Chapter 24 Part 1

Ji Anyang visibly faltered.

The question… he didn’t know how to answer. He had hardly ever been close to anyone his own age. Apart from the fights he’d picked as a small child when people said he had no father, he had long since learned to meet such questions with silence.

But this was Zhou Xiang’s sister, and she had been so good to him. He couldn’t bring himself to play deaf.

The boy’s hanging hand clenched unconsciously into the fabric of his trousers. His palms were sweating; his voice came out low and rough. “It’s… a boarding arrangement, I suppose.”

“Boarding…” Zhou Lang murmured.

What a fright. She’d actually thought, for a moment, that this was… Ji Xiunian’s child.

She realized at once how unusual her reaction must have seemed, and recovered quickly. “Oh… and how does the family you board with treat you?”

“Very well. They take good care of me day to day, and they’ve never asked anything of me… it’s just that she’s rather busy with work…”

“Good. Then that’s what matters. If anything ever upsets you, or if you ever need help, tell Zhou Xiang.”

With that, everything made sense. Because he was boarding, he’d refused to call his family after the fight at school—afraid, clearly, of being a burden.

Zhou Lang let the subject drop and pressed tonight’s gift into his hands. “Then we won’t see you in. Rest well, and take care of that body of yours. Come over in a few weeks—we’re taking the yacht out to sea.”

Ji Anyang flushed with embarrassment, then bowed to her, sudden and solemn. “Thank you, big sis!”

Out to sea… He’d spent his childhood traveling from hospital to hospital. He didn’t think he had ever truly played on the sea.

Zhou Xiang was speechless. “What’s with the bowing, Ji Anyang? My sis is your sis. Acting this polite—is that your way of saying I’m not your bro?”

Zhou Lang watched him with a smile, her manner warmer still. “It’s fine. Go on in.”

She stood at the roadside until Ji Anyang went inside and a light came on in the plant-filled house—confirming her memory had not deceived her—before saying to Zhou Xiang, “Let’s go.”

Zhou Xiang marveled suddenly, “How is his health that bad? Surgery, boarding with strangers—and he’s never said a word about any of it.”

Zhou Lang drove, eyes on the road, voice perfectly natural. “Then get closer to him. Treat that friend well.”

“Of course I will.” Then his tone turned sour. “And by the way, sis—you said you’d take him out on the yacht. I’ve asked you how many times, and every time you said you were busy. So tell me, who’s your actual blood brother here?!”

“You, of course.” Zhou Lang kept her eyes on the road.

“Anyone would think he was the brother!”

“Zhou Xiang, how old are you?”

Zhou Lang knew her brother loved to wheedle and fish for affection, and didn’t take it seriously.

Meanwhile, Ji Anyang walked in the door to find Ji Xiunian sitting in the living room with a magazine. He paused. “I’m home.”

Ji Xiunian’s eyes went straight to the small gift box in his hand. “What did you buy?”

“It’s a fountain pen. My classmate’s sister gave it to me.”

“Pick out something suitable and give your deskmate something in return.”

Ji Anyang nodded, his voice unusually light. “Mm. I’ll go look sometime. His sister also said she’d take me out to sea on a yacht.”

Ji Xiunian arched a brow, surprised. “This classmate’s family is quite well-off, then?”

“Mm…” Ji Anyang grew suddenly awkward. “Would it put a big strain on the family’s finances?”

Ji Xiunian laughed. “Relax. I’m probably richer than you imagine.”

She rarely discussed the family’s finances with him. Ji Anyang fell silent, mentally tallying how much his years of treatment had cost.

And wondering how many years of work it would take to repay.

Seeing him go quiet again, Ji Xiunian didn’t press. She only reminded him once more, “Remember to invite them over. It’s basic courtesy.”

“I know. I’ll tell you once we’ve set a time.”

“Mm. No rush. Get some rest—put the book down.”

Ji Anyang wished her goodnight and carried the gift to his room.

Ji Xiunian watched his back and realized, suddenly, that she had never seen him this happy.

