Chapter 2: Xiao Zhen Is a Little Pig

Ji Zhenshi glanced at the notebook, then at Li Yunli’s obviously red-tipped nose. The usual gentleness in her eyes when looking at Li Yunli was gone.

The warmth on her lips seemed to linger still. Ji Zhenshi was so perceptive—had she truly not noticed that moment at all?

The air between them froze for an instant. Ji Zhenshi’s expression stiffened, and she awkwardly released the arm draped around Li Yunli’s neck.

Lowering her gaze dejectedly, she murmured an “Oh.”

A sudden thought struck her. “I just remembered—isn’t that the day my brother gets out of prison? So you’re heading off to pick him up?”

Li Yunli’s pupils contracted sharply at the abrupt question. The shift in Ji Zhenshi’s attitude nearly threw her off balance. She stared in disbelief at the girl’s suddenly pointed demeanor.

Had Ji Zhenshi assumed from the start that her refusal was because she was going to fetch Ji Tingjun?

Her fingertips curled involuntarily. Li Yunli even forgot to raise her hands and sign an explanation to Ji Zhenshi that she’d only been teasing her at first.

She hadn’t expected Ji Zhenshi to take it seriously, let alone bring up her brother so suddenly. The topic left Li Yunli reeling, unable to gather her thoughts for a long moment.

“Xiao Zhen, I wouldn’t have even known his release date if you hadn’t said anything,” Li Yunli replied. The words had struck a nerve, dimming her smile just a touch, but she still explained patiently.

Ji Zhenshi flashed a wicked grin, her face clouding over with inexplicable gloom. She jabbed a finger at the date circled in red on the cartoon calendar hanging on the wall. “Next Monday. Isn’t that what you marked on your calendar? And with how much Mom dotes on Ji Tingjun, she probably reminded you about it eight hundred years in advance to make sure you’re there on time.”

At first glance, Ji Zhenshi’s heart had leaped with joy. She hadn’t even mentioned it yet, and somehow Li Yunli already knew about her school celebration on Monday? That’s why she’d saved the news for last—she was confident Li Yunli would come. Back in high school, Li Yunli had always carved out time for her parent-teacher conferences.

Then she recalled her mother’s call a couple of days ago, specifically telling her to clear her schedule on Monday to pick up Ji Tingjun.

She had made it clear ages ago that she had an important performance that day…

Did even Li Yunli choose her brother over her?

The thought made Ji Zhenshi chuckle bitterly to herself. Li Yunli was Ji Tingjun’s fiancée, after all. Of course she would prioritize him.

“I have a restock scheduled that day, so I marked it to remind myself. It has nothing to do with your brother,” Li Yunli explained helplessly.

A young girl’s whims were like elusive vines, impossible to pin down. Li Yunli always struggled to navigate them, waiting until Ji Zhenshi had vented her temper before gently clarifying things.

When in a good mood, Ji Zhenshi shone like a little sun, warming everything around her. But when riled, she bristled with spines, leaving Li Yunli at a loss.

Ji Zhenshi crossed her arms and flopped gracelessly onto the bench, turning her back to Li Yunli. Her voice came out muffled. “So you’re ditching my school celebration to go pick up my brother with Mom and Dad?”

As long as Ji Zhenshi refused to look, Li Yunli couldn’t communicate via sign language or writing.

Silently, Li Yunli heated the food, portioned out the rice, then patted the sulking girl’s shoulder and slid the notebook in front of her.

—Eat up. I’ll definitely come watch your performance. I know how long you’ve prepared for this, and I’m really looking forward to your violin playing.

As for Ji Tingjun… Li Yunli frowned faintly, a quiet resolve forming in her mind.

“Really?” Ji Zhenshi pressed, seeking confirmation.

Li Yunli nodded and pulled her to her feet, offering the stubborn girl an easy out as she placed the full bowl of rice in her hands. “Enough fussing. Come eat. I’ll drive you back to school afterward—a girl shouldn’t take the bus at night; it’s not safe.”

It was as if they shared an unspoken pact, both deliberately glossing over that fleeting touch. Like a pebble tossed into the sea, it stirred only the faintest ripple.

The instant Ji Zhenshi heard Li Yunli would attend, her face lit up with delight. “I knew Sister A-Yun was the best! Be there on time—I’ve saved you the perfect seat!”

She leaned over the table, eyes gleaming at the steaming, aromatic dishes. She’d been dying to dig in but had stubbornly held out due to pride.

She swallowed hard. “Looks like I’m gonna stuff myself silly tonight.”

