Chapter 88: Able to Pick It Up, Unable to Let It Go

Tang Xien just smiled when she heard that. “It’s no surprise. Neither of us is the obedient type—we’ve got our own ideas and attitudes. That’s why our parents see us as rebels even at thirty.”

She paused, then drained the red wine from her glass in one go. Her laughter lingered softly. “But I didn’t get her approval. When love clashes with family ties, you separate them. Within my means, I give my parents the best filial piety I can. As for the person I choose to spend my life with, if they don’t approve, I don’t bring her home. I keep it secret. Hide her away.”

The last part was laced with teasing, and even Ji Zhenshi couldn’t help widening her eyes in disbelief. Could Teacher Tang really be so compartmentalized?

Keep it secret. Hide her away. Wasn’t that just having a secret lover?

Ji Zhenshi had thought Tang Xien was principled, someone who did everything openly and upright. She never imagined her mentor would handle things in a way that shattered her cool, rational image.

The pedestal had come crashing down.

“Ah?” Ji Zhenshi stared at Tang Xien in horror.

The shining, exalted image of her mentor collapsed in that moment, dealing a heavy blow to Ji Zhenshi’s already shattered heart. She couldn’t calm down for a long time.

Maybe today was just cursed. She shouldn’t have gone out at all.

Tang Xien remained composed. “Haven’t you heard that line? Take someone to a hidden paradise deep in the clouds, live a life of bare scraps, gaze at mortal wonders, and savor happiness through every meal and every season.”

“I must really be drunk…” Ji Zhenshi bit down on her straw and glanced at her beer—barely two sips. She shook her head, shocked again, half-convinced that Tang Xien had been body-snatched tonight.

It was terrifying. To hear such words from her mouth.

This must be Tang Xien’s true black-bellied side. No wonder she had few friends. She kept up that distant aura to hide it.

Ji Zhenshi sighed. “Teacher Tang, so this is who you really are.”

Tang Xien only smiled without replying. Instead, she quietly accompanied Ji Zhenshi, drink after drink.

Truth be told, she wasn’t good at being anyone’s life coach—not in the spiritual sense, anyway.

As someone who’d been through it, she’d told Ji Zhenshi everything she could. Tang Xien had no interest in playing the wise mentor or meddling in her decisions.

Finally, Tang Xien stood. “Thanks for keeping me company tonight. I think I can finally get some good sleep. Good night.”

But it seemed Ji Zhenshi wouldn’t be sleeping well tonight—like the bright moon outside the window, gazing distantly until dawn.

Ji Zhenshi muttered oddly to herself, “Weren’t you supposed to stay with me?”

So she was just a tool after all?

Tang Xien didn’t rush her to leave. Instead, she leisurely packed her things and called a designated driver before staggering out with her unsteady body.

“Ji Zhenshi, I’m giving you permission to indulge tomorrow. Get back to normal the day after.”

“Why?”

“Because we have conference materials to prepare the day after. Real work.”

“…”

Even heartbroken, work came first. She was the distant Teacher Tang once more.

Now Ji Zhenshi was alone again.

Tang Xien had sat there so long—who knew if she’d been the one comforting Ji Zhenshi, or if Ji Zhenshi had been the one keeping her company through all that wine?

The surroundings fell quiet again. In her solitude, Ji Zhenshi inevitably thought of Li Yunli again—the Li Yunli she’d broken up with.

She had nowhere left to go. She could only sit alone in this lounge, destined to wait until dawn by herself.

It was pointless. Utterly meaningless.

Ji Zhenshi clutched her last shred of salvation, picking up the violin once more. Her injured hands ached terribly as she held it, but she threw herself into the melodies again and again. Somber, soaring strains filled the practice room.

All through the night, she lost track of how many pieces she played. She ran through every tune she could recall, forcing herself to perform them flawlessly, over and over.

She was on the verge of forgetting that her life was about to lose Sister A-Yun forever.

That night, Ji Zhenshi’s rain never stopped, soaking the back of her shirt.

Finally, utterly spent, she could no longer draw the bow across the strings. Her hands gave out, and she collapsed onto the cold floor, watching the sun rise in the east with her own eyes.

Winter had its sun too. Winter’s sun was warm, heralding the bloom of spring. Everything was getting better.

Unfortunately, the sunlight couldn’t reach Ji Zhenshi.

Splayed out on the floor in a big X, the exhausted girl closed her heavy eyelids at last. She could finally sleep without a thought in her head.

She was going to sleep. Good night. Sweet dreams.

…

In the end, Ji Zhenshi still went to the bar.

