Chapter 87: Grasping at Straws in Panic

Zhao Chiyun’s cursing sounded so nice.

It carried an ancient charm soaked in the decadent luxury of a feudal dynasty, noble yet affectionate, like fluttering silk that then fell into Gan Xun’s hands.

Gan Xun wheedled her for more. “I love hearing it. Curse me a few more times.”

So brazen and shameless, Zhao Chiyun had no way to deal with her. She pursed her lips tight, unwilling to speak to her or make any more sounds that might provoke her.

Once the turmoil in her heart settled, Gan Xun lay with her on the same pillow.

Perhaps from the innocence after release, or the vulnerability after satisfaction, she asked, “Will you ever like someone else?”

The question was so foolish it was beyond saving, and Zhao Chiyun didn’t even have the energy to laugh.

After deep thought, she answered, “I can’t imagine what it would be like to fall for someone new.”

This answer, in a certain way, was more sincere than “I won’t.”

In this world, no one was older than Gan Xun.

Outside this world, Zhao Chiyun’s fate was inevitable; whether she loved or not, wished or not, didn’t matter. The Qinghe County Princess could only accept the decree and obey—no room for Gan Xun to intervene.

Osmanthus wine newly ripe, the moon bright through the gap in the tung tree.

Zhao Chiyun never had another chance to wear that troublemaking blue slip dress. The tail end of summer was completely severed as autumn chill swept south, soaking all of Mirror City in endless drizzling rain.

She held an umbrella and wore autumn high heels, blending into the crowd.

The rainwater on the roads fragmented her figure into pieces. She waited through a long red light and crossed the zebra crossing.

Book Garden had many more new students in the second half of the year—not all related to Zhao Chiyun, but with its reputation established, students naturally flocked in.

The Go class started as scheduled. Cui Can hired a teacher at great expense, who sparred with Zhao Chiyun and expressed surprise at her skill.

Zhao Chiyun had no dan certificate or competition records; she simply said her family elders loved Go, and she occasionally played with them.

With this recognition, she got her own small class, chosen voluntarily by students.

After Gan Xun turned permanent, she got a raise and, before Zhao Chiyun’s birthday, a hefty project bonus.

She hadn’t expected to spend a birthday with Zhao Chiyun.

After they officially started dating, Zhao Chiyun rarely expressed longing for her homeland anymore, burying those feelings deep.

Gan Xun appreciated her thoughtfulness. Her willingness to wait quietly for the day they returned was a form of love.

She asked Gan Xun if it snowed in Mirror City.

Gan Xun said it rarely did. Zhao Chiyun expressed regret and even made a wish to the sky for a big snow that winter.

Gan Xun quietly rejoiced inside. At least this showed Zhao Chiyun was willing to spend winter with her.

On a day off, she accompanied Zhao Chiyun to Book Garden. While Zhao Chiyun taught, Gan Xun shopped at a nearby mall for birthday gift ideas.

At the entrance of a clothing store, she spotted a familiar yet strange face on a modest poster.

Having landed a decent endorsement deal, her career must not be doing too badly.

That lingering sore spot she’d set aside finally gave her the courage to deal with it. It didn’t take courage because of pain or itch, but because facing rotten flesh made her afraid of feeling disgusted or upset.

First, she messaged the long-dormant account and found herself blocked. She laughed, unsurprised. Disgusting indeed.

She found the other’s Weibo, said nothing much, and sent a screenshot of the chat with the transfer record via private message, along with the lawyer’s contact info.

She entrusted the matter to Tang Sifeng.

The amount was enough for overnight riches by her standards—real money to buy a car with plenty left over, even enough for a down payment on a small apartment.

It was money her grandmother had specially saved for her, scrimped from daily life and clawed bit by bit from her unfilial son. To Gan Xun, still in school then, it had seemed an astronomical sum.

Looking back now, she’d lent it out purely in a lovesick haze, young and clueless without a steady job, thinking the sky was the limit.

She’d figured a few hundred thousand wasn’t much; she’d save it up in two or three years of work.

She knew the other came from a poor family with no connections, relying on herself to break into the industry where everything cost money, so Gan Xun had given freely.

Even after being ignored and sensing something wrong, she’d only felt disappointed. She guessed the other still needed the money and, even with a career upturn, couldn’t repay it easily—so she’d wait longer.

She told herself she couldn’t discard old ties just because feelings faded.

Maybe because her dad was such a scumbag, it made her hold herself to impossibly high standards during one-sided crushes.

But anyone who lent a large sum, only to get blocked, would call a lawyer.

Tang Sifeng handled the talks with the other’s company. Gan Xun let it go and didn’t tell Zhao Chiyun, planning to explain everything once the money was back.

The last thing she expected was Cen Xiangrui contacting her.

When the call came, Gan Xun didn’t think much, assuming it was work, and answered irritably.

Zhao Chiyun paused the movie and leaned against her. She heard the female voice from the phone say, “Gan Xun, it’s me.”

Gan Xun froze. Zhao Chiyun silently counted to three before Gan Xun moved, speaking unnaturally. “What do you want?”

Gan Xun swung her feet off the sofa, looking ready to take the call elsewhere. Instinct made Zhao Chiyun grab her arm.

She didn’t speak, just eyed her: right here.

Gan Xun’s face showed a flash of panic and guilt. She stayed, reluctantly. The voice on the other end said, “Got time lately? Let’s meet. It’s been so long.”

The voice came muffled through Gan Xun’s attempt to cover it up.

The tone suggested they were close, separated only by unavoidable circumstances, now catching up.

Zhao Chiyun watched Gan Xun’s face, scrutinizing every expression.

