Donglai Cemetery was one of the best cemeteries in Hang City in recent years, and its location was excellent.
Song Mingyao went to park, and the two waited in the shade of the trees. Few people came to the cemetery at this hour, and the heat was unbearable. They stood for a few minutes without seeing anyone.
Song Mingyao returned quickly, holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums. Gu Yining took them. “Find a comfortable place to wait. Book somewhere to eat.”
“Got it.” Song Mingyao nodded and adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses, looking utterly refined.
Ji Huaqing glanced at her, and somehow felt that gesture gave off a “refined scoundrel” vibe. But she was clean, pale-skinned; no need for wild imaginings.
Song Mingyao felt Teacher Ji’s gaze, smiled at her, and said, “Teacher Ji, you’re really gentle, and very pretty.”
Twenty-eight, at the peak of her bloom.
Then Ji Huaqing replied, “You should switch to different glasses.”
“Why?” The smile on Song Mingyao’s face instantly froze. “Do these frames not suit me?”
“They suit you well, and they look good on you. They just give people a sense of…” Ji Huaqing paused, weighing her words. Suddenly, Gu Yining turned back to look at her: “A refined scoundrel?”
Ji Huaqing pressed her lips together, her expression relaxing. It was Gu Yining who said it; she was Song Mingyao’s boss. Nothing to do with her.
“Refined scoundrel—though it’s not exactly a compliment, it does require a certain level of good looks. I’ll take it as a praise from the two of you.” Song Mingyao pushed up her glasses again, looking positively scholarly. “You two may go on ahead.”
Ji Huaqing couldn’t help laughing. She was never a rigid person. “You’re adorable.”
“Teacher Ji, you said I’m adorable?” Song Mingyao was astonished. “Sister Gu calls me a refined scoundrel every day, but you used the word ‘adorable.’ You’re so good to me.”
Gu Yining walked over to the two of them, her delicate profile blocking Ji Huaqing’s view. Sunlight fell across her face like a piece of jade soaked in spring water.
She blocked Ji Huaqing’s line of sight. Ji Huaqing studied the face bathed in light.
“She treats you like a junior, the way your own mother would look at you—of course she thinks you’re adorable.” Gu Yining stood between them, glaring coldly at Song Mingyao. “Aren’t you leaving yet?”
Song Mingyao, startled by her boss’s glare, turned and fled. She’d only said one word of praise—why did she have to throw a tantrum?
So stingy.
Gu Yining held the flowers and walked briskly toward the cemetery in flat shoes. The cemetery had water and green grass, like a landscape of green mountains and clear streams.
Ji Huaqing followed her silently, observing the surroundings and guessing the plots here weren’t cheap.
“Did you arrange this?”
“Yes. I arranged it. Teacher Ji, remember to pay me back. If you were dead, I could count it as honoring my late teacher. But since you’re alive, it’s not my place to honor you that way, so you owe me the money.” The corner of Gu Yining’s mouth turned up. “Unless we get married—then I’d be honoring an elder of the family.”
At the word “married,” Ji Huaqing twisted her ankle and yelped in pain. Gu Yining, ahead of her, stopped in time and grabbed her wrist before turning around.
Her hand was very cold. Ji Huaqing shivered.
Gu Yining’s hand slowly moved up to Ji Huaqing’s arm. She bent down. “Can you walk?”
“I’m fine, it just hurt for a second.” Ji Huaqing was still shaken, letting Gu Yining support her, her heart nearly leaping into her throat. Married? Were two women allowed to marry now?
She didn’t ask. With the rapid pace of economic development, anything was possible. Asking would just make her look naive.
A breeze from across the lake lifted Gu Yining’s loose hair, giving half her face a cold tint. She straightened, let go of Ji Huaqing, and told her, “In some places, same-sex marriage is already legal, Teacher Ji.”
Sure enough—already legal. Ji Huaqing blushed with shame. Fortunately, Gu Yining didn’t continue the topic.
Gu Yining’s phone rang. She answered. It was the registration officer from last night. “Hello, Miss Gu.”
“Hello, what’s the matter?” Her brows drew down a little as she listened.
“How can I help you?” Gu Yining asked.
“I need you to come to the station—when would be convenient?” said the officer.
Gu Yining said, “This afternoon. I’m at Donglai Cemetery. Can I make it to the station hall before two?”
“Alright. I’ll wait for you.”
Gu Yining hung up and quickened her pace, telling Ji Huaqing nothing of the call’s subject.
She stopped in front of the gravestone. Ji Huaqing looked over and saw her parents’ photos—they were buried together.
In that instant, Ji Huaqing’s tears fell. Gu Yining said, “They passed five years ago. Your brother was inside at the time, so I handled their funeral. They were devoted to each other all their lives. Uncle went first; a week later, Auntie never woke up. So I buried them together. Back then, Teacher Zhou and the others all came.”
“They worried about you constantly, always hoping for a miracle. When the miracle came, they were already gone. You being alive is the thing that would have made them happiest. Rest assured, they left with dignity. Though their children weren’t by their side, many people attended the funeral.”
“Your classmates came, your colleagues came, even some of the leaders from No. 1 High. At Qingming and the winter solstice, Zhou Hui and the others come by. All year round, people visit them. It’s no worse than when you were here.”
