I Woke Up And My Girlfriend Was Gone - Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Warm, white condensation clung to the clean glass window, forming beads of water that slid slowly downward. Inside a small, cream-colored clay pot, a batch of thick white congee simmered, bubbles popping with a steady glug-glug.

It was the weekend. Zuo Yin had returned from school and was in the kitchen brewing this stomach-soothing congee for Zuo Lan.

Two days had passed since the incident. Zuo Yin hadn’t gone to the studio, and Shen Qingzi seemed to have evaporated from her world, never appearing again.

The rising steam blurred Zuo Yin’s eyes. Through the white mist, her mind was filled with Shen Qingzi. She remembered that a long time ago, Shen Qingzi had brewed a similar congee for her—though it had been more refined. Zuo Yin had studied the process for a long time on her own but could never perfectly replicate Shen Qingzi’s method.

It was just like the painting she had created following in her footsteps.

“One day, you will surpass me.”

Shen Qingzi’s words on the escalator still echoed in her ears, yet now, they were distanced by that reckless kiss under the moonlight. A wave of bitterness rose in Zuo Yin’s heart. This must be what Zuo Lan often meant by saying the world is unpredictable.

“What are you thinking about?”

Suddenly, Zuo Lan’s sharp voice pierced through Zuo Yin’s memories, snapping her back to reality.

“Mom?” Zuo Yin looked up abruptly. Zuo Lan was standing behind her with her hands behind her back.

“It’s boiling over,” Zuo Lan pointed to the clay pot.

The congee, which had been resting quietly a moment ago, was now bubbling restlessly, rising up like a puffy mushroom. Seeing it about to spill, Zuo Yin quickly turned the heat to low and used a wooden spoon to stir it slowly and evenly. Within moments, the pot returned to a quiet simmer.

Seeing that the crisis had passed, Zuo Lan curled her lip and grumbled, “Honestly, I ask you to make me lunch, and you nearly set my kitchen on fire.”

Zuo Yin looked at the small pot and retorted, “I made this for you every day when you were in the hospital. I didn’t see the kitchen burn down then.”

“I’m starting to doubt that now,” Zuo Lan said, looking up and making a show of searching for scorched marks in the kitchen.

Zuo Yin ignored her. While stirring the congee with one hand, she poured in finely chopped mushrooms and minced meat with the other. Soon, the savory aroma of the mushrooms and marinated meat began to waft through the air.

Zuo Lan leaned in closer. “Smells good.”

“It’s not done yet.” Zuo Yin lightly blocked Zuo Lan as she tried to peer in.

“Stingy,” Zuo Lan remarked, picking up a washed cucumber from the counter. “Didn’t you used to go to that studio every Saturday? Why aren’t you going this week?”

The question poked right at the thorn in Zuo Yin’s heart. She frowned slightly but smoothed her expression quickly. “Don’t you have a follow-up appointment today?”

Zuo Lan arched an eyebrow, a hint of delight appearing on her face. “Well, aren’t I important then?”

Zuo Yin gave a muffled “Mhm.”

The cucumber was crisp, making a loud crunch-crunch sound as Zuo Lan chewed. After several months of recovery, her complexion looked better than it had in twenty years. With the heater running high, she wore only a slim-fitting long sweater dress, which made her figure look fuller and healthier.

“Actually, it’s been so long and I feel fine. I don’t think we need the follow-up. It’s a waste of money,” Zuo Lan argued.

Zuo Yin didn’t give her a chance to retreat. “We’re going.”

Zuo Lan continued, “I’ve quit drinking. Look, I didn’t even touch a drop during the holidays. We should save where we can.”

Zuo Yin stirred the congee slowly and exposed her remorselessly. “There haven’t been any holidays in the last few months.”

“Does Christmas not count?” Zuo Lan barked back.

Hearing this forced logic, Zuo Yin looked up at her but said nothing. Her dark pupils held no words, yet they were intimidating. Zuo Lan felt that her daughter had been in a foul mood since she returned yesterday, so she decided it was best not to provoke her further. “Fine, we’ll go. Honestly…”

With that, Zuo Lan tossed the half-eaten cucumber into the trash and fled to the living room.

The kitchen fell silent, the blue flame gently simmering the delicious congee. Zuo Yin was warmed by the steam, but her heart remained hollow.

…

After lunch, Zuo Yin took Zuo Lan to the hospital. Perhaps due to the weekend and an incoming cold front, the hospital was exceptionally crowded. People were streaming in and out of the main hall of the massive internal medicine building. After checking in, Zuo Yin took Zuo Lan to the third-floor gastroenterology waiting area.

