Criticizing Love - Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The classroom was filled with the sound of pens scratching across paper. Cheng Jianbang had already turned over the test sheet, while most students were still stuck on the front page.

No one was distracted enough to notice the activity in the very back row of the classroom, nor would they notice Lin Xi’s face, which was suddenly flushed and frozen in a daze.

I want you.

Those four words were far too ambiguous. Even delivered without emotion, they made one’s heart skip and thud.

Lin Xi wasn’t the type to fall into fantasies over a few suggestive words; she was very sober. Unable to understand how Gu Nianyin could say such a thing with a straight face, she rationalized it by saying: “Gu Nianyin, you’re delirious from the pain!”

Gu Nianyin, however, remained as calm as ever, picking up the second half of the sentence she hadn’t finished: “I want you to help me keep track of the homework.”

Lin Xi froze instantly.

She didn’t even realize that her temper had been sparked by this girl again, only to be quickly extinguished by her. Her thoughts shifted from “Gu Nianyin is crazy” to “Is she really in that much pain?”

Gu Nianyin’s voice was soft, and she spoke very slowly: “I’ve requested leave for the two makeup classes next week, so I want you to help me take notes on the key points. If any exam papers are handed out, I’d also like you to bring them to me.”

As she spoke, Gu Nianyin lifted her eyes to look at Lin Xi.

The grueling menstrual period had cast a layer of exhaustion over the girl’s cold face. Her anemic complexion inexplicably reminded people of the common white butterflies seen in summer.

She remembered that kind of butterfly was called… a Cabbage White?

She couldn’t remember how she knew that; she only vaguely recalled someone telling her a long time ago.

With no way to trace the memory, Lin Xi watched as this “Miss Butterfly” threw a request her way: “Is that okay?”

Perhaps because of the terrifying “I want you” from a moment ago, Lin Xi found this actual request much easier to accept. Besides, Gu Nianyin had helped her pack her bag and papers yesterday, so it was only fair to return the favor.

Lin Xi gave a grunt of affirmation, then propped her chin up and teased, “Look, Miss, could you please not take such long pauses when you speak in the future?”

Gu Nianyin opened her lips sluggishly: “Sorry, I don’t have much energy.”

Seeing her like this, Lin Xi couldn’t bring herself to be harsh. She just waved a hand: “Fine, since you know you don’t have energy, don’t waste it talking.”

But Gu Nianyin didn’t seem to think so.

She pulled her jacket tighter around her and followed up on the previous topic: “So, what did you think I meant when I first said that sentence?”

The sky outside was cloudless; the sunlight was steady.

Gu Nianyin’s gaze stayed on Lin Xi’s face. Beneath those calm, fragile eyes lay thoughts deeper than anyone else’s. Though it was like still water without a ripple, it held an inexplicable layer of cunning—indifferent yet playful.

How could Lin Xi have expected Gu Nianyin to press the issue? It was clearly her own poor phrasing!

Lin Xi was technically in the right, and Gu Nianyin looked weak with her eyes slightly downcast. Yet, the sunlight caught her lashes and fell into her pupils, making them clear and bright, as if she could see through the other person’s mind in an instant.

…And it was true that Lin Xi had let her imagination run wild for a second because of that sentence.

“You’re mental!”

With the two facts laid out openly on the table, the one who didn’t dare face them was the first to surrender.

After tossing out that line, Lin Xi turned her head away and started scribbling furiously on her exam paper. It was unclear if she was scolding Gu Nianyin or herself.

Up on the podium, Cheng Jianbang finally finished checking the last answer. Confirmed that his test wasn’t too difficult, he looked at Lin Xi with confidence.

Instead, the veteran teacher saw his star pupil with her head down, writing like a madwoman with a deep frown, looking like she wanted to kill someone.

Cheng Jianbang knew Lin Xi only looked like that when she encountered a truly difficult problem. He immediately grew even more flustered. The poor exam paper was flipped over once again as he began re-reading it from the beginning.

The sun began to set, casting a reflection of pink across the sky as it dipped below the horizon. It looked like a sky full of strawberry milkshake—or like Lin Xi’s face in that one fleeting moment of blushing.

