Chapter 3: Daughter

The sudden call was like a thunderbolt tearing across the silent, black sky.

Gu Yining took her cellphone out to the balcony to answer, turning her back as if guarding a secret. Ji Huaqing’s gaze followed her. Before boarding that plane, she’d thought about ending this ambiguous, entangled connection once and for all. But looking at the accomplished woman before her now, she felt she had become the one left behind—like Gu Yining of the past.

Two brief minutes later, Gu Yining returned, phone in hand. “What would Teacher like to eat? We have plenty of choices—self-heating hotpot, instant noodles, self-heating rice… pick one. I’ll cook you some instant noodles.”

The girl who once couldn’t be bothered with anything had become a gentle woman. Ji Huaqing felt dazed. She nodded absently. “Okay.”

Gu Yining handed her a tablet, her eyes resting deeply on her: “Just touch the screen to use it. You can learn about today’s world first. Give me ten minutes.”

Ji Huaqing unconsciously straightened her back. The soft light from the ceiling lamp spilled onto Gu Yining.

In that moment, the light illuminated her face. She stood tall and graceful, her red dress vivid and bright, the hem slightly lifted by the wind from the balcony.

Her hands were pale, slim, and beautiful.

Gu Yining smiled, and the light that flowed between her brows made one’s heart sway.

Ji Huaqing finally took the tablet. Her gaze swept across her wrist, but she didn’t look down. In front of Gu Yining, she always held her head high. Now, she looked at her seriously.

The girl had changed—hair as dark as night, lips of vermilion red. Stunning, yet not flashy.

The boundary of time was like a lock, confining Ji Huaqing’s heart and draping a bright, hazy mist over Gu Yining.

Their experience was like a tale from ancient fantasy, and Gu Yining had transformed from the girl next door into an enchantress who could bewitch the mind.

Ji Huaqing held her breath. She chose to step through the mist and look at her. “You have a daughter?”

“Yes. I’ve raised her since she was born.” Gu Yining smiled, tenderness showing on her face. “She’s adorable. Her surname is Ji—the Ji of Ji Huaqing.”

That was Ji Huaming’s daughter. In other words, Ji Huaqing’s niece.

But Gu Yining didn’t say that. She turned and walked off, and a subtle, unconscious flicker of wistfulness passed through Ji Huaqing’s eyes.

Ji Huaqing looked at the mirror-like device and set it aside. Her heart was in a fluster, her mind wandering.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she was still young—no traces of the fifteen years. She was still Ji Huaqing.

Hearing the sound of the stove being lit in the kitchen, the knot in Ji Huaqing’s chest slowly loosened.

The night before last, Gu Yining had still hugged her like a child. They’d been so close that she could see Gu Yining’s long, curling lashes—each strand as rebellious as its owner, fluttering like small fans.

Her lashes trembled lightly, concealing the joy in her eyes, yet failing to hide her feelings.

Gu Yining had pressed against her, skin touching skin, like hot water washing over her, sending shivers through her body.

Gu Yining had reached out with her long, jade-like fingers. Emboldened by the alcohol, her eyes like a pool of spring water, she pressed a kiss to the corner of Ji Huaqing’s mouth while Ji Huaqing was still frozen in shock.

She had touched the girl’s skin—delicate, smooth, like the finest white porcelain, unreal in its beauty.

Recovering from her shock, she had immediately pushed Gu Yining away…

“Teacher Ji.”

Gu Yining’s voice dragged Ji Huaqing out of her reverie. Ji Huaqing was still shaken, a faint, clean cold fragrance drifting at the tip of her nose.

As Gu Yining drew closer, Ji Huaqing smelled the familiar perfume. Her throat moved. “What perfume are you wearing?”

“The same one Teacher Ji used to wear.” Gu Yining smiled softly, her gaze resting on Ji Huaqing’s face, which was turning slightly red. “What was Teacher thinking about to blush like that?”

Her teasing made the heat rise up Ji Huaqing’s cheeks. She reached up to touch them and felt the warmth. “Oh, so hot.”

Gu Yining’s words carried a lazy, nasal quality—the kind of flirtatious laugh that stirs the imagination.

Ji Huaqing took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure. She tried to sound conversational. “You left your daughter at home alone?”

