Chapter 48: Playing the Melody That Stirred the Heart

“No way! Why can’t I hold my Sister A-Yun’s hand?” Ji Zhenshi kept inching closer to Li Yunli. The two of them chased each other back and forth, neither willing to give in.

She hadn’t managed to hold Li Yunli’s hand for several minutes now. She missed her too much.

Li Yunli couldn’t win the argument, so she popped a segment of orange into Ji Zhenshi’s mouth and seized the chance to pull her hand free. “Xiao Zhen, sit down and rest for a bit.”

Yielding her spot to Ji Zhenshi, Li Yunli shifted to sit beside Grandma.

Ji Zhenshi, who had failed to secure a handhold, drooped her brows in resentment. She popped a cherry tomato into her mouth with a huff, then turned to Zhang Fenglan. “Grandma, what do you feel like eating later? Sister A-Yun bought a ton of groceries. How about we make your favorite steamed bass for lunch?”

“No need to fuss. Let’s eat out instead. I’ll take you all for some authentic Sichuan food.” Zhang Fenglan didn’t want Li Yunli—who rarely visited—to end up slaving away in the kitchen. She herself couldn’t help much because of her injury, so she suggested dining out.

Was she supposed to count on Ji Zhenshi?

Back when Ji Zhenshi was studying at home, she always showed up right at mealtime. Now that she was away at university, she dropped by Li Yunli’s every few days to mooch meals. Ji Zhenshi probably had zero connection to the kitchen.

She was a little slacker that Li Yunli and she had spoiled together.

Propping her chin on her hand, Ji Zhenshi said, “Looks like Grandma’s missing out on a treat today, then.”

“You’re the only one who gets treats, always running off to Yunli’s place.” Zhang Fenglan shot Ji Zhenshi a disdainful look before turning to Li Yunli. “Yunli, don’t spoil this girl. Look at her—she moved out and in no time at all, she’s skin and bones. Probably surviving on fast food for every meal, zero nutrition.”

Ji Zhenshi stuck out her neck, beaming with pride. “Yeah, I do go there.”

Now she had every right to, and no one could stop her.

“I don’t spoil her. She just eats whatever’s around. She hasn’t come by my place in ages, actually—she’s been traveling for work a lot.” Li Yunli gave a helpless little laugh, sensing that no one was listening to her explanations.

Most of the time, Li Yunli didn’t call her to stay for dinner, so Ji Zhenshi wouldn’t. Blink and she’d be gone. There was no spoiling involved.

Besides, ever since graduation, Ji Zhenshi had been swamped with work—not to mention their fight before that. She never showed up at the Coffee Shop, leaving Li Yunli with no chance to spoil her even if she wanted to.

Truth be told, it was Li Yunli who felt out of sorts without Ji Zhenshi dropping by.

“Though Xiao Zhen’s self-sufficiency does need some work,” Li Yunli added, not missing a beat.

She remembered that one time Ji Zhenshi had washed several loads of clothes, and her room was a disaster. Whenever Ji Zhenshi got busy, she neglected tidying up.

Ji Zhenshi covered her face. “That was just a freak accident. Who knew you’d show up that day?”

Mortified, Ji Zhenshi gave up on the conversation. She stood. “Forget it, I’m done talking to you all. I’m heading to my room to pack. I want to take everything I left behind this time.”

The dorm had limited space, but the apartment was plenty big for two people. Now she could take all the stuff she’d had to leave before.

“Grandma, you sit tight. I’ll go help her,” Li Yunli said, rising to follow.

The door Ji Zhenshi had once jammed locked hadn’t been secured since. Ji Zhenshi and Li Yunli entered the room one after the other.

The last time they’d been back was for Grandma’s birthday. Ji Zhenshi had done a quick cleanup and crashed for the night. It wasn’t that dirty—Grandma occasionally tidied up in here.

Whenever she missed Ji Zhenshi.

“Returning to the old haunt—does it stir anything in you, Sister A-Yun?” Ji Zhenshi turned to look at Li Yunli.

Last time, they’d been on awkward terms. This time, they were lovers.

Returning to the old haunt, but their relationship had changed beyond recognition.

Li Yunli glanced around. Familiar places always dredged up old memories, and this room held only recollections of Ji Zhenshi.

She eyed the little trinkets casually arranged on the desk as decorations and pondered seriously. “Same as before?”

Ji Zhenshi had moved to the dorm first, and Li Yunli had rented the Coffee Shop space later. These things had been packed by Li Yunli to begin with. Ji Zhenshi rarely came back—spending any free time at the Coffee Shop instead—so nothing had changed.

Three years, and it was all the same.

They’d known each other for six years now. The sixteen-year-old kid was a violinist shuttling between cities for performances without a second thought, and Li Yunli was gearing up to open a second Coffee Shop.

“No, it’s different. You’re my girlfriend now.” Ji Zhenshi corrected her earnestly.