A simple speech, without any self-aggrandizement. Gu Yining only wanted to tell Ji Huaqing that her parents had passed with dignity. Whether their daughter was there or not, they were honored.
A dignified funeral for her parents—that was what every child wished for. The last trace a person leaves in this world should be glorious.
Ji Huaqing knelt, her fingertips tracing her parents’ photos, tears streaming freely. Meanwhile, Gu Yining picked up another call and walked a few steps away, her voice cold: “What is it?”
“Your daughter’s at it again—she got into a fight.” Mother Gu sighed. “You refuse to marry, and then you bring home this little menace. What are you thinking?”
Gu Yining wasn’t angry. The corner of her mouth curled. “Go to the school and sort it out—apologize where apologies are due, pay where payment is due. I’ll handle the rest when I get back. Kids fight; adults must stay rational and not get dragged into a child’s mess. When you get back, don’t scold her. I’ll talk to her when I return.”
“When are you coming back? The anniversary has passed. Listen, you’re thirty years old…”
“I know. I have things to do.”
Gu Yining hurriedly hung up and smiled faintly—a rare smile on her fair face. Fighting?
It depended on why.
She opened WeChat and found Ji Ningning’s contact. She typed: When you see this, tell me why you fought.
They stayed at the cemetery for over an hour. Ji Huaqing’s eyes were swollen. Gu Yining stared at her face and asked, “Your grave is up ahead. Want to take a look?”
“No. I’m afraid I’ll have nightmares.” Ji Huaqing stood up, the corners of her eyes flushed an unusual red, a hint of pitifulness about her.
Her feet had gone numb; she stood in place without moving. Her stubborn profile was like fine porcelain—beautiful, yet fragile, needing to be cared for.
Gu Yining looked at her. She looked back, embarrassed. Gu Yining blinked. “Teacher Ji, are you shy?”
Ji Huaqing deliberately ignored that teasing. Gu Yining pressed her lips together, a wild smile in her eyes, and reached out her hand. “Come, Teacher Ji. I’ll carry you.”
“No.” Ji Huaqing refused coldly.
Gu Yining arched an eyebrow, pleased with herself. “In your parents’ final years, I introduced myself as your wife. When people asked whose funeral I was arranging, I said my dad’s and my mom’s.”
Those words shoved Ji Huaqing into the sea; a wave crashed over her, nearly knocking her senseless. Then Gu Yining walked over and wrapped an arm around her waist.
In broad daylight, in a cemetery—Ji Huaqing felt as if struck by lightning. She tried to push Gu Yining away, but Gu Yining said, “Your mother knew about our relationship. I told her I was your girlfriend.”
“She wouldn’t have believed it.” Ji Huaqing’s face burned, the shame growing. She looked down at her parents’ photo, her lips pressing together again and again. Finally, she said, “And even if she did, so what?”
“She did believe it.” Gu Yining laughed softly—a cold laugh, not entirely sincere. She released Ji Huaqing. “Let your mother see me holding your waist, so she’ll know I wasn’t lying. I really am your girlfriend.”
The brief intimacy was like a gust of wind, brushing against Ji Huaqing’s heart. Gu Yining resumed her usual languid, cool expression and turned away. “Let’s go eat. I’m going to the police station this afternoon. When the registration officer asks what our relationship is, what should I say?”
“Girlfriend?”
“Fiancée?”
Dizzy from that barrage of words, Ji Huaqing felt she was lagging far behind the times—she hadn’t even been off the plane for twenty-four hours.
Still, she silently followed Gu Yining, clinging to this lifeline.
They got into the car, and the cool air made Ji Huaqing feel much better. A laptop appeared from somewhere—ultra-thin, sleek. Gu Yining’s slender, jade-like fingers flew over the keyboard, a beautiful sight.
So thin, so compact, so practical. Ji Huaqing fell in love with it at first sight.
This time, Gu Yining had no time for Ji Huaqing. She instructed Song Mingyao, “I’m going to the police station at two. I’ll take a cab there myself. Take Teacher Ji back. Also, I have plans with Pei Yirou tonight…”
She paused, looking at Ji Huaqing. “Want to come, Teacher?”
Ji Huaqing shook her head. She didn’t want to see anyone. The huge mystery had her trapped; all she wanted right now was to hide.
Gu Yining looked at her seriously. “I’ll be drinking tonight. Don’t you want to keep an eye on me?”
Those too-direct words plunged Ji Huaqing back into confusion.
While she hesitated, Gu Yining took another call—the officer again, saying, “Come now, if you can.”
Gu Yining said okay, hung up, and said, “To the police station.”
They hurried to the station. There were still many people in the hall, crying and arguing, all in various states. Less than twelve hours had passed since last night, and many were still stranded in the hallway.
As they walked back in, seeing the crowd, Gu Yining suddenly reached out and took Ji Huaqing’s hand.
Ji Huaqing trembled, looking down at that hand. The officer’s voice echoed in her ears: “You’re Ji Huaqing’s student, right?”
“Sort of.”
The officer frowned. “What do you mean, ‘sort of’? Last night, when you came to pick her up, you were mighty confident.”
Gu Yining gave her most proper smile and said to the officer, “A student. Also a girlfriend. And possibly a wife in the future.”