Listening to her teacher was never wrong.

She sat cross-legged in the booth, clutching a glass of alcohol, her face flushed red from drinking.

Propping her chin, she watched the woman singing and DJing on stage. It held no appeal. After a bit more drinking, the noise below grew too much, so she headed upstairs and booked a small private booth.

She didn’t like sitting primly on the sofa, so she perched on the coffee table instead, hands clasped in prayer, trying to clear her mind.

Ji Zhenshi stared at the glass in front of her. Before long, grief welled up, and she started crying to herself. “Wahhh, Sister A-Yun, you don’t want me anymore. I only said it in the heat of the moment back then. My mom was threatening to die, the pressure was crushing me, so that’s why I said we should break up. But shouldn’t we have talked it over properly before actually doing it?”

“I love you so much. I’m so obedient to you. Are we really breaking up just because of my one impulsive moment?”

“Why? Why does everyone have to pressure me?”

“Am I really just unwanted Little Cabbage? But Sister A-Yun, you said before that Little Cabbage was your favorite. You lied to me, wahhh.”

“I have no wife anymore. I’m doomed to a lonely old age. I’m unwanted Little Cabbage now.”

Pitiful and disheveled, she was about to wail without restraint when she noticed the big screen playing “Happy Breakup.” The more she cried, the worse it felt.

Ji Zhenshi froze in shock. She couldn’t believe something so perfectly timed. She glanced around. “No way there’s surveillance, right?”

She staggered to her feet, the room spinning wildly. She knew she was drunk.

She couldn’t go back to the coffee shop, wouldn’t go home to the Ji Family. Ji Zhenshi had never felt so wretched—no place to even drink in peace except this bar by herself.

But she hated the bar’s noisy chaos. Her thoughts were already a mess; the racket only made her spiral more.

She thought of so much: her first kiss with Li Yunli, the first time they’d been fully intimate, their steamy moment in the bathroom after the power outage.

All those thoughts boiled down to one thing—she missed Li Yunli.

They’d broken up. Really broken up.

Li Yunli wasn’t one for jokes. That day’s fruitless end had pronounced their relationship over. No matter how unwilling Ji Zhenshi was to face it, no matter how reluctant Li Yunli felt, their romance was finished.

For those who loved each other, parting was heart-wrenching.

Everything had been improving. Her duet with Tang Xien at the gala had been hailed as a “duet of mortals,” their first formal collaboration a smashing success. Li Yunli had regained her health too; she was no longer the mute others whispered about. Everything was getting better.

Yet they’d parted ways. Completely, without mercy.

The “Happy Breakup” on screen was too on-the-nose. Ji Zhenshi watched and couldn’t help laughing bitterly. “I’ve never done anything bad in my life. Never killed or robbed or hurt anyone. So why does everything go so wrong? I just want to be with the person I love. Is that so wrong?”

Her laughter carried helplessness, waves of powerlessness crashing over her.

“Sister A-Yun, the fortune-teller said we were a match made in heaven.” Ji Zhenshi mixed vodka and premixed drinks, the burn in her throat mixing with tears as she sobbed messily.

She hugged the bottle, legs crossed on the coffee table. No one was there, but she spoke earnestly to herself. “Sister A-Yun, I really love you.”

“I’ll never fall for anyone else. How am I supposed to live without you?”

The music played at a moderate volume, muffling her words.

Ji Zhenshi slapped her thigh. “I’m not living anymore.”

“I’m not living anymore…”

The words echoed twice. Ji Zhenshi lifted her dazed, bleary eyes in shock and watched a woman dressed head to toe in white barge into her booth without a care. That woman was clearly drunk too, lurching to one side as she walked.

Ji Zhenshi strained to focus on her face. Her gaze followed her—no recognition. No memory at all.

She definitely didn’t know this person.

She watched the stranger saunter in like they owned the place, bottle of vodka in hand. Ji Zhenshi said seriously, “H-Hi? Wrong booth? I don’t have friends.”

She meant she hadn’t invited anyone—she was alone.

But that woman didn’t notice anything amiss, didn’t realize she’d stumbled into the wrong booth. She charged straight at Ji Zhenshi and dove into her arms.

Ji Zhenshi caught her awkwardly as she pounced.

The woman’s drunken imbalance toppled them both, pinning Ji Zhenshi to the table.

Their eyes met. Staring in terror at the woman above her, Ji Zhenshi struggled to keep her eyes open for several seconds. “Hey, you can’t just—why are you grabbing me like that? I warn you, don’t try anything. I came here with a clean heart, just to drink. I have a girlfriend—this is way over the line.”

