Chapter 4: Pajamas

Ji Huaqing’s gaze deepened. She moistened her dry lips. The girl across from her tilted her head, the corner of her mouth lifting into an enticing smile. “She isn’t my biological child.”

Not her biological child.

A sudden understanding washed through Ji Huaqing, like grasping at a final lifeline. She felt uneasy, disoriented; her gaze chased Gu Yining’s, clear yet hazy.

“Not yours?”

Gu Yining smiled, breathing lightly, her upper body leaning forward a little. Ji Huaqing stopped breathing. The thrill from a few days ago suddenly surged into her chest. Gu Yining repeated, “She’s not mine.”

Ji Huaqing forcibly suppressed the excitement in her chest, the tips of her ears turning slightly pink. “Then… whose is she?”

“She’s not mine, and she’s not yours either.” Gu Yining smiled teasingly. “Not mine. Really, truly not mine.”

Suddenly, a desolation flooded her eyes—as if she were standing in an endless desert, with no hope in sight.

Ji Huaqing’s heart clenched at that barren look.

In a fleeting haze, Gu Yining laughed lightly, and the sorrow from a moment ago vanished. She said, “There were one hundred and thirty-five people on that plane. Not a single survivor. It was like a dream. You came back, and they came back too. That should be something to be happy about.”

Ji Huaqing didn’t understand what she meant. She felt those words were more mournful than any ancient poem in a book.

Three hours on a plane, and when she got off, she’d lost her parents. She was alone and helpless in this city. If Gu Yining hadn’t happened to be here on business, she’d probably still be in that hall, breaking down just like that girl.

She looked deeply at Gu Yining. Gu Yining was like a whirlpool, dragging her in with her, down to destruction.

She’d thought about leaving her. But in one day, Gu Yining had become her lifeline. What a colossal irony.

The person standing before her wasn’t the eighteen-year-old girl from the day before, but a grown woman with far more life experience than she had.

Ji Huaqing felt that the word “Teacher” coming from Gu Yining’s mouth was a mockery beyond measure.

Seeing Ji Huaqing’s dazed expression, Gu Yining smiled faintly. “Teacher, what are you thinking?”

Gu Yining was steady, cold, and beautiful—like the most qualified person to rely on. Yet her presence made Ji Huaqing desperate to flee.

The girl who had once depended on her had grown up in the blink of an eye. Now she was counting on this girl to pull her out of the abyss.

The shame in Ji Huaqing’s heart made it impossible to speak.

A subtle smile crossed Gu Yining’s eyes. She raised her chin proudly, revealing a patch of snow-white skin at her long neck. “You’re thinking about how you’re going to climb out of hell.”

She was like a philosopher, speaking in epigrams.

Ji Huaqing was forced to step back twice. Gu Yining continued to watch her quietly, as if she wanted to dissect her, to study her at leisure.

Her eyes no longer held admiration, no longer the reverence of a student for her teacher. They held exploration—like probing something unknown.

More like a fierce wolf eyeing the meat it had coveted for a long time, deciding how to seize it, how to get it into its mouth.

There was no denying that Ji Huaqing’s presence had deflated. She’d never been an imposing person. But this time, Gu Yining’s presence was overwhelming, cold, distant—and above all, domineering.

“Teacher, why aren’t you talking anymore?” Gu Yining prompted. Her long, narrow eyes swept lazily over her; the red dress made her strikingly radiant. She asked unhurriedly, “Teacher, do you regret it? Refusing me that night.”

The already tense atmosphere rippled with an ambiguous, intimate tint. The relationship between them had shifted—from teacher and student to pursuer and pursued.

That one sentence threw Ji Huaqing into disarray. She felt like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered under Gu Yining’s unblinking stare.

Gu Yining was noble, languid, like thorns covered in sharp barbs. “Teacher, you’re afraid. Like when I lost my parents and had no one—but back then, I had the impulse to fight them to the death. You don’t. You’re timid. You’re a coward.”

Her words mercilessly shoved Ji Huaqing into the abyss. She watched as the woman who had been calm just a moment ago knitted her brows, sinking into deep thought.

Gu Yining’s throat tightened. She held back the impulse to step forward. Boldly, she raised her hand, lifting Teacher Ji’s chin to meet her dark, deep eyes. “Teacher Ji, look at me.”

She was too close. The unforgettable night rushed back into Ji Huaqing’s mind—shame, thrill, heartache, pleasure—all flooding into her chest at once.

The girl’s skin was flawless white porcelain, like a piece of jade, untainted by dust.

Ji Huaqing took a deep breath and cleared her throat. The other woman looked at her with an amused half-smile, waiting lazily for her answer.

In that moment, the girl who had once deferred to her had usurped her former position as the one in control.

Gu Yining leaned in, her face brushing against Ji Huaqing’s, watching the panic in her eyes. The cold fragrance filled her nostrils. The two of them wore the same perfume; now, no one could tell whose was stronger.

