Chapter 55: My Lover’s Untimely Death

At the competition venue.

Zheng Siqi stood backstage, chatting idly with some acquaintances. Spotting Ji Zhenshi alone in the waiting area, he waved her over. “Ji Zhenshi, come here. I’ve got something for you.”

Ji Zhenshi had noticed Zheng Siqi ages ago—his flashy outfit made him stand out in any crowd. But on some gut level, she just didn’t like the guy, so she hadn’t bothered going over to say hi.

Instead, she’d kept a low profile, carefully tuning her violin. When she heard his voice, she frowned slightly and dragged her feet as she approached. “What is it?”

Zheng Siqi never sought her out unless he wanted something, and it was never good.

“Feeling confident?” he asked.

“Not bad,” she replied.

Their exchange sputtered out right there, with zero interest in continuing.

Especially for Ji Zhenshi—she just wished he’d spit it out. She hated having to weigh every single word around him.

“Hmm, you seem pretty sure of yourself. Good. Not surprising, coming from Tang Xien’s student. Oh, by the way, did you know her contract with the company expires at the end of the month?” When Ji Zhenshi stayed silent, Zheng Siqi lifted his chin and cut straight to the chase.

Tang Xien hadn’t accepted any of the company’s offers. Months of negotiations had fallen through; she’d made up her mind to leave, no matter how generous the terms.

That meant she wouldn’t take any more jobs arranged by the company or participate in collaborations under their banner.

Her mentoring stint with Ji Zhenshi was over. From here on out, it was all on Ji Zhenshi to pave her own path.

Ji Zhenshi flicked up her eyelids, her fingers tightening uncomfortably around the lanyard of her contestant badge. “No idea. Teacher Tang hasn’t mentioned it to me.”

Tang Xien never discussed anything outside of lessons. They were kindred spirits, teacher and student, maintaining a delicate balance of mutual disinterest in each other’s personal lives.

It made sense that Tang Xien wouldn’t tell her. After all, Ji Zhenshi had been foisted on her by the company—just another chore. A heads-up on her last day would suffice.

Still, Tang Xien was leaving.

A pang tightened in Ji Zhenshi’s chest, leaving her unsettled.

Zheng Siqi patted her shoulder, then spoke at a leisurely pace. “Well, I’ll give you a heads-up, then. After Tang Xien leaves, you’ll keep up your current performance schedule. But the company won’t assign you an assistant or manager for now. You’ll have to fight for opportunities yourself. Of course, if we have prime gigs, we’ll consider you first. We’re optimistic about your prospects, after all.”

In other words: sink or swim. It was up to her to grab what she could.

“What do you mean?” Ji Zhenshi’s brow furrowed as she silently stepped back, repelled by his touch.

Once she’d put some distance between them, she looked up again. “I get not assigning staff—I’m not at that level yet. But fighting for opportunities myself? What does that imply?”

Was the company just taking her money without delivering? Or did they expect her to entertain clients—maybe worse?

Both were likely. A guy like Zheng Siqi would do anything for a buck.

The contract they’d shoved at her hadn’t even been fully disclosed. They’d slashed her work hours and strong-armed her into unpaid gigs, all to benefit the company.

That explained her brutal early months, skipping meals just to keep up. She’d only learned later about the solo practice room—it was Tang Xien’s. Most of her gigs had come through Tang Xien’s connections.

The company hadn’t honored the contract, yet they’d skimmed their cut from every payout. She’d been too focused on learning from Tang Xien to care back then.

What the hell was this shitty company playing at? Screwing her over?

Zheng Siqi shrugged it off. “Exactly what I said. Hope you’re clear on this: when there’s more talent chasing fewer spots, you’ll have to hustle harder than the rest.”

“I’m not sleeping with clients.”

The words burst out of Ji Zhenshi before she could think twice, her stance unyielding.

Zheng Siqi wasn’t fazed. He narrowed his eyes and drawled an indifferent, “Oh.”

He figured she’d come crawling when resources dried up. Ambitious dreamers like her always panicked eventually. No point arguing—he’d seen it all before. He’d let reality do the talking.

“I hear you and Tang Xien get along. Even after she leaves, make the most of her network. Use it—even if it means selling your soul instead of your body,” he said righteously, clearly exploiting her lack of backing. Not only was he squeezing her deserved resources, he was pushing her to drain a former employee’s last drops of value.

