Chapter 76

Lu Lingxuan had transferred all the dishes from Youjian Little Tavern into serving platters, hiding the takeout bags in the cabinet.

To keep Lin Huayan and the others from seeing them.

Sure, Du Heming knew she was married, but she had no idea that her wife was Xu Yaning.

Today, she didn’t want to steal the spotlight by flaunting her wife. She just wanted to properly “punish” Lin Huayan—drown her in jealousy, make her green with envy. Who asked her not to cherish it? Not to know a good thing when she had it.

All that talk of “ineffable troubles” and “circumstances beyond her control”? Bullshit.

In her book, love only had two outcomes: “blissfully happy together forever” or “part ways amicably.”

What was this half-assed “love without commitment”?

She couldn’t stand seeing her precious baby get strung along again and again by that “flaky girl” Lin Huayan.

Lin Huayan made her feelings for the baby obvious everywhere, but she always shrank back, making excuses, justifying herself. In plain terms, she just wouldn’t take responsibility.

What else was that if not a player?

Just moments ago when they came in, if Du Heming hadn’t known her precious baby had been rejected time and again, even she would’ve been fooled by Lin Huayan’s affectionate gaze!

Pretending under the clear light of day, putting on that fake deep affection—like someone else was the one who hurt the baby.

Lin Huayan had gotten lucky, too. The two times she’d bumped into her at the hospital, it hadn’t been Lu Lingxuan. Otherwise, she would’ve had hell to pay.

The dining table was a small, wall-hugging wooden rectangular one.

Du Heming and He Huan sat on one side, Lu Lingxuan and Lou Yixuan on the other, with Lin Huayan alone at one end.

Just separating Lou Yixuan and Lin Huayan wasn’t enough?

During the meal, Lu Lingxuan called Lou Yixuan “baby” with every bite, constantly piling food onto her plate. “Your favorite mushroom stir-fry. I washed these little mushrooms myself—super carefully.”

Lou Yixuan looked at the bowl in front of her, heaped into a little mountain by someone’s chopsticks one by one, and smiled. “My kitchen here’s open-style, so cooking fills it with smoke that doesn’t clear easily. That’s why these dishes are ones Lingxuan made at home and brought over. We live close, and with her taking care of me, my parents feel at ease.”

The unspoken message: You can all rest easy too. I might live alone, but I’m not unmanaged.

“Little Lu, who knew you had such a knack for cooking? It’s delicious,” Du Heming praised.

“Of course. This is practically restaurant quality.” Tonight’s dinner came from the head chef at the Small Tavern—her wife’s restaurant—and hearing it praised made Lu Lingxuan swell with pride.

“When Xuan Baby first got back from abroad, she stayed with me. I fattened her up nice and plump, but then she insisted on moving out. Look at this place—is this even a home? Almost a year now, and she hasn’t turned on the stove once. Who knows what junk she’s been eating out there? She’s gotten so skinny these past six months.”

She sat to Lou Yixuan’s right, and to her own right was Lin Huayan.

Out of nowhere, Lu Lingxuan reached up, pinched Lou Yixuan’s chin, and turned her face toward Lin Huayan. “Baby, pointy chins aren’t in anymore.”

Lou Yixuan blinked in dazed confusion, her eyes locking with Lin Huayan’s, forgetting to protest against Lu Lingxuan.

Maybe it was the pendant light making Lin Huayan’s frameless eyes look extra clear, but Lou Yixuan swore she saw a flicker of “heartache” in them.

Heartache for what?

For how “skinny” she’d gotten?

Or for Lu Lingxuan’s “prank”?

Lu Lingxuan let go quickly, then scolded, “What are you spacing out for? Eat properly. You’re so emaciated you’ve lost all shape. How am I supposed to explain this to your parents when you go back to Australia?”

“…” She had lost a few pounds, but nowhere near as dramatic as Lu Lingxuan made it sound.

“She has slimmed down a lot,” Du Heming chimed in. “Lou Lou, you’ve been traveling everywhere for plein air painting lately—must be tough, right?”

“It’s fine.”

After her short reply, Lou Yixuan shoveled in a bite of food, then glanced at Du Heming and He Huan across from her. “Teacher Du, Teacher He, you eat too.”

Du Heming picked up a slice of zucchini. “We’re eating, we’re eating.”

That gaze coming from her right was too thick, too sticky—it made Lou Yixuan’s breathing hitch.

In a way, she really admired Lin Huayan.