“Gu Yining, between you and me…” Ji Huaqing forced the words out. This time, she didn’t push her away, but looked at her with forced composure. “This isn’t the right time to talk about this. I want to know about my parents.”

Coming out of the police station hall, Ji Huaqing had been very calm. The moment she’d stepped off the plane and been treated like a freak, she’d understood that she’d been abandoned by the world.

Gu Yining was taken aback. The lazy smile in her eyes was quickly scattered, and her tone turned cold and distant. “They passed away five years ago. I don’t know the details. I’ll have someone explain it to you.”

At that, Ji Huaqing’s eyes reddened. She turned to look at the familiar living room. Nothing had changed; it was exactly the same as before she’d left.

She lowered her head, drew a deep breath, and tried to regulate her breathing. She was Gu Yining’s teacher, her elder. She couldn’t show weakness in front of her.

The news of her parents’ deaths had demolished her emotions in an instant. Before boarding the plane, she’d spoken to her mother on the phone. Her mother had said she’d cook all her favorite dishes and wait for her to come home.

Now, in just a few short hours, her family was gone.

She struggled to steady her breathing, her head bowed, her fair skin flushing red. Gu Yining watched her without blinking, then suddenly gripped her wrist. “If you want to cry, then cry. Nobody says you can’t. Teacher Ji, that girl in the hall cried her heart out, and no one thought she was wrong.”

Ji Huaqing pulled her hand back and turned away, her eyes dimming. “Thank you. Thank you for taking me out of there.”

Gu Yining was stunned. Hearing her thanks brought her no joy at all. The fingers at her side twitched—she wanted to reach out and hold her.

In the end, she clasped her hands behind her back, pressing so hard they went numb. Finally, she offered a soft smile. “No need to thank me. I just did what I should do.”

Gu Yining came out of the kitchen, walked to the sofa, grabbed her phone, unlocked it, opened the album, and held it out to her. “Your parents.”

On the large phone screen, Ji Huaqing’s parents appeared clearly. It was Mama Ji’s birthday—in the photo, she looked thin, wearing a birthday hat, laughing happily.

Ji Huaqing stared at the screen, her reddened eyes fixed on it. Gu Yining openly studied her face, her gaze softening again and again, then let out a gentle breath. “Keep it.”

Ji Huaqing was lost in the photo. Gu Yining, as if finally finding an excuse to touch her, took her hand, opened her palm, and laid the phone sideways in it.

“Teacher Ji, you’re like a child.” Gu Yining mocked, the corner of her mouth lifting, laughing both bewitchingly and with a hint of coldness.

She had a pair of beautiful eyes. When she looked at people, they showed sincerity—clearly black and white, like polished dark jade. At eighteen, Gu Yining’s eyes had always been full of Ji Huaqing. In this moment, a layer of thick fog lay over her eyes—but if you parted the mist, you’d find Ji Huaqing still hidden there.

She stared at Ji Huaqing with total focus, as if she herself had parted the clouds to reveal Ji Huaqing completely.

Ji Huaqing held the phone, sobbing uncontrollably. The light fell like a net, wrapping around her, suffocating her in misery.

To Gu Yining, she seemed utterly unreal. She murmured, “Teacher Ji… did you really come back?”

She looked toward the black night beyond the balcony, her heart racing wildly. She raised an eyebrow and smiled.

Her Teacher Ji was back.

This wasn’t a dream!

Gu Yining went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and handed it to the grieving woman. Ji Huaqing lifted her head. Tears slid freely down her cheeks. The helplessness had completely consumed her.

“Drink some water. Gone silly?” Gu Yining clicked her tongue. “Who exactly is the teacher here?”

She snatched her phone back from Ji Huaqing’s hands and pressed the cup into them.

Ji Huaqing held back her tears, meeting Gu Yining’s eyes. The other woman’s eyes held laughter, and mockery too.

Who was the teacher?

Gu Yining’s heart trembled under that gaze. Her ears suddenly grew hot, and she couldn’t help turning her face away. “I’m serious. You’ve fallen behind by fifteen years. You seem to have lost all self-care ability.”

Ji Huaqing took the cup. The warm water flowed over her parched throat, soothing her all over.

Under the light, Gu Yining sat on the sofa, her long legs straight and fair. Ji Huaqing looked at her and regained her clarity. “Regardless, thank you.”

“Drop the thanks.” Gu Yining leaned against the sofa, entirely relaxed. “Oh, right. Your pajamas are still in the wardrobe—go find them. But they’re years old now. I bought you new ones; they’re in the other wardrobe.”

“When did you buy them?” Ji Huaqing caught the key point. She’d been declared dead—and yet Gu Yining had bought her clothes?

Gu Yining tilted her head. The vivid red seemed to catch fire in the lamplight, leaping into her eyes. Her gaze fixed on Ji Huaqing’s face, and she chuckled. “I bought them just a few days ago. I thought—what if you came back someday with nothing to wear? That would make me a pretty lousy student. Teacher Ji, are you satisfied with this student of yours?”