One Year After Her Sister-In-Law Was Widowed - Chapter 17

Xiao Shuangyu left Ji Zhuozhou’s home.

On Saturday afternoon, the band “Array” had their regular practice.

In the rehearsal room, A-Nan and Nie Siyu were on the side tuning the guitar and bass. Xiao Shuangyu sat behind the drum kit, her eyes vacant and staring blankly.

The drums were too loud; until they were ready to start, she wouldn’t join in.

The two of them were discussing something, but Xiao Shuangyu didn’t hear a word until A-Nan suddenly turned around. “LianLian, why aren’t you talking? LianLian?”

Xiao Shuangyu’s hollow gaze finally found focus, but it pulled inward as she played a brief, rhythmic drum fill. Dong-dong-qiang-qiang.

Yes, the tone was accurate.

Before her gaze could drift again, A-Nan swung his guitar in front of her eyes. “Since LianLian also agreed to add a new song, let’s pick one later. Think about whether we’re going to write it ourselves this time or adapt to someone else’s.”

Xiao Shuangyu blinked and snapped back to reality, realizing only then that A-Nan hadn’t been telling her to get ready to start, but was asking her about the new song.

Perhaps he had been stimulated by the last-minute song change the night before.

A-Nan was always full of passion; his creative desire was vigorous, and he grew tired of the old quickly. By the time he mentioned it, he likely already had an idea.

She glanced at Nie Siyu. Nie Siyu looked helpless and gave her a smile. But behind those thick lenses, there was a distinct flicker of expectant light.

Xiao Shuangyu nodded, following the arrangement as usual.

The rehearsal began.

The drumbeats thundered, each strike vibrating against the heart. It felt as if her heartbeat was accelerating along with every beat of the drum.

Xiao Shuangyu suddenly curled the corners of her mouth.

The gloom was obvious, but her happiness was equally apparent.

She was smiling, and she couldn’t suppress it.

The drumsticks in her hands accelerated until they were almost a blur of afterimages.

Ji Zhuozhou had not rejected her.

She hadn’t agreed, and she hadn’t responded.

Those deep green eyes, found only in the depths of a remote forest, had looked at her and only asked if she was full.

She waited patiently, without pressing or clinging.

Before leaving Ji Zhuozhou’s door, she said she would check her messages at any time and would never miss a single one.

Ji Zhuozhou said “okay.”

Ji Zhuozhou had tacitly accepted her intentions.

Now, she only needed to wait—wait for Ji Zhuozhou’s message, wait for Ji Zhuozhou’s need.

But before that, A-Nan and Nie Siyu were also waiting.

The moment the song ended, they rushed toward Xiao Shuangyu, asking if she was in such a hurry because she thought the rehearsal room was too expensive, and asking what good or bad thing had happened to make her smile like that.

Xiao Shuangyu shook her head. The two didn’t believe her, sensing she was definitely hiding something.

Xiao Shuangyu’s smile suddenly widened. She said, “For the next song, let’s write it ourselves.”

“Something like ‘Gossip’.”

Nie Siyu and A-Nan looked at each other, both seeing confusion in the other’s eyes.

To be honest, the lyrics for “Gossip” were written by A-Nan after watching a horror movie. The lyrics were angry, tense, and an accusation of unease. Although it was very “rock” and satisfying to sing, it wasn’t a lighthearted theme.

And before them, Xiao Shuangyu’s smile was neither bright nor sunny. Her pitch-black eyes were like deep pools; her whole aura seemed sinister.

Seeing that Xiao Shuangyu wasn’t paying attention, A-Nan glanced at her and silently asked Nie Siyu, “Who upset her again?”

Nie Siyu shook her head quickly.

Xiao Shuangyu’s good mood almost didn’t survive the weekend.

She failed to receive any message from Ji Zhuozhou after leaving her house. Not a single one.

She only received a message from Su Yuran’s mother on Sunday night, asking if she had gone out with someone since she wasn’t at home.

After that banquet, her phone had indeed gained a few more contacts, but they were just names—there was no communication or commonality.

She truthfully said no. Su Yuran’s mother didn’t reply, but Xiao Shuangyu could imagine the expression her mother would have if she were standing in front of her.

The mothers still thought she lived at home and hadn’t graduated yet. They didn’t pay her much attention, so this sudden inquiry felt abnormal and strange.

But these things didn’t affect Xiao Shuangyu. It was just that on Monday morning, she spent a long time coaxing herself while staring at her empty chat logs with Ji Zhuozhou before heading out.

She arrived at Huarei early for work and only saw Ji Zhuozhou again while on guard duty.

The Omega wore a decent long dress as usual, with light makeup and an elegant posture. Her green eyes curved slightly as she looked at her, softly saying good morning.

Xiao Shuangyu’s whole body went stiff, her fists clenched. Seeing Ji Zhuozhou speaking to her as if nothing had happened, the scent of rain and mist diffusing gently, her fists immediately relaxed.

However, her movements were still stiff as she looked over and curled her gloomy lips. “Good morning, Teacher Ji.”

Ji Zhuozhou’s eyes curved a bit deeper. “It seems LianLian isn’t used to Mondays either.”

Xiao Shuangyu unconsciously lowered her gaze.

On the side, Wang Ran chimed in with a laugh, “It really is hard to get used to. Weekends are great, they just pass too quickly.”

Xiao Shuangyu’s heart suddenly began to pound wildly. The image of the Omega’s flushed face suddenly surfaced before her eyes.