Admired how she could face someone she’d pushed away and rejected over and over with such open-hearted composure. How she could keep looking with those eyes brimming with affection.

Times like this, she almost wished Lin Huayan didn’t like her—wished she’d never known about it.

What she least wanted from Lin Huayan right now was heartache. Because heartache was usually laced with “sympathy” and “pity.”

She didn’t need Lin Huayan’s sympathy or pity.

Unless…

Unless Lin Huayan became her girlfriend. Then she could take all the heartache she wanted.

Just like she’d taken all of Lu Lingxuan’s.

After dinner, Du Heming helped Lu Lingxuan clear the table while Lu Lingxuan washed the fruit Lin Huayan and the others had brought, setting it out on the coffee table.

“Post-dinner fruit—help Xuanxuan eat more of it, or she won’t finish it alone.”

“Isn’t there you?” Lou Yixuan teased with a smile.

“Fruit’s got me, but meat doesn’t, right?” Lou Yixuan could out-eat her on fruit, but beat her on meat. “I want beef hotpot. When are you treating me?”

“…” Lou Yixuan was at a loss for words.

Those boxes of fruit Lin Huayan had brought that night—Lu Lingxuan had snatched a bunch and scarfed them down. Claiming fruit couldn’t be left overnight, she’d polished them off in no time.

Did she not know Lu Lingxuan’s little schemes, her petty tricks?

Afraid she’d go soft after eating too much and couldn’t stay mad at Lin Huayan—might even go chasing abuse again.

Beef hotpot was ancient history now.

That shop…

The best beef hotpot shop she’d ever been to—the one she’d shared with Lin Huayan—she probably wouldn’t go back to.

Meanwhile, the other party to that beef hotpot memory had her back to them, “studying” the easel Lou Yixuan had neatly stowed against the wall.

Clipped to the easel was a sketch: the outline of a woman with her hair in an updo.

No facial features.

But Lin Huayan recognized “her” on instinct.

Someone she’d seen—how could she not?

Lou Yixuan stayed silent. Lu Lingxuan huffed, “See? No meat without me.”

She turned back toward the kitchen area, chatting with Du Heming, who was wiping down the table. “Teacher Du, has she ever treated you to meat?”

“Hah? This…”

“She hasn’t, has she?”

“…” Having fully experienced Lu Lingxuan’s rapid-fire banter mode, Du Heming wasn’t sure whether to say “yes” or “no.”

“Teacher Du, you choking too? Need some hot water?”

“No, no, no—I’m fine, not choking.”

Over there, the two gossiped and laughed. Here, Lou Yixuan led Lin Huayan and He Huan to the sofa.

The sofa faced a blank wall.

Ever the good host, Lou Yixuan asked, “I have a projector. Want to watch a movie or something?”

Lin Huayan shook her head.

He Huan added, “TV’s no fun. Tell us about the places you’ve been sketching—recommend some. Maybe one of us will visit them someday.”

She wasn’t hinting at or singling out Lin Huayan, so she added, “The photos you posted in Moments are gorgeous. The natural scenery and local vibes are all so beautiful.”

She figured Lin Huayan wanted to hear it too.

So they could all listen together. Nice.

The living room sofa was a four-seater—plenty spacious for two.

Lou Yixuan deliberately left the long couch for Du Heming, curling up barefoot in the window-side beanbag instead.

Her left calf was still wrapped in gauze, a bit exposed after she sat. The wound beneath looked as gruesome as ever.

The living room wasn’t big—normal voices carried easily.

The other two finished up quickly: one sat by He Huan, the other by Lou Yixuan.

Lou Yixuan shared her recent travels, her pleasant voice like a radio host’s, weaving one vivid, everyday-yet-beautiful story after another. The imagery was strong.

“Your old compositions must’ve always gotten top marks,” He Huan sighed admiringly. “Such flair for words— no wonder your paintings are so full of narrative.”

Du Heming still had no idea what painting Lou Yixuan had given He Huan. She’d been curious enough to ask several times but could never bring herself to.

“To each their own. But I like Teacher He’s phrase—’narrative feel.'”

He Huan’s words reminded Lou Yixuan of Kinla, adding a spark to her expression, making her face even more radiant than before. “A friend of mine said the same. She’s one of my guides on the path of painting.”

“Who?”

Hearing her precious baby mention such an important “friend,” Lu Lingxuan felt a twinge of wariness and annoyance at first, then relaxed. “Lemme guess—your curator big sis?”

