After My Death, Everyone Repented (Transmigration) - Chapter 68

After leaving Chi Yi’s home, the two walked side by side out of the villa district.

Across the street was a private school.

Chi Yi said that if they circled around the school’s back gate, Century Golden Resources Mall wouldn’t be far, and asked Xie Shaojun if she wanted to eat cake.

It was snowing outside, heavier and heavier. Chi Yi wasn’t wearing gloves today, and her palms no longer held the warmth from indoors.

Xie Shaojun thought for a moment and said no.

“Why?”

Red velvet cake was Xie Shaojun’s favorite, but only the one made at the bakery in North City.

Chi Yi stood in front of Xie Shaojun, studying her for a while.

She seemed stubbornly determined to buy Xie Shaojun cake.

But her tone wasn’t forceful, she just said to Xie Shaojun, “I want to eat it. Xie Shaojun, come with me.”

Xie Shaojun met Chi Yi’s gaze for two seconds before finally relenting.

There was a convenience store to the left. Xie Shaojun told Chi Yi to wait, then went inside. A short while later, she came out holding a plastic bag.

Chi Yi really wanted to see what Xie Shaojun had bought, but Xie Shaojun didn’t volunteer the information.

Hand in hand, they walked toward the cake shop Chi Yi had visited not long ago the one with the endless line she had once fantasized about visiting with Xie Shaojun.

The distance wasn’t too far, less than two kilometers from the Chi residence. As they walked, snowflakes drifted down from the sky, landing on their clothes, hats, scarves, and their clasped hands.

The driver pulled up and asked if they wanted a ride. Chi Yi hesitated for a moment, then turned to Xie Shaojun for her opinion. “Do you want to take the car?”

Xie Shaojun countered, “What about you?”

“You’d listen to me?” Chi Yi laughed and asked. Xie Shaojun said she would.

So Chi Yi made the decision herself, turning to instruct the driver to follow them slowly.

Just as she turned back, she saw Xie Shaojun open the plastic bag, inside were a pair of gloves and an umbrella.

Chi Yi’s heart pounded violently at that moment.

The scent of Xie Shaojun surrounded her as she watched her take out the gloves, tear off the tags, and put one on Chi Yi before slipping the other onto herself.

Then, with her ungloved left hand, she took Chi Yi’s right hand and tucked it into the spacious pocket of her thick coat.

Bundled in their heavy winter clothes, they stood close, shoulder to shoulder. Chi Yi remained still for a long time, and when Xie Shaojun noticed, she turned back and asked, “Why aren’t you walking?”

Chi Yi stood rooted in place, gazing at her. With her gloved hand, she gently brushed the snowflakes from Xie Shaojun’s eyelashes.

Then she said, “Xie Shaojun, why did you stop eating cake on your birthday after that?”

Chi Yi lifted her face. The snow was falling harder now, covering her head, face, and shoulders. Though she was dressed warmly, her high heels sank into the snow, making it easy to slip.

“Didn’t feel like it.” Xie Shaojun glanced at Chi Yi, opened the umbrella, and motioned for her to step closer.

Chi Yi pressed against Xie Shaojun’s side, then suddenly rested her head on her shoulder and murmured, “Xie Shaojun.”

“Hmm?”

“After you left, I ate seven hundred and thirty-five cakes from that shop. But none of them were sweet.” She paused. “Could you eat one with me?”

Xie Shaojun’s eyes snapped open, meeting Chi Yi’s half-lidded gaze. After a beat, she said, “Okay.”

“Why seven hundred and thirty-five?”

“Seven hundred and thirty-five days.”

Chi Yi answered her while leaning in gently to kiss Xie Shaoyun’s chin, saying, “If only I had told you on your birthday two years ago that I wanted to share cake with you ”

“Then we wouldn’t have had to wait so long…” Chi Yi’s voice was tinged with regret.

On Minor New Year’s Day, Xie Shaoyun decided to give her staff an early holiday.