Mid-Autumn Festival followed hard on National Day.

Fang Xun was in a wonderful mood, humming as she climbed the stairs—when someone called out from behind her. “Teacher Little Fang?”

Fang Xun: …

“Good morning, Dean Zhou.”

“Good morning.”

Zhou Lang looked to be in fine spirits. “Are you free?”

“Mm? What is it?”

“Our partner company sent over a whole truckload of mooncakes, all in gift boxes. I had Le Cheng drive it here—it’s downstairs. Go through it with Cen Yao and distribute them to the college’s teachers.”

“Oh— you’re too generous.”

Fang Xun checked the market price of one box—several hundred yuan—and nearly fell over. “One for everyone?”

“Mm. A whole truckload. Plenty to go around. Count the staff—two boxes each, four for anyone with a big family. And you and Cen Yao take two extra each.”

Fang Xun accepted the task with a beaming smile. “On it! I’ll go tell Cen Yao right now.”

“Hold on.” Zhou Lang stopped her, and added, “Don’t tell Professor Ji they’re from me. Just say the college distributed them.”

Fang Xun blinked. “Got it, got it, got it. Gotta keep a low profile!”

Mamma mia! Was this love?!

Zhou Lang waved, smiling. “Go on.”

“Oh, right!” Zhou Lang called after her again.

“Yes?” Fang Xun turned back after two steps.

Zhou Lang’s tone was offhand, as if mentioning some trivial thing. “She doesn’t like things too sweet.”

Fang Xun understood instantly who “she” was.

Her gossip-loving heart nearly detonated on the spot!

“Understood! I’ll set aside two boxes of the less-sweet ones for Teacher Ji.”

Two boxes?

Which meant… there weren’t many family members at home.

Zhou Lang nodded. “Go on. Nothing else this time.”

Fang Xun dragged Cen Yao around delivering beautifully packaged, eye-wateringly expensive mooncakes to every teacher in the college.

She saved Ji Xiunian’s office for last.

Ji Xiunian was preparing her lessons. She rose to accept them, smiling her thanks. “What’s the occasion? Why give me mooncakes?”

Fang Xun waved her hands frantically. “Not from me, not from me! These are from the college. Every teacher gets them.”

As she said it, she snuck a glance at Zhou Lang, who sat primly upright, the very picture of detached indifference.

After Fang Xun left, Zhou Lang wandered over to inspect the mooncakes. “Professor Ji has developed a taste for sweets? I remember you never used to like them.”

“People change,” said Ji Xiunian.

“Hm. True enough. Well, if you don’t like sweets, hand them over, then?”

Ji Xiunian was puzzled. “Didn’t Fang Xun give you any?”

Zhou Lang nodded. “Right. She told me they’d run out.”

Ji Xiunian passed her a box. “If you want them, take them.”

Zhou Lang thanked her with a smile, and before long went out to teach. Ji Xiunian stayed at her desk, working—until someone arrived with a delivery. “Hello, is this Madam Ji?”

Ji Xiunian: “What’s this?”

“Your flowers, please sign.”

Before she knew what was happening, she was holding an enormous bouquet. No name on the card. Then she checked WeChat: Zhou Lang had replied three minutes ago. “I don’t like taking advantage. I took your mooncakes, so here’s a bouquet.”

Ji Xiunian: “…”

Thank goodness the flowers weren’t suggestive red roses, but clean, simple jasmine.

She thought for a moment, then set the bouquet on the windowsill.

When Zhou Lang returned from class and found her still there: “Professor Ji, that’s cold. I send you flowers and you stick them on the windowsill?”

Ji Xiunian: “My apologies. I don’t like jasmine.”

Zhou Lang: “Oh. What a shame.”

The tone was light as air, betraying nothing.

“By the way—Professor Ji is treating everyone to dinner tonight, isn’t she?”

“…Mm.”

Not long ago, Ji Xiunian had passed the University Teaching Committee’s review and become one of the youngest vice deans. The college’s leadership had undergone a sweeping reshuffle, and faint undercurrents stirred between the factions. Ji Xiunian pretended to notice none of it—she had no interest in such things.

