Chapter 30 Part 2

The old man sipped his tea, weighed his words, and finally said, “Your father told me. That girl from the Zhou family is back. Rest assured—if he tries anything again, this time I will stop him. And I will tell you.”

Ji Xiunian lowered her lashes. “I understand. Thank you.”

“One more thing…” The old man hesitated. “Your health—has it been well lately? Are you taking your medicine?”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Mm. You must take care of yourself. You’re not young anymore—don’t torment your body. Keep regular hours, keep your moods even. None of these wild swings, day after day.”

“I know. Rest assured.”

As the two of them spoke, the doorbell rang.

The housekeeper went to answer, finding Ji Changhong’s secretary at the door—nothing out of the ordinary. “Mr. Song.”

The old man clearly knew him too. “Little Song. Your father’s secretary.”

Ji Xiunian smiled faintly. “We’ve met. Secretary Song.”

Little Song smiled. “Good afternoon to you both. I’ve come to collect a document for Mr. Ji.”

Ji Xiunian nodded. “Mm, go ahead. Thank you for the trouble.”

“I met with Song Qi yesterday. He saw a document in Ji Changhong’s study and thinks Ji Changhong intends to hand that plot of land to Qichang Group.”

“Hm? Wasn’t it supposed to go to public bidding?”

“It was. But it’s looking like a done deal behind closed doors now.”

Zhou Lang smiled. “Ji Changhong is an interesting man. He looks obstinate and high-handed, yet on matters like these he’s extraordinarily careful—even his dirty tricks are the harmless, cosmetic kind.”

Xue Yining made a sound of assent. “I’m certain there’s something wrong here. We just haven’t found it yet.”

Zhou Lang rose. “All right. Keep up the pace with Song Qi. I’m going to Ning University this afternoon.”

“Langlang…”

“Hm?”

Xue Yining had used her pet name; the air between them shifted at once from superior and subordinate to something like family. “I think what you’re doing now is dangerous.”

Like walking along the edge of an abyss—one side the lover she couldn’t let go, the other the enemy who had destroyed her family.

Zhou Lang smiled as though the implication had flown right past her. “There’s a saying, isn’t there? Fortune favors the bold.”

A beloved was a treasure. Of course one sought her amid danger.

Hao Shuyou came down to receive Duan Jiaru personally. “President Duan, welcome.”

He had contacted the university’s Student Affairs Office and arranged a school-level forum, inviting her back to give an alumni lecture. The forum was high-profile—recorded in full, with certificates issued to boot.

It was face in abundance for Duan Jiaru; after all, the student exhibition would need her help with publicity down the line.

Duan Jiaru’s smile was gracious and composed. “No need for such formality, Dean Hao. Zhou Lang and I… are very close.”

“Mm, I know.” Hao Shuyou nodded along while privately finding it strange—by Zhou Lang’s account, she and Duan Jiaru weren’t actually that close, which was why she’d refused to serve as go-between and told him to contact Duan Jiaru directly.

Duan Jiaru checked the time. “Twenty minutes to go, is it?”

Hao Shuyou nodded. “That’s right. Let’s rest in the meeting room first.”

Duan Jiaru gathered her skirt hem, smiling elegantly. “Are the faculty of your college here as well?”

Hao Shuyou opened the meeting room door. “All of them.”

“Then—is Professor Ji Xiunian here too?”

“She is. President Duan, you know Professor Ji?”

“We’ve crossed paths a few times.” Duan Jiaru’s smile deepened—though in truth she had been turning this woman over in her mind for a long while.

She wanted, very badly, to see just what this woman had, to bewitch Zhou Lang so utterly that in all these years she hadn’t spared another person a single glance.

She sat. “Here’s the thing. We produce an entertainment program, and some time ago we felt Professor Ji had exactly the right image and presence—we hoped very much she’d appear. But when we extended the invitation, Professor Ji declined. I wonder, Dean Hao, whether you might ask her again on my behalf?”

Hao Shuyou agreed at once. “Of course. No problem.”

Whether Ji Xiunian said yes was no longer his concern.

Duan Jiaru checked the time again, then suddenly pressed her lips together in a smile that was almost playfully charming. “I’ll give Zhou Lang a call.”

Hao Shuyou was rather surprised, brows lifting, but asked nothing. “I’ll step out, then.”

As the door closed, he caught a long, drawn-out “Langlang~” from Duan Jiaru.

A tone of intimacy that defied description.

He shook his head. Something about it felt off.

“Dean Hao? What are you doing out here?”

Ji Xiunian had just finished class, a textbook still in hand.

“President Duan is on the phone with Zhou Lang, so I stepped out. Waiting for the lecture to start.”

“…Oh. It should be soon, then.”

“Mm. It was meant to end after a cup of water’s worth of pleasantries, but she wants to know whether Zhou Lang has arrived yet. From the look of it, she won’t start until Zhou Lang does.”

“Mm. I’ll head over first, then.”

Ji Xiunian’s gaze swept once across the meeting room door, then withdrew just as quickly.

“Go on,” Hao Shuyou said, waving a hand. “I’ll wait a bit longer.”

He had scarcely finished speaking to her when the meeting room door opened and Duan Jiaru emerged, her smile gracious and impeccable. “Dean Hao, who were you talking to just now?”

“A happy coincidence—it was the very Professor Ji we mentioned.”

“Is that so.” Duan Jiaru’s eyes lifted. “Zhou Lang says she’s arriving any minute. Shall we begin?”

“Good. Let’s go in, then.”

“No objections here.”

The equipment in the large lecture hall had all been tested and readied—computers, projectors, sound, and camera rigs in place. Duan Jiaru took the stage. She relished this feeling, standing at the center of every gaze, and smiled into the lights. “Hello, everyone. I’m Duan Jiaru.”

