Chapter 34: She Fled

A faint, ethereal voice, as light as Li Yunli’s breathing, weighed down on her like a thousand pounds.

Ji Zhenshi lay sprawled in front of Li Yunli. Emboldened by the fact that Li Yunli appeared to be asleep, she let her own voice melt indistinguishably into that shallow rhythm of breath.

The love she had suppressed for so long erupted without any warning.

What’s done can’t be undone. Ji Zhenshi, did you really never consider regretting it?

“It started long, long ago, Sister A-Yun. I’m despicable, aren’t I?”

“So, I’m a wicked person who defies all human ethics.”

Indeed, once it began, nothing could return to how it once was.

Ji Zhenshi was a greedy soul. How could she be content with such cautious restraint?

The secret thrill made her grit her teeth. She missed the way Li Yunli’s lashes trembled and overlooked the hands clenching almost into fists.

In this moment, every justification felt utterly hollow.

It turned out that Ji Zhenshi’s feelings had long since soured into something else entirely. That piece of music had truly been a confession of love. The young girl whom Li Yunli had watched grow into maturity harbored this secret for her.

All those times she had stepped forward without hesitation to stand by Li Yunli’s side—it wasn’t mere reciprocity of kindness. It was an affection too profound to voice aloud.

Li Yunli didn’t even dare imagine how long this “long, long ago” truly stretched back.

She curled her fingertips tightly. The lingering aftertaste of that kiss overwhelmed her, leaving her at a loss. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes and face Ji Zhenshi in this instant.

What should she say?

Ji Zhenshi’s kiss had made her intentions so blatantly clear. Suddenly, Li Yunli recalled how both Xia Siyuan and Ji Zhenshi had asked her that day what she thought of the piece.

So, they had both known it was a love confession, while she had naively assumed Ji Zhenshi was simply showing off her skills.

“Sister A-Yun, you’re awake?” Ji Zhenshi noticed the trembling of those lashes. She froze for a long moment before stiffly forcing out the words, confirming she wasn’t imagining it.

Guilty pangs twisted in her chest, and she unconsciously licked her lips. There was anticipation there too, perhaps.

What would Li Yunli say? Would she scold her for being shameless, or accept it willingly?

By now, Ji Zhenshi had cast aside the shock of being caught. She had even forgotten all her prior hesitations. She focused solely on Li Yunli’s reaction.

After a long silence, Li Yunli only lowered her gaze and blinked. Then, in sign language, she told her, “You’re back—go wash your hands and get ready to eat. The food’s almost cold.”

Her smile was forced, lacking its usual gentle warmth.

“…”

“When did you wake up? Did I disturb you?” Ji Zhenshi gazed at Li Yunli with anxious unease. Reluctantly, she searched her face for any other emotion, but found none.

That kiss might as well never have happened. It left no trace on Li Yunli’s expression.

It wasn’t just the food that had gone cold. The tempest raging in Ji Zhenshi’s heart had chilled as well.

Li Yunli leaned back a little farther. “Go wash up and eat.”

Ji Zhenshi sensed the distance Li Yunli was trying to create. She grabbed Li Yunli’s wrist where it rested on the table and asked coldly, “What do you mean by that?”

Li Yunli yanked her hand back forcefully. The slight furrow in her brow deepened, her face flushing red. The look in her eyes toward Ji Zhenshi was utterly icy.

Ji Zhenshi knew full well that sign language was Li Yunli’s only means of communication now, yet here she was, pinning her hand down and demanding an explanation.

That frigid stare sent a chill down Ji Zhenshi’s spine. She released her grip without thinking.

Li Yunli’s mind was a whirlwind, her face drained of color. “Aren’t you hungry? You look unwell. If you don’t want to eat, go rest.”

Ji Zhenshi knew she was making things difficult for her. Dejectedly, she withdrew her hand and murmured a quiet, “Oh.”

The breeze that brushed past them as they passed each other felt colder than ever before. The hair at Li Yunli’s forehead stirred slightly, but her expression remained eerily calm.

Xiao Zhen, you’re not a bad person. If anything, you saved me.

But how could our Xiao Zhen possibly like someone like me?

By the time Ji Zhenshi emerged again, Li Yunli was nowhere to be seen in the living room. Only a chill of abandonment lingered, like a room gone cold once its occupant departs.

If not for the untouched platters of food on the table, Ji Zhenshi might have doubted whether everything that had just happened was merely an illusion.

An illusion? Her tongue darted out to trace her lips, where the faint taste of her sister’s lip gloss still lingered.

Lychee flavor today?

But why did she leave?

Ji Zhenshi stood there in a daze, her hands still dripping wet from the sink. She picked up the plain white sticky note left on the table.

