After rehearsal ended that day, Ji Zhenshi dragged her exhausted body back to the hospital.
Her own segment had been quite short, but Tang Xien was an exceptionally rigorous person. She had insisted on having Ji Zhenshi stay and accompany her through the entire session.
Pushing open the door, Ji Zhenshi hadn’t expected to see these two uninvited guests.
The warmth drained from her face in an instant. “I thought you and Dad were too busy with work to even spare a glance for Grandma.”
Li Yunli stood at the foot of the bed, her head bowed, her expression dim.
Ji Zhenshi instinctively stepped in front of Li Yunli, shielding her. “What did you say this time?”
She truly didn’t want to hear a single word defaming Li Yunli.
“You child, how can you speak like that? Your grandma’s getting discharged today. We’re here to pick her up and take her home. Haven’t you been the only one watching over her for an entire night? Why all this resentment?”
It was Ji Yuancheng speaking—Ji Zhenshi’s father. His face looked stern as he scolded her, but in truth, he kept shooting her meaningful glances, urging her to say less and avoid sparking another argument with her mother.
Ji Zhenshi was used to her father’s muddling ways. She let out a cold laugh. “Big bro, are you doing okay? Grandma was admitted in the early hours of yesterday morning. Sister A-Yun watched over her all day yesterday, I took the night shift, and today it’s been just her the whole time. What do you mean ‘I only watched one night’? Lucky this was just a two-day observation stay. If it had dragged on longer, would we have ever seen your faces?”
How could her resentment not run deep? Leaving Grandma in the care of Li Yunli, who couldn’t speak a word—and even then, Li Yunli had been running around getting her checked out. They were capable of something like that.
Sometimes, Ji Zhenshi wondered if she was truly related to them by blood.
Why were they so utterly different?
“What’s that ‘big bro’ nonsense? No manners at all.” Yang Ying shot Ji Zhenshi a glare, picked up the bag Li Yunli had already packed, and handled the discharge paperwork.
Aware of their own guilt, they didn’t want to lose face in front of the other patients in the room, so Yang Ying strode ahead on her own.
Li Yunli tugged at Ji Zhenshi’s sleeve. “They just arrived. They didn’t say anything.”
Only after seeing the sign language did Ji Zhenshi’s expression soften a little. She stepped aside to let Ji Yuancheng help Grandma through.
“Grandma doesn’t need to stay in the hospital anymore. The checkups over these two days were all clear. The doctor said she just needs to rest well at home and come back for periodic follow-ups. These are some recipes I wrote up when I had time today—they’ll help with her recovery. Give them to your mom and have her cook according to them when she’s free. It’s not any trouble.” Li Yunli handed over a stack of folded A4 sheets to Ji Zhenshi.
Li Yunli enjoyed cooking and had done some research into it.
Ji Zhenshi took the papers. “Mm, thanks.”
“Xiao Zhen, you don’t need to thank me.” Li Yunli finally couldn’t hold back from bringing it up.
Don’t say thanks to her. Never.
Ji Zhenshi gave Li Yunli a deep look before smiling faintly. “Should I walk you back? I noticed you already had dinner.”
She had originally wanted to suggest they grab a meal together before parting. She felt like her mother must have said something, and she wanted a chance to ask about it.
But Li Yunli had already eaten, so Ji Zhenshi let it go.
“Have you eaten?” Li Yunli asked with concern.
“They got some boxed meals, and I had a bit. It’s fine. I’ll grab something casual after walking you back.”
She had driven there, but Ji Zhenshi simply said she would accompany her back.
Li Yunli took the initiative. “Let’s go to the coffee shop. There are fresh vegetables in the fridge. I can make you something.”
The mere thought of the coffee shop made Ji Zhenshi’s cheeks burn. She touched her face self-consciously. “No need to trouble yourself. I’ll just eat something simple when I get back.”
Had Li Yunli’s slap given her PTSD?
She dropped her hand awkwardly, feeling inexplicably guilty and unable to meet Li Yunli’s eyes.
She had truly paid a heavy price for that forced kiss.
“Mm.” Li Yunli nodded slightly, not pressing the issue.
Her attitude remained distant, cool and detached—no longer any of the former intimacy.
They really couldn’t go back.
Ji Zhenshi slipped on her mask and followed behind Li Yunli.
They traveled in silence. Li Yunli didn’t head straight to the coffee shop; instead, she drove toward Yang Ying’s house.
Ji Zhenshi needed to go home and check on Grandma.
Ji Zhenshi glanced around, about to speak, when her peripheral vision caught the lit-up screen of Li Yunli’s phone on the center console.
An unfamiliar number, with glaring content.
[Manager Li, thanks for the coffee. Let’s talk details tomorrow. See you then.]
