“No thanks, you all go ahead and have fun. Just head back to the dorm early tonight.”
Li Yunli knew she couldn’t speak, so going along wouldn’t do much good anyway. After all, she wasn’t the same age as them, and she worried she’d feel awkward around Ji Zhenshi’s friends.
Better to let them enjoy themselves without her.
Ji Zhenshi fiddled idly with Li Yunli’s pinky finger. “Fine, I won’t push. They’re way too rowdy—you wouldn’t like that kind of scene anyway.”
Whether it was her personality or her inability to speak, Li Yunli rarely mingled with others. She spent most of her time tied up at the coffee shop.
Li Yunli nodded and raised her hand in sign language. “Xiao Zhen, thank you.”
But Ji Zhenshi was staring down at her phone, texting away, and missed the gesture entirely.
Li Yunli hadn’t really expected her to see it. She lowered her hand quietly.
Ji Zhenshi, thank you for not minding that I’m a mute.
Since losing her voice, Li Yunli had slowly drifted away from her social circle. Hardly anyone invited her out for meals anymore.
She was just a mute, after all. Whether she showed up or not, it made no difference.
Yet Ji Zhenshi never seemed to care. Even without words between them, being together felt lively and full of chatter somehow.
Ji Zhenshi, thank you for never treating me like a mute.
The school celebration had wrapped up, and it was getting late. Li Yunli glanced at her phone, which had been buzzing incessantly from the start. Right on cue, another call came in.
Ji Zhenshi leaned over for a peek and instantly got it. “Ugh, so annoying. What’s with the nonstop calls?”
Li Yunli ignored the ringing. After shooting off a quick text reply, she signed to Ji Zhenshi. “It’s the welcome-home dinner for your brother. They invited me.”
But she really didn’t want to go, so she’d turned them down.
“Don’t.” Ji Zhenshi snatched Li Yunli’s phone and powered it off with swift efficiency.
Before Li Yunli could react, Ji Zhenshi had tucked the phone into her bag and patted it firmly. “Ignore them. They’ll be too wrapped up in their partying these next couple of days to bother you. Go home, eat and drink like normal. If anything comes up, call me first—or the cops.”
Ji Zhenshi knew her brother Ji Tingjun well. He’d be busy reconnecting with his old cronies for a bit and wouldn’t hassle Li Yunli right away.
That was why she felt okay heading out to play.
“Mm, got it. Have a blast tonight, Xiao Zhen.”
Li Yunli fished her wallet from her bag, pulled out a few hundred-yuan bills, and slipped them into the breast pocket of Ji Zhenshi’s shirt.
Ever since starting university, Ji Zhenshi had slipped out from under her parents’ thumb—no allowance or anything. Most of her spending money came from scholarships and gigs, with a good chunk quietly supplied by Li Yunli.
Ji Zhenshi blinked at the unexpected cash, catching her friends’ envious stares out of the corner of her eye. She opened her mouth—“I don’t…”
Li Yunli patted her chest and signed, “Now go.”
With that, she turned toward her parked car, waved a quick goodbye to Ji Zhenshi, and drove off.
Ji Zhenshi stood rooted to the spot, watching her go. Suddenly, a hand clapped her shoulder, followed by a teasing voice. “Well, well, so the Ji Genius is still a total baby. Needs sister-in-law to front her cash for a night out—worried she’ll starve? Got a curfew waiting at home too? Stay out too late and locked out?”
“You scared the crap out of me.” Ji Zhenshi had been lost in thought when the pat from behind jolted her back a step.
It was Xia Siyuan. The brief flash of fright on Ji Zhenshi’s face morphed into a scowl. “Xia Siyuan, do you sneak around like a ghost or what?”
Xia Siyuan was a piano major, same year as Ji Zhenshi. They’d met in a club, teamed up for a few shows, clicked right away, and soon become close.
