Chapter 17: The Bar

Ten Li of Jianghuai was a famous bar in Hang City.

The scenery of the Jianghuai region had always been renowned; the night views with their flowing lanterns were a wonder of Hang City. In recent years, the municipal Culture and Tourism Bureau had been reforming, attracting tourists from far and wide.

The riverside promenade was crowded with tourists snapping photos. New murals had been built along the main street, each scene linked to the next—striking together—forming the Along the River During the Qingming Festival that had awed people for a thousand years.

The murals made visitors feel as though they’d stepped into the Song Dynasty, glimpsing a prosperous street scene, traveling back a thousand years to wander alongside the ancients.

As the car stopped, Ji Huaqing looked at the streetscape, entranced, and sighed: “It’s so beautiful.”

She studied classical literature; she knew the Qingming scroll. Looking at this ancient-style scenery before her, she was deeply shaken.

Gu Yining got out. Her red dress joined the streetscape, more beautiful than the moonlight.

Song Mingyao went to park. The two walked from the main street, squeezing through the thronging crowd. Lively, dusty energy rushed at them.

Gu Yining’s appearance drew attention everywhere she went. Unruffled, she watched the scenery, occasionally explaining things to Ji Huaqing.

“In the last couple of years, everywhere has been courting tourists. The Culture and Tourism Bureau has put out all kinds of slogans, and Hang City’s visitor numbers have soared.”

“Our company made an ad promoting this street. I’ll show you later.”

“What does your company do?” Ji Huaqing tried to keep her tone casual, watching Gu Yining closely. After fifteen years, she felt Gu Yining was full of secrets.

Gu Yining was beautiful, intellectual—but she was also veiled in mist, daunting to approach.

Ji Huaqing wanted to reach out, but didn’t dare. The moment she hesitated, Gu Yining pulled away again.

She felt it clearly: Gu Yining was no longer the obedient girl of fifteen years ago. Instead, Gu Yining was like an Unattainable Flower, high above, looking down at the teacher who had vanished for years and suddenly returned.

At that moment, Ji Huaqing couldn’t tell what her feelings for Gu Yining truly were.

She followed Gu Yining step by step to Ten Li of Jianghuai. A crowd stood outside, queuing for photo ops.

Curious, she watched the tourists taking pictures. She followed Gu Yining inside—and was stopped by the doorman. Gu Yining, ahead, turned back and said, “She’s with me.”

The doorman apologized: “I’m sorry. Please, come in.”

“Is there a restriction to entering here?” Ji Huaqing understood—the tourists outside could only take photos; they couldn’t get in.

“It’s a members-only thing.”

They walked in. The bar’s entrance was lined with rows of lanterns, their light falling on beautiful women.

Looking at beauties by lantern light—the more you look, the more beautiful they become.

Deeper inside, the light dimmed. In the booths sat men and women amid wine and neon.

“Here, Gu Yining!”

A call. Ji Huaqing looked over. Five steps away, a girl in a booth waved them over.

She wore a simple T-shirt, collar slightly open, fine collarbones showing.

Pei Yirou was standing. Beside her sat a woman who lifted her chin, her cold gaze landing on Ji Huaqing.

As they neared the booth, Gu Yining suddenly reached out and took Ji Huaqing’s hand, pulling her inside.

“This is Cheng Qingtang.” Gu Yining introduced her, telling Ji Huaqing, “We’ve worked together for five years, always pleasantly.”

Ji Huaqing remembered—the bellflowers yesterday had been sent by Cheng Qingtang.

“Hello, I’m Ji Huaqing.” Ji Huaqing greeted her.

Cheng Qingtang had delicate, clean features, a simple purity about her, a lofty nature untouched by worldly smoke. In looks, she was no less than Gu Yining. But her eyes were deep and quiet as a dark night, discouraging approach.

Gu Yining seemed cold, but the corner of her mouth would lift in small arcs from time to time, giving her a careless, free-spirited feel.

Cheng Qingtang, by contrast, gave an impression of gloom and unpredictability.

After sizing her up, Ji Huaqing sat down with Gu Yining.

Pei Yirou glanced at her, a smile growing on her face. “Sis Gu, the match my mom introduced to you last time—did you look at it?”

“Yes. I told her I don’t like men.” Gu Yining said directly after a brief pause.

A look of embarrassment crossed Pei Yirou’s face. “So she found you another one. A woman this time.”

Meanwhile, Cheng Qingtang opened a bottle, handed it to Gu Yining, and opened another to place in front of Ji Huaqing.

Looking at the bottle before her, Ji Huaqing was curious. The next second, her bottle was taken away as Gu Yining called a server over. “Bring a few bottles of Wangzai milk.”

“What decent person comes to Ten Li of Jianghuai to drink Wangzai milk?” Pei Yirou objected, displeasure showing in her eyes. “If you won’t drink, you shouldn’t have come.”

Ji Huaqing’s clean face flushed a faint pink, her eyes showing resistance.

“Pei Yirou, does your mother know you do this?” Gu Yining smiled faintly. “Drinking at night—who exactly were you planning to call?”

Her words had barely landed when, in the next booth, two girls kissed. The fire almost leaped over.

Everyone except Ji Huaqing was calm. Ji Huaqing, as if her horizons had been widened, stared right at them, her cheeks inexplicably hot.

After the kiss, the two left as if no one else existed.

Ah. Going home.

