Chapter 50

No one had expected this young couple, not even a month into their marriage, to be so in sync.

One refused to back down and went straight on the offensive; the other caught on instantly and matched her move for move.

The two of them worked together with perfect tacit understanding, airtight and seamless, until they actually shut down Jin Xinyue’s probing question.

Her carefully maintained expression flickered through several changes before settling into an awkward, vague laugh. For a long while, she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

With no one else stirring up trouble, the atmosphere at the family dinner eased considerably.

Porcelain cups clinked softly; warm voices and easy laughter rose and fell; the meal was pleasant enough that both host and guests ate to their satisfaction.

After dinner, everyone moved to the cozy tea room.

Sandalwood smoke curled faintly upward as several rounds of tea were poured. They chatted idly about harmless, trivial things.

Outside, night had deepened into an inky blackness, making the lamplight inside the room seem even warmer and more golden.

Seeing that it was getting late, Jiang Linyue was the first to set down her teacup and stand, politely taking her leave from Jin Shuangye at the seat of honor and from everyone else.

“I’ll see you out,” Jin Ziyu said, rising as well, her tone brisk.

Almost at the same time, Wen Yan subconsciously looked up and blurted, “Senior, I’ll see you out too.”

Jin Zijin, who had been turned slightly toward her mother and speaking in a low voice, turned her head at the sound.

Her gaze landed first on Wen Yan’s face. It paused for a beat, her expression calm and unreadable, before sliding to Jiang Linyue beside her.

Jin Zijin smiled politely, her voice as gentle as ever. “In that case, I’ll go with you and see Miss Jiang out too.”

“Okay.” Wen Yan nodded, not noticing anything strange.

Jiang Linyue hurriedly said there was no need to trouble them, but the three of them had already left the warm, tea-scented room, one on each side escorting her.

Jin Ziyu watched the three figures leave in succession and raised a brow with a smile. “Fine, none of my business then. I won’t get in the way; you two take your time.”

As soon as they stepped out of the room, the biting cold of the winter night hit them full in the face, completely different from the warmth inside.

Their breath turned instantly into white mist, scattering into the crisp air.

The courtyard’s blue-stone path had clearly been swept carefully during the day; under the lanterns hanging from the eaves, it glimmered with a damp, dim sheen.

Their footsteps fell on it with crisp taps, one after another, sounding especially clear in the silence of the deep old mansion.

Wen Yan walked beside Jiang Linyue, half a step behind, and asked with concern, “Senior, are you planning to stay in the country long this time after coming back?”

Jiang Linyue nodded slightly. The night outlined her delicate features as her voice remained steady. “Mm. That’s the plan.”

“The team’s basic research phase is coming to an end, so the center of gravity has to shift back. The later clinical translation and project implementation will both depend on local resources and the local environment.”

“That’s great,” Wen Yan said, her eyes brightening. Genuine delight laced her tone. “If we’re all in the capital from now on, it’ll be easier to stay in touch. We can get together often.”

Jiang Linyue turned to look at her; the lantern light under the corridor roof scattered tiny points of brightness in her eyes.

A faint smile touched her lips, carrying a trace of familiar teasing from years ago. “How would we get together?”

“Like before? Wasting an entire afternoon at the climbing gym on a weekend? Or finding some deep mountain wilderness, packing up a tent, and heading off to hike and camp?”

“Sure,” Wen Yan answered quickly, as if the words had stirred up many pleasant memories. Her brows and eyes softened. “This season is cold, but hiking in the snow mountains has its own charm.”

“Fewer people; cleaner scenery.”

Half joking, half testing the waters, Jiang Linyue’s gaze drifted over Wen Yan and then, seemingly casually, swept past Jin Zijin beside her. “Aren’t you at the orthopedics department of the Peking University Affiliated Hospital now? I heard your surgery schedule is packed like a nonstop performance; do you really have time?”

“More or less,” Wen Yan said after a brief thought. “I should be able to squeeze out a few days over New Year’s Day. Then I’ll have time.”

Jin Zijin, listening quietly on the side, kept her expression appropriately mild; when their eyes met, she even gave a barely perceptible nod.

Only the fingers hanging by her side, hidden in the sleeve of her coat, curled slightly.

Oh, New Year’s Day off…

So she was “free,” was she?

Who was it just a few days ago, frowning at the calendar and saying the department was so busy at the end of the year that her feet barely touched the ground, even the trip to the hot-spring resort outside the city having to be postponed again and again?

And yet, with this senior here, snow-mountain hiking was suddenly a “charming” and “good” option, and time had magically become available?