Li Yunli’s coffee skills were legendary, but her home cooking was even better. She could prepare a full table of colorful, fragrant dishes single-handedly, each one bursting with flavor.

And they were all Ji Zhenshi’s favorites, so she polished off three heaping bowls of rice without surprise.

Li Yunli watched the girl transform from storm clouds to sunshine in a heartbeat and smiled helplessly. She pulled out the chair opposite and sat down.

Unlike Ji Zhenshi’s enthusiastic shoveling, Li Yunli ate with measured grace. By the time Ji Zhenshi had downed several bowls, she was still delicately spooning rice into her mouth.

“I’m stuffed. You’ve totally ruined me for cafeteria food—it’s unbearable now, and I always leave half my plate,” Ji Zhenshi said, setting down her bowl and chopsticks. She rubbed her belly and slumped over the table, gazing at Li Yunli.

Li Yunli pitied how hard she practiced violin at school without decent meals, so she’d frequently cook her favorites to keep her nourished. Over time, it had spoiled Ji Zhenshi’s palate; the cafeteria slop tasted like chewing wax. Being away from Li Yunli also upset her stomach, leading to frequent aches.

Li Yunli poured her a glass of plain water and gently lifted her chin, motioning for her to sit up. “Have some water. Don’t lie down right after eating—it’s bad for digestion. Next time you crave something, just tell me ahead and come over. I’ll make it. Classes and rehearsals must be exhausting you. Skip the cafeteria if you hate it. Coming here is no trouble—just an extra set of chopsticks.”

She lived in the loft above the coffee shop, which she’d fitted with a cozy little kitchen perfect for simple home cooking.

Ji Zhenshi’s mind drifted, her head settling fully into Li Yunli’s palm, preventing any further signing. She squinted contentedly, like a well-fed kitten, her voice lazy and soft. “Okay.”

The girl’s pointed chin dug a little into her palm, the incidental skin contact sending a subtle tingle through her.

Li Yunli brushed her thumb across Ji Zhenshi’s cheek, signaling her to straighten up.

Understanding perfectly, Ji Zhenshi simply pivoted and laid her head directly in Li Yunli’s lap, using her thigh as a pillow before closing her eyes. “Why do I always get so sleepy after eating?”

Even though she’d napped all afternoon?

Li Yunli gazed down with a fond smile at the fluffy head nestled against her, signing gently. “That’s what little pigs do.”

Ji Zhenshi was her little pig—ready for sleep after a full belly.

Perhaps because her eyes were shut, Ji Zhenshi offered no response to the signs.

Used to it, Li Yunli withdrew her hands and reached for her chopsticks.

But in the next instant, a hand shot out from under the table, clamping down on her wrist. Ji Zhenshi’s mischievous giggle followed. “Don’t think you can badmouth me on the sly just because I’m not looking. Who’s the little pig?”

Ji Zhenshi was one of the rare left-handed violinists, so her left hand bore the marks of endless practice—veins prominent even at rest, radiating strength. Her right hand, by contrast, was slender and delicate. The difference was striking.

Right now, that powerful left hand held Li Yunli fast.

Li Yunli smiled serenely and mouthed the words. “Xiao Zhen is.”

“Oh, calling me a pig? That’s going too far!” Ji Zhenshi bolted upright, snatching both of Li Yunli’s hands with ease. She pouted in childish outrage. “You are!”

Ji Zhenshi was one of the few people Li Yunli could chat with so effortlessly. Normally sparing with words to avoid idle talk, even she indulged in silly debates with the girl.

“Whoever crashes out after dinner is the pig.”

“I’m seriously mad now.”

“Xiao Zhen sure has a short fuse.”

Li Yunli remained utterly unfazed by the girl’s big thunder and little rain. She calmly continued eating one-handed while Ji Zhenshi bristled like an angry kitten.

Seizing the moment, Ji Zhenshi snatched a ribbon from the packing supplies, swiftly bound Li Yunli’s hands, stuck out her tongue, and grabbed her backpack. “You have no idea how serious the consequences of pissing me off can be. Hope Store Manager Li finishes her meal before it gets cold.”

She only called her Store Manager Li when sulking.

With that, Ji Zhenshi shouldered her bag and dashed off, tossing a wave over her shoulder. “Gotta go rehearse! Lock up tight and get some rest.”

Li Yunli tugged at her bonds, desperate to call out that she’d drive her back. But Ji Zhenshi was already a streak vanishing into the distance, and with no voice to shout, Li Yunli could only watch helplessly.

She glanced down at her tied hands and curved her lips in a small smile, then bit through the simple knot with her teeth.

