Chapter 2: Reunion

After stepping out of the police station, rows of SWAT vehicles and ambulances were parked outside, their lights bright as day.

The dazzle of the streetlights stung her eyes, making everything feel like a dream, hazy and indistinct, blurring night and day.

Ji Huaqing stopped, staring at the streetlamp by the road, unable to move for a long time. She looked at this unfamiliar world and felt nothing but panic, unease, and loneliness.

Gu Yining stopped ahead and followed her gaze. Her tone was playfully teasing: “You don’t recognize a streetlamp now, Teacher Ji?”

“The light on this streetlamp—it’s brighter,” Ji Huaqing said, her mind completely blank. The streetlamp was like a mirror, reflecting straight into her heart.

Fifteen years had passed in the blink of an eye, making her feel as though she’d landed on an alien world, with no family left to find.

Gu Yining turned and walked back two steps, reaching out to pull the old suitcase toward her. The weathered suitcase still looked quite new, but its style was already outdated.

“Teacher Ji, so you get scared too.” Gu Yining’s eyes softened as her lips curved into a faint, sincere-looking smile.

Ji Huaqing studied her former student. She stood a clean one hundred seventy centimeters tall, and in her high heels, she inclined her head slightly to speak to Ji Huaqing.

Embarrassed, Ji Huaqing lowered her head. The two of them crossed the plaza in front of the police station, one behind the other, without another word.

Past the barricades, a Bentley was parked at the roadside, its taillights flashing. Gu Yining waved, and the car let out a low hum. Ji Huaqing looked at the car, then at Gu Yining.

Her gaze swept from the top of Gu Yining’s head down to her ankles. Her long legs, set off by the red dress, were straight and fair. Under the lights, her calm, unruffled eyes revealed nothing.

Gu Yining seemed to be doing quite well for herself—no longer the orphan girl without parents.

The car made a U-turn and pulled up directly in front of them. The window rolled down to reveal a young woman who looked barely in her twenties.

The young woman got out, politely taking the luggage. She paused for a step, as if she hadn’t seen such an old-fashioned suitcase in a long time.

“Sister Gu, where to?”

Gu Yining looked at Ji Huaqing. “Teacher, do you want to go home? Though… there’s no one left in your home.”

“Do you know where my home is?” Ji Huaqing froze. She suddenly remembered—this was Hang City, not Jing City.

Gu Yining was a born-and-bred Jing City local. What was she doing in Hang City? In her earlier panic, she hadn’t thought it through. Gu Yining should have been in Jing City.

The Gu Yining before her was ice-cold, a world apart from the lively, active girl in her memories.

Gu Yining had never been a proper lady. She loved basketball and, in her second year of high school, used to slip off to internet cafés with a bunch of boys. Climbing walls was nothing to her. But the person standing before her now, beneath her meticulously done makeup, wore a frigid expression, and her aloof aura made her difficult to approach.

Ji Huaqing lowered her head, at a loss before this woman. Or perhaps—she no longer recognized her student.

Still, she was the first to be pulled out of that station, and she was grateful that in this city, someone still knew her.

Gu Yining looked at her seriously, her red lips parting as if to speak, then stopping. In the end, all she said was: “You took me to your home once. At New Year’s in ’09, we spent the night in the same bed.”

With that, Gu Yining opened the car door and graciously invited her in.

The Little Sun had become an Unattainable Flower. Ji Huaqing’s heart was a jumble of emotions. She slowly remembered: with no parents to care for her, Ji Huaqing had brought Gu Yining home that year to spend the New Year together.

Ji Huaqing stiffly climbed into the car. The door closed, and the temperature inside was very low; as soon as she entered, she felt a cold chill seep over her.

The windows went up, and the cramped space was stifling. Ji Huaqing turned to look outside. Whenever she had a moment of leisure, her mind went back to “yesterday.”

Drunk Gu Yining had hugged her, her cheeks rosy, her eyes like brilliant stars in the night sky.

“Teacher Ji, I’ve graduated now. Liking you won’t interfere with my studies anymore.”

