Criticizing Love - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

A pitch-black sky twinkled with a few lonely stars, accompanying the silhouette of a girl on her bike as she pedaled into a narrow alley.

Low-rise brick houses stood in orderly rows within courtyards thick with greenery. Lin Xi skillfully navigated past children playing after dinner and parked her bike in the apartment entrance. The dim, narrow stairwell flickered to life as sound-activated lights responded to her upward climb.

Arriving at the fourth floor, she deftly pulled out her keys, unlocked the door, and called out to the interior: “I’m home!”

The dark house remained silent. There was no one inside. It’d be a ghost if someone actually answered, Lin Xi thought with a dry smile, reaching out to slap the light switch on the wall.

The apartment instantly brightened. The small “sparrow” of a home—a single living room and one bedroom—was fully revealed under the glow. This was the place Xing Xiu had insisted on buying after selling her suburban villa. Her reason was simple: she wanted Lin Xi to have a home that wasn’t rented, a small space that belonged only to the two of them.

When they bought it, Xing Xiu had come to see it. That night, she had huddled in bed with Lin Xi, sharing dreams of the future—imagining her illness being controlled, coming home to live here, and their life together in these rooms.

Lin Xi firmly believed her mother would get better and come back. Her mother was the best person in the world; heaven would surely protect her.

Slipping into cheap slippers she’d haggled for at the night market, Lin Xi walked into the living room. She had finished her homework during self-study and in the hospital room, so this was her rest time. She pulled out her phone to play a few rounds of Tetris.

However, as the screen lit up, a flood of messages appeared from a single group.

Group Name: 1111

“What kind of weird name is that?” Lin Xi frowned as she clicked on the unrecognized group. Once inside, she realized it was a 4×100 relay group chat created by Zhong Sheng. Zhong Sheng’s logic was often eccentric and beyond normal understanding; Lin Xi didn’t even try to parse it.

Seeing the “99+” notification, she knew it wasn’t anything urgent. She tapped the arrow to jump to the top and began reading at her own pace.

A small blue notification at the top showed that Lin Xi was the first to be added. At the bottom, after the last person joined, a prompt appeared: You are not friends with one person in this group.

There were only four people in the group. Who else could it be? Gu Nianyin, obviously.

Lin Xi looked at the WeChat name—three English letters—and recognized them as Gu Nianyin’s initials. They say a profile picture reflects a person’s character, and Gu Nianyin’s was no exception: a cold, aloof image of blue stars flickering against a pure black background…

Lin Xi stared at the thumbnail for a long time, sensing something was off. She tapped to enlarge it and realized it wasn’t stars at all—it was a swarm of butterflies. Their indigo wings flapped in the air, casting points of eerie light against the darkness. A moon hung in the background, almost an afterthought. It took a while for Lin Xi to notice its pale glow, silently guarding that beautiful, dark freedom.

Guided by a strange impulse, Lin Xi zoomed in further. Low-lying plants shrouded in shadow sat at the bottom of the image. They looked strangely familiar. It felt as if she had been to this place before…

“Heh.”

The moment the thought surfaced, Lin Xi dismissed it with a sneer. How could she and Gu Nianyin have a past? One was a high-and-mighty princess from Zhu City; the other was… well, herself.

Mocking her own thoughts, Lin Xi exited Gu Nianyin’s profile. She had no interest in adding her as a friend.

In the group chat, Zhong Sheng finally remembered the other two members and started @-ing them: Where is Lin Xi? Where is the Great One? We’ve been chatting for so long and they still haven’t shown up? @AA Four-leaf Rose Wholesaler, @gny.

Lin Xi replied succinctly: Speak.

This person is so cold. — Qin Zhuo teased. [She’s faking it. — Zhong Sheng countered.

Lin Xi rolled her eyes at their back-and-forth. Just as she was about to send a voice message to argue with them, the other tagged person appeared.

gny: Sorry, I can’t look at my phone constantly. If there are team matters to discuss, please go ahead. I will reply once I see them.

Lin Xi snorted with disdain. She understood being busy, but she couldn’t stand Gu Nianyin’s overly formal, robotic tone. Cold and emotionless.

Lin Xi tapped Gu Nianyin’s profile picture and muttered, “Would it kill you to use an emoji? Ice-face princess.”

Zhong Sheng didn’t mind. She assumed Gu Nianyin, like Lin Xi, was at cram school. After all, a “Great One” aimed for top universities like Tsinghua or Peking; studying late into the night was expected.

Qin Zhuo agreed: That’s fine. We three will discuss first. Great One, check in when you’re free. If you have opinions, post in the group or DM me.

Gu Nianyin replied quickly: Okay.

With everyone accounted for, Qin Zhuo introduced the plan: First, the relay order. I want to keep the same formation as last year. I’m first leg, Zhong Sheng is third, and Lin Xi is fourth. Since Old Liu was the second leg, the Great One will take her spot. Leg two. What do you guys think?

No objections. Lin Xi typed. Her mood visibly brightened. With this arrangement, she wouldn’t have to pass the baton to Gu Nianyin, nor receive it from her. Even during training, their contact would be minimal. It was a blessing in disguise.

Great, next is the training schedule…

While Qin Zhuo messaged, Zhong Sheng lay in her room, and Lin Xi reclined on her sofa.

In the brightly lit villa district, a phone on a desk flickered rhythmically. The room was silent except for the sound of a pen gliding across paper. As Mid-Autumn approached, the crescent moon was slowly filling with white light. Its glow spilled through the window, illuminating the downward-tilted face of a girl.

Gu Nianyin’s posture was as perfect as it was in the classroom, her back almost parallel to the chair’s spine. A fountain pen in her hand traced a series of complex words—not English, but the cursive characters of Russian.

After filling half a page, she finished with a single, sharp period. Without resting, she checked her work against an answer key. Her red pen circled a few errors; even in private, she showed herself no mercy.

Only when she finished did she pick up her phone. The relay discussion had ended, and the others were chatting casually. Lin Xi had recently sent a voice message.

Gu Nianyin’s gaze lingered on Lin Xi’s WeChat name. She reached for her headphones with unhurried yet efficient movements and pressed play.

“Damn it, Zhong Sheng, are you that starved for gossip? How can you even ask that question?”

The voice wasn’t loud, but it was irritable and a bit raspy. Gu Nianyin lowered her lashes. In her mind’s eye, she saw the girl’s defiant gaze—a flash of “bristling fur” before looking away, a swinging ponytail swaying like the light in Gu Nianyin’s eyes.

Unnoticed, even by the moon, a slight smile touched Gu Nianyin’s lips.

The voice message ended, and the silence of the night returned to her headphones. As Gu Nianyin began tidying her books, the camera above her room moved slightly. A woman’s voice came through:

“Niannian, keep your back straighter. Don’t slouch.”

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