Chapter 23

Ji Anyang’s surgery went smoothly.

Two weeks of rest, and apart from strenuous exercise, he could live and study normally again.

Ji Xiunian took a week off, and the day she returned to school she ran straight into Gao Qirui.

It was the last time she would ever see her.

Gao Qirui’s work files and personal effects were still at the school; she had come with a police escort to collect them. Seeing Ji Xiunian, she stopped dead, her eyes venomous and full of hate.

Ji Xiunian’s gaze, by contrast, was clear and faint—as if she were looking at weeds by the roadside.

That was what Gao Qirui could not bear most of all. She opened her mouth—but then she remembered that slap from Zhou Lang, the memory of which still made her blood run cold, and swallowed it down.

Ji Xiunian walked past her into the meeting room, where applause greeted her. Fang Xun came rushing over to congratulate her. “Teacher Ji! You made this year’s Top Ten Outstanding Mentors!”

Gao Qirui stood in the corridor, listening, stunned.

Why? She had wanted nothing but to climb, to stand above, to have dignity—so how had she fallen into the mire?

The meeting room door had already closed.

But she could still hear it, perfectly clearly—Hao Shuyou proposing Ji Xiunian for Vice Dean of Academic Affairs. In that instant something in her snapped entirely, and she flung the door open without a thought for anything.

The others looked at her as at a madwoman.

Only Ji Xiunian regarded her with that same faint, clear gaze.

Like a white cloud standing serene above azure sea and sky, calmly watching her writhe in the mud below.

In that moment Gao Qirui felt as if struck by lightning, and crumpled to the floor.

She regretted it.

The nobility and dignity she had craved had shattered the moment she abandoned every principle and every bottom line she had.

The police took her away soon after.

Fang Xun shut the door and carried on with showy enthusiasm. “With Professor Ji overseeing academics, we’re in excellent hands.”

Ji Xiunian herself hadn’t expected the proposal from Hao Shuyou.

The previous vice dean had submitted his resignation. She had no appetite for such contests, and had long known Gao Qirui coveted the post—but she’d never imagined it would land on her…

Hao Shuyou’s expression was mild but firm. “It wasn’t my proposal alone. Teacher Fang Hui wrote from abroad—he’s president of the College Discipline Development Committee, and he raised it first. The other teachers all agreed.”

“She’s right, Professor Ji. No need to be modest.”

“Truly, no one is better suited.”

Ji Xiunian was genuinely surprised, wondering whether her eldest brother had arranged it—though it didn’t quite feel like his style. She didn’t accept right away.

After the meeting, she found Hao Shuyou for a private word. “Dean Hao, about this matter…”

“Teacher Ji, let me explain. As you know… there are factions within the college. Besides the Ning University Faction, there are the teachers transferred over from Yongzhou University, and the Southern School led by Teacher Fang. Now I’ve been brought in from outside, and with Gao Qirui suspended, the Ning University Faction has taken a real blow. By seniority, by ability, you’re the only one they can rally behind. Besides, with Teacher Fang Hui’s blessing, no one else has any objection…”

Ji Xiunian smiled.

So this was the product of internal power struggles. She’d picked it up for free, then?

“Don’t worry, Teacher Ji. Your portfolio is teaching—you’ll mainly be dealing with students. I know you work closely with them.”

“I’m not worried,” Ji Xiunian said, smiling. “I’m just… still processing it, I suppose.”

Her nature was quiet and undemanding; she was not someone who liked standing in the spotlight.

Hao Shuyou pressed, kindly. “Haven’t you always wanted to push curriculum reform? As vice dean, you can reform it however you like.”

“Really?”

Ji Xiunian’s eyes lit up. Every year she surveyed her students about their courses. This genuinely was her passion.

“Then it’s settled?”

“Settled.” Ji Xiunian smiled. “Dean Hao, you certainly know how to strike where it counts.”

Hao Shuyou laughed heartily. “That’s only because your own wants are simple. There are people whose minds I can’t read at all.”

On her way back, Fang Xun came to offer congratulations. “Teacher Ji, congratulations! No wait—I should say Dean Ji now!”

“Stop right there.” Ji Xiunian patted her shoulder. “Teacher Ji is fine.”

Walking side by side, Fang Xun gushed, “I’m so happy for you! Top Ten Outstanding Mentor and vice dean—both so deserved… Oh! Does this mean you get your own office now?”

