Did the Tsundere Miss Get Slapped in the Face Again Today? - Chapter 80

Chapter 80: “I Can’t Take It Anymore, I’m Going To Drag Her Back!!”

She pressed the power button. Along with the startup chime, the logo lit up the screen. Perhaps because it hadn’t been used in two years, the phone lagged for a full thirty seconds before entering the home screen.

As soon as it connected to the network—ding-dong! One notification, then another, then another, and another.

The incoming message alert wouldn’t stop ringing. SMS messages popped up one after another, eventually turning into the “999+” notification badge. And every single message was from the same person.

The name Jiang Zhi had saved two years ago: Lin Kitten.

With trembling fingers, she tapped into the message box. The last message was actually from today—this morning, she had sent the words “Good morning.”

Scrolling up, there were dozens of messages sent almost every day. She sent “Good morning” and “Good night,” shared trivial things she encountered throughout her day, and the phrase that appeared most frequently was…

“Jiang Yi, where are you? When are you coming back?”

Jiang Zhi’s eyes turned red instantly. A single tear fell onto the phone screen, blurring her vision.

How could there be someone so foolish? How could someone truly wait for her for two years? Two years… an entire two years. Was it worth it? Not at all.

She pressed the phone to her chest, feeling the warmth of the words. Her hands shook, and her whole body followed. Zhaocai, perched on the ceiling beam, tilted its head to look at her before jumping down to rub against her feet, meowing to comfort the person trembling with sobs.

Jiang Zhi wiped her tears, regulated her breathing, and continued reading with shaking hands. She couldn’t possibly finish two years’ worth of messages in a short time, but she showed no impatience. She read them one by one, word by word, sentence by sentence.

She read with extreme focus, terrified of missing even a punctuation mark. She tried to imagine Lin Anran’s mood and expression when sending each one; the more she imagined, the more her heart ached.

What on earth did I do? Why did I treat her like this?

Jiang Zhi wanted to reply, but for a moment, she didn’t know where to start. “I’m sorry” felt too casual and insincere; “I love you” felt too frivolous and abrupt. She typed and deleted long essays over and over again. An hour passed, and she hadn’t managed to edit a single decent reply.

Because she stayed in the chat box for too long and her fingers were shaking, a mistake was inevitable. By accident, she tapped Lin Anran’s profile picture, and a “Nudge” notification was sent.

Jiang Zhi’s eyes widened. She panicked, not knowing what to do. In her frantic state, her instinct was to throw the phone back onto the table. She scrambled back several steps, putting distance between herself and the device.

She even fled the room.

Standing in the yard, she didn’t dare look back, as if a fierce beast inside the house was staring at her, ready to swallow her whole if she turned around. She started finding things to do—sweeping the yard, pulling weeds in the vegetable patch, watering the plants.

She kept herself busy with whatever chores she could find. Finally, exhausted and wiping sweat from her forehead, she gathered her courage and looked back toward the house.

Biting her lip, she moved back inside one agonizing step at a time. At first, it was avoidance, but by the time she reached the door, it turned into urgency. She ran to the table and checked the phone.

The screen was black. It had run out of battery and shut down.

Jiang Zhi found the charger, plugged it in, and impatiently turned it on. In those few seconds, she thought of everything. Did Lin Anran see the nudge? Did she reply? Is she angry?

She shouldn’t have thrown the phone away in fear. She had written so many drafts, some nearly two thousand words long… but she was never satisfied with them. After all that agonizing, she had sent a mere “nudge.” Would Anran think she was being perfunctory? Would she be disappointed?

Her head felt like it was going to explode.

Finally, the phone turned on. Jiang Zhi tapped back in. One hour ago, she had sent the nudge. Lin Anran hadn’t replied. Jiang Zhi refreshed the app several times, but the interface remained unchanged. No reply.

Jiang Zhi sighed. She’s angry. She’s so angry she doesn’t even want to reply. She felt deep regret. Is it too late to write a long essay now?

She started typing frantically, wanting to explain the nudge, to apologize, to express her longing, to say “I love you.” She had so much to say—ten thousand words wouldn’t be enough. But perhaps because she was too flustered, she couldn’t form a single sentence.