Rising, she approached the calendar and added a note beside the circled date in red pen.

—Xiao Zhen School Celebration

After a moment’s thought, she doodled a cartoon pig next to it.

Ji Zhenshi was a little pig, after all—nodding off after a hearty meal.

…………

Monday

Ji Zhenshi hummed a cheerful tune as she meandered near the school gate.

She wore a loose light-green blouse, the top two buttons undone to reveal delicate collarbones that accentuated her porcelain skin. Her golden locks cascaded freely down her back, the ends curling playfully, while her bright eyes darted hopefully toward the road.

She was waiting impatiently for that familiar figure to appear.

Li Yunli had promised to attend the school celebration today. It was still early, and Ji Zhenshi had her performance pieces down pat, so there was no rush to the backstage. Instead, she’d come to the gate to wait.

“Xiao Ji, don’t you have a spot in the show? Shouldn’t you be backstage prepping instead of hanging around here?”

Her friend’s voice pulled her attention. Ji Zhenshi scratched her head and grinned. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Nope, don’t have one. Don’t spread rumors.”

“Ohhh, I get it! You must be waiting for your sister-in-law, right?”

“You guys are so nosy…”

After the quick exchange, Ji Zhenshi checked her watch again. The agreed time had passed.

Li Yunli had a strong sense of punctuality and never kept people waiting deliberately.

Eyes narrowing with suspicion, Ji Zhenshi suddenly bolted toward the roadside and flagged down a taxi.

In the cab, she dialed Li Yunli, but the call cut off after two rings. Her texts vanished into the void.

“Li Yunli, your husband’s getting out today. As his wife-to-be, shouldn’t you go meet him? How many times have I called? We’re gonna be late—let’s move!”

“Fine, fine. I can’t read sign language—stop gesturing! Pack your things; you’re coming with me now.”

“I wonder if your muteness will pass to the kid. Eh, get pregnant first and worry later. If it’s hereditary, we can always terminate. Can’t let that sixty grand bride price go to waste. What are you spacing out for? Hurry up, close the shop—we’re short on time!”

Ji Zhenshi hadn’t even stepped inside when the familiar voice reached her ears.

Bossy and cutting as ever. Her face soured instantly, her steps faltering.

It was her mother, Yang Ying.

Ji Zhenshi balled her fists. The undisguised contempt, the talk of heirs—it ignited a nameless fury. The thin sheen of anxious sweat on her skin turned clammy against her back.

Always going on about that so-called sixty-thousand bride price, reducing Li Yunli to some purchased broodmare.

“So annoying,” Ji Zhenshi muttered under her breath, unfiltered.

She strode into the coffee shop. There stood Li Yunli in an apricot-colored long skirt, bag slung over her shoulder, ready to leave. But thanks to Yang Ying, her face was etched with anxiety as she rapidly signed explanations to the middle-aged woman before her.

“Mom, that’s enough! They’re not even married yet. Why do you keep yapping about her muteness passing to the baby? Don’t you think that’s humiliating?” Ji Zhenshi panted, gripping the doorframe as she shot Yang Ying a glare.

Li Yunli and Yang Ying both turned toward her. Ji Zhenshi walked over leisurely and planted herself in front of Li Yunli. “Ji Tingjun’s a grown man in his thirties. Coming out of prison isn’t like winning some big exam—does it really need the whole family rolling out the drums and gongs?”

She felt a tug on her hand and glanced back. It was Li Yunli.

“Xiao Zhen, don’t argue with Mom.”

Her signs were swift, and to ensure Ji Zhenshi caught them, she scribbled the same message on the notebook.

Ji Zhenshi’s eyes followed to the page. Above the new line was another:

—I won’t marry Ji Tingjun. On my father’s behalf, I’ll repay the sixty thousand from six years ago.

So that’s what Li Yunli had been telling Yang Ying. Her own arrival must have interrupted, preventing Yang Ying from seeing the note—and letting the usual barbs fly unchecked.

“I’m not arguing. I’m not some dumb seventeen-year-old kid. Fighting with Mom and Dad? No matter the outcome, I’m the one who’s wrong. Didn’t you promise to come to the school celebration? I’m about to miss it. Let’s go.” Without waiting, Ji Zhenshi grabbed Li Yunli’s hand and tugged her toward the door.

What rotten luck—her big day clashing with Ji Tingjun’s release. No surprise it stole her parents’ focus.

She’d long grown numb to it, didn’t care anymore. But today, Li Yunli had promised her celebration. Why was Yang Ying swooping in to “hand her over” to Ji Tingjun?