A sliver of morning light slanted in from the south window, landing at Gu Yining’s feet. She lifted her foot and stepped on the sunlight, then handed her phone to Ji Huaqing. “This is voice chat. You can also video call, so you can see whoever you want to see the moment you miss them.”
That little stomp made Ji Huaqing’s eyelids jump. That move—she still acted like a child.
Seeing no reaction from her, Gu Yining unconsciously looked down at her own foot, then curved her eyes warmly. “Have you never seen sunlight before?”
Noticing the shift in her eyes, Ji Huaqing remained dazed. How did Gu Yining switch so easily between cold aloofness and gentle warmth?
Gu Yining’s hair was pinned up, revealing a long, slender neck with elegant lines. The nightgown hung loosely on her; her collarbones were half-hidden, her skin fair and fine.
She lounged against the sofa, her long legs crossed, speaking with a smile. But Ji Huaqing felt it wasn’t a real smile—more like a smiling mask.
Sunlight stretched in from the balcony, falling on Gu Yining’s right hand as it held the phone. She extended the pale hand a little further. “Don’t you want to try?”
Ji Huaqing kept losing focus, feeling dazed. She unconsciously took the phone, her fingertip touching the screen. Gu Yining reminded her, “Use the pad of your finger. Phone screens these days don’t respond to fingernails.”
Obediently, Ji Huaqing swiped with her fingertip. It worked. She slid the screen and caught sight of the conversation between Gu Yining and Song Mingyao from last night.
Before she could read more than a glance, Gu Yining covered her hand and pressed the back button. Among a host of names, she tapped one labeled “Teacher Zhou.” “Want to see her?”
“Zhou Hui?” Ji Huaqing blurted. “Is she still at No. 1 High?”
“No. She founded a private school, competing with No. 1 High. I’ve visited her campus—the facilities are excellent.” Gu Yining said briefly. Seeing her puzzled expression, the coldness in her eyes deepened. “Missing her?”
Ji Huaqing taught Chinese; Zhou Hui taught math. The two of them at No. 1 High had earned the nickname the Twin Terrors of Yama.
Privately, they were close—close enough that they’d go drinking in the middle of the night and call Gu Yining to come pick them up.
Ji Huaqing shook her head. Gu Yining looked at her. “She has a girlfriend, but it’s very hush-hush. Back then it caused a big stir; she resigned and started the school. The two of them run it, one as principal, one as vice. But outsiders don’t know they’re a couple—they just think they’ve stayed single for years for the sake of the school.”
“A girlfriend?” Ji Huaqing exclaimed. “I remember now—one night when we were drunk, she mentioned it. I thought it was a joke.”
Her old friend had stayed unmarried for years for her girlfriend. It made Ji Huaqing suddenly wonder if her own thinking was too old-fashioned.
“Really.” Gu Yining tilted her head and laughed. Light fell into her amber eyes, her face as rosy as sunset clouds.
Startled from her thoughts, Ji Huaqing felt the back of her hand grow warm. Gu Yining was still holding it, her posture unchanged—the back of her hand fair, her finger bones well-proportioned. Ji Huaqing moved slightly. Gu Yining said, “These past few years she’s been fighting No. 1 High for students, at full blaze. She uses money to poach top students and time to train the weaker ones. In their hands, no one fails to get into university. Her school has a break every two weeks, and even if a student lives right next door, they have to board. It’s death training.”
Ji Huaqing’s chest warmed. She tried to pull her hand back. “Gu Yining.”
“Sorry.” Gu Yining apologized, looking at her gently. “I thought you’d be more interested in Zhou Hui’s rise to fame.”
That unfamiliar, cold gentleness made Ji Huaqing look up at her for a moment. “We were just friends. That night she’d been scolded by a student’s parent and was upset, so she dragged me out to vent.”
“Back then, when I asked, you never explained.” Gu Yining looked into her eyes. “Teacher Ji, this explanation of yours is fifteen years late.”
“You were a student then. Our positions were opposed—how was I supposed to explain it to you?” Ji Huaqing sighed. “That parent thought Zhou Hui…”
She found it hard to say, and lowered her head. The woman across from her reached out, lifting her chin. Their eyes met, and Ji Huaqing felt scalded by the look. She hurriedly looked away, not forgetting to brush Gu Yining’s hand aside.
The gesture was too intimate, stirring the imagination.
“What happened to Teacher Zhou?” Gu Yining pressed, narrowing her eyes slightly. “What’s so hard for Teacher to say?”
Ji Huaqing didn’t continue. Gu Yining’s gaze was too piercing, so she dismissed it: “Ask Zhou Hui yourself.”
Gu Yining smiled again and got up to wash up.
Ji Huaqing watched her back. She was naturally tall—a meter seventy—with her hair pinned up, giving her an added charm and intellectual elegance. The coldness around her inspired a sense of awe.
Where Gu Yining couldn’t see her, a trace of self-mockery rose in Ji Huaqing’s eyes. She was actually feeling awe toward her own student.
Suddenly, the phone screen lit up. She glanced at it.
【Are you free today? Tonight?】
No name, straight to the point.
Ji Huaqing paused at the message, then tried to swipe the screen. It was locked, requiring a password.
She tried Gu Yining’s birthday. Incorrect.
