This name appeared frequently in Li Yunli’s relationship network. Lin Qi glanced at her computer screen. “Ji Zhenshi? The sister of the man you were almost married to?”
“Mm.”
What kind of plot was this?
Lin Qi had been a psychologist for so many years, but this was the first time she’d encountered such a taboo relationship in real life. The direction of this story was truly impossible to predict.
“Xiao Zhen has done so much for me. I’m deeply touched.” Li Yunli pulled out the notebook from her bag and flipped to a page. Inside was a Polaroid of Ji Zhenshi taken during the school celebration. On the back of the photo, she’d written:
{Xiao Zhen is so free. I’ll always envy people like that. My gaze can’t help but linger on them.}
“In truth, it took me a while to realize it. My feelings for Xiao Zhen go beyond envy—they’re admiration. I like people like her. She’s full of passion for life, always so free and fervent. I love being around someone like that. She fulfills every fantasy I have about a life partner. She’s my ideal type.”
Li Yunli handed the photo to Lin Qi, as if sharing a treasure she’d cherished for a long time.
For Ji Zhenshi’s sake—and to restore her own health—Li Yunli was pushing past all her barriers, sharing her private romance with the world for the first time.
Lin Qi examined the photo. Due to the Polaroid’s low resolution, she couldn’t make out the person on stage clearly, only the blurry outline of someone holding a violin with arms spread wide, smiling wildly.
It must have been right after the performance ended.
Her gaze fell on Li Yunli’s elegant handwriting, and Lin Qi nodded. “Being in love has really helped your recovery. I’ve suggested before that you try connecting with more people—maybe start a romance or make a close friend. You said back then that you weren’t considering personal feelings. Now it seems like perhaps you hadn’t realized your emotions for her yet, or maybe you had and were running from them.”
Someone as considerate and independent as Li Yunli would never want to become a so-called “burden.” And there was the complicated relationship between her and Ji Zhenshi. She couldn’t accept being estranged from her, so she’d buried her feelings so deeply that no one noticed.
How could someone like that not inspire pity and affection?
“I’m very timid. Xiao Zhen is the brave one. We argued about this for a long time, but she persisted, and I’m so grateful for that.” Li Yunli took the photo back. A quiet longing lingered in her eyes as her fingertip brushed across the face in the image, her brows and eyes curving into an unconscious smile.
She was timid; Ji Zhenshi was brave.
In the end, the free wind—thanks to her bravery—had kissed that stubborn tree.
Lin Qi nodded. “So, your visit today is because of her too? Or mostly because of her?”
With encouragement and an urgent desire, Li Yunli would find the strength to walk through that darkness alone.
She wanted to become better.
“Mm. Xiao Zhen is an exceptional person. She’s incredibly stubborn too—she never believes in fate. She fights with everything she has for what she wants. So, I don’t believe in fate either. Even if hope is slim or it’s all for nothing, I have to try.” Li Yunli’s gaze shifted slightly, and she smiled faintly.
Lin Qi had asked about Li Yunli, but every word from her lips was about Ji Zhenshi.
Perhaps because Li Yunli was so resolute, Lin Qi’s eyes darkened a touch. “Good. Having that mindset is an excellent start. Now, step back into the past as an observer. What do you see?”
Li Yunli walked down that familiar yet strange alley again, facing the thin mist and the mud underfoot. At the end waited that wooden door, silently awaiting her arrival.
Standing before it, an invisible pressure crashed over her. She’d failed countless times right there, lacking the courage to push it open. In the end, she’d only tormented herself into defeat.
What was she afraid of?
She feared her mother’s despairing eyes, her mother clad in rags, her mother unhesitatingly downing that bottle of poison.
Li Yunli reached out tentatively. Suddenly, harsh noises erupted in her ears—shrieks amid the clamor, her mother’s sobs ringing loudest.
Her breathing quickened into gasps. She clutched her aching chest and once again forced her hand down, away from the door.
But then Ji Zhenshi’s room floated into her mind unbidden—her leaning against the desk, playing the violin. That melody drifted through her memories, soothing her panic just a little.
She remembered how, when the music ended, the girl had kissed her without restraint. Their breaths mingled, her unique scent enveloping Li Yunli, the tingle of her tongue endlessly lingering.
Gritting her teeth, Li Yunli endured the pain and shoved the door open.
A blank whiteness filled her vision. Nothing was there—only the clamor buried deep in her memories echoed in her ears.
Li Yunli tried to open her mouth, but the vibration in her vocal cords brought no sound.
