How Did The Young Lady Go Bankrupt? - Chapter 13

When you expect someone to be angry, but they smile instead, your first reaction is always to feel even more self-conscious.

Lu Zhiyao should have been furious. Duan Zishu glanced around uneasily.

“Well?” Lu Zhiyao said calmly. “Why are you standing there frozen?”

Is this what it feels like to be the only person sent out to complete a mission in a horror-themed escape room only to run into the boss?

“I’m sorry.” The more nervous Duan Zishu felt, the more she wanted to drink something to calm her nerves.

“It’s alright. I mean that.”

Lu Zhiyao sighed and stopped looking directly into her eyes. The pressure immediately lessened.

“I do hate alcohol, but only as it pertains to myself,” she told Duan Zishu. “I have no right to interfere in your life, especially since you’ve already quit, haven’t you?”

Duan Zishu’s eyes flickered, not relaxing at all because of this answer. “I quit before I returned to the country. I didn’t want to make you dislike me.”

Lu Zhiyao smiled.

Quitting anything is difficult. She once had a colleague with a smoking addiction; the woman always smelled like cured meat that had been smoked through, leaving an acrid scent wherever she went, even if she wasn’t currently smoking. She claimed she hadn’t picked up the habit well in her youth and couldn’t shake it now.

It was indeed hard to quit. Neither the disgust of her friends nor her girlfriend breaking up with her had made her fully give it up. “I can’t resist it,” she would say.

But one day, she suddenly stopped. The reason was simple: after catching a cold, she developed a violent cough. Even after the illness passed, the cough didn’t disappear; it wouldn’t stop. Eventually, because the coughing was so severe, she quit naturally. She never heard of her smoking again.

People really do love themselves best, Lu Zhiyao thought. She only quit because she was uncomfortable.

Duan Zishu stopped drinking before returning to China, likely before her bankruptcy. It probably wasn’t because she couldn’t afford it, but because her body was failing her. Lu Zhiyao had always felt that Duan Zishu’s constitution was indeed fragile.

This small interlude was harmless. She didn’t intend to project the hatred for alcohol she felt because of her mother onto others. But Lu Zhiyao suddenly felt that just going back to sleep wasn’t the best choice.

“It’s been hard, hasn’t it?” she said, stepping forward and taking Duan Zishu’s hand.

It was an impulsive gesture, one that surprised even Lu Zhiyao herself. Duan Zishu’s palm was damp, breaking out in a cold sweat.

The moment she was held, Duan Zishu shuddered violently, startled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and pulled her hand away. Clutching the cola, she whispered, “The cola came out of the fridge; there were water droplets on the can.”

That was clearly a cold sweat.

Lu Zhiyao didn’t expose her; instead, she pulled out a few tissues and handed them over. Duan Zishu took them and wiped her hands very earnestly, cleaning finger by finger, from the webbing to the pads, quite meticulously. After finishing, she seemed to ponder something, then silently took Lu Zhiyao’s hand back.

Her palm was still not as dry as usual.

It seemed the “addiction” was something even more difficult to control than Lu Zhiyao had imagined. It wasn’t just a psychological craving; it affected the body, too. Heart palpitations, cold sweats, tremors—to escape these physical symptoms, the brain drives a person to seek out the addictive substance, which is why it’s so hard to quit.

Regardless, alcohol isn’t something one gets addicted to instantly, nor was anyone forcing her to drink it every day—everything was self-inflicted. Added to her prejudice against alcohol, Lu Zhiyao felt she couldn’t conjure up much sympathy.

Yet, she stepped forward anyway.

At this distance, if they weren’t familiar, it would trigger a natural repulsion toward the invasion of personal space. But for acquaintances, it signified intimacy.

“If you’re feeling unwell, you can tell me.”

For Duan Zishu, this affliction was truly difficult to speak of. Her mother hadn’t allowed other children to drink excessively, but she had been quite permissive with Duan Zishu. Duan Zishu wasn’t stupid enough to mistake that for coddling. She lived under a mindset of trying to prove herself, feeling that even without being asked, she should perform perfectly. Yet, she was also influenced by a self-destructive feeling that no matter how upright she acted, no one would care.

Either way, that initial period of withdrawal was incredibly humiliating for her. A person, unable to control their own reactions and behaviors.

Duan Zishu, who valued face above all else, had thought she would bury these things at the bottom of her heart for a lifetime. But the night—what a time to brew emotions. All the past events she wouldn’t think of during the day now surged into her mind.

“I… I can’t help but think about alcohol; it’s hard to control,” Duan Zishu said slowly. “But I went to Alcoholics Anonymous. They shared some ways to divert attention.”

“Replacing it with cola?”

Duan Zishu nodded. “There were other things.”

“What?” Lu Zhiyao followed up.

“…” Duan Zishu’s eyes began to drift again. After a long while, she said slowly, “Hugging.”

“Hmm?”

After saying it, Duan Zishu recited the rest like she was reading lines from a script.

“Hugging has great benefits for the human body; it can promote the secretion of dopamine and oxytocin, making people feel happy and at ease. Research shows that people who hug often have a higher average life expectancy than those who refuse physical contact. So, even without symptoms, there’s no harm in hugging more.”