After sending out the notice in the group chat, her assistant handed her a stack of year-end reports in the afternoon.

Xie Shaoyun told the assistant to leave the reports on the desk and tossed her a red envelope.

“Me too?”

“Everyone gets one.” Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Xie Shaoyun bent down to open a drawer filled with about twenty prepared red envelopes.

She instructed the assistant to distribute them.

The assistant was beaming though the red envelopes weren’t the main draw. Their studio already had year-end bonuses and commissions.

Working under Xie Shaoyun throughout the year meant opportunities to participate in major exhibitions, so financial rewards were never in short supply.

The red envelopes were just a festive gesture. No other studio owner operated as loosely as Xie Shaoyun, neither overly strict nor excessively flashy.

Beyond the steady stream of logo design commissions, several artists in the studio could focus on projects they genuinely enjoyed.

The studio served as both a promotional platform and a hub for connecting artists with suitable work.

To Xie Shaoyun, this was more than enough first, to hone skills, and second, to nurture talent. A purely commercial studio would lose its essence.

They might not be raking in huge profits yet, but working under Xie Shaoyun meant truly learning the craft.

Touched but avoiding sentimental words, the assistant stepped out to brew Xie Shaoyun a cup of coffee before making the rounds to hand out the red envelopes.

Soon after, she returned to the office with a stack of red envelopes in hand, each one uniquely designed.

Spreading them out on Xie Shaoyun’s desk, the assistant introduced them one by one: “This one’s from Accountant Wang, Engineer Zhang, Teacher Li, and this is mine.”

Assuming it was a customary exchange of goodwill, Xie Shaoyun raised an eyebrow. “What’s this, a red envelope relay?”

As she gathered the envelopes to decline them, the assistant swiftly made her exit. Pausing at the door, she leaned against the wall, eyes crinkling with laughter. “Keep them, Teacher Xie. Everyone gets a New Year’s red envelope our little Teacher Xie should have one too.”

Xie Shaoyun was momentarily stunned. After the assistant left, she tapped open Chi Yi’s WeChat and asked, “Do you give your employees red envelopes for the New Year?”

“The company has year-end bonuses,” Chi Yi replied promptly, then added, “Why do you ask?”

Xie Shaoyun played it off casually, saying she was just curious about how big companies handled bonuses.

After chatting about other trivial matters, she feigned nonchalance and asked, “What about you? Do your parents or family give you New Year’s red envelopes?”

Chi Yi sent a question mark, then explained after a few seconds: After turning twelve, her father had set up education and entrepreneurial funds for her, those essentially served as her allowance.

They would have a family gathering in the UK on New Year’s Day, but during the actual Lunar New Year, her father usually attended business events. As a child, Chi Yi had spent more New Years with the housekeeper than with her parents.

Once she started working, no one gave her red envelopes anymore not that she needed them.

Xie Shaoyun said, “Got it.”

The assistant came to the office again to fetch some documents. Xie Shaoyun didn’t bring up returning the red envelope this time. Instead, she thanked the assistant.

In the afternoon, she ordered milk tea and desserts for twenty people. When the delivery arrived, Xie Shaoyun stepped out of her office and, with a smile, gave each employee in the studio individual New Year’s greetings.

She thought to herself, This is how people should interact exchanging New Year’s blessings and surprise gifts. Chi Yi probably rarely experienced this in her life. But now she has me. If others have it, she should too.

As the workday neared its end, Xie Shaoyun tapped open the chat window and asked Chi Yi for a red envelope. Chi Yi responded swiftly, sending a flurry of red envelopes in quick succession.

Xie Shaoyun said, Alright, that’s enough. No more.

Chi Yi complained that WeChat red envelopes had a limit, but in the midst of their chat, she sent a few more anyway.

Hastily changing the subject, Xie Shaoyun asked her, What New Year’s gift would you like?

Chi Yi replied, I’d like Teacher Xie to paint me an iris.

