Chapter 26: Her Past

“You said that after I graduate, I won’t be able to eat your cooking often. How am I supposed to get through those bleak days? How about this, Sister A-Yun—you open the coffee shop wherever I go?” Ji Zhenshi threw her head back and wailed. The mere thought of not being able to eat Li Yunli’s home-cooked meals was heartbreaking.

“Stop talking nonsense. Do you think that’s possible?” Li Yunli figured Ji Zhenshi must have eaten too much; she was stuffed and now spouting ridiculous ideas.

The mention of graduation seemed to remind Li Yunli of something. She set down her bowl and chopsticks, then pulled a thick stack of materials from a drawer on the other side of the table. “By the way, these are some orchestras in the country that are recruiting violinists, along with job listings from studios and companies related to your major. I gathered them for you as reference. If none of these appeal to you, don’t rush. I suggest you might consider joining an orchestra—that way, you’ll have more chances to perform on stage.”

The hefty stack was full of colorful pages, highlighted with different fluorescent pens to mark key information. Everything was neatly clipped and categorized, making every detail easy to grasp at a glance.

Li Yunli knew exactly what Ji Zhenshi wanted. She always had.

The last time Ji Zhenshi had confessed her confusion, Li Yunli hadn’t pushed her. She’d kept telling her not to worry. In reality, Li Yunli had been quietly collecting and organizing all sorts of information behind the scenes, letting Ji Zhenshi choose for herself.

Ji Zhenshi yearned for the stage, for an audience. Li Yunli had always known that.

“So much?” The thick stack felt substantial in Ji Zhenshi’s arms, and she clicked her tongue in amazement. “How long did it take to put this together? You must have stayed up late these past few nights.”

Ji Zhenshi’s focus wasn’t on the materials themselves but on how much time and effort Li Yunli must have spent compiling them.

She worked during the day, so she could only handle this sort of thing at night.

Li Yunli smiled calmly and signed with her hands, “Staying up once in a while doesn’t matter much. What’s more important is your future, Xiao Zhen. Don’t rush, and don’t get anxious just because others seem to have their paths figured out while you don’t. You’ll find the one that’s right for you. And as I told you before, if you want to go abroad for further studies, I’ll support you completely. I’ll cover all your expenses—no need to hold back if that’s what you want.”

Li Yunli had mentioned the second half of that half a year ago. With Ji Zhenshi’s qualifications, studying abroad could lead to even better opportunities—whether she returned or stayed overseas.

She just worried that Ji Zhenshi might hesitate because of money, so she’d been paying close attention to see if she had any plans to go abroad. If she did, Li Yunli would back her all the way.

Unfortunately, Ji Zhenshi didn’t seem interested in leaving the country or staying in school longer. Li Yunli didn’t interfere with her choices, letting her develop freely.

Ji Zhenshi flipped through the materials, and it was clear how much care Li Yunli had put into them.

A soft warmth bloomed in her heart. Ji Zhenshi fought to steady her pounding chest, already so full of Li Yunli that there was no room for anyone else.

No one else would ever care for her like this. She wouldn’t fall for anyone else.

Ji Zhenshi lifted her chin decisively. “I don’t want to go abroad. It’s got nothing to do with money.”

It has everything to do with you.

Ji Zhenshi wanted to stay here, to remain by Li Yunli’s side. To make that possible, she’d studied and practiced her violin relentlessly, earning top grades to get into Beinan Music Academy without disappointing Li Yunli.

That had always been her secret.

On the blank page for college aspirations, while everyone else wrote their dream schools and future goals, Ji Zhenshi had simply written three words: Li Yunli.

Li Yunli—written neatly stroke by stroke. It was eighteen-year-old Ji Zhenshi’s secret, and it remained twenty-two-year-old Ji Zhenshi’s secret.

If secret love were a required course, Ji Zhenshi was acing it with flying colors.

“Then stay in the country. Stay by my side, close enough that I can take care of you.” Li Yunli cleared the dishes while signing to Ji Zhenshi with a smile.

Deep down, Li Yunli didn’t want this little one wandering far either. She’d worry about her struggling alone, and truthfully, she’d miss her too much.

This pesky kid had been buzzing around her for six years. Sending her off to some unfamiliar place? Li Yunli couldn’t bear it.

But she never breathed a word of it to Ji Zhenshi. She didn’t want to be the chain holding her back from going farther if that’s what she needed. So when Ji Zhenshi said she didn’t want to go abroad, it hit Li Yunli right in the sweet spot. The smile never left her eyes.