But this dinner, she had to host.

In the past, Ji Xiunian could have declined such banquets. Now it was difficult: the Ning University Faction’s teachers had all made their wishes urgently known, and she could only nod. Once again, the venue was the Yihe Hotel.

Ji Xiunian was a tea drinker. Normally, quiet as she was, she drew little attention—but tonight people wanted to toast her, and it seemed poor form to raise a teacup.

Zhou Lang, smiling faintly, rose and delivered a few polished pleasantries, steering the room away in a couple of sentences. By the end, Ji Xiunian had taken barely half a sip, while Zhou Lang had drunk three or five cups.

She had quietly blocked every single toast meant for her.

Ji Xiunian didn’t notice at first. Only when a Ning University Faction teacher grumbled that the evening had turned into a showcase for the Yongzhou Faction did it belatedly sink in… Zhou Lang had drunk far too much tonight.

Even if everything people said were true, there was no need for this.

Ji Xiunian’s brow creased slightly. She wanted to speak—and held back.

Meng Xiaoying, never her ally, jeered, “What’s the matter, Professor Ji? Upset that someone stole your spotlight?”

Ji Xiunian gave her one cold, flat look.

Ever since Ji Xiunian had beaten her to full professor by a single step, this woman had suspected for years that Ji Xiunian was the anonymous informant. Her tongue was venomous, but at least she’d never actually done anything.

Still, the remark made the table awkward.

Who could tell what the relationship between these two even was? At odds, they looked like sworn enemies; then, in a blink, they could smile and make conversation.

Zhou Lang couldn’t have cared less what anyone thought. She had, in fact, drunk too much—her stomach churned, and her gaze had begun to drift.

Ji Xiunian watched her with a darkening face and murmured to Fang Xun, “Pour her some tea.”

Fang Xun thought: Why me again!

She was beginning to feel like the magpie bridge between the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, ferrying love letters back and forth all day. Damn it all—she herself had been single since birth!

Grumbling inwardly, she still obediently urged Zhou Lang to slow down.

Zhou Lang arched a brow. Her cheeks, flushed with alcohol, were vividly lovely, her eyes bright and glancing. She fixed them on Ji Xiunian and smiled. “Fine, then. Tea it is.”

Ji Xiunian pretended not to see. But after that little scene, the toasts died down anyway.

However deep the drinking culture ran, everyone present was an educated person; sometimes the gesture was enough.

After the meal, Zhou Lang slumped back in her chair and didn’t move for a long while.

Ji Xiunian went to the restroom early; when she returned, people were leaving in twos and threes. Zhou Lang still leaned against her chairback, looking miserable, eyes half closed. Ji Xiunian called her. “Zhou Lang?”

Zhou Lang, eyes half shut, found her voice inexplicably reassuring. She meant to answer—but a thought turned in her muddled head, and she decided not to speak, only squeezing out a lazy “Mm.”

Seeing how drunk she seemed, Ji Xiunian shook her head and walked over. Her brow was knotted tight. When did she become such a drinker?

She never used to be. Just how much had she…

Zhou Lang’s career had flourished these past years—but to think how many banquets like this must lie behind that flourishing made Ji Xiunian’s brow furrow all over again.

Just then Fang Xun came out of the restroom too. “Teacher Ji, you’re still here… Oh, Dean Zhou’s here too.”

Ji Xiunian made a sound of assent. “She’s drunk.”

Fang Xun: “Oh, then you take her home! She did see you home last time, after all.”

Hehehe—Dean Zhou, remember to give me a few extra boxes of mooncakes next time.

Ji Xiunian: “You take her?”

“Me?” Fang Xun refused on the spot. “I can’t, I don’t dare, I’m not worthy.”

Ji Xiunian laughed despite herself. “Nonsense. What’s worthy or unworthy got to do with it?”

“I really don’t dare…”

Ji Xiunian could see it was true: Fang Xun genuinely quailed at the sight of Zhou Lang, though Zhou Lang had never once given her trouble.