It was as if she’d asked that question just to prompt the response.

“…”

Li Yunli gave Ji Zhenshi a helpless glance. “You’ve said that a bunch of times today already, Xiao Zhen. Are you that happy?”

“Yeah. Sister A-Yun has no idea—it’s like I won the lottery for five million bucks.” Ji Zhenshi pulled out a chair and flopped down casually, her gaze on Li Yunli sparkling with starlight as always.

She circled Li Yunli’s waist and leaned against her midriff. “Thank you for giving me the chance to love you.”

Just getting this opportunity was a miracle for Ji Zhenshi.

Li Yunli’s brow twitched faintly. She tilted Ji Zhenshi’s chin up and drew her head close.

“I’m the one who should thank you for loving me.”

Ji Zhenshi’s presence had convinced her that everything would turn out fine.

She’d defied Yang Ying for the violin, and the moment her college admissions were altered, she hadn’t cried—instead, she’d immediately contacted the grade director to demand a redo. She was always a source of warmth and strength, making Li Yunli feel like the future held promise.

“Then let’s thank each other,” Ji Zhenshi said with a laugh.

People who thanked each other like that would go far.

“Actually, I’m dying to know what exactly I said last night to change your mind,” Ji Zhenshi asked.

She truly remembered nothing.

She regretted it so much—this pivotal moment, and she’d “blacked out.”

Li Yunli smiled softly, apparently with no intention of telling her. She tilted her head up to gaze at the few remaining photos on the wall.

Mostly snapshots of the two of them, plus some candid shots Ji Zhenshi had taken: Li Yunli, Grandma, and the little milk cat from home back then.

All the unique Polaroids had been taken away, Li Yunli recalled—the ones tucked into that notebook, backs filled with heartfelt notes.

Those, she’d carefully preserved. The ones on the wall had digital copies, so they’d stayed.

“Forget those. I’ve got the digital versions—I’ll send them to you later so you can enjoy them at leisure. I know I said more than just dumb stuff last night. What else did I say? Come on, Sister A-Yun, tell me?” Ji Zhenshi positioned herself between Li Yunli and the photo wall, desperate to relive every moment from the night before.

Li Yunli looked away, feigning seriousness. “You said you were unwanted Little Cabbage.”

“…”

Ji Zhenshi ground her molars. “I know that one. I meant something else.”

Could they not bring that up?

It was too embarrassing!

“But I don’t know how to put it,” Li Yunli said, brow furrowing slightly.

Should she say that Ji Zhenshi had tearfully pleaded, “Love me, okay?” Or that the moon hanging over Ji Zhenshi’s chest had poured out all her deep affection on her behalf?

Li Yunli didn’t know how to phrase it, but she’d never forget a single frame.

It was Ji Zhenshi, at the age when dignity mattered most, humbly begging for a chance. It was that single tear scorching her cheek the second their lips met. She was so resolute and sincere that Li Yunli had surrendered completely.

Sensing Li Yunli’s reluctance, Ji Zhenshi stopped pressing. “Fine, as long as the outcome’s good.”

She stepped aside to let Li Yunli keep admiring the photos. Ji Zhenshi sat quietly in the chair, watching her. Neither spoke. In the tranquil silence, unspoken affection flowed between them.

“Sister A-Yun, want me to play the violin for you? You used to sit on the bed watching me practice all the time. It’s been so long since you’ve seen me play.” The idea struck Ji Zhenshi on a whim.

Back in school, she only had time for violin at night. Li Yunli had been prepping the Coffee Shop then—meticulously researching due to her health and tight budget. She’d given the desk to Ji Zhenshi for homework and sat on the bed reviewing lessons and taking notes.

They’d been quietly focused, neither disturbing the other.

After homework, Ji Zhenshi would toss her pen, swing onto the desk with one leg propped on the stool—a cool, effortless lift of her chin, a wink at Li Yunli, then practice.

Occasional glances up from Li Yunli would catch her under the dim light: tousled hair framing stunning features, those long, narrow willow eyes, the high nose sometimes bridged by half-rim glasses. Her face had already sharpened by then—casual yet commanding.

The desk lamp behind her created a perfect halo. She’d stare unwavering at Li Yunli, playing piece after piece. The girl’s passion never dulled from rote practice. Li Yunli had watched her rise all the way to a top music academy.

Perhaps that’s when Li Yunli’s heart had first stirred. She only knew Ji Zhenshi brought her joy—and years later, the memory remained vivid.

“I’ve watched you. I saw your accompaniment at the music festival. Our Xiao Zhen’s getting so poised.”

Every stage Ji Zhenshi appeared on—even as background—Li Yunli had scoured for footage. She hadn’t missed one.

Ji Zhenshi picked up the violin and examined it without looking at Li Yunli. Teasingly, she said, “Yeah, Sister A-Yun’s so tsundere about it, even making a compilation of my performances. I’m touched.”