She didn’t mind eating vinegar over Curator Sis.

But Lin Huayan would!

Lou Yixuan had just hummed in agreement when Lu Lingxuan dropped a bombshell: “If I were you, I’d repay her with my body.”

What an amazing curator sis—not just flying all the way to Huai’an to see her, but sharing major commercial collab credit, letting her strut at Haifan and Tianmu.

Last December, when Lou Yixuan went to Jingping for that exhibition, He Huan and Du Heming had seen Kinla in her Moments.

But they only knew Kinla as the director of Bona Art Museum, a benefactor Lou Yixuan met in Australia.

They had no idea it went further…

“Director Jin has a keen eye. Anyone she favors is a rare talent in the art world—and must have exceptional gifts themselves,” Lin Huayan said, gazing at Lou Yixuan with full admiration. “Geniuses like that shine wherever they go.”

No need to cling to other powerhouses.

Lou Yixuan felt like she’d been scalded, her fingers unconsciously gripping the sofa fabric as she smiled back at Lin Huayan. “Teacher Lin flatters me.”

And Lu Lingxuan inwardly cursed “flaky girl” again.

How many girls could resist Lin Huayan’s brand of “fishing”? No wonder her precious baby, once hooked, couldn’t break free.

Being clear-headed wasn’t scary. Sinking wasn’t scary. The scariest was this sober sinking—like her baby.

Nine oxen couldn’t drag her back.

What to do?

The hook was probably swallowed deep into her guts by now.

A poison hook through the intestines—yanking it out forcibly might kill her baby! How could she dare?

They chatted until nine at night. He Huan and Lin Huayan exchanged a glance and stood to leave.

Lou Yixuan started to rise to see them out, but Lu Lingxuan grabbed her, arms wide like a baby begging for a hug. “Wait, wait—my leg’s numb. Fish me up.”

Lou Yixuan laughed, indulgent yet exasperated. “Let me stand first, okay?”

“Oh.”

Lu Lingxuan obediently let go, thumping her leg—but after two thumps, she mischievously gripped Lou Yixuan’s right ankle instead.

Ankles were a sensitive spot for many—and Lou Yixuan was one of them. Lu Lingxuan knew it well.

Lou Yixuan had just stood when her ankle was grabbed. She let out a soft yelp, stumbling back toward the sofa.

Lu Lingxuan’s plan had been to kneel up, steady her, and make Lin Huayan that flaky girl eat more vinegar.

But Lin Huayan moved faster, already on her feet, arm outstretched to steady Lou Yixuan. “Careful.”

Now Lu Lingxuan was sandwiched between the two standing women. Hilarious.

So frustrating.

Lin Huayan had been closest to Lou Yixuan—just one or two steps to reach her. Their hands clasped tight, palms locked.

But before the warmth could even transfer, Lou Yixuan pulled away, nodding at her. “Thanks.”

—Lin Huayan, after tonight, I won’t give you another chance to push me away. Not in any sense.

Only now did she truly feel the conviction behind Lou Yixuan’s words. Not in some emotional outburst, but in this moment of perfect calm—clearly, decisively ending the touch.

All “closeness” reset to zero.

“You’re welcome.”

Lin Huayan stepped back half a pace with her right foot, eyes dropping. “Sorry, I stepped on your rug.”

The lime-green shag rug was plush and soft, like stepping into spring.

And her little cat sprite lived in spring.

“No worries. It’s getting hot—time for a thinner one anyway.”

Yeah, spring was gone.

Her little cat sprite was gone.

Where was spring now?

“Sorry.” Lin Huayan apologized again.

Memories were like a worn and rusted plectrum, endlessly replaying the withered colors of spring, a continuous bitterness that swallowed summer blossoms and winter snow alike.

The snapped guitar string slumbered eternally beneath the wasteland, never to sprout green buds again.

But she was no guitar string.

She was the seed Lou Yixuan had planted, the flower Lou Yixuan had guarded through bitterness.

She could sprout. She could bloom.

As Lu Lingxuan saw the three guests out, Lou Yixuan retrieved the thermos bucket and glass container that Lin Huayan had brought her yesterday from the cabinet and handed them to her at the door.

“Teacher Lin, your things. I’ve washed them clean. You can take them back today.”

A simple, convenient handoff.

But Lin Huayan merely glanced faintly at them and didn’t take them.