—Eat properly. There’s pre-made food in the fridge—heat it in the microwave before eating. Remember to eat on time over the next few days.

Nothing more. It was all gone.

The water from Ji Zhenshi’s hands soaked into the note, blurring the ink. The next instant, a scalding droplet fell from above, followed by another.

“Why? Shouldn’t you have cursed me out?” Ji Zhenshi’s voice choked with sobs, her vision growing hazy.

The handwriting on the note was unmistakably hurried, with erratic strokes midway through from the panic and even two misspelled words.

With a self-mocking smile, Ji Zhenshi crumpled the note into a ball and slumped heavily into the chair. She stared at the spread of dishes before her—all her favorites.

Deep down, she knew that the moment her lips had met Li Yunli’s, the fragile glass between them had shattered.

But must I remain forever a secret admirer, hidden in the shadows?

Ji Zhenshi, do you regret it?

Sister, you’re all I have. Even if it makes me a target of universal scorn for defying ethics, I’ll love you unwaveringly.

In the end, Ji Zhenshi forced down the long-cold food bite by bite. Her solitary figure blended seamlessly into the room’s desolate emptiness.

Underground parking at the company

Tang Xien parked her car and pushed open the door to step out.

“Teacher Tang! Teacher Tang, wait a second. There’s something I need to ask you.”

“Teacher Tang? Did you hear me? Hold on!”

The voice grew nearer from behind, amplified and grating in the vast emptiness of the parking garage.

The moment Tang Xien heard it, her head began to throb. She frowned slightly, pulled out one earbud, and turned toward the source.

It was Zheng Siqi. Today, he had traded his usual attire for a proper black suit. He hurried up to her. “You don’t mind if I take a few minutes of Teacher Tang’s time, do you?”

It was hard to get in touch with Tang Xien outside the company, and he hadn’t seen her in a while.

“Hmph, not at all. We can talk while we walk—my appointment with Ji Zhenshi is almost here, and I don’t like being late.” Tang Xien gave Zheng Siqi a cool glance, inwardly noting that he’d already called out to her, so there was no need for the false politeness.

“New cologne, President Zheng? Excellent taste.” She took a deep breath, but the heavy scent wafting from him irritated her nose. Subtly, she quickened her pace in her high heels to pull ahead.

Why did a grown man have to douse himself in such a cloying fragrance? Mixed with his sweat, the smell was simply unbearable.

“It’s decent—just something I picked up on a whim. I didn’t expect Teacher Tang to have the same taste. What a coincidence.” Zheng Siqi lengthened his stride to catch up. He reached the elevator first and pressed the button, then turned back to her with a smile.

The corner of Tang Xien’s mouth twitched upward. She offered no further explanation. “Mm, quite the coincidence.”

Zheng Siqi followed her into the elevator. “It’s nothing major. I just wanted to ask how Ji Zhenshi’s been lately. It’s been over two months now, and the company is planning to gradually expose her to the public eye and line up her next assignments.”

Under Tang Xien’s guidance, Ji Zhenshi had snagged second place in the National Violin Competition last month—a solid addition to her resume.

But Zheng Siqi’s merchant instincts weren’t keen on giving her too much leeway.

Tang Xien didn’t even need to look at his expression to picture the smug look on his face. A low hum escaped her throat. “She’s doing well. Better than I expected.”

Ji Zhenshi was a graduate of the nation’s top music academy, with a rock-solid foundation. Her violin skills were already impressive, and with her solid aptitude, she’d made huge strides under Tang Xien’s tutelage.

She was a promising talent—one that made Tang Xien’s first foray into teaching feel reasonably rewarding so far.

Her curt response felt like a brush-off to someone she barely tolerated.

Zheng Siqi wasn’t satisfied with the answer. He frowned in displeasure and pressed on. “No particular issues? Nothing she’s struggling to adjust to?”

Technically, he was her superior, wasn’t he?

What was with her perpetually aloof attitude toward everyone?

“She’s fine. Adapts quickly, works hard, endures hardship, and has her own unique style. No major problems.” Her voice remained flat and emotionless.

It was high praise, really. Their first meeting had left Ji Zhenshi pale with shock, yet she showed up the next day as if nothing had happened and continued learning under her. That kind of resilience was rare.

What stood out most was her obsessive devotion to the violin—a near-maniacal persistence that Tang Xien admired. It toed the line between genius and madness.

“Left-hand… genius.” She murmured the words softly, her lips curving into a slow smile.

“Genius? That’s high praise. Looks like you’re pretty satisfied with this student. I remember when I first approached you, you refused without even glancing at her file. My instincts were spot on.” Zheng Siqi was stunned to hear the word “genius” from someone like Tang Xien—a true prodigy in violin.

Sarcasm, surely?

