The Golden-Edged Lily Bamboo stayed in Ji Ying’s hands for over ten minutes.
The old lady kindly instructed Sheng Shubai to water it less and rummaged around on the balcony before mixing a bag of nutrient fertilizer for her.
“The sunlight isn’t that strong this season. Put it on the balcony during the day to get some light, then bring it back inside the living room at night to avoid the cold,” she said.
Seeing how particularly anxious Sheng Shubai was about this plant, Ji Ying thoughtfully reassured her. “The roots are in good shape. Take good care of it for half a month, and it will perk right up.”
Half a month of getting up early and coming home on time.
Sheng Shubai lowered her head and noted the key points in her phone’s memo app. The thought of having to stick to a schedule like that for the next while made her headache throb even harder.
In the past, she could head straight to the bar after evening classes. Now, she would have to go home first.
She was truly tethered by this single Golden-Edged Lily Bamboo.
If it weren’t for the fact that it was… a gift from someone else, Sheng Shubai thought, she wouldn’t have had time to worry about how it was growing.
Remembering something, Sheng Shubai pulled out the care notes that Lu Jia had given her back then from her bag. “Grandma, could you take a look at this? Are the methods written here still suitable for its current condition?”
Ji Ying adjusted her glasses and squinted at it. “This girl’s handwriting is quite nice.”
Having been a teacher for decades, her first impression of people often came from their handwriting.
It was neat and elegant, each stroke serious and deliberate—clearly written by a girl. The content used only black and red pens for annotations, but they were sparse and well-organized, with key points clearly distinguished.
She hadn’t even read a few lines before Ji Ying felt a spark of appreciation. Glancing further down, she noticed another handwriting style suddenly appearing.
Bold and vigorous strokes, yet cramped timidly into the blank spaces of the page, as if afraid to disrupt the original notes.
“It’s pretty good. Just adjust the fertilization timing in a few places, and there won’t be any issues.”
Ji Ying naturally recognized Sheng Shubai’s handwriting and smiled as she asked, “Who gave you these notes?”
Someone who took such careful care must have a special relationship.
She had known Sheng Shubai for a few years now. With her own granddaughter settled down, this girl Sheng was still single. Who knew when she would find someone who cared for her warmth and cold.
Girls were good like that—attentive and caring.
Sheng Shubai pursed her lips but still answered, “My neighbor. She gave me this plant too.”
Sheng Shubai had come all the way here instead of asking the neighbor—perhaps she thought the neighbor hadn’t been taking good care of it and felt too awkward to ask?
Ji Ying saw through it all like a clear mirror but didn’t say more.
At her age, it wouldn’t do to pry further and annoy the younger generation.
When Sheng Shubai carried the potted plant out, thanking her and saying goodbye, Ji Ying waved cheerfully.
How could she not guess? The plant had solid roots—likely nurtured by that neighbor.
–
Over a month passed in a flash, and winter had fully set in.
New Year’s Day approached in the blink of an eye.
The piece Lu Jia had submitted earlier for the exhibition had taken a long time to prepare. Once it was selected, she made a special trip to the exhibition site, accompanied by Rong Yi.
It was one of the pieces she was especially satisfied with this year.
In the past, she had mostly gone to see exhibitions outside. She had submitted to a few during undergrad, but this was the first time one of her works made it into an exhibition of this caliber.
Lu Jia looked left and right, her usually steady personality unable to contain her excitement.
At the exhibition, she met quite a few seniors. When Rong Yi introduced her, several smiled warmly at her. “You’re the student who was with Professor Sheng last time, right?”
There was no helping it—the printmaking circle wasn’t that big.
There were only so many notable figures, and last time in Z City, Sheng Shubai had already introduced her to many.
Rong Yi smiled on the surface, but back at the hotel, she pulled Lu Jia aside for a heartfelt lecture, advising her to keep her distance from Sheng Shubai in the future.
She admitted that her colleague had been extremely dedicated to Lu Jia, but this was her student, Rong Yi’s—not Sheng Shubai’s.
Moreover, that woman wasn’t one to be trifled with.
Her sister had run into Sheng Shubai recently, and her interest seemed to be stirring again. Rong Yi held back repeatedly, then shipped her back to S City right after her birthday.
Though Rong Yi knew full well that even if she kept Lu Jia away from Sheng Shubai, the Sheng Family in Z City had long since set their sights on poaching her student.
The busy President Sheng had even approached her not long ago to inquire if she wanted to bring Lu Jia to see an upcoming exhibition in Z City.
Lu Jia had been rushing to finish this piece at the time, so she had politely declined Sheng Shuyun’s offer.
Rong Yi sighed inwardly.
Having such an outstanding student was like this—after just half a year under her, so many people had taken notice. This exhibition was high-level; she had only told Lu Jia to submit as a trial, but it ended up being the only provincial entry selected.
Lu Jia didn’t notice her mentor’s complicated expression and gave the same response as before, agreeing obediently.
But this time, she agreed much more readily.
After all, she was now… quite distant from Sheng Shubai, no longer paying lip service while acting otherwise.
Hearing Rong Yi hesitate as if wanting to say more, Lu Jia held back.
Sheng Shubai didn’t want to tell Rong Yi about what had happened back then, so she couldn’t presume to do so.
The exhibition lasted over ten days, but Lu Jia only stayed three, gaining much from it.
Back in C City, she immediately started preparing new work for the Qinghui Cup in early spring after the New Year.
