I Woke Up And My Girlfriend Was Gone - Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Zuo Yin had been working part-time at this 24-hour convenience store, not far from her home, ever since her high school entrance exams ended.

The store manager was an easy-going woman. Having suffered losses on fresh bento boxes before, she instituted a policy: unsold bentos would be discounted two hours before their expiration time and discarded after thirty minutes.

For Zuo Yin, this was a perfect way to save money.

“Go ahead and pick one you like,” the manager said, leaning over and poking half her head out to speak to Zuo Yin.

“Thanks, Sis,” Zuo Yin thanked her as usual. She chose a reasonably sized bento, paid half-price, and headed toward the microwave.

After a few crisp beeps, the microwave began to hum loudly.

Zuo Yin stood quietly in front of the counter waiting for her dinner, mentally calculating the extra money she would earn from filling in for a shift and the night-shift premium. Subtracting her daily expenses, this overtime pay would allow her to indulge slightly in better food.

But…

The image of that painting she saw at the art exhibition this morning—the one that bore an uncanny resemblance to Shen Qingzi’s style—flashed through her mind again.

She really wanted to see it one more time. She truly felt it looked exactly like Shen Qingzi’s work.

Zuo Yin bit her inner lip. Her earlier relaxation turned into a struggle over whether to buy another ticket to go back in. A ticket cost a hundred yuan, or seventy with a student ID. It was a deal, but not cheap. If she didn’t buy it, she could afford several meals of rice with chicken legs; if she did, life next week would be a bit tight.

The microwave beeped. Charred chicken cutlets rested atop sesame-sprinkled rice, flanked by small side dishes of shredded potatoes and crisp cucumbers. The steam, mixed with the chime, awakened the dazing girl.

The bento was still steaming when she pulled it out, and Zuo Yin was already shoveling rice into her mouth with her chopsticks.

Though the manager never rushed her, Zuo Yin had her own sense of discipline. Unlike the white-collar workers from the building next door, she didn’t have the luxury of a leisurely meal. The inventory work after her shift change was only half done; it wasn’t time for her break yet.

“Don’t rush, eat slowly,” the manager urged as she watched Zuo Yin sitting to the side. “You’re young, but don’t push yourself so hard.”

With that, the manager picked up a small carton of yogurt, inserted the straw in front of Zuo Yin, and handed it over. “My treat.”

Zuo Yin couldn’t refuse. She took it and said, “Thanks, Sis.”

“In a few days, I’ll set aside some of those jam buns you like. Remember to be good to yourself,” the manager said, patting Zuo Yin on the shoulder before leaving.

Zuo Yin swirled the cool yogurt in her palm, sipping it while quickly finishing the rest of the bento. Sometimes, she felt this unheated 24-hour store was much warmer than her so-called home.

The bright fluorescent lights illuminated the girl’s stoic profile. Standing not far away, Shen Qingzi could clearly see the exhaustion etched in her eyes.

Those slender, fan-bone-like hands gripped the disposable chopsticks, her knuckles still tinted with a frostbitten red that hadn’t quite thawed. She was dressed thinly, her frame slight; the apron easily cinched her slender waistline.

Shen Qingzi felt an inexplicable pang in her heart. She stood behind the furthest row of shelves, her feet rooted to the spot for a long time.

Soon, Zuo Yin finished her meal, tidied the counter, and returned to the shelves where she had paused her inventory work.

Just then, another boy finished his count and strolled over to Zuo Yin with his clipboard. “Haven’t seen you in a while. I thought you’d struck it rich and quit the part-time gig.”

Zuo Yin glanced at him. “I haven’t won the lottery.”

“But you’re a great artist! Selling one painting should cover a month’s living expenses, right?” the boy teased without malice.

“You buying?” Zuo Yin retorted.

The boy grinned, his curly hair bouncing like a giant Golden Retriever’s. “I’ll buy it! If you’re willing to sell to me, Xiao Yin, I’ll buy it.”

Zuo Yin’s brow furrowed slightly as she recalled the unpleasantness with Zuo Lan. She said coldly, “I’m not selling.”

“Tsk, why not? You’ll have to sell eventually. You’re a top student in the Oil Painting Department; once you graduate, people will be fighting to buy your work,” the boy continued, calculating with mock seriousness. “If I buy low now, I can make a fortune when you’re famous! Don’t forget me when you’re rich!”

“In your dreams,” Zuo Yin replied curtly, turning to another shelf with her list.

The boy put on an exaggerated look of hurt. Just as he looked up to find Zuo Yin, he spotted Shen Qingzi at the far end, who had been watching them. Feeling like a caught thief, Shen Qingzi quickly looked down, pretending to browse. She hurriedly dropped several items into her basket without even knowing what they were.

She had heard the entire conversation. An undercurrent of emotion swirled through her.

Zuo Yin is also a student in the Oil Painting Department. Zuo Yin is also extremely resistant to selling her work.

At that moment, handmade jam buns with pretty bows caught Shen Qingzi’s eye. She remembered the manager’s words: “I’ll set aside some of those jam buns you like.”

