Chapter 39
In the darkness, Lu Yin saw the amusement in Lin Qianqian’s eyes, her own vulnerability being exploited. Lin Qianqian leaned closer, her hand pressing harder against Lu Yin’s thigh.
Lu Yin looked at her, her expression unchanged. She pressed her fingers against the soft cotton, the cool tips quickly becoming damp.
Lin Qianqian’s hand moved to Lu Yin’s arm, her eyes fluttering closed, her foot instinctively nudging Lu Yin’s leg.
“What?” Lu Yin asked, her voice cool.
Lin Qianqian flinched, her eyes half-open, unable to see Lu Yin’s face clearly in the darkness.
It felt like a dream, a hazy, surreal experience.
She tugged at Lu Yin’s sleeve, her movements slow and languid, like someone drunk.
Lu Yin knew her weaknesses, knew she hadn’t changed.
Within minutes, Lin Qianqian’s grip tightened on the fabric, her hand clenching into a fist.
Lu Yin got out of bed and went to the bathroom, returning a few moments later.
Lin Qianqian hugged the duvet, then, as Lu Yin lay back down, snuggled into her arms.
Her hand touched Lu Yin’s skin, and she shivered. “Sister, your hands are cold.”
“I just washed them,” Lu Yin said, trying to avoid touching her, but Lin Qianqian took her hand.
“I’ll warm them up for you,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the duvet.
Lu Yin knew she was tired.
It had been a long day for Lin Qianqian, the emotional rollercoaster of the hospital visit followed by her tearful confession.
And Lu Yin wasn’t in a hurry.
She had fulfilled Lin Qianqian’s birthday wish. She had done what Lin Qianqian had asked.
The rest could wait.
Lin Qianqian woke up several times during the night, her body seeking Lu Yin’s warmth, her arms tightening around her. “Sister, don’t go…” she mumbled.
“I’m not going,” Lu Yin would reply, her sleep interrupted by Lin Qianqian’s movements, her words barely audible.
Only after Lin Qianqian had fallen back asleep did Lu Yin close her eyes.
On Monday morning, Lu Yin drove Lin Qianqian to work, watching her cling to her hand, reluctant to leave.
“Why don’t you have classes today…?” Lin Qianqian grumbled. “It’s not fair.”
“Go inside. I’ll pick you up later,” Lu Yin said, her hand still held captive.
“I wish I could suddenly become rich. I forgot to wish for that yesterday,” Lin Qianqian said, regretting her missed opportunity. “Maybe it would have come true?”
Seeing Xu Sui approaching, she quickly released Lu Yin’s hand. “I’m going!”
Avoiding the homeroom teacher in school, avoiding the boss at work. Lin Qianqian’s eternal struggle.
Lu Yin nodded politely at Xu Sui, exchanging no further words.
Everyone was busy with their own lives, their own work. It was a comfortable, undemanding existence.
Back at the apartment, Lu Yin noticed Lin Qianqian’s presence everywhere.
The spare room, now occupied. The bathroom walls decorated with cute deer stickers.
Half-eaten snacks, sealed with hair clips, on the coffee table. Lin Qianqian’s hat and bag hanging on the coat rack.
And in her car, the deer antler hair clips on the passenger seatbelt, replacing the ones her students had given her.
Lin Qianqian had woven herself into the fabric of Lu Yin’s life, filling every empty space.
Lu Yin stood in the loft, looking at the painting, the figure no longer seeming menacing, its smile no longer mocking.
It was just a painting now.
She wouldn’t add any more details, any more life, to it. Her hope, her inspiration, was no longer confined to a canvas. It was here, beside her, in the form of Lin Qianqian.
But she still wanted Lin Qianqian to see the painting, to know that during those four years apart, she had missed her, had longed for her.
She wouldn’t burden Lin Qianqian with her own pain, her own struggles. She just wanted Lin Qianqian to know the truth about her unspoken feelings.
But first, she had to show Lin Qianqian her true self.
Even if that true self was fading away.
The following Monday, an unexpected patient arrived at Zhong Shiwu’s clinic.
Lu Yin.
Zhong Shiwu sat in silence for a moment, then asked, “Can you tell me what prompted this sudden desire for a follow-up appointment?”
“Isn’t recovery every patient’s goal?”
Zhong Shiwu looked at her, her smile unreadable.
She gave Lu Yin a questionnaire and scheduled an EEG.
Half an hour later, she began the consultation.
“Have you been taking your medication as prescribed?” she asked, her eyes scanning the questionnaire, a flicker of surprise in her gaze.
“I…” Lu Yin hesitated.
She had forgotten about the medication.
Since Lin Qianqian’s return, she had initially relied on the remaining pills to control her emotions.
Then, when the bottle was empty, she had forced herself to endure the emotional turmoil.
And now, she no longer needed the medication.
Her moods had stabilized, the nightmares less frequent.
“It seems you haven’t been following my instructions,” Zhong Shiwu sighed. “But your condition has improved. You can stop taking the medication for now, but keep it on hand, just in case…”
She paused, deciding not to elaborate.
As a doctor, she could only offer a professional assessment.
Lu Yin’s condition was still uncertain. A relapse was always possible.
“What are your plans now?” she asked, putting the questionnaire away. “Teacher Lu, I’m asking as a friend, not as your doctor. It would be unethical for me to pry into your personal life.”
“I’m planning to visit my mother’s grave,” Lu Yin said.
Zhong Shiwu’s smile faded, her expression turning serious. “Do you want me to come with you?”
Lu Yin shook her head. “I have some things to say to her…alone.”
“Then…” Zhong Shiwu paused. “Bring her some irises. They were her favorite.”
