Chapter 75: Naughty Thoughts

Li Yunli set her phone down. “No worries—she’s actually quite sensible.”

She knew Tang Xien had come to see her to talk about her girlfriend’s situation, so she’d told Ji Zhenshi to go to bed like a good girl first. She’d go back and keep her company soon enough.

Though reluctant, Ji Zhenshi wouldn’t throw a tantrum over it.

“True enough,” Tang Xien agreed without hesitation, not stingy with her praise for Ji Zhenshi. “Spending time with her, I’ve found she’s a really great person. At least in my eyes, she’s one of the few who truly knows her own boundaries, has a clear sense of limits, and understands exactly what she wants.”

As they chatted, something seemed to strike Tang Xien, and she let out a sudden soft chuckle. “The first time I met Ji Zhenshi, I must have given her some serious psychological trauma.”

She’d cursed her out right at their first meeting, calling Ji Zhenshi a hypocrite.

Ji Zhenshi must have thought she was totally out of line back then and had grumbled about her in secret for ages.

“Yes, she was really upset about it,” Li Yunli said. “She told me she’d never had a teacher who, in the very first lesson, skipped all the teaching and just called her a hypocrite. The kicker was, she didn’t even think she was being hypocritical, so she felt totally wronged and was just devastated.”

Li Yunli knew all about it. Ji Zhenshi had been so aggrieved that she hadn’t even wanted to go back for Tang Xien’s class the next day.

Tang Xien could picture the scene and burst out laughing. “Yeah, I was a bit too harsh. Her impression of me was so clumsy and off-base that I wanted her to just be herself. Don’t lose who you are—that’s the most important thing.”

Tang Xien herself had once blindly imitated outstanding predecessors, just like Ji Zhenshi, and it had cost her dearly. She’d lost herself for a long time, forsaking the unique style that was truly hers.

So, steering Ji Zhenshi away from those detours was for her own good.

“Regardless, thank you, Miss Tang, for all your help with Xiao Zhen,” Li Yunli said. She raised her glass, clinking it gently against Tang Xien’s before tossing back the contents in one go. “Without you, she might have burned out all her passion for the violin thanks to that company. Meeting a mentor like you is her great fortune.”

Tang Xien downed her drink as well. “No need to thank me—I’m rooting for her. Miss Li and I get along great too, so here’s to a fruitful partnership. I have no doubt Ji Zhenshi will carve out her own legacy on the violin stage. And I wouldn’t mind being her soulmate in music.”

There were plenty of prodigies out there, but few mentors who could recognize and nurture them.

Keeping Ji Zhenshi close let Tang Xien glimpse the one in her heart—a bit of selfish motive there, sure, but also a rational weighing of pros and cons. She didn’t mind giving the girl a push, helping her ambitions take flight and creating a dazzling auditory spectacle in the process.

Li Yunli smiled warmly. “Then thank you again, Miss Tang. Though, to be fair, it was my fault before—I didn’t look into the company thoroughly enough for her.”

Previously, she’d only reviewed Ji Zhenshi’s contract and glanced at the company online. Now she regretted not digging deeper.

It hadn’t been the best choice for Ji Zhenshi. She just got lucky running into Tang Xien.

“That’s normal,” Tang Xien said. “All companies are like that. It’s just that Ji Zhenshi’s personality doesn’t really suit working for one.”

Tang Xien understood girls like her well. Without a true soulmate, she’d likely hit dead end after dead end, her passion slowly ground away by corporate drudgery.

Li Yunli leaned back a little. “All the same, I’m truly grateful. By the way, Miss Tang, are you still seeing that psychologist? Feeling any better?”

She remembered their first meeting—Tang Xien smoking in the hallway of the psychological hospital. The treatment hadn’t seemed very effective then.

“I stopped going after our chat at the coffee shop,” Tang Xien replied evenly, her words lacking the guarded edge from their first talk. “Miss Li, sometimes a half-hour conversation with a good listener does more good than an entire afternoon with a shrink. Aside from the chronic insomnia, I’m doing okay. So yeah, I’ll help Ji Zhenshi, and you can be my listening ear. Call it mutual benefit?”

She meant mutual exploitation, really.

Li Yunli gave Tang Xien a knowing look. “Deal.”

No wonder the woman didn’t have many friends. Even after doing someone a huge favor, she’d downplay it with this kind of semantic sleight-of-hand.

That personality of hers scared off a lot of people.

“Take a look at this photo.” Tang Xien pulled out her phone and opened her treasured album shot.

It took Li Yunli only a second to react.

That photo—it felt vaguely familiar, like she’d seen it somewhere before.