Wen Yan remained completely unaware of the faint, sour jealousy quietly spreading beside her.

Her eyes were still bright as she looked at Jiang Linyue, carrying an unguarded closeness.

She had never had many friends, and even fewer had truly entered her world.

Jiang Linyue was a very special one among them; in those youthful years, they had been comrades walking side by side.

Now that they’d finally met again after such a long separation, Wen Yan was overjoyed.

That joy even carried a little of a young person’s skipping brightness, vivid and lively.

It was a side of her Jin Zijin had never seen before.

That made Jin Zijin feel blocked up inside.

Jiang Linyue, too, was quietly watching Wen Yan with focused eyes.

The person before her had long since shed her immaturity; she was tall and straight-backed, the midnight-blue velvet dress wrapped beneath a heavy overcoat, revealing only a sliver of delicate ankle and the pointed toe of a shoe.

Her hair was pinned up without a strand out of place. At the boundary between night and dim yellow light, the line of her neck was elegant as a swan’s, her profile calm, carrying a beauty of steadiness and strength honed by time.

She was already a completely different sight from the thin, quiet little junior in her memory, the one with a serene gaze who always followed behind her silently.

At this moment, Wen Yan stood beside Jin Zijin.

The two of them were shoulder to shoulder, nearly the same height; one cool as bamboo, the other striking as blue flame. Their temperaments were similar, yet somehow full of an intense, almost palpable tension.

Standing together, they formed their own atmosphere; they looked so well-matched it was almost jarring.

Jiang Linyue pressed her lips together and forced down the bitterness that had suddenly welled up in her heart.

Then she curved her lips and teased lightly, “You finally have some time off, and instead of spending it with your new wife and enjoying some quiet warmth together, you’re free to accompany an old senior like me into the mountains. Aren’t you afraid the one at home will get jealous?”

Wen Yan froze. Only then did she seem to realize something and instinctively turned to look at Jin Zijin.

Jin Zijin smoothly took over the conversation, her voice soft and even, with no hint of oddness. “It’s fine. If you two want to go hiking, I can arrange it too.”

“Just right; there are some schedules at the end of the year that can be adjusted. If we can squeeze out a few days off, then going together would be good.”

Wen Yan’s eyes widened slightly, surprised but also a little delighted. “Didn’t you say before that you were especially busy at the end of the year, with several important meetings and project wrap-ups all packed in? You can really make time?”

Seeing Wen Yan’s completely trusting expression, tinged with surprise and uncertainty, that strange, churning sourness in Jin Zijin’s heart was oddly soothed a little.

At the very least, Wen Yan’s first reaction had been concern for her schedule, not eagerness to travel alone with an old friend.

The smile on Jin Zijin’s lips deepened. She met Wen Yan’s eyes and answered with quiet certainty and indulgence, “Of course.”

“As long as it’s to accompany you, I can always make time.”

Wen Yan smiled, but her voice softened considerably. “You don’t have to force yourself.”

“Senior and I can arrange it ourselves. Your work matters more; hiking isn’t that big of a deal…”

“It’s not forcing myself.” Jin Zijin cut her off. She reached out, lightly hooking her fingertips around Wen Yan’s coat sleeve, her gesture affectionate and dependent. “I want to accompany you.”

She paused, lowering her voice a little. “I want to be with you.”

Their eyes met; a tacit understanding and tenderness flowed between them, impossible for outsiders to break into.

Just a few lines of conversation had woven an invisible net, isolating them from the outside world.

Again like this…

Jiang Linyue watched in silence, her nails unknowingly digging into her palm.

The faint bitterness in her heart, like ink dropped into clear water, spread uncontrollably, slowly seeping through her limbs and bones.

Standing together, they looked so natural, as if that were only right.

That atmosphere of utter intimacy was like a transparent but solid barrier, firmly keeping her locked in the past and in the position of nothing more than a “friend” or “old acquaintance.”

She had once been certain that with Wen Yan’s aloof, quiet nature, as though she had been born missing a string for matters of the heart, she probably would never truly fall for anyone or stay for anyone in her entire life.

Even if fate played tricks and they never ended up together, she would still have been the person closest to “special” in Wen Yan’s life.

After all, it had been she who helped Wen Yan break free from the monotony of study and see a wider, more colorful world.

It had been she who taught her boxing, climbing, hiking, and camping, giving her strength and wildness.

It had been she who accompanied her through all those sensitive, stubborn years of youth, sharing countless moments at cafeteria tables and starlight in the mountains.

But now, it seemed that was not the case at all.

Her “specialness,” the “uniqueness” she had once believed to be as solid as gold, had been so easily replaced.

