Chapter 41: Did I Make You Suffer?

“Thanks for going to the trouble, Teacher Tang, and bringing this all the way to me.” Ji Zhenshi held her lost wallet, her face full of apology as she spoke to Tang Xien.

The wallet contained important documents like her ID and bank card. Without Tang Xien picking it up for her, Ji Zhenshi would have been frantic trying to replace them, and dealing with the bureaucracy would have been a nightmare. Plus, this was outside work hours, and it made her feel bad that Tang Xien had made a special trip.

Tang Xien leaned lightly against the car door, her expression indifferent. “One, it wasn’t a special trip. The hospital was on my way home—just a quick stop. Two, I’m sorry, but I have to tell you no on the leave request for tomorrow and the day after. You know how hard it is to secure performance slots like these. I fought for this one with the organizer myself. You agreed to the timing in person when we coordinated. I’ve already sent you the address. I hope you’ll make it to rehearsals on time.”

Tang Xien corrected her sternly, leaving no room for favors.

She didn’t need Ji Zhenshi’s thanks and didn’t think a simple errand like this warranted any. Besides, she’d had another purpose for coming, so it hardly counted as going out of her way.

Ji Zhenshi had asked about taking time off before heading to dinner, and now Tang Xien’s firm refusal left her stammering. “But I…”

Grandma had no one to care for her tomorrow, and Ji Zhenshi wanted to stay and look after her.

“Of course, you’re free to choose not to go. The final decision is yours. I’ve made my position clear,” Tang Xien said gravely.

Just as Ji Zhenshi thought there might be some wiggle room, Tang Xien continued, “But let me be clear: This is an opportunity I secured for you using my own connections—something I didn’t have to do. If you miss it, I’ll personally apologize to the organizer and pay any breach penalties. That’s not even the main issue. The real problem is that it would be the last time I ever fight for a chance for you. You can’t be trusted to keep your own promises, let alone respect the effort I’ve put in.”

Tang Xien wasn’t interested in Ji Zhenshi’s reasons. She simply laid out every issue with clear logic.

She offered no leeway but still gave Ji Zhenshi a choice.

Ji Zhenshi frowned in distress. She knew this stage time had come from Tang Xien calling in favors, a rare chance she’d prepared for extensively.

“I don’t mean any disrespect, Teacher Tang. I know how much effort you put into this for me. I’m grateful you secured it, and I truly value the opportunity.”

Tang Xien nodded slightly, glancing down at her watch. “I know. I’m just reminding you: Weighing pros and cons is a lesson every adult must learn. You have one minute to decide.”

In the face of such unyielding rationality, Ji Zhenshi couldn’t even argue for more time.

Of course. Tang Xien didn’t have to do any of this. Neither did Li Yunli.

So many good people surrounded her. She had no reason to pass up a hard-won chance like this.

“Is the venue still the same one?” Ji Zhenshi asked.

“Yes. Seven to ten p.m., with rehearsals all day tomorrow. Be at the site by eight sharp in the morning. Bring your violin and find the sound technician to test the equipment.”

“Got it. I’ll be there on time.”

“Good. Be meticulous—no mistakes.” Tang Xien’s expression didn’t change, as if she’d expected as much. She turned and opened the car door.

Glancing back at the wallet in Ji Zhenshi’s hand, she added, uncharacteristically, “Ji Zhenshi, you’re a bit scatterbrained.”

“Huh?” Ji Zhenshi blinked, unsure what she meant. Tang Xien rarely repeated herself, so it took a few mental loops for Ji Zhenshi to recall the time Xia Siyuan had brought her work badge back. Her eyes widened. “Wait, last time, wasn’t it you who forgot to give me my badge?”

How had that become her being scatterbrained? She wasn’t taking the blame for that.

“…”

Tang Xien stared at her earnest expression and suddenly smiled, murmuring, “Yeah, it does seem like you.”

The girl in her memories had been just as endearing.

Always so serious about things that made others chuckle.

The age, the height, the personality—even the passion for the violin.

Look, she thought. I’m seeing echoes of you from my memories in someone else. She’s like you… but not you.

I know full well she isn’t you.

“But don’t you think treating me like her is a little disrespectful to me?” Ji Zhenshi said with a light laugh, though her tone remained calm.

Tang Xien had shown unusual smiles only twice around her, both times saying the same thing. Once when they’d first met and she’d remarked on the video that Ji Zhenshi looked like someone, and now again.

It was enough to pique the curiosity of someone like Ji Zhenshi, who hated gossip. Who was this person Tang Xien kept comparing her to? Just how alike were they?

The idea of someone else in the same world resembling her so closely that it left another person dazed sent a chill down Ji Zhenshi’s spine.

The corners of Tang Xien’s mouth curved slightly as she raised an eyebrow. “You’re overthinking it. I’d never mistake you for her. If I did, it’d just lead to another tragedy.”

She was simply numbing herself with the sober delusion that the person still lingered.

One second of joy could offset a whole day of pain.

“So?”

“So there’s no issue of respect or not.”

Ji Zhenshi shrugged. “Fine, just saying.”