Ji Zhenshi gave a wry smile tinged with sorrow.
Perhaps it was unintentional—or maybe Li Yunli had deliberately let her see it. Did the intention even need spelling out?
There was no need for a tactic like this.
The car came to a steady stop. Ji Zhenshi unbuckled her seatbelt. “Tha—”
She caught herself mid-thanks, remembering Li Yunli’s words at the hospital, and changed tack. “If you have time tomorrow afternoon, let me treat you to dinner, Sister A-Yun.”
Her innate rebelliousness surged forth unchecked. Ji Zhenshi gazed at Li Yunli with a half-smile.
Li Yunli, how would you choose?
Li Yunli’s pale hands tightened abruptly on the steering wheel. She could barely maintain her smile any longer; the soft spring water between her brows had vanished, leaving only gloom.
After a long moment, her hands finally released the wheel, nearly limp. “Do we really have to be this distant between us?”
Did Ji Zhenshi feel bad for troubling her these past couple of days, so she was offering dinner as thanks—no debt owed?
They had shared so many meals together. Even in the same place, this one carried an entirely different weight, devoid of any anticipation.
“No, I just want to have a meal with you. It’s not about thanking you for anything. I just feel like after I graduate, we’ll eat together a lot less, and we’ll grow apart.” Ji Zhenshi spoke earnestly, but the faint, elusive smile at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
The rebellious girl had to test the waters like this.
Relieved that it wasn’t out of guilt, Li Yunli exhaled imperceptibly.
“Together? You pick the place—how’s that for sincerity?” Ji Zhenshi spread her hands, her eyes devoid of their former sparkle, more like self-mockery now.
“Sorry, Xiao Zhen. I have plans with someone else. Maybe another time.”
“That man from the last dinner we had together?” The words nearly tumbled out of Ji Zhenshi’s mouth.
Li Yunli’s social circle was small; Ji Zhenshi knew most of them. That man was one of the rare few she’d taken an instant dislike to, as if nothing about him sat right with her.
“Probably. That number looks familiar—the one on the back of the membership card.”
In truth, Ji Zhenshi hadn’t memorized the number; she was just probing to confirm.
Li Yunli looked at her in some shock. She hadn’t even noticed there was a phone number on the back of the membership card.
Her reaction confirmed Ji Zhenshi’s suspicions. After a silent moment, Ji Zhenshi said, “No problem. If Sister A-Yun doesn’t have time, then next time. I’ll head out. Drive safe.”
She pushed open the door and got out before Li Yunli could respond.
Li Yunli reached out and grabbed her. “Xiao Zhen, you seem off. Is there something you want to say?”
Ji Zhenshi turned back reluctantly. “No, how am I off? Didn’t I just invite you to dinner?”
She badly wanted to say that Li Yunli had shown it to her on purpose.
To prove what? Maybe not to prove anything—just this crude method to try dousing the prairie fire of her affections.
Li Yunli, there’s no need for this. At least pick a more sophisticated approach; it was too obvious, no fun at all.
Ji Zhenshi felt she had already restrained her love enough—loving Li Yunli quietly, without forcing choices, without demanding a relationship, carefully weighing every word with steady emotions.
Even this much regression wasn’t satisfactory?
“Tomorrow at noon? He recommended a location, I took his suggestion, so I agreed to lunch as thanks. I’ve already promised him; I can’t back out.” Li Yunli proposed an alternative, not wanting to dampen Ji Zhenshi’s enthusiasm.
She hadn’t meant for Ji Zhenshi to see the message. She would never use such a clumsy, hurtful tactic on her.
It had just been a coincidence—Ji Zhenshi had spotted it, leading to this misunderstanding by chance.
Ji Zhenshi hesitated for only a second before pulling her sleeve free and shoving the door open without hesitation. “I don’t have time tomorrow at noon; I need to prep for the afternoon performance. We’ll do it another time. That was just a whim anyway. Opening a shop is serious business, so yeah, have a friend look over those contracts to avoid getting scammed. I’m off, Sister A-Yun. See you next time.”
If Ji Zhenshi wanted to leave, there was no stopping her.
Li Yunli sighed helplessly, picked up her phone to set it to private notifications—no previews without unlocking, to avoid more misunderstandings.
Sometimes things lined up just like that, leaving her no room to explain herself.
But wasn’t this the outcome she wanted?
Ji Zhenshi had walked several steps when she suddenly stopped, then hurried back just as quickly.
The anger she had barely suppressed erupted at last. She yanked open the car door, her voice rising sharply, laced with fury as it crashed over Li Yunli. “Li Yunli, are you happy now that I’m trying to hold back these feelings? You can only be satisfied if we’re total strangers, right?”