Ji Zhuozhou glanced at her, nodding as she saw the slight redness on the tips of her ears. She said nothing more, bid them both goodbye, and walked toward the elevator to go upstairs.

Xiao Shuangyu’s dark pupils immediately followed her, the viscous tentacles of her aura thrashing around her as she stared unconsciously for a long time.

Ji Zhuozhou didn’t notice.

During the lunch break and the walk home, Ji Zhuozhou didn’t notice.

Xiao Shuangyu stood by the roadside, looking at the lit window of that building in the residential complex before walking slowly toward the subway.

No messages.

No private messages, no updates on Friend Circle, no Weibo posts.

Aside from that “good morning” earlier, she hadn’t been able to speak to Ji Zhuozhou again all day.

This situation wasn’t rare. During the dozen or so days when Ji Zhuozhou was exceptionally busy, she sometimes didn’t even see her, let alone talk to her.

It’s normal. Not a bit unusual. It’s fine as long as I can see Ji Zhuozhou normally every day.

That was what Xiao Shuangyu thought in the crowded subway.

But looking at her reflection in the train window—that lifeless, gloomy face—she knew she was actually anxious.

She had promised not to speak of it or be a nuisance, yet she was clearly and precisely hoping for Ji Zhuozhou to need her.

Perhaps it wasn’t that Ji Zhuozhou needed her company; it was that she wanted to be with Ji Zhuozhou.

The next day, Xiao Shuangyu was in a very bad mood, yet she acted more proactive than usual.

Tomorrow was the 15th. For the next entire month, she would be switched from the morning shift to the middle shift. Her working hours would be from 4:00 PM to midnight.

Such a schedule meant she couldn’t say good morning to Ji Zhuozhou, couldn’t see her at noon, and couldn’t even catch a glimpse of her lit window after she got off work.

She could only say “see you tomorrow” when Ji Zhuozhou got off work, and then the next morning, she could only watch Ji Zhuozhou’s car drive out of the complex without seeing the person inside.

If she didn’t wait outside the complex but instead waited across from Huarui early on, she might see her, but she might also be discovered by others.

I want to transfer.

I want to re-apply as a janitor.

Xiao Shuangyu’s dark eyes searched outside for Ji Zhuozhou’s figure while her mind replayed these thoughts over and over.

Finally, Ji Zhuozhou appeared in her field of vision.

Xiao Shuangyu didn’t hide or avoid her. She stared straight at Ji Zhuozhou as she approached step by step. Her dark gaze locked on as the distance closed, and she spoke to those deep green eyes, “Good morning.”

There were two people passing in front of her whom she ignored. Just like that, from a distance, she spoke toward Ji Zhuozhou.

Several pairs of eyes fell on her and then quickly moved away with confused expressions and whispers.

Ji Zhuozhou was also a bit surprised. She took a few more steps forward before responding, “Morning, LianLian. Morning, Sister Ran.”

This time, the one who didn’t use a formal title was Xiao Shuangyu, while the one who did was Ji Zhuozhou.

Xiao Shuangyu looked at Ji Zhuozhou without blinking, deeply inhaling the scent of rain and mist on her. She was even reluctant to blink, wanting to memorize this version of Ji Zhuozhou for the last “good morning” for a while.

Wang Ran didn’t notice her gaze and said with a smile, “Morning, Teacher Ji. It won’t be the two of us tomorrow. It’ll be another two months before we can say good morning to you again.”

Ji Zhuozhou froze for a moment. She turned her head to look at Xiao Shuangyu, looking into those ink-colored eyes that still refused to blink, and suddenly understood something.

She responded to Wang Ran, but her eyes remained on Xiao Shuangyu. “Then let’s meet at other times.”

After a moment, Xiao Shuangyu finally blinked and nodded heavily. “Okay.”

After saying “okay,” Xiao Shuangyu crouched early in the stairwell outside the staff cafeteria at noon.

Hiding her body behind the fire door, Xiao Shuangyu’s eyes searched for Ji Zhuozhou.

Ji Zhuozhou usually didn’t come down immediately; she often waited about twenty minutes. By then, the peak flow of people had passed, making it much easier to get food and find a seat.

Today was no exception.

Today, Ji Zhuozhou also ate alone, the space beside her empty.

Xiao Shuangyu watched seriously and intently, but the name “Ji Zhuozhou” suddenly drifted from the mouths of people passing through her.

She instinctively looked over and heard a newcomer beside that person ask in confusion, “Ah, really? But she’s so beautiful, and so capable…”

The person turned to say something but happened to catch Xiao Shuangyu’s gaze. They quickly changed the subject and moved away with the newcomer.

Xiao Shuangyu watched them walk away, but suddenly, as the elevator opened, she took a large stride to catch up, squeezed into the elevator, and pushed in behind the two of them.

Under the brim of her hat, her gloomy face was incredibly pale. Her dark, lightless eyes stared straight down. She wasn’t a high-level Alpha, yet she carried a highly oppressive, dark aura.

“G-ghost…”

The person unconsciously swallowed, not daring to lift their gaze at all.

As soon as the elevator reached the floor, they pulled the newcomer and rushed out, heading back to the office.

Xiao Shuangyu walked out of the elevator but didn’t follow. Her eyes chased after the two retreating backs, memorizing their office location.

From a distance, her gaze patrolled various parts of the floor as if she were on guard.

A few minutes later, Xiao Shuangyu turned and pressed the elevator button to go down. As the doors opened, a pair of deep green eyes crashed into her sight.

“LianLian?”