Chapter 10: Confidentiality

The officer’s hand froze on the form, then she looked at Ji Huaqing for her reaction.

Under her gaze, Ji Huaqing lowered her head in embarrassment, a touch of unease in her drooping lashes. The officer also caught the reddening tips of her ears, smiled knowingly, and said, “That makes things much easier, then. But I need to tell you both something. When you meet old friends, don’t bring up the plane. It would cause panic. Just make up some excuse—a trip abroad, hiding out, anything.”

“This matter is confidential for now. Until we have a definitive answer, don’t let it slip. Causing social panic comes with legal consequences.”

The officer’s youthful face was stern and serious. “Understand?”

Gu Yining nodded. Ji Huaqing felt both unease and fear. Fortunately, Gu Yining held her hand, giving her a place to anchor in the vast ocean.

She was afraid, and she was grateful.

The officer tilted her head and asked Ji Huaqing, “Since someone has taken you out, we’ll handle the rest. You have no household registration now. Where will your household registration fall? Do you have property? You need household registration before you can get an ID card, understand?”

“Yes.” Ji Huaqing answered quickly.

Gu Yining smiled down at the floor, her amber eyes reflecting the tiles. At this moment, she wasn’t sure who was behaving better.

The officer looked at the bow-headed Gu Yining. “Miss Gu, where are you from?”

“I’m from Jing City—my household registration is in Jing City. But I can transfer a property under my name to her and have her registration moved there.” Gu Yining also put on her most obedient look, a flawless smile beneath her curling lashes. “I’ll cooperate fully. Whatever you say, I’ll do.”

The officer reminded her flatly, “She has no identification right now. How can she transfer property from you? I looked up her records. The property she used to be registered under is now in your name. First, get her registration sorted, then transfer the property, then move her registration in. Her identity is questionable right now, so we need to find her someone—like a guardian for a child, same principle. To avoid stirring things up in Jing City, you should move your registration here first, and we’ll register her directly.”

The fewer people who knew about this, the better. The officer gave the best arrangement.

Gu Yining hesitated for a moment.

The officer said, “It’s troublesome, I know, but it’s the ideal solution. How else would you explain it to the police station in Jing City? Unless she never gets registered. She’s very lucky—she’s the first one taken out. So solving her case comes first, then we can expand to the others. That’s the higher-ups’ decision for now. If you stall, and they change their minds…”

“I understand. I’ll drive back to Jing City tonight and get it done. I can come back tomorrow afternoon to settle the registration.” Gu Yining promised immediately. “But what about her? She can’t fly.”

“That’s your problem—I can’t help you with that.” The officer smiled politely. “You can drive. The round trip is easy enough.”

Gu Yining looked at Ji Huaqing. “Drive?”

Ji Huaqing nodded. Gu Yining pouted childishly. “Then let’s go. Right now. My mother will be scared half to death. And by the time we get back, Ningning will be out of school.”

Then she looked at the officer again. “Taking her with me is approved by you, right? It’s legal.”

“Fully legal.” The officer smiled gracefully. Still a little awed by their clasped hands—it had been ages since she’d seen such a pleasing couple.

Gu Yining pulled Ji Huaqing into the car and instructed Song Mingyao: “Drive me back to Jing City. We need to get to the police station early tomorrow morning.”

Song Mingyao didn’t ask why. She started the engine, then handed a tablet to Gu Yining. “Several things need your approval.”

Gu Yining glanced over them and gave answers one by one.

The car set off, taking the nearest entrance onto the highway.

The vehicle was small, the atmosphere cold. Ji Huaqing watched the buildings recede, her unease growing. She seemed to have become a child in need of care, carried along by Gu Yining’s side.

Gu Yining looked at the tablet, her eyes slightly dark, tinged with cold. Ji Huaqing turned to look at her—that delicate, pale profile entering her eyes, kindling a small flame at the tip of her heart.

As Gu Yining read the tablet, she picked up her phone and answered a call, holding it to her ear.

“Can’t make tonight. I’m going back to Jing City. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

An unhappy girl’s voice came through: “I’m already doing my makeup, and you’re standing me up. Gu Yining, heaven will get you for this. That’s too much.”

Gu Yining didn’t reply, hanging up coldly.

Then she made several more calls, her voice always icy—a completely different person from the one who’d acted cute in front of the officer.

Ji Huaqing’s gaze warmed. She remembered what Gu Yining had just said.

A student, also a girlfriend, possibly a wife in the future.

Ji Huaqing pressed her lips, lowered her lashes, and stole a glance at Gu Yining’s long, slender fingers, then nervously looked out the window.

The moment she turned her head, the fingers sliding across the screen paused. Gu Yining looked at her—face averted, pale, jaw tight, her silhouette pitiful and lonely.

Gu Yining smiled faintly, her gaze returning to the tablet, the corner of her mouth lifting.