Ji Zhenshi ground her molars, almost laughing at his shamelessness. “My relationship with Teacher Tang has nothing to do with the company’s resources, does it? President Zheng, I’ve fulfilled every contract obligation, but the company hasn’t given me fair treatment.”

Did he think she couldn’t see through his bullshit?

She wasn’t an idiot. Only a fool would whore herself out for clients.

“Opportunities are earned, Ji Zhenshi. You should know that. Assigning Tang Xien as your mentor was the biggest break we gave you—and you’ve benefited, haven’t you? Sometimes you need to be flexible, not so rigid. Otherwise, you’ll lose out and never know why.” Her bluntness soured Zheng Siqi’s expression. He wasn’t pleased.

No one talked to him like that. Everyone fawned over him.

Ji Zhenshi was just a rookie—stubborn and green.

Or maybe her starting point had been too cushy. Not everyone could snag Tang Xien as a mentor. High launch, and now this cocky little upstart was getting ideas above her station.

Ji Zhenshi was speechless, frustration bubbling up. “Thanks so much for looking out for me, President Zheng.”

It felt like the company had played both her and Tang Xien.

They banked on her fearing the massive breach penalty if she rebelled. And they assumed Tang Xien would nurture the newbie, so dumping Ji Zhenshi on her was like free labor.

Capitalist pigs—every scheming thought as black as their hearts.

Zheng Siqi nodded. “Smart girl.”

“Anything else?” Ji Zhenshi itched to bolt. She wanted nothing more to do with him.

“This is for your own good. Don’t get impatient. Tang Xien might seem standoffish, but she wasn’t always like that. She’s a lesbian—her girlfriend turned her bitter. Keep in touch with her. The company won’t stop you from pursuing your own leads.”

This was the second time she’d heard about Tang Xien’s past from Zheng Siqi.

She had a girlfriend? What happened to her? And she was gay?

Ji Zhenshi blinked in surprise but instinctively defended Tang Xien. “President Zheng, gossiping behind her back isn’t cool. I’m not curious about Teacher Tang’s history. Know when to stop—she clearly doesn’t share it around.”

Zheng Siqi mistook her undisguised disgust for homophobia. Acceptance was still spotty these days; plenty of folks found it gross.

He even played the saint, advising her. “The past doesn’t matter. Whatever her orientation, just deal with her normally. Just don’t bring up the girlfriend. Her girl was nearly a decade younger—and she died years ago. Mention it, and she flips out. Otherwise, you’ve got tons to talk about with her.”

Before he finished, a icy voice sliced through, laced with frost. “No need for you to spread my business around, President Zheng. Worry about your own house—it’s practically in flames. Wouldn’t want us all watching the show, would you?”

A man who kept mistresses everywhere, judging their queerness?

The height of hypocrisy.

Tang Xien stood with arms crossed, her glare radiating menace. Her visible fury made anyone think twice about crossing her.

Zheng Siqi paled. “What the hell do you mean by that, Tang Xien?”

“Literally what I said.” She glanced sideways at Ji Zhenshi, her gaze deepening. After a pause, she added, “Ji Zhenshi, get on stage and focus.”

Ji Zhenshi got the hint: Tang Xien must have overheard everything, or she’d be in the crossfire too.

From Tang Xien’s reaction, Zheng Siqi’s words rang true.

She’d had a girlfriend ten years her junior, gone for years now.

“You—!” Zheng Siqi couldn’t touch Tang Xien. No sense making a public scene; she was no pushover. Backroom trash-talk was fine, but push too far, and it’d be mutual destruction.

He spat one last barb and stormed off. “Lesbians are disgusting.”

Ji Zhenshi had been about to take the stage. This was their beef, but that parting shot was pure venom. Her brows knit; she rolled up her sleeves to shout after him. “Hey, you—”

What kind of bullshit was that? Who cared if someone was gay?

Why did it feel like a kick at her too?

She took a step, but Tang Xien snagged the lanyard around her neck and yanked her back like a wayward chick. Cool as ice, she said only, “Don’t forget what you’re here for. Done with the company?”

Ji Zhenshi was too young for this. Win the fight, and then what? Kiss her career goodbye on a whim?

Tang Xien had outgrown petty squabbles. She dragged Ji Zhenshi back and shot her a look: get ready, now.

“I really wanna punch him,” Ji Zhenshi grumbled, swallowing her rage. She eyed Tang Xien’s blank face, words catching in her throat.