“There’s a nanny. But she lost her parents at a young age, so she’s sensitive.” Gu Yining sighed softly. “It wasn’t until I raised a child myself that I realized how patient Teacher was with me back then.”

Lost her parents at a young age?

Ji Huaqing was startled by her words. Gu Yining stood up and headed to the kitchen, not giving her a chance to ask more.

The instant noodles arrived. Gu Yining set them on the coffee table. “Eat. You must be hungry.”

Looking at the noodles in the bowl, Ji Huaqing swallowed. The aroma was tempting—she really was hungry.

A whole day and night of near-starvation had left her exhausted.

Gu Yining picked up the tablet. The mirror-like screen reflected her fair face, with a faint smile curving her lips.

Ji Huaqing wolfed down the noodles. Her gaze swept across Gu Yining, who was tapping away at the tablet, her long, slender fingers moving across the screen before she tucked them away.

“I’ll wash the dishes.” Gu Yining said cheerfully, standing up and taking the bowl and chopsticks.

She was so diligent that Ji Huaqing felt lazy by comparison.

Ji Huaqing followed her into the kitchen. Gu Yining had already washed the dishes and was bending over to tidy the trash can.

Her long dress was utterly out of place in the kitchen, especially in this old building where everything was outdated and dark. The contrast with her bright attire was striking.

“Why do you live here?” Ji Huaqing stared at her.

Even if she’d been declared dead and her parents had passed, this house shouldn’t have ended up in Gu Yining’s name. And she was married—why would she live here?

Gu Yining stood at the sink washing her hands, letting the water run over the backs of them. She stared at her own hands. “I come here on business—I’m going back to Jing City in a few days. I just happened to get the call tonight. The house is under my name now. If you want it, I can return it to you.”

“How did it end up under your name?”

“I bought it from your brother.”

Gu Yining turned around, leaning against the sink, languid and alluring. “Your brother went inside. As for what for, I didn’t ask.”

Went inside? Ji Huaqing hesitated. Gu Yining stepped in front of her, staring at that beautiful, captivating face from close range.

Gu Yining looked at her. She was still twenty-eight, with excellent skin, like a fresh graduate, as smooth as a peeled egg, glowing with health.

Ji Huaqing was the famously beautiful teacher of Jing City No. 1 High School. Her skin was fair, and when she’d first transferred in, plenty of boys had loved her classes.

The first time Gu Yining had ever seen Ji Huaqing was in the elevator—the year her father died. The neighbors across the way had been so frightened they’d moved out overnight.

The new neighbor arrived soon after.

On her first day, she’d been standing in the elevator with her suitcase, her every expression restrained and refined.

Gu Yining’s father had died, her mother sent to prison. Her grandmother had demanded she return to the countryside and hand the house over to her second uncle.

She’d refused. She’d held a knife and forced her relatives from the countryside to get out of her house. This house was bought by her parents—why should she give it to her second uncle? Clutching the knife, she’d sworn to defend her home to the death. The police had been called, and during the mediation, Ji Huaqing had stood among the onlookers. Unlike the others, she didn’t gawk. She walked straight toward Gu Yining.

The woman was in her late twenties, impossibly beautiful. In her eyes, there was no contempt from the rural relatives, no helpless urgency from the police. She simply looked at Gu Yining, her eyes holding only compassion.

“I live across the hall. I’m your new neighbor. My name is Ji Huaqing. They say a close neighbor is better than a distant relative. I can help you.”

Gu Yining stood there, gazing at Ji Huaqing, who seemed like a goddess. From that moment on, the name “Ji Huaqing” was carved into her bones.

Ji Huaqing was like an enigma—beautiful, gentle, clear-eyed—and she had forcibly squeezed her way into Gu Yining’s dark life.

Looking at this slightly dangerous Gu Yining, Ji Huaqing smiled. “Teacher Ji, what are you afraid of? This is your home—the home where you grew up.”

“You… you’re married.”

“Who did I marry?”

“You have a daughter.”

“Yes, I have a daughter. Someone calls me ‘Mom.'” Gu Yining’s eyes shimmered with a shallow smile. The other woman’s hot breath fell against her face, puff after puff. She said, “Just because someone calls me ‘Mom,’ does that prove I’m married?”