“You were just zoned out hard. I’ve met mama’s girls and daddy’s girls, but a sister-in-law clinger? First time for everything.” Xia Siyuan folded her arms and peered in the direction Ji Zhenshi had been facing. Li Yunli was long gone—no sign of her at all.
No clue what had her so mesmerized.
Ji Zhenshi huffed. “She’s not my sister-in-law. And no curfew.”
She started to walk off, but the teasing got under her skin. Doubling back, she yanked the bills from her pocket and dangled them in front of Xia Siyuan. “Jealous much? Someone’s looking out for me.”
“Huh? You drunk already, talking nonsense? Keep flaunting and watch me snatch ’em.” Xia Siyuan slung an arm around Ji Zhenshi’s neck and lunged for the money.
Ji Zhenshi twisted away. “Go ahead, try.”
“Won’t. But I do know someone’s covering tonight.”
“Why me?”
“’Cause we don’t have a doting sister-in-law slipping us pocket money.”
“…”
That night, Ji Zhenshi was in the thick of it at the KTV, vibes high, when her pocket lit up with relentless ringing. She checked the caller ID, annoyance flooding her face, and chucked the phone onto the sofa.
Persistent as a bad rash.
Couldn’t they cut her some slack? One minute hating her guts, the next dragging her back by force.
“Ji Genius, either answer it, shut it off, or mute it already. Love your taste in ringtones, but blasting it ain’t helping the mood here.” Xia Siyuan rubbed her temples, the Beethoven Violin Concerto in D Major grating on her for the first time ever.
Talk about full of contradictions.
Ji Zhenshi scooped up the phone—no new texts—then set it farther off, plugging her portable charger in. She shook her head. “Nah, I’m just reminding everyone: classics never die.”
“Classics my ass—kill it now, it’s driving me nuts.” Xia Siyuan shot Ji Zhenshi a glare, dead serious.
The more time they spent together, the blunter they got.
“Better hope your prof doesn’t hear you say that.” Ji Zhenshi tuned her out, refusing to silence the ringer.
Li Yunli knew she was out and might call to check in. Unable to talk, she’d typically let it ring through, hang up, and text—or just text straight off. They’d built that rhythm over time.
Long silences made Li Yunli worry.
Once, Ji Zhenshi’s phone had died completely, sending Li Yunli into a panic. Unable to reach her or call out, she’d rushed to the dorms, then the Ji Family to grill Yang Ying. Winter chill or no, Li Yunli bolted out underdressed, her slight frame pounding the streets overnight till two in the morning.
Finally tracked her to a net cafe nearby. Ji Zhenshi still had no idea how—Li Yunli didn’t even have her contacts.
Sweet as she was, Li Yunli iced her out for a full week, apologies be damned. Cornered at last, she scribbled on paper:
—Don’t go dark on me. I worry.
After that, Ji Zhenshi kept her phone live 24/7, charger always on hand.
No yelling, but the memory of Li Yunli’s frantic worry and quiet grace afterward stung worse than any slap across the face.
How could she ever let Li Yunli fret like that again?
“Ji Zhenshi! It’s ringing again!”
“Coming.” Tucked in the corner, Ji Zhenshi’s face flickered through the KTV’s rainbow lights. The party pulsed around her, but her mood stayed heavy.
She played the carefree reveler to a T, but deep down, one weighty thing held her back.
Her brother was out of prison. Joy should’ve followed—instead, nothing.
If Yang Ying caught wind she was still out carousing instead of rushing home to greet Ji Tingjun, the tales of her heartlessness would spread like wildfire.
After a moment’s thought, Ji Zhenshi slipped outside to take the call. “Mom. What’s up?”
She knew damn well, clinging to a faint hope anyway.
Maybe asking about her performance?
“You still remember I’m your mom? Ji Zhenshi, all grown and too big for us now? Check the time—you trying to lose it?”
“Today’s your brother’s big day out, clean slate. Sister like you, done with events—why not home? Family mean nothing? That mute ain’t Ji blood; her cold shoulder’s on her. You turning on us too?”
