Chapter 30

xx once said that young people should go to bed early.

It doesn’t matter who xx is. Some famous person, past or present, must have expressed a similar sentiment, right?

Back in middle school, Yun Huizhi would casually invent famous quotes and their authors for her Chinese essays, pretending she was well-read.

Whether it ever gained or lost her marks, she had no idea.

The reason for going to bed early is that when night spreads, the god of night tempts the human heart, making people prone to foolish mistakes.

Yun Huizhi was once a staunch member of the late-night club. She kept company with the moonlight and the small hours, convinced that the atmosphere of night gave her an absolute sense of comfort.

But she discovered she wasn’t an artist who needed to find inspiration in the dark. Staying up left her sluggish, only capable of doing meaningless things.

“Meaningless” made her think of her state of mind before coming to Jianjia Town.

Yun Yong had the means to send her abroad for study, but while she was preparing, she suddenly felt a chill in her heart. She wondered, how many people wished she would go as far away as possible?

The thought was childish. Her parents didn’t actually get annoyed at the sight of her; sometimes they even found excuses to see her. They were just estranged from her.

But once a demon-whispered thought takes root, it’s hard to banish. Yun Huizhi gave up on going abroad.

Her grandmother loved music and art and had taught her various instruments; she dabbled in them all.

Just dabbled, really. She learned to make her grandmother happy, but she didn’t actually like it.

Her grandmother, in teaching her, didn’t have strict demands either; it was simply so she could enrich herself and not feel lonely.

The benefit of learning a bit of music was being able to attract girls at art shows, but a trained ear could instantly tell she lacked practice and wasn’t cut out for it.

So, she couldn’t become a musician.

She liked photography. But because she liked it, she didn’t want to make a living from it.

As for why, she couldn’t quite say.

Perhaps her skill was only enough for self-amusement.

She was an English major. She chose this major without much of a plan, simply because, among all subjects, English required the least effort.

When it came time to choose a major, no one interfered, or perhaps no one cared enough to.

Enough.

Her thoughts were like a waterfall, unstoppable.

Anyway, to put it simply, the content of her late nights held no substance, so she gave them up.

During the day, she had boundless energy, full of self-satisfaction and pride, but once night fell, she easily brooded on this and that, doubting herself, doubting the world.

This sense of fragmentation once caused her considerable pain. The lack of order made her flee from city life.

She came to Jianjia to slow down, to sleep early at night, and obediently go out for breakfast in the morning.

Only then did she feel she could control her own time.

She originally felt that for a person to find complete peace, to find a sense of security, it would take a very long time.

Because after her grandmother passed, she had no home. A person without a home, no matter how much hope she had for tomorrow, still needed to find a place within her heart to stand firm.

So, she planned to find it slowly, to stay here for a year or so, and watch the cycle of spring, summer, autumn, and winter.

Her financial situation allowed for it. Her parents didn’t stint on money for her, and her grandmother had left her a large sum.

Besides, she wasn’t a stellar student in university, but she liked teaming up with business-savvy classmates to earn some money.

She probably inherited that talent from her father.

Chu Ruoyou’s appearance stirred something in her heart, a desire to follow her and leave Jianjia.

Thankfully, it was just a thought, which quickly dissipated.

First, she still didn’t want to leave.

Second, she knew Chu Ruoyou absolutely didn’t want her being a third wheel.

She mulled over a mountain of thoughts before finally snapping back to the present awkwardness.

She hadn’t been disciplined enough lately, sleeping early some nights and late on others.

Last night, because she came back late and her emotions got the better of her, she couldn’t hold back and ended up crying and laughing.

The alcohol was secondary; it was mainly the chill of the deep night that easily dredged up the deeper, hidden sorrows.

That was her entire reflection.

She wasn’t a person with excessive sadness, just that little bit, and she had to bring it out to cry about.

Now, awake, she felt a little sheepish, so embarrassing, and so foolish.

She sat on the bed, hugging her knees. Never mind the past or future, just today—how was she going to get through it?

