Chapter 17

Ji Changhong snorted coldly. “As long as you harbor no thoughts you shouldn’t, naturally I won’t do anything.”

Ji Xiunian nodded. “True. Eldest Brother is back in Mingchuan now. You wouldn’t dare.”

“What did you just say?” Ji Changhong slammed the table, furious at having his authority challenged. “Is that how you speak to your father?”

Ji Xiunian rubbed her temple. “Say whatever you like. I’m tired and not in the mood to fight. Since you didn’t ask me here just for dinner, I’ll be going.”

Some words she had heard a thousand times; they no longer touched her.

“Stop right there.” Ji Changhong’s voice dropped low. “It’s one meal—I won’t hold it against you. But what I said just now was no joke. Keep yourself in line. What happened at that class reunion—the dancing—will not happen again. And you should know by now that she is already marri—”

“I know.” Ji Xiunian turned back, her smile cold and sharp-edged. “No need to remind me. Thanks to you, I had the great privilege of watching my beloved’s wedding.”

She pushed the door open and walked out, the smile vanishing without a trace.

Secretary Song looked up in surprise as she emerged, but still bowed politely. “Miss Ji, safe travels.”

Ji Xiunian’s expression was mild. “Thank you.”

She drove home, stopping on the way for two bags of frozen dumplings.

She had barely stepped into the entryway to change her shoes when the door opened from outside.

“Anyang?” Ji Xiunian turned at the sound. “You’re back late.”

“…Oh. I went out to eat with a classmate.”

Ji Xiunian pointed at the bandage on his face. “What happened here?”

The boy was so gentle and well-mannered; he had never once given her cause to worry. Forget fighting—he’d never had so much as a squabble with a classmate in his life.

Ji Anyang’s voice was even. “We were playing ball with my deskmate and I took a fall. Afterward he treated me to dinner as an apology.”

Ji Xiunian looked him over from head to toe, and only when she was sure there were no other injuries did she relax. “As long as you’re all right. Your new deskmate is quite friendly, then?”

“He’s all right.”

“Mm, decent,” Ji Anyang said aloud—while thinking, that dorky idiot.

Ji Xiunian smiled. “Then spend more time with him. Don’t bury yourself in books all day; you’ll stew in your own silence.”

The boy had been frail from birth. Treatment had shuffled him between schools at home and abroad, and he’d grown withdrawn and proud, with precious few friends.

Ji Anyang set down his schoolbag, and by the time the dumplings came out of the pot he found himself hungry again. “I’d like a bowl too.”

Ji Xiunian brought out two bowls. “Dinner didn’t fill you up?”

The night was soft, the breeze gentle.

The two of them sat at the table eating dumplings.

“What did you two eat?”

“Nothing special. My deskmate’s sister was there too.”

“His sister? A university student?”

“Probably not. I couldn’t tell how old she was. I… could I invite them over to our home sometime?”

Ji Xiunian was surprised, but pleased. “Of course you can. Lunch or dinner? My cooking is only so-so, but Auntie Luo will be back soon. And when the time comes—would you like me to be here or not?”

Ji Anyang blinked. “I haven’t decided yet… and we haven’t set a time anyway.”

“No rush. Any time works. Just let me know once you’ve decided.”

“Mm.”

Ji Anyang lowered his head over his dumplings, his fair, handsome face faintly hot.

Over the first little lie he had ever told her.

After dinner, Ji Xiunian returned to work.

When her back injury had flared up and she’d taken leave, the follow-up work had been handed to Cen Yao, due for submission this week. But she couldn’t rest easy and decided to review it once more.

At eleven that night, she pressed at her sore eyes and was about to shut down her computer when her hand paused.

Something about the figures in this document wasn’t right.

She called Cen Yao. “Cen Yao, was the equipment procurement tender handled by you?”

Cen Yao checked. “No, it wasn’t me. If I remember right, Director Gao handled it.”

“Do you have Assistant Le’s number?”

“I do. I’ll send it to you on WeChat.”

Ji Xiunian hesitated a moment, then dialed. “Assistant Le, I’m sorry to bother you so late.”

Le Cheng was all warmth. “Not at all, not at all. What can I do for you?”

The boss had made it clear, after all: whatever Professor Ji wanted, he was to cooperate.

“There’s a quotation document here. Could you find a friend in the industry to take a look at it?”

“No problem. I’ll get you an answer as soon as I can.”

“Thank you.”

After hanging up, Ji Xiunian stared at her screen.

Slowly, anger surfaced on that mild, lovely face.

Gao Qirui could play her dirty little tricks—Ji Xiunian couldn’t be bothered to stoop to her level. But now she dared tamper with equipment donated by Zhou Lang?

The next day, evening.

Knock knock.

“Come in.”

Ji Xiunian looked up. “Jiang Yue?”

The girl held a kraft paper envelope, having deliberately left the office door wide open. “Teacher Ji, the money I borrowed from you before—I’m returning it.”

She had gone home and cried her eyes out, convinced that rehearsing late into the night with a low fever must have addled her head. How could she have listened to Director Gao’s poisonous whispers…

How could she have been so foolish?

Teacher Ji was such a good person… She had always kept such careful distance, never given her the slightest sliver of encouragement.

These past few days she had thought it through. What she felt wasn’t so much love as a desperate craving for someone gentle and strong to lean on.

She was a drowning person grasping at driftwood, just trying to catch a breath.

