Ji Huaqing walked over. She seemed to have grown a little taller. Ji Huaqing wrapped her arms around her from behind. “Gu Yining, don’t hold it in.”
“With my cigarettes confiscated, what am I supposed to do when I can’t hold it in?” Gu Yining laughed despite herself, looking down at the pale hands at her waist, the hot warmth at her back making her heart race.
She said, “Don’t hug me. I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself.”
“And what would you do if you couldn’t control yourself?” Ji Huaqing said softly, the words clear in her ear.
A gust of wind drilled in, restless and hot.
Joy bloomed in Gu Yining’s eyes: “I’m afraid I’ll kiss you without being able to stop.”
She looked into the distance, enduring the erosion of desire, standing straight, back upright, her face contorted in a way Ji Huaqing couldn’t see.
She held back with all her might, then turned and gently pushed Ji Huaqing away. “You know my family’s story. After my mother got out, my grandmother found her. At the time, my business was doing well. She wanted me to support her, pay her alimony.”
“She has two sons and two daughters. Why should I support her? She knew about my father’s affair and never said a word. My family fell apart, and she came to take our house for her youngest son’s family. Now she wants to leech off my mother. I cut off all contact between my mother and the Gu family.”
“I don’t understand—what is there to feel guilty about? She acted by accident, she paid the price, and she’s given the Gu family plenty of money over the years. Bought them houses and cars. I cut off her allowance later, and that’s when things quieted down. Guilty about what? About a man who cheated and drove you out of your own home? What guilt is there?”
Gu Yining’s irritation showed through; her face and even her neck flushed pink, revealing a certain charm.
Ji Huaqing listened quietly, a perfect listener. She needed to vent, to speak.
Just like back then, when Gu Yining had raged at her relatives at home while Ji Huaqing sat on the sofa, listening quietly.
“My father had a lot of private money stored with my grandmother. After he died, I had no money to live on, and she never gave it up. After I graduated, I sold the house for startup capital. She came to make a scene and took a sixth of the sale.”
Ji Huaqing nodded. “You don’t owe the Gu family.”
That one sentence made Gu Yining’s eyes red. The ice-cold woman of a few days ago was now like a child, crying and laughing at once.
No one understood her powerlessness. She wanted to confide, but her mother didn’t understand, and Ningning was too young. So she could only bottle it up alone.
The Ji Huaqing who used to listen was gone.
So she’d borne it alone.
This had happened many times, and every time, it left her feeling helpless.
The temperature climbed; Gu Yining was sweating from the sun. Ji Huaqing pulled her inside, turned on the air conditioning, and poured her a glass of water. She sat across from her and continued listening.
Gu Yining sat on the sofa, long legs crossed, her fingers lying at her side, knuckles distinct, her long, coolly pale neck—every inch an invitation.
Ji Huaqing could appreciate a woman’s beauty. Gu Yining’s body was nearly flawless, whether cold or fiery, each with its own flavor.
Skin pale, features fine, the long, slender eyes holding a pair of amber irises with an inherent pride.
She talked; Ji Huaqing listened. Her mood had calmed now—no longer visibly agitated.
Lunch was noodles. Beef noodles.
Ji Huaqing cooked. They ate simply.
When the time came, Ji Huaqing learned to hail a ride through the ride-hailing app. The car arrived at the building entrance.
Very convenient.
Ji Huaqing loved all of this. Her mood improved, losing the confusion and unease of the first days. Again looking out the window, she asked with a tourist’s curiosity, “Is that a shopping mall? What’s inside?”
Gu Yining answered seriously.
The car stopped. Ji Huaqing, following the route Song Mingyao had sent, led Gu Yining to the third floor.
She brought Gu Yining there within the appointed time.
Song Mingyao sent her a “big shot, please have tea” sticker. Ji Huaqing turned off her phone and smiled tenderly.
The doctor was a woman in her thirties, in a white coat, warmly greeting Gu Yining. Hot water was prepared; she indicated that others should leave.
Ji Huaqing followed them out. Gu Yining’s gaze followed her to the door.
“I heard you cut your wrists ten years ago—right?” Fang Bei looked at the medical record and asked directly, smiling amicably. “You have someone hidden in your heart. The person died, and you can’t move on. Is that right?”
Gu Yining frowned. She found her manner somewhat harsh, like a knife stabbed into her heart.
She didn’t like this way of speaking.
But Fang Bei looked straight into her eyes. “You still haven’t moved on, have you?”
Gu Yining remained silent, her face too pale, a plea in her eyes for the other to stop asking.
Fang Bei smiled, sincerely, twirling her pen. “It’s not that you can’t. It’s that you won’t. Is that right? Subconsciously, you refuse.”
Time forgets a person. Fifteen years is enough for a child to go from learning to walk all the way to starting high school. Time was long.
And she still clung to the past. Time couldn’t interfere. Only she could.
“Your silence is the clearest answer.” Fang Bei smiled gently. “Can you tell me about your past with her? I think you need a listener. Let me feel what you feel. Is that alright?”
Gu Yining listened, but didn’t speak for a long time. Fang Bei handed her the hot water: “You’re very tense. Relax. I’m in no hurry. My whole afternoon is yours.”
