It took two phone calls before Situ Jue finally coaxed Xiao Gen out of his dorm room, where he’d been holed up for an entire day. The two of them sat side by side on a bench by the fish pond near the boys’ dorms. Situ Jue had originally planned to give him a proper tongue-lashing, to chase every last bit of muddled foolishness right out of his head. Cry your heart out over a broken heart, or go get properly drunk with a friend, let it all out, and then get up and get on with your life — that’s what a real man was supposed to do. But instead, he’d gone and thrown away his entire future with his own hands. And it wasn’t even really heartbreak, since there’d never actually been anything between them to begin with, let alone anything to end — ending up in a situation like this over nothing at all was simply not worth it.
But when she actually saw Xiao Gen’s hair, dry and wilted like dead grass, his eyes completely dulled, all those furious words caught in her throat. In the end, all she could do was sit there and stare blankly at the carp swimming in the pond along with him, until finally she asked, “So what are you going to do now?”
Xiao Gen shook his head woodenly, as if he’d completely lost the capacity to think, and the sight only deepened Situ Jue’s worry. After a long while, he buried his face in his hands, head sunk between his knees, and mumbled, “I really just want to throw myself into this pond and drown. Otherwise how am I supposed to face my parents and family? They scrimped and saved to put me through four years of school, my younger siblings all went out to work instead, and I’m the only kid from the whole village who made it into a key university. I’m about to graduate, everyone’s watching — how am I supposed to tell them that my four-year degree is going to take five years?”
Situ Jue thought to herself that at least now he understood the seriousness of the consequences — and thankfully what he was anxious about now was his studies, finishing his degree properly, not Tan Shaocheng’s cold indifference toward him anymore. He hadn’t gone so far off the deep end that there was no saving him.
“Failing a required course make-up exam isn’t a small thing. You get anxious just being a little late to regular class — how did you dare to…”
“I really didn’t do it on purpose,” Xiao Gen said, on the verge of tears. “The night before the make-up exam I had a couple too many beers. I thought, since I’m nothing in her eyes anyway, since I have no ability at all, nothing I do matters anyway. The next day, when it was time for the exam, I was too out of it to get up. By the time the alcohol wore off, I broke out in a cold sweat, and by the time I rushed to the exam hall, everyone had already left. That’s when I knew — I was completely, thoroughly finished!”
Though Xiao Gen never once said exactly what Tan Shaocheng had said when she turned him down, and never spoke a bad word about her afterward either, Situ Jue could have guessed with her eyes closed that nothing kind had come out of Shaocheng’s mouth. She’d probably hit a wall with Wu Jiang and immediately turned around to take it out on someone else.
Don’t be fooled by how meek and submissive she usually seemed — people who’ve grown used to feeling small are often the very ones itching most to step on someone else the moment they get the chance. Situ Jue’s distaste for Tan Shaocheng deepened another notch, and whatever small sympathy she’d felt for her circumstances evaporated entirely. She found herself regretting having handed the scholarship money to Qiyun to quietly pass along to Tan Shaocheng once she was back at school.
But the biggest problem right now wasn’t stewing over her private grievances against someone — it was figuring out how Xiao Gen was going to get through this.
“Don’t panic yet, let’s think of something. The official notice about repeating the year hasn’t come down yet, so there’s still a chance,” she said, trying to encourage him.
“What chance is there? The department’s rules are set in stone, there’s nothing I can do. Situ, you’re more resourceful than me — is there really any room to maneuver here?”
Situ Jue thought about it for a long moment, then finally gritted her teeth. “I’ll try. I won’t feel right unless I at least try.”
Watching the last flicker of hope reignite in Xiao Gen’s ashen eyes, she realized in that instant that her “I’ll try” had become the only lifeline this normally timid boy — who’d taken one reckless leap and landed himself in disaster — had left to grab onto. If Qiyun had been there, he might well have scolded her for handing someone false hope without any real certainty of success. But Xiao Gen was her friend, and this whole mess was tangled up with that idiot Wu Jiang too — a slim hope was still better than none.
After forcing a listless Xiao Gen to eat something in the cafeteria, Situ Jue met up with Wu Jiang, who was just as anxious as she was, pacing like an ant on a hot skillet. In Wu Jiang’s own words, he’d lived more than twenty years without ever doing anything truly rotten, and this time, blinded by his own foolishness, he’d egged Xiao Gen on to confess to Tan Shaocheng — the very same woman who’d just turned Wu Jiang down herself — and look what it had led to. He said he could barely look himself in the mirror at night anymore, felt like his own conscience had gone thoroughly rotten. Thinking of Xiao Gen’s likely fate of repeating the year, he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep.
