Diagnosis: Friend [Rebirth] - Chapter 29.1

Chapter 29.1

Jiang Qing’s mind went blank as her moral compass took a heavy blow. She didn’t know what to say, so she managed only a dry, “I have to go,” and walked away quickly before Tan Baozhu could reply.

After a few steps, she still felt uneasy and stole a glance back.

What she saw sent a jolt of shock through her. Tan Baozhu had stood up from the bench and moved onto the rocks by the river. Sensing Jiang Qing’s gaze, the girl turned her head and gave a tragic, haunting smile.

Not good!

Jiang Qing’s eyes widened, and she sprinted back toward Tan Baozhu. Before she could reach her, the black figure took a light leap and tumbled into the river.

Jiang Qing threw herself onto the river stones, screaming, “Help! Help! Someone fell in the water!”

She hadn’t even shouted twice before a face bobbed up from the flowing water—ghastly white like a ghost, with lips as red as a fresh corpse just pulled from the depths. Then, Tan Baozhu simply stood up.

The river was thick with weeds, but Jiang Qing had never noticed that the water was only a bit above an adult’s knees; it wasn’t deep enough to drown anyone. Tan Baozhu, with several green weeds clinging to her head, held up a bracelet. She looked at Jiang Qing with confusion. “What were you shouting for?”

Jiang Qing couldn’t stand her playing the victim. “Why did you jump in?”

“Pull me up.” Tan Baozhu placed her hand in Jiang Qing’s palm. “I was picking up the bracelet my mother left me.” Realizing something, she sneered, “You didn’t think I was committing suicide, did you?”

Jiang Qing really wanted to ask: If you weren’t committing suicide, what was with that look you gave me?

Tan Baozhu was soaked and couldn’t stop shivering. “I was going to ask if you could hold me from behind while I tried to fish it out with my hand.”

Jiang Qing: “Then what was with that diving posture?”

Tan Baozhu: “I slipped.”

Jiang Qing: “…”

Water dripped from the soaked clothes, forming a puddle around Tan Baozhu. She took off her wet blazer, trembling. “I can’t go home like this… so, can I go to your place to change?” Her teeth were audibly chattering.

Water slid down her pale face, and her perpetual straight bangs were stuck messily to her skin. Tan Baozhu’s face turned a sickly blue as she pleaded softly, “I’ll just change clothes. I won’t linger at your place.”

Ten minutes later.

Jiang Qing pushed open the door to her guesthouse room. Tan Baozhu followed, looking around. “You actually live in a guesthouse? I thought you…” Her gaze was suddenly drawn to the two potted plants on the windowsill. She pursed her lips, her body still shaking.

Jiang Qing handed a clean nightgown to her. “Thought I what?”

Tan Baozhu looked at the golden calamondin tree. “Nothing.”

Jiang Qing said, “I don’t have extra clothes for you to wear home. There’s a clothing shop downstairs. After you shower and change into the nightgown, go down and buy something cheap to wear.”

The girl clutched the nightgown and entered the bathroom. After a muffled “Okay,” the glass door shut with a thud.

Under the harsh white light, hot water sprayed from the showerhead. Tan Baozhu’s icy skin constricted at the touch of the warmth. As the fine mist blurred her vision, she hugged her chest, finally feeling a long-awaited warmth.

She found a bottle of shampoo in the corner. Squinting to read the label, she saw it was an off-brand she had never heard of. It felt astringent in her palm and smelled cheap. She curled her lip but reluctantly smeared it onto her hair.

The body wash was also low-quality—the kind of thing she wouldn’t even look at in a supermarket. She wondered if the guesthouse provided it or if Jiang Qing had bought it. She guessed it was Jiang Qing; a cheap place like this would only provide even worse disposable packets.

She liked to squat while showering; it gave her a visceral sense of security. Squatting in the corner, her back against the cold wall, she squeezed the slippery soap into her hand. Her heart suddenly accelerated. She slowly touched her own body, caressing herself as if she were a lover.

In reality, she had no lover, and her touch was rough. She nearly slapped her own flesh. When she encountered a bruise, she would stop, rest her finger gently against it, and then slowly pinch down.

It was a sharp, aching pain. Sometimes she couldn’t help but cry out; it hurt, but it also felt good. Especially since the guesthouse walls were thin, she could hear Jiang Qing walking around in the room, which made her pinch herself even harder. Tan Baozhu felt it still wasn’t enough.

She turned the shower back on to rinse off. Finally, she dried herself with a towel and squatted before the basin containing her wet clothes. Water dripped from her hair, sliding down her chin and onto her chest. Tan Baozhu wiped the water from her face and began searching carefully through the pile of clothes.

After nearly a minute, she found it—small and soft. She frowned deeply, then her expression relaxed. She used the cold tiles for support to stand up, removed her towel, and admired her body in the mirror. Looking at the nightgown with its childish patterns, she felt a wave of disdain for its cheapness but put it on anyway.

Hearing the bathroom door open, Jiang Qing looked up from the book she was reading on the bed and pointed to the cabinet. “The hairdryer is in there.”