She wasn’t forcing Li Yunli, yet Li Yunli was forcing her this way.
Ji Zhenshi deeply realized once more: Even the softest woman could be utterly resolute when she set her heart against something—leaving not a shred of hope, plunging you straight into the abyss.
“Falling for you—was that my mistake? But you like me too, don’t you?”
Ji Zhenshi’s voice nearly broke with sobs. She couldn’t understand how to prove to Li Yunli just how steadfast her love was. A six-year secret crush was only the tip of the iceberg—how could Li Yunli know the vast ocean churning beneath?
Perhaps Li Yunli didn’t doubt the depth of her love or her determination to be together. It was the damn future she was considering—the messy difficulties this relationship would bring.
She wanted her to be good. She wanted her life smooth sailing, even if her tastes were unconventional—as long as it was with someone who could at least speak.
Too gentle, suppressing all her emotions for her sake—a rare treasure in this world, almost too perfect to be real.
But she didn’t need that!
She would gladly be the target of every arrow just to love Li Yunli properly.
Li Yunli was first stunned by Ji Zhenshi’s sudden return, then startled into a daze by the abrupt emotional outburst.
“Xiao Zhen, I’ve never said you were wrong. But if love alone meant being together, would there be so many unresolved regrets in this world? Let’s be realistic, okay? I won’t be a good partner for you.”
“You’re trying to convince me again!” Ji Zhenshi gritted her teeth.
It must be hard for Li Yunli, earnestly persuading her even in sign language.
Ji Zhenshi’s voice boomed too loudly, nearly deafening. Li Yunli winced slightly.
Noticing her expression, Ji Zhenshi lowered her volume. “Where exactly are you unqualified? I don’t care that your dad’s a gambler who holes up in the mahjong parlor all day—my family’s far from perfect too. And I don’t care that you can’t speak. We communicate fine with sign language, don’t we? Li Yunli, none of it scares me. Just believe in me this once, okay?”
After a long silence, Li Yunli—her own eyes reddening—lifted her hand. “Xiao Zhen, aren’t you giving up the violin? Don’t you want to take the stage even bigger? Have you really prepared yourself for all the trouble this relationship will bring? Love isn’t just about mutual consent. I don’t want your future trapped in dilemmas. I hope you never have to face those choices.”
Ji Zhenshi didn’t care, but Li Yunli did.
She cared that she couldn’t stand with Ji Zhenshi to refute the voices. She cared that she might become a bargaining chip troubling her at some point. She cared that she couldn’t be her right-hand support—and might even become a burden.
Li Yunli didn’t see herself as inferior for being mute. She just felt she would be Ji Zhenshi’s drag.
“You’ve finally said it, huh? During work hours, I play the violin. Off hours, I date seriously. Whose business is that? I’m not committing murder or a crime—who can control me? Li Yunli, you’re nothing but a coward.”
She bit down hard on that final word—a helpless frustration at failing to sway Li Yunli.
Even so, Ji Zhenshi fought her case. “What are you afraid of? Your dad? My mom? I’m not afraid—why are you? I’ve got nothing to lose anyway. Coward. You’re really just a coward.”
The reckless Ji Zhenshi branded Li Yunli a coward without regard.
At twenty-something, she feared no hardship, charging forward with courage and resolve. But Li Yunli lacked that. That gritted-teeth “coward” was her helpless resignation to Li Yunli’s choice.
But she couldn’t very well force Li Yunli into anything, could she?
Li Yunli’s breath hitched, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye, gone in a flash.
She raised her gaze, looking at Ji Zhenshi with an almost expressionless face. “Yes, I’m a coward. So Xiao Zhen, don’t love me anymore.”
“Ah! I’m going fucking crazy.” Ji Zhenshi slammed the door and stormed off, unable to communicate further and leaving in a huff.
Only when Ji Zhenshi’s furious figure vanished from sight did Li Yunli’s taut nerves finally slacken, like a deflated balloon.
Crystalline tears finally spilled free. Li Yunli slumped over the steering wheel, weeping soundlessly, her slender shoulders trembling nonstop.
She didn’t want this. She didn’t want it like this.
But the distance between them was truly too vast. Ji Zhenshi said she feared nothing, but she was afraid.
She was just a mute—an mute who couldn’t speak.
Whenever trouble arose, it was always Ji Zhenshi shielding her from behind. She could do nothing, utterly helpless, needing Ji Zhenshi to stand in front.
Xiao Zhen, if only I could speak. At least then I could fight side by side for our future. But I can’t. I can’t even handle this small thing—how could I bear dragging you into the abyss?
I’m a coward, Xiao Zhen. Don’t love me anymore, okay?
