Chapter 2

The lover she had been parted from for sixteen years

now stood before her eyes.

Emotions ran wild in a single instant.

Shock, disbelief, mingled with a certain illusory joy akin to recovering something lost—countless feelings converged, transmitted from her brain to every nerve ending, her heartbeat lurching into overdrive until she felt a near-palpitation discomfort.

Ji Xiunian looked away from her gaze, her voice mild and even. “Thank you for the question, President… Dean Zhou. I don’t have much to say on the matter. The foundation of education lies in the students. Rather than hear my opinion, better to hear what the students think.”

Expressionless, she handed the microphone back.

Such perfunctoriness left the other teachers wincing awkwardly.

The Dean came over to smooth things over. “Any teachers or students with thoughts? Please raise your hands.”

Zhou Lang watched her, eyes curving with a hint of amusement. Avoiding the spot where her fingers had touched, she took the microphone back, walked to the other side, and handed it casually to a student with a raised hand.

The moment Ji Xiunian sat down, Fang Xun nervously leaned in. “Teacher Ji, do you actually know Dean Zhou from before?”

“…I suppose.”

“She seemed a little rude to you just now, didn’t she?”

Ji Xiunian gave an “mm” and didn’t take up the thread.

After the students spoke, the Dean announced intermission.

Ji Xiunian put her notebook back in her bag and stood. “I’m leaving.”

Fang Xun gasped in surprise. “There’s still a second half!”

Ji Xiunian offered no explanation, picked up her bag, and left.

In the corridor, colleagues greeted her. “Teacher Ji, rushing off to class?”

Ji Xiunian hurried past, tossing them a smile as she slipped by. “Something urgent.”

A woman always so composed and reserved, now walking as if fleeing for her life, as if some great beast were snapping at her heels.

Gao Qirui, the department head, happened to be passing and blocked her way. “Teacher Ji, the meeting isn’t over. Don’t embarrass the Dean.”

Ji Xiunian’s brows drew together, her gaze cold. “Director Gao.”

Gao Qirui covered her mouth and giggled. “What’s wrong? Just got embarrassed by your old fl—by the question, and now you’re sulking?”

Under Ji Xiunian’s faintly warning gaze, she corrected herself.

Ji Xiunian’s eyes were icy as she stepped past her. “That’s none of your business.”

Someone murmured, “Let it go, Director Gao. Stay out of other people’s business.”

Everyone knew Ji Xiunian’s family had connections, even if she kept a low profile.

Gao Qirui choked at the rebuke, but recalling how Zhou Lang had just made things difficult for Ji Xiunian, she felt a little better. “She won’t have it easy going forward, either. That Dean Zhou is a formidable one.”

Ji Xiunian paid her words no mind, not stopping until she reached the office at the end of the second-floor corridor, one hand braced against the cold doorframe, slowing her ragged breathing.

After a few seconds, she fished her keys out of her bag. Her trembling fingertips curled for a moment before uncurling to turn the key, which clicked crisply.

But in the second before she could push the door open, a low, cool voice sounded at her ear. “Caught you.”

Clatter—

Ji Xiunian’s hand jerked, and the keys fell to the floor.

She turned. “…Dean Zhou.”

She hadn’t noticed when the woman had approached at all.

Zhou Lang stepped in first and bent to pick up the keys. “Just a joke. Professor Ji, it’s been a long time—I trust you’ve been well. Is this your office?”

Ji Xiunian nodded, lips parting slightly, saying nothing.

The keys dangled from those jade-white fingertips as Zhou Lang held them out. “Here. Your keys.”

Ji Xiunian reached for them instinctively—and unexpectedly, those fingertips brushed across her palm, deliberate or not.

The keys were cold.

Her fingertips were warm.

“Old friends for so many years—won’t Professor Ji invite me in for a cup of tea?”

“I’m sorry, I have somewhere to be. I need to go.”

Zhou Lang stepped back with a smile. “Then I’ll come another time. There will be plenty of days ahead, Professor Ji. Until next time.”

Plenty of days ahead?

Ji Xiunian looked up instinctively and met those eyes holding a distant smile, her heart slamming hard.

That brief exchange of glances had lasted only an instant; she hadn’t even seen her face clearly.

Now, looking—she had changed, and yet she hadn’t.

Her features had matured, more dazzling than before, a hint of defiance in her expression.

Only those eyes, fixed on her, were cold and distant.

As Ji Xiunian watched Zhou Lang, Zhou Lang watched her too.

Gentle and refined, elegant and graceful.

Even with the faintest lines quietly gathering at the corners of her eyes, no one could deny she was someone time had treated with particular kindness.

Ji Xiunian broke the silence first. “…When did you come back?”

All these years—had she been abroad the whole time?

Why come back?

You… are you well?

Zhou Lang wore a polite smile. “What if I told you I came back to rekindle what we had—would you believe me?”

Ji Xiunian answered evenly. “No. A broken mirror can’t be pieced back together.”

Middle school physics had covered it: shattered glass can’t pull its fragments back within the range of molecular attraction.

Zhou Lang froze, the corner of her eye twitching once before she suppressed it.

Ji Xiunian sensed something flash past, but she missed it—failed to catch that flicker.

Zhou Lang arched a brow, turning the question back on her. “Right. Sixteen years. Why would I dwell on someone who means nothing?”

Ji Xiunian watched her in silence, saying not a word.

Zhou Lang leaned down slightly, meeting her eyes directly, and said softly, “I have a bad temper. I hold grudges, and I’m petty. Of course I’m here… for revenge.”