The two of them immediately put their heads together to plan a strategy. Situ Jue was on good terms with the senior in charge of exam invigilation in the pharmacy department, the teaching secretary who compiled grades, and several professors she could speak to directly. But when she called each of them, one after another gave more or less the same answer: if Xiao Gen had actually shown up for the exam and simply fallen a few points short of passing, there might have been some quiet way to smooth things over. But he hadn’t even appeared in the exam hall at all — and since the make-up exam had been taken by other students in the department who’d all witnessed his absence, there was no way anyone could fabricate a test paper and a grade out of thin air for him, no matter how much nerve they had. The department had, in fact, just held a meeting emphasizing the need to tighten up academic discipline.
Situ Jue pleaded desperately with the newly appointed teaching secretary — a senior who’d just stayed on at the school after graduating — but all he could offer, shaking his head with a sigh, was one word: difficult! Unless Vice Dean Zou, who oversaw teaching affairs, was willing to make an exception and grant Xiao Gen one more chance at a retest, he was basically guaranteed to end up repeating his fifth year. And everyone knew what kind of person “King Zou of the Underworld” was — other matters aside, when it came to academics and teaching, he wouldn’t tolerate the slightest compromise.
The teaching secretary had probably only said all this to make Situ Jue give up the idea entirely — but instead, that one narrow remaining path was exactly where Situ Jue caught the scent of a possible way through. Wu Jiang had already sworn up and down that getting a medical certificate from the hospital where his mother worked would be no problem at all — they’d simply say Xiao Gen had fallen suddenly ill on the day of the exam, which was why he’d missed it. The whole thing hinged entirely on whether Dean Zou would accept it.
“Hey, isn’t your dear ‘Xiaowan’ Zou’s star student? What are you waiting for — go beg her to put in a good word with her mentor. I think this could actually work!” Situ Jue said to Wu Jiang, excited.
“Ugh, let me tell you — it won’t work!” Wu Jiang was nowhere near as optimistic as she was. “Don’t think I’m that slow — I already brought it up with her first thing. Forget the fact that she barely even knows Xiao Gen — even for my sake, you know her temperament, do you really think she’s the type to do something like that? She shut me down flat. I don’t even know what’s gotten into her lately — she used to treat her mentor like some kind of guiding light, and now you can’t even bring him up without setting off a whole hornet’s nest.”
“What kind of girlfriend did you even pick? Sounds to me like you picked a statue of Buddha — clay-molded, only accepts incense offerings, doesn’t touch worldly affairs, and definitely isn’t going to open her mouth and speak up for anyone.” Situ Jue had always found it amusing, the way Wu Jiang doted on Qu Xiaowan, indulging her every whim and swallowing every grievance — after all, it takes two willing parties for that kind of dynamic. But at a moment like this, with Qu Xiaowan unwilling to even lift a finger to help, turning a blind eye even as Wu Jiang was in such a state, Situ Jue, as a bystander, couldn’t help but have a few things to say about it.
Wu Jiang answered, a little embarrassed, “Well, it’s not really her business, after all. It’s kind of her to consider helping, but it’s understandable if she doesn’t want to…”
“Save that excuse for fooling yourself. Fine, it’s not Xiao Gen’s business to her — but from where I’m standing, she doesn’t seem all that invested in you either,” Situ Jue snapped back, frustrated.
Wu Jiang opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The two of them fell silent for a while, until Wu Jiang finally, with some difficulty, ventured, “It seems like Zou Jin thinks pretty highly of you — weren’t you planning to apply for his graduate program anyway? What if… Situ… what if you tried talking to him yourself?” Even as he said it, he seemed to realize how much he was asking, rubbing his hands together awkwardly. “Either way, I feel like Xiao Gen ending up like this is on me. If I could get through to Zou Jin myself, I’d have already gone…”
Situ Jue stared at him fixedly for a few seconds, then jabbed a finger at his nose and scolded, “How did I ever end up with a friend like you!”
She said it as a scolding, but deep down, Situ Jue understood perfectly well that Wu Jiang had genuinely run out of options. What were good friends for, if not to step up and take the hit when it really mattered? In Situ Jue’s book, lovers were like flesh and bone, friends were like clothing — flesh and bone couldn’t be replaced, but a person couldn’t very well go through life stark naked either.