The hairdryer made a massive noise, like an old, dilapidated fan. Tan Baozhu couldn’t help but complain. Without looking up, Jiang Qing tucked a stray hair behind her ear and said, “You don’t have to use it.” She had done enough by bringing her back; she wasn’t going to serve a picky princess.

Tan Baozhu dried her hair halfway, borrowed a down jacket from Jiang Qing to wrap around herself, and went downstairs to buy a temporary outfit. The clothing shop was small, and the clothes were both expensive and ugly. Tan Baozhu swore she would throw these rags away the moment she got home.

Jiang Qing sat on the bed, chin in hand, watching Tan Baozhu’s fluctuating expressions. “Are you going to change or not?” The priority was for her to change and leave.

Tan Baozhu closed her eyes in despair. “It’s so ugly.”

Jiang Qing put on her shoes. “I’m going to the bathroom first.”

The fragrance of flowers and oranges lingered in the room. Tan Baozhu sniffed the air, turning her gaze away from the heap of ugly clothes to walk toward the window. Her posture was slightly awkward. The window was decorated with red paper-cuts, which, combined with the calamondin tree, looked very festive.

Tan Baozhu gave a mocking sneer, thinking Jiang Qing must be treating this guesthouse like a home to decorate it so carefully. Then, realizing this wasn’t Jian Wenxin’s house, she felt discouraged. When Jiang Qing agreed to bring her back, she thought she might get to see where the teacher lived. What a pity.

She leaned down to smell the orange-pink flowers. They were incredibly sweet. She couldn’t help but pinch a petal; it was soft, like touching a small mouse. She let go and straightened up. Just as she was about to return to the bed to deal with the ugly clothes, her peripheral vision caught the street scene outside, and she froze.

Under a tall streetlamp hung a large red lantern. Beneath it sat a taxi. Beside the taxi, a girl with her hair down tapped on her phone, smiled at the driver, and began walking toward the guesthouse along the sidewalk.

The distance wasn’t far; Tan Baozhu could see clearly that it was Gu Yining. She rubbed her chin and glanced back at the window decorations, suddenly letting out a soft laugh. This trip was turning out to be worthwhile.

Tan Baozhu walked toward the door and quietly slid the lock. The deadbolt was disengaged. She glanced at the bathroom door, hearing the sound of the toilet flushing.

Jiang Qing came out of the bathroom, grabbed a tissue to dry her hands, and saw Tan Baozhu sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs pressed together. She urged, “Go in and change.” She remembered the wet clothes. “If you want your old clothes, put them in that bag. If not, bag them anyway and throw them out when you leave.”

She walked to the window to toss a few fallen leaves back into the flowerpot. Turning back, she saw Tan Baozhu still staring blankly. “Why are you…”

The girl spoke first. “Jiang Qing, I don’t feel well.”

Jiang Qing walked over to her. “Where does it hurt?” Walking around soaked for so long made a fever very likely. She looked at Tan Baozhu’s face; without makeup, it wasn’t as pale, showing a flush of pink. “There’s a hospital nearby. Do you want to go?”

Tan Baozhu suddenly reached out and grabbed Jiang Qing’s wrist. Her voice was low and abnormal. “I think I have a fever. Feel it.”

Jiang Qing didn’t know if she was sick, but Tan Baozhu’s grip was strong, pulling Jiang Qing’s palm onto her forehead. The girl’s eyes were watery. “How is it? Is it a bit hot?”

Her palm was pressed against thick bangs. Jiang Qing suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “I didn’t even touch skin. How about you move your bangs first?”

The girl giggled, her shoulders shaking. The strength in her wrist suddenly spiked. Jiang Qing lost her balance, and after a dizzying spin, she crashed onto the bed. Tan Baozhu flipped over to straddle Jiang Qing’s waist, one hand pinning her neck and the other holding her wrist. Meeting Jiang Qing’s furious gaze, she coaxed softly, “Jiang Qing, I’m a bit uncomfortable. It’ll be over in a moment.”

The girl’s face was a shade redder than before, and her eyes looking at Jiang Qing were almost… sultry?

Jiang Qing wasn’t slow. She shoved Tan Baozhu away with all her might. The girl lost her strength and fell back onto the bed, and suddenly something landed on the floor with a thud.

Jiang Qing’s gaze followed the sound. When her eyes landed on the soft, small object, she reflexively looked away, staring at Tan Baozhu in disbelief. “Are you…”

Even after living twenty-nine years, this was the first time Jiang Qing had encountered something like this—and the first time she’d met someone as neurotic as Tan Baozhu. Her attention was entirely focused on Tan Baozhu; she didn’t notice the room door being opened or the sound of approaching footsteps.

Tan Baozhu scrambled up from the bed, her eyes tracking the fallen object. She was annoyed, but seeing a set of long, slender fingers pick up the small ball, she felt a rush of satisfaction. She looked up at Jiang Qing, then shifted her gaze to the person standing behind Jiang Qing with a dark expression. “Gu Yining, what are you doing here?”