White Cafe
Ji Zhenshi stretched out her legs, crossing them casually on the stairs. She lounged without a care, scrolling through violin performance videos from her seniors on her tablet. Every now and then, she glanced up at Li Yunli behind the counter, humming a tune in a lazy, carefree sway.
Xiao Ning from the coffee shop brought Ji Zhenshi a glass of lemon water. Seeing her humming idly, Xiao Ning smiled and asked, “Student Xiao Ji, you’ve been pretty free these past couple of days, huh? No classes?”
Though Ji Zhenshi used to drop by often, it was usually every few days, not like this—showing up every single day.
Ji Zhenshi had her own busy life: schoolwork, preparing her graduation thesis, and the occasional competition.
She pulled off her over-ear headphones, took a sip of the lemon water, and set the glass down on the stairs. Turning to Xiao Ning, she said, “Nah, super free.”
“College students have it made—no classes half the time.” With no customers in the shop at the moment, Xiao Ning leaned against the stairs and sighed.
In their eyes, Ji Zhenshi was the picture of freedom: at an age where she could do whatever she wanted, blessed with luck and never worrying about food or shelter.
Ji Zhenshi grabbed a napkin and wiped her nose. Her voice was stuffy as she spoke. “Sister Xiao Ning, what’s that supposed to mean? You tired of seeing me already?”
It must have been from sleeping on that park bench a few nights ago. She hadn’t planned to fall asleep, but somehow she had nodded off alone until a street cleaner woke her the next morning.
Ever since then, Ji Zhenshi hadn’t felt right. She’d had a fever the first couple of days, and though the symptoms had eased up now, her nose was still congested.
“No way! We’re always happy to see Miss Ji.” Xiao Ning quickly denied it.
She knew about the bond between Ji Zhenshi and Li Yunli, so naturally, she didn’t dare offend the young miss.
At that moment, Li Yunli gently patted Xiao Ning’s shoulder, signaling her to watch the counter. She swapped out the lemon water for a steaming cup of medicine and gestured to Ji Zhenshi. “If you’re catching a cold, drink your medicine. You planning to tough it out on your own?”
Ji Zhenshi’s voice was unmistakably congested—she was clearly under the weather.
The sight of that murky black medicine made Ji Zhenshi’s head throb. She rolled to the side and slipped her headphones back on. “I’m not drinking it. I’m not sick.”
She was stubbornly refusing meds, trying to power through, which was why it had dragged on for days. With her constitution, it shouldn’t have lasted this long otherwise.
The kind of person who’d rather suffer than take medicine.
Li Yunli had seen this coming. She straightened Ji Zhenshi’s shoulders and fixed her with a pointed look. “Drink.”
Ji Zhenshi feared nothing under heaven, but medicine was her kryptonite—like a three-year-old throwing a tantrum.
“No way, Sister A-Yun. Go get back to work. I’m sleepy; I need to nap.” Ji Zhenshi resisted with every fiber of her being.
She really couldn’t stomach it. So bitter—it was torture.
Ji Zhenshi closed her eyes, pretending to sleep, and jammed on her headphones to dodge Li Yunli’s demand. “I seriously can’t handle even a sip. I’m so tired, Sister A-Yun. Let me sleep. If I don’t rest well, how am I supposed to compete? I’ve got the Daisy Cup in the provinces next month.”
“Xiao Zhen, be good. Drink your medicine, then head upstairs to sleep properly. That’s the only way you’ll rest easy.” Li Yunli held the cup to Ji Zhenshi’s lips and smoothly removed her headphones. She was determined to get her to drink it.
The bitter herbal scent wafted between them. Li Yunli’s arched brows furrowed slightly as she leaned down and gave Ji Zhenshi’s cheek a light, warning pat.
No excuses mattered. The medicine had to go down.
Ji Zhenshi tilted her head up to meet Li Yunli’s gentle gaze. She let out a couple of pitiful whines, rubbing her nose against Li Yunli’s palm. Her damp eyes looked up imploringly. “It’s too bitter. Way too bitter. What if I chug it and end up nauseous all night, unable to eat? You don’t feel bad for me?”
Li Yunli had clearly brewed some wild herbal concoction again—something like traditional Chinese medicine. Not some untested folk remedy, but a proven recipe: minimal side effects, fast-acting. The only downside? Bitter as hell.
With all those random ingredients, how could it not be?
Unfortunately, Ji Zhenshi’s pleading fell on deaf ears. Li Yunli’s hand holding the cup didn’t budge. Her slender fingers pinched Ji Zhenshi’s nose. “I feel bad for you, but good medicine tastes bitter. Hold your breath and down it in one go. No more fussing—the sooner, the better. It’s getting cold.”
“See? Sister A-Yun doesn’t love me anymore. You’ve gone cold.”