Applause rang out.

Ji Xiunian lowered her head to check the time. Three o’clock. Two hours until it ended.

She had originally sat in the third row, but Hao Shuyou had had the name placards arranged, placing her front-row center… directly beside Zhou Lang.

At this very moment, Zhou Lang gave a perfunctory clap and turned her head to speak to her. “Boring stuff. How do you plan to pass the time?”

Ji Xiunian asked flatly, “President Duan is speaking. Aren’t you listening?”

Zhou Lang: “What’s the fun in that? Isn’t it all just going through the motions?”

If she hadn’t known Ji Xiunian would be here today, she wouldn’t have come at all.

Though that clever girl Fang Xun had known to seat them together.

Ji Xiunian lowered her lashes and shifted toward the far side. “But I intend to listen. Please don’t disturb me.”

Zhou Lang froze.

Somehow, Ji Xiunian seemed strange today.

Listen or not, she certainly wasn’t going to.

Zhou Lang lowered her head—and saw that the hem of Ji Xiunian’s skirt had drifted onto her chair. She shifted position, deliberately pressing her leg down over the fabric, pinning it neatly in place.

A few minutes later, Ji Xiunian changed position and found she couldn’t quite move. She glanced down and said in a low voice, “Move over a little. You’re on my skirt.”

Zhou Lang sat perfectly still, attention fixed on the stage.

Her eyes, though, kept sneaking sideways.

“Zhou Lang?”

“…”

Ji Xiunian poked her elbow with the tip of her pen. “Zhou Lang!”

Only then did Zhou Lang turn her head, the picture of innocence. “Didn’t you tell me not to disturb you?”

Utterly shameless about it.

Ji Xiunian smoothed her lips flat and quietly gathered her skirt back.

But Zhou Lang turned her face toward her, the way she had countless times in class years ago, whispering to her in secret. “You were actually listening, just now?”

Her gaze had already dropped to Ji Xiunian’s notebook—on its pages, a breakdown of the movements of a dance, the handwriting clean and orderly.

She knew it. Ji Xiunian was still the same as ever, always sneaking in her own work on the sly. Back in school, every teacher had believed Ji Xiunian the most obedient of good students—when in fact she had filled her notebooks with her own sketches and notes every single time.

Ji Xiunian clapped a hand flat over the notebook, barring her view.

Zhou Lang didn’t disturb her again, and turned to skimming financial news.

But when the lecture ended, there was a small accident.

Duan Jiaru’s skirt hem caught on the base of one of the camera rigs. She eyed it with some distress, then looked to Zhou Lang, almost pleading.

Zhou Lang didn’t move from her seat. Hao Shuyou shot her a meaningful look—after all, it hardly befitted a man to help a woman with such a matter. Swallowing her impatience, she went up and freed the tangled hem.

When she turned back, the lecture hall seats were nearly empty.

Duan Jiaru said with a smile, “Thanks.”

“No trouble at all.” Zhou Lang’s mind was elsewhere; her gaze swept the room and found that Ji Xiunian had slipped away at some point.

Duan Jiaru took in her expression, still smiling. “Let me buy you dinner, then?”

Zhou Lang shook her head. “I have things to do. Aren’t you busy too? Dinner another time. My senior brother wants to treat you anyway, to thank you for lending a hand.”

Duan Jiaru smiled faintly. “Very well. I look forward to next time.”

Zhou Lang couldn’t be bothered to puzzle out what exactly she was looking forward to. She said her goodbyes and headed downstairs—just in time to run into Ji Xiunian walking along with Fang Xun at her side.

She called out to them. “Professor Ji?”

Fang Xun greeted her with a beaming smile. “Dean Zhou?”

Her mind was already racing through excuses to slip away first.

Zhou Lang made an acknowledging sound, then asked Ji Xiunian, “Professor Ji, leaving in such a hurry?”

Ji Xiunian: “Today’s lecture was boring. I didn’t want to waste any more time.”

Fang Xun: “…”

Professor Ji was always so gentle and serene—she never badmouthed anyone in private, never let anyone have it. Why did she seem like a different person today?

Zhou Lang was a little surprised too, but chimed in regardless. “Mm. It was pretty mediocre.”

Fang Xun was still gaping when the path curved and she spotted Cen Yao ahead. “I’ll leave you to it—Cen Yao’s just ahead. There’s something I need to tell her. You two talk.”

Zhou Lang wanted to laugh.

Were ten boxes of mooncakes enough of a bonus for Fang Xun next time?

The two of them walked along the small path—and ran straight into an awkward scene: a couple mid-quarrel.

From the sound of it, the boyfriend had cheated, caught by his girlfriend stroking another girl’s hair—and had the gall to claim the girl was his sister.

What a tired old excuse…

The girlfriend worked herself back into tears mid-sentence, and the boyfriend began coaxing her, gathering her into his arms.

Zhou Lang’s patience ran out. “Let’s take another route.”

Ji Xiunian gave a quiet nod.

She said nothing, so Zhou Lang had to carry the conversation herself.

“Professor Ji, where are you headed?”

“Dinner.”

“The faculty cafeteria? Shall we go together?”

“No need.”

Ji Xiunian stood at the crossroads, her shadow thin and lonely in the sunset. “I’m going home. You go eat on your own.”

She lowered her lashes, and just before turning away, spoke again. “Zhou Lang…”

Zhou Lang startled. “Hm?”

“I don’t care for messy personal entanglements.”

Zhou Lang made an acknowledging sound. “I know. Neither do I.”

She had always kept herself scrupulously clean—even when the need arose, she had taken care of it herself. She was practically a nun already.

The corner of Ji Xiunian’s mouth curved—a faint, fleeting smile, like melancholy, or like quiet loss. “Mm… that’s for the best.”