Shen Qingzi instinctively reached for a pack of handmade strawberry jam buns and checked the expiration date. Twenty days total, with one week remaining. So that’s why she’s leaving them for her in a few days, Shen Qingzi thought.

Her grip on her yogurt bottle tightened, and the undercurrent in her heart turned bittersweet.

While Zuo Yin wasn’t looking, Shen Qingzi went to the checkout. She didn’t put back any of the items she had mindlessly grabbed. After paying, the manager packed them into a large bag.

Shen Qingzi looked at the pile, took out the one bottle of yogurt she actually needed, and said to the manager, “Could you please give these to Zuo Yin when she finishes her shift?”

The manager was surprised. “You know Xiao Yin?”

“I am her teacher,” Shen Qingzi lied without blinking.

Shen Qingzi had a pleasant, refined voice that sounded exactly like a teacher’s. The manager didn’t doubt her and beamed. “Oh, I see! Thank you, Teacher. Our Xiao Yin has had a hard life; having a teacher like you is truly her blessing!”

Shen Qingzi smiled faintly and headed for the door. Though she had told herself she wouldn’t see the girl again, she couldn’t help but look back one last time. The “Golden Retriever” boy was still chatting away behind Zuo Yin, his large frame casting a shadow over her thin figure, which looked fragile enough to snap at any moment.

Shen Qingzi recalled the girl’s shoulder blades she had touched that night—who could have known that such beauty and lightness hid such a bitter life? Feeling as if she’d been struck by a whip, Shen Qingzi hurried back to her car.

A bright flash of headlights cut through the darkness in front of the store. Having finished her inventory, Zuo Yin looked out the window just in time to see Shen Qingzi’s car pulling away. Through layers of glass, only a blurry silhouette remained in her sight.

It felt strange yet familiar. Zuo Yin’s heart skipped a beat.

The manager waved Zuo Yin over excitedly. “Xiao Yin, come here! Your teacher just bought these for you!”

“Teacher?”

Zuo Yin looked at the pineapple jam bun resting on top of the large bag of food, filled with confusion. She looked out the window, but only a night breeze swirling fallen leaves across the empty square remained. Shen Qingzi had left no clue behind.

…

As the sunset stained the sky red, the week’s classes finally ended.

As soon as the bell rang, everyone rushed out in search of freedom. Zuo Yin moved through the crowd in her pilled coat, walking quickly toward the art exhibition.

Because of the food left by the “anonymous kind teacher,” Zuo Yin had spent almost nothing this week besides buying paint. She had exactly seventy yuan left in her pocket. It felt as though destiny was guiding her to see that painting one more time.

She bought her ticket and entered, moving against the flow of the crowd toward the alumni gallery, which was nearly deserted.

She hadn’t timed it perfectly; an old man in a simple undershirt with a white beard was standing directly in front of the painting she longed for, leisurely waving a fan.

“Young student, why have you come here to look at paintings?” the old man asked, snapping his fan shut with a flourish and questioning her kindly.

“Fewer people,” Zuo Yin answered simply.

The old man’s expression grew serious. “Fewer people is not a good reason.”

“Mm.” Zuo Yin wasn’t in the habit of chatting with strangers. She kept a cold face, focusing only on the art.

The old man found her interesting. He moved aside slightly and asked, “You like this one?”

“Mm.” Another simple syllable.

The old man smiled as he watched Zuo Yin unapologetically take the spot he had vacated. Seemingly unfazed by her coldness, he asked, “What’s so good about this? Look at how the top and bottom halves are so disconnected; it lacks a harmonious essence.”

“That’s because this was painted by two different people,” Zuo Yin replied.

“Different people?” The old man’s playful tone vanished.

Zuo Yin glanced at him and pointed to the middle-left section of the canvas. “This area is more harmonious. Few people can supplement colors so precisely while maintaining a personal style… Surely, Professor Xu Ji couldn’t have missed that.”

Xu Ji froze, rubbing his balding head. “Ha! Was it that easy for you to recognize me?”

Zuo Yin looked at him helplessly, her eyes seemingly asking: What do you think? The photo in the lecture hall wasn’t a fake. Even if it was heavily edited, how could an art student not recognize him?

Xu Ji laughed heartily, waving his fan. “Then, young student, tell me—who is this ‘anonymous’ person? From your tone, it sounds like you’ve recognized them too?”

Zuo Yin looked at the painting again. Her pressed lips parted slightly as she said with certainty, “Shen Qingzi.”

The small hall fell silent. Xu Ji looked the student up and down before snapping his fan open again. “Child, you certainly have sharp eyes! Hahaha…”

“Professor, even if this is your own exhibition, you shouldn’t be so undisciplined.”

Before Zuo Yin could react to Xu Ji’s laughter, a cold yet gentle voice—like the Crescent Moon Spring beneath the Singing Sand Dunes, splashing down with an air of ethereal sunlight—reached her ears.

If Zuo Yin had ever imagined meeting Shen Qingzi again, she never expected it would be under these circumstances.