Because Tang Xien had just mentioned respect, Ji Zhenshi’s rebellious streak had wanted to throw the words right back at her. Unfortunately, Tang Xien was always one step ahead.

Truth be told, Ji Zhenshi didn’t care who Tang Xien saw her as. She only cared how far Tang Xien could guide her on the violin path. That was it.

“Mm.” Tang Xien got into the car and drove off decisively.

“So straightforward,” Ji Zhenshi muttered to herself, still standing there. “What kind of divine being has you so obsessed?” She shook her head. Why was she even thinking about it? It had nothing to do with her.

She’d been considering some way to thank Tang Xien.

But now she realized it was pointless. Tang Xien didn’t need it and would probably find the obligation annoying.

Ji Zhenshi turned, shrugging her shoulders. Her breath formed visible puffs in the cold winter air.

It might snow this year.

Beinan hadn’t seen snow in years.

Back in the hospital room, the person she’d hoped to see wasn’t there. “Where’s Sister A-Yun?”

“It’s so late—she must’ve gone home. The coffee shop needs her too. What about you? Why didn’t you come back with her? Didn’t you go to dinner together?” Zhang Fenglan replied, her eyes on the news playing in the room.

“Oh.” Ji Zhenshi’s gaze dropped, her mood low as she sat by the bed. “I lost something and went to pick it up.”

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the tablet at the foot of the bed—Li Yunli’s. Had she forgotten it?

Ji Zhenshi picked it up. She knew the passcode. The screen was still on one of her videos. Backing out revealed a photo album collection full of recordings from her performances.

Slumped over the bed edge, Ji Zhenshi idly tapped one open: the video of her confessing at the piano.

This angle…

Li Yunli had recorded it?

“Are you fighting with Yunli?” Zhang Fenglan asked suddenly.

Ji Zhenshi froze mid-slouch and looked up at her grandmother in surprise.

After a moment, she feigned nonchalance. “N-no… Why would I fight with Sister A-Yun? We haven’t even seen each other much lately. You know how it is, Grandma—I’m always in the practice room or out running errands. No time to meet up. Ever since graduation, we barely cross paths. I don’t go to her coffee shop often.”

She wasn’t good at lying, so she piled on words to cover the initial slip, which only made her sound more awkward.

Too many words led to mistakes. Ji Zhenshi couldn’t lie to save her life.

Zhang Fenglan watched quietly. Ji Zhenshi always blushed beet red when she lied. She hadn’t even pressed, and Ji Zhenshi was already panicking herself.

“What’s it over? Why the fight?”

“…”

Ji Zhenshi was speechless. How was she supposed to explain?

That she’d confessed to Li Yunli, gotten rejected, then impulsively forced a kiss and ended up slapped?

Ji Zhenshi closed the tablet. “I’m tired. Time for bed.”

“Yunli has such a good temper. Was it you being unreasonable?” Zhang Fenglan knew her granddaughter too well. She grabbed her hand, not letting her dodge.

Ji Zhenshi pointed at herself in exasperation. “Are you really my grandma? Whose side are you on?”

“Whoever’s in the right.”

“You don’t even know what happened, and you assume she is?”

“You think I don’t know you? I raised you myself—don’t I know what she’s like?”

“…”

Ji Zhenshi sighed, frowning in genuine distress. “Grandma, it’s complicated. I can’t explain it clearly. But I promise we’re not fighting. Please don’t worry.”

“Let me tell you, Xiao Zhen, no throwing tantrums. Yunli took care of me all day today. She’s got no blood tie to us. Back when she lived with our family, your mom never gave her a kind look. And now she’s still so good to me. We owe her our thanks. Be grateful—don’t end up like your mom, chasing money your whole life and getting nothing in the end.” Zhang Fenglan sighed again. “That girl would be a blessing to any family. What a wonderful child.”

In Zhang Fenglan’s eyes, Li Yunli had endless virtues.

She often told friends how regretful it was that their family had no fate with Li Yunli—no chance to become family.

Ji Zhenshi found it grating. “Got it, my dear grandma. Time for you to sleep. Good rest means getting better sooner, so you can go home and hang out with your friends.”

No chance for a grandson, maybe the granddaughter…

But now even that seemed impossible.

The more Ji Zhenshi thought, the more irritated she grew. Slumped by the bed, she couldn’t sleep. Eventually, she curled up on the cot with her earbuds in.

The cot was cold and hard. Ji Zhenshi hadn’t worn enough, and in the night, she started feeling chilled.

In her hazy half-sleep, a figure brought her warmth.

Li Yunli moved with utmost care, draping a blanket over her.

Reluctant to leave, she crouched down for a close look at the girl’s stunning features, her gaze brimming with endless tenderness.

It had been so long since she’d seen Xiao Zhen. She hadn’t changed much—the only difference was the subdued air about her, dimming her usual sunny vibe.

Xiao Zhen… Did I make you suffer?

How she longed to be a normal person, free of all the messy entanglements—just two people meeting clean and simple.

But her family, Ji Zhenshi’s family, her career—so many unavoidable realities forced Li Yunli to choose wisdom over impulse.

It wasn’t a lack of love. It was too much love.

