Chapter 57: The Wind from the South

Mirror City’s night was deep and silent, spreading soundlessly over the entire area before being shattered into pieces by various glowing lights.

At the dinner table, Cui Can paused with her chopsticks and glanced at Zhao Chiyun.

She asked Gan Xun, who was busy picking out fish bones: “Don’t tell me she’s really talking to them.”

Gan Xun deftly placed the boneless fish meat into Zhao Chiyun’s bowl and guessed, “Maybe she’s talking bad about you. Who told you to pry into everything, top to bottom?”

Zhao Chiyun finished her conversation with the cats, straightened up, and retorted, “Not at all. In front of the boss, don’t ruin my reputation.”

She took a bite of the fish, then asked Cui Can, “What is a hot romance?”

Gan Xun looked up and saw Tang Sifeng’s expression flash with surprise beside Cui Can.

Cui Can said, “It’s a romantic relationship in the sweltering heat.”

Zhao Chiyun acted as if she suddenly understood.

The official response was, “Then we’ll ask again in the cold weather. Cold romance sounds weird.”

It wasn’t a yes, nor a no.

Cui Can said, “Cold romance sounds a bit abusive.”

Tang Sifeng finally realized they were messing around with abstract nonsense. She chuckled to herself, said nothing, and helped Cui Can pick up a shrimp.

After dinner, they cleaned up the table and kitchen together, then gathered around the coffee table to watch a disaster movie.

The sofa, newly replaced a month ago, was completely different from the old style.

To match the sofa, they laid down a rug in a similar color scheme. Everyone turned off the main lights and sat on the floor.

It felt like curling up and huddling close to others instinctively brought a sense of intimacy and safety—a discovery perhaps rooted in ancient times.

From the balcony, south to north: Cui Zihan, Zhao Chiyun, Gan Xun, Cui Can, Cui Zixuan, Tang Sifeng.

The four people and two cats let out constant gasps amid the movie’s ups and downs, offering hindsight commentary on the plot twists.

In the tense and desperate moments, Zhao Chiyun gripped Gan Xun tightly.

Gan Xun’s proudly sleek arms took quite a beating on the inside. Her cries weren’t from fear, but from pain.

Cui Zihan sometimes sprawled on the rug, sometimes jumped onto the sofa.

Or slept in Zhao Chiyun’s lap, or harassed Gan Xun, with her tail taking up half of Gan Xun’s body hair.

The protagonist group suffered heavy losses, and everyone shattered along with them.

Gan Xun shed silent tears, Cui Can sobbed openly, while the other four creatures stayed utterly quiet.

Fortunately, disaster movies always ended with hope, like fireflies left in the darkest night.

After it ended, everyone played with the cats or scrolled on their phones to calm down.

They swore, as usual, to love life.

While Tang Sifeng was in the bathroom, Gan Xun told Cui Can about Master Yi’s reply.

Cui Can, ever the carefree type, said, “That’s perfect then.”

That was how Gan Xun had comforted Zhao Chiyun too.

But deep down, she felt it wasn’t great. If the master was truly a master and not a charlatan, such words could be medicine or poison.

Like a doctor telling a critically ill patient they could be discharged soon—the uninformed wouldn’t know if it meant a quick recovery or no need for further treatment.

Gan Xun’s heart sank heavily. She hadn’t felt it much during dinner, but now that things had quieted down after the movie, it hit her.

She savored this night.

It was July’s night, the wind from the south.

People and cats alike seemed reasonably happy.

No matter what the future held, having this one night was worth remembering for everyone and every cat present.

She made a movie-ending summary in her mind.

She picked up Cui Zixuan, who had jumped over to play with his sister, and locked eyes with him. In her heart, she asked if he agreed.

Cui Zixuan looked around left and right before weakly meowing once, which probably meant yes.

After washing up, Gan Xun returned to the guest room and saw Zhao Chiyun steadfastly reading as always.

