My Idol Turns Out To Be My Ex-Girlfriend - Chapter 29

Lin Sanyuan’s parents came from a generation of hardship. Her grandmother used to say that when Sanyuan was born, she was light as a feather and incredibly frail, the medicine pumped into her tiny body outweighed the milk she drank.

While that was surely an exaggeration, in Sanyuan’s own memory, she really was in and out of the hospital every few days. She had never once passed a PE exam in her life.

Later on, when her parents went away to find work, her life became a cycle of drifting. She’d stay at her grandmother’s one day, eat at her maternal grandmother’s the next, and be fostered at her youngest uncle’s house the day after that. With no set place for a square meal, her health deteriorated further. Minor ailments became constant, and she was guaranteed to come down with a fever and a cold every time it rained or the seasons shifted.

After so many trips to the hospital, even with the bond of kinship, her continued presence began to make her feel like a burden.

After all, her younger female cousin didn’t have nearly as many issues. She rarely got sick and rarely caused trouble for her parents.

Her aunt would often say, seemingly without intent, right in front of her, “A weak constitution is one thing, but you can always nurture it back to health. You can’t act like it’s the end of the world over every little ache and pain and insist on relying on medicine and injections. If your body builds up a resistance, the medicine stops working eventually. Then, when a real cold comes along, you’re in trouble. If you’re too delicate, you end up wasting a lot of money for nothing.”

Eventually, Sanyuan learned to endure. She grew increasingly silent, doing her best to avoid causing unnecessary trouble for others as long as the pain was within her limit of tolerance.

By the time she reached junior high, her knees began to hurt constantly, a sensation that was both itchy and painful. It wasn’t actually unbearable, but the pain lasted so long that it wore down her spirit, persisting intermittently throughout her entire junior high years.

The daytime was manageable, but at night, when her mind was more vulnerable, Sanyuan couldn’t help but fear she had some terminal bone disease. She worried that she might wake up one morning and find she could no longer walk.

And so, she grew up in silence, trepidation, and unease. She had no energy left to truly experience her adolescence.

Fortunately, the things she feared never came to pass. She grew up safely, in a state that was both healthy and unhealthy at the same time.

Looking back, what truly allowed her to breathe a secret sigh of relief was discovering the same symptom in someone else.

One evening at dinner, her cousin casually mentioned that her knees hurt occasionally and asked her mother if she should see a doctor.

Her aunt patted the girl’s head and said her “darling girl” was simply going through a growth spurt.

From then on, for a long time, animal liver was always on her uncle’s dinner table. On school days, her cousin’s breakfast would include an extra bottle of milk and an egg.

Sanyuan hadn’t known that knee pain didn’t require a doctor, only more milk and animal liver.

During junior high, her cousin shot up like a beanpole, eventually standing taller than Sanyuan, who was already in high school.

Back then, Sanyuan felt quite lucky. Her aunt was right, there was no need to make a scene over a little pain. Some “illnesses” you think you have can actually get better without medicine.

She was also glad she didn’t have to drink the milk or eat the liver. She hated those things.

She wasn’t afraid of the knee pain anymore.

However, her athletic ability remained abysmal. She couldn’t seem to figure out any recreational sport.

After her eighth fall, Sanyuan’s head felt a bit hazy. Snow had shaken down into her collar, making her shiver violently from the cold.

She sighed and sat there on the snow. “I just don’t get this sport.”

Qiao Lian, standing on her board, planted her ski poles in the snow to steady herself. She crouched down beside Sanyuan and brushed the snow off her head, laughing softly. “I’ll teach you.”

Sanyuan felt embarrassed. She didn’t want people to think she was stupid, so she shook her head. “No thanks. Why are you hovering around me while we’re out? I see you haven’t even skied very far yet. Is it even fun for you like this?”

Qiao Lian pushed up her goggles, looking as if she had seen right through Sanyuan’s thoughts.

“Do you want to watch me ski, then?”

“Huh?”

Qiao Lian exhaled a cloud of mist, her lips curving into a smile. “I’m still not very practiced yet. I’ll probably get the hang of it after a few laps. You can watch me, and I’ll try to… make it look cool.”

Sanyuan knew she was just trying to cheer her up, but she wasn’t actually unhappy.

“Go on then. If it’s really cool, I’ll cheer and shout for you.”

Even before Qiao Lian left, Sanyuan started clapping for her from her spot on the ground, looking like a little cat batting at its belly.

Qiao Lian smiled. She knew Sanyuan would never actually shout. She wasn’t the type to do something so public.

Bending her knees to pressure the board, Qiao Lian pushed off while pulling out her poles. The edge of the board cut through a layer of soft snow. Though her movements were a bit unpracticed, her features were striking, and her calm, set lips made her look exceptionally sharp.

Amidst the flying snow dust, she displayed an incredible natural talent for movement and learning.

Sanyuan sighed, thinking how wonderful it was to be young. She then shuffled herself to a quiet spot on the edge and poked her removed board into the snow.

She pulled a milk candy from her pocket, one she’d gotten from Qiao Lian, and watched the crowds racing through the snow, not feeling bored at all.