Revenge for ruining my reputation.

Revenge for wounding my family.

Revenge for… abandoning me.

Ji Xiunian’s brows knitted. “Zhou Lang, you—”

Zhou Lang had already straightened up, that polite, proper smile back in place, betraying nothing. “Just a joke. Professor Ji. Until next time.”

Ji Xiunian canceled her evening class and went home early.

The housekeeper had recently taken leave to visit her hometown, so on the way home Ji Xiunian stopped at the supermarket for a sea bass. At home she made fish soup and two simple home-style dishes—nothing elaborate.

The dishes had just come off the stove when the sound of the door opening and closing came from the living room.

A slender youth in a blue-and-white school uniform jacket was changing shoes at the entryway. He wore silver-framed glasses with thin lenses, and seeing her busy in the kitchen, said, “…Mom, I’m home.”

Ji Xiunian’s lips curved. “Sit down first. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Ji Anyang nodded without a word, set down his book bag, and laid out two sets of bowls and chopsticks.

The two sat at the table and ate. Neither was talkative by nature, and the meal passed in silence.

Ji Xiunian kept her head down, long thick lashes half-lowered, stirring the soup in her bowl for a long time without drinking a mouthful.

The trip home from school, the supermarket, cooking… whenever there was a lull, she drifted off into a daze.

Ji Anyang glanced up at her several times. The words “Are you unhappy?” rose to his lips and were swallowed back… Never mind. She wouldn’t tell him anything anyway.

The youth pushed back his chair. “I’m done. Going up to do homework.”

Ji Xiunian surfaced from her thoughts. “You’ve had enough?”

Ji Anyang nodded silently, shouldered his schoolbag, and went upstairs.

He’d been a little more talkative as a small child; growing up, he kept more and more inside, barely squeezing out a few words a day.

When Ji Xiunian returned to her room, the clock had just struck seven. This should have been class time; instead, she was unexpectedly free.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, listening to the tick of the second hand, at a loss before the sudden expanse of time.

As if the order of her life had simply been broken.

A light rain began outside.

It was still early, so she took two books at random from the shelf.

One was a Japanese mystery novel. The plot was admittedly a bit clichéd, yet she found herself lost, unable to sink into the story.

The scenes from the day replayed like a slow film, frame by frame, on a loop.

She had called her “Professor Ji.”

She had said, “I trust you’ve been well.”

The mockery and derision in the depths of her gaze when she looked at her.

Ji Xiunian closed the novel and opened the second book, a collection of modern poetry, flipping to a dog-eared page: Dai Wangshu’s “Vexation.”

Outside, the rain poured down.

Inside, a single water droplet fell onto the page with a soft tap, faintly audible in the rainy night, the printed characters slowly blurring.

Ji Xiunian turned off the light, took a few pills, and lay down.

Something pressed uncomfortably beneath her pillow. Reaching under, her hand closed around a pair of earrings, and she clutched them in her palm, her body heat slowly warming the cold metal.

At some point she fell asleep—and dreamed.

In the dream’s final scene, a white-haired Priest smiled benevolently, announcing that the newlyweds would exchange rings, pledging a lifetime of love and fidelity. The woman in the pristine wedding dress turned sideways to slip a ring onto her beloved’s finger… It was Zhou Lang’s face.

Dream and reality overlapped in that instant.

Ji Xiunian opened her eyes and padded to the window in her slippers, pushing it open. Fresh, rain-scented air washed over her face.

She raised a hand—and came away with her eyes full of tears.

Monday, 7:30 a.m. Ji Xiunian arrived at the college right on time.

Fang Xun came over with a coffee, yawning. “Morning, Teacher Ji.”

Ji Xiunian smiled at her. “Morning. Coffee again, Little Fang?”

Fang Xun sighed. “Ugh, mornings are murder. They’ve got me doing secretary duty today—meeting later.”

Ji Xiunian waved goodbye. “Go on, I’m off.”

“Hey, Ji—”

Fang Xun suddenly remembered the Dean’s last-minute arrangement, but before she could speak, the other woman was already gone.

Ji Xiunian was mentally rehearsing her lesson. Opening the door, she vaguely heard movement inside the office but thought nothing of it, pushing the door open and walking straight in.

What met her eyes was the radiant face from last night’s dream.

A woman with loose long hair was changing clothes, her shirt buttoned only to the second button—and a swath of dazzling, snow-white skin fell directly into her sight.

Dazzled by that expanse of white, Ji Xiunian wrenched her eyes away, almost beyond her own control, calming her racing heart, her voice hoarse. “Zhou… Dean Zhou?”

Hearing her, Zhou Lang looked up, continuing to button her shirt with perfect composure as she greeted her. “Morning, Professor Ji.”

The hem of that emerald-green silk shirt was tucked into white high-waisted trousers, but with so many buttons it was slow going—she’d fastened only up to the third from the bottom, leaving exposed a graceful curve.

Ji Xiunian pressed her lips together, the tips of her ears hidden in her hair burning hot, her voice a well-restrained calm. “Dean Zhou… what are you doing here?”

Zhou Lang laughed softly, bluntly calling out her deliberate evasion, unhurried. “Just changing a shirt, Professor Ji. Why is your face red?”

“Dean Zhou,” Ji Xiunian interrupted quietly, “when you’re dressed, please leave.”

Zhou Lang arched a brow. “Professor Ji probably doesn’t know yet—so it’d be convenient for me to teach at Ning University, Dean Hao assigned me half of your office.”

“Besides, we’ve slept together before. Why so tense, Professor Ji?”