She rarely spoke at such length. Having finished her lines, she fell silent, once again revealing that slightly aggrieved look. Lu Zhiyao just smiled, her gaze seemingly able to pierce through every little trick.

Duan Zishu refused to meet her eyes. “Of course, no one hugs me.”

Lu Zhiyao thought to herself, Give me a break. An incredibly wealthy and beautiful young miss studying abroad couldn’t get a hug? Duan Zishu’s friends played quite fast and loose.

“…So, I can only do this.” Duan Zishu crossed her arms, her palms gripping her own shoulders tightly. “Hugging myself like this to steady my breathing, whispering something to myself, it’s somewhat useful.”

“Alright.” Lu Zhiyao let out a breath. “Let me hug you.”

As she pulled Duan Zishu into her embrace, Lu Zhiyao felt a sense of familiarity. Hadn’t she hugged her just like this when Duan Zishu was making a fuss about not wanting to eat noodles in the back alley?

This person, Lu Zhiyao thought, she isn’t as pitiful as she claims.

Lu Zhiyao smiled, not asking whether this was truly useful for quitting alcohol or if Duan Zishu just wanted a hug. A hug was an incredibly intimate posture, and Lu Zhiyao felt the warmth of her body. It was warmer than she had imagined; she had never felt it so carefully before. Lu Zhiyao had always assumed that two people with similar body temperatures wouldn’t notice each other’s heat when held together.

Come to think of it, winter was almost here.

“I can’t sleep,” Duan Zishu said again.

The two had returned to the living room, and she was lying on the sofa.

“I’ll stay by your side until you fall asleep.”

“The country I went to… it was already very cold during this season. And I was all alone.”

“Oh, you poor little thing.”

But how could you be alone? she thought. You have friends, followers, admirers. Even if you moved to a different country, you wouldn’t be all by yourself. Duan Zishu’s friends would have followed her abroad just to party. Even if they were just fair-weather friends who cut ties after the bankruptcy, it was impossible that she had been alone for the previous few years.

Lu Zhiyao hoped Duan Zishu would stop complaining; she didn’t really want to hear it. But she also wanted the other to say a few more words, so that she could comfort her.

“Can’t I go sleep in the bed?”

“It’s not that you can’t,” Lu Zhiyao said again, but the condition had changed. “If I feel happy about it.”

Compared to the arduous condition of “splitting household expenses,” letting Lu Zhiyao “feel happy” seemed much broader. It was as if she had already softened her heart but refused to immediately let her guard down.

Right? Who wouldn’t feel their heart soften looking at a Duan Zishu like this?

“When do you feel happy?”

Lu Zhiyao smiled and said nothing. She thought of the Duan Zishu from high school—the Duan Zishu she had loved so, so much. Even setting aside her identity as an heiress, her senior was someone to be admired; she played the piano beautifully, and even after abandoning it to study art, she made rapid progress. Back then, Duan Zishu often presided over important galas as a student representative. Every move, every word—she was poised and at ease. As a group leader, she had never shown timidity in the face of others’ stares.

Wait until you recover from the effects of the bankruptcy. Wait until you reclaim the skills you gave up. Wait until you are like you were back then—traversing through that crowd of unlearned, debauched youths, standing head and shoulders above them all.

Even if she were a bit arrogant, or even a little annoying—that was fine. A young miss is a young miss; she was born to be that way.

“Sleep, goodnight.”

I’m not the type to order around an adult on how to live their life, Lu Zhiyao thought. Even if she wanted Duan Zishu to be more obedient, better behaved, and more dependent on her, she didn’t harbor any dark intentions. Life isn’t a novel; where would there be so many pathological control freaks?

Don’t overthink it.

Lu Zhiyao just hoped Duan Zishu could live well again, just like before. As an adult, at least one should be self-sufficient, right?

She made Duan Zishu work and comforted her by setting aside her own prejudices against alcohol—as a friend, this was the kind of thoughtfulness that could make someone a lifelong confidante, right?

Even if, at first, she had been happy upon realizing Duan Zishu was no longer the unattainable figure she once was—that shameful, dark joy of reveling in someone else’s bankruptcy was wrong—but judging by actions rather than intentions, Lu Zhiyao hadn’t done anything excessive. She even wanted to help the other restore her former state.

Hoping for her to be obedient was just a boost on the road to recovery; Lu Zhiyao didn’t want Duan Zishu to be a submissive puppy.

“What about the goodnight kiss?”

A goodnight kiss, of course, she could give one. After so many years apart, the sense of distance between them was finally disappearing, wasn’t it?

Lu Zhiyao picked up a strand of Duan Zishu’s hair and pressed a light kiss to the tip.

I am a gentle person, Lu Zhiyao thought. Even toward an ex-girlfriend who had broken up with her in such an unseemly way, she was still willing to patiently accept her.

Once Duan Zishu shook off these shadows, the alcohol addiction, and all the other messy things, adapted to her new identity, and walked out from the effects of the bankruptcy—well, as Duan Zishu had said, reconciliation wasn’t entirely out of the question.