Sure enough, Gan Xun looked even more tense.

Like drinking a glass of hand-squeezed lemonade without syrup—the sour, bitter pulp exploding in her mouth, impossible to swallow.

Zhao Chiyun’s suspicions locked on one person. It had to be her. If not… if not, things were even worse.

Gan Xun couldn’t be that bad.

Composing herself, Gan Xun’s voice turned cold. “No need to meet. You’re a busy person. Anything to discuss, talk to my lawyer. You saw the number, right?”

Lawyer?

Foggy confusion mixed with displeasure in Zhao Chiyun, turning to curiosity.

“Gan Xun, things were tough for me lately, still are. Not as glamorous as you think. I don’t mean anything else. Maybe if we talk face-to-face, you can get what you want faster.”

Gan Xun hung up dismissively, no interest in more talk. Zhao Chiyun beat her to the punch. “What do you want from her?”

Gan Xun said, “Money. My money.”

Zhao Chiyun pieced it together quickly, leaning back casually on the sofa without decorum. “Just as I thought—your old moonlight crush.”

“Her name’s Cen Xiangrui.”

Gan Xun corrected her promptly, not wanting Zhao Chiyun to use any more flowery terms for an irrelevant person. She wanted no more ties to that type.

She even forgot to ask how Zhao Chiyun knew.

Zhao Chiyun went quiet for a beat at the eager introduction, an unnamed irritation crawling through her body, lingering at her heart.

“Fine, Cen Xiangrui.” She repeated it.

If Gan Xun weren’t so flustered, she’d have noticed how heavily Zhao Chiyun bit the words.

But she didn’t, too busy explaining. “Here’s what happened. Early last year, she borrowed money from me. Then she left Mirror City for work, got super busy, and we lost contact. This year, she stopped replying and even blocked me.”

“So a few days ago, I finally decided and asked Sifeng to negotiate, get the money back ASAP.”

During her explanation, Gan Xun noticed Zhao Chiyun’s face had gone completely expressionless, a storm brewing.

Her voice dropped softer. “So now she’s reaching out.”

Zhao Chiyun nodded after sorting it out. “So she took off with the money first and ghosted you.”

Gan Xun jumped in. “That’s how I realized what a shitty person she is.”

“So you were still messaging her this year? Even a few days ago?”

Not the point, Gan Xun stressed. “I was chasing the debt.”

“Chasing debt, or keeping in touch?”

Zhao Chiyun’s logic was sharp. “Maybe you couldn’t handle no replies, got mad and said you didn’t like her anymore. Then, blocked, you sicced a lawyer on her to scare her.”

Too good at inferring. Gan Xun nearly bit her tongue, half shocked, half pissed. “No way. Is that what you think of me?”

Of course not. Zhao Chiyun saw her frown, genuinely upset, and relaxed. If guilty, Gan Xun wouldn’t react like this. “Then why didn’t you tell me you lent her all that money?”

“…Yeah, I didn’t.”

Gan Xun caught on. “How’d you know it was her calling?”

“No walls are airtight. Don’t blame Cui Can. She thought we were of one mind, so she told me everything, assuming I knew.”

Zhao Chiyun gave a cold laugh. “Guess why she’s calling you out now—to pay up, or seduce you?”

Gan Xun said, “I don’t know her game. She said she’d pay if we met, so I’ll ask in person. You can come with me.”

That one line fully ignited Zhao Chiyun’s anger. “Enough. I won’t go meet your messy exes anymore.”

Gan Xun froze, realizing her poor wording, and backpedaled. “Okay, no meeting. I didn’t want to anyway. Let Tang Sifeng handle it.”

Then she apologized. “Sorry, cool off. I shouldn’t have hidden it. I just didn’t know how to bring it up, afraid it’d worry you or make you overthink. I planned to tell you after getting the money back, so it’d all be over.”

Zhao Chiyun stared at her a while. The coldness and anger in her eyes slowly faded, but she said nothing, got up, and went to the bedroom.

Gan Xun replayed it alone in the living room, feeling a bit wronged. Zhao Chiyun had jumped to suspicions without asking details.

She thought she’d held nothing back in their time together except this, and poured her heart into Zhao Chiyun. How’d it turn into this?

Must be her explanation sucked, confusing the ancient woman about modern crushes. They needed to talk more.

She brought in a cup of warm water, opened the door, and saw Zhao Chiyun sitting at the bedhead reading. Zhao Chiyun looked up first. “I spoke rashly earlier. Sorry. Since it’s about money, face-to-face is better. She offered, so if you don’t, it’ll just complicate things. Go. If she goes back on her word, have Sifeng step in.”

Gan Xun handed her the water, unsure if she was truly over it, and said honestly, “I don’t want to see her at all. Confronting for debt is hard for me.”

“Especially since you don’t like it, I definitely won’t go.”

“What, you think one meeting will reignite old flames?”

Gan Xun stood. “I’d have to be crazy to fall into the same pit twice. I saw her true colors long ago. You misunderstood—I didn’t chase the money out of spite from her ignoring me. Before, she had no fame; asking got me ‘no money, what’s the rush.’ I couldn’t do shit.”

“Then go meet her. If you’re doing it, do it cleanly and end it properly.”

Zhao Chiyun pulled her hand, making her sit. Her voice softened a bit as she lowered her eyes in self-reflection. “I wasn’t angry. I was just… grasping at straws in panic.”

Gan Xun found it illogical. “What are you panicking about?”

What did Zhao Chiyun have to panic over? Who could outmatch someone who could commit crimes with her beauty?

Fool. Zhao Chiyun gave her a look, lightly arrogant. “I have my own reasons to panic.”