How was she going to face Chu Ruoyou?

Chu Ruoyou had finished washing up, her voice laced with a smile, but her attitude no different from usual.

“Why are you spacing out? Feeling unwell somewhere?”

Yun Huizhi cautiously glanced at her expression. There was no sign of displeasure on Chu Ruoyou’s brow.

Only then did she dare to act playful. She knelt up on the bed and pressed her palms together. “Not uncomfortable. I’m really sorry about last night. I was being crazy. Forgive me.”

Her gesture was dramatic. Chu Ruoyou laughed, tapped her on the forehead, and gave her a gentle push back to make her sit properly.

“It’s fine. I know it was the alcohol. You’re a good drunk; you just cry and then sleep.”

The mention of crying made Yun Huizhi even more embarrassed.

She really hadn’t intended to cry last night.

But somehow, when Chu Ruoyou crouched in front of her, looking at her with a gaze full of concern and affection, the tenderness in her eyes like moonlight on a lake, as if Yun Huizhi were the most important person to her…

She just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Yun Huizhi nodded vigorously, going along with it. “Right, I was drunk. I’m a lightweight. I won’t drink casually anymore.”

Chu Ruoyou smiled but didn’t agree or disagree.

Her smile softened her features considerably. Her eyes, when she smiled, gained warmth, as if she could engrave someone into her heart just by looking at them.

Her black hair was pinned up with a tea-colored claw clip, the strands framing her face perfectly complementing her features. Her usual cool aura was replaced by gentle warmth—both mature and sisterly.

Yun Huizhi recalled how, when those hateful tears rolled down last night, Chu Ruoyou had hurriedly caught them in her palm.

Like she was holding a precious piece of jewelry, temporarily keeping it safe, not daring to let it fall.

Chu Ruoyou sat down, stroking Yun Huizhi’s head. “Huizhi, how much money have you saved? Didn’t you want to continue studying? Why aren’t you studying and playing games all day instead?”

The sudden mundane topic forced Yun Huizhi to start fabricating. “I can’t calm my mind right now. Once you leave, I’ll officially start. As for money, I’ve saved a bit of living expenses, enough to last a while.”

Chu Ruoyou had observed that Yun Huizhi’s family background must have been quite well-off, or perhaps things hadn’t truly reached a desperate state yet.

Her clothes, shoes, and various items weren’t cheap, and she didn’t pinch pennies in her daily spending.

Perhaps after her grandmother died, her relationship with her parents was just average, and knowing they were strapped for cash, she didn’t want to ask them for tuition.

But eking out a little money here and there through fun and games—Miss Yun clearly wasn’t taking it seriously.

Chu Ruoyou thought she should study. If Yun Huizhi wanted to continue her education later and lacked sufficient funds, she would help out a bit.

Before, she had felt this matter had nothing to do with her. Yun Huizhi was so clever, she could get money anywhere.

Besides, she didn’t even look like someone who wanted to study. Who knew if she was just fooling her and would take the money to do something else?

But now she didn’t think that way. She was afraid Yun Huizhi would worry about money. She wanted to help her.

As long as she got in, she could provide the tuition.

But she didn’t say it aloud. Bringing it up now would only alarm her.

They could discuss it by phone after she left.

Yun Huizhi, unaware of her thoughts, heard the concern in her words and immediately guessed Chu Ruoyou was really leaving, which was why she was giving her these instructions.

So she tried her best to make that sentence from Chu Ruoyou—”I won’t leave you”—grow fainter in her mind. Yet it still replayed over and over again.

It was just something to soothe a crying little brat.

Chu Ruoyou didn’t bring it up again, and Yun Huizhi certainly didn’t have the courage to.

Last night, when she heard it, she had stopped crying.

Chu Ruoyou then cupped her face, scrutinizing her. “You really know how to trick people into feeling sorry for you.”

Yun Huizhi felt deeply embarrassed. She’d been found out—she was just using alcohol to be unreasonable.

So, she had never thought those words counted for anything.