…
Much later, Li Yunli opened her sweat-drenched eyes to meet Lin Qi’s gaze. The light in her own eyes had dimmed, as if declaring the session a failure.
“You pushed open that door, but you still won’t let the images from deep inside resurface. You’re still afraid, unable to face that version of yourself—even as an observer.” Lin Qi handed her a glass of water and spoke calmly.
It was the trauma she’d lived through—how could she easily revisit it as a detached bystander?
“Thank you.” Li Yunli took the cup with trembling hands, her body feeling utterly drained.
Years of nightmares had taken root. Uprooting them was beyond her power.
Li Yunli slowly calmed her emotions and tried to speak.
But whether in the dream or reality, she couldn’t make a sound.
“I’m sorry. I still can’t overcome the fear.” Li Yunli’s face flushed red as she looked at Lin Qi with apologetic eyes.
The scenes she’d avoided for years were now being forced upon her—a mental torment like no other.
She’d been only twelve then. Every day since had been about healing from that one.
Lin Qi jotted a quick “NO” with her pen, closed the folder, and stood. “No need to apologize. It’s not for nothing, though. At least you’re willing to face the nightmare inside. Being able to face it means you’re one step closer to overcoming it—and it shows even greater trust in me. Don’t lose heart. Everything is getting better.”
She handed back the medical record card, signaling the end of this failed therapy session.
After catching her breath, Li Yunli took the card with both hands. “Thank you. Let’s schedule the next one. I don’t think it’ll be too far off.”
Lin Qi looked up in surprise. “The next one?”
Li Yunli’s visits were always spaced far apart—each one like enduring a brutal mental ordeal, requiring weeks of recovery before she’d return.
She’d never before wanted to set the next appointment right after finishing one.
She was truly desperate now, profoundly changed.
That girl must mean the world to her.
With confirmation, Lin Qi checked her schedule. “My near-term slots are full—about ten days out. We can confirm the exact time then. That work?”
“Mm.” Li Yunli slung her bag over her shoulder. “See you then, Doctor Lin.”
“Oh, Miss Li—if you want to conquer the fear sooner, I suggest bringing her next time.” Lin Qi stopped Li Yunli as she turned to leave.
Li Yunli paused, seeming to consider it seriously. “She’s busy. I can come alone.”
She didn’t want Ji Zhenshi to see her in such a wretched state.
Even Ji Zhenshi didn’t know the details of that past event. Li Yunli had hidden all the darkness away by herself, letting no one see it.
“Of course. Up to you.”
“Mm.”
Li Yunli opened the door and pressed her brow, a touch of melancholy settling in.
A sudden exhaustion washed over her, as if she’d done a great deal.
Her phone buzzed in her bag. She’d missed two calls from Xiao Ning—probably something at the coffee shop.
Li Yunli quickened her pace to head back and check.
She walked briskly and, rounding the corner, saw Tang Xien emerging from a room. She glanced at the door plate confirming it was a psychologist’s office, and since Li Yunli was alone, it seemed she was the patient.
Did Tang Xien have psychological issues too?
She didn’t seem like the type—or someone who’d smoke sullenly in a stairwell.
Li Yunli hurriedly looked away, with no desire for further interaction.
Tang Xien didn’t even know her; Li Yunli only knew of her because of Ji Zhenshi.
…
Coffee Shop
Li Yunli had risen especially early that day. She flipped open her notebook to the prepared recipes and busied herself making a lavish lunch.
She carefully packed a portion and left a note for Xiao Ning: “I’ll be out at noon to drop by Xiao Zhen’s company. Mind the shop. Lunch is on the table for you.”
Xiao Ning stared at the table of colorful, aromatic dishes and sighed inwardly. Li Yunli, you’re my one true boss. I’ll defend this place to the death, pour my heart’s blood into the coffee shop!
Where else could you find a boss like her?
Rich, low-maintenance, great personality, stunning looks fit for public halls or kitchens. Just gazing at her face was eye candy enough, and sometimes she even treated them to feasts like this.
“Xiao Ji must’ve saved the galaxy in her past life.”
Envy was getting old. A special loving lunch made just for her, delivered right to the door. Xiao Ning squinted, recalling how a few months back, it was Ji Zhenshi who’d been slapped.
She hadn’t known what happened upstairs, but the handprint on Ji Zhenshi’s face was unmistakable. Xiao Ning had felt sorry then—Li Yunli doted on her so much, yet she’d struck her. Clearly, there was still a rift.
The sister of her ex-fiancé—how could that mix possibly be smooth?
