Gu Yining’s panicked “avoiding suspicion” was like a confession of guilt. Furious, Zhou Hui in the water shrieked, “What suspicion are you avoiding?! I’m your teacher—your math teacher! What kind of suspicion are you dragging me into?!”
The sharp, capable woman of the business world had been driven out of her mind by this dim-witted student.
Then she turned her head. That familiar face—her old friend from years past—was frozen in time fifteen years ago.
How long is a life? Fifteen years, more than five thousand days—could be a quarter of a lifetime.
Zhou Hui remembered their old days together. They’d shared a class; she hadn’t liked Gu Yining, but Ji Huaqing insisted Gu Yining was a good seed who, with a tug, would find her way back to the top.
The two of them had argued over Gu Yining countless times. Until the mock exams, when Gu Yining returned to peak form, placing in the top three of the entire grade.
Seeing those scores, Zhou Hui witnessed how Ji Huaqing couldn’t hold down the corners of her mouth. Back then, Zhou Hui had tactlessly asked, “Are you sweet on this student?”
High-school Gu Yining was green, pale-skinned, studied classical dance, had lovely posture, and was chased by many admirers. Liking her was only natural.
Ji Huaqing had reined in her smile and answered matter-of-factly, “She’s my student. I’m responsible for her future. Don’t project your gay thoughts onto me.”
Tonight the stars were scattered and bright; the sparkling sky, as if reading their feelings, was exceptionally beautiful.
From the corner of her eye, Zhou Hui took in Ji Huaqing’s face—exactly as it was all those years ago, the features and bone structure unchanged. No matter how good your skincare, this was impossible. Age-defying beauty?
She looked back at Gu Yining. The once-green, beautiful girl, whose soft, water-like eyes used to melt Ji Huaqing’s heart every time, now stood in the lamplight, her languid, relaxed expression touched with an air of ascetic restraint.
“Are you going to get out?” Ji Huaqing couldn’t help asking, reaching out to the person in the water.
As she came close, Zhou Hui swam over and looked at that face up close—skin white and poreless. Was this a face that belonged to someone over forty?
Zhou Hui wanted to swear. She was just jealous—jealous that Ji Huaqing had skin this well-maintained.
Zhou Hui climbed out on her own. Gu Yining handed her the towel. “I’m sorry. Let me get you a robe. We have new clothes in the house—pick out a suitable set.”
Lu Xi had bought plenty of clothes for Gu Yining, but Gu Yining rarely came home, so the closets were packed with unworn pieces.
Zhou Hui wanted to swear, but her gaze fell on Ji Huaqing instead. She was wearing a red silk nightgown—looked like one of Gu Yining’s. Zhou Hui remembered that Gu Yining loved red. Ji Huaqing’s snow-white legs looked like they’d been soaked in milk, half-hidden beneath the hem, her whole being swinging between youth and sensuality.
Whether youthful or sensual, it made Zhou Hui mad with envy.
She didn’t ask how Ji Huaqing had spent the fifteen years. Instead, she asked out of pure curiosity: “How do you maintain your skin?”
Faced with her friend’s question, Ji Huaqing didn’t know how to answer. On a whim, she said, “You’ve aged quite a bit.”
Zhou Hui: “?” Listen to yourself. Is that polite?
But they had once been best friends. Zhou Hui had no children of her own, and for years, she’d helped Gu Yining raise Ji Huaqing’s niece. She didn’t get angry, only pressed: “Remember to tell me your secret sometime.”
An arm’s length away, Zhou Hui studied her old friend without restraint.
Composed, youthful, beautiful. She lived with abandon. The splendor had faded, and she had returned—still a maiden.
The living room’s light wrapped around the three of them, the crystal chandelier glittering like a sky full of stars.
Zhou Hui, changed into a dress, sat on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other, her finger rubbing across the tablet screen as she read through the whole story. She had connections in the elementary school world; within half an hour of Gu Yining’s call, she’d gotten the surveillance footage and learned everything.
Zhou Hui met more parents every day than Gu Yining ate rice. She gave her verdict first: “Not hard. But Ningning did hit people. Apologize, pay medical fees—fine. After the apology, I’ll have those three transferred. Bullying isn’t something that started yesterday. I’ve asked around—they bully others constantly. On my way here, I contacted the parents of kids they’d picked on before. We’ll band together and teach them a lesson.”
Ji Huaqing was slightly startled. She almost instinctively looked at Gu Yining. Gu Yining was tucked in a corner, the line of her neck falling into lamplight, her fair skin dazzling in that moment.
Watching her languid bearing, the cold smile on her thin lips, Ji Huaqing swallowed back her words.
“That’s your specialty. You handle it.” Gu Yining lowered her eyes and laughed. “I won’t interfere.”
Matters of Ji Ningning’s daily life were handled by the Gu family; matters of school by Zhou Hui. Each did their part, and sometimes Ji Huaqing’s old colleagues would take her out on holidays.
It had become an unspoken agreement: the affection they’d had for Ji Huaqing was poured onto Ji Ningning.