The studio is closing for the holidays tomorrow. Can we switch to a red envelope instead? Xie Shaoyun curled her lips, deliberately feigning reluctance. Chi Yi easily relented.

She proposed another condition: Fine, then. I want to video call with you.

Before Xie Shaoyun could agree, Chi Yi’s video call came through.

“When are you coming to see me?”

The phone was propped upright. Chi Yi had been working, but upon hearing Xie Shaoyun mention the holiday break, she moved closer to the camera, her face now centered on the screen.

Secretary Wang knocked and entered, carrying a document for Chi Yi to sign. Chi Yi told her to leave it on the desk, then used her work phone to make a business call, all without ending the video chat with Xie Shaoyun.

Only after Chi Yi finished her call did Xie Shaoyun respond.

“In a few days. The association’s year-end dinner is coming up, I can’t skip it.” Xie Shaoyun didn’t look up, her brush tracing lines on the paper. Her fingers appeared in the frame.

Chi Yi stared at those fingertips, haloed by the winter sunlight, and after a moment, abruptly said, “I miss you.”

Xie Shaoyun found it strange. They had only been apart for two days. When working alone in their respective offices, they often kept the video call running, each doing their own tasks without interruption, chatting during breaks or sharing meals while discussing their daily schedules. They were even more inseparable than in their past lives.

But Chi Yi’s tone was earnest, as if she genuinely longed to see Xie Shaoyun.

Xie Shaoyun’s brush paused on the paper, ink bleeding into the fibers. For a long while, she didn’t make another stroke.

Perhaps because Xie Shaoyun’s silence lasted too long, Chi Yi asked, “Can you come on the 26th?”

“The Artists’ Association has a lot of year-end gatherings. In previous years, I was abroad, but this time I have no excuse to skip…” Xie Shaoyun cautiously outlined her schedule for the next few days.

The other end of the call fell quiet. They each focused on their tasks for a while, the video call still connected.

Xie Shaoyun sketched lines on her canvas.

By the time she finished the flowers, Chi Yi said, “I understand.” Her tone hadn’t changed much, but her breath hitched slightly, lingering a beat too long.

Xie Shaoyun set down her brush and looked at Chi Yi.

Chi Yi was silent, her head lowered. She had just trimmed her hair before the New Year, the once waist-length strands, now free of split ends, were slightly shorter. Loose tendrils slipped forward, framing the exposed skin of her neck, making her seem inexplicably fragile and subdued.

Xie Shaoyun picked up her phone, her face filling the screen as she called out Chi Yi’s name.

Chi Yi immediately looked up, their eyes meeting as she asked, “Finished painting?”

“No, not painting anymore,” Xie Shaoyun replied.

“Why?”

Xie Shaoyun took a sip of coffee and glanced at her. “Since Miss Chi said she missed me, how could I not respond?”

She threw the question back, her puppy-like eyes curving downward, bright and brimming with amusement, shimmering with warmth. She told Chi Yi she would do her best to arrive by the 26th.

Chi Yi was easily appeased, her lips curling involuntarily. She set down the documents in her hand and looked at Xie Shaoyun, her tone almost cheerful as she offered to book the earliest flight for her.

“I’ll get you the first flight out.”

The early flight was at six in the morning. Xie Shaoyun thought Chi Yi had lost her mind.

“No way,” Xie Shaoyun refused flatly. “I can’t possibly wake up that early.”

“Theoretically, it’s impossible,” Chi Yi agreed with Xie Shaoyun’s reasoning. “But I can wake you up.”

She rattled off several sentences in a row, her near-unreasonable demands making Xie Shaoyun feel that Chi Yi desperately needed happiness. With a generosity she hadn’t known she possessed, Xie Shaoyun agreed to Chi Yi’s arrangements, saying, “Got it. I’ll come find you a little earlier.”

In the past three months, Xie Shaoyun had flown over a dozen times between the capital and Nan City.

