How Did The Young Lady Go Bankrupt? - Chapter 9

“Lu Zhiyao, when will it be done?”

Duan Zishu had asked for the umpteenth time.

“It’ll be done when it’s done,” Lu Zhiyao replied, almost as if she were a triggered automated response.

“You cannot just evade the question.”

“I prefer to call it ‘rich in philosophical insight,'” Lu Zhiyao said, scooping up a piece of potato to taste it. She smacked her lips twice: “Don’t you get it? Go meditate on that.”

“Lu Zhiyao, is it possible that you actually don’t know when it will be done?” Duan Zishu asked. “Otherwise, why do you keep tasting it?”

Lu Zhiyao coughed twice: “A cook who doesn’t sneak a taste is a cook who doesn’t harvest the grain. Alright, alright, it’s ready to eat.”

She brought the food to the table. Duan Zishu pulled out a chair to sit, but stopped halfway, stiffening for a moment before continuing. “My back hurts so much,” she said. “Lu Zhiyao, do you earn enough money to see a doctor later?”

Lu Zhiyao was stunned. She finally understood why, when she complained to her grandmother about being dizzy and exhausted from weaving baskets as a child, her grandmother had scolded her for lacking exercise instead of mentioning the hardships of the work.

It was because the wound had been poked, yet there was no way to change the reality of needing to do work that wore down the body, so one simply talked about other things.

As a child, Lu Zhiyao had hated that kind of answer. She was so tired precisely because she was working to make money; why did she have to be scolded for it, too?

“You lack exercise,” Lu Zhiyao replied.

Duan Zishu looked slightly unconvinced. She began to argue how this employment system was unreasonable, and how shaking bubble tea for a lifetime would never lead to becoming a boss. Whether viewed as an investment or a transitional period, it was utterly meaningless.

“Then, why not go paint?”

The atmosphere suddenly fell silent.

“Why not use your major for a job that is decent, has room for growth, and allows for major achievements?”

Lu Zhiyao had seen Duan Zishu’s paintings before.

She wasn’t a professional and couldn’t judge technical quality, but the level of skill from a few years ago was enough to leave someone like Lu Zhiyao, a layperson, in awe. She felt that with an art major, as long as one could attract those who didn’t know the industry, it was more than enough as a means of earning a living.

Lu Zhiyao noticed the change in Duan Zishu’s breathing. Her chest heaved more noticeably; she was taking forceful, heavy deep breaths, and the pace was gradually accelerating. Her fingertips, gripping the chopsticks, turned white—she was clearly exerting force.

Bad memories, psychological trauma, and anxiety. Lu Zhiyao was no stranger to this state. If anything, as a modern human, if one had never experienced such emotions, one wouldn’t know how they’d grown up at all.

Duan Zishu said, “I will never paint again.”

This reminded Lu Zhiyao of the “I will never play the piano again” line from high school. It was the same tone. However, it was clear that something much more profound was affecting her. Duan Zishu’s brow furrowed, and her fingers even trembled slightly.

“I can’t paint. I can never paint again.”

Looking at it this way, there were definitely signs of this early on, Lu Zhiyao thought. Duan Zishu had been abroad for four or five years; logically, she should have graduated from university long before going broke. The fact that she only had a high school diploma must have had certain reasons behind it.

Lu Zhiyao felt a pang of regret. It was true that she wanted to know why Duan Zishu didn’t paint anymore, but she hadn’t intended for it to involve anything that couldn’t be discussed. She shouldn’t have brought it up at the dinner table; Lu Zhiyao just wanted to eat a nice meal.

But looking at the situation now, it was no longer appropriate to pretend she hadn’t heard anything and just keep eating.

Lu Zhiyao felt it was a hassle. She didn’t want to hear those bitter, deep-seated reasons, because her mother was just like that—devastated by a blow and never recovering. Every time her mother drank, looking back on the past as if that incident were some unspeakable, ancient secret, she would ponder it. In reality, her mother was quite willing to tell that story—over and over again. Perhaps savoring past blows was a form of narcissism unique to those who had suffered setbacks.

But Lu Zhiyao asked anyway: “What happened?”

Duan Zishu looked over, using those eyes of hers that were as full of storytelling as ever.

“I…” she began, hesitating. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Unh-huh,” Lu Zhiyao merely hummed, her tone ambiguous.

Usually, when someone says they don’t want to talk, it’s just because the atmosphere isn’t right yet. If they poured two glasses of wine and she offered a few gentle, soothing words, what couldn’t be said? After all, her mother never missed an opportunity to talk about how she had been squeezed out and forced to leave in disgrace all those years ago.

The tips of Duan Zishu’s ears turned slightly red.

“If it’s you, then it’s not entirely impossible to talk about,” she said slowly. “If you are willing…”

“Then forget it,” Lu Zhiyao said briskly.

Duan Zishu blinked. If there had been a tragic background soundtrack playing, it would have stopped abruptly.

“You cannot just rush to a conclusion without hearing the conditions, Lu Zhiyao,” Duan Zishu said, her expression serious. “Whether in social interactions or business negotiations, it is unwise to draw conclusions before making a full assessment.”

Lu Zhiyao laughed heartily: “I respect your secrets.”

Duan Zishu pursed her lips, looking straight at her, her gaze intense. If only she could make a more adorable expression—like Little Zhang, who would comically puff up her cheeks and pout left and right when she was annoyed. But the “young miss” clearly wouldn’t make an expression that broke her character, just as an emperor, no matter how much he enjoyed the company of his people, wouldn’t go out into the street and shatter a boulder on his chest.

Lu Zhiyao suddenly felt a strong urge to tease her. If she knew how to wink, she definitely would have winked at Duan Zishu. Unfortunately, she didn’t; winking felt like a cramp in her eyelid.

Soon, Duan Zishu gave up on conveying information through her gaze. She looked down and poured cola into her glass, swirling it. The tragic background music began to play again.

“The winters in the north are very cold,” she said.

“Wash that glass yourself,” Lu Zhiyao replied.

Duan Zishu kept her head low, but her eyes lifted to look at her; those downturned eyes looked pitiful now.

Lu Zhiyao pretended not to see, and Duan Zishu could only continue eating. Even though her expression didn’t change, Lu Zhiyao knew she was feeling low.

Although she kept pretending to ignore her, as she finished eating and stood up to leave, Lu Zhiyao lightly patted Duan Zishu on the shoulder. She didn’t pause at all, as if she were just passing by accidentally.

She did, however, leave behind a single sentence: “It’s okay, I’ll wait for you.”

She heard the sound of the glass touching the table. Generally speaking, Duan Zishu’s upbringing wouldn’t have allowed her to make such a loud noise.

I know exactly what these frustrated, downtrodden people want.

This will hook you for good.

In high school, her eyes were filled with nothing but Duan Zishu. Even after the breakup, when Duan Zishu suddenly showed up at her door, she had been too surprised to regain her senses, leading to her being led by the nose. Duan Zishu’s annoying habits couldn’t be changed overnight, and her body was fragile; she was going to be running back and forth, dealing with all the trouble.

This is so wrong; I’m not the one who needs help.

Lu Zhiyao wasn’t agonizing over trying to make Duan Zishu like her more; she couldn’t think of an outcome regarding whether or not they would get back together, so she simply didn’t think about it at all. Maintaining the status quo like this was pretty good anyway.

She acted this way simply because she felt that in the future, Duan Zishu would be more obedient.