So during those months apart, Li Yunli had quietly kept tabs on her—one face in the sea of audience members.

“…”

Li Yunli paused, then remembered the tablet in the hospital room. Ji Zhenshi must have cracked her password.

Grinning, Ji Zhenshi said, “Sister A-Yun, screens can’t compare to live. Let me play you a live version.”

“Mm. It’s been ages since Xiao Zhen’s played violin in front of me. But this one’s been sitting unused—the tuning pegs are stuck. Can you even play it?” Li Yunli nodded.

The bed wasn’t an option now, so she stood half a meter away, smiling warmly at Ji Zhenshi.

This time, Ji Zhenshi didn’t perch on the desk. She leaned lightly against it, body tilting forward. “No worries. I tuned it last time I was home. It’ll do. If it goes sharp, it’s not my skill—Sister A-Yun won’t mind anyway.”

Ji Zhenshi had wiped the violin clean with damp tissues; the thin layer of dust was gone. She fiddled with the tuning for a bit, confirmed it was passable, then arched a brow at Li Yunli proudly. “Sister A-Yun, you’re my only audience. How about a kiss as my performance fee?”

She was hopelessly addicted to kissing Li Yunli.

Li Yunli placed a hand on her shoulder, holding her at bay. Her lips curved faintly. “Our Xiao Zhen charges fees now?”

So smug, Ji Zhenshi.

“My fees are cheap now, but what if concert halls start competing for me later? You’ve gotten years of free shows. Let me collect once—it’s not much.” Ji Zhenshi wheedled logically, relentlessly trying to steal a kiss.

Her deep, affectionate eyes brimmed with eager stars, impossible to refuse.

Li Yunli lowered her gaze. The girl leaned in for her, her smile a swirling vortex drawing her under.

She was more than willing.

Li Yunli hooked Ji Zhenshi’s chin, gazing at her indulgently. “Good child, don’t get too greedy or you might lose out.”

“I’m willing to lose, as long as Sister A-Yun kisses me.” The words tumbled from Ji Zhenshi.

Both were utterly willing.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“If you don’t play, I’m leaving.”

“Hmph.”

Ji Zhenshi huffed in dissatisfaction but failed to snag a kiss in the end.

With her sole audience threatening to leave, she had no choice. She raised the violin to her shoulder and drew the bow across the strings with her left hand.

The same piece she’d confessed with on piano, now on violin. This time, with hearts laid bare, Ji Zhenshi’s confession finally reached its other star.

Amid the rise and fall, it played the melody that stirred the heart.

Love always permeated this cramped, humble room—woven into Ji Zhenshi’s notes, into every gaze Li Yunli cast her way. Their shared secret.

Ji Zhenshi’s secret was Li Yunli. Li Yunli’s secret was her unwitting infatuation.

The elegant line of her jaw, those long legs—Ji Zhenshi wielded her effortless charisma with perfect control. “Li Yunli, I love you. For the rest of my life, till death do us part.”

Youthful love was bold, unafraid to declare itself. On graduation day, only Ji Zhenshi had heard that “I love you.” Today, with the same piece ending, she finally said it to Li Yunli’s face—baring her racing heart, every word a repeated “I love you.”

Ji Zhenshi switched the bow to her right hand. Her left—veins still bulging from playing—gripped the back of Li Yunli’s neck. She kissed her fiercely, urgently, nipping at her soft lips tinged with faint lipstick.

Oxygen stolen in a breath, Ji Zhenshi’s kiss lacked finesse or gentleness, brimming with raw possession.

She’d smudged the lipstick and was toying with her lower lip.

No longer the little crybaby who teared up at light kisses—she was mischievous now.

The culprit grinned wickedly. “Sister A-Yun, no need to reply. One kiss is enough. And your exclusive performance? Never raising prices.”

From last night till now, Li Yunli had been kissed multiple times, but Ji Zhenshi always followed with sweet words that deflated any annoyance. She could only indulge her.

“You’re really good at kissing now.” Li Yunli glared half-heartedly, flustered and dazed from the kiss. She dipped her head slightly to steady herself.

That hand, charged with tension, gently brushed the gloss from Li Yunli’s lip corner. Ji Zhenshi’s brow lifted. “Some things come naturally.”

So smug now that she’d gotten her wish.

Her fingertip grazing the still-burning lips, Li Yunli ignored the triumphant Ji Zhenshi and cleared her throat. “Which things do you want to take?”

Hadn’t she come in to pack?

Ji Zhenshi spread her arms wide. “Everything. All the memories with Sister A-Yun.”

This little room held too much. She wanted it all.

“Xiao Zhen’s so greedy.”

Ji Zhenshi hugged Li Yunli, pressing a soft kiss to her earlobe before murmuring, “Just once in this lifetime—possessing Sister A-Yun.”