***

Han Chun finished two laps, breaking a sweat. During a break, he bought three cans of hot coffee from a vending machine, giving one each to Yang Jiayan and Zhang Junting.

His tone was casual, as if bringing up a random topic. “Is that the girl you said you wanted to introduce to Cao Shen?”

Cao Shen and Han Chun were cousins.

Yang Jiayan smiled and took a sip of her coffee. “That childhood friend of mine is quite a sincere person.”

She had actually only mentioned it in passing to find an opening to get close to him. After all, while Han Chun appeared approachable, he was actually quite proud and difficult to pin down for a date. The usual nightlife tactics wouldn’t work on an intellectual like him.

Han Chun slowly rotated the coffee can in his hand and shook his head with a light chuckle. “She looks quite young.”

Yang Jiayan laughed. “She’s only a year younger than me. She just started school a year early.”

She knew what his head-shake meant, he didn’t think she was a good match for his younger brother.

But this time, it seemed she had guessed wrong. Han Chun added, “I remember you mentioned she doesn’t have much of a romantic history.”

Yang Jiayan was suddenly unsure of his angle. She hesitated before saying, “She doesn’t really know how to date. She just… goes on a lot of blind dates.”

“Blind dates?” Zhang Junting, perhaps hearing such a mundane topic for the first time, let out a snicker. “That fits your circle quite well.”

Yang Jiayan found the comment a bit prickly. She frowned imperceptibly but smiled. “I never go on blind dates.”

Though she and Sanyuan had grown up together, they had always moved in different circles. Or rather, Sanyuan didn’t seem to have a “circle” at all.

Zhang Junting didn’t respond, seemingly losing interest in the topic.

Han Chun took a sip of coffee and asked, “Does your friend like children?”

This question felt off. Yang Jiayan teased him, “You’re taking quite an interest in my friend, aren’t you?”

In truth, he wasn’t that interested, as he hadn’t even bothered to remember Sanyuan’s name. Since the start of the conversation, she had only been “your friend.”

Han Chun looked helpless. “Cao Shen isn’t getting any younger, and he just went through a breakup. His parents keep pestering me about it. To be honest, it’s a headache.”

“Someone like Cao Shen is short on girlfriends?”

Han Chun gave Yang Jiayan a knowing look. “He’s not short on girlfriends, but it’s hard to find a suitable one. Do you know why his ex broke up with him?”

“Why?”

“She found a better option, had the baby, and dumped it at Cao Shen’s house,” Han Chun said simply.

Yang Jiayan thought “holy crap” to herself. Usually, people “run with the ball” (get pregnant and leave), but this woman was fierce—she just dropped the ball and ran, didn’t even want the kid.

On the surface, she remained calm. “That… I assume they weren’t married?”

So, an illegitimate child.

Han Chun nodded with a smile. “He always loses out when it comes to women. Your friend looks… clean.”

The implication was clear: he wanted her to play matchmaker.

Yang Jiayan clicked her tongue. This was a tough one. If it were a simple breakup, that would be one thing, but this twist was a bit much, becoming an unwed father overnight. That guy was hardly the type to stay home and raise a child; he probably just wanted to find an honest person to take over because the kid was a headache.

However, in Yang Jiayan’s world, this wasn’t exactly earth-shattering. She just hesitated, wondering if Sanyuan would be able to accept such a setup.

“Well, she’s already here. I mentioned it to her before I invited her, so if she came, she must have some level of interest. I’ll ask her when I get a chance?”

It was also a bit worrying. Cao Shen liked the “enchantress” types: mature and flirtatious. Sanyuan didn’t fit that mold at all.

“Alright, I’ll leave it to you then. When you’re free, I’ll take you to an art exhibition.”

“It’s a date, then.”

Yang Jiayan knew this man was hard to catch, but getting an invite made the effort of the “tug-of-war” worth it. And he had said an art exhibition, not just dinner. An art exhibition had a different meaning; Han Chun was an aesthete, and this was his way of tacitly allowing her into his inner circle.

Han Chun glanced at her, perfectly aware of her little schemes. He considered his time very valuable, so if he could effectively solve his cousin’s trouble and stop his parents’ nagging, he was willing to let Yang Jiayan get close to him with her ulterior motives.

This kind of subtle yet obvious social climbing was common to him. He never lacked for women throwing themselves at him, but he didn’t find it annoying. At the very least, Yang Jiayan was tactful and beautiful; the cost of playing along with her wasn’t high. She understood the social gap between them and wouldn’t be too bold or overstep.

He could continue to maintain his status as a social elite, condescendingly allowing her to approach. To catch this fish, he didn’t even have to work hard to set the bait.

Finishing his coffee, Han Chun turned to find a trash can, only to lock eyes with someone.

He froze for a moment.

Then, Yang Jiayan saw an indescribable smile cross the face of this normally conceited man. The smile was so intense and obvious it radiated warmth and pleasant surprise.

Han Chun waved toward the person. “Professor Tang, what a coincidence! You’re here skiing too?”

Beneath his composed and capable exterior, there was a hint of unnatural awkwardness.

Because it looked like Tang Hengzhi had been standing there for a very long time. Though they hadn’t said anything scandalous, the conversation hadn’t been exactly “noble” either. He wondered just how much she had overheard.

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