Zhong Shiwu seemed to understand Lu Yin’s unspoken thoughts.
She leaned forward, her hands clasped together. “Open your heart, embrace your love. Do what you want.”
She wanted to say, Don’t make the same mistakes again, but it wasn’t the right time.
“Lu Yin,” she said softly, “you’re the most remarkable person I know.”
Lu Yin smiled faintly. “Are you afraid I’ll revert back to my previous state?”
“Is it that obvious?” Zhong Shiwu admitted readily. “I am concerned, but it’s also for Lu Sui. I feel responsible.”
Lu Yin knew she was trying to reassure her, to alleviate her guilt. As she stood up to leave, she said sincerely, “Thank you, Dr. Zhong. Talking to you always makes me feel better.”
Zhong Shiwu didn’t stand up. “If our next meeting is at a cafe, not in my clinic, I’ll feel better too.”
The drive to Lin Qianqian’s office took an hour.
Even though Lin Qianqian’s work hours avoided rush hour, Lu Yin had left during peak traffic.
When she arrived, Lin Qianqian was standing outside the building, her arms crossed, shivering in the evening chill.
Seeing Lu Yin’s car, she turned her head away, refusing to acknowledge her.
She was clearly sulking, like a child whose parent was the last to arrive at pickup.
Lu Yin parked, retrieved a jacket and scarf, and walked over to her.
“Are you cold?” she asked, helping Lin Qianqian put on the jacket. Lin Qianqian dodged the scarf.
“No scarf?” Lu Yin asked, folding the scarf and draping it over her arm.
“Why are you smiling?” Lin Qianqian asked, showing her the timer on her phone. “You’re ten minutes and thirty-four seconds late. Almost eleven minutes now.”
“Traffic,” Lu Yin said, taking her hand and leading her towards the car. “Your hands are cold.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Lin Qianqian muttered.
She had grown accustomed to Lu Yin picking her up from work.
Lu Yin’s two-month teaching term had ended, and she was now free from her teaching responsibilities, her days filled with administrative tasks at the institution.
But she wasn’t in charge of admissions, and most of the teachers were hired on a contract basis. Once the training courses ended, she had very little to do.
During these idle periods, Zhong Shiwu, worried about Lu Yin’s mental state, would often take her sketching.
But now, Lu Yin’s time was occupied by Lin Qianqian, her days revolving around Lin Qianqian’s needs and whims.
Back at the apartment, a beautifully wrapped box sat on the coffee table.
Lin Qianqian looked at Lu Yin, picked up the box, and held it in her arms. “What’s this?”
“A gift,” Lu Yin replied.
Lin Qianqian opened it without hesitation, revealing a dark brown picture frame with intricate carvings.
“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, showing it to Lu Yin. “Sister!”
Lu Yin looked up, remembering Zhong Shiwu mentioning the frame had been delivered.
She had shipped all her belongings home, planning to unpack and organize everything later. She had signed for the package this morning without really looking at it.
She glanced at the frame, seeing nothing unusual in Lin Qianqian’s expression. “Put it away,” she said.
“Where?” Lin Qianqian asked. “It’s too beautiful to just put away. We should frame a picture and hang it up.”
Lu Yin thought for a moment. “Put it by the window in the loft. I’ll organize everything later.”
“Okay,” Lin Qianqian said, carrying the frame upstairs.
The area by the window was cluttered with various items. Lin Qianqian was hesitant to move anything, afraid of disrupting Lu Yin’s system.
And she didn’t want to just leave the beautiful frame there, so she looked around for a suitable place.
There was space inside the cabinet, alongside Lu Yin’s awards and trophies, but it was locked. She tried the lock, but it wouldn’t open.
Her gaze fell on the empty wall, the hook still there.
She touched it. It was clean, free of dust.
If Lu Yin hadn’t mentioned hanging a new painting there, she would have assumed it was being used regularly.
Lin Qianqian paused, then hung the frame on the hook.
Her eyes widened. It fit perfectly, the hook securely holding the frame, as if custom-made.
She tried to remove it, curious about how it was attached, her fingers exploring the narrow gap between the frame and the hook.
Her fingertip brushed against something sharp, and she winced, pulling her hand back, a small bead of blood welling up.
Hearing footsteps, she turned around and saw Lu Yin. “Look at this hook! It almost impaled me!” she complained, showing Lu Yin her injured finger.
Lu Yin walked over, removed the frame, and touched the hook, her fingertip smudged with blood.
“I’m going to remove this hook!” Lin Qianqian declared, then, seeing Lu Yin’s silence, looked at her.
Lu Yin’s gaze was intense, her expression unreadable.
“Why aren’t you saying anything? It almost impaled me! I’m bleeding…” Lin Qianqian poked Lu Yin’s arm with her injured finger. “It hurts.”
Lu Yin finally reacted, taking her finger and gently sucking on it. “It won’t hurt you,” she said softly.
Lin Qianqian was confused, sensing the heaviness in Lu Yin’s gaze. “Of course it won’t hurt me…I was just…you know…exaggerating…”
Lu Yin knelt down, opened the locked cabinet, placed the frame inside, and locked it again.
Less than a minute.
Lin Qianqian sensed something was wrong. “Sister…”
Lu Yin took a deep breath, then smiled. “What?”
“What’s wrong?” Lin Qianqian asked. “What are you thinking about?”
Lu Yin didn’t answer, pulling Lin Qianqian into her arms, her hand stroking Lin Qianqian’s hair, her touch almost possessive.
The empty frame won’t trap Lin Qianqian. It won’t…
And she won’t be replaced by the figure in my dreams. She won’t…
I’ll lock it all away. Then everything will be fine.
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