Chapter 39: Sister Has Lost Weight

Li Yunli smiled helplessly. “How could that be, Grandma? Xiao Zhenshi will definitely find out. Besides, if she learns that you’ve been admitted to the hospital and we deliberately kept it from her, she’ll get angry.”

Yang Ying would surely tell Ji Zhenshi.

That was how Li Yunli had learned about it herself—from one of Yang Ying’s Moments posts. When she rushed over after seeing the update, Yang Ying hadn’t seemed surprised at all. Instead, she stayed only briefly before claiming she needed to head back to work for overtime, leaving Li Yunli behind to look after Grandma.

Yang Ying was the type who never posted on Moments.

Li Yunli figured this one must have been shared specifically for certain people to see.

But none of that mattered to Li Yunli. She was more than willing to care for Grandma.

She didn’t mind these little machinations when she chose to invest them herself—see through them, but say nothing. And when she didn’t want to, no one could force her hand.

For the past six years, Yang Ying had never shown her a kind face. Li Yunli had few friends, and in the family, only Grandma kept her company with real conversation. Ji Zhenshi came second, but she spent most of her time at school.

Grandma was a sensible soul; she knew exactly who treated her well.

“What would she get angry about?” Grandma said. “There’s nothing wrong to begin with. Old folks like me bruise easily—it’s normal. Don’t worry yourself. Why don’t you give Xiao Zhenshi a call? Tell her not to rush over; it’s nothing serious.”

Grandma’s left hand was immobile, so she reached out with her right—the one still hooked to an IV—to grab her phone.

Li Yunli quickly stood and gently pressed Grandma’s hand back down, steadying it to prevent any backflow into the line. “Don’t move, Grandma. You’ll get a backflow. If you want to call her, I can dial for you.”

Ji Zhenshi’s phone was rarely easy to reach these days anyway. Once she entered an important event, she always silenced it to avoid disturbing others.

Li Yunli hadn’t even tried calling her lately.

She pulled out her own phone and entered the number she knew by heart. But at the last moment, she hesitated.

Grandma suddenly changed her tune. “On second thought, it’d be nice to have that girl drop by. Let her see if this old lady’s put on weight or lost some. Otherwise, she’ll keep nagging me over the phone, and it won’t put her mind at ease until she sees for herself.”

Grandma said it so convincingly, as if it were truly just to reassure Ji Zhenshi.

Li Yunli understood the real meaning at once. She set the phone aside and smiled gently. “It’s you who misses Xiao Zhenshi, isn’t it, Grandma?”

She wanted to see if Xiao Zhenshi had gained or lost weight, if there were any changes, how her days had been going, how it felt to play the violin in front of all those people for the first time, whether the changing season had brought any aches or pains.

Li Yunli wondered the same things.

Without the constant updates that had once followed her like a shadow, Li Yunli could no longer glimpse Ji Zhenshi’s world.

So Xiao Zhenshi, we’re from different worlds to begin with.

The love of youth is a flimsy little boat, too frail to carry two people across the water.

“Nonsense,” Grandma huffed, though her heart wasn’t in it. “Why would I miss her? She’s been yapping in my ear for over a decade. Now that it’s finally quiet for a few years, I’m thrilled.”

Grandma wouldn’t admit she missed her precious granddaughter and was using this as an excuse to see her.

Li Yunli didn’t call her out on that last bit of stubbornness. She lowered her gaze, her expression dimming.

But it hurt Li Yunli, too.

A slap from her would hurt more, but realizing it was she herself who had pushed Xiao Zhenshi away—that pain cut even deeper.

She couldn’t have Xiao Zhenshi.

After a long silence, Grandma gazed up at the ceiling and sighed. “That girl’s done us proud. Never gave me a moment’s worry growing up, and she always knew how to care for others. Her first real earnings—ten bucks—and she bought me a scarf. Cheap thing, but I kept it for over a decade. Back then, I was the one raising her and her brother full-time. I’d pick them up from school every day. She’d chatter nonstop by my side, bragging about her latest praise, raving about how good lunch had been. Tiny thing, hopping along with a backpack half her size. Adorable as could be. And now she’s all grown up into a young lady. I’m the old one. God, I miss that girl.”

As Grandma reminisced about Ji Zhenshi’s childhood, Li Yunli listened intently, hanging on every word as if afraid to miss a single one.

Xiao Zhenshi really was that cute, that caring, that accomplished.

So for Li Yunli, being loved by her was the greatest surprise in nearly thirty years of life—the sweetest gift from heaven.

If only she could reach out and claim it.

“I can’t even picture what that girl would look like as a violinist.”

What would someone so sunny and lively look like, quietly playing the violin? How would that chatty little goody-two-shoes appear on stage as a performer?

Once you saw the real Ji Zhenshi, it was hard to imagine her all grown up and poised.

