Chapter 22: The Key Part 3

“Yes. You guessed it. So, do I have a chance?” Xiang Yunlai lifted her chin proudly. “You’re very beautiful. You’ve been here many times. I remember you…”

“Stop.” Gu Yining cut off the fearless girl. If she let her keep talking, her whole past would come spilling out.

Looking at her guilty conscience, Ji Huaqing couldn’t help but smile. Under the night sky, Ji Huaqing’s emotions were richer than by day.

Ji Huaqing asked, “How many times have you come? With whom?”

“Different friends every time.”

“How did it end?”

“I don’t know. She usually left after midnight.”

Xiang Yunlai wasn’t lying; everything she said was true. She knew when Gu Yining arrived, not when she left, because Xiang Yunlai was there to play, not to linger.

“Thank you for telling me.” Ji Huaqing thanked her politely, then said, “Then don’t pine for her anymore. She’s quite fickle too.”

Gu Yining: “…” When was I ever fickle?

Ji Huaqing warned the girl again: “You’ve also seen it—she changes companions every time she comes. Do you think someone like that is reliable?”

“Not reliable. But she’s gorgeous, sis.” Xiang Yunlai’s attitude had improved a lot; she showed a gentle side, answering with a smile. “Gorgeous is enough.”

Ji Huaqing felt like she was seeing a new world. It was no different from those girls at the bar asking her to the hotel.

Pei Yirou and she would get along better.

Ji Huaqing liked the girl’s honesty. She tried to counsel her: “I still think devotion is best.”

“Sis, devotion is right too. When you truly fall in love, you become devoted—those aren’t contradictory.”

Xiang Yunlai laughed bewitchingly, riding the night wind, her gaze at Gu Yining blazing. “Sis, the sister beside you looks very ascetic. You know, conquering a woman like that is far more satisfying.”

Gu Yining, as if having heard it all before, looked up at the night sky, unwilling to step into their conversation.

Ji Huaqing hesitated, seriously pondering Xiang Yunlai’s words. She felt that Xiang Yunlai had taken a liking to Gu Yining’s body.

Unrelated to love or devotion.

Looking at her from the outside, Gu Yining truly was alluring—especially now, standing in the crowd, her long hair flowing, her languid beauty impossible to look away from.

Ji Huaqing, like a curious child, asked several more questions—all about same-sex matters.

Xiang Yunlai explained earnestly: “Ten Li of Jianghuai is a place where queer people get together—you didn’t know?”

“Isn’t it an influencer bar?” Ji Huaqing was startled, finding it hard to believe. No wonder so many women inside had left in pairs.

Xiang Yunlai narrowed her eyes mysteriously. “This is a place with a secret.”

A sudden enlightenment washed over Ji Huaqing, like discovering a peach orchard deep beyond a stream. She took a deep breath and gained a deeper understanding of Gu Yining.

“Discussing business at Ten Li of Jianghuai—so you lied after all.”

Gu Yining said helplessly, “I told you I was coming to Ten Li of Jianghuai. I didn’t lie.”

“You didn’t tell me what kind of place it was.” Ji Huaqing’s face reddened. She accused, “You deceived me.”

Gu Yining faced the night wind, a shallow smile at the corner of her lips, and made no explanation.

Xiang Yunlai looked at her, infatuation in her eyes.

Standing between the two, Ji Huaqing felt like she was in the way. So she reached out and pulled Gu Yining away.

Xiang Yunlai protested, “Sis! I wasn’t finished talking!”

Ji Huaqing, being very rude, dragged her Gu student toward the end of the main street.

“So now you’re taking advantage of the fact that I don’t understand the rules here.”

“Oh? You’re adapting fast—you’ve already learned to bring your household registration booklet to find me and book a hotel.”

Ji Huaqing let go, her face red to her ears, hardly daring to face Gu Yining.

They walked in silence to the end of the main street. A row of taxis sat at the exit, waiting for tourists.