Because Wen Yan had a wife.

In the day-to-day closeness of life, there was now someone who could make her let down her guard and show such vivid, lively expressions.

Unwillingness, regret, and that long-buried longing that had never even had the chance to be spoken before dying an untimely death all churned and burned in her chest.

Her chest felt so tight it hurt; something seemed to be stuck in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

Jiang Linyue forced herself to look away and toward the blurred treetops swallowed by darkness in the courtyard’s depths. She drew in a deep breath of the icy air.

Then she spoke, striving to keep her voice steady, forcing out a note of anticipation to break the suffocating intimacy between them. “All right. If there’s a chance next time, we can plan a hiking route across some beautiful snow mountains together.”

“Camping in the snow, watching the galaxy at night, and seeing the first sunlight turn the mountains golden in the morning should all be very interesting.”

As she spoke, she looked back at Wen Yan, carefully avoiding Jin Zijin’s direction.

Wen Yan turned toward her, her smile bright and clear, as if the brief strange atmosphere just now had never existed. “Then it’s a deal, Senior. Call me when you’re free. I’ll keep an eye on my schedule.”

“Okay.” Jiang Linyue nodded, trying hard to pull out a natural smile.

While they were talking, they had reached the side gate of the old residence.

A black sedan waited silently by the roadside; the driver had long been standing by the car. Seeing them come out, he respectfully opened the rear door.

Jiang Linyue gave them one last nod, opened the door, and bent to get in.

Before the door closed, she waved once more through the window.

“Senior, let me know when you get home,” Wen Yan said, stepping forward half a step to remind her through the glass.

“Mm, I will.” Jiang Linyue’s voice came muffled through the window, which had not yet fully risen.

With a soft click, the door shut tightly, separating inside from outside into two different worlds.

The privacy glass slowly rose, completely hiding Jiang Linyue’s seated figure and leaving only a deep, lightless black.

The engine gave a low hum; the car started smoothly and glided into the drive.

Its taillights drew two dark-red arcs through the cold winter night, receding along the winding private road.

Finally, it turned a corner and disappeared entirely into the sparse, distant city lights and the heavy darkness beyond, leaving no trace behind.

Wen Yan stood where she was, looking in the direction the car had vanished for a while.

The night wind lifted the hem of her coat. She seemed to drift into thought for a moment; only after a while did she draw her gaze back, her long lashes casting a small shadow beneath her eyes.

“Let’s go, Zijin. We’re heading back.” She turned and naturally extended a hand to take Jin Zijin’s arm.

Wen Yan drew her a little closer, her voice returning to its usual gentle tone.

“Okay.” Jin Zijin answered, letting her hold on to her.

The two of them walked side by side back along the same blue-stone path, toward the brightly lit main house.

Their footsteps sounded again in the quiet courtyard, and neither of them spoke. The atmosphere all at once became a little subtle.

After walking a short distance, Jin Zijin finally began a seemingly casual conversation, her voice especially flat in the night air. “Your senior… is she the one you mentioned before, the one who taught you how to cook?”

Wen Yan briefly pulled herself away from the lingering reluctance of reuniting with an old friend and nodded. “Mm, that’s her.”

Jin Zijin’s tone was even, giving away no emotion, as though she were chatting idly. “You really were close. Back when you were in school, she took good care of you?”

“Yeah.” Wen Yan nodded. Her thoughts seemed to be drawn backward by the question. “Back then… I was determined to study medicine, but my family didn’t really support it. My mom controlled the living allowance pretty tightly.”

“In fact, it was enough for meals; it was just that a lot of daily things had to be carefully budgeted for.”

“For example, laundry. I had to save up enough before going to the public laundry room.”

As she spoke, her lips unconsciously curved as if she had remembered something warm. “Several times I didn’t have enough change, or the machine swallowed my coins. Whenever I happened to run into Senior, she’d help me exchange them for coins, or just hand me a few herself.”

Jin Zijin asked with feigned curiosity, “Oh? What else?”

Wen Yan’s gaze fell on the stone path ahead, lit by lantern light. Her profile was soft in the interplay of shadow and glow, though her emotions were hard to read.

She thought for a moment, then spoke in bits and pieces. “Also… back then I was probably still growing, and sometimes the cafeteria portions weren’t quite enough for me.”

“Whenever I ran into her in the cafeteria, she’d naturally take the ribs or chicken leg off her own plate and give them to me, saying, ‘Senior is dieting; you eat more and grow taller.’”

A gentle, nostalgic light surfaced in Wen Yan’s eyes; her pace quickened a little. “She really took me to try a lot of things.”