“Teacher Ji, give me a chance. I want to stand shoulder to shoulder with you.”

“Teacher Ji, you are the most beautiful woman in my heart. I… like you.”

The drunkard’s words slipped into her ears like a feather brushing against her eardrum. She felt unsettled and stole a glance at Gu Yining from the corner of her eye.

Gu Yining was holding her cellphone. The glow of the screen made her skin look very pale. Her fingertips tapped across the display—long, fair, and elegant.

Ji Huaqing finally found a topic: “What is this?”

Gu Yining was lost for a moment, then turned and met Ji Huaqing’s gaze. Her dim eyes suddenly brightened. She pressed her lips together and smiled. “A cellphone.”

Ji Huaqing lowered her head, not daring to look into her eyes.

“Teacher Ji, you need to replace your phone.” Gu Yining smiled, dignified and elegant, and lowered her head to wipe her damp fingers.

Ji Huaqing didn’t notice her movements. She stared stiffly at the dark sky outside. “Are there still stores open?”

“It’s almost two in the morning. They should all be closed, but that’s fine. We can buy one tomorrow.” Gu Yining lowered her eyes and asked, “Teacher Ji, did you leave Jing City in such a hurry because I scared you when I drank too much that year?”

Ji Huaqing kept her head down. Her gaze accidentally landed on Gu Yining’s wrist—there was a scar on the fair skin. Quickly, Gu Yining turned her wrist over, showing her the back of her hand instead.

“That year…” Ji Huaqing paused.

Gu Yining waited quietly, leaning against the seat. In the dim car light, her long, wavy hair lay lazily on her shoulders. Her eyes carried a trace of intoxication, and she smiled faintly, a seductive, restless charm blooming across her cold features.

A ripple passed through Ji Huaqing’s dull eyes. She said, “It had nothing to do with you. My mother missed me and asked me to come home.”

Gu Yining’s bright eyes dimmed. She gave an awkward smile, then continued scrolling through her phone.

Her skin was as white as if it had been bathed in milk. In the cramped interior of the car, her languid, frosty beauty was like a painting.

Ji Huaqing lowered her head. Gu Yining turned off her screen and looked at her deeply. “Teacher, on that plane, only three hours passed for you?”

“Everything on the flight was normal,” Ji Huaqing sighed.

“But fifteen years passed for us.” Gu Yining laughed softly. Fifteen years of barely living—countless families had been shattered.

That year, the news had overshadowed the national college entrance exam. Even the highly anticipated exam had suddenly seemed unimportant.

The car stopped. The girl driver turned around and smiled at the two of them. “We’re here.”

Then she looked at Ji Huaqing and said warmly, “Teacher Ji, I’m also a student from Jing City No. 1 High School. My name is Song Mingyao, class of 2015. You’re even prettier than in your photos. Time really hasn’t left a trace on your face.”

Gu Yining laughed and tapped her head. “So many words. Go home. Pick me up tomorrow morning.”

“Sure thing—after all, you don’t have a driver’s license. Oh, right. Teacher Ji, do you have one?”

Did Ji Huaqing have a driver’s license?

Yes, she did.

Back in the year of the college entrance exam, Ji Huaqing had driven to and from work, always bringing Gu Yining along. Back then, Gu Yining sat in her passenger seat every single day.

Gu Yining had been possessive, refusing to let anyone else sit in that passenger seat—not even fellow teachers.

The front passenger seat of Ji Huaqing’s car had become the exclusive throne of an eighteen-year-old girl.

“She does,” Gu Yining said.

“As long as you have one. Our Sister Gu can’t drive for the rest of her life—she hit a tree driving drunk a few years back and her license was revoked. Teacher Ji, you should have taught her from an early age: if you drink, don’t drive.”

“Shut up.” Gu Yining pushed the car door open, and her flowing red dress slid over the seat, covering her long, white legs.

Ji Huaqing’s whole body was tense. Looking at the rundown neighborhood, the Bentley seemed utterly out of place beside it—especially with Gu Yining in her bright, glossy attire, standing before the rusty iron door, lending the scene a kind of fragile, broken beauty.