Honestly, though, friends came in degrees of closeness too. If Xiao Gen’s situation hadn’t been tangled up with Wu Jiang at all, Situ Jue helping this much already would have counted as doing everything humanly possible and leaving the rest to fate. But this particular disaster was inescapably tied to Wu Jiang — and who was Wu Jiang, if not the one piece of “clothing” Situ Jue had worn, warm and close, since childhood? For as long as she could remember, every time she’d clashed with her parents, hadn’t Wu Jiang always been her refuge? Whenever he had something good, had he ever once forgotten her? In an emergency, aside from Qiyun, wasn’t Wu Jiang absolutely the first person she’d think to turn to? So many things she couldn’t share even with Qiyun, Wu Jiang was her confidant for those too. She thought, if their positions were reversed, she’d do exactly the same for him — because she knew that no matter how unreliable everyone else might be, Wu Jiang, at least, would always be on her side.
Over the next two days, Situ Jue found excuse after excuse to loiter near Zou Jin’s office, hoping for a chance to privately ask him for leniency. But Zou Jin’s office door stayed firmly shut day after day, and she couldn’t even catch a glimpse of him at the department office. After asking around, she learned he was out of town on a work trip. It was then that Situ Jue connected it to something the whole pharmacy department — the whole university, really — had been buzzing about lately: the microbiology and biochemistry lab Zou Jin headed had achieved a major breakthrough in scientific research, not only filling a domestic gap in the field but placing squarely at the international forefront as well. As a result, he’d been showered with honors and recognition at every level, and the whole pharmacy department felt proud by association. Now conference after conference and award ceremony after award ceremony requiring his personal attendance had piled up one after another; already a famously busy man, he now had even less time to spare.
Situ Jue’s heart sank. According to word circulating from the department office, the official notice about Xiao Gen repeating the year would likely be issued formally within the next few days — after which the matter would be settled, with no way to undo it. She had no choice but to swallow her pride and call the cell phone number for Zou Jin she’d secretly copied down.
It took several tries before the call finally went through. Zou Jin sounded quite surprised to hear Situ Jue’s voice, and once he understood why she was calling, his tone remained mild, but he made his refusal clear over the phone.
Zou Jin said that regardless of the reason behind Xiao Gen’s absence from the make-up exam, the fact was already fixed — if he made an exception for Xiao Gen, it would be unfair to every other student who’d repeated a year or faced the same fate this year. He could only say he was sorry.
“Dean Zou, please reconsider. He really did miss the exam because he suddenly fell ill — I have a doctor’s certificate right here. Whenever you get back, I can bring it to show you.” Situ Jue, of course, knew perfectly well that the so-called hospital certificate was just a front — but she remembered what her mother had taught her about how to handle these things: when you need something from someone, you have to let them see your sincerity, and a face-to-face meeting was key. Never expect a single phone call to get you what you want, because a phone line makes it much too easy for someone to say no.
Zou Jin said over the phone, “But I’ve been quite busy lately.”
Her mother had also told her that this kind of phrase usually meant nothing more than a polite brush-off.
Across the nearly thousand-mile distance between them, Situ Jue couldn’t help but feel a flash of awkwardness. It seemed that not just Wu Jiang and Xiao Gen, but she herself, had overestimated her own importance — Professor Zou had certainly been courteous to her in the past, but that might simply have been basic manners on his part, and thinking she could leverage that good impression as some kind of bargaining chip now suddenly felt naive, almost laughable.
She hurriedly wrapped things up with a few closing pleasantries, ready to hang up quickly — but Zou Jin added something before she could. “There’ve been so many conferences lately. Tell you what — I’m in Dalian right now, and tomorrow I have to rush to Changchun for a very important event, so I won’t be able to get away anytime soon. But before I leave, I have some important materials at home I need to sort through myself, so I’ll be flying back tonight briefly, then taking the earliest flight to Changchun tomorrow morning. I should be home around seven or so tonight. I really can’t spare much more time for anything else, but if you don’t mind, once I land, get in touch and we can meet somewhere near my place — you can show me that certificate then.”
Zou Jin lived off-campus, and hearing “meet near my place,” Situ Jue couldn’t help hesitating a little. Zou Jin seemed to sense her hesitation on the other end of the line too, and gave a small chuckle.
“Don’t worry, I’m not the type of ‘professor’ who casually invites female students back to his place. It’s just that time is genuinely tight — if you’re willing, we can find somewhere nearby to sit down, and you can explain the whole situation to me in detail. I’ll decide once I’m back.”
