Chapter 43: You’re a Good Baby

The next day, inside the car heading to the venue.

Tang Xien and Ji Zhenshi sat on opposite sides of the business van, with no one speaking. An eerie silence hung in the air.

Ji Zhenshi looked like she was in a foul mood, while Tang Xien’s face remained as expressionless as ever. The air around them crackled with tension.

Ji Zhenshi’s current status wasn’t high enough to warrant an assistant or anything like that. Zheng Siqi claimed he had high hopes for her, but in reality, most of her schedule was dictated by Tang Xien. There wasn’t even a professional branding or promotion plan in place for her.

In a way, Tang Xien had taken Ji Zhenshi under her wing and was truly responsible for all her performance activities.

After dumping her on Tang Xien, Zheng Siqi had washed his hands of the matter.

Ji Zhenshi stared out the window absentmindedly, her hand unconsciously clutching the small fortune pouch zipped to her backpack. Her mind was heavy with worries.

“Ji Zhenshi, this should be your first time performing live in front of thousands, right? Are you prepared?” Tang Xien asked flatly.

Sensing Ji Zhenshi’s distraction, Tang Xien assumed it was nerves.

Ji Zhenshi turned her head, glanced at the earbuds in Tang Xien’s ears, and forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “There were already thousands in the audience at the school celebration, though I wasn’t alone on stage back then. I’m not nervous, Teacher Tang. No need to worry about my condition.”

She had absolute control over the violin. No matter how many eyes were on her, she could flawlessly execute the leaps of her fingertips.

It was just that she’d barely slept the night before, leaving her with a pounding headache. The contradiction of mental exhaustion without the option to rest gnawed at her.

Tang Xien slowly opened her eyes and gave Ji Zhenshi a once-over. “Your condition makes it hard not to worry. Did you not sleep well last night?”

The exhaustion was visible to the naked eye; her mental state looked off.

It was rare to see Ji Zhenshi so listless, so Tang Xien asked one more question than usual.

“I’m fine, Teacher Tang. Don’t worry.”

“I’m worried you’ll mess up on stage and make me lose face. I’ve been coaching you for months now, and you even rehearsed yesterday. If you screw up in a setting like this, people will question my abilities more than yours.”

“…”

Ji Zhenshi couldn’t help turning her head to stare at Tang Xien. The woman always spoke so bluntly, without a shred of mercy.

It refreshed Ji Zhenshi’s understanding of just how cold-blooded she could be.

Baring eight teeth in a bright smile, she replied, “I’m not nervous, and I’ll give it my all, so Teacher Tang doesn’t need to worry just yet.”

“Mm.” Tang Xien’s expression didn’t change as she looked away and fell silent.

In reality, Ji Zhenshi’s performance was rock-solid— even better than the rehearsal the day before. Though she was only a guest performer, she ignited the crowd’s energy and delivered a stunning show.

Whenever Ji Zhenshi stepped onto a stage, she unleashed her true nature.

Tonight, the spotlight granted her a single beam of glory, and she bloomed wildly beneath it—like a girl fearless of the cold glare, or a poetic spring bursting with flowers in full symphony.

Ji Zhenshi played two pieces back-to-back, each in a wildly different style.

Elegance and passion coexisted, the contradictions within her forging something utterly unique.

As the spotlight faded, Ji Zhenshi kissed her violin in the darkness and whispered to herself.

“I will have my own audience and my own stage someday.”

Ji Zhenshi stepped offstage. Tang Xien, seated in the front row off to the side, watched her descend. A faint smile touched the usually impassive woman’s face. “Not bad.”

She had seen it—the reverent kiss Ji Zhenshi planted on her violin after the lights dimmed.

She truly loved the violin and reveled in everything the stage offered.

So Tang Xien suddenly found herself looking forward to the sight of Ji Zhenshi kissing her violin under the lights, letting everyone witness her burning passion for it.

Ji Zhenshi’s path forward was unwavering; she always knew exactly what she wanted.

“Thanks. I wouldn’t dare let down Teacher Tang’s trust. After all, making you lose face would be a grave sin on my part.” Ji Zhenshi kept her head down as she packed up her violin, finally exhaling in relief.

She’d been sleepless the night before. Even if she’d sounded confident in front of Tang Xien, deep down she’d feared she couldn’t deliver her best to the audience.

At least there had been no mistakes.

Tang Xien crossed her long legs and gazed at Ji Zhenshi’s profile with a half-smile, half-frown as it nearly vanished into the purple ambient lights. Only then did she realize this girl resembled no one else—she was simply, uniquely herself.

No longer interested in the stage, Tang Xien turned her head with genuine curiosity. “For you, is it more important not to let me down, or to deliver a perfect performance?”

