone, and quietly searched: "My husband is mad at me. How do I cheer him up? Urgent, waiting online!"

Unexpectedly, her search actually yielded answers.

Netizen A: Start with his stomach—make him a nice meal.

Netizen B: Wear a dress.

Netizen C: Say "I love you."

Netizen D: Act cute, roll around, be coquettish.

...

The answers were in line with her own thoughts, which only firmed up her resolve. In the storage space, she opened her wardrobe, brows furrowed in careful selection. Piece by piece, she went through her clothes: traditional-style wear—pass; Hanfu—pass; work attire—pass; Chanel-style outfits—pass; elegant dresses—pass; student strap outfits—pass; sexy skirts—pass; lingerie—maybe; men’s shirts—maybe; skirts—maybe; ultra-short skirts—...wait a moment.

She arched her delicate brows thoughtfully. Did Jiang Jinghuai prefer the innocent look, or the bold and daring? For innocence, there’d be the sailor suit; for boldness, the tight skirt?

Alright, tonight she’d cosplay—role-play.

Tian Sangsang first took a bath, adding a few drops of rose essential oil into the water and applying a face mask. Once all was done, she dried herself off and changed into something she had prepared. Originally, she had been planning on the sailor suit but made a last-minute switch to a lace sleep dress.

A black lace dress, semi-sheer, barely covering... black and fuzzy pink slippers beneath. She checked herself in the mirror—perfect. The black lace made her complexion look even fairer; her legs appeared longer...

She let her slightly curled, shiny black hair cascade down and styled it into a flattering look.

Now, all that was missing was the music.

It was so cold, though—she was practically freezing into a popsicle.

That damn Jiang Jinghuai. If he still didn’t forgive her this time, then she’d...

Taking advantage of Meng Shuyan not being home, Tian Sangsang took a deep breath, wrapped herself in the lingering fragrance, and marched out.

She pushed open the bedroom door and strode straight to the desk.

A meter away, she halted.

The master bedroom was spacious, easily fitting two occupants, which left room for a desk where Tian Sangsang’s books were placed alongside Jiang Jinghuai’s occasional handcrafted carvings.

The room was silent; the man showed no reaction.

After a moment, Jiang Jinghuai, who had been reading, furrowed his handsome brows. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to look at her. His index finger lightly tapped the desk surface.

His deep, dark eyes grew heavier—then heavier still.

His gaze traveled from her face, bit by bit, downward.

Her radiant bare face, her enchanting gaze...

That sleep gown...

Still downward...

And further downward...

A pair of fuzzy pink childish house slippers.

The sensation of allure practically dissipated.

A tongue-tied Jiang Jinghuai felt his heart racing like a startled deer. Yet no matter how tumultuous his inner turmoil, his refined face—sharp brows, deep eyes, high nose, and thin lips—remained composed and cool, projecting his consistent air of aloof indifference, unattainably above it all.

Tian Sangsang bit her lip in disappointment. She had gone all out in an attempt to flaunt her body, yet he remained unresponsive! Had she overestimated her own charm, or underestimated his self-control?

He usually acted like a wolf, didn’t he?

She let out a soft laugh and snapped her fingers dramatically. "Ahem, my dear little apple over there, look this way—I feel like singing."

Jiang Jinghuai, this time, casually raised his head, pressed his lips together, and looked at her with a faintly amused expression.

Tian Sangsang was rather pleased with his reaction, mentally setting her own background music. Her rule was: never sing a song you’ve sung before—always sing something fresh. Moreover, singing must suit the occasion; whatever song fits the moment, that’s the one to pick. All about the fine details.

Alright, a cheerful and mellow tune, a rhythm that’s unstoppable—here it goes:

Life is full of trials and hardships

Seldom does it bring joy

A heartfelt smile is even harder to come by

Don’t let it slip away

When relaxed, stay relaxed

Don’t waste time brooding

Good things come with ease, always leading to good outcomes

Drink with abandon, sing out loud

Together, our hearts stay warm

You say it, I say it

Onstage or offstage, everything is fun

Life becomes better

Her airy yet tender voice sang this lively tune, her enchanting, soul-catching gaze fixed squarely on the man before her. Yet the man showed no reaction.

Tian Sangsang mulled over this as she sang—was the song perhaps too proper? Maybe switch to something spicier?

"Every day, I need your love

My thoughts are yours to guess

I, love, you

I just want you to make my days exciting

Keep it on your lips, every day

But what exactly is true love?

I, love, you

How fast can words outpace imagination"

Tian Sangsang began swaying her body to the rhythm, her hands waving back and forth.