Zuo Lan suddenly seemed to remember something. “Is the card almost out of money?”

“I don’t know.” The card belonged to Zuo Lan; Zuo Yin wasn’t entirely sure of the balance.

“It’ll be a hassle if we don’t have enough when we go to get the medicine. Why don’t you check it first?” Zuo Lan suggested.

“Mhm,” Zuo Yin nodded. “Wait here. I’ll go check.”

Zuo Yin walked toward the automated inquiry machines at the entrance of the third-floor hall. However, only one machine was working, and a long line had formed. Gripping the card in her pocket, she took the elevator down to the second floor. Bad luck followed—the lines were long all the way down to the first floor.

Frustrated, she chose the shortest line while looking around for another way. She noticed the front desk nearby; it wasn’t too crowded. Can you ask the nurses about card balances?

Hoping for the best, she approached the nurse’s station. “Excuse me, can I check a card balance here?”

The nurse looked busy. She glanced at Zuo Yin and shook her head. “Not here. You have to use the machines.”

Zuo Yin felt a pang of disappointment. Just as she was about to turn back, the nurse added, “Or you can go to the manual service window over there.” She pointed to a glass window behind her.

Zuo Yin thanked her and hurried toward the secluded, quiet corner behind a large pillar. With the prevalence of automated services, this manual window was largely ignored unless someone needed to deposit a large amount of cash.

“Can I check the balance?” Zuo Yin asked, handing over her card.

“Of course.” The nurse behind the glass, glad to have something to do, took the card with professional enthusiasm. “Please wait a moment.”

A few seconds later, the white-and-green card was placed back on the counter. The nurse looked at the system and said, “There’s over 2,000 left. No need to top it up.”

Zuo Yin froze. Even if there was money left, there was no way it was that much. She took the card back, confused. “Are you sure there’s no mistake?”

The nurse checked the screen carefully. “The owner’s name is Zuo Lan, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s correct,” the nurse said. “The system shows that in October, a Miss Shen deposited 5,000 yuan at an automated machine. There’s still 2,000 left.”

Zuo Yin’s mind immediately flashed back to the night of Zuo Lan’s emergency. She had never paid much attention to the balance; Auntie Zhang had handled the admission paperwork that day. No wonder Auntie Zhang had returned so quickly. And Shen Qingzi, who had claimed she was going to the vending machine downstairs, had been gone for quite a long time.

“Thank you.” Zuo Yin thanked the nurse and gripped the card in her pocket, her heart heavy with complex emotions as she walked toward the escalator. The sharp edge of the card left a red mark in her palm.

Why does she never say anything about the things she does for me?

She always had to find out herself. Zuo Yin didn’t feel happy about this discovery; her heart felt like it was being tossed between two glass marbles—one sweet, one bitter. Why did she always realize the truth so late?

She pulled out her phone. Shen Qingzi’s name was at the top of her contact list. She wanted to call her, to say thank you. She wanted to bring everything back to the way it was.

The noisy chatter of the hospital hall filled the air, drowning out the ringing tone in Zuo Yin’s ear. The escalator carried her past the second-floor respiratory department, but the call remained unanswered.

When the mechanical “I’m sorry…” voice played, Zuo Yin’s heart felt as if it had been struck by a heavy fist. She hadn’t contacted Shen Qingzi for two days, and Shen Qingzi hadn’t contacted her. Zuo Yin had assumed they were just giving each other space—that by Monday, she would still be the student and the other would still be the teacher.

“Sorry, the number…” The cold voice repeated the fact that the call hadn’t gone through.

Zuo Yin looked at the name “Shen Qingzi” on her screen, feeling a surge of panic for the first time. Even though she knew it likely wouldn’t connect, she called again, clinging to a sliver of hope.

At that moment, through the crowd, Zuo Yin heard a familiar melody. A soothing piano piece drifted into her ears. Her grip on her phone tightened.

That was Shen Qingzi’s ringtone.

Zuo Yin’s eyes lit up. Very few people used that specific piece as a ringtone; it was definitely Shen Qingzi’s phone. She scanned the crowd, following the sound.

A woman soon walked into her field of vision. She wore a khaki trench coat, her wavy, sea-tossed hair resting softly on her shoulders. Her smiling eyes made her immediately recognizable.

Zhou Lin.

Zhou Lin was talking to a doctor. She looked down at a phone she had pulled from her pocket, frowned slightly, and then casually slipped it back into her pocket as if nothing had happened.

At that exact moment, the call in Zuo Yin’s ear cut off, replaced once again by the standard automated message.