The roar of the plane’s descent from ten thousand meters still echoed in her ears.

Waking up mid-flight, Xie Shaoyun felt the distinct sensation of the plane descending. The turbulent weather rain and snow made the landing even more harrowing.

At ten thousand meters in the air, Xie Shaoyun experienced the heart-pounding thrill of the descent.

Three hundred sixty-five days a year, in Chi Yi’s journeys to reach Xie Shaoyun, she had likely grown accustomed to the relentless cycle of takeoffs and landings, day and night.

Xie Shaoyun thought that perhaps she should move.

Move her studio to Nan City, visit her parents and elders regularly, meet up with her sisters more often, and then stay properly with Chi Yi.

Emerging from the arrivals gate, the airport was packed with people.

Xie Shaoyun carried a small piece of luggage, following the crowd out of the terminal. The moment she looked up, her eyes met Chi Yi’s in the distance.

Chi Yi stood in the waiting area, a marble pillar behind her. She didn’t lean against it, her slender legs were straight as rods, more upright than the trunk of a poplar tree.

An assistant stood beside her, reporting something.

In the crowd, Chi Yi stood out starkly from everyone else.

Her presence was striking, her figure graceful. She wore a simple, solid-colored satin blouse paired with a black satin pencil skirt, a cashmere coat draped over her shoulders, the fabric falling perfectly, exuding elegance.

Her expression remained aloof, until her gaze locked with Xie Shaoyun’s. Only then did Chi Yi seem to come alive, adjusting her glasses before leaving her assistant behind and walking toward Xie Shaoyun.

She took the luggage from Xie Shaoyun’s hands and passed it to the driver.

Xie Shaoyun reached out and took Chi Yi’s hand this time, it was cold. Leaning in, Xie Shaoyun asked, “Did you wait long?”

“Just got here,” Chi Yi replied immediately, though she averted her gaze. Xie Shaoyun could tell she was nervous, unsure how to express herself.

“Then you’re really lucky. The moment I stepped out, you found me.”

Chi Yi turned to look at her silently. Pretending not to notice, Xie Shaoyun asked, “What’s wrong?”

Chi Yi couldn’t help but correct her in a matter-of-fact tone: “The reason I could spot you at a glance is because I was staring at the exit the whole time, searching for your figure. As long as you walked out and looked up, our eyes would meet.”

Chi Yi’s lips were pink, perhaps because she was eager to defend herself, they were slightly pursed and glistening with moisture.

The gold-rimmed glasses slid from the bridge of her nose to the tip. Xie Shaoyun chuckled, turned sideways, and adjusted the glasses for her. Her fingers then trailed down, caressing Chi Yi’s soft lips.

“Alright, I get it,” she said.

The driver was waiting at the airport entrance. After leaving the airport, the two sat in the back seat.

Xie Shaoyun helped Chi Yi fasten her seatbelt. Once done, she straightened up to move away, but Chi Yi suddenly grabbed her hand, not letting her return to her own seat.

Instead, Chi Yi stared into Xie Shaoyun’s eyes and called her name.

“Xie Shaoyun.”

Xie Shaoyun met her gaze and softly responded, “Hmm?”

“Don’t take everything I say too seriously. The truth is, I just flew back from West City and arrived at the airport at four. I didn’t go home. I might have waited for you for about four hours, but the flight was delayed, and there was no exact landing time. So I stood right in front of the exit, watching for a very, very long time.”

Chi Yi’s peach-blossom eyes narrowed slightly as their gazes locked, and she called Xie Shaoyun’s name again.

Xie Shaoyun turned back, wrapped her arms around Chi Yi’s neck. The sunlight was a bit harsh, and Chi Yi, unable to adjust, lowered her eyes. Xie Shaoyun reached out to shield her from the light.

Leaning in, she pulled the rear window curtain shut and kissed Chi Yi in the car, sucking on her lips before they both gasped for breath together.