In the senior building, the hurried footsteps of those eager to go home slowed down. Many stopped at the corridors to take photos.

Lin Xi biked onto the embankment she passed every day and took a photo with her phone. She didn’t like crowds, but she loved scenery like this, and she loved sharing the beauty she saw with Xing Xiu.

Lin Xi thought that since Xing Xiu couldn’t leave the hospital for the time being, she would bring the outside world to her.

“Mom, look. I took this. Pretty, right?” As soon as Lin Xi reached the ward, she sat by Xing Xiu’s bed, eager to share her photos.

Xing Xiu looked at the sunset scenery Lin Xi handed her, finding it novel and stunning. Her eyes crinkled with a smile: “It’s so beautiful.”

The rare sunset had edited the familiar world into something entirely different. Everyone who saw it paused to record it.

Xing Xiu watched with great interest, offering constant praise. However, Lin Xi didn’t notice that Xing Xiu’s gaze always ended up lingering on the peace sign Lin Xi had stuck into the frame, or her smiling face toward the camera.

When they reached the last photo—a picture of the homework written on the classroom blackboard—Xing Xiu stopped scrolling. She handed the phone back to Lin Xi and praised her generously: “You took these really well. Our Xi has a lot of artistic talent.”

“Of course.” Lin Xi’s pride allowed her to accept any compliment. She then added excitedly, “I want to paint today’s sky for you, Mom. How about that?”

“Of course, that would be wonderful.” Xing Xiu smiled and reached out to stroke Lin Xi’s head.

She knew Lin Xi liked painting. She knew Lin Xi was good at it. When Lin Xi started high school, Xing Xiu had wanted to send her to a professional art school, but Lin Deyuan had strictly opposed it, calling it a waste of money, so she never mentioned it again.

Thinking about it now, Xing Xiu didn’t know whether to be relieved or not. After all, the two of them were now dependent on each other and had no extra money. This child wouldn’t choose her own future over her mother’s life; instead, she would sacrifice her future to extend her mother’s life.

Thinking of this, Xing Xiu felt a pang of heartache for Lin Xi. She gently stroked the girl’s beautiful long hair and asked softly, “Xi, do you have school tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” Lin Xi nodded. “After tomorrow, we have three days off, then two days of makeup classes, and then a day off for the weekend.”

“Do you feel tired?” Xing Xiu asked.

“How could I!” Lin Xi immediately denied it.

Sick people are often sensitive; Lin Xi could tell there was more to Xing Xiu’s words. She knew the guilt and sadness that Xing Xiu occasionally felt, so she always gave a passionate response to tell her mother she was needed. “Mom, this place is my charging station. Once I come here, I have infinite energy! How could I feel tired?”

Lin Xi hugged Xing Xiu’s neck, flamboyantly expressing how important her mother was to her. Xing Xiu’s somber mood vanished as she laughed and asked, “So, is our Xi fully charged now?”

“Almost.” Lin Xi leaned further into Xing Xiu’s embrace.

Xing Xiu hugged her back and urged her as usual: “Go back early. It’s getting dark sooner and sooner.”

Lin Xi refused to leave, lingering in the embrace, her voice growing much softer: “Let me charge for a little longer, Mom.”

The sun was about to sink completely, and the sky was pulling back the light it had shed on the world. The glass barely reflected the sunset, casting a shadow of the mother and daughter leaning against each other.

After Xing Xiu’s third urge, Lin Xi finally left the hospital ward.

When the light on the fourth floor of the old building signaled a homecoming, her phone screen lit up as well.

Lin Xi lay lazily on the sofa and opened WeChat. The class group was chatting joyfully, and her Moments feed was very lively. She had posted the pink sunset, and it had garnered many likes.

Zhong Sheng was commenting below, calling her a master photographer, and Qin Zhuo had sent a string of crowns. Lin Xi replied to them one by one with witty banter, but her smiling eyes suddenly paused.

Lin Xi didn’t even know how she noticed it—she just caught it for a split second. She suddenly noticed a black profile picture in the list of likes.

It was Gu Nianyin.