On a whim, she tried her own birthday. Still incorrect.
She gritted her teeth. A voice came from the bathroom: “The password is 090620. See who’s looking for me. If it’s Song Mingyao, she’s probably asking what color you like. Pick one yourself.”
As the voice faded, the screen unlocked. The name attached was “Pei Yirou.”
Gu Yining. Pei Yirou.
Those two names sounded good together.
She looked at the message and wondered who Pei Yirou was. She asked, “Pei Yirou wants to meet you tonight.”
“She’s my mom’s best friend’s daughter. Tell her you’re not free tonight.”
Gu Yining walked out of the bathroom, her brows slightly furrowed, her black wavy hair tied in a ponytail. Her neck glowed white. For some reason, the corners of her eyes were faintly red, as if tinged with rose pigment.
Ji Huaqing’s eyelids twitched. She quickly averted her gaze and typed out a quick reply.
The other side replied even faster—a sticker that said “Not happy, need soothing.”
Pei Yirou’s stickers were different from Song Mingyao’s. Clearly, Pei Yirou had a more intimate relationship with Gu Yining.
While she was puzzling over it, the other side sent: 【Tonight it is, then. Otherwise I’ll die on you.】
Gu Yining walked over, glanced at the screen, took the phone, and quickly typed: 【Very well. Do as you please.】
Pei Yirou, unhappy: 【You’ve changed. You used to say we’d die together.】
Gu Yining, calm: 【I don’t want to die anymore. I want to live.】
Pei Yirou: 【The psychological counselor’s really been helping, huh.】
Gu Yining paused, her eyes sweeping over Ji Huaqing’s carefully composed face. Her eyelids drooped coldly as she typed: 【The person who makes me want to live is back. We’ll meet tonight. You pick the place—somewhere not too rowdy. My teacher doesn’t like rowdy places.】
Pei Yirou replied with a shocked sticker. Gu Yining said, 【We’ll talk when we meet.】
Then she deleted the chat history and handed the phone back to Ji Huaqing before returning to the bathroom.
When the phone was back in Ji Huaqing’s hands, the chat history was empty, as if hiding an illicit affair.
Ji Huaqing lost all interest in playing with it. She tossed it aside. When Gu Yining emerged from the bathroom in casual clothes, her tall, slender figure was once again a striking sight.
Before she turned eighteen, Gu Yining had studied dance—classical dance. Her mother had raised her well, and with over ten years of foundation, she exuded the refined air of a classical dancer. Her posture, her bearing, her straight back—all conveyed a graceful elegance.
“Teacher Ji, there are disposable toiletries in the bathroom, and disposable towels too.”
Gu Yining walked slowly to the sofa, casually opened her phone. The screen light illuminated her dark, shadowed eyes.
Ji Huaqing got up and headed for the bathroom.
Gu Yining’s eyes lingered on the phone for no more than three seconds, then lifted to Ji Huaqing’s retreating figure, carrying a trace of a smile.
She opened the chat with Pei Yirou and typed a line: 【Remember to keep a low profile tonight. Don’t dress ridiculously.】
Ji Huaqing was a teacher; compared to ordinary people, her thinking was somewhat old-fashioned. She disliked flashy clothes. Most of her wardrobe was shirts. At school, she’d been happy to wear the work uniform—other teachers thought it was ugly and refused, but she wore it gladly.
Still, Ji Huaqing’s beauty was famous at No. 1 High. She managed to give the teacher’s uniform a style all her own.
Cool and otherworldly, she made students afraid at a single glance. She never yelled, never hit, but with a single look she could make the most rebellious students behave.
Everyone loves beauty, and Ji Huaqing was both cold and lovely, so students were happy to look at her.
Word had it that students fought to get into her class. Parents sent their children there for academics—her class was the honors class—while the students went for the pretty teacher.
Ji Huaqing washed up and quickly returned. Gu Yining opened the breakfast and set it before her. “Eat something. We’ll go out for lunch.”
The breakfast was simple: congee and steamed dumplings.
Ji Huaqing noticed Gu Yining hadn’t touched hers. “You’re not eating?”
“Not hungry. I just have a glass of milk in the morning—can’t stomach food this early.” Gu Yining looked down at her phone, her long fingers typing continuously.
She sat on the sofa, simple and still, as if gilded with a soft light.
Ji Huaqing frowned. “You can’t even drink congee?”
The typing hand suddenly trembled. Muscle memory made Gu Yining look up, accidentally meeting Ji Huaqing’s eyes.
The next second, she willingly picked up the congee on the coffee table, regarded it, and said to herself, “It’s fine, actually.”
They each ate in silence. Gu Yining only had the bowl of congee. As she set it down, the doorbell rang.
Ji Huaqing was closest to the door. She went to open it—it was Song Mingyao again.
Song Mingyao held a phone box in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.
She hadn’t expected Ji Huaqing to answer the door. Looking at the flowers, she didn’t know what to say. Awkwardly, she invented an excuse: “They’re having a promotion today. I bought a phone, and they gave me flowers.”
![A Scoundrel Disciple’s Guide to Immortal Cultivation [Transmigration]](https://i3.wp.com/dobytranslations.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/scoun.png?resize=151,215 "A Scoundrel Disciple’s Guide to Immortal Cultivation [Transmigration]")