Her tone was casual, almost flippant, without much sincerity.

Ji Zhenshi paused in her packing and blurted out without thinking.

“The latter. But isn’t that what you want too?”

Tang Xien didn’t reply, but a hint of approval flickered in her eyes.

Perhaps this girl really was an unexpected gem.

Even though the company had foisted her on Tang Xien, she found herself surprisingly satisfied.

Ji Zhenshi sat down in the seat next to Tang Xien. The concert was nearing its end, and the venue thrummed with electric energy.

The two of them, side by side amid the frenzy, felt an odd sense of calm.

After a long silence, Ji Zhenshi spoke up. “Actually, Teacher Tang doesn’t care at all if I make you lose face, does she?”

Tang Xien glanced sideways. “Then what do I care about?”

“For you, every piece on stage has to approach perfection to count as a real performance. Your strict standards for yourself end up demanding the same from me.” She paused and smiled. “Thanks. You’re starting to treat me like a real student.”

She knew Tang Xien was her first true teacher in every sense—not just for violin technique, but for proper mentorship.

Tang Xien let out a soft hum but said nothing, though the corners of her mouth curved upward slightly.

After the show, Ji Zhenshi and Tang Xien joined the event organizers for dinner before heading back. By the time a cab dropped her off at the apartment, it was past ten. As expected, the place was deathly quiet when she opened the door. Xia Siyuan was probably holed up in her room binge-watching dramas.

Ji Zhenshi sank onto the sofa, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. All the exhaustion from playing the professional role melted away, and her mind inevitably drifted back to last night’s events.

The moment Ji Zhenshi let her guard down even slightly, memories of Li Yunli came crashing in, trapping her completely.

Why had she been so angry last night?

Did she really not understand Li Yunli’s concerns?

They both knew the truth, yet Li Yunli had still pushed her toward the edge of a cliff, denying her even a sliver of hope.

With a faint hope, Ji Zhenshi checked her phone. No new messages.

She let out a self-mocking laugh. Overthinking wasn’t a good habit.

She had a feeling she’d be sleepless again tonight, so after some hesitation, she pulled a beer from the fridge, hoping the alcohol would knock her out.

If she kept pulling all-nighters, would she just drop dead?

But when she did sleep, nightmares came. Sleeping pills didn’t even help anymore.

Ji Zhenshi sneered at herself. She was in deep.

She eyed the chilled beer for a moment.

Beer was too weak. What if she finished it and felt even more wired?

No, she couldn’t take chances with her body.

Ji Zhenshi turned and grabbed a bottle of fruit-flavored baijiu instead. She stuck in a straw, sipping it as she headed to her room.

Her tolerance had always been decent, but fearing one bottle wouldn’t be enough, she doubled back for two more.

When she got ruthless, she didn’t even spare her own body.

The sunflowers on the windowsill had long since wilted, drooping lifelessly without water. It was only a matter of time before they died—hardly surprising.

Back in her room, Ji Zhenshi finally let her emotions run free. She crouched by the bed, hugging the pot of sunflowers as she sat cross-legged. With utmost seriousness, she turned the pot to face her and patted the flower’s head.

“You’re a good baby.”

The next second, the sunflower snapped clean off and tumbled onto Ji Zhenshi’s lap.

“…”

Ji Zhenshi froze for a few seconds, then picked up the flower and gently placed it back in the pot. “Sorry, I didn’t take good care of you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have ended up like this.”

It wasn’t clear if she was talking to the flower or using it to send a message to someone else. Either way, Ji Zhenshi started muttering to herself.

“You think if I hadn’t kissed you, none of this would have happened?”

“But I was too greedy. I sneaked kisses from you… twice, three times maybe. Actually, I even stole one on your earlobe in the bathroom. Bet you didn’t see that coming. I’m just that greedy. You were clearly exhausted then, but kissing your earlobe made my heart race even more.”

“Three times. I kissed you three times, and every one was unforgettable. Do you know how fast my heart was pounding? In that moment, I really felt like the happiest person in the world. I shouldn’t have been greedy, telling myself each time it was the last. It had to be the last. But then the next time, I’d use the same excuse to fool myself. I’m just a self-deluding lunatic.”

“Why can’t it be me? I know there are huge hurdles, but that’s okay—we could face them together. You’re not even giving me a chance. What am I supposed to do? Pretend nothing happened and go back to how things were? But I’m a terrible actor. I can’t do it.”

“Sorry, I messed it up. I’m not secure enough for you yet. But please don’t push me away. Don’t be with anyone else.”

“I met you at sixteen. That youthful crush, I buried deep inside, too scared to let a hint slip. Too afraid anyone would laugh it off as a joke. But now I’m twenty-two. I’ve tried so hard to show you I’ve grown up, that my love for you is serious.”