She unscrewed the water Tang Sifeng had prepared and placed it by Zhao Chiyun’s bed.

“Lawyer Tang is thoughtful, doesn’t talk much, good personality—pretty suitable for Cui Can.”

“I feel comfortable around her. Today during the movie, she sat there quietly, soothing Cui Can through her ups and downs, patting her back, letting her lean on her shoulder.”

“You don’t know, back when I came to Cui Can’s to watch movies, it was fine if Xu Yanyan wasn’t there, but when she was, she’d spout nonsense unrelated to the plot, all about her own stuff.

She’d insist on holding Cui Can in her arms, kissing her every other minute. It made me super awkward.”

Zhao Chiyun smiled mockingly. “Did you ever tell her she wasn’t suitable?”

“I did. That first year, every time they fought, I’d advise them to break up.”

“And later?”

“Didn’t anymore. Pointless. If people listened to advice, they’d still be living in caves.”

“So it’s always been like that.”

Zhao Chiyun shook her head with a laugh.

“What do you mean always?”

“I advised Big Sister to divorce her husband too. She couldn’t bear to, and ended up cursing me out instead.”

Zhao Chiyun laughed helplessly, yet nostalgically. “When I left, she injured her hand. I wonder if it’s healed by now.”

“Advising divorce is asking for trouble. Not just in ancient times—even modern people won’t listen.”

Gan Xun stroked her head.

Just as she lay down to unwind, Gan Xun saw a voice message from Gan Hua pop up.

Like a signal light, it instantly irritated her.

She said to Zhao Chiyun, who looked over at the sound, “Does Gan Hua have issues? Why a voice call out of nowhere?”

She hated people who called without asking first. Her old colleagues were all like that.

Zhao Chiyun frowned. “At this hour, maybe something urgent?”

“What urgent business could I have with him?”

Gan Xun wanted to hang up. For a long time, she had cut off contact with Gan Hua.

But recently, she’d used him to secure Zhao Chiyun’s identity, so she worried it was related and grudgingly answered despite her annoyance.

“What’s up?”

Gan Hua seemed to be at a noisy banquet. “The exam results should be out soon, right?”

Gan Xun thought back—that day had been brutally hot.

She’d said it was her exam day, and Zhao Chiyun had asked if she wanted to give it a shot, even offering to go with her.

Gan Xun had said, “Three hours, nowhere nearby to sit.”

Zhao Chiyun hadn’t hesitated, turning gracefully to say goodbye. “Then go by yourself.”

Gan Xun hadn’t wanted to go.

Zhao Chiyun had told her to follow her heart’s path, and light would come in the end.

Otherwise, resentment would build along the way.

Gan Xun didn’t plan to hide it. “Oh, I didn’t go.”

“What?”

“I never really studied. Taking it would’ve been pointless. I considered your suggestion and passed on it in the end—totally normal.”

Gan Xun added, “That’s not how you phrased it when guiding other young people.”

She hadn’t started considering it solely because of Gan Hua and her aunt’s nagging, but because she was exhausted and wanted peace.

It was like everyone had countless shores in life—swim to one, then eye the next.

She was good at exams and planned to pretend she’d listened to Gan Hua, maybe use it later.

As for his guidance, it wasn’t concern for her life—it was just to invalidate everything she did now.

He thought she was a failure wasting time, better to settle down and get married.

This kind of cost-free directing greatly satisfied some people’s performative urges.

Sure enough, Gan Hua didn’t care much.

He took a sip of his drink and sneered contemptuously, “If you don’t want to take the exam or work, what do you do all day?

“Rely on your face for meals from now on?”

Gan Xun went quiet for a moment, covering the phone tightly.

She habitually suppressed all emotions and calmly asked, “Are you asking because you care, to give me a safety net?”

Gan Hua laughed coldly. “You really love your fantasies.