Instead, she met Lou Yixuan’s smiling eyes directly. “I’m not heading back to school tonight, so could Teacher Lou bring them for me next Thursday? I’ll pick them up from your office at noon.”

Lou Yixuan: “…”

Du Heming was baffled too: “…”

Wasn’t it because Teacher He wasn’t going home this weekend—that normally Teacher Lin drove, but this time Teacher He was driving instead?

Had she misheard before they came, about coming together and leaving together?

Teacher Lin wasn’t driving and wasn’t going back to school with them—where was she headed?

He Huan, based on her own “understanding,” offered a rough explanation: “I drove them here today. Teacher Lin has something later and isn’t returning to school right away. Teacher Du and I will head back first.”

“Oh, then…” Lou Yixuan looked at Du Heming.

Want me to pass them on again?

Du Heming wasn’t having it this time. She immediately played dumb, slumping softly against He Huan. “Teacher He, let’s go. I think Aunt Flo’s coming.”

Her period was always in the early part of the month.

It was sudden but had a reason. He Huan allowed Du Heming’s clinginess, though her heart pounded wildly.

She wanted to leave quickly too. “Teacher Lou, see you next week.”

Lou Yixuan let her hand with the bag drop, forcing a resigned smile. “Alright, see you next week.”

She couldn’t dodge it anymore.

Even Teacher Du wasn’t helping her.

Nearby, Lu Lingxuan itched to snatch the bag and shove it into Lin Huayan’s hands, make her take her own stuff and vanish.

But she’d just botched one scheme and made a fool of herself, only to get pinched on the arm by her darling as a warning—Behave, or no more troublemaking, or I’ll tell Grandpa, Grandma, Dad, and Mom about your tears-soaked rice glorious deed.

Tears-soaked rice…

Black history. Thinking of it once made her cringe once.

Too mortifying to recall.

“Don’t worry, we’ll see her next week—she’ll be sprinting like the wind by then.”

Lu Lingxuan didn’t forget to reassure Lin Huayan. “Teacher Lin, rest easy too. I bought that carpet—it’s not expensive. So what if it’s stepped on? Anyway, it’ll all get tossed eventually.”

Her pointed “eventually” was understood by everyone present.

It wasn’t about Lin Huayan dirtying the carpet. Lou Yixuan was moving out, done with the place—so of course everything would be thrown away.

“Let’s go. I’ll walk you downstairs.”

Lin Huayan caught the urging in Lu Lingxuan’s words, overt and subtle alike, and finally stepped out the door. “Miss Lu, please stay. We can find our own way down.”

“How could I? I have to see you off. You’re Xuanxuan’s good friends and colleagues who’ve looked after her so much this past year—no way can I neglect you, not even a little.”

Lou Yixuan chimed in: “Let Lingxuan see you out on my behalf. She’s full of energy—walking a few extra steps will tire her out and help her sleep better tonight.”

Under Lu Lingxuan and Lou Yixuan’s insistence, Lu Lingxuan escorted them all the way to the garage.

Along the way, Du Heming walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Lu Lingxuan, chatting now and then about Lou Yixuan’s recovery progress and her daily routine these past few days—so Lin Huayan would know and feel at ease.

She fully understood Lu Lingxuan’s “hostile” stance toward Teacher Lin.

Though she leaned more toward Lou Yixuan, pitied her more, she saw Teacher Lin every day. Teacher Lin’s day-by-day pallor, a far cry from last semester’s radiance—she couldn’t muster any “resentment” anymore.

“Teacher Du, next time we get the chance, let’s grab drinks again.”

“Sure.”

“Teacher He, Teacher Lin—thank you so much for taking care of our Xuanxuan this past year. Wishing you all the best in life and work.”

“You’re too kind.” He Huan responded to Lu Lingxuan and pressed the car key. “We’re here. Head back up.”

Lin Huayan just nodded slightly: “Goodbye.”

Lu Lingxuan thought Don’t come back, but kept a polite smile on her face, waving. “Goodbye, teachers.”

He Huan and Du Heming took the front seats, one on each side.

As Lin Huayan opened the back door, Lu Lingxuan called out: “Teacher Lin.”

Her right hand extended something.

Lin Huayan turned at the sound, eyeing Lu Lingxuan’s outstretched hand.

“A gift for you.”

Only when Lu Lingxuan raised her hand a bit higher, her smile deepening, did Lin Huayan dubiously take the lightweight, thin item.

At the same time came Lu Lingxuan’s words: “Lots of people love her. She’ll be just fine.”