“Quit making stuff up. This is for your own good. Did you stay out too late with friends that night? And dressed too lightly, catching a chill?”
You said you’d be back early, you little liar.
She’d probably partied till dawn, skipped the dorm, and crashed somewhere like an internet cafe for the night. That’s how she got sick.
“Nope, I was bundled up. And I’ve got a strong immune system—took that women’s self-defense elective, too. No way I’d get sick easily. That night, I just…” Midway through, Ji Zhenshi remembered the things she’d said to Ji Tingjun at the dinner. Feeling guilty, she trailed off.
If Li Yunli found out she’d crashed the party and ended up pitifully sleeping on a bench alone, she’d probably get mad and ignore her.
Ji Zhenshi dreaded Li Yunli’s silent treatment most of all. She couldn’t speak anyway, and when upset, she wouldn’t even sign. Silence was her one way of showing anger.
“Little liar.” Li Yunli huffed softly. She knew Ji Zhenshi was just stalling, rambling to buy time. No amount of coaxing would make her drink.
The medicine was about to go cold.
Even with Li Yunli’s patience, she wouldn’t indulge this nonsense. Her fingers gripped Ji Zhenshi’s chin—not too hard—and she coaxed the medicine into her mouth with half-forced insistence.
For all the force, Li Yunli’s touch was gentle, and Ji Zhenshi didn’t fight it.
“What did I lie about? Don’t think I can’t read sign language. If you’re calling me names, I get it!” Ji Zhenshi nearly choked, her long lashes fluttering as she drew her legs back from the stairs.
They rarely clashed like this. Usually, these standoffs ended with Ji Zhenshi giving in.
Most people didn’t realize it, but Li Yunli was principled and rarely compromised. Ji Zhenshi was the same, but on minor issues like this—especially when they aligned on the big stuff—yielding didn’t bother her.
“Bully.” The foul herbal taste hit late but hard. As soon as Ji Zhenshi breathed, the bitterness spread. She hadn’t even swallowed it all before she started fussing.
Li Yunli was bullying her!
“Shut it. You can read sign language but pretend not to all the time. What else would you call a little liar?” Li Yunli’s starry eyes flashed with mock reproach. She popped a candy into Ji Zhenshi’s gaping mouth and covered her wailing with her hand.
Crying like she’d suffered some great injustice—drawing glances from the coffee-sipping customers.
Ji Zhenshi blinked, silenced by force. No chance for post-medicine whining now. She rolled the candy on her tongue. “I only understand when you’re cursing me out. I’m no liar—those are just white lies. Didn’t want you worrying.”
Li Yunli gazed down at her coolly. Seeing no real anger, Ji Zhenshi looped her arms around Li Yunli’s slim waist, pressing close and subtly changing the subject. “I could get better with regular meds. Cold medicine packets work fine. Worst case, I get an IV drip. No need for you to go through all this hassle, Sister A-Yun. It’s time-consuming and exhausting.”
The candy was sweet on her tongue, and so was the feeling of being cared for.
Probably only Li Yunli would treat a little cold like a serious illness, putting her heart into nursing Ji Zhenshi.
Li Yunli pinched her cheek, her tender affection enveloping her. “I know over-the-counter stuff works. But would you actually take it?”
You think I don’t know you?
If Ji Zhenshi was willing to medicate properly, would she still be sick after all this time?
This method might be clunky, but it worked.
“I… it’s not that I won’t. I just take it when I remember. And I forget a lot…” Ji Zhenshi was speechless, completely seen through—like Li Yunli had her pegged.
She buried her face in Li Yunli’s embrace, clinging shamelessly now that the medicine was down. No letting go anytime soon.
Li Yunli’s arms were too comfy—soft and sweet-scented.
“Medicine has side effects—better to take less. And IVs mess with your violin practice. Alright, people are watching. Be good and get back to studying. I’ve got work.” Li Yunli cradled Ji Zhenshi’s fluffy head, glanced at the customers seated around the shop, and peeled her off.
She rehung Ji Zhenshi’s headphones for her. Mission accomplished, Li Yunli turned back to her tasks.
Ji Zhenshi kicked at the chair, feeling a twinge of abandonment. She huffed in self-mockery. “Manager Li is so heartless. Queen of sweet talk, but stone-cold inside.”
Hearing her, Xiao Ning and Li Yunli exchanged a glance. Li Yunli chuckled lightly, ignored her, and went back to work.
“Heart of stone, heart of stone.” Ji Zhenshi grumbled, slipping her headphones back on and humming it into a little melody.
Moments later, the wind chime at the door tinkled crisply.
Xiao Ning stepped forward politely. “Sir, can I help you with anything?”