“There’s a service area up ahead. Stop and eat—I’m hungry.” Gu Yining reminded, then shut down the tablet and told Song Mingyao, “I’ve settled all of it. Oh, right. Follow up on Zhou Hui’s sponsorship request.”

Zhou Hui’s school was a private institution with middle and high school divisions, famous for foreign languages. They hired native foreign teachers and competed with No. 1 High every year.

And Zhou Hui was generous, especially with top students. But their school was the hope of underachievers—those whose scores fell short could make up the gap with money.

But Zhou Hui wanted to make money, so she wanted Gu Yining to sponsor the school—after all, Ningning was going to attend.

Song Mingyao drove, sparing a moment of focus to ask, “Are we really sponsoring?”

“Mm. Just some desks and chairs.” Gu Yining reached up to rub her own shoulder, her gaze drifting left onto Ji Huaqing.

Ji Huaqing was looking at her, watching the subtle movement of her throat as she spoke. This cold posture, combined with a face of jade and frost, had shed its youthful greenness—like a figure of jade.

Their eyes collided for an instant. Ji Huaqing fled in panic, lowering her head to pretend to play with her phone.

Her stealthy glance had been caught. Gu Yining set the tablet on the front seat, leaned over to Ji Huaqing, and breathed softly: “Teacher Ji, our registrations are now combined. What should we call this new relationship?”

Their household registrations together—what kind of people were they?

Ji Huaqing couldn’t say. She thought it over and asked directly, “Are you asking me to give myself to you in gratitude?”

The car swerved. Gu Yining’s head thumped against Ji Huaqing’s chest. Song Mingyao immediately apologized: “Sister Gu, I’m sorry, I spaced out. It won’t happen again. Teacher Ji, please don’t drop bombshells; one sentence from you could kill all three of us.”

“Sorry.” Ji Huaqing’s face was red. She twisted her hands together, head bowed in apology.

Gu Yining, dizzy from the bump, rubbed her head, then looked at Ji Huaqing’s chest. “You… did you get hurt?”

Ji Huaqing turned aside to avoid her gaze. “I’m fine. You get some sleep. Stop talking.”

Gu Yining turned to face her, her face reddening as she obediently retreated. “Then I’ll sleep.”

She’d gotten no sleep the night before, and still she wasn’t sleepy. But she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds beside her.

Eyes closed for long enough, she unconsciously fell asleep. Fully relaxed, her breathing grew long and even. Song Mingyao watched in the mirror, then handed a neck pillow to Ji Huaqing. “Teacher Ji, unzip it and it’s a blanket.”

“Okay.” Ji Huaqing took it, studied it, found the zipper, and pulled it open.

The pillow opened out into a thin blanket. Ji Huaqing’s eyes shone with admiration. Smiling, she spread it out, turned, and covered Gu Yining with it.

Gu Yining slept badly. She’d kicked off blankets as a kid. When they slept together, Ji Huaqing would wake several times a night just to cover her back up.

The person before her was flawless now. At eighteen, Gu Yining had been green and impetuous, following her around like a child.

Now Gu Yining was like the bright moon in a dark night—unreachably high, icy cold, carrying her own proud bones.

The only thing unchanged was her domineering streak.

A student, also a girlfriend, possibly a wife in the future… Ji Huaqing smiled, let her gaze linger freely on that face, and felt her fear and anxiety dissolve.

What was there to fear?

She still had Gu Yining.

Having comforted herself, Ji Huaqing felt lighter in her chest. She reached out and tapped Gu Yining on the forehead, then withdrew her hand and looked out the window as if nothing had happened.

Song Mingyao, watching all this from the front, was stunned. Teacher Ji, what are you doing?

Playing with a little kid?

Gu Yining was asleep. When they passed the service area, they didn’t stop. Song Mingyao grabbed some bread for Ji Huaqing to stave off hunger.

After eight or nine hours straight, the sky was completely dark as the car slowly drove into a residential compound.

Gu Yining rubbed her forehead, opened her eyes, and followed out, still half-asleep. Ji Huaqing got out after her. The compound was beautiful, full of lush greenery, with a cool, pleasant night breeze.

Song Mingyao pulled a suitcase out of the trunk and pushed it over. “Sister Gu, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. Good work today. Go get some rest.” Gu Yining hummed, lowered her arm, and smiled at Song Mingyao, then took the suitcase. Her gaze slid toward Ji Huaqing. “Teacher Ji, let’s go.”

Perhaps because she’d slept a long time, there was a gentle smile on her face, no longer so cold.

The car had stopped outside an iron gate. Through its grille, the villa inside was bright with lights.

“My mother came out six years ago. She stays home now and rarely goes out.” Gu Yining lowered her voice, a slight curve at the corners of her mouth.

The words had barely landed when a little girl of seven or eight darted out from behind the iron gate—a blue princess dress—and flung herself into Gu Yining’s arms. “Mommy!”

That single word “Mommy” shattered their quiet world.