Ji Zhenshi neither confirmed nor denied it. She arched a brow, set the materials aside, and grabbed Li Yunli’s hand as she reached for the dishes. “Sister A-Yun, I have something to tell you… Sit down first. I’ve got something to show you.”

If she pulled out the materials from Zheng Siqi now, wouldn’t that waste all of Li Yunli’s effort worrying over her?

Ji Zhenshi hated the thought of squandering Li Yunli’s kindness. The good news she’d been eager to share suddenly felt hesitant.

Maybe tell her in a couple of days?

“Hm?” Li Yunli sat back down.

“I actually…” Ji Zhenshi’s voice lacked conviction, but she steeled herself and pulled something from her backpack to show Li Yunli. “Someone from Beinan Cherry Blossom Culture Company approached me today. They think highly of me and want to sign me, offer me a better platform for development.”

Li Yunli had thought Ji Zhenshi was being shy about something else. She glanced over the materials and lit up with joy. “This is great news! With a company backing you, your opportunities will multiply. You’ll get everything you want in the end. But why don’t you seem happy about it, Xiao Zhen? Did they make some unreasonable demands? Or restrict you from competitions?”

Normally, Ji Zhenshi couldn’t hide her excitement if something good happened. But today, there wasn’t a trace of it on her face. She hadn’t even mentioned it the moment she arrived at the coffee shop.

This was very out of character for Xiao Zhen.

Ji Zhenshi’s brows drooped as she sighed. She slumped over the chair, her face devoid of any thrill. She buried her head in a throw pillow, her voice muffled. “I’m not unhappy. I just feel like all this stuff you prepared for me went to waste. It’s a little heartbreaking to think I’ve taken up your time like that.”

That was her worry?

Li Yunli raised her brows with an amused smile, never expecting that to be Ji Zhenshi’s concern.

She circled around and sat beside her, gently removing the pillow from Ji Zhenshi’s head. “Not at all. I’m thrilled you’ve got such a great opportunity—it proves how outstanding our Xiao Zhen is. You don’t need those materials at all. And what’s there to feel bad about? They’re not that important anyway. It’s no big deal if they go unused. Why think like that?”

Li Yunli ruffled Ji Zhenshi’s golden hair, then cupped her face and rested it on her lap, stroking her soothingly. She didn’t forget to add, “Just be cautious, Xiao Zhen. Let me pass those materials to a friend so she can get a lawyer to review them. Once everything checks out, you can sign. Okay?”

Ji Zhenshi lay obediently on Li Yunli’s lap. “Oh.”

Then it clicked—she’d caught the implication in Li Yunli’s words. Ji Zhenshi’s eyes sharpened, her tone turning drawn-out and teasing. “That all-powerful friend again~ I’ve never even met her. So mysterious, so impressive. When can I meet Sister A-Yun’s friend? I’m really curious.”

Sourness tinged her words. The more Ji Zhenshi thought about it, the more annoyed she got. She opened her mouth to nip at Li Yunli’s thigh in protest.

Luckily, Li Yunli was quick. She pinched Ji Zhenshi’s jaw and gave her cheek a playful swat, then signed her explanation. “She’s a college classmate. She was developing out of town a few years back and only recently returned. She’s not that mysterious—we just haven’t seen each other in a while. If Xiao Zhen wants to meet her, I can invite her over for dinner once you’re free. You’ll get to know each other then.”

Ji Zhenshi hadn’t even started learning basic math back when Li Yunli was in college—heck, she might’ve still been wetting the bed. Friends from that era were total strangers to her.

“Then let’s meet her.” Chastened, Ji Zhenshi huffed. She sat up from Li Yunli’s lap and shot her a glare. “You hit me again. So mean—no one’s going to want you like this.”

She’d been the one trying to bite, and it hadn’t worked. Yet Ji Zhenshi acted as if Li Yunli had wronged her terribly. She puffed up indignantly.

Li Yunli stood to finish washing the dishes, responding nonchalantly, “Life’s too short to worry about marriage. I don’t need to depend on anyone, so it doesn’t matter if someone wants me or not. I don’t care, and Xiao Zhen shouldn’t either. You’re your own person with your own mind—why fret over whether others want you?”

“So you’re not getting married? If you don’t marry, you’ll still date someone, right? What kind of person would you like, Sister A-Yun?” Ji Zhenshi trailed after Li Yunli, peppering her with questions.

That wasn’t really her question at all.

What she wanted to know was whether Li Yunli liked men. If not, maybe her feelings had a chance to come into the light.

If Li Yunli did like men, Ji Zhenshi would bury her secret forever. She wouldn’t burden Li Yunli with it or confess. At least this way, she could stay by her side.