“I’ve told you, my family assets have nothing to do with you. Drop dead with that thought.”

“Yeah, sure. I wasn’t planning on dirty money anyway. Just say what you want. Let’s see how grounded you are.”

Gan Xun had no interest in his trash talk, only in whether it related to Zhao Chiyun.

Gan Hua lost patience too and ordered directly, “I asked Shang Wen. He has no interest, but doesn’t mind meeting you.

“Next week, meet him again. Be more proactive.

“Since you won’t work, just behave and get married.”

“I’ve been busy lately.”

Next week, she was starting her job.

“He doesn’t mind, but I do. I don’t know your motives for matchmaking, but I doubt it’s for my good. Don’t mention this again, and don’t arrange anything.”

Gan Hua seemed to hurry to a quiet spot and exploded in rage, hurling curses.

Gan Xun listened numbly, planning to hang up. As long as it wasn’t about Zhao Chiyun, fine.

Though Gan Xun tried to cover it, Zhao Chiyun heard the gist.

She saw Gan Xun’s fingers gripping the phone white-knuckled, veins bulging on the back of her hand from the force, her face calm.

Zhao Chiyun reached over, took the phone, and caught Gan Hua mid-rant with filthy words accusing Gan Xun of being uneducated.

“Mr. Gan.”

Zhao Chiyun cut in coldly, interrupting him. “If a person has no father or mother, where does education or upbringing come from?”

Gan Hua apparently didn’t recognize or remember her.

Zhao Chiyun identified herself. “It’s me, Zhao Chiyun.”

Gan Hua sounded displeased. “Little Zhao, you were more polite at our last meeting.”

Zhao Chiyun laughed once. “When I first met Mr. Gan, I took you for a refined man. Didn’t expect your private speech to be so crude and sharp. Maliciously humiliating your daughter for selling her looks—you worthy of fatherhood?

“Give the phone back to Gan Xun. Our family matters are none of your business. I’m too lazy to dig deeper, but don’t forget your own background.”

Gan Xun snatched the phone back at that and warned, unable to hold back, “Gan Hua, if her background gets investigated, you won’t escape either. Don’t think I’m easy to bully. Then my background won’t stay hidden either.”

Gan Hua hung up.

Gan Xun blocked him on the spot.

Zhao Chiyun took her tightly gripped hand and rubbed it gently, asking softly, “Why does he treat you like this?”

“Because I’m an accident, and he’s just not a decent person.”

“Not just to me—he has no feelings for his parents or sister. Self-important, desperate to climb up, afraid we’ll dirty him.”

Gan Xun explained, not wanting her to think she was pitiful. She was fine, saw Gan Hua clearly.

“Then his insistence on setting you up seems suspicious.”

“Maybe he owes someone money.”

Gan Xun joked, laughing, when Zhao Chiyun suddenly cupped her face.

She smelled the faint new-book scent on Zhao Chiyun’s hands, her palms warm and smooth. Zhao Chiyun’s phoenix eyes gazed at her with near-great compassion.

Gan Xun didn’t feel pitied—only loved. Whether illusion or not, she no longer cared to distinguish.

She morbidly rejoiced that a disgusting call tonight let Zhao Chiyun cup her face like this for a while.

Naturally, they kissed.

Gan Xun tasted Zhao Chiyun’s sweet scent and gentle response, sinking uncontrollably, wishing to melt into her.

Pushed away breathless, Zhao Chiyun still said lingeringly, “Your expression cursing Gan Hua was so sexy. I wanted to kiss you right then.”

Her proud look, eyes with thin anger, voice gorgeously cold.

Zhao Chiyun looked slightly puzzled, not yet asking what “sexy” meant, when she kissed her again.

Perhaps because they were at Cui Can’s, as Gan Xun kissed her freely, Zhao Chiyun thought of the “big scenes” from her first visit.

And the used finger cots under the sofa.

Gan Xun’s slender pale fingers during the call.