I Woke Up And My Girlfriend Was Gone - Chapter 14

Chapter 14

A sliver of light snuck through the gap where the two bed curtains met, illuminating Zuo Yin’s narrow but clean little bed. Sitting barefoot on the school-issued blue-and-white checkered sheets, she clearly saw the three small characters “Shen Qingzi” displayed on the screen, which was marred by several cracks.

Without hesitation, Zuo Yin tapped “Accept.”

The light fell squarely on her face, seemingly melting the icy expression her cheeks usually wore. Sometimes, a sense of security is nothing more than those three words. Zuo Yin finally felt grounded; she could proudly announce to herself that she had truly been accepted by Shen Qingzi.

Almost immediately, the system’s automated greeting was followed by a message from Shen Qingzi. Zuo Yin didn’t exit the chat. It was as if she were waiting for her; even while making her bed, she kept turning back to glance at the glowing phone screen.

However, Shen Qingzi seemed to have added her just to be there. She lay quietly at the very top of the friend list, saying nothing.

Zuo Yin felt a momentary hollow in her chest. Leaning against the wall, she stared at the empty dialogue box. A round, white puffball icon was stuck in the upper left corner. Zuo Yin couldn’t resist clicking it, and Shen Qingzi’s profile card popped up.

Looking at the enlarged avatar, Zuo Yin finally recognized a pair of pinkish-white long ears atop the white ball.

So, it’s a rabbit? Does she like rabbits?

Looking at the gray-and-white lop-eared rabbit in the nickname, Zuo Yin inexplicably began to project the image of a rabbit onto Shen Qingzi. Pink and white, soft to the touch.

As she thought this, Zuo Yin’s hand instinctively curled. The empty air in her palm reminded her of that night—of the many times she had held that exceptionally soft, snowy whiteness. Shen Qingzi had been like a docile rabbit in her arms, her long arms draped over Zuo Yin’s shoulders, her slow, warm breath puffing against Zuo Yin’s bare neck, sending a wave of numbness through her.

Buzz… buzz…

A string of micro-vibrations from the phone jolted Zuo Yin out of the memory. Her startled heart thundered. She pressed the back of her hand against her burning cheek and opened the message notification. Instantly, her face burned even hotter.

[Shen Qingzi: Good evening.]

[Good evening.] Zuo Yin felt as though she’d been caught red-handed. She had to type those three simple words four times before getting them right.

[Shen Qingzi: Are you busy?]

Based on Zuo Yin’s years of part-time experience, this opening usually meant the other person wanted a favor. Normally, Zuo Yin would stall and wait for the other person to speak first, but this time was an exception.

[No. Is something the matter?]

Almost the next second, she received an emoji from Shen Qingzi: [Coax me.] (A little penguin pouting in anger).

Zuo Yin froze. She stared at the cracked screen, watching the penguin pout, unsure of how to react. No one had ever sent her an emoji like this. She didn’t know if she should reach out and “rub” Shen Qingzi’s head like other girls might.

Fortunately, Shen Qingzi broke the silence in the next second. [Since you aren’t busy, why didn’t you take the initiative to add me? Did you have to wait for your teacher to add you first?]

Perhaps because of the previous emoji, Zuo Yin didn’t find the words accusatory. Instead, they sounded a bit petulant. Thinking that the serious, gentle woman she knew also had this side to her, Zuo Yin let out a soft, breathy laugh.

[Sorry, I forgot.]

…

Huge floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the bustling cityscape below. Flickering lights floated on the dark land like fallen stars. Amidst this starlight was a woman’s languid silhouette. Her slender, well-proportioned legs were propped up on the sofa. Water droplets clung to her long, smooth hair, which fell over a soft towel draped across her shoulders.

Shen Qingzi rested her chin in one hand while looking at Zuo Yin’s lukewarm reply, her brow twitching with slight dissatisfaction. She had intended to tease the child to close the awkward gap between them. Who knew the kid was so “boring”? Not only did she not use emojis to “battle” like Sun Yuqing, but her replies were incredibly formal.

Shen Qingzi sat up, putting aside her playful mood. [Are you free tomorrow?]

[Yes.]

Seeing the “Yes” sent within seconds, Shen Qingzi considered for a moment. [Come to the studio tomorrow. I’ll show you around and help you get familiar with your future working environment. What time are you free?]

Zuo Yin was about to reply “anytime,” but then she realized that openly admitting she’d skip class to her teacher might not be a good look. She answered honestly: [I have no classes during the first period in the morning and the second period in the afternoon. I’m free then.]

