I Woke Up And My Girlfriend Was Gone - Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Shen Qingzi spoke casually, but Zuo Yin felt as if a thousand pounds were pressing against her chest.

“I was adopted from an orphanage by Dean Shen when I was five. It was because of him that my path was smooth and successful until I was eighteen.”

As Zuo Yin listened, images of Shen Qingzi she had seen in magazines flashed through her mind.

At sixteen, with her intense Mucha-style oil painting The Garden, she swept gold awards at major domestic art exhibitions and made a name for herself in the world of oil painting. At eighteen, she released Winter Snow. Due to its even more sophisticated technique and vision, it caused a sensation both at home and abroad, winning gold awards at every major art exhibition that year and ultimately being collected by the Italian National Museum.

“But it was also at that time that, due to my negligence, Xiao Yue fell into the rushing icy water. Although I saved her, her health deteriorated drastically, and she was confined to a sickbed for years.”

Zuo Yin heard a slight tremor in Shen Qingzi’s voice. For some reason, her own heart vibrated in sync with the woman’s emotions. She interrupted Shen Qingzi, asking urgently, “What about you, Teacher? Were you hurt?”

“I was fine. I had a strong constitution…”

Hearing this, Zuo Yin frowned. She wasn’t fine at all. Her slender frame looked as if it could be blown away by the wind at any moment. Zuo Yin suddenly remembered the unease on Shen Qingzi’s face at the cinema when Amy fell into the water. It wasn’t just pure empathy; that scene had triggered a terrifying memory she didn’t want to revisit.

“I’m telling you this because I didn’t want you to hear about my past from someone else,” Shen Qingzi answered softly. The car stopped at a red light, and the brilliant sunlight spilled in with a touch of warmth.

Zuo Yin felt a surge of happiness. Such scars should be hidden deep in the heart, never revealed to outsiders. Yet, Shen Qingzi was willing to share them with her. Though she stood on unequal footing with Shen Qingzi, she was being granted the right to draw closer, step by step.

On the crosswalk ahead, an older sister held her younger sister’s hand, laughing as they crossed. Shen Qingzi watched them, a faint smile appearing on her face. She looked down at the half-black butterfly on her finger and showed it to Zuo Yin. “Look, Xiao Yue made me get this tattoo with her after she found out I wasn’t our parents’ biological child.”

“As you know, Xiao Yue passed away five years ago. This butterfly is all I have left of my sister.” Shen Qingzi started the car, her eyes filled with an unreadable emotion.

Zuo Yin was sensitive to the “five years” mark, as it was also when The Flower House Girl was released—the year Shen Qingzi began to fade from the public eye.

“So…” Zuo Yin speculated cautiously.

Shen Qingzi nodded, confirming her thoughts. “It caused quite a stir in the circle back then. But as time passed, the matter faded from view. Very few people know now.”

With one answer came another question: if very few people knew, how did students like Zhang Zhang—who were only in their early teens back then—know about these past events?

The shadows of trees flickered as sunlight flashed in Zuo Yin’s eyes. She suddenly realized and looked at Shen Qingzi. “Is it Chen Yi? Did he…”

Shen Qingzi neither nodded nor shook her head. She only cautioned, “Xiao Yin, there will be more rumors lately. Protect yourself. Don’t act impulsively on my behalf.”

Zuo Yin, naturally, refused. This whole thing started because of her; she couldn’t just stand by and watch.

“No,” Zuo Yin said firmly. “You cleared my demerit, took me in when I was homeless, and helped me so much. I will do everything I can to make those people shut up.”

She had defended Shen Qingzi when they were strangers; now, with the bond they shared, she would never choose silence for her own safety.

The car entered the studio driveway. The rose vines on the trellis had been trimmed, and the withered leaves crunched under the tires—a sound that echoed the impact of Zuo Yin’s words on Shen Qingzi.

Shen Qingzi parked and said to the girl beside her, “Those were just small gestures. They aren’t worth you doing this.”

They went up to the second floor. Zuo Yin noticed a brand-new easel in the painting area and a perfectly organized cabinet.

“I prepared this for you. Are you satisfied?” Shen Qingzi stood by the easel.

“Satisfied” didn’t even cover it. The paints arranged neatly were high-end brands Zuo Yin could never afford. The brushes were soft yet firm, with delicate patterns carved into the handles. Zuo Yin’s finger grazed the bristles, the slight prickling sensation sparking a fire in her heart.

She put the brush down and said resolutely, “If those were ‘small gestures’ for you, then defending you is a ‘small gesture’ for me too.”

Shen Qingzi looked at her with surprise. The girl stood tall, as if nothing could break her. “Xiao Yin, I don’t want you to suffer the same criticism I do. You are my student; I want you to stay ‘clean’ and cherish your reputation.”

“You also said I don’t have to live up to your expectations,” Zuo Yin countered. She wasn’t a white swan from a pure world; her feathers were already stained by the mud she grew up in. She wasn’t afraid of more dirt.

Shen Qingzi saw right through her. The girl’s eyes were as pure as black pearls. That was exactly why she was worried; she couldn’t bear to see Zuo Yin tainted by this filth.

“This storm will pass soon, Xiao Yin. Aside from attacking my birth, they have nothing else against me.” Shen Qingzi walked over to a painting—the one Zuo Yin had glimpsed a part of at the exhibition. It depicted realistic flowers in magnificent colors, with roses and thorny vines entwining a girl. The girl’s eyes weren’t full of despair, but hope.

“Remember, a painter’s weapon is never their mouth, but the brush in their hand,” Shen Qingzi said thoughtfully. “I will make them shut up. Don’t worry.”

…

Early winter. The red and white carp in the pond hid under the duckweed, blowing bubbles. Suddenly, as if sensing something, it flicked its tail and rose to the surface. Nearby, the teaching building began to empty as students flooded out.

Zuo Yin carried two bags—hers and Yuan Yuan’s—and walked against the crowd into the building for the next class.

“Xiao Yin! Over here!” Yuan Yuan called out from the fourth row. Zuo Yin sat down next to her.

“Thanks!” Yuan Yuan smiled and pushed a small bread roll toward her. “For you.”

“Thanks.” Zuo Yin was actually quite hungry.

“Bread? I want some too!” Xu Xu reached over with a grin. As the friends joked, a boy behind them suddenly shouted, “Holy crap!”

The exclamation seemed contagious. After a second of silence, the same two words erupted across the room—except for Zuo Yin, who was busy with her English preview.

“Xiao Yin! Your Teacher Shen won another award!”

Before Zuo Yin could react, Yuan Yuan thrust her phone forward. The campus news was exploding. A bold headline took up the entire page:

[Shen Qingzi Breaks Five-Year Silence, Wins Gold at the Italian National Art Exhibition Again]

Zuo Yin blinked in disbelief, a surge of overwhelming joy washing over her brain and heart. This was the “weapon” Shen Qingzi had mentioned. Using her work to speak was indeed the most powerful way to silence all rumors.

She really is Shen Qingzi.

Just then, the phone in her pocket vibrated. The name “Shen Qingzi” jumped onto the screen, tapping right against her heartbeat.