Chapter 82: Starting Anew

The opportunity to continue learning to ride a bike came one day after class, when she saw students arriving at the Book Garden on bikes. Zhao Chiyun sighed to Cui Can, “Last time I practiced for so long but still couldn’t learn it.”

Cui Can asked her, “Do you want to learn it, or is Gan Xun forcing you?”

Zhao Chiyun thought of the frustration from that day’s practice and didn’t speak at first. Then she recalled Gan Xun asking her who had taught her to ride horses.

She said, “Of course I want to.”

Horses were no longer a means of transportation, so horsemanship had lost its meaning. All the memories related to learning to ride horses had become redundant and useless.

She should learn to ride a bike in the modern world and master the skill Gan Xun taught her.

It might not be useful in the future at all, but she wanted to learn it now.

Cui Can acted decisively upon hearing this. “If you want to learn, that’s all that matters. Riding a bike is super simple. I’ll find you an easy one to try.”

Cui Can ran downstairs, chatted with someone for a bit, then called Zhao Chiyun down. She wheeled over a carefully selected bicycle and took her to the back street of the Book Garden.

It was that quiet street visible from the office window, with hardly anyone around.

Cui Can guided Zhao Chiyun from the beginning.

Like Gan Xun, she said riding a bike was something with no technical content—just get on with hands and feet and you could ride.

Zhao Chiyun was skeptical.

With her previous experience, this time things went more smoothly.

Cui Can didn’t hover over her the whole time like Gan Xun had, holding the bike steady. She only provided guidance from the side.

Without that support, in order not to fall, Zhao Chiyun became even more careful and focused.

With this effort, she soon managed to ride a short distance.

Seeing it was about right, Cui Can told her to rest. “That’s good enough. Ride more later to get a feel for the balance, and you’ll be fine. When I was little, my legs were short, so my parents got me a kid’s bike with training wheels. I barreled around and never fell—learned fast.”

Zhao Chiyun learned about “training wheels” for the first time. “Gan Xun said her bike was given to her by her sister, and she learned on her own.”

“I bet it hurt a lot when she fell.”

“With no one to help, she definitely fell. Kids can’t control themselves well.”

Cui Can’s expression faded a bit as she walked back alongside Zhao Chiyun, who was riding slowly.

“Her dad was like a robot, no emotions. After her mom broke up with him, she left Gan Xun behind and never came back. Her grandparents were okay to her, but one was always working and the other addicted to cards—they didn’t look after her. She had to figure it all out alone.”

After parking the bike, Cui Can said helplessly, “Gan Xun would have a tough time even if she were normal. Her whole family is pretty messed up.”

Zhao Chiyun felt as if a dull knife had sliced her heart twice. She said softly, “I will treat her better.”

Cui Can smiled sincerely. “You already treat her great. I can tell.”

Zhao Chiyun thought for a moment and said to herself that she could do even better.

“Keep this a secret for me.”

Cui Can chuckled. “Learning to ride a bike needs to be a secret?”

“I want to surprise Gan Xun.”

She had thought that when Gan Xun discovered she had learned, she would surely be delighted.

Unexpectedly, when Gan Xun saw the bike at home, she told her, “Not being part of the whole process of you learning to ride makes me a bit disappointed.”

Zhao Chiyun blinked, experiencing what it felt like to be hard to please. She told her, “I just couldn’t wait to buy a bike. My riding isn’t proficient yet—I still need someone with me to dare ride.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

After dinner, Gan Xun excitedly accompanied her for a lap around the neighborhood.

She discovered that Zhao Chiyun hadn’t exaggerated—she could only keep the bike upright and ride short stretches. She wasn’t proficient enough; she always got stuck at turns and had to stop to adjust after a short ride.

With experience from last time, Gan Xun knew Zhao Chiyun hated having onlookers, fearing embarrassment.

When someone passed by, stopped to watch, and tried to offer advice, Gan Xun would stare them down until they left.

If they didn’t leave, she would ask, “Enjoying the show? If you like this bike so much, I’ll reluctantly sell it to you.”

Zhao Chiyun sat elegantly and proudly on the seat. Once the person left awkwardly, she said to Gan Xun, “No amount of money—this bike was personally selected by this County Princess.”

Gan Xun laughed. “Just learned, and you reward yourself with such an expensive one.”

Zhao Chiyun huffed. “Are you complaining I spend too much?”

Gan Xun: “Of course not. It’s your own money.”

Zhao Chiyun: “Doesn’t sound like it.”

Gan Xun didn’t know what came over her in that moment—maybe to sincerely deny it, or maybe she was picking a fight.

She said, “I’m really not unhappy. Expensive has its perks—it’ll end up mine anyway.”

She even smiled, but Zhao Chiyun fell silent. She propped herself with one foot on the roadside, looking at Gan Xun on the nighttime path.

Gan Xun’s words were fine on the surface, but Zhao Chiyun’s heart prickled with dense pain. So these words sounded so bad.

But she could only say, “Yes, it’ll all be yours in the future.”

Gan Xun thought, what I want isn’t these things. On the surface, she smiled lightly and said thanks in advance for the rich lady’s gift of the bike.

During the long holiday, Zhao Chiyun was busier than Gan Xun. She led an adult calligraphy class and scheduled quite a few sessions over these days.

Zhao Chiyun had always been willing to teach—not because of any teacherly duty to impart knowledge, but because it was the fastest way for her to understand modern society.

Especially adult classes.

Though these big brothers and sisters, mostly older than her, knew little about calligraphy and had less aptitude than young children, they just wanted to cultivate their temperament and put on airs.

Some spent class time filming videos and taking photos, wrote terribly, and never practiced afterward.

Others came just for her, eyes wandering, talking nonsense, with zero interest in calligraphy or the brush in hand.