“You like me too, don’t you?”

Ji Zhenshi felt ridiculous even as she finished spilling her heart to a pot of sunflowers.

Her eyelids grew heavier, and she felt tears welling up again unbidden.

They streamed down endlessly, smearing her makeup. Before she knew it, she’d drained two bottles of fruit baijiu. Ji Zhenshi shook the empty bottle, the straw still in her mouth.

“Boring. Finished it and still not sleepy. Xia Siyuan must’ve bought fakes again.”

Forcing herself to stand, Ji Zhenshi prepared to remove her makeup and crash.

She stumbled into the dark bathroom and suddenly squatted down.

“Hey, Ji Zhenshi, am I seeing this right? You’re drinking baijiu through a straw?” Xia Siyuan opened the door to use the bathroom and spotted Ji Zhenshi huddled on the toilet floor.

It was creepy enough in the dead of night with no lights on. Xia Siyuan approached cautiously, only to discover the girl clutching a bottle of fruit liquor—baijiu, no less!—sipping it like soda through a straw.

Xia Siyuan blinked, flicked on the light. “Have you lost your mind? Drinking like that—you’re gonna kill yourself! When did you get back? What are you doing squatting here? Don’t pull this ghost story crap on me at midnight. I don’t believe in that stuff—don’t even try to scare me.”

For a split second, she doubted her own eyes, then was twice shocked by the pitiful, mushroom-like figure squatting there. Who said roommates weren’t scary?

Was there anything weirder than finding your roommate in the dark, squatting in the bathroom and boozing at this hour? She’d nearly jumped out of her skin.

Ji Zhenshi didn’t respond. Xia Siyuan raised her voice. “Ji Zhenshi! What the hell are you doing?”

“Drinking water.” Ji Zhenshi mumbled carelessly, hugging her knees on the floor, lost in thought.

The room spun around her. Ji Zhenshi desperately wanted to puke but couldn’t. Squatting there, curled into a ball, was the only way to keep from toppling over.

Drinking water!?

Xia Siyuan leaned in for a closer look. Ji Zhenshi was a snotty, tear-streaked mess, looking like she’d suffered the world’s greatest injustice.

Anyone who didn’t know better might think Xia Siyuan had abused her roommate.

“…”

Xia Siyuan squatted down and sniffed. She was dead certain it was booze. Ji Zhenshi was just talking nonsense.

She was good and drunk—rambling incoherently.

“And crying too? Weren’t you a guest performer tonight? Did you bomb the show or what?” Xia Siyuan reached for the bottle, but Ji Zhenshi clutched it like a lifeline, refusing to let go.

Her grip was shockingly strong. Exhausted from tugging, Xia Siyuan gave up. “Fine, fine, keep drinking your ‘water.’ Is this… did you oversleep and miss your slot?”

“No.” Ji Zhenshi obediently shook her head, her bloodshot eyes growing hazier.

Xia Siyuan paused, then leaned in with dead-serious intensity. “Tang Xien didn’t… use some inhumane torture on you, did she?”

Even if Ji Zhenshi had screwed up and embarrassed her, this was too much. That sunny kid—look what it’d been reduced to.

Ji Zhenshi cracked her eyes open and swatted away Xia Siyuan’s looming face. “No. What kinda nonsense is that?”

Did Tang Xien really have such a violent reputation?

Good thing she herself was oblivious.

“Then say something that isn’t nonsense! Keep this up and I’m calling Yunli Sis. You’re freaking me out—I’m about to die of fright here.” Xia Siyuan frowned, zero patience left for the drunkard. She prodded Ji Zhenshi’s shoulder, hoping to snap her out of it.

How much had she drunk? What if something happened after chugging like that?

She’d promised Li Yunli to keep an eye on Ji Zhenshi and call if anything came up.

So… should she call or not?

“Hey, get up.” This time, Xia Siyuan grabbed her arm and actually hauled her upright. Ji Zhenshi towered over her a bit, and they locked eyes. Xia Siyuan hadn’t expected to lift her so easily.

She shrank back defensively, fearing a drunken punch.

But the next second, she watched in disbelief as Ji Zhenshi’s lips quivered pitifully, tears flowing nonstop.

Was Ji Zhenshi made of water?

“Do I look that untrustworthy?”

“Obviously.”

One dared to ask, the other dared to answer—and bluntly at that.

“You’re a drunk—what’s trustworthy about you? Asking questions that just invite humiliation.” Xia Siyuan supported her, steering her back toward the bedroom.

No more questions. It wasn’t work-related; this had to be some old baggage. Probably only Li Yunli could make Ji Zhenshi this pathetic, zero dignity left.

After all this time, had they made zero progress?