Chapter 29
It was a shame they were in a public place.
Otherwise, Lu Yin wouldn’t have been able to stop herself.
“Sister!” Lu Yin didn’t respond, so Lin Qianqian called out again, insistent.
Lu Yin walked down from the podium, carrying a stack of books. “What are you doing here?”
She approached Lin Qianqian, her hand hovering over Lin Qianqian’s damp hair, then stopping herself.
“I came to pick you up,” Lin Qianqian said, following her out of the classroom.
Lu Yin hesitated, then started walking.
“What’s wrong?” Lin Qianqian asked, glancing out the window. The rain seemed to be getting heavier.
“I have an early class tomorrow. I wasn’t planning on going home.”
“…Oh,” Lin Qianqian said, not surprised.
“Let me put these books away, and then we can go,” Lu Yin said, changing her mind. She noticed Lin Qianqian’s damp clothes. “Did you walk here in the rain?”
“It started raining while I was on the subway. I didn’t have an umbrella.”
The rain intensified. Lin Qianqian was about to make a dash for the office when Lu Yin grabbed her hand.
“This way,” Lu Yin said. “There’s a clean jacket in the office. You can change.”
Lu Yin opened a door leading to the office area. “A secret passage!” Lin Qianqian exclaimed.
Lu Yin walked quickly. Lin Qianqian hurried to keep up, taking Lu Yin’s hand.
Walking beside her, she glanced at Lu Yin, who seemed unfazed, and interlaced their fingers.
It was a one-sided gesture, but it filled her with a quiet satisfaction.
Lu Yin’s fingers were cold, only her palm offering a hint of warmth.
“Did you resolve your problem?” Lu Yin asked, pulling her hand as they turned a corner.
Lin Qianqian, startled by the sudden tug, yelped. “Yes, it’s resolved.”
Lu Yin looked at her, a flicker of concern in her eyes. “Let me know if you need help. I’ll find a solution.”
“Of course. Asking for your help is easy,” Lin Qianqian winked, earning a无奈exasperated look from Lu Yin.
She squeezed Lu Yin’s hand, then released it, then squeezed it again, a playful, repetitive gesture.
Lu Yin, her arms full of books, couldn’t open the door. She tugged at her hand, but Lin Qianqian’s grip was firm.
“Hey! Let go! You’re so stingy,” Lin Qianqian said, mock-angry.
“Open the door,” Lu Yin said calmly.
Lin Qianqian’s face flushed. She released Lu Yin’s hand and gestured towards the doorknob with exaggerated politeness.
Lu Yin opened the door and handed Lin Qianqian a jacket.
“You should really get an electronic lock,” Lin Qianqian said, changing into the dry jacket. “The kind with facial recognition.”
“This used to be a private school. It was abandoned after they built the commercial building next door,” Lu Yin explained. “Didn’t you notice all the empty classrooms in the studio area?”
The layout of the building, with the studios and offices in close proximity, was unusual, offering both convenience and privacy.
That’s why the studios were constantly being renovated but never fully modernized.
They had considered moving the studios to a new location, but hadn’t found a suitable space. Having the studios too far from the offices would be inconvenient.
Now, potential clients could tour both areas easily.
Lu Yin rarely went to the office area. The staff there handled the institution’s marketing and advertising. She preferred to focus on teaching, her world confined to the classrooms and the teachers’ office.
Yu Miao, however, was everywhere, handling all aspects of the business, despite their agreement that Lu Yin would only be responsible for teaching.
The rain continued, the downpour intensifying. Lu Yin opened her laptop and entered the students’ grades, preparing personalized progress reports.
“Are you hungry?” she asked Lin Qianqian, worried she was bored.
“I ate before coming here,” Lin Qianqian shook her head. “You’re busy. Let’s wait until the rain stops.”
She zipped up the jacket and wandered around the office, examining the decor.
She had been here before, during the filming, but they had focused on the studios and the artwork. She hadn’t really looked at the office.
A display on the wall showcased the institution’s instructors.
Lin Qianqian saw three photos in the first row: Lu Yin, Yu Miao, and a third woman she recognized but didn’t know the name of.
The woman from the video call, the woman who had been at Lu Yin’s apartment.
Her name was Zhong Shiwu.
“Is she a teacher here too?” Lin Qianqian asked, pointing at the photo.
Lu Yin glanced at it. “No, she’s a partner. She invested in the institution, but she doesn’t come here often.”
She paused, then added, “Yu Jie handles most of the administrative work, dealing with clients, admissions, and even teaching a few classes, mostly private lessons.”
“Oh,” Lin Qianqian said, her voice trailing off.
She couldn’t very well admit she had considered this woman a rival.
That would be too embarrassing.
“What were you thinking?” Lu Yin asked, her gaze meeting Lin Qianqian’s.
It wasn’t a sarcastic question, more like a genuine inquiry, as if she wanted to understand Lin Qianqian’s thoughts.