They were harder to handle than teen classes, but most enjoyed the lessons, and what Zhao Chiyun learned made it worthwhile.

The knowledge from Gan Xun and Cui Can was limited to certain areas. These varied students and parents were walking, living references.

Many things Gan Xun told her, she hadn’t fully believed because they were too close.

But once a few students corroborated them, she learned with peace of mind.

Gan Xun accompanied Zhao Chiyun to classes for three days and witnessed no fewer than five attempts by people asking for Zhao Chiyun’s contact info.

She thought that being Zhao Chiyun’s woman required a strong mentality.

She asked Zhao Chiyun if any of her pursuers were decent in various ways.

Zhao Chiyun replied carelessly and concisely, “None. None as good-looking as you.”

Gan Xun felt pleased but not satisfied. She hinted, “Just looks?”

She should praise other aspects too, to make her happy.

After thinking, Zhao Chiyun said seriously and troubled, “If we consider family background and lineage, it’s pointless—they’re all commoners. Even if some have more money, they’re just average. Worth looking at?”

The commoner Gan Xun felt dizzy.

On the fourth day of the holiday, when Zhao Chiyun had some free time, she said to Gan Xun, “I want to dye my hair.”

Gan Xun was startled. “How can you do that?”

Zhao Chiyun held a fruit platter, eating and chatting casually. “My student said black is dull. If I dye it another color, I’ll look much more vibrant. I think she has a point.”

“Which student?”

“A hairdresser. She’s married with kids but still takes classes in her spare time. She says she loves the immersion of writing.”

“Might be tricking you for sales quotas.”

Zhao Chiyun thought about it. “But I want to change my look anyway.”

Gan Xun reluctantly brought it up, though Zhao Chiyun might have forgotten. “If your hair color changes, it’ll be hard to handle when you return to the Mirror Country.”

Zhao Chiyun didn’t seem to have forgotten—she seemed prepared. “My hair grows fast. Plus, I don’t like flashy colors. A dark, conservative one will do. Even if I go back, it won’t cause a stir.”

She didn’t have the heart to tell Gan Xun that she’d already been gone for months. If she returned one day, forget hair—even missing an arm or leg wouldn’t seem strange.

Just going back would be enough. No one expected her to return pristine and dignified.

Seeing Gan Xun silent, just competing with her for fruit pieces from the platter, Zhao Chiyun reasoned with her. “Didn’t you say my leaving is like death? No point overthinking it. So why put it first in everything? Better to seize the day.”

“Modern hairdressing techniques interest me—why not?”

Gan Xun had never imagined Zhao Chiyun would interpret her words this way.

She knew Zhao Chiyun had a stubborn streak deep down. She should dissuade her, or else if Zhao Chiyun regretted it someday, she’d be the one blamed.

But after advising her and being called old-fashioned, she knew persuasion wouldn’t work.

Fortunately, Zhao Chiyun wasn’t impulsive. She did her homework first and chose a safe color.

Gan Xun relaxed.

Her relief vanished after they entered the shop.

Because Zhao Chiyun suddenly decided, seeing the promo images, to add a few strands of beige-gray highlights to the black tea base.

The hairdresser strongly approved and said waves would look even better.

Zhao Chiyun agreed boldly on the spot. “Then perm it too.”

Gan Xun interrupted, pulling Zhao Chiyun aside, and asked seriously if she really wanted to do it.

Zhao Chiyun countered, “Do you dislike me permed and dyed, or is it for my future?”

“Of course it’s for your future.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

Zhao Chiyun told her, “As long as you don’t hate my new look, it’s fine.”

Gan Xun certainly didn’t hate it, but she didn’t know what was going on with her.

During the afternoon in the salon, Gan Xun felt a sense of unreality. It was as if once the haircut was done, Zhao Chiyun’s return grew more distant from them.

She recalled the first time accompanying Zhao Chiyun to a salon, when her ink-black hair reached her waist, hard to wash, and she naturally didn’t want it cut—just a wash.

Now, Zhao Chiyun was developing her own tastes and enjoying modern hair techniques.

Gan Xun worried on one hand, feeling Zhao Chiyun was acting out because of the bike inheritance comment, which gave the impression she was hoping for her to leave?

At the same time, it brought security—the new hairstyle seemed a signal that Zhao Chiyun was considering a new life.

Starting anew.

By dusk, the hair was done. Zhao Chiyun stood before her, stunning in her fresh look.

Gan Xun paid first, then returned and asked caringly, “Sat so long—did your butt hurt?”

Ignoring her beauty for this line, Zhao Chiyun was speechless. “…Your words are awkward.”

“…”

Gan Xun said, “Don’t overthink it.”

Zhao Chiyun just asked, “Am I beautiful?”

The hairdresser knew her style and kept it conservative—no flashy vibes. She mixed the dye subtly, adding a few light gray strands at the ends.

The trimmed waves were fluffy and alluring, matching Zhao Chiyun’s gorgeous face. The vibe nearly overflowed.

Gan Xun wanted to leave quickly before expressing her admiration, as she vaguely noticed someone filming, eager to chat her up.

Gan Xun sighed deliberately. “Already beautiful as a fairy, now so trendy too. I need time to process—don’t even dare hold your hand.”

Zhao Chiyun insisted on holding hers as they walked into the night. She said to Gan Xun, “Will you be happy if I do my hair?”

“Too pretty—a mix of joy and worry.” Gan Xun smiled and told the truth.

“Not about looks.”

“Every day before leaving, I wanted to cherish time with you. I studied local knowledge and skills, worked and lived here, never wasting the present.”

“After that day, I’ve wanted to explain—I do want to go back, but I can’t bear leaving you. If I leave someday, I won’t be overjoyed; I’ll shed tears for you. So, will you be happy if I do my hair?”