Chapter 39: The Secret Behind the Friends Part 1

As those words left her lips, the temperature in the study plummeted.

Gu Xueqiang and Gu Qingshuang locked eyes, neither willing to yield an inch. The air grew thick with the scent of gunpowder, a single spark away from a violent explosion.

Ming Li was shaken by the revelation but forced herself to remain calm. She curled her lip slightly and said, “That was a long time ago. Why bring up useless things now?”

“Just a reminder for Mother.” Gu Qingshuang withdrew her gaze and let out a soft breath. “Just because I don’t speak of certain things doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten them.”

“Gu Qingshuang!” Gu Xueqiang snapped sharply. “You remember? Your memory is so good! Then do you remember what they did to me?!”

Seeing the two on the verge of another row, Ming Li immediately stepped in to mediate. “Mother, your health is more important. Don’t be angry.”

“Of course I remember,” Gu Qingshuang said. “That’s why I’ve never brought it up until now, isn’t it?”

Ming Li tugged at Gu Qingshuang’s wrist, whispering a plea, “Stop it.”

It was obvious to any observer that the resentment between this mother and daughter ran deep. Their daily bickering was usually just a vent for pent-up frustration, but moments like this—when they touched the core of the issue—were when they truly started stabbing at each other’s hearts.

Once the heart of the matter was exposed, their words became fewer, but their emotions grew heavier. A single wrong syllable could unearth years of old grievances.

If Ming Li hadn’t been there, it would be one thing, but present as she was, she couldn’t just stand by.

Gu Xueqiang glanced at the conflicted Ming Li, then lowered her eyes, her voice sinking. “If you truly care for the people around you, stop staying cooped up in your own little world. The current situation in the family is unclear. If you have spare time, it would be better to help Ming Li. Everything in this house will eventually be handed over to you two.”

“I don’t want it,” Gu Qingshuang said. “Give it to a Professional Manager, give it to Ming Li, or divide it among Gu Mengdie and the others. I don’t care.”

Gu Xueqiang’s fury ignited again. She grabbed a small trinket from the desk and hurled it. It wasn’t aimed at anyone, instead smashing directly against the wall.

Ming Li looked over; it was a string of beads. A set of Buddhist prayer beads, though she didn’t know where they had been blessed.

“You must take it,” Gu Xueqiang insisted.

“Whatever you say.” Gu Qingshuang’s voice was heavy. “If you think that’s best, then do it.”

She clearly had no desire to rehash the past or continue the argument. “Don’t you two still have things to discuss? Get on with it.”

The tension that had just been at a breaking point suddenly collapsed into despondency. She pulled out a chair and sat down, her eyes half-lidded.

Just looking at her made one feel uneasy.

Ming Li had rarely seen Gu Qingshuang like this—like a flower that had lost all its vitality, silently waiting to wither away.

Seeing this, Gu Xueqiang frowned. “You…”

“I’m fine.” Gu Qingshuang knew what she was going to say. She lifted her eyelids slightly, doing her best to steady her trembling voice and feign her usual indifference. “Carry on with your talk.”

Gu Xueqiang abruptly unclenched her fist, her tone resigned. “There’s nothing left to say. You two go back.”

She looked at Ming Li and added warmly, “Ming Li, apologize to that little girl for me. I frightened her this morning.”

“It’s fine…”

Ming Li was about to politely decline when Gu Qingshuang stood up, one hand in her pocket. “If you truly feel you were wrong, go apologize to her yourself. Don’t make Ming Li do it for you. She isn’t your spokesperson.”

Gu Qingshuang’s tone was flat, carrying a hollow, lifeless quality.

Yet, Ming Li found the sentiment strangely familiar.

She expected Gu Xueqiang to get angry, but instead, the older woman watched her daughter’s retreating back and sighed deeply. “I understand.”

It was strange. When Gu Qingshuang was fierce and angry, Gu Xueqiang was even fiercer. But the moment Gu Qingshuang became quiet and acted as if nothing mattered, Gu Xueqiang’s tone became as gentle as could be.

Ming Li had lived with them for three years, yet she still hadn’t fully mastered the logic of their dynamic.

However, she knew the storm was over for tonight.

As Gu Qingshuang stepped out of the study, Gu Xueqiang suddenly called out to Ming Li. “Light some sleep-inducing incense in your room before bed. Don’t stay up too late.”

Ming Li blinked, confused but nodding obediently. “Alright.”

–

When they returned to the bedroom, Ming Li saw Mingyue still watching cartoons on Gu Qingshuang’s iPad.

The girl immediately stood up to greet them. Gu Qingshuang walked ahead of Ming Li; though Ming Li couldn’t see her face, she could sense the woman’s unhappiness.

Yet, facing Mingyue, Gu Qingshuang forced a smile and took the iPad. “It’s time for bed.”

She patiently coaxed Mingyue through her bedtime routine.

Watching from the side, Ming Li realized that although Gu Qingshuang was smiling, it looked more painful than crying. There was an indescribable sense of sorrow and exhaustion in her.

Ming Li felt a sharp pang in her chest, as if someone had pinched her heart. She stepped in to take over with Mingyue, letting Gu Qingshuang rest.

Mingyue was well-behaved and didn’t need much help. She even proactively headed toward the guest bedroom next door.

Fearing the girl might struggle alone, Ming Li used the phone Gu Qingshuang had given her to sign: If you run into trouble, call us. We’ll come over.

After receiving the signs, Mingyue reached out and shook Gu Qingshuang’s arm. “Don’t. Not happy.”

Gu Qingshuang smiled. “I am happy.”

Mingyue pouted. “Lying. Not good.”

Mingyue’s speech wasn’t yet fluent, but she communicated perfectly well with Gu Qingshuang, and her lip-reading had improved significantly.

Before Gu Qingshuang could argue, the girl signed to Ming Li: Sister Li, comfort her.

Ming Li was taken aback. How do I comfort her?