Starting Off By Confessing To My Classmate's Mother

Fang Zhiya clutched her swollen, sprained ankle as fear churned in her chest. She couldn't run if she tried, and the thought of being harmed here in the dimly lit park filled her with despair. Gripping the handle of her luggage tightly, she prepared to wield it as a makeshift weapon.

But just as panic began to consume her, a familiar voice broke through the night.

"Fang Auntie, is that you? What are you doing here at this hour?"

It was Li Zhiyan.

Relief washed over her like a wave, dispelling the suffocating fog of fear.

"I was just passing by and saw someone sitting here. I thought you might need help," Zhiyan said, concern etched across his youthful face.

"I… I…" Fang Zhiya hesitated, her voice trembling as tears welled up again. "The court seized my house today. I had nowhere to go and ended up spraining my ankle while leaving. I… I didn't even have time to find another place to stay…"

The humiliation of her situation made her avert her eyes. "I'm sorry, Zhiyan, for letting you see me like this."

Her voice was soft, almost breaking, as she felt the sting of revealing such a vulnerable side of herself to someone much younger.

"Aunt Fang, don't say that. Let me take you somewhere safe for the night. I brought my e-bike; I'll take you to a hotel."

Fang Zhiya looked at him, her heart moved by the sincerity in his tone. "Alright," she whispered, clutching her luggage.

Zhiyan quickly secured her suitcase to the front of the e-bike. It looked a bit awkward but steady enough. "Come on, Aunt Fang. You can hold onto me tightly so you don't fall."

The moment Fang Zhiya climbed onto the bike, she leaned against him, her body weak from exhaustion and pain.

"Let's go, Zhiyan…"

Her soft, almost submissive tone revealed how drained she was, both physically and emotionally. Zhiyan nodded, starting the bike carefully.

---

The ride to the hotel was quiet except for the hum of the e-bike. Fang Zhiya pressed closer to Zhiyan, her arms wrapped gently around his waist. Her warmth seeped through his shirt, a reminder of just how close they were.

"Aunt Fang, you're sweating a lot," Zhiyan said, glancing back slightly. "You should take a shower when we get to the hotel. You'll feel much better."

Fang Zhiya's cheeks burned at his innocent remark. They arrived at the hotel soon after, and as she tried to step off the bike, she winced in pain, her ankle refusing to bear her weight.

"Ah…"

The small cry of pain tugged at Zhiyan's heart. "Aunt Fang, lean on me. I'll help you inside."

Despite her traditional values and hesitation about physical contact, Fang Zhiya had no choice but to drape her arm over his shoulder. Her face flushed as she felt the heat radiating from his strong, youthful frame.

They made their way to the front desk.

"One room, please," Zhiyan said.

The receptionist gave a knowing smile, sliding the room key across the counter. "Would you like a pack of condoms? Five pieces are discounted today."

Fang Zhiya's face turned crimson. Her conservative upbringing didn't prepare her for this kind of misunderstanding, especially not with a young man more than two decades her junior.

"No need," Zhiyan replied calmly. "Just the room is fine."

The receptionist smirked, clearly jumping to her own conclusions.

---

Once inside the room, Zhiyan set down the luggage and turned on the air conditioning. "Aunt Fang, you should take a shower first. You'll feel better after cooling off."

The sticky sensation of dried sweat on her skin made Fang Zhiya want nothing more than to wash up. But as she looked around the single room with its large bed and semi-transparent glass walls, unease settled in.

"Don't worry, Aunt Fang," Zhiyan said, sensing her hesitation. "I'll step outside for a bit. Take your time."

As the door clicked shut behind him, Fang Zhiya felt her heart warm at his thoughtfulness. She quickly showered, finishing in half the time it normally took her.

---

"Zhiyan, you can come back in now," she called out after getting dressed.

When Zhiyan reentered the room, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her damp hair falling loosely over her shoulders. She was dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt and black trousers, her usual conservative style.

"Why do you always wear long sleeves, Aunt Fang? Isn't it too hot for this weather?" Zhiyan asked curiously.

"I'm just used to dressing like this," she replied softly.

They sat on the small sofa together, the air between them heavy with unspoken gratitude.

"Zhiyan, thank you for tonight. I don't know what I would've done without you," she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"It's nothing, Aunt Fang. But… where's the class president? Shouldn't he be with you?"

The mention of her son caused her expression to darken. "He's staying with a friend. I suppose he's… busy."

Zhiyan frowned but didn't press further. Instead, his gaze fell to her injured ankle. "Aunt Fang, your foot is swollen. Let me take a look."

"Oh, it's fine. I'll be okay after some rest," she said, shaking her head.

"A sprain can't heal properly if the blood isn't circulated. I've studied some traditional Chinese massage techniques. Let me help."

Fang Zhiya hesitated. The idea of him touching her foot felt improper. But the pain in her ankle reminded her that practicality often outweighed propriety.

"Alright… but just this once," she finally agreed, her voice barely audible.

Zhiyan carefully lifted her leg onto his lap, noticing how her body stiffened at the contact. "Relax, Aunt Fang. I'll be gentle."

He rolled up her pant leg, revealing her smooth, porcelain-like skin. Her legs were well-proportioned and surprisingly youthful—traits that could only come from meticulous care.

As he began to massage the swollen area, he activated his system-enhanced skills. His hands moved with precision and a touch that seemed to draw out the pain from her ankle.

"Ah…" Fang Zhiya gasped softly. The initial pain melted away, replaced by a warm, tingling sensation that spread up her leg.

Her cheeks flushed as she closed her eyes, her breathing uneven. The mixture of pain relief and soothing comfort left her almost disoriented.

"Your hands… they're amazing…" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zhiyan glanced at her, startled. Her delicate features were relaxed, but a faint blush colored her cheeks. Her grip on his arm tightened slightly as if anchoring herself.

"Fang Auntie, are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Mm… it feels so good… like nothing I've ever experienced…"

For a brief moment, she seemed lost in a haze, muttering something under her breath.

"Old habits die hard," she murmured dreamily. "Husband… your hands feel so good…"

Zhiyan froze.

Did she just call him her husband?

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