Caught out, Situ Jue felt her face flush, immediately ashamed of her own “petty suspicions.” She asked for Zou Jin’s address; he seemed to be busy on his end too, and the call ended quickly.
That evening, before heading out, Yao Qiyun still hadn’t returned from the hospital where he was doing his clinical rotation. Situ Jue had thought about calling him to explain, but remembering that he didn’t think much of Zou Jin’s character, and that going to Zou Jin for this favor was genuinely something she felt she had no choice about, she figured it was better not to stir up unnecessary trouble — she pulled her phone back out and dropped it back into her bag.
She told her mother she was going to hang out at Wu Jiang’s place; her mother said nothing more about it — when it came to Situ Jue spending time with Wu Jiang, her mother had always been tolerant, even openly approving.
Zou Jin lived in one of the city’s well-known wealthy enclaves. Following the address he’d given her, Situ Jue easily found the white standalone house tucked away among the trees. Situ Jue herself had grown up in a wealthy family, but for some reason she’d always held onto the faintly amusing assumption that people in research tended to live rather modestly — not that she looked down on that kind of modesty, which was exactly why she felt a small jolt of surprise seeing Zou Jin’s clearly prime, clearly expensive private residence.
The sky had just started to darken as Zou Jin’s plane landed and he made his way home. Situ Jue wasn’t in a rush; she wandered around the house for a bit. The neatly spaced trees and hedges looked lush at first glance, though clearly they’d been carefully maintained; the modest front lawn was tidy, tastefully arranged — very much to Situ Jue’s liking. Her own family’s house sat on prime real estate in the old part of the city, plenty grand, but somehow lacking this kind of quiet charm. She’d always assumed houses like this only existed in middle-class neighborhoods abroad.
She was standing there, chin tilted up, absorbed in taking it all in like a fool, until the sound of tires approaching startled her into turning around — and there was Zou Jin’s car, arriving sooner than she’d expected.
Zou Jin rolled down his window and smiled at Situ Jue, pulling the car over to the side. “I suppose, out of basic courtesy, I should ask — Miss Situ, would you like to come in and sit down for a cup of tea?”
Situ Jue quickly shook her head. “I won’t impose on you, Dean… Professor Zou.”
She never seemed to know whether to call him Professor Zou or Dean Zou. Zou Jin laughed again, though Situ Jue had no idea what was so amusing about that particular slip that it kept making the underworld king smile.
“This is the hospital certificate for Wei Yougen’s acute shingles diagnosis — please take a look, Dean Zou. Please, just give him one chance, let him graduate properly. He’s normally very hardworking, and his whole family is counting on him — it hasn’t been easy for him. Missing the exam was just an accident, it won’t happen again.”
Zou Jin took the certificate — Wu Jiang’s “masterpiece” — and gave it a cursory glance, then rubbed his forehead. “I’m exhausted, really can’t keep up with you young people anymore. Let’s talk in the yard.”
Only then did Situ Jue notice he had a suitcase in one hand and a coat draped over his wrist; despite maintaining his usual composure, exhaustion was clearly written across his face. She silently cursed herself for being too impatient, and could only nod along.
There was a set of white-painted patio furniture on the lawn. Situ Jue eagerly moved to carry Zou Jin’s bag for him, but he declined with a smile. The two of them sat down in the chairs; Zou Jin set his things down and let out a long, heavy breath.
“Dean Zou, you’re a huge celebrity these days — I heard about the award you just won. Everyone’s calling you the pride of the pharmacy school, someone we should all aspire to be like.” Situ Jue’s words dripped with honey, picking out whatever sounded best — though, in her own view, she was simply telling the truth.
“Is that so?” The corner of Zou Jin’s mouth lifted only slightly. “Situ Jue, does that ‘everyone’ you mentioned include you?”
“Of course!” Situ Jue said, her expression the picture of sincerity. “But I know reaching the heights you have isn’t easy.”
“But falling from such heights is very easy.” Zou Jin, who by all rights should have been riding high on recent success, showed little joy on his face — only weariness and a trace of helplessness. “Honor is a wonderful thing. Producing real results is the lifelong dream of people like us. But the moment anything touches on interests and stakes, a lot of unpleasant things come along with it.”
Situ Jue stared blankly at this middle-aged professor, seemingly at the height of fame, fortune, and accomplishment, burning as brightly as fire fed with oil. She had no idea why he’d suddenly become so reflective, but judging by his expression, it didn’t seem like an act.