Looking at the familiar yet dilapidated neighborhood, Ji Huaqing felt no joy at coming home. She remembered the girl wailing in the hall, and a loneliness she couldn’t shake settled into her heart.

Fifteen years had passed. She looked at the entrance to the building, pitch-black inside. The closer she got to home, the more her heart tightened.

Gu Yining looked at her, seeming to want to speak but stopping. As Ji Huaqing started up the stairs, she finally said, “Your parents passed away five years ago.”

Ji Huaqing froze. She sucked in a deep breath, her tongue pressed hard against her teeth, her whole body trembling violently. Gu Yining walked toward her, her tone gentle: “Let me take you home first.”

Gu Yining’s tone was like that of someone comforting a child—both familiar and foreign to Ji Huaqing.

“Why are you living here? What about my brother?” Ji Huaqing was surprised. This was her house, and yet Gu Yining seemed more familiar with it than she did.

Gu Yining led the way. “Whenever I come to Hang City, I stay here. As for your brother… we haven’t been in contact. I’ll try to reach him.”

“You live here?” Ji Huaqing was stunned. At those words, her taut emotions finally loosened a little.

Gu Yining didn’t answer. She took the stairs first.

Ji Huaqing quickly followed.

Ji Huaqing’s home was on the second floor. Gu Yining took a key from her bag, opened the door, and switched on the light. Then she stood at the threshold, welcoming Ji Huaqing like a hostess receiving a guest: “Come in. It’s been kept very clean.”

This was Ji Huaqing’s home, but in Gu Yining’s eyes, she had become the guest.

Ji Huaqing felt an indescribable feeling—strange, unfamiliar, yet familiar. She stood at the door, looking at the familiar doormat. It seemed to have some years on it now. But she remembered: she had bought that doormat.

Looking at the familiar furnishings, her heart churned violently. She silently walked inside.

Gu Yining carried the suitcase in after her and quietly closed the door.

Ji Huaqing stood in the room. The floor was spotless, cleaned to a shine. Two pairs of slippers sat in the entryway—an indication that two people lived here.

Besides Gu Yining, someone else lived here?

Was Gu Yining married?

At thirty-three, she should be married by now.

Gu Yining placed the other pair of slippers at her feet. “Change into these, more comfortable. You can still use your old room.”

The furnishings hadn’t changed, exactly the same as fifteen years ago. The old television and coffee table were wiped clean.

Ji Huaqing walked to her room and pushed the door open. It was exactly as she remembered it. She recalled that when Gu Yining had stayed over, the two of them had slept in that very bed.

The bedding hadn’t changed, except there was now a bouquet of red roses on the nightstand.

Ji Huaqing loved red roses.

Gu Yining set down her suitcase and glanced at the bed. “I remember the first time I came here, I slept in this bed too.”

Ji Huaqing wished she could crawl into a hole. But thinking back to those nights, her heart suddenly leapt with a strange joy.

She walked out of the room, and Gu Yining handed her a glass of lemon water.

“Thanks.” They were both awkward. It was two or three in the morning; every other resident in the building had turned off their lights and gone to sleep. The world was utterly silent, leaving only the two of them awake, facing each other in discomfort.

Suddenly, Gu Yining’s cellphone rang.

The phone was on the coffee table. On the large screen, the two characters “Daughter” were highly conspicuous.

In an instant, Ji Huaqing was stunned. Gu Yining had a daughter?

Gu Yining was used to it. A faint, barely perceptible weariness settled between her brows as her fingertip slid across the screen, answering the call. The unapproachable face instantly softened.

Her micro-expressions fell into Ji Huaqing’s eyes. After a brief moment of shock, a crying voice came through the receiver: “Mommy, I had a nightmare.”

Mommy? Whoever was calling her “Mommy”—she really had married and had a child.

The words of that “yesterday’s” drunk floated through Ji Huaqing’s mind.

“Teacher Ji, give me a chance. I want to stand shoulder to shoulder with you.”