She was very grateful to Chu Ruoyou. At that moment, she hadn’t ignored her but instead had steadily caught her negativity.

Allowing her to quickly calm down.

The more grateful she was, the more she liked Chu Ruoyou. And at the same time, she resolved not to cling to her.

She would wave goodbye to Chu Ruoyou openly and cheerfully, wishing her an even better life.

She was mentally prepared for this. Having experienced too many unspoken farewells, when a solemn goodbye was about to appear, she was determined to attend it with her best face.

They went out as planned, cycled to the station, and took a bus further into the countryside.

They had already explored most of the town’s scenic spots, often visiting them on their way to meals or during idle moments.

Jianjia Town wasn’t large. Tourists usually planned for three days, which was enough. Chu Ruoyou had stayed for over ten days and was practically half a local.

This was the last place she wanted to visit.

“Guanyin is on a distant mountain, poppies are in a poppy field.”

Chu Ruoyou climbed the final stone step.

“What does that mean?”

Chu Ruoyou replied coolly, “I don’t know. I just read it somewhere and thought of it when I reached the mountain temple.”

Because they were entering a temple, both dressed conservatively in mid-sleeved tops and long pants, the matching colors making them look like a couple.

Chu Ruoyou didn’t believe in God, but she held some respect for Bodhisattvas. She offered incense and even kowtowed.

Inside the temple, Yun Huizhi’s favorite spot was the Hall of Heavenly Kings. She liked the sculptures of the Four Heavenly Kings, observing the colors used and the differences in their ritual implements.

The temple wasn’t crowded, but there were quite a few young people.

This was a must-visit according to every Jianjia travel guide. Everyone said the temple’s name contained the character “Yuan,” making it very effective for praying for wealth. No one knew who started that rumor.

Following the trend, they bought two beaded bracelets said to be blessed and wore them on their wrists.

On the way back, Chu Ruoyou touched her bracelet and said, “There are many temples in Xiacheng, but I’ve never been inside any of them.”

“That’s fine. If you don’t want to go, just don’t.”

“Huizhi, there’s one known to be very effective for academic prayers. Although it’s not in the mountains, it has a good location. It was once an academy. If you want, you could go there to worship in the future.”

Yun Huizhi couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She fought to stay calm. “Go worship in Xiacheng?”

“Yes.”

Chu Ruoyou didn’t look like she was joking. “Contact me when the time comes. I’ll host you and go with you.”

Yun Huizhi suppressed her delight. “When?”

“Before the exam, of course, provided you’ve studied hard. You can’t just rely on praying to Buddha.”

“I will!”

Yun Huizhi actually felt a surge of motivation. She was willing to take a grad school exam over this promise, to spend a few more years studying.

Why would Chu Ruoyou proactively arrange a future meeting?

Before, when she’d asked if they could meet for a meal in Xiacheng, Chu Ruoyou had acted like she didn’t plan on keeping in touch.

Was offering incense and praying to Buddha really this effective?

Yun Huizhi stroked the bracelet on her wrist, her heart trembling, both happy and panicked. She didn’t even understand why she was panicked—maybe she was afraid she was misunderstanding something.

But she didn’t dare ask, didn’t want to ask.

She would just go there when the time came.

They entered the Brook Inn. Little Zhang called out to Yun Huizhi: “Someone’s been waiting for you for a while.”

“Who?”

A woman with dusty-rose hair, dressed fashionably and a little too revealingly for the weather, walked over from the guest area. Yun Huizhi froze when she saw her. “Jiajia.”

Chu Ruoyou mentally repeated the name, suddenly connecting it to an English name.

The one who had messaged Yun Huizhi before, the one she had inadvertently seen.

Yun Huizhi became visibly uneasy and frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

Chu Ruoyou quietly released Yun Huizhi’s hand. Yun Huizhi didn’t notice.

“Who’s she?” the woman asked.

Yun Huizhi answered, “A new friend I met at the inn.”

Chu Ruoyou glanced at her, nodded, and said, “I’ll go upstairs to rest first. You two chat.”