The Qinghui Cup required smaller canvas sizes than most domestic competitions, making concept and details especially crucial.
Lu Jia holed up in her studio for days. No matter if it was Shen Zhiwei or anyone else knocking, she didn’t answer.
When searching for inspiration and settling on a theme, she still preferred sketching on paper.
The wastebasket filled up who knew how many times, but each new sheet of sketch paper started from scratch, scrapping everything she’d drawn before.
When she finally snapped out of it, one of her professional instructors assigned a new task requiring a submission.
She roughly sorted her jumbled thoughts, finished the line draft, but was distracted while carving the plate.
So, unsurprisingly, she hurt her hand again.
This time, it was her right hand’s middle finger.
She hadn’t gripped the carving knife steadily, and as it fell, fearing it would damage the blade, she instinctively grabbed for it—right on the tip, slicing into the pad of her finger. Blood beaded up quickly, large drops welling from the wound.
Her first thought was: Good thing it’s the middle finger; it won’t affect my grip too much.
The studio had a small first-aid kit, prepared by Sheng Shubai earlier.
Besides the leftover gauze and iodine from that time, the woman had stocked common medications—even a thermometer.
When Lu Jia first learned printmaking, she hurt herself sometimes.
Back then, it was usually her left hand positioned wrong, nicked by the out-of-control carving knife. Handling it with just her right hand wasn’t hard.
But now with her right hand injured, she only had her left. Fortunately, she had experience from last time.
The blood hadn’t stopped, and the wound was long and deep. She simply wrapped it with tissue to prevent drips.
Lu Jia pulled out a length of gauze. When her other arm bumped something reaching for the small scissors, the roll tumbled off the table, unrolling as it rolled across the floor—ruined.
Her expression calm, she bent down, picked it up from the ground, and tossed it into the nearby trash bin.
The tissue wrapped around the wound—three layers thick—was already soaked through. A light press with her thumb pad left a smear of crimson blood.
It was Sunday afternoon, and the College Building was nearly deserted.
Without much hope, Lu Jia messaged her mentor asking if she was in her office.
After sending it, she grabbed more tissues to replace the soiled ones, folding them thicker this time.
Two minutes passed with no reply from Rong Yi—Lu Jia wasn’t surprised.
Outside, heavy rain poured, and who knew when the delivery rider would arrive.
The estimated delivery was forty minutes out; by then, the bleeding would have stopped anyway. Wrapping it was just for riding later.
Rain made taxis hard to get, and the distance from the College Building to the school gate wasn’t short. By the time she reached the parking spot at the gate, she’d be as soaked as if she’d ridden home.
She was about to cancel the app when a message popped up.
“Be there soon.”
It was from Sheng Shubai.
–
City Art Association, Third Lecture Hall.
The membership conference filled the seats below the stage with professors from various academies of fine arts.
Rong Yi hadn’t checked her messages amid the event.
Only after the onstage speech ended did she glance at it, immediately planning to message her other students.
She still had to give her own speech next and couldn’t get away.
Otherwise, sending another student out on a bike in this downpour wouldn’t be right.
Rong Yi was still scrolling through her contacts when the person beside her spoke up.
Sheng Shubai kept her voice low. “Professor Rong rarely gets distracted like this.”
She wasn’t idly looking for chit-chat with Rong Yi.
She had accidentally glimpsed the other’s screen earlier—the chat with Lu Jia’s avatar was too conspicuous—so she just commented.
Rong Yi replied flatly, “Lu Jia hurt her hand. She asked if I have gauze in my office.”
Sheng Shubai turned to look at her.
Rong Yi continued, “I do, but the door’s locked, and Lu Jia doesn’t have a key.”
She preferred traditional mechanical locks over fingerprint or code ones for her office and studio.
The City Art Association was close to C University—a few minutes by car.
When Sheng Shubai took the spare key Rong Yi had handed her separately and saw the front windshield blurred by relentless sheets of rain, scraped clear in patches by the wipers to reveal the gray clouds ahead.
She didn’t know why she had offered to deliver the key on impulse.
No—it was Rong Yi who needed her help.
The woman had a speech and couldn’t leave, so she asked Sheng Shubai, who rarely attended these meetings, to slip out early.
Sheng Shubai hadn’t planned to come today at all. If not for a dinner with a professor from the neighboring school afterward, she could have slept in longer.
She wasn’t sure if she’d make it back in time.
Driving at the city speed limit through the rain, she entered C University.
With high beams on in the storm, she spotted a figure at the College Building entrance from afar.
Through the rain curtain, she couldn’t make it out clearly, but Sheng Shubai had a vague intuition—it might be Lu Jia waiting for her.
The car pulled up right at the steps, and she could now see the girl under the porte-cochere.
No need for an umbrella for those few steps.
Sheng Shubai casually shut the car door and climbed the steps. Her gaze already lingered on Lu Jia’s hand, spotting the tissue-wrapped wound stained red.
The right hand again—this time the middle finger.
“It’s fine, won’t affect it.”
Lu Jia noticed the woman’s stare and downplayed the injury. “When gripping the carving knife normally, the middle finger just assists on the side without much force.”
Stifled by the girl’s nonchalant attitude, Sheng Shubai swallowed what she had been about to say.
Even if it didn’t affect her work, it had nothing to do with Sheng Shubai.
Anyway, it wouldn’t be her using that hand in the future—the one who should worry was Lu Jia’s eventual girlfriend.