Zou Jin absently fiddled with Xiao Gen’s “hospital certificate,” then suddenly asked, “Situ Jue, what kind of person do you think I am?”
“What?” The question was so abrupt and strange that Situ Jue, caught completely off guard, blurted out her honest first thought after a startled pause. “I haven’t really thought about it much — you’re just a teacher I respect deeply, someone I admire academically.” She thought a moment, then added, a little sheepishly, “Though a lot of people say you can be a little strict. Just a little!”
Zou Jin laughed. “I suspect it’s more than a little.” His smile slowly took on a self-mocking edge. “Honestly, I’m not very good at navigating people, never learned how to be smooth about things. Outside of academics, I tend to be far too casual — in a way, I think I’m something of a failure, because I lack sufficient rationality.”
“Nobody’s perfect, Professor. I think you’re already quite impressive as it is — true, complete rationality is something only sages could manage, and sages are very lonely people,” Situ Jue said.
“My wife once declared that a personality like mine wasn’t suited for coming back to develop a career here. I didn’t listen to her at the time — but now I’m starting to think she was right.”
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you mention your wife.” Situ Jue’s curiosity got the better of her; everyone knew Zou Jin was married, but who exactly his other half was remained a mystery even to his own students.
Zou Jin said, “My wife is a woman very much worth admiring.” He then gave Situ Jue a name, and her eyes went wide — it was a name well known among pharmacy students, someone whose research achievements and academic standing were on par with, if not above, Zou Jin’s own. Situ Jue had only known she was living in the U.S., without ever connecting her to Zou Jin.
“She’s given me a great deal of help — she’s like a mentor and a friend in my life, and in front of her, I always feel like an error-prone schoolboy, involuntarily bowing my head. That’s why I insisted on coming back to develop my career here — not in the same galaxy, far from the sun, maybe that way I won’t feel quite so dim by comparison,” Zou Jin said, making light of it himself.
For reasons she couldn’t quite name, hearing someone speak so admiringly and formally about his own spouse struck Situ Jue as somehow strange. Maybe, she thought, that was a higher kind of union she simply couldn’t understand — like Beauvoir and Sartre, like certain famous couples in the arts. Either way, she knew she’d never be capable of that kind of relationship — she and Yao Qiyun, even if they melted into each other, would still want to be the two planets closest together in the universe.
“My wife believes I was bound to hit obstacles working here, and I wanted to prove her wrong. At first I was full of ambition, wanting to make a real mark — only later did I realize the academic world wasn’t at all what I’d imagined. I can’t stand the laziness and empty formalities, and yet even the students I handpicked so carefully can’t escape those same patterns. They think I’m harsh — maybe it’s just that our values differ. As for my colleagues… better not to say. I often feel like a soldier trudging through a swamp in heavy armor.” At this point, Zou Jin seemed to realize he’d said too much, and shook his head with a laugh. “Look at me, going on like this to you. You’re a very innocent kid, and it’s good that you stay that way — just think of it as listening to a middle-aged man vent… As for this student you mentioned, surnamed Wei…”
Situ Jue quickly steered the conversation back to what mattered most to her. “Wei Yougen! Professor Zou, please, I’m begging you, let him retake it.”
Zou Jin pushed the “hospital certificate” back toward Situ Jue with one finger. “If he’s facing having to repeat the year, that means this would be the third time he’s failed the make-up exam. From where I stand, another year wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing for him. The pharmaceutical field is different from other fields — a practitioner’s mistakes can lead to unpredictable, serious consequences, so I want every graduating student to be genuinely competent.”
“If you give him just one more chance at the exam, and he still fails, then repeating the year would be fair — just one chance, Professor Zou!”
Faced with Situ Jue’s pleading, Zou Jin asked flatly, “This is his situation — why hasn’t he come to see me himself, instead of sending you? Even with shingles, it shouldn’t affect his ability to make a phone call or send an email.”
Situ Jue was momentarily at a loss for words — she could hardly explain that, knowing Xiao Gen’s timid personality and his fear of Zou Jin, he’d sooner accept repeating the year outright than come beg Zou Jin in person. Unable to find a good excuse, she decided to be blunt instead. “It’s not his fault — I offered to come on his behalf. But Professor Zou, if Wei Yougen came to beg you himself, would you actually say yes?”
“He’s lucky to have a friend like you.” Zou Jin raised an eyebrow, speaking slowly and deliberately. “Whether it’s him, or you yourself, pinning your hopes on you was the right call either way. You know it’s hard for me to say no to you.”