Seeing the surprise on Li Yunli’s face, Tang Xien chuckled lightly. “Feels like you’ve seen it somewhere, right? But the people in it are definitely me and someone else?”

She paused, then explained. “It’s Ji Zhenshi’s phone wallpaper. I spotted it back then and froze—first time I’d ever peeked at someone’s screen like that. Took a few glances to confirm it wasn’t me and my girlfriend. What a coincidence. We took an identical shot right there at the school gate on her graduation day. It’s our last photo together.”

The girl next to Tang Xien didn’t actually resemble Ji Zhenshi much at all, but that fiery spark in her eyes was so eerily similar—the exact same pose, shoulders touching as they grinned at the camera, radiating pure bliss.

The girl was stunning, her features sharp and exquisitely sculpted—a golden-haired, blue-eyed beauty.

“She’s gorgeous,” Li Yunli said sincerely. “You two look perfect together.”

“Yeah, she really was beautiful. We were so perfect for each other.” Tang Xien gazed at the photo with deep affection, a lingering sadness in her eyes that she couldn’t quite hide.

Li Yunli saw it and felt how tragic this romance truly was.

If that girl hadn’t had her accident, would Tang Xien ever have come back home?

That mishap had utterly derailed her life. At the very least, Tang Xien deserved a far happier path.

Sometimes the heavens toyed with us mercilessly, leaving no room even for resistance.

The reminiscing cut short. Li Yunli wasn’t sure how much Ji Zhenshi knew about Tang Xien’s past, nor did she plan to tell her. Instead, she kept stroking Ji Zhenshi’s hair, over and over. “Xiao Zhen, there are too many things in this world we can’t control. I just want to thank you—I feel so lucky we’re together. I truly cherish every day with you.”

Thanks to Ji Zhenshi’s courage, their love had finally come to fruition.

She couldn’t bear imagining enduring the kind of daily longing Tang Xien faced. She might shatter completely, unable to even pretend at normal life like Tang Xien did.

Li Yunli’s words left Ji Zhenshi stunned for a long moment, wondering why she’d say something like that out of the blue.

But she caught on quick enough. Tang Xien must have opened up to Sister A-Yun about her girlfriend, leaving her all pensive like this.

Looks like Sister A-Yun was overthinking again.

Ji Zhenshi arched a brow, her expression giving Li Yunli an endless surge of reassurance. “Why thank me? Of course we should be together. When two people are in love, that’s exactly where they belong, right?”

When two people loved each other, they belonged together. Cupid only had slim odds of landing that arrow on both hearts, so if love overcame all odds, they absolutely should stay together.

A flicker of soothed amusement lit Li Yunli’s eyes. “You’re right. Two people in love should be together. Thank you, Xiao Zhen.”

Self-delusion, willful ignorance—whatever it took, she was determined to savor this happiness.

Ji Zhenshi frowned slightly. “Sister A-Yun, I don’t like you always thanking me, always saying it’s my bravery that made this happen. But if you weren’t brave too, if you weren’t willing to trust me, do you think we could’ve made it just on my own?”

Love took two people’s courage.

“Don’t say it like that anymore, okay?” Ji Zhenshi wheedled, turning coquettish.

“Okay,” Li Yunli replied with a gentle smile.

As if to ease Li Yunli’s unease further, Ji Zhenshi laced their fingers together. Her voice rang out between them, bright and delighted. “Truth is, being with you has been my dream since I was sixteen, Sister A-Yun. Bet you didn’t see that coming. So my feelings have stood the test of time—you don’t need to worry. If anything, I’m the lucky one for getting the chance to make my dream come true, to be with someone as wonderful as you. Don’t feel insecure, alright?”

She’d been coveting Li Yunli since sixteen and finally got her wish at twenty-two.

Someone this precious—she knew better than to take her for granted.

Li Yunli nodded silently, surprised that she’d picked up on her little mood and gone out of her way to comfort her.

After a beat, Li Yunli tilted her head with a soft laugh, flicking Ji Zhenshi’s nose. “Xiao Zhen, back at sixteen, weren’t you still crying over failing grades? Skipping homework to dream up all these naughty thoughts, huh?”

Ji Zhenshi hadn’t brought it up, Ji Zhenshi didn’t mind—now she couldn’t help dwelling on what sixteen-year-old Ji Zhenshi had been like.

By then, Li Yunli had already spent some time with her. The barriers between them had melted away as Ji Tingjun went to prison, and they’d gotten along fairly well.

Li Yunli had been stressing over Ji Zhenshi’s heavy high school workload back then, brainstorming ways to boost her study efficiency and dragging her out for fun whenever she seemed down.