A man with hands in his pockets strolled in. He zeroed in on Li Yunli bustling behind the counter, waved off Xiao Ning, and sauntered inside. “Nah, I know your manager. Got some business with her.”
“Oh, go right ahead, sir.”
Ji Tingjun flashed a roguish grin and ambled to the counter. He propped himself on the edge, admiring her graceful figure at work, propping his chin with deep satisfaction.
His convenient wife really had that irresistible housewife vibe—gentle and soft, easy to handle. The dream type: tender and caring, but not nosy about a man’s outside flings.
After drinking in the sight, Ji Tingjun drawled, “Li Yunli, make me a coffee. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The familiar voice sent a jolt through Li Yunli. She’d developed a stress response to him—instant tension, muscles coiling, defenses on high alert.
It was the opposite of how one should feel toward a husband. More like a conditioned enemy.
Seeing no reaction, Ji Tingjun raised his voice. “Li Yunli? I’m talking to you. Don’t recognize me? It’s Ji Tingjun.”
She’s just mute, right? She can hear fine. Why no response?
“I can hear you. Please keep your voice down, alright?” Li Yunli’s gentle gaze frosted over. She froze for a few seconds before rapidly signing to Ji Tingjun.
She’d thought she was mentally prepared to face him. But the moment he appeared, all her walls crumbled. No staying calm.
She still remembered her first night at the Ji family. Ji Tingjun had tried to force her into his bed—everyone knew his intentions. But who could help her?
She couldn’t even speak up for herself.
Ji Tingjun’s parents knew it was wrong but turned a blind eye. To them, she was his woman eventually—what was one early night?
In the end, a fed-up Ji Zhenshi—studying at the time—had yanked off her headphones and flung open the door. “Shut up already! Can’t you be quiet for five minutes? She’s not sleeping with you—you blind? Have some decency. It’s improper as hell—what’s the point? Bullying someone who can’t speak? People would think you’re desperate. Embarrassing. Let her sleep with me.”
Whether Ji Zhenshi had just wanted quiet or was genuinely helping, Li Yunli was grateful for the lifeline.
“What’re you signing? Oh, right—you’re mute. My bad. But you’re not congenitally mute, yeah? Just sick and lost your voice? So you can hear me, right?” Ji Tingjun slapped his forehead, genuinely forgetting she couldn’t speak.
Li Yunli paled at his words. She’d thought herself numb to poison, but the deliberate jab still stung.
Her heart was already riddled with holes.
Li Yunli stayed silent, but Ji Zhenshi snapped to attention first. She jumped up, her tablet—tangled in headphone cords—clattering to the floor.
No time to care. In two strides, she planted herself in front of Ji Tingjun, rapped the counter, and said coldly, “What do you want?”
Ji Zhenshi shot him a disdainful glance. Before he could reply, she tacked on a barbed jab. “You seem more like the deaf one. Know how people who can’t hear unconsciously raise their voices? This is a public place—pipe down, will you?”
Ji Tingjun wasn’t one to back down, and Ji Zhenshi knew it. Trouble followed him everywhere.
His sudden sister’s appearance caught Ji Tingjun off guard. Confirming it was her, he said, “Ji Zhenshi? It’s midweek—why aren’t you at school? Skipping?”
He eyed her prickly stance, puzzled. “And why so hostile? Eat a bomb for breakfast?”
Why the extra venom from her? Worse than at the dinner. He hadn’t even said anything yet.
Ji Tingjun sensed it: his little sister had changed, turned into a porcupine—spikes out, jabbing anyone who got close.
Ji Zhenshi didn’t budge, wedging herself between him and the counter, forcing him back a step.
She glanced back at Li Yunli’s reddened nose, gritted her teeth, and snapped, “No class, so I go where I want. No one’s minding me. I can hang here or roam wherever. What’s it to you?”
“Fine, fine—wander off wherever. Just stay alive and out of trouble.”
“What are you doing here?” Ji Zhenshi glared impatiently. She had zero interest in arguing with him.
Ji Tingjun threw up his hands like she’d asked the dumbest question, staring at her like she was an idiot. “What do you think? Coming to see my wife. What’s with that low-IQ question? Isn’t this her coffee shop? You can come, but not me? All that violin playing fried your brain? Music Academy prodigy, my ass—this level?”
Did Ji Zhenshi seriously not know about him and Li Yunli?
Ji Tingjun increasingly thought his sister was off—prolonged rebellion phase, plus some wires crossed. Her logic made no sense.
Maybe there really was no line between genius and madness.
“Who’s your wife? You got a marriage certificate or something?” Ji Zhenshi bristled instantly, rolling up her sleeves and scowling at Ji Tingjun.
She couldn’t stand him calling Li Yunli his wife. And he kept poking that sore spot, infuriating her.
Like a powder keg, ready to blow at the trigger word.