“My boxing and climbing were both things she got me started in; she taught me by hand.”

“She also often organized hikes, mountain climbs, camping… During most of my college years, I spent almost all my free time with her and a group of people from the club.”

Jin Zijin listened quietly. At last, she gave a soft “oh.”

“No wonder…” She paused, then continued, her voice still calm and level. “Your relationship really is deep.”

As soon as the words fell, Wen Yan stopped walking.

The end of the stone path was not far ahead, and the warm light spilling from the main house was already clearly visible.

But she stopped, the fingers holding Jin Zijin’s arm tightening almost imperceptibly.

She had caught the trace of something different in Jin Zijin’s tone; it was calmer than usual.

That stirred a feeling in Wen Yan called fear.

Was she scared?

If not, why was her heartbeat going out of rhythm?

Panic made her whole body tremble.

Wen Yan let go of Jin Zijin’s arm, turned around, and faced her fully.

In the hazy glow of the lantern under the eaves, she lowered her head slightly, her gaze slowly tracing over Jin Zijin’s face inch by inch, trying to find some clue beneath that perfect, proper expression.

“Zijin?” she called softly, a barely perceptible tension creeping into her voice.

Jin Zijin lifted her lashes. Her eyes were deep in the dim yellow light, reflecting bits of brightness, but her emotions were impossible to make out.

“Yes?” she replied, her tone calm.

The unease in Wen Yan’s chest deepened for no reason she could identify.

She raised a hand and gently held Jin Zijin’s shoulders, staring into her eyes as she asked carefully, “Are you angry?”

Jin Zijin looked up at her and forced a faint smile. “No.”

What would she be angry about?

What was there for her to be angry over?

Wen Yan didn’t believe it.

Her eyes searched Jin Zijin’s face, and the grip of her hand tightened unconsciously. “Zijin, I’m asking you again: are you angry? Answer me seriously, okay?”

Jin Zijin lifted her gaze and looked into those eyes now full of concern, anxiety, and stubbornness.

The sourness in her heart, with nowhere else to go, finally seemed to find a crack through which it could spill.

She glanced at the wintersweet blooming by the roadside in the night, then turned her eyes back to Wen Yan and let out a soft sigh.

Her breath dissolved into the cold winter air. Jin Zijin looked into Wen Yan’s eyes and said quietly, “I don’t even know if I’m angry… or jealous.”

Under the faint lantern light, her eyes shimmered wetly. Rarely, she showed a hint of frustration and helplessness. “Maybe a little of both.”

“Anyway, right now… I’m a bit out of sorts. Not quite like myself.”

After a pause, Jin Zijin laid her subtle emotions bare in front of Wen Yan without reserve. “That makes me a little unhappy.”

Wen Yan was stunned.

Looking at the vulnerability and confusion in Jin Zijin’s eyes, her own chest ached with a dense, sour pain.

She held Jin Zijin’s shoulders and asked urgently, awkwardly, “Then what should I do? What can I do to make you… happier?”

Wen Yan was very good at classifying and sorting out her own emotions, but she had a hard time finding the right way to receive someone else’s.

Her upbringing had made her especially bad at dealing with the negative emotions that arose in intimate relationships.

She was flustered and frightened, and Jin Zijin’s slight emotional shift sent her into deep unease.

This was the emotion she had sensed most often in her childhood.

Because anger meant “the withdrawal of care,” “the arrival of punishment,” and “the loss of love.”

It made her profoundly uneasy.

Seeing the anxiety rising in her eyes, Jin Zijin thought for a moment before saying, “I don’t know… I rarely have moments like this.”

At that, she smiled and gently reassured her, “It’s okay. I probably just need some time to work through it myself.”

As she spoke, she tried to pull her hand back, intending to end the sudden rush of emotion. “All right, it’s cold outside. Let’s go in fir—”

Before she could finish, Wen Yan had already reached out and, without hesitation, pulled her into her arms.

Her movement was a little rushed, clumsy and forceful.

Their cashmere coats rubbed together, carrying the chill of the outdoors with them and making a faint rustling sound.

Wen Yan wrapped one arm around Jin Zijin’s waist and held her tightly; with the other, she lifted a hand to gently press the back of her head, letting her slightly cool cheek rest against the warm hollow of her neck.

“A hug…” she said uneasily, her warm breath falling by Jin Zijin’s ear, awkward yet sincere. “I’m hugging you…”

“If I hug you, will you feel a little better?”

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Ah, Wen Yan. Once someone like this falls in love, she’s completely done for. [laughing through tears]