Ji Xiunian didn’t take the envelope. “I’m doing all right for money. It’s you I’d worry about…”

Jiang Yue kept her head down. “I’m sorry. If I caused you trouble that day, I apologize.”

Ji Xiunian’s voice was gentle. “It’s all right. I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now. Perhaps you just needed someone to lean on.”

Such pinpoint accuracy made Jiang Yue flush deeper. “I…”

Ji Xiunian pushed the envelope back. “Enjoy what your age should be enjoyed. Go have a real talk with your boyfriend. You’re both young, but I believe that if he truly loves you, he’ll be willing to work hard alongside you.”

Jiang Yue’s eyes stung. “I’m sorry… I… In any case, please take the money back. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

Ji Xiunian regarded her quietly, then asked suddenly, “Is this… about what she said last time? Are you still angry with her?”

Jiang Yue mumbled, unable to shake her own inferiority. “But it’s true, I don’t have—”

“You’re young. Through your own efforts you’ll have wealth and assets of your own someday, and in the eyes of the one you love, you will always be beautiful. She was only joking.”

Ji Xiunian’s voice softened without her meaning it to. “If you felt insulted that day, then I’ll apologize to you on her behalf. She can be sharp-tongued sometimes, but she really is… a very good person.”

Jiang Yue said nothing. Then, suddenly: “Why are you apologizing for her?”

“I…” Ji Xiunian faltered.

Jiang Yue looked at her, understanding dawning. “You’re apologizing for her now because you’re worried I’ll be too sharp-tongued the next time I see Dean Zhou, and make her angry? You don’t want her to be unhappy. Am I right?”

For once, Ji Xiunian—always so serene and composed—was at a loss for words.

Jiang Yue, who had been crying only moments ago, now wore the sly, triumphant gleam unique to girls her age, and blinked. “I knew it! She likes you, and you like her too, don’t you?”

She’d known it all along. And they dared say “even I don’t like her”—grown-ups, every last one of them, mouths saying the opposite of their hearts.

“That’s not true!”

Ji Xiunian cut her off, uncharacteristically stern. “Jiang Yue. Don’t talk nonsense.”

Jiang Yue burst out giggling, clasping her hands behind her back. “I’m off!”

As if she’d uncovered some delicious little secret, the last of her awkwardness evaporated and her mood lifted entirely.

Her spirits cleared like clouds giving way to sun. She left the envelope on the desk and darted out the door without so much as answering when Ji Xiunian called after her. But the farther she ran, the more she wanted to cry.

“Ah… there goes another elder I could have asked for help. You’d better pull yourself together,” the young girl thought as she ran. “Don’t go looking for someone to depend on. You’re grown now. You’re an adult. You have to take care of Dad. You…”

“Jiang Yue?”

“…”

Jiang Yue stopped dead. Of all people, she had to run into the one who was “prettier and richer” than her.

Zhou Lang took in her reddened eyes and understood at once. “Just came from Teacher Ji’s?”

“I didn’t say anything! I know my place!”

For some reason, that one question stirred her heart up all over again, and she blurted it out, chin jutting stubbornly.

Zhou Lang laughed, easy and breezy. “I wasn’t worried. Why the rush to defend yourself?”

Jiang Yue eyed her dolefully. “But what if… what if you give me a low grade in your course…”

Zhou Lang laughed outright. “You think that’s the kind of person I am?”

She could hardly be bothered to fight a little girl with such petty tricks.

Only then did Jiang Yue press her lips together and smile. “Who knows…”

Zhou Lang nodded. “There you go. That’s better. Smile more. Cheerful girls get blessed, you know.”

Jiang Yue froze.

Blessed… What blessing? Her mother had died saving strangers, and the driver was never found—not a cent of compensation. Her father lay in the ICU, and she worked three or four part-time jobs, sleeping less than four hours a night…

Was this the blessing heaven had granted her?

Zhou Lang waved and walked on.

The girl stood blankly for a while, then drifted slowly after her.

Until the phone in her coat pocket began buzzing frantically.

“Hello?” she asked, nose stuffed up. “Who’s this?”

“Is this Jiang Yue? This is the university’s Student Financial Aid Office. We’ve just received an educational fund from Leheng Group to support a group of students from disadvantaged families, and you’re on the list. The donor has requested expedited processing. Could you send me your ID number now?”

“I… Is it a loan?”

“No, it’s an outright grant.”

Jiang Yue’s whole body jolted. Clutching the phone, she suddenly burst into loud, gasping sobs.

“Jiang Yue? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She scrubbed the tears away with the back of her hand and choked out, “S-sorry. I’ll read it to you right away.”

But the tears kept falling.

Teacher Ji was right.

Dean Zhou really was a good, good person.

Knock knock.

Ji Xiunian was bent over a book, her head full of Jiang Yue’s parting words—you like her too, don’t you?—when the knock made her jerk upright. “You… Dean Zhou?”

Zhou Lang lounged against the doorframe. “What, disappointed to see me?”

“No.”

Ji Xiunian shook her head. The crisp autumn sunlight through the window fell across her face, serene and translucent. “You don’t have class today, do you? What brings you here?”

Zhou Lang spoke slowly. “Oh. Felt like coming.”

“No reason at all?”

“There is one, actually. I had a chat with my senior.”

The lie rolled off her tongue without effort. Zhou Lang lifted her wrist and checked her watch. “It’s getting late. Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No. Why?”

“You owe me a meal. Today works—we’re both free. Take me to dinner.”

She might as well say yes, Zhou Lang thought. After all the favors she’d done, surely she’d earned one meal.