Ji Huaqing was waiting for Song Mingyao, glancing down the road. A taxi approached and rolled down its window. “Teacher! Did you catch your student?”

Gu Yining’s eyelid twitched. She looked over. Ji Huaqing bent down to greet the driver. “Found her. Are you free?”

“Yes. Heading back?” The driver waved at the two of them, calling warmly, “Get in, quick. It’s late.”

It was nearly one in the morning.

Ji Huaqing opened the door, let Gu Yining in first, then climbed in herself.

As soon as they sat down, the driver started chattering: “Teacher, do you teach at a university? Your student looks like she’s in her twenties.”

Gu Yining was fair-skinned, with long hair; at a glance, she looked like a college student out for fun. Ji Huaqing didn’t know how to answer. Gu Yining spoke up first: “I’m her tutoring student. She teaches me classical Chinese.”

“I see. But running to a bar at this hour—you’ll worry people. Don’t do it again. Your teacher cares about you—she came out in the middle of the night to find you. Her heart’s in the right place. Don’t hold it against her.”

The driver earnestly lectured Gu Yining, afraid she’d resent her teacher for spoiling her fun.

Gu Yining agreed to everything.

“You young people don’t know your limits. Go to bed early, take care of your health. When you’re old, you’ll see the benefit. When I was your age, I slept early and rose early. Now I drive all night and envy you folks who can sleep early.”

“And running out at midnight—it worries the people who care about you. Think about it: if something happened to the one who came looking for you at night, how would you ever forgive yourself?”

The driver chattered the whole way. Gu Yining, far from being annoyed, made a deep self-examination and promised she wouldn’t do it again. Her attitude was excellent, giving full emotional value, a pleasure to hear.

When they got out, a Bentley was parked at the compound gate. Song Mingyao leaned against the car, staring up at the sky.

The two walked over. Song Mingyao greeted them: “When I got back to Ten Li of Jianghuai, you were already gone. I thought I’d wait for you here at the compound.”

The streetlights were bright, illuminating Song Mingyao’s figure clearly—including the kiss mark on her neck.

Ji Huaqing saw it at once, but said nothing, unsure whether Gu Yining had noticed. Who had Song Mingyao gone to see?

Gu Yining walked up to her, her long hand catching Song Mingyao’s chin, leaning in to examine the mark on her neck. “Where did you take her?”

The gesture was intimate, but neither participant thought so. Only Ji Huaqing found it seductive.

Song Mingyao pushed up her glasses, stepped back, and touched her neck. “The hotel.”

Ji Huaqing’s heart jumped. Where had the mark come from?

“You… you two actually went and… went…”

Ji Huaqing stammered, the word “went” stuck in her throat.

Gu Yining was far more composed, having seen it all before. She only left one line: “Go back. Be careful.”

The hotel Song Mingyao stayed at was nearby—very close—so getting back now was easy.

“Okay, Sister Gu. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.” Without any fuss, Song Mingyao turned and left.

The car drove off. Ji Huaqing still hadn’t recovered. “They are…”

“You’re both consenting adults in an adult world. No coercion. No need to be so tense. Pei Yirou was drunk; Song Mingyao was sober. Which one are you worried about?” Gu Yining asked with a meaningful air.

Her words were like a gust of wind across Ji Huaqing’s heart. Ji Huaqing fell silent, trying to digest what she’d said.

Adults…

The compound was pitch dark; the streetlights looked more like ghost lights. Gu Yining turned on her phone’s flashlight, quietly illuminating the path.

The deeper they went, the dimmer it grew. Gu Yining walked slowly, wondering: had Ji Huaqing walked this road alone just now?

It was so dark. Wasn’t she afraid?

Halfway along, she slowed and walked beside Ji Huaqing, taking the chance to hold her hand. “Were you scared?”

“No.” Ji Huaqing shook her head.