Shen Qingzi thought it over. [Let’s make it the afternoon. 4:30. No need to rush.]

[Okay.]

Another single word.

Shen Qingzi looked at the two small blocky dialogue boxes next to Zuo Yin’s avatar. Her eyes crinkled. Beyond the dissatisfaction, there was mostly indulgence for the child. For a child to grow up so well in a place like that… it’s already quite remarkable.

Just then, two messages came in succession from Zuo Yin: [This is my class schedule. In the future, if you need anything, Teacher, you can call me anytime. I’m on call 24/7.]

Looking at the simple, clearly marked schedule, Shen Qingzi could almost see the quiet girl standing before her, expressing her sincerity in her own way. She long-pressed the image to save it. [Good. I’ll also quickly work out a schedule for the two of us.]

The words “the two of us” seemed to grow larger and bolder in Zuo Yin’s eyes. It felt as if thousands of invisible bonds were being cast from those words, turning into silk threads that tightly bound together two people who should have remained strangers.

The dream Zuo Yin had chased for three or four years had become reality. She had finally met the person she had longed for and had even become her student. Though her feet were on a solid bedframe, it felt like she was walking on clouds. Every step was a mix of reality and illusion.

…

The next afternoon, the sun leaned westward. The wind brushed the cypress trees in front of the Yiji Studio, shaking loose withered leaves onto the busy street. Zuo Yin walked in a hurry, stepping on a leaf without noticing.

She had changed clothes today: a thin purple hoodie under a silver-and-black baseball jacket with an extravagant tiger head embroidered on the back. Zuo Lan had bought it for her, claiming it wasn’t cheap. Zuo Yin was skeptical but rarely wore it.

Following her memory, she arrived at Shen Qingzi’s private studio—a small western-style building with a full wall of glass, lit by the evening sun and swaying floral shadows. Shen Qingzi was standing behind a bar on the first floor, wearing a simple white long-sleeved dress.

The lush garden surrounding the building framed Shen Qingzi’s figure into several “snapshots,” each one a perfect view. Noticing the visitor, Shen Qingzi turned around in the hazy light. Her expression was neutral, like greeting an old friend. She pointed to the door and mouthed: “Come in.”

Zuo Yin averted her gaze slightly, nodded, and strode into the studio. The studio was simple, even a bit empty. The sound of coffee beans being ground echoed in the quiet room, adding a touch of evening tranquility.

“That was fast,” Shen Qingzi remarked. She checked her watch; it was only 4:15, less than fifteen minutes after Zuo Yin’s class ended.

“The commute was smooth,” Zuo Yin said dismissively, as if she hadn’t just sprinted out of the back of the classroom.

“Hungry? Want some afternoon tea first?” Shen Qingzi took two small, exquisite cakes out of the fridge.

“Thanks.” Zuo Yin wasn’t used to just receiving. She asked, “Is there anything I can help with?”

“Once the beans are ground, bring them over to me.” Shen Qingzi placed several items Zuo Yin didn’t recognize on the other side of the bar.

Zuo Yin stood by the grinder, waiting. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Shen Qingzi. She saw Shen Qingzi take a piece of filter paper, fold it deftly into a funnel, and place it over a coffee pot. Steam rose as she used a slender silver kettle to dampen the dry filter. Her hand was incredibly steady; the water flowed in a perfect parabola, poured slowly without a single ripple. Zuo Yin had worked in coffee shops, but she had never seen hands as steady and practiced as Shen Qingzi’s.

As the last drop fell, the grinder stopped. Zuo Yin lifted and pried the grounds loose with ease.

Observing her movements, Shen Qingzi asked, “Have you worked in a coffee shop before?”

“Yes.” Zuo Yin handed over the grounds.

Shen Qingzi didn’t take them. Instead, she gestured to her. “Then smell them. What do you think of these beans?”

Seeing the expectation in Shen Qingzi’s eyes, Zuo Yin lowered her head. She took a light sniff. The aroma was rich but not harsh—a mellow bitterness mixed with a sharp, clear fragrance. It was high-end stuff she had never encountered.

Zuo Yin looked up, only to find a bright smile on Shen Qingzi’s face. The setting sun slanted into the large room, blurring everything else in her vision. Shen Qingzi leaned forward, her loose sleeve sliding down her arm. That half-black butterfly flapped its wings in Zuo Yin’s sight once more.

It was like a dream she didn’t want to escape.

“A-Zi, I heard Xiao Yin was coming—”

Just then, the heavy door was pushed open from the outside, and Sun Yuqing poked half her body in.