Just as she was forcing herself to calm down, the phone vibrated slightly.

“Lin Kitten nudged you back.”

Jiang Zhi froze, staring at the notification. A minute later, she suddenly laughed, then suddenly cried. She had been crying a lot lately, swinging between grief and joy.

She edited a long message but, in the end, didn’t dare send it, saving it in her notes instead.

Over the next few days, Lin Anran and Jiang Zhi began a sporadic conversation. It was very ordinary: saying “Good night” at bedtime and “Good morning” upon waking. Every day was calm and peaceful. Jiang Zhi loved this state—not too close, not too far. It was just right. She wondered if Lin Anran liked it too.

The first thing Jiang Zhi did every morning was say good morning. Seeing a reply would make her happy all day. Before bed, she would wait for a “Good night,” and afterward, despite her chronic insomnia, she would sleep soundly.

This was good. Jiang Zhi was happy every day.

In Mucheng, inside her office, Lin Anran was not happy.

It had been a week. A whole week!

“Jiang Yi, do you have a death wish?!” Lin Anran muttered at her phone, gritting her teeth.

Though she was cursing under her breath, the messages she sent were gentle and sweet. She could barely keep up the act of being “considerate and tender” anymore! She wanted nothing more than to rush to the countryside right now and drag the woman back.

She held back her impulses with great effort. In her hand, she toyed with a plain red hand-cord, her eyes deep with meaning. “You’re quite something. I guess life in the country is truly too leisurely and comfortable. You lost such an important cord a week ago and haven’t even noticed.”

“I let you live comfortably,” Lin Anran gritted her teeth, clutching the cord. “Now, it’s time for you to suffer a little!”

Jiang Zhi indeed suffered. In the middle of her quiet life, she realized the hand-cord she wore year-round—the one she never took off—was gone.

It was missing!!

Jiang Zhi felt like the sky was falling. She searched every corner of her house, the yard, the garden, the riverside, and the mountain behind the house. She retraced every step she had taken, but she couldn’t find it. It had vanished into thin air, and she had no memory of when it happened.

If it wasn’t at home, could it have been lost in Mucheng a week ago? At that thought, she felt despair. If it was lost in Mucheng, she would likely never get it back. If it were something expensive, someone might return it, but a plain cord would be ignored or thrown away as trash.

The more she thought, the more panicked she became. She packed her bags to return to Mucheng. After arranging for her neighbor, Grandma Li, to look after Zhaocai, she set off.

She first checked with the staff at the train station—nothing. Upon arriving, she went straight to the hotel she had stayed in. It was most likely there.

She approached the front desk with a sliver of hope. “Hello, I stayed here a week ago in room 808. When you cleaned the room, did you find a red hand-cord? It’s a bit faded and very old…”

The receptionist smiled politely. “Please don’t worry, let me check for you.”

Jiang Zhi waited, her heart sinking. If it wasn’t here, it was gone forever. She stood with her head bowed, lost in self-reproach. How could I lose it?

“Yes, there is a record here,” the receptionist said.

Jiang Zhi’s eyes lit up, but the next sentence crushed her: “However, the item was picked up by the person who originally booked the room. Didn’t she tell you?”

Jiang Zhi was stunned. The person who booked the room… Lin Anran took it?

For a whole week, they had been in contact every day. Why hadn’t she mentioned it?

Jiang Zhi left the hotel and pulled out her phone. She opened the chat and typed: Did you take my hand-cord?

She deleted it. That sounded too accusatory. After struggling with the wording for ages, she finally sent:

“My hand-cord is missing. I just asked the hotel and they said you took it. Do you have it?”

She hit send. Immediately, the top of the screen showed “Typing…”

Lin Anran: “Look up. Look across the street.”

Jiang Zhi looked up blankly. Across the street, past the flow of traffic, a familiar figure stood by the bus stop.

She was wearing a black suit with a white shirt, her straight hair falling over her shoulders. She looked less like a naive girl and more like a mature, sophisticated woman.

Lin Anran waved at her, tilted her head, and offered a shallow smile.

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