Chapter 35: Do I Really Look Like Her?

“See you later, President Zheng.” Tang Xien shrugged her shoulders and prepared to follow him inside.

Perhaps worn down by the repeated cold treatment, Zheng Siqi grew annoyed. He let out a cold laugh and suddenly called out to Tang Xien. “Is Teacher Tang settling in okay? The difference between here and abroad must be pretty big, right? At least in this country, it doesn’t seem like there are friends around to grab dinner and chat with after work.”

He emphasized the word “friends,” loading it with layers of implication.

Tang Xien’s movements visibly stiffened at his words. She paused for a moment before turning to face him stiffly, a chill radiating from her.

He had brought it up on purpose, cracking her icy facade.

Zheng Siqi’s smile was perfectly professional, as if he knew nothing at all. “Hmm? Is Teacher Tang adapting well? Though I’ve heard you don’t make friends easily—each one is precious. If you can’t see them for a long time, do you feel lonely here all by yourself?”

The air grew thick with tension, sharp as drawn blades.

“Each one is precious.” Zheng Siqi lingered on those words, not stressing “each one” or even “friends,” but the one person who truly mattered.

The music in her earphones suddenly seemed to swell, enveloping Tang Xien completely. A suffocating helplessness washed over her, and her hand trembled uncontrollably on the glass door as she fought to rein in her emotions.

After a long moment, Tang Xien forced a faint smile, her words almost gritted out through clenched teeth. “No, work keeps me busy enough. No time for idle thoughts. If President Zheng really cares, he could put in a good word with President Zhang for a few days off—that’d be more practical.”

She closed the glass door with deliberate care—not too hard, not too soft—her face still ashen. Taking a deep breath, she locked eyes with Ji Zhenshi, who was already seated.

Neither of them looked entirely composed.

Ji Zhenshi was flushed from overexertion, while Tang Xien’s disquiet stemmed from emotional turmoil.

Five minutes of dead silence passed before Tang Xien snapped back to her usual poised and detached demeanor. She set her bag down.

No one spoke. Tang Xien narrowed her eyes at Ji Zhenshi, noticing the sweat drenching her hair and her breathing still ragged.

After a moment’s thought, Tang Xien retrieved a bottle of mineral water from the fridge and placed it on the table. Then she opened her own thermos, her tone even and devoid of inflection. “What does it feel like to climb up from the sixteenth floor?”

Judging by Ji Zhenshi’s state, it hadn’t just been a climb—she must have run up. The sweat gleamed on her flushed cheeks.

What had set her off?

“Nothing much. Just getting some exercise. I’ve been feeling run-down lately—running’s healthier.” Ji Zhenshi’s voice was low and heavy. She managed only a faint, fleeting smile.

Without standing on ceremony, she twisted open the mineral water and took a long gulp. Water—or perhaps sweat—beaded at the corner of her mouth, soaking a patch on the front of her pale pink long-sleeved shirt, the damp spot plainly visible.

Tang Xien didn’t press about what had rattled her. She elegantly crossed her legs, swiftly reining in her emotions until she was calm once more. In no particular hurry, she said, “We’ve got five minutes until our session starts. I hope you can compose yourself by then. Otherwise, it’ll affect our work.”

Ji Zhenshi pressed her lips together and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I will.”

Silence settled between them. Ji Zhenshi toyed with the bottle cap, tightening and loosening it.

Her mind blanked, drifting inevitably to that kiss. Her fingertip brushed the edge of her lips, and her eyes darkened further.

After a long stretch of quiet, Ji Zhenshi finally voiced the question weighing on her, its meaning ambiguous. “Teacher Tang, are you mentoring me purely because of the company’s arrangement?”

Tang Xien had been idly spinning a pen. At Ji Zhenshi’s unexpected words, it slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor with a sharp sound.

It was as if something had shattered.

She removed both earphones completely and set them on the desk, folding her arms. Rather than answer right away, she fixed Ji Zhenshi with an inscrutable look and countered, “What do you think?”

Ji Zhenshi didn’t mince words. “I don’t think it’s entirely that.”

“It’s because I resemble someone. An old acquaintance.”

“That friend from abroad?”

“…”

A few seconds of silence. Tang Xien didn’t respond, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on Ji Zhenshi.

“Well… don’t get the wrong idea. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. This door isn’t that soundproof—voices carry in without trying. Your conversation earlier was loud enough, so… sorry about that.” Ji Zhenshi caught the displeasure in Tang Xien’s eyes and hurried to explain.

So that was it. She had an important friend.