Ji Zhenshi might be promising, her resume proving her potential, but compared to Tang Xien? She still fell short.

He doubted the sincerity of that evaluation.

Tang Xien rubbed the white earbud she’d just removed between her fingers and let out a soft chuckle. “A left-hand genius still under evaluation.”

If Ji Zhenshi proved satisfactory, Tang Xien wouldn’t mind serving as her shortcut.

“Hm? She hasn’t passed your test yet? But you just called her a genius.” Zheng Siqi missed the nuance, unsure if it was sarcasm.

Why did talking to Tang Xien always feel like a reading comprehension exercise?

“A test? There’s no test. The company assigned her to me, remember? It’s all in the contract—I never had the option to refuse, did I?” Tang Xien’s voice dripped with sarcasm, laced with clear hostility.

The moment she said it, Zheng Siqi knew exactly what she meant. The company had shackled Tang Xien with contracts that restricted her freedom, even abroad. She was often forced into unreasonable arrangements for the sake of profit.

She had some leverage to refuse now—what about when she first started?

Zheng Siqi guiltily averted his gaze. “The way you put it, the company is just—”

“You mentioned genius earlier… I used to hate that word. It dismissed all my hidden efforts. But eventually, I came to embrace it. I admire true geniuses. Ji Zhenshi isn’t some unrivaled prodigy, but to reach this point on the left-hand path? That takes talent and grit.”

She cut him off, speaking almost to herself before turning her head to eye him. “Did you get that, President Zheng?”

Tang Xien had a reputation for being difficult, but couldn’t she just speak plainly? Who could parse her riddles?

Zheng Siqi furrowed his brow—it was giving him a headache. “What are you trying to say? Of course I know Ji Zhenshi is worth appreciating. Why else would I have signed her?”

Did all artists talk in circles like this?

Wouldn’t Ji Zhenshi pick up the habit if she spent every day with her? It seemed likely. He’d have to give her a heads-up in advance.

“That’s exactly why I hate chatting with mediocre minds.” The elegant melody in her ears barely masked Tang Xien’s growing impatience. She jammed both earbuds in, letting the familiar, soothing loop countless times calm her nerves.

She took a deep breath and, as they walked, added something rare for her. “What I’m saying is, don’t fixate solely on her commercial value. Don’t turn her into a full-on product. Ji Zhenshi might become an exceptional artist one day, full of unexpected surprises. President Zheng—she plays left-handed.”

That last bit, at least, Zheng Siqi understood: don’t undervalue her just for profit potential.

He couldn’t help but laugh, pointing at himself. To him, Tang Xien’s words sounded absurdly naive. “An artist? Teacher Tang, I’m a businessman at heart. I signed her for the profits she can bring the company, not some vague potential to become an artist.”

“That’s why everyone thinks art is laughable. That’s why the world reeks of greed, and people call folks like me arrogant, out-of-touch snobs.” Tang Xien let out an unsurprised snort.

Ji Zhenshi, it seems only I truly appreciate you.

Don’t let me down. I’m interested in you right now. We might be kindred spirits after all.

The mad, idealistic, incomprehensible, self-righteously “pure” artist.

She couldn’t wait to step out of the elevator. As they walked, Tang Xien suddenly halted. She turned back with an enigmatic smile. “If President Zheng wants to know Ji Zhenshi’s status, why not ask her directly?”

Tang Xien shifted aside. There, in the hallway, stood a girl in black clothes. She had a bag slung over one shoulder, hands tucked in her pockets, watching them silently.

The air grew tense for a split second. Ji Zhenshi blinked in surprise, then understood. She lifted her chin slightly, still catching her breath. “What does Mr. Zheng want to ask me? You could have said it over the phone—no need to make a special trip. I know you’re busy.”

Beads of sweat the size of beans trailed down her cheek, gathering at her jawline before dripping off.

Ji Zhenshi took a couple of steps forward and greeted Tang Xien politely. “Teacher Tang, good morning.”

“Mm. Morning.”

Zheng Siqi hadn’t expected to run into Ji Zhenshi right then, right there. He glanced at the stairwell behind her.

Curious why she hadn’t taken the elevator, but he didn’t care enough to ask. “Nothing much. I was out on a business trip and only got back a couple days ago. You’ve been with the company almost three months now. I wanted to check how you’re settling in—no issues with daily life? We’re about to schedule your next work assignments.”

“I’m doing great. I’ve learned a lot from Teacher Tang. Feel free to arrange whatever, Mr. Zheng—I’ll give it my all.” Ji Zhenshi’s lips curved into an ambitious smile, her forehead bangs slick with sweat.

With that, she pushed open the glass door. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll head in. Teacher Tang, I’ll wait for you.”