Who could’ve guessed this little rascal had such impure thoughts brewing?

A naughty-minded kid through and through.

Ji Zhenshi gave an abashed little smile. “But Sister A-Yun, you’re just too beautiful— so gentle and thoughtful. How could I not fall for you? Can’t blame me entirely; your charm’s just that irresistible. Sister A-Yun, you have this huge pull on me. I’ll fall for you a million times over.”

Youthful vows were always so grand and sweeping. Any rational person would dismiss emotional promises like that. But Li Yunli was willing to stake everything on it, to dive in headfirst.

Especially since Ji Zhenshi had genuinely harbored this crush for six whole years.

Li Yunli let out a mix of exasperation and fondness. “Fine, you win. I don’t feel so down anymore. Xiao Zhen, you really do have a silver tongue.”

Ji Zhenshi snuggled against Li Yunli’s shoulder, humming a little tune. “That’s more like it. Why be unhappy? I’m right here with you—we should enjoy every bit of it.”

“Alright, Xiao Zhen’s in charge.”

…

On the fourth day of the Lunar New Year, Ji Zhenshi’s return to Beinan marked the end of her vacation. Even without Tang Xien around, she had to resume training, pick up her violin after days away, and gear up for the small events her mentor planned to have her debut at.

No matter how talented, anyone got rusty without practice. Ji Zhenshi lived in fear that even a single day off would mean the heavens reclaiming her gift.

Though she was still a newbie, terminating her contract after just half a year would draw some skepticism.

Luckily, with Tang Xien vouching for her, Ji Zhenshi could keep pursuing her performing career and stay eligible for competitions.

On her first workday morning, Ji Zhenshi’s voice pitched way higher than usual. “Sister A-Yun, I’m off to the studio to practice then! Heading out now—once I’m gone, poof, no more me all day. Won’t be back till super late!”

Coming down from a long stretch of relaxation, the back-to-work withdrawal hit Ji Zhenshi hard.

The worst part? Not being glued to Sister A-Yun every waking second left her itchy and antsy, glancing back every other step. She’d grown addicted to clinging to her sweet, soft wife. Going solo now was pure agony for someone as smitten as she was.

Ji Zhenshi had scratched her head for the umpteenth time, her eyes practically glued to Li Yunli as she whined and dragged her feet. “Sister A-Yun, will you miss me once I’m gone? You will, right? Am I too clingy? But I just can’t bear leaving you. Ignore me and I’ll actually go?”

Li Yunli, ever accustomed to her routine, was perfectly at ease in her apron, grinding coffee beans while gazing at Ji Zhenshi with indulgent affection. “Xiao Zhen, that’s the third time you’ve said that this morning. If you don’t leave soon, you’ll hit rush hour. Showing up late on your first day won’t look good.”

“Be a good girl, okay? Don’t embarrass Teacher Tang. You know she’s under a lot of pressure right now.”

If anything, Li Yunli felt helpless over Ji Zhenshi’s overgrown case of playfulness.

She’d gone way too wild, and now couldn’t reel it back in.

Starting last night, Ji Zhenshi had stared at the ceiling, sighing endlessly, loath to confront reality.

Happy times always flew by too fast.

“I haven’t mentally prepped at all—how’s it already over? This can’t be real; I must still be dreaming. Vacations can’t be that short!” Sprawled starfish-style on the bed, Ji Zhenshi wailed dramatically at the heavens.

“Sister A-Yun, why isn’t there a time machine in this world? If I could turn back time, I’d relive the first day off: skiing! Fireworks shows! Dates!”

Li Yunli rose from her desk without a flicker of expression, flipped back the covers, and tossed half over the belly-baring whiner.

Ignoring her, she slid into bed herself, ready for sleep.

The shop would be hectic tomorrow, so she needed an early night to reset her schedule.

As for the nonstop grumbler beside her—she’d tuned it out after a whole evening of racket. Might as well let her vent; facts wouldn’t change.

But the instigator wouldn’t let her rest. Her one-woman show was boring without an audience.

The restless one unceremoniously swung her leg across Li Yunli’s belly. Her voice drifted over lazily. “Sister A-Yun, you’re back to work tomorrow—aren’t you sad at all?”

The impact jarred Li Yunli, and she winced faintly. She grabbed the offending ankle, not giving her a chance to squirm.

Finally getting a reaction, Ji Zhenshi softened her tone. “I think I have vacation withdrawal syndrome. It hurts so bad. Sister A-Yun, give us a kiss?”

Li Yunli nearly lost her grip on the ankle and turned to look.