Gu Yining didn’t take the cup. She didn’t even look at her.
“Dear, don’t resist. Coming here means you want to untie the knot.”
“I think I’m fine. No knots.” Gu Yining finally spoke, her tone indifferent.
Fang Bei set the cup back down. “Alright, you’re fine. I’d like to hear your story, then. About your first meeting.”
First meeting?
Gu Yining frowned. Fang Bei continued, “Yes, the first time. Where did you meet her?”
“In an elevator. She was a new tenant. That day, I was going down, she was coming up. The elevator doors opened, and she was standing inside. She was very beautiful. It was a stunning sight.”
Fang Bei measured her words: “You liked her at first sight?”
Gu Yining fell silent again.
At first sight?
She couldn’t say. But she knew one thing: Ji Huaqing was someone she found irresistible.
After a long silence, she said, “No. I thought she was pretty. Later, I learned she was our new Chinese teacher.”
Fang Bei wore a look of understanding. “So it grew over time, right?”
Gu Yining didn’t deny it. Fang Bei said, “There are many kinds of love. Young, ignorant, the poetry of a maiden’s heart. She entered your life during your youngest years. Are you sure that was love?”
Gu Yining nodded, her face frighteningly white, her hands clasped tight.
“I also had someone I liked when I was young. Later, she left, and I let it go. Why can’t you let go?” Fang Bei continued. “I think you should think about why you can’t let go. Is it that you can’t find anyone better, or anyone prettier?”
When she finished, Gu Yining’s hands relaxed. She thought of that graduation season. She’d drunk too much and confessed boldly, without restraint.
Carefree, wild. She was young, seizing every chance. She liked Ji Huaqing. She wanted Ji Huaqing to know.
But her confession had frightened Ji Huaqing into fleeing.
Ji Huaqing left.
When she woke from the drunk the next day, it was already noon. As usual, she went to knock on the door across the hall. She knocked for a long time. No answer.
She waited by the door until night. Ji Huaqing never came back.
Later, Ji Huaqing’s mother called, asking if Ji Huaqing had boarded the plane.
The flight was at noon and should have arrived in the afternoon. But there was no news of the plane.
She thought Ji Huaqing hadn’t boarded, so she went to the airport, got classmates to search, too.
They found ground crew who confirmed Ji Huaqing had boarded. But the plane had vanished.
At that moment, she felt she was going to die. She had killed Ji Huaqing.
Ji Huaqing, a young homeroom teacher who had led a class to a 90% undergraduate admission rate. Her teaching career had been brilliant.
And she was so young.
Gu Yining opened her mouth, her voice low: “She died. She disappeared.”
“Because of you?” Fang Bei asked cautiously.
Gu Yining remained silent, drowning in grief, like a creature drenched by wind and rain, trembling in a corner.
Her resistance made Fang Bei stop.
The room fell silent. Gu Yining sank into her old terrors—panic, fear—shutting herself away, no longer answering any of Fang Bei’s questions.
Fang Bei again offered the cup. “Have a sip. It’ll help.”
She was a doctor; she knew how to approach a patient’s weakness. She coaxed Gu Yining into drinking some water.
She went on: “Everyone has their choices. You’re the one imprisoning yourself—aren’t you?”
Gu Yining felt dizzy. Fang Bei’s rambling voice filled her ears.
The smell of disinfectant filled her nose. She rubbed her forehead, too sleepy to open her eyes.
She fell asleep.
In the building with two apartments per floor, the elevator stopped on the ninth floor. Gu Yining withdrew her outstretched hand and looked up.
Inside the elevator stood a woman in her twenties, hair loose on her shoulders, skin white, temperament pure. She smiled gently at Gu Yining. “Hello, I’m the new tenant.”
Tenant? Gu Yining stepped into the elevator, expressionless, in no hurry to move, and frightened her: “Did you know someone on this floor just died?”
“I do know. That’s why the rent is so cheap.” The woman smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a small, crystal-clear earlobe. On her palm-sized face, light makeup made her look ethereal.
Gu Yining’s gaze didn’t move. She boldly examined her, then sneered: “You love a bargain. Aren’t you afraid a ghost will knock on your door?”
“Student, you go to Jing City No. 1 High School, don’t you?”
Gu Yining sniffed. “Mind your own business.”
This compound was close to No. 1 High, the building was a nice low-rise, and the rent wasn’t cheap. Most of the residents were No. 1 High students.
Gu Yining was no exception.
“Hello, I’m Ji Huaqing, the new homeroom teacher for Class 3, second year, Jing City No. 1 High School.” The other extended a friendly greeting, a pair of dark, clear eyes looking straight into Gu Yining’s heart.
Gu Yining glanced at her, leaned closer, the tip of her nose catching a clean, cool fragrance—so faint, you could only smell it up close.
She scared her homeroom teacher: “The dead guy was my dad. I’m not afraid of his ghost coming back. Are you?”
Ji Huaqing’s pupils contracted. She instinctively stepped back. Gu Yining smiled smugly: “Want to come sleep at my place tonight? I won’t charge you rent.”