But who would’ve thought they’d reconcile so quickly?
Shaking her head, Xiao Ning murmured, “They break up and make up like this—they must love each other too much. No fight can tear them apart.”
In truth, Ji Zhenshi had just wrapped a company-scheduled concert tour. This time, she hadn’t gone with Tang Xien; she’d rehearsed alone with the band out of town for three or four days before returning.
The round trip took a week. No sooner had she gotten back than Tang Xien dragged her into prep for a competition next month.
Ji Zhenshi had whined about missing her. Li Yunli hadn’t seen her in days either, so she took her lunch break to visit the crybaby.
Once her crybaby nature was exposed, Ji Zhenshi didn’t even try hiding it. Video calls always ended in tears; seeing her made her want to cry, hunger made her crave Li Yunli’s cooking and cry, insomnia brought thoughts of her and tears.
Sometimes Li Yunli couldn’t help laughing at her.
She just wanted to pinch those cheeks—so obedient and pitiful.
With Tang Xien still around, Li Yunli didn’t go up directly. Instead, she called Ji Zhenshi to come down.
“Sister A-Yun, I missed you so much!” Ji Zhenshi flung herself into Li Yunli’s arms, hugging her with 100% intensity and coquettishly softening her voice.
Sister A-Yun’s hugs were still the warmest. Who could resist such a fragrant, soft big sister?
Li Yunli ruffled her hair, their bodies pressed close. The thin short-sleeved shirt did nothing to block the warmth flooding into Li Yunli’s chest.
Her fine brows furrowed slightly. “Why are you wearing so little?”
Just a single layer on top.
Li Yunli shrugged off her jacket. Ji Zhenshi burrowed in, bringing them even closer.
Ji Zhenshi lowered her eyes slightly, gazing at the face she’d longed for, now inches away. The softness in her brows and eyes was a tender paradise she happily drowned in.
She swallowed involuntarily, tightening her arms to pull her even nearer. “There’s AC upstairs. I took off my jacket while practicing violin. Sister A-Yun, I want to kiss you.”
Before the words fully landed, the little furnace—face still damp with thin sweat—nuzzled into her neck and shoulder. Li Yunli’s lips curved in amusement before they were eagerly captured.
Another possessive kiss. Her tongue slipped in impatiently, stirring a pool of spring water—not satisfied, it teasingly pinned Li Yunli’s, denying her any breath.
In seconds, pink flushed Li Yunli’s cheeks, spreading to her neck.
Purely from the brazen thief stealing her oxygen.
The girl’s passion, pent up from days apart, enveloped her all at once. Li Yunli passively endured the unreasonable onslaught.
But then Ji Zhenshi’s palm slid downward, landing on her exquisitely sensitive waist. Li Yunli had to push at the girl before her.
“Stop fooling around. Aren’t you hungry?” Li Yunli caught her hand.
“I am hungry, but Sister A-Yun satisfies me best.” Ji Zhenshi sniffed Li Yunli’s scent. “You smell amazing today. Mind sharing your perfume?”
“Bought it in-store. We’ll pick some up next time we shop.” Li Yunli released her and turned to grab a denim jacket from the trunk.
She draped it over Ji Zhenshi’s shoulders, then smiling softly, pinched her cheek.
She’d wanted to do that during their video calls. The feel was perfect.
“Wait, can’t I just get some by hugging more?” Ji Zhenshi slipped into the jacket and reached for another embrace.
Li Yunli held up a hand to block her. “Food first.”
This girl was clearly after cuddles, not lunch.
“Fine, then let’s head up. Teacher Tang left, so the practice room’s mine alone this afternoon. We can eat inside.” Ji Zhenshi laced her fingers with Li Yunli’s, and they walked hand in hand upstairs.
“Xiao Zhen, is it okay for us like this?”
People came and went. Though no one said anything, Li Yunli worried it might affect Ji Zhenshi’s career.
She’d just entered the industry—better not be too flashy.
Ji Zhenshi swung their joined hands, her brows arching playfully. “No problem. My contract doesn’t restrict dating. If I could, I’d tell everyone: my girlfriend is Sister A-Yun.”
Back then, even squeezed by unfair profit splits, Ji Zhenshi had made only one demand: no limits on her personal life.
She hadn’t known when—or if—she’d confess to Li Yunli, or if they’d end up together. She was just leaving room for them, ensuring work wouldn’t be a barrier someday.
With odds so slim, Ji Zhenshi had still made these likely futile efforts, pouring full sincerity into their bond.