That’s what Ji Huaqing thought. Gu Yining leaned in and whispered in her ear.

Ji Huaqing’s cheeks blazed. She shot her a deep look and turned away in embarrassment.

The two of them were so close, the others felt like light bulbs. Pei Yirou complained, “We didn’t come here to watch you two act lovey-dovey. Gu Yining, what’s this? You’re suddenly in a relationship?”

That last line made Cheng Qingtang, who had been silent, stir. Her gaze fell on Ji Huaqing, and she suddenly said, “I think you look like someone.”

Pei Yirou was also jolted. She stared at Ji Huaqing. “I think so too. When did you two meet?”

“The day before yesterday.” Gu Yining’s lovely face wore a smile, still languid, like a picture of a refined scoundrel. She added, “Less than seventy-two hours.”

Pei Yirou laughed, glancing at Cheng Qingtang. The latter said nothing, silent.

The atmosphere was inexplicably eerie. Fortunately, Song Mingyao arrived. Pei Yirou, as if seeing a savior, pulled her down to sit and showed her the photos on her phone.

“Look, I photographed a gorgeous girl.”

Song Mingyao adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses. From the corner of her eye, she caught the two across the way leaning into each other. Ji Huaqing was utterly out of place in this lively bar.

Fresh people took the booth next door—five or six young people who ordered a pile of drinks, laughing and talking, very lively.

A few young women, faces flushed, bearing the marks of youth, looked as if it were their first time here, wild with excitement.

Pei Yirou, who had been too shy to speak, now seemed to spot something new. She tidied her clothes and strode over.

Gu Yining didn’t move, signaling Ji Huaqing to watch the show. “Don’t space out.”

Soon, Pei Yirou had infiltrated the group, ordering the servers to bring drinks, fruit platters, snacks of every kind, and collecting everyone’s contact information one by one.

“What does she want?”

“Netting new fish.” Gu Yining laughed, picked up a bottle, took a small sip, and leaned close to her ear to say, “Don’t be shy. Your face has been red since you walked in.”

Ji Huaqing picked up her Wangzai milk. Gu Yining took her wrist and twisted off the cap for her. Ji Huaqing looked at her helplessly and said, “She seems to like you. She was looking at you with a strange look.”

“Is that so? Teacher Ji, I like you too. What does my gaze look like?” Gu Yining asked boldly, no concealment in her eyes.

The bar’s dim light was like a protective shell, letting Gu Yining ask so boldly.

In that instant, her obsession dragged Ji Huaqing back to the past. Back to that night, when she’d been drunk and told Ji Huaqing she liked her.

Ji Huaqing’s pupils contracted slightly. Gu Yining leaned close, her breath falling on the back of Ji Huaqing’s ear, like a bold, naughty kitten licking her ear.

“Your gaze…” Ji Huaqing thought seriously—it had only been a few days ago. She knew better than anyone.

Young, reckless, without the slightest pretense.

Not knowing how to hide.

Because of youth. Because she didn’t know restraint or subtlety.

Ji Huaqing paused, the words dying on her lips. Just then, laughter came from the next booth. She turned to look—Pei Yirou and a pretty girl were drinking a lover’s toast, arms linked.

She frowned. Was this how it was now?

She remembered what Gu Yining had just said.

Gu Yining had said: They’re going to the hotel.

Flustered, Ji Huaqing snatched up her milk and took a big gulp. Gu Yining’s snicker reached her ear: “Don’t dare to remember?”

The calm facade Ji Huaqing had labored to maintain finally cracked. She was about to break. She squeezed the Wangzai milk can, gripping it hard.

“She was burning, unguarded.”

Gu Yining sipped her drink and smiled. “Was I, too?”

“Yes. And no.” Ji Huaqing analyzed seriously, as if facing a classical text, walking students through it line by line, then analyzing the emotions.

She went on: “Miss Cheng looks at you with resentment. Did the two of you have a past?”

Gu Yining thought it over, then asked in turn, “Did you and I have a past?”

“No.”

“Then she and I don’t either.” Gu Yining blurted.

In truth, Ji Huaqing regretted saying it. Her heart skipped a beat, unbidden. Did those two years count as a past?

Ji Huaqing no longer knew how to define things. A nameless heat rose in her chest. She stood. “I’m going to the restroom.”

Gu Yining watched her go. Then Cheng Qingtang left too.

Gu Yining paid it no mind. She took out her phone; the moment her screen lit up, Song Mingyao sidled over. “Sister Gu, I think Miss Cheng has gone after your Teacher Ji.”

“What for?”

“To stake a claim.”

Gu Yining ignored her. Stake what? Even if Cheng Qingtang kissed her, Ji Huaqing wouldn’t get jealous. Staking a claim was pointless.

Song Mingyao guessed right. Cheng Qingtang blocked Ji Huaqing at the sinks.

Ji Huaqing was puzzled. “You’re looking for me?”

She was a teacher, well-mannered.

“Forgive my bluntness—have you slept with her?” Cheng Qingtang cut to the chase.

Looking at this imposing young woman before her, Ji Huaqing was, for a moment, perplexed. Were people this open now?

She was confused for thirty seconds, her eyes widening slightly. Just as she was about to deny it, Miss Cheng spoke: “If you’ve slept with her, you would have noticed the scar on her wrist. She did that to herself for her ex. You look very much like her. So—you’re just a substitute.”