No wonder Tang Xien always seemed to look right through her at someone else. No wonder she’d said they looked alike after seeing the video that first time. No wonder her moods swung so wildly in Ji Zhenshi’s presence.

No one’s temper flipped to sudden gentleness without reason.

In that instant, she must have glimpsed a familiar face through Ji Zhenshi, enough to melt her icy demeanor.

Tang Xien’s frosty expression didn’t soften in the slightest. “And? What are you getting at?”

“Do I really look like her?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

The exchange hung awkwardly in the air. Just as Ji Zhenshi thought it was over, Tang Xien called after her. “Ji Zhenshi, everyone has secrets. Just like I’ve never pried into who that woman is in the photo on your phone wallpaper. Or glanced at the end of your pinned chat when you screen-mirrored your phone. Or wondered about the name scrawled across half a page under that half-written score you scratched out in dissatisfaction.”

Everyone had secrets—and Ji Zhenshi’s was Li Yunli.

“So? I’ve never been curious about your track that you’ve looped over ten thousand times—Annie’s Wonderland—and just how important it is to you. Nor have I pried into your life, Teacher Tang.”

Perhaps striking at some inner boundary, Ji Zhenshi’s deference to her senior waned. Her gaze hardened on Tang Xien, fierce as a warrior guarding her own mysteries.

Tang Xien paused at that, glancing instinctively at her earphones.

She paused the music unobtrusively. “We’re both smart enough to know better. You crossed a line just now. Since we’ve never pried into each other’s gossip, that’s for the best. Let’s hope this is the first and last time.”

She disliked others unearthing her secrets, and she had no interest in anyone else’s.

That mutual disinterest was why Tang Xien—known for being difficult—was on good terms with Ji Zhenshi. One focused solely on teaching, the other on learning.

Today, Ji Zhenshi had overstepped.

“I wasn’t gossiping about you. Not really,” Ji Zhenshi stammered, at a loss for words.

All she’d wanted to know was why Tang Xien had agreed to mentor her.

Tang Xien had cut too sharply, exposing something Ji Zhenshi had buried deep.

Under her influence, that suffocating sticky note resurfaced in Ji Zhenshi’s mind—the confession that had gone nowhere.

Li Yunli. It all came back to Li Yunli.

Li Yunli was woven into every moment of her life. Ji Zhenshi couldn’t tear herself away any more than she could rip flesh from bone.

Tang Xien stated bluntly, “Then don’t ask questions that have nothing to do with the violin.”

“…”

No mercy, echoing the oppressive “hypocrite” label from their first meeting.

Ji Zhenshi felt cornered, unable to explain herself. “I was just asking if there was another reason you chose to mentor me. It was casual, plus… the way you’ve been lately…”

Her moods did swing unpredictably, the rare gentleness downright eerie.

But Ji Zhenshi held back from voicing something so inflammatory.

Fortunately, Tang Xien didn’t press her to elaborate. Her expression softened slightly. “Does my reason for choosing you matter that much?”

Ji Zhenshi lowered her eyes, a touch deflated. “Not really. I just thought maybe you saw potential in me on the violin path. If it’s only because I happen to look like your friend… that feels a bit deflating.”

So she hadn’t been chosen for her own merits.

After a contemplative pause, the chill around Tang Xien eased considerably. “You’re overthinking it. Genetics are a wondrous thing. If it were just about looks, I could find countless look-alikes worldwide. Am I supposed to give them all special treatment?”

“You stand out compared to your peers. No better option right now. Plus, I’ve always been intrigued by left-handed violinists.”

Compelling reasons—as long as they skirted personal secrets, conversation could flow.

Tang Xien valued Ji Zhenshi’s skill and near-obsessive dedication to violin performance. Through this bold, unpolished young woman, she glimpsed echoes of a girl from her memories.

Emboldened now that she’d cleared Tang Xien’s threshold on her own merits, Ji Zhenshi’s gloom lifted a little. “I see. I’ve always been left-handed. When I first picked up the violin, I used my left hand. Couldn’t switch back after that.”

Tang Xien glanced at her left hand, resuming her businesslike demeanor. “Right. Five minutes are up. Back to work. Play that piece from yesterday again.”

In truth, since daily life favored the right hand, humans naturally had greater control over it. The obstacles Ji Zhenshi had overcome for such mastery with her left were immense.

Her plateau must have been brutal.

“Oh.” Before starting, Ji Zhenshi stole a glance under the table at her top chat—no new messages. Forcing composure, she pocketed her phone and threw herself into the music.