Tang Xien said nothing, watching as Ji Zhenshi headed onstage.

She lingered behind the dim curtain, statue-still in the shadows. Her tall frame didn’t twitch. She appeared riveted on the stage, but her mind replayed Ji Zhenshi and Zheng Siqi’s conversation.

A fleeting thought from before now burned brighter.

Newbie exploitation was par for the course; she’d known but ignored it. Subconsciously, she’d viewed Ji Zhenshi as just work. Company screwing her? Not her problem. Her biggest favor had been recognizing the talent, hooking her up with violin world seniors, and landing her a few stages.

But Ji Zhenshi was different. Tang Xien admired the gifted—they were born to outshine the average. Ji Zhenshi had that protagonist glow, forged in fire, pushing herself relentlessly to escape the grind.

She knew what she wanted, clutched her talent fiercely, poured in every ounce of effort and time. It crystallized in that devout kiss to her violin after every bow.

Tang Xien grew certain: Ji Zhenshi was cut from the same cloth. Maybe their shared orientation played a part. Recalling Ji Zhenshi’s grip on Li Yunli’s hand, anguish flooded her eyes—too raw to name.

She could’ve had that love. But fate was cruel.

Her lover had died tragically. That pain defined her life.

The rest blurred in endless grief. She couldn’t love again, not even able to ignore those who echoed her lost one.

Lost in reverie, Tang Xien waited till Ji Zhenshi finished. Abruptly, she asked, “What does your girlfriend do?”

“Huh?” Ji Zhenshi had been fretting over Zheng Siqi dredging up Tang Xien’s pain, ready to comfort her. This curveball stunned her. “She runs a coffee shop. Works there mostly. Why? Need to see her?”

Tang Xien nodded, her composure serene. “If you don’t mind, I’ll drop by her shop for coffee sometime. You owe me a thank-you dinner, right? Bring me then. I’d like to chat with her.”

Tang Xien knew boundaries. No solo ambush on Li Yunli.

She just needed to confirm one last thing—to know if Ji Zhenshi was worth pulling from the fire. She wasn’t some saint handing out charity; pros and cons mattered.

“What? Chat with her? About what?” The shift blindsided Ji Zhenshi.

Tang Xien’s mind always ran on a different wavelength.

Something nagged: had Li Yunli and Tang Xien met before? How else would this ice queen offer her number on first sight, now volunteer a coffee shop visit?

Ji Zhenshi eyed her warily. Was she after Sister A-Yun?

Tang Xien’s lips quirked in a not-quite-smile. “You, of course. Half a year as your teacher—time to chat with the family before graduation. Problem?”

What else would they have in common besides Ji Zhenshi?

She scanned Ji Zhenshi’s dead-serious face and came clean. “Don’t tell me you think I’m into your girlfriend. I’d contact her directly if so—I have her number. Why bring you? To play third wheel?”

“…”

Ji Zhenshi was speechless. Savage.

“No, that’s not it. If she’s cool with it, sure. I’ll check when I get back?”

Tang Xien nodded. “Mm.”

With that, she left. Before, she’d stay for the full event. Now, results weren’t even out.

Putting on a brave front. If Zheng Siqi was right, that piano loop she’d heard a thousand times tied to her girlfriend. How much agony for Tang Xien?

Loss—Ji Zhenshi knew it intimately.

She’d never truly had it, yet the void ached soul-deep.

Ji Zhenshi didn’t get her angle but agreed anyway. Tang Xien never wasted time explaining. Better not to ask.

She’d find out what they discussed when she was there.

Thinking of Li Yunli, Ji Zhenshi checked the time. Good—her therapy was afternoon. High-speed rail after the event should get her back in time.

Distracted, she waited. Finally, results dropped.

She’d outperformed expectations, snagging first prize.

During the group photo with her trophy, Ji Zhenshi smiled at the camera, winking as she savored her moment. Amid the winners, the spirited girl shone brightest.

She’d earned applause and glory again.

Ji Zhenshi, you’re heading for bigger stages. Keep pushing.

She snapped a selfie with the trophy and sent photos to Li Yunli.

—Amazing! Our good child is getting even more incredible.

—Celebrate when you get back?

—Good child, congrats on another honor!

Three messages, brimming with joy, mirroring her thrill and fueling her own.

All the frustration evaporated. Li Yunli had her laughing, especially that pet name.

She remembered Sister A-Yun calling her “baby” that night.