Li Yunli didn’t look up, falling back on the excuse she’d given everyone before. “Someone with my kind of defect doesn’t need to trouble anyone.”

Ji Zhenshi bristled at that. “What defect? You’re doing it again. It’s not like you were born this way. What if it gets cured? You’ve been seeing doctors all along. You’ll speak again someday—why make such a big deal of it? Anyone who truly likes you wouldn’t care about that.”

Li Yunli had become mute at twelve, after her father blew their demolition payout on gambling. He got in too deep, lost everything, and still wasn’t satisfied. Driven mad, he borrowed more until the debts piled up.

Creditors came pounding on the door for money, but her father had vanished long ago. She and her mother were left to face waves of vicious thugs ready to tear the place apart.

She’d watched her mother beg desperately, only to be dragged into that dark little room by two burly men.

She couldn’t remember her mother’s screams anymore—maybe she’d forced herself to forget. She only recalled standing in the scorching summer courtyard, feeling like she was in a frozen wasteland. Tears fell uselessly; no one would stick their neck out for this kind of mess. Helpless, she could only watch. Soon, her throat went hoarse from crying. A few days later, her mother drank from that little black bottle.

She’d prepared it for days. Li Yunli had seen her mother hesitate time and again, sobbing through the nights, even cooking her several hearty meals first. In the end, she still drank it.

Li Yunli spiked a fever of over 104 degrees and nearly didn’t wake up. A kind neighbor rushed her to the hospital. When she came to, she stood barefoot in the ward, mouth opening silently no matter how she tried.

The doctor called it traumatic stress disorder—PTSD. Her vocal cords were undamaged, but she simply couldn’t produce sound. Medication didn’t help, and no one knew when she might speak again.

Any sound might bring back that day in the courtyard, crying endlessly, and her mother’s voice. She shut herself off, scraped by with part-time jobs through college, only to fall into another pit.

Luckily, she’d met that person who pulled her from the fire—someone whose narrow single bed still felt like the safest place.

In her twenties, she’d come to depend on a high schooler.

“Xiao Zhen, I’m not in the mood to think about marriage.” Li Yunli cut the topic short, unwilling to dwell on how she’d become mute. Subconsciously, she was still running from it.

Seeing she didn’t want to talk, Ji Zhenshi nodded. “Oh.”

“Then I’m off to shower. Come up soon, Sister A-Yun—don’t stay up too late.”

Without needing Li Yunli to ask, Ji Zhenshi was already planning to stay. It felt more natural than going back to her parents’ place.

She bounded upstairs three steps at a time, as if afraid Li Yunli might tell her to leave.

But when had Li Yunli ever chased her away?

Once Ji Zhenshi was out of sight upstairs, Li Yunli paused her dishwashing. The calm composure vanished from her face, replaced by an indescribable agony.

Ji Zhenshi didn’t know, and Li Yunli had never told her. Those days were a nightmare she shuddered at just thinking about.

She didn’t want Ji Zhenshi—who’d brought it up innocently—to feel guilty. Li Yunli closed her eyes, steadying her emotions alone.

Late into the night, the coffee shop blazed with light. The woman’s silhouette looked so frail, as if a gust of wind might topple her.

No one knew. No one craved normalcy more than Li Yunli herself—to speak with Ji Zhenshi without barriers, to clear up misunderstandings easily.

But she couldn’t. Her regular checkups showed healthy vocal cords and hearing, aside from some functional atrophy from disuse.

Still, she couldn’t utter a word. Countless failed attempts had numbed her. The doctors said it was psychological.

Li Yunli refused to open that door and face it. What good would a therapist do? It would all be for nothing.

After a long while, Li Yunli slowly opened her eyes. In her mind appeared Ji Zhenshi playing the violin, filling the void in her heart. The dull ache eased just a little.

Life was full of suffering as a rule, but Ji Zhenshi was her one spot of sweetness.

“Sister A-Yun, I’m done showering. You coming up?”

“I’m warming the bed for you—a nice toasty nest waiting. Hurry, or I’ll lock the door!”

Ji Zhenshi’s voice floated down from upstairs, snapping Li Yunli from her reverie.

Catching the full gist, Li Yunli couldn’t help a soft chuckle. She thought to herself, Warming the bed in summer?

Li Yunli’s eyes immediately caught the book cover: National Standard Sign Language Compendium. Several balled-up pieces of paper tumbled out too, faintly showing traces of writing.

She knew without looking—they were Ji Zhenshi’s scribbled musical notes. She always jotted down inspirations like that, stuffing them into her bag. She still hadn’t composed a full piece.

But that book above all. Li Yunli picked it up and examined it.

Was Ji Zhenshi learning sign language?