Zhou Hui sighed in relief, put down the tablet, and her gaze unwittingly fell on Ji Huaqing. “Did you never come back to Hang City before this?”
Ji Huaqing was startled. From the corner of her eye, she glanced at Gu Yining, at a loss.
Every move she made landed in Zhou Hui’s eyes. She was as pure and clean as snow, deferring to Gu Yining, with no will of her own.
More like a blank sheet of paper, painted with the marks of Gu Yining.
Was she really Ji Huaqing?
For a moment, Zhou Hui lost focus, her gaze tracing those delicate features, floating over the eyes, the nose, the lips, the long swan neck, and the rare glimpse of clean, distinct collarbones.
She asked suspiciously, “Who recommended you to teach at No. 1 High?”
“Wasn’t it you?” Ji Huaqing’s expression flickered, then she realized. “You don’t think I’m Ji Huaqing?”
Zhou Hui laughed awkwardly. “You don’t look like Ji Huaqing from fifteen years ago except for that face. You’re a teacher, yet you defer to your own student on everything. Don’t you have a brain of your own?”
Ji Huaqing sighed. “I am Ji Huaqing. If you don’t believe me, ask Gu Yining. She’s the one who brought me out of the police station.”
“The police station? Where did you come back from?”
Gu Yining said, “Myanmar.”
Zhou Hui burst out laughing, flopping on the sofa, laughing until she could barely breathe.
Just then, Lu Xi came out. “Ningning’s asleep. Keep your voices down.”
Zhou Hui’s laughter was wild, wild enough that the whole villa could hear.
Gu Yining’s eyes moved, watching her laugh in silence. Ji Huaqing was equally bewildered, her face flushed with embarrassment. She didn’t understand what was so funny.
Gu Yining walked to the fish tank, her long fingers taking a pinch of fish food and dropping it in. She waved Ji Huaqing over and handed her the food.
Ji Huaqing loved keeping fish. The tank was as tall as a person, swimming with multicolored koi, vivid and distinct.
She fell in love with it at first sight. Gu Yining quietly slipped back to Zhou Hui. “I’m entrusting Ningning’s matter to you.”
“You’re kicking me out?” Zhou Hui snapped back to reality. “She didn’t come back from Myanmar. She’s not Ji Huaqing either. Tell me the truth—did you take in a canary? Someone who’ll do whatever you say?”
Gu Yining opened her mouth, then didn’t explain. “Think whatever you want.”
“You’re insane! Even if she looks the same, she is not Ji Huaqing.” Zhou Hui said urgently, lowering her voice. “Do you love Ji Huaqing the person, or that face?”
“Both.” Gu Yining’s voice was hoarse, her gaze darkening.
Zhou Hui was about to break down. She’d watched Gu Yining grow into who she was today. She’d had a bright future, yet she kept making a fool of herself over love.
“She’s dead. She died long ago.” Zhou Hui pleaded earnestly. “The counselor Song Mingyao set up for you—did you go?”
She was the one who’d recommended the counselor to Song Mingyao.
Gu Yining really was sick. Whenever she had time, she went to Hang City and bought clothes in Ji Huaqing’s old sizes—dresses and shirts in summer, down jackets and scarves in winter. She’d keep the Ji house spotless and hole herself up for weeks, no one knowing what she did in there.
Everyone else had moved on. Only she was still trapped in the past.
“I haven’t gone yet. But I will. Look—it’s getting late. You should head home.” Gu Yining smiled and dismissed her guest, rising and inviting her out with the most elegant, the most lucid gesture.
Zhou Hui was angry enough to die, but she was pushed out of the villa by Gu Yining.
Gu Yining walked to the fish tank and suddenly laughed, blinking at Ji Huaqing. “Time for bed.”
Ji Huaqing’s eyes lingered on the koi swimming freely in the water as her gaze grew distant.
“Just now, Teacher Zhou said you’re my canary. Do you know what a ‘canary’ is?” Gu Yining’s eyes were like fallen petals, the smile at the corners of her mouth like a withered tree meeting spring.
Reading between the lines, Ji Huaqing heard an undertone in her voice. “Does it have to do with a lover?”
“A lover kept in secret.”
Ji Huaqing opened her mouth, like a fish stranded on the sand, gasping for air, her whole body uncomfortable.
Gu Yining’s smile was cold, mocking—but her expression was earnest. Ji Huaqing could see her long, curling lashes holding the last light of the room.
The heat had drained from her body, yet, unknown to herself, she was filled with moonlight.
Ji Huaqing said, “I am not your lover.”
Gu Yining reached out a pale finger and touched the curve of her chin. She laughed. “Teacher Ji, you’re overthinking. I would only place you openly before the world.”
The gesture was deeply intimate—the kind reserved between lovers.
After everything that had happened tonight, ripples spread across the tranquil lake of Ji Huaqing’s heart. She didn’t refuse.
Gu Yining, however, withdrew her hand, her throat moving as she asked seriously, “Ningning’s asleep. Can I go back to my room to sleep? I haven’t showered yet.”