At two or three in the morning, the compound was dark and empty; even the lamps were broken. A young person would be afraid—but Ji Huaqing said she wasn’t. Gu Yining didn’t believe it.

She smiled. She’d seen many people in the workplace, fresh and jittery, their sharp edges slowly worn away.

After Ji Huaqing took over the homeroom, not only were her edges not worn down, she fought harder and harder, never accepting defeat.

There was an unyielding stubbornness in her.

They entered the stairwell. The motion-sensor light came on. Gu Yining released her hand, turned to dig her keys out of her bag. She searched—nothing. Then she looked at Ji Huaqing. “Did you bring the key?”

“The key?” Ji Huaqing froze. “You didn’t bring it?”

She remembered that when she’d left the house, she’d only brought her phone and the household registration booklet. Gu Yining had said paying by phone was convenient, so she hadn’t taken her wallet.

They stared at the phone in her hand. And Gu Yining had the booklet.

“Forget it. Let’s go to the hotel.” Gu Yining exhaled. There was only one key, and she always carried it coming and going.

Tonight, since Ji Huaqing was home, she’d left the key behind. It hadn’t occurred to her that Ji Huaqing would also go to Ten Li of Jianghuai.

Ji Huaqing was mortified. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? You were planning on a hotel anyway.” Gu Yining curled her lips in a smile. “Come on. We’ll go to Song Mingyao’s hotel, and call a locksmith tomorrow.”

They’d finally made it home, and now they had to go to a hotel. Gu Yining felt her temper had calmed a lot. With anyone else, she’d have raged.

They strolled to the biggest hotel nearby. Song Mingyao was still sitting on the lobby sofa.

Ji Huaqing was slow to catch on. Gu Yining laughed. “Pei Yirou didn’t have her ID, so she gave her room to Pei Yirou. She’s sleeping in the lobby tonight.”

With that, she went straight to the front desk and, using Ji Huaqing’s household registration booklet, booked two rooms.

Then she walked to Song Mingyao and handed her one of the room key cards. “Go sleep indoors.”

In her hand, she still had another key card. The presidential suite.

Overjoyed, Song Mingyao pushed at her glasses with false humility. “Thanks, Sister Gu. Oh, right—why did you two come to a hotel?”

They’d gone home, but then came to a hotel. Looking for thrills?

Was home not exciting enough?

A hundred reasons crossed Song Mingyao’s mind, but the most legitimate one—no key, couldn’t get in—never occurred to her.

Gu Yining didn’t explain. Holding the room key card, she gave her a deep look. “Refined scoundrel.”

Song Mingyao: “?”

Who has a home but comes to a hotel—that’s the refined scoundrel.

Gu Yining left. Ji Huaqing explained, “I left the key in the house.”

“You don’t have an ID card—how did you book a room?” Song Mingyao’s thoughts thundered.

“I brought the household registration booklet when I went out.”

“Why would you bring that when you went out?”

“Teacher Ji, the elevator’s here.” Gu Yining stood by the elevator, urging.

Ji Huaqing didn’t answer. She turned and hurried onto the elevator.

The elevator went straight to the floor. With the key card, she opened the door—a sudden flood of light.

Gu Yining was too tired to talk. She sat on the sofa. Ji Huaqing followed her in, looked up at the glass in the bathroom, and wondered about it.

The bathroom glass was transparent too.

Ji Huaqing was in a bind. Were all bathrooms like this now?

As she fretted over the bathroom, Gu Yining got up, pulled her down to sit. “You said we’d kiss at home.”

Ji Huaqing was pulled down onto the sofa. It was very soft, and she sank into it, while Gu Yining—her student—stared at her again with hungry eyes.

For an instant, Ji Huaqing felt a fire inside her, spreading recklessly.

Gu Yining lowered her head, her thin lips pressed tight. Her hands were very cold, carrying a hint of chill; the heat in her eyes clashed with the coldness of her touch.