Mid-sentence, a thought struck her.

If Ji Xiunian was vice dean now, she and Zhou Lang were equals. What was this, rulers standing side by side? She was shipping it so hard!

Ji Xiunian, missing her daze entirely, said, “My own office… that’ll have to wait until the whole college moves into a new building.”

Fang Xun bit back a grin. “Honestly, I think the current arrangement is just fine.”

“Are you going to tell Dean Zhou?”

“No need.”

Right then, Ji Xiunian’s phone actually buzzed.

A voice call. From Zhou Lang.

Fang Xun: Holy crap!

She evaporated with admirable instinct.

Ji Xiunian stared at the screen a moment, declined the call, and typed: “What is it?”

“I hear you’re about to be appointed Vice Dean of Academic Affairs?”

“Mm. Yes.”

The chat showed “the other party is typing” for a long, long while, and nothing came through.

Ji Xiunian thought nothing of it, pocketed her phone, and went to class.

Zhou Lang had caught a cold and was resting at home—a rarity.

To keep up the pretense that she didn’t live alone, she spent most of her time at her own apartment and only came home when there was occasion. Today her mother had summoned her back.

Shen Shan fussed over her extravagantly. “What is the matter with you, child? A grown woman who can’t even take care of herself.”

Zhou Lang, as if deaf, stared blankly at her phone.

“What are you looking at!”

Shen Shan couldn’t stand it and snatched the phone away. The moment she saw the name on the screen, her face changed. She said nothing—only looked at Zhou Lang.

Zhou Lang looked quietly back.

Waiting for the interrogation.

But Shen Shan said nothing at all. She only sighed, long and soft, and stroked the top of her daughter’s head, gazing at her with something like heartbreak. “You child…”

Then her eyes reddened, and she turned and fled upstairs.

“Mom…”

Zhou Lang’s chest tightened too. Back then, Ji Changhong’s schemes had very nearly bankrupted the family; Shen Shan, pregnant with her second child, had been frightened to the edge of a miscarriage. That much was simply true.

She felt guilt and unease—and yet, beneath them, a flicker of hope.

Because Shen Shan’s reaction just now… hadn’t seemed like outright rejection after all.

Before she could sort out her thoughts, Zhou Xiang came home from outside and did a double take at the sight of her. “Sis, you’re here! I invited Ji Anyang over to hang out.”

Zhou Lang greeted Ji Anyang. “There’s fresh-cut fruit in the kitchen. Go on and have fun.”

Her tone carried an easy warmth, without a trace of distance.

Ji Anyang, always ill at ease with people who were overly polite to him, felt the friendliness and relaxed. “Thank you.”

Zhou Duo came back from his jog right then, and upon seeing Ji Anyang launched into a round of hearty questioning so enthusiastic it nearly frightened the shy, quiet boy—but he was clearly pleased too, and soon Zhou Duo was leading the two boys out to the courtyard to play darts.

Zhou Lang stayed seated.

After thinking it over for a long time, she called Ji Xiunian—and got hung up on.

In the end she could only send messages.

But partway through, she ran out of things to say.

Considering Ji Anyang had just had surgery and shouldn’t eat anything heavy or spicy, dinner was Clear Broth Beef Hot Pot. Shen Shan kept piling food into his bowl. “Little Yang, eat more, eat more.”

Ji Anyang, ears red at the sound of her gentle voice, was utterly overwhelmed by the warmth. It was Zhou Lang who called a halt. “That’s enough, Mom. Let the boy eat in peace.”

Ji Anyang shot her a grateful look.

After dinner, Zhou Lang felt like taking a walk, and offered to drive Ji Anyang home.

Same route as before. Ji Anyang was as courteous as ever, asking her to stop at the intersection.

Zhou Lang refused. “You just had surgery. I’ll take you right to your door.”

When the car stopped, Ji Anyang got out.

And Zhou Lang suddenly felt that something was wrong.

This was…

She could see it clearly: the potted plants on the balcony, the “Fu” character pasted upside down on the glass, the wind chime hanging beneath the eaves.

She made her voice sound ordinary. “How much farther to your place?”

Ji Anyang pointed. “Just that one.”

Zhou Lang’s heart slammed against her ribs. “You live at… No. 284?”

The house number she had noted down, that time she drove Ji Xiunian home.