Clusters of butterflies flapped their wings in a black night scene. Lin Xi now knew the name of this butterfly. On an impulse, she clicked into Gu Nianyin’s Moments.

Lin Xi had expected her feed to be like the Blue Morpho—indigo hidden by dried-leaf patterns—but in reality, it was quite boring.

Compared to the fragments of life Lin Xi frequently shared, Gu Nianyin’s feed was filled with refined, formulaic records. Among them were photos of her receiving awards at competitions or attending events with her parents.

Looking at the two adults flanking the young girl, Lin Xi secretly felt glad she never posted such things. To be precise, her only photo with Lin Deyuan dated back to second grade. Even that was probably lost now; she had tossed it away as soon as she got it.

With that thought, Lin Xi’s gaze suddenly fell on Gu Nianyin’s mother—the woman Lin Deyuan could never forget, his so-called “White Moonlight.”

The luxuriously lit ballroom served only as a backdrop in the photo. The woman standing beside Gu Nianyin had her lips pressed thin; her black hair was styled in light, expensive curls. She exuded strength through her meticulousness, not giving off a “moonlight” vibe at all.

Compared to her, the man on Gu Nianyin’s other side looked somewhat more human. But only “somewhat”—his face looked kind, but the aura he emitted lacked any weakness; he looked like an indestructible city wall.

But this wall had still collapsed. The flying debris had even smashed into another wall far away in Nancheng.

At this thought, Lin Xi’s brow furrowed.

Her first impression of this entire family was poor, and her disdainful gaze extended to Gu Nianyin standing in the middle. She was wearing a pure pink dress—a color that was a bit “girly,” but it was anchored by the tiered skirt, exuding elegance within her youth.

Her thick, curled lashes were perfect to the very tip. She stood tall, and even between those two people, her presence wasn’t overshadowed much. Her expressionless face was practically identical to theirs.

Lin Xi stared at Gu Nianyin’s face, letting out a long sigh as an unidentifiable feeling washed over her.

Her gaze shifted slightly, and she noticed a banner in the background with the words “Happy Birthday” visible.

So this was Gu Nianyin’s birthday party last year.

Lin Xi’s circle had no intersection with Gu Nianyin’s. She had heard Xing Xiu say that the “White Moonlight” lady from Zhucheng was far more powerful than Lin Deyuan. It seemed that if she hadn’t been Lin Deyuan’s “White Moonlight,” their two vastly different worlds would never have crossed paths.

People are often limited by their own horizons. Lin Xi looked at the luxurious, dazzling background in Gu Nianyin’s photo, and her thoughts deepened.

Lin Deyuan had never thrown a birthday party like this for her. He had never intended to introduce her to others.

Gu Nianyin was different. She was taken out into the world openly by her parents. On that day, many people must have wished her well.

Moments had one downside: without mutual friends, Lin Xi couldn’t see any of the comments. But she could imagine it—in such a setting and circle, there would definitely be many people flattering her, praising her, and adoring her.

Whether it was real or fake, Gu Nianyin could choose. She could choose love from anyone.

As this realization hit, Lin Xi’s already downcast eyes dropped further. The living room was silent, and the loneliness of the night was illuminated by the ceiling light, with nowhere to hide.

“Heh.”

Lin Xi let out a sudden, dry laugh.

She laughed at her own foolishness for comparing herself to Gu Nianyin; they were clearly from two different worlds. Without Lin Deyuan, they would never have interacted.

Reality harshly punctured the virtual fantasy, reminding Lin Xi that the only bond between her and Gu Nianyin was Lin Deyuan. It was that disgusting, hypocritical man she swore to take revenge on—the man she wanted to make suffer more than the wife he had abandoned.

The emotions surging in the girl’s heart were sensed by her hatred, which ruthlessly pressed down on her, forcing her to remember her plan—which had shown zero progress so far.

Like a program being pulled back onto its track by the system, Lin Xi keenly noticed from the caption of that post that Gu Nianyin’s birthday was October 6th.

So, it seemed the reason she had requested leave was for her birthday.

She was seventeen last year, which meant…

After this Saturday, Gu Nianyin would be an adult.

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