For a split second, Ji Zhenshi even wondered if this was some KTV complimentary service. But the woman atop her had clearly drunk even more; they were equally wasted.

The woman pressing down on Ji Zhenshi ignored her—or maybe didn’t catch her slurred words. She tilted her head, peering for a few seconds. “Am I hallucinating? Why do you look so familiar?”

“Familiar or not, can you get off first? Who crashes a booth and starts groping? Someone manage this! In broad daylight, just taking advantage like that?” Ji Zhenshi’s veins bulged from the pressure. Both drunk and off-balance, with Ji Zhenshi pinned beneath, she couldn’t muster the strength. They just stared.

Had people gotten this bold? Bursting in and groping?

Through the haze, Ji Zhenshi thought the woman looked a bit familiar too.

They stared for minutes until Ji Zhenshi’s pupils shrank in realization. “Nosy Parker?”

“Rich fool?”

The names burst out in unison, dredging up a fading memory from afar.

Ji Zhenshi remembered: after stealing a kiss from Li Yunli and getting silently rejected, she’d wandered glumly down the street, picking a fight with a brick, when she’d run into a con artist preying on this “rich fool.” That’s when this woman had spoken up to warn her.

What kind of fate did she have with her? Why did she always run into her during heartbreaks?

Was this woman only triggered during Ji Zhenshi’s breakups?

Gritting her teeth, Ji Zhenshi shoved the intruder off. “I’m not a rich fool—I have a name. Don’t call me that. Besides, I didn’t get scammed that time, did I?”

The woman with the bottle snorted, swaying as she flopped onto the sofa. “I have a name too, but you called me Nosy Parker.”

Ji Zhenshi sat up, rubbing her sore arms, and gave her a lazy glance. “Miss, unless I’ve drunk myself into oblivion, this is my booth. How do you barge into the wrong one and act so entitled?”

The woman spread her hands and chugged some vodka boldly. “Yeah, I know now that I got the wrong one. But since I’m here, why not get acquainted? I’m Ye Wuzhi. All our meetings have been so memorable. That’s fate, right?”

“Ye Wuzhi.” Ji Zhenshi repeated the name thickly, then snorted coldly. “Who wants fate with you? I question the IQ of women who crash booths and take cheap shots. I don’t want friends either, so please leave. Don’t bother me.”

Couldn’t she see Ji Zhenshi was upset? Zero awareness.

Plus, getting the booth wrong? Her eyes and brain must both be faulty.

Ye Wuzhi grinned and glanced at the screen playing “Happy Breakup.” “Says no fate? You’re heartbroken too? Perfect timing. I just dumped some tasteless nobody. We’re a match.”

Ji Zhenshi exhaled deeply against her chest, sprawling brazenly on the table. She grabbed the mic and yelled, “None of your business?”

She turned her head, then mocked with a laugh. “But are you sure you dumped her—and she didn’t dump you?”

Ye Wuzhi stood, patted Ji Zhenshi’s shoulder, clinked her bottle against it, and tossed back a hearty swig. “Don’t nitpick. I’m the type who can pick it up and let it go. Bye-bye, on to the next one’s even sweeter. Everyone loves me, men and women alike. Why dwell on her?”

Ji Zhenshi ground her molars and slapped the hand off her shoulder. “I’m the type who picks it up but can’t let go. Happy now?”

That was exactly why she was here—she couldn’t let go. If she could shrug it off, she wouldn’t be hurting like this.

“Huh?” Ye Wuzhi stumbled from the shove, bent down to scrutinize her face, and her hazy eyes lit up.

She suddenly grinned at Ji Zhenshi. “S-Such a straightforward person. You’re interesting. Nice—I think I’m starting to like you, rich fool.”

Ji Zhenshi glared but didn’t want to talk to this drunk anymore.

She cracked open a beer, took two gulps, propped her heavy chin, and stared blankly at the “Happy Breakup” video.

“Fine, stay if you want.” Ji Zhenshi scooted over on the table and counted the empty bottles at her feet—eight exactly.

In her mind, she vowed: if she stayed sober after eight, she’d call Sister A-Yun. Reward herself by hearing her voice.

Good. You got this, Ji Zhenshi.

Did getting drunk let her get greedy for that voice?

Days had passed since leaving Yang Ying’s house. She’d even gone on a work trip with Tang Xien. Normally, even one day apart clawed at her heart—but these days, no contact at all.

To be precise, Ji Zhenshi sent messages. Li Yunli didn’t reply.