Grandma had never seen her perform live, but Li Yunli had witnessed it firsthand.

It was a completely different Ji Zhenshi—brimming with youthful vigor.

Hearing Grandma say that, Li Yunli felt a pang in her chest. “I’ll show you what Xiao Zhenshi looked like on stage playing the violin.”

Grandma only had a basic old phone; she couldn’t see Ji Zhenshi’s bold performance online, and no one cared about an old lady’s quiet little wish.

Li Yunli took her tablet from her bag and opened the video of Ji Zhenshi’s first stage appearance with Tang Xien. The full performance ran three or four hours, but Ji Zhenshi’s part was just five or six minutes.

Li Yunli had edited it down to only her segment. “This was her first performance with her teacher—the first stage of her life outside school.”

They watched Ji Zhenshi on stage together. The video quality wasn’t great, and the audio was a bit noisy, but it was still a visual feast worth seeing with their own eyes.

That was exactly the scene Ji Zhenshi burst into—flinging open the hospital room door. Li Yunli and Grandma both looked up at her.

The girl from the video appeared before them in the flesh. The sudden thrill made their hearts skip, an unforgettable moment.

Ji Zhenshi’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected to find Li Yunli here. Heat flushed her healed cheeks for no reason at all.

The subsided waves crashed back over her, bringing a touch of embarrassment.

It was the giddy rush of seeing Li Yunli again after their bitter parting—and the memory of that furious slap.

Ji Zhenshi was hopeless when it came to love; she couldn’t hide it at all.

She reined in her reckless impulse, awkwardly averting her eyes. She hurried to the bedside. “Grandma, let me see your hand. How could you be so careless? What did the doctor say? Why didn’t you call me right away?”

She grabbed Grandma’s hand, nearly throwing herself onto the bed.

Grandma steadied her. “Whoa there, still as unsteady as ever. It’s nothing—a little fall. I’ll be out in a few days. You’re busy, and it’s so far away. Calling you would’ve just made you worry for no reason.”

On stage, Xiao Zhenshi had been so composed and steady. How had she turned back into this lively spitfire in the blink of an eye?

The contrast was striking.

But this was the Xiao Zhenshi she knew best.

“Even so, seeing you like this has me worried sick,” Ji Zhenshi said. “No matter how busy I am, you’re more important. A fracture, and you call it nothing?” She cradled the casted hand, her face flushed with anxiety. “This must hurt like hell.”

“Elderly bones aren’t as tough as a young person’s,” Li Yunli explained thoughtfully. “Even a minor bump can be serious. The cast is on, and all the other tests came back fine. No need to worry.”

She stood to offer Ji Zhenshi her seat, then handed over the test reports so she could see for herself and relax.

A familiar fragrance wafted over her for a moment. Ji Zhenshi reached for the reports, their skin brushing for a second—sending a shiver of warmth through her.

She missed her sister so much, and it had been ages since they’d touched. The long-lost reliance sparked an urge to pull Li Yunli into her arms.

Ji Zhenshi cleared her throat to cover her unease and said mildly, “Thanks.”

Those two short words doused a torrent of emotions.

Li Yunli’s gentle gaze faltered. An unexpected chill sliced through her heart. She mustered a faint, shadowed smile.

Xiao Zhenshi, you’re upset with me, aren’t you?

Ji Zhenshi scowled at the reports, flipping through them repeatedly. Her face darkened. “Grandma, how did I not know about your high blood pressure? Mom said she was taking you for regular checkups.”

“It’s just a minor issue,” Grandma said. “At my age, it’s normal. I’ve been on meds, and it’s no big deal. Don’t fret.” She patted Ji Zhenshi’s hand, her eyes drifting past her to Li Yunli, so poised and serene by the window.

That “thanks” had come out of nowhere, stirring up questions.

Had they fought?

Ji Zhenshi irritably set the reports aside. “How could I not worry?”

She slung off her backpack. In her peripheral vision, she caught the still-open tablet displaying a familiar scene. Her eyes paused; she picked it up. “Were you just watching me?”

“Yeah,” Grandma said. “I’d never seen you perform live, so Yunli pulled up the video. Our Xiao Zhenshi’s getting more impressive by the day.”

“Nah, it’s all thanks to Teacher Tang. Without her, I wouldn’t have improved this much. This angle’s blurry; I’ve got a clear company version. I’ll show you later.” Ji Zhenshi powered down the tablet.

This must have been some audience footage Li Yunli found online. Ever since their fallout, Ji Zhenshi had stopped sharing any part of her life with her.

She cared so much, yet she had to push her away.

【My world can’t be without the moon.】

She remembered the next day after the slap—waking up and deleting that late-night Moments post, replacing it with another.