Before Situ Jue could react, Zou Jin’s hand had already settled over hers, resting flat on the wooden table — a light pat, as if in approval, though the pressure of it lingered, almost like a caress.
Situ Jue’s mind went completely blank; she yanked her hand back like lightning, and as she shot up from her seat, nearly knocked over the chair behind her. All the whispered rumors about Zou Jin she’d ever heard came flooding back in an instant.
She’d never believed them. She’d always respected him so much.
“Professor Zou, you—”
Zou Jin himself seemed not to have expected such an intense reaction; there was a flicker of awkwardness as he withdrew his hand, but he quickly composed himself.
“Did I scare you? Sit back down.”
Situ Jue didn’t comply. She stepped back, though she didn’t immediately turn to leave.
“I came here for Xiao Gen’s sake, Professor Zou. If you’re willing to help him, I’ll be grateful to you on his behalf. If you refuse, I’ll simply have to tell him I did everything I could.”
“I said, sit down first. There’s no need to see me as something so frightening. Yes, I admit I’m fond of young, lovely girls — it makes me feel, in some way, as though I still possess a bit of that youthful, unspoiled energy myself. Situ Jue, I do genuinely like you, and I suspect you’re not entirely unaware of that — I’m not particularly skilled at hiding these things, perhaps that’s a weakness of mine. But honestly, I’m not short of women, and I’m well past the age of feeling like I have to devour every beautiful thing I see the moment I see it.”
“I’ve always seen you as the teacher I admire most!”
“You can go on seeing me that way — the two aren’t in conflict.” Zou Jin stood up too, moving to approach her; Situ Jue stepped back again.
“I’ve seen the list for the graduate admissions in the department. You want to be my graduate student — that’s wonderful. You’d be my final student, and with your intelligence, if you’re willing, you might one day stand even higher than I do. I wouldn’t mind being your stepping stone. You wouldn’t even need to give me anything in return… You don’t believe me? Think of it like the stars in the sky — you can admire them without needing to pluck them down.”
“Professor, you really do have a lot of metaphors, and quite entertaining ones too. So this is why you stay far from the sun — so you can look up at the stars, and I’m guessing your sky must be absolutely full of them!” Situ Jue said coldly, mercilessly mocking the very man she’d revered like a god just minutes earlier. He came crashing down off the pedestal she’d built for him in her mind, shattering into dust and rubble. In that moment, Situ Jue found herself genuinely saddened — not over anything else, but over her own foolish faith in something. Even Qiyun had told her to keep her distance from Zou Jin, and she’d insisted it was just gossip, insisted on believing that something flawless and perfect could actually exist.
Just then, the lights inside the house switched on. The sudden brightness, so close at hand, felt like a single spark of light rising out of chaos, illuminating all manner of unbearable things, leaving nothing hidden. Situ Jue hadn’t expected anyone to be inside the house — and judging by the confusion and shock plainly written across Zou Jin’s face too, neither had he.
Accompanied by the sound of hurried footsteps, the front door, which had remained firmly shut the whole time, opened from the inside.
“I didn’t even realize you were back — I waited so long I fell asleep…”
That voice, achingly familiar, soft and clear.
Situ Jue stood frozen in the yard like a stone statue. She thought she must be caught in some bizarre, surreal nightmare. Though this dream held no real fear, it was filled with a kind of filth far beyond anything she could have imagined.
The person behind the door had frozen too, still standing there with the door half open.
Dead silence. As if any word spoken now would be a spark set to a fuse coiled like a venomous snake.
“So this is the real reason you’ve been keeping your distance from me?” The first voice to break the silence was thick with desolation.
Zou Jin said quietly, “It’s not that. Don’t think that.”
But Situ Jue had already woken from her dream. She stared at the other girl and could only manage one question, dazed: “Why? Wu Jiang is so good to you.”
Qu Xiaowan didn’t so much as acknowledge Situ Jue’s words. Her eyes were locked, unblinking, on Zou Jin.
“She and I…” Zou Jin turned toward Situ Jue, defeated. Situ Jue snatched the “hospital certificate” off the table and turned to walk away.
“This has nothing to do with me.”
Situ Jue rushed out of the small courtyard, and as she reached the edge of the tree-shadowed path on either side, she suddenly heard the rustle of leaves and branches.
“Who’s there?”
She wondered for a moment if she’d imagined it. Night had crept in unnoticed, and behind the shadows beyond the streetlight’s reach lay a thick tangle of shrubs. Very quickly, all sound from that direction fell silent.