She must be truly disappointed in her by now.

“Stop.” The moment Tang Xien spoke, the room fell silent.

She closed her notebook and fixed Ji Zhenshi with a stern gaze. “Looks like neither of us is in any shape to continue today. One mistake is a skill issue. Two or three? That’s an attitude problem. Ji Zhenshi, if I have to point out basic errors, maybe I should retract what I said. Your brilliance is still up for debate.”

Even a piece ingrained as muscle memory was riddled with errors. Ji Zhenshi was thoroughly off today, and Tang Xien had already corrected her twice.

Precisely because it was muscle memory, her mind could wander repeatedly.

Tang Xien had little tolerance for sloppy mistakes.

“Sorry. I’m not feeling great today.” Ji Zhenshi let her hands fall limply, a wave of irrepressible melancholy crossing her face.

No matter what, Li Yunli could always unsettle her so easily.

Tang Xien removed her glasses and massaged her temples. “That’s why I said keeping things professional—no personal ties—is best for productivity.”

She’d caught herself zoning out today too.

The moment she’d glimpsed Ji Zhenshi’s distraction had mirrored her own flash of memory—that familiar face. Ji Zhenshi adrift for personal reasons; herself unraveled by dredging up someone long buried.

Once boundaries blurred—even unspoken—they threw off their fragile harmony.

“Strictly speaking, Teacher and I are still strangers. Today was on me. I apologize.” Ji Zhenshi set down her violin, gripping the floor-to-ceiling window’s railing with one hand to steady her wobbling frame.

The stair climb had left her drained; even holding the violin felt unsteady, her breaths coming faster than usual.

“Mm. Let’s hope we can maintain that going forward. We’ll end here for today. Handle your personal matters or get yourself together—sharpening the axe before chopping wood, as they say. Here’s hoping next time is more pleasant.” Tang Xien offered no harsh rebuke, though faint irritation lingered between her brows.

Dissatisfaction with her own lapses.

She couldn’t fault Ji Zhenshi entirely—not when she’d faltered too. That was why she held back.

Zheng Siqi was nothing but a troublemaker. Better if he hadn’t shown up.

“Alright, Teacher Tang. I’ll head out then.” Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Ji Zhenshi left the practice room.

Only after exiting the building did it hit her: Where was she supposed to “handle her personal matters”?

Her usual greeting to Li Yunli had gone unanswered, as if she were avoiding her like the plague. Back to the apartment to lie around in a daze all day?

Ji Zhenshi clenched her fists, frustrated at her lack of emotional control.

She wandered aimlessly down the street, then let out a self-mocking laugh. “Turns out liking someone really is a mistake.”

Li Yunli probably found her repulsive, didn’t she?

Falling for the woman she’d lived with as a “sister-in-law” for six years, pining in secret under the guise of a little sister—what else could that be but against all decency?

Li Yunli had said it herself: She only saw her as a sister.

And yet this “sister” had harbored wild, insane fantasies, dragging them both into this mess. No wonder she’d be horrified.

Ji Zhenshi, you’re truly defying heaven and reason!

Lost in thought, she tripped over a loose brick on the sidewalk, stumbling and nearly falling flat.

“Hey! Even you’re bullying me?” Ji Zhenshi whipped around, glaring incredulously at the innocuous brick lying there. She backtracked deliberately and squatted down beside it.

Jabbing a finger at it, she muttered to herself, “You’re mocking me, aren’t you? Laughing because no one wants me?”

Passersby shot strange looks at the woman crouched on the ground, carrying on a one-sided conversation with a brick. They figured she must be crazy or drunk.

Boozing in broad daylight?

“I can’t do anything about her, but I can handle you! Mocking me, huh?” Ji Zhenshi’s voice cracked with grievance. Blinking back tears, she grabbed the brick with one hand and hauled it into a nearby alley.

She hurled it hard against the wall in the corner, then dusted off her hands with satisfaction.

There. That felt better.

She wasn’t okay, so the brick didn’t get to be either!

As Ji Zhenshi turned to leave, a raspy male voice called from nearby. “Hey, miss, got some troubles? Want a reading? Might turn your luck around.”

She glanced back at the fortune-teller type—ragged clothes, not too old-looking, hands in his pockets—and started to walk away.

Total street hustler vibe.

“Relationship woes, career slumps, health issues—I can help turn it around. Free reading, no charge. Give it a shot.”

Something about that stopped Ji Zhenshi in her tracks. She turned back. “You can change my luck? Does it even work? Is it legit?”