Stubborn Ji Zhenshi. Ji Zhenshi, who couldn’t stay away from Li Yunli.

Pretending to be calm, Ji Zhenshi took Grandma’s hand. “Grandma, from now on, you have to tell me right away if anything happens, okay? Otherwise, I worry so much I can’t focus on work.”

“Alright, first thing next time.”

Ji Zhenshi stayed with Grandma a while longer, confirming once more that she was fine before standing.

“Where you off to, Xiao Zhenshi?” Grandma asked.

“I’ll go ask the doctor about your condition.” Ji Zhenshi rose, her gaze flicking to Li Yunli as they passed shoulder to shoulder.

Anyone but you.

She chewed over those words again and again, tasting only bitterness.

She was still too young, too unable to give Li Yunli the security she needed—to convince her they could overcome everything and love freely.

Ji Zhenshi understood her hesitations, but it still hurt.

“Excuse me, patient in bed 18, Zhang Fenglan—time to pay.”

“Her initial treatment fees are settled, and we have three thousand in pre-paid deposit.”

“Ah? Who paid? Can you check?”

“Um… we can’t disclose that.”

“It was this morning, right?”

“Yes, around nine a.m.”

“Okay, thanks.”

Ji Zhenshi pocketed her phone’s payment code and turned away, a sense of loss settling over her.

It couldn’t have been Yang Ying—her call had been to get Ji Zhenshi to pay. And Ji Tingjun sure as hell couldn’t spare that much for Grandma’s hospital bills.

Paid today… Ji Zhenshi knew who it had to be.

She headed back to the room. Li Yunli was teaching Grandma some sign language to pass the time. Ji Zhenshi lingered quietly in the doorway, watching her patiently demonstrate the gestures over and over. Her profile was soft, her refined features radiating a gentle clarity, like warmth distilled through the years.

A spring breeze, a soft rain—rippling silently across her heart.

It had been over two months since they’d seen each other. Winter was harsh; Li Yunli was dressed lightly in a fitted cashmere sweater under a gray overcoat, wrapped in a scarf. No frills, and with no heat in the room, even her nose tip was red from the cold.

So fragile and stirring, rousing every protective instinct.

The slim waist Ji Zhenshi once pulled effortlessly into her arms was now hidden under loose layers. Crushing longing threatened to drive her mad, but seeing Li Yunli in the flesh quieted it.

From here on, every touch had to be measured carefully. She never wanted to see that woman cornered again, eyes red with desperation and helplessness.

Ji Zhenshi knew what Li Yunli wanted. She blamed only her own limitations, not Li Yunli’s careful deliberations.

Her gaze lingered lovingly on Li Yunli for a long moment.

“Miss, could you step aside? I need to get in.”

A polite voice by her ear snapped her back. She’d been blocking the door too long; a nurse needed to change the meds.

“Sorry, go ahead.” Ji Zhenshi apologized profusely, opening the door wider for the nurse and following right behind.

She quietly turned on the room’s heater, then went to Grandma’s bedside. “Grandma, hungry? Want me to grab something from outside?”

Li Yunli paused her sign language lesson. Her smile hadn’t faded yet, leaving her looking warmly at Ji Zhenshi.

One glance, and Ji Zhenshi stiffly looked away—to Grandma only.

“No need. Yunli brought dinner and just warmed it up for me.” Zhang Fenglan glanced at Li Yunli, then added, “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“Not yet. I’ll grab something quick at the hospital gate later.” Ji Zhenshi leaned against the windowsill, posture casually languid.

Li Yunli sat at the bedside, and from here, Ji Zhenshi had a perfect view of her profile. Peeking from behind, she wouldn’t notice.

So Ji Zhenshi’s stolen glances grew bolder. She’d already stared so long at the door, but like a greedy child eyeing an unattainable toy, she couldn’t stop. Her possessiveness burned unquenched.

Sister looks thinner. Probably—must be the coffee shop keeping her so busy.

But she was still so beautiful, every expression brimming with warmth.

“Ji Zhenshi, I’m talking to you. What are you spacing out for?” Zhang Fenglan raised her voice.

Ji Zhenshi snapped back. Not just Grandma—Li Yunli had turned to look at her, too.

Flustered, she straightened up and gave an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say, Grandma?”

Lost in Li Yunli, her heart raced guiltily. She hoped she hadn’t been caught.

Zhang Fenglan narrowed her eyes. Her granddaughter could be such a space cadet sometimes.

Helplessly, she repeated herself for the third time. “Yunli hasn’t eaten either. You two should go get something together. I’m off the IV now—no need for anyone hovering.”

“Oh.” Ji Zhenshi glanced at Li Yunli, seeking her opinion.

She’d thought she’d found the perfect sneaky spot. Annoyed, she shifted closer to the bed, as if that might dodge the awkwardness.