“I was just wondering, what if someone steals you away from me?” Lin Qianqian blurted out, her insecurity getting the better of her.
She was afraid that, upon returning, she would find Lu Yin had moved on, found someone new.
She had given up everything to come back, just like Lu Yin had given up everything to send her away four years ago.
If things didn’t work out, she didn’t know what she would do.
“That’s why I have to keep an eye on you,” she continued, answering her own question, not expecting a reassuring response from Lu Yin. “I can’t let anyone else have my wonderful sister all to themselves…”
“That won’t happen,” Lu Yin said, her voice soft, unclear whether she was referring to the potential theft or something else entirely.
She returned to her work, the sound of typing filling the room.
Lin Qianqian sat beside her, resting her head on her hand. “So many C’s. You were the one who got reported, weren’t you?”
“Yes,” Lu Yin admitted readily. “If their work is bad, it’s bad. I won’t inflate anyone’s grades. It’s not a real exam anyway. If they’re not even trying with their homework, then attending these classes is a waste of time.”
Lin Qianqian didn’t doubt Lu Yin’s professionalism or her teaching abilities.
Especially when it came to discipline. She had learned that the hard way as a child.
“Keep an eye on me all you want. I have work to do,” Lin Qianqian said, unable to argue with Lu Yin about art, offering a meaningless platitude.
She watched Lu Yin enter grades, noticing a student who consistently received A+.
“This one seems to have caught your eye,” she said, rummaging through the stack of assignments. Seeing Lu Yin didn’t mind, she took the entire stack. “Their work is really good.”
Even she, an untrained eye, could see it.
“There are always a few exceptional students in every class,” Lu Yin said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.
Lin Qianqian couldn’t fully comprehend that kind of artistic camaraderie, but she understood it intellectually.
Lu Yin, an artistic genius, always appreciated talent in others.
But Lin Qianqian’s appreciation was never pure, always tinged with a hint of jealousy.
Even as a child, she would be jealous of the students who placed second and third, envious of their opportunity to stand beside Lu Yin on the podium.
Lu Yin, so talented, deserved to stand alone, above everyone else.
But then Lu Yin had given up her chance to study abroad, given up painting, even injuring her right hand.
Lin Qianqian couldn’t forget that day, watching Lu Yin, her hand bandaged, burning the acceptance letter.
Perhaps professional therapists had helped Lu Yin during the past four years, but she didn’t know the details of Lu Yin’s recovery, her return to the art world.
She wouldn’t pry. It would be disrespectful.
She looked out the window, opening it slightly for some fresh air.
The rain continued, but it was lighter now.
“Has it stopped raining?” Lu Yin asked, joining her at the window.
“Still raining,” Lin Qianqian replied, turning to look at her. “Sister…”
Lu Yin looked at her. “What?”
I won’t leave again. Lin Qianqian thought, but didn’t say it aloud.
If given the chance, she wanted to tell Lu Yin how she felt, instead of hiding her emotions, her desires, behind a mask of playful banter.
“I’m a little cold. This jacket is thin,” she complained instead.
“Then why did you open the window?” Lu Yin asked, zipping up her jacket, the cool metal brushing against her chin.
“It was stuffy,” Lin Qianqian mumbled, watching Lu Yin turn off the computer, grab her bag and umbrella.
They left the office, nodding at a passing student.
Lu Yin opened a black umbrella, holding it over Lin Qianqian’s head.
“Sister, I’ll carry your bag,” Lin Qianqian offered, taking the bag from Lu Yin’s shoulder.
It was a small umbrella, barely enough space for two. Lin Qianqian looped her arm through Lu Yin’s, and they stepped out into the rain.
“Are you cold?” Lin Qianqian asked, her breath misting in the cool air.
She was wearing Lu Yin’s jacket. Lu Yin was only wearing a thin white shirt, the sleeves stained with paint.
Lin Qianqian wrapped her arms around Lu Yin’s waist, trying to share her warmth.
Their shadows stretched long and distorted under the dim streetlights. Lin Qianqian struggled to keep up with Lu Yin’s long strides.
“Slow down!” she complained, but Lu Yin walked even faster.
“You’re doing this on purpose!” Lin Qianqian said, breaking into a jog.
The parking garage wasn’t far. The rain had almost stopped by the time they arrived.
Lin Qianqian ran ahead, playfully stepping on Lu Yin’s shadow.
She turned around, grinning, and saw Lu Yin smiling too.
It felt like years ago, when Lu Yin would pick her up from school in the rain.
She remembered that scene vividly.
The memory merged with the present, like a slow-motion scene in a movie, the world quiet except for the gentle patter of rain.
The evening breeze stirred Lu Yin’s hair, her eyes soft in the dim light, the image imprinted on Lin Qianqian’s heart.
This was where their story should continue, picking up where they had left off, like reconnecting two severed threads.
Like untangling a neatly wound ball of yarn.
But neither of them would give in, their stubbornness tightening the knot, their past intertwining with their present, their future uncertain.
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