Hopes dashed. Yang Ying’s voice boomed the second she picked up, no room for rebuttal.
Ji Zhenshi winced, holding the phone at arm’s length. Passersby shot odd looks at the noise; she drifted toward the rest area.
“Sent you a pin. Get here! Everyone’s waiting. Think you’re special?” Yang Ying barreled on, her tone ironclad. She knew Ji Zhenshi buckled for soft words, not hard ones—yet she’d never drop the mom act.
Ji Zhenshi hopped onto a railing, arms spread wide, mimicking a violin bow stroke.
Yang Ying ranted on from the speaker. “Whole family’s here. Special night—don’t sour it. Celebration’s over by now, right? Move it. What, too important for the rest of us?”
Ji Zhenshi let out a long breath, gazing into the distance with a soft chuckle.
No wonder so many picked colleges far from home post-exams. She’d dreamed of it too. But staying put held more pull than escape.
So she stayed.
Silence lingered two beats on the line. Then, slowly: “Mom, you covering cab fare?”
Yang Ying froze. She’d braced for the usual sass and abrupt hang-up.
Cab fare? Really?
A full minute ticked by. “Broke already? That mute bankrolls you, doesn’t she? Can’t even spare pocket change?”
“Guess the mute’s not spoiling you rotten after all, huh? Living hand-to-mouth. So why bother with violin?”
From Yang Ying’s view, holding back cash was the push Ji Zhenshi needed to ditch the violin—a bottomless money pit with no payoff.
She wanted her to quit while ahead.
Never figured Li Yunli would float loans, slip cash on the sly. University years, who knew how much she’d funneled Ji Zhenshi’s way.
Yang Ying despised her for it—straight-up defiance, trampling her elder authority.
Always had.
Ji Zhenshi’s gaze darkened, a chill glinting in her eyes as her arms dropped. “Yeah, I’m broke. Violin or no, doesn’t matter. You never planned to fund college anyway. Living like an orphan—how could I not be?”
Mute. The word cut deep.
She’d never uttered it to Li Yunli’s face. Too insulting, at least for someone voiceless.
Yang Ying blew up. “Ji Zhenshi! Parents alive and kicking—what orphan crap? Cursing us? Raised you eighteen years—birth and board trump all. Got no shame? What happened to my girl!”
Ji Zhenshi had always been the golden child: top grades while others goofed off, teachers’ pet, no teen angst.
When did it sour?
The day that mute first stepped through the door!
No use bickering with her own mother. Like Li Yunli said: kids arguing parents? Outsiders always blame the child, reasons be damned.
“Hold tight. I’ll be there.” Click. Hung up.
You summoned me. Hope you’re ready.
Ji Zhenshi dropped from the rail, mind made up where it hadn’t been. Back to the room for her bag, quick wave to Xia Siyuan and the crew, and out early.
The pinned spot was a haul—cab ate up a pretty penny. Ji Zhenshi eyed the wad Li Yunli had stuffed her with that afternoon, lips pressing tight before snapping her wallet shut and paying via app.
Li Yunli’s call pinged right on schedule. Ji Zhenshi halted at the restaurant entrance and picked up.
Proactive report: “Sister A-Yun, still out—not heading back anytime soon. All good, I’m near campus. No need to wait up. Get some rest.”
Li Yunli texted back. “Stay safe. Home soon. Don’t stay out too late.”
“Promise.”
Ji Zhenshi pocketed the phone. Her smile evaporated at the thought of what awaited. Nearing the private room door, raucous toasts and cheers spilled out—rowdy, electric with glee.
Familiar voices: uncles, aunties, the lot.
Thrilled, huh? Snooze-fest. Good thing Li Yunli skipped it.
Wolf pack central. Anyone stepping in loses a layer of skin. A mute? Drowned in saliva, passed around like dough.