Xiao Zhen, charge forward without looking back. Loving each other would bring you endless difficulties.

I don’t want you stuck making choices.

Feeling the warmth, Ji Zhenshi’s furrowed brow relaxed. The soothing melody in her earbuds calmed her. She couldn’t fully sleep, but at least she was resting.

Tomorrow’s rehearsal would be grueling, and Tang Xien’s standards were sky-high. Ji Zhenshi couldn’t afford mistakes.

A familiar faint scent enveloped her, one she hadn’t smelled in ages. Ji Zhenshi felt disoriented, unsure if it was dream or reality.

Dreams. Always just dreams.

Ji Zhenshi’s sleeping face was so soft and obedient that Li Yunli couldn’t resist reaching out, tracing her brows and eyes lightly, terrified of waking her.

“Xiao Zhen, I’m absolutely certain—I love you right now.”

“But you’re meant to fly away, aren’t you?”

Li Yunli’s silent confession went unheard. Even her touches were tentative, lest Ji Zhenshi notice.

Her tender gaze enveloped the girl as Li Yunli’s hand drifted lower, fingertips hovering millimeters from her cheek.

It must hurt…

Xia Siyuan had said Ji Zhenshi’s face stayed swollen for days. She’d had no appetite, even stomach pains from late-night hunger.

Li Yunli didn’t blame her for the forced kiss. She just regretted her own impulsive slap over and over. Though she’d said she didn’t mind, guilt gnawed at her.

“Xiao Zhen, good night.”

Li Yunli didn’t linger. She tugged the blanket higher and slipped out of the room silently.

She slept soundly through the night.

Ji Zhenshi’s alarm wasn’t set early—or rather, it never rang. She was woken by the family of another patient: two chattering boys who filled the room with noise. A light sleeper, she sat up within minutes, rolling over.

“My head hurts…” Leaning her occiput against the hard metal bed frame, Ji Zhenshi rubbed her temples.

The plain white blanket slipped from her chest. She eyed it suspiciously.

Not a dream after all?

Had Li Yunli come back? Impossible—she’d left late at night.

No explanation made sense. Lately, things just kept getting weirder. Thinking about it only made her head throb more.

“Grandma, did anyone come by last night?” Ji Zhenshi asked hesitantly.

“Oh, your brother stopped in around six. Stayed two minutes and left. He didn’t say anything, so I didn’t wake you,” Zhang Fenglan replied.

Six a.m.—probably out carousing all night, swinging by on his way home.

Ji Zhenshi sneered inwardly and got up to put on her shoes.

It sure wasn’t Ji Tingjun who’d covered her. She harbored no delusions about her brother.

He was her own grandson but couldn’t even stay a moment longer.

What a grandson Ji Tingjun was.

Her parents were no better. After dumping Grandma on her, they’d washed their hands of it—no calls to check in.

They were banking on Ji Zhenshi never abandoning her, exploiting Li Yunli’s kindness, treating her like a fool.

Ji Zhenshi wasn’t about to indulge them. She’d meant to call her dad and make him watch Grandma for a day, but before she could, Li Yunli walked in carrying breakfast.

Ji Zhenshi, who’d just splashed cold water on her face in the bathroom, stepped out and bumped straight into Li Yunli’s springlike warmth.

Their eyes met. Before her brain could catch up, the words tumbled out. “Sister A-Yun, morning.”

A conditioned reflex from years past—seeing Li Yunli made her grin like an idiot, her voice softening unconsciously.

Pathetic, Ji Zhenshi.

Li Yunli’s gaze was soft with a gentle smile. “Morning, Xiao Zhen.”

“You go handle your stuff today. I’ll take care of Grandma. Xiao Ning’s watching the shop—no need for me. I love chatting with her, so don’t worry.”

Li Yunli held out her notebook, with everything pre-written.

Ji Zhenshi hadn’t even mentioned it, yet Li Yunli had anticipated it all.

Resolving another crisis for her.

Shadows flickered in Ji Zhenshi’s eyes. “Okay. I’ll try to wrap up early and come back. Sorry to trouble you today, Sister A-Yun.”

“Mm. I made extra breakfast. Eat before you go?” Li Yunli opened the thermos—warmed milk.

Ji Zhenshi could already taste it; she’d had it countless times.

It had been ages.

Ji Zhenshi swallowed. “A bun’s fine for me.”

“Then at least drink the milk.” Li Yunli handed over the thermos.

“Okay.” Ji Zhenshi packed her bag one-handed while sipping through the straw.

Li Yunli watched her with a smile. She always chewed on straws, no matter what she drank.

So obedient. Xiao Zhen was such a good baby.

Slinging on her bag, Ji Zhenshi turned to Zhang Fenglan. “Grandma, I’m heading out. Call if you need anything. I’ll be in Beinan the next few days—no leaving town.”

“Sister A-Yun, thanks again.”

“No trouble.” Li Yunli sat by the bed.

She actually loved hearing Grandma’s stories of Ji Zhenshi’s childhood. She’d heard most before, but every snippet revealed traces of that carefree past she’d never shared.

A time when Xiao Zhen had been unburdened and worry-free.