One Year After Her Sister-In-Law Was Widowed - Chapter 19

For several days, things were calm.

As expected, there wasn’t a single rumor or trace of the complaint against Xiao Shuangyu within the company. It was so quiet that it felt as if nothing had ever happened.

The notification that she was needed by Ji Zhuozhou still hadn’t arrived on her phone, but she was bombarded by waves of resentful messages from A-Nan and Nie Siyu.

After the shift rotation, her schedule completely clashed with the Array Band’s performance times. The only time she could participate was on her Saturday off, but she had spent that day on duty at Huarui.

After all, it was Xiao Shuangyu’s first time on duty; she couldn’t easily ask for leave. So, unsurprisingly, she achieved the “feat” of missing three performances in a single week.

It was precisely because her time no longer aligned after the shift change that Xiao Shuangyu confessed to the two of them that she had started working—and had become a security guard right from the start.

The two teased her for skipping thirty years of life struggles while lamenting that without her drumbeats, the band had no soul.

They had a recorded version for emergencies that they could make do with, but they insisted it lacked soul.

It was as if the “soulless” Xiao Shuangyu sitting behind the drums playing live was the only thing that had soul. Xiao Shuangyu found it strangely funny and let out a sinister chuckle, which caught Wang Ran off guard and gave her a fright.

And so, a new week arrived. On Monday, after saying “See you tomorrow” to Ji Zhuozhou early at 6:00 PM, Xiao Shuangyu spent the rest of her time feeling more than a little wilted.

The middle shift lasted until midnight. By the end, the only people left in the entire company were the security guards. Walking through the hallways felt like walking through a cavern of echoes; it was hauntingly empty.

They carried flashlights to check for any remaining people or unclosed water and electricity. Wang Ran looked at her and asked, “Giving up already? The night shifts later will be even more boring.”

The flickering lights were strangely quiet. Xiao Shuangyu might have been wilted, but she just felt like she had nothing to look forward to; she wasn’t actually dissatisfied with the work.

In contrast, the night shift took place during the night, meaning she would be free all day. She could wait for Ji Zhuozhou to start work after her own shift ended, or watch Ji Zhuozhou leave work before she started hers.

Thinking about it, it actually felt quite nice.

Xiao Shuangyu’s steps became inexplicably lighter. “I can do it.”

But Xiao Shuangyu who said that couldn’t even make it through the next day.

On Tuesday at 6:00 PM, as she watched Ji Zhuozhou’s car disappear into the flow of traffic until it was no longer visible, she suddenly realized there were still over twenty days until the next shift rotation. She immediately wilted again.

This cycle continued until Friday at 6:00 PM. Ji Zhuozhou’s figure appeared as the 203rd person, carrying a thick scent of rain and mist. “Lianlian looks like she’s adapted a lot better.”

Xiao Shuangyu, who had been secretly sniffing the air, froze mid-motion and lowered her head in a slightly dejected manner.

She hadn’t adapted.

Perhaps because the previous period had been too happy, the wait after the shift change felt especially long.

These past few days, she was always dreaming. She didn’t dream of them hugging, or kissing, or being intimate; she only dreamed, over and over, of Ji Zhuozhou saying to her: “Come accompany me, I need you.”

She would wake up cradling such beautiful dreams, only to find her phone empty. The frustration in her heart swelled and expanded until she could almost lose her mind.

Truth be told, it would only be exactly two weeks until tomorrow; she hadn’t realized she was so lacking in patience.

But because she had vowed to Wang Ran that she could handle it, Xiao Shuangyu had spent these past few days trying her best to put on a front so that no one would notice.

She raised her eyes, carefully letting her gaze fall on Ji Zhuozhou. Her pitch-black pupils were round and dull, filled with heavy, stifling gloom.

It was as if vines and sprouts were growing, sticky black sap about to drip, like tentacles tentatively reaching out, wanting to wrap tightly around Ji Zhuozhou.

She said, “Be careful on the road.”

Her voice was muffled, carrying a hidden hoarseness.

Those emerald-like eyes looked toward her, and she gave a soft response. “Mm.”

She added, “If there’s nothing else, Lianlian should go home as soon as possible after work too.”

The word “home” was bitten a bit harder than the others.

The corners of Ji Zhuozhou’s lips curled up slightly, and she inconspicuously shook the phone in her hand at her.

Xiao Shuangyu didn’t understand. Her gaze remained glued to Ji Zhuozhou’s back, watching her until she was out of sight before turning around.

Once nearly all the employees had left, they moved to a different post. Xiao Shuangyu took out her phone and was suddenly stunned.

It was a message from before 6:00 PM, from Ji Zhuozhou.

Sailboat: Are you busy after work, Lianlian? Do you want to come over?

Visibly, Xiao Shuangyu’s spirit underwent a transformation.

The deathly, sticky tentacles around her suddenly began to tremble, twist, and clamor, wordlessly expressing her excitement and agitation.

I’m coming

I will come

Midnight.

At this hour, the subways and buses had long since stopped running. As usual, Xiao Shuangyu chose to take a taxi. Amidst the night air that hadn’t lost its heat, she watched the city nightscape flash past the window in a very good mood.

Ji Zhuozhou needed her.

She was going to find Ji Zhuozhou.

She could enter that home with Ji Zhuozhou in it again.

In the depths of those pitch-black eyes, an urgent joy was clearly flowing out.

After getting out of the car, Xiao Shuangyu couldn’t help but quicken her pace, hurrying to Ji Zhuozhou’s door. But then she stood stiffly before the door, her hands and feet suddenly having nowhere to go, and she inexplicably gripped the corner of her clothes.

She felt nervous.

Earlier, from downstairs, she had seen that in the building—which was mostly dark because of the late hour—the window behind that door was glowing softly and clearly.

Was Ji Zhuozhou waiting for her?

Not a “coincidence” because she couldn’t sleep, but because they had an appointment, was she waiting for her?

In a late night almost identical to the last one, was Ji Zhuozhou waiting for her this time?

She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Just thinking about it made her feel like she was bubbling with happiness, as if she might faint on the spot.

Taking a deep breath, Xiao Shuangyu pulled herself together and knocked on the door.

The “dong-dong” sound couldn’t drown out her heartbeat, sounding even more distinct in the silent night.

She held her breath, her large black eyes unblinking, wanting to take in every bit of Ji Zhuozhou when she came to open the door.

However, after a long while, there was no response.

Xiao Shuangyu blinked her slightly sore eyes, took another breath, and knocked again.

Still no response.

The voice-activated light in the hallway went out, and Xiao Shuangyu suddenly felt a bit lost.

Only then did she remember to take out her phone. The cold light of the phone screen illuminated her face in the darkness. In the next instant, a soft warm light expanded from a line to a surface, carrying a thick scent of rain and mist, illuminating her body from the front.

The voice-activated light came back on, and Ji Zhuozhou’s voice followed, carrying a gentle smile. “Lianlian, why aren’t you coming in?”

In her peripheral vision, a snow-white bath towel wrapped around a delicate body. Beautiful legs, straight and slender, appeared before her in the soft light.

She looked up instinctively and saw the ends of thick hair, damp from not being dried in time, resting against the side of a slender neck, emitting warm heat and disappearing into the beautiful collarbones.

Those emerald-like eyes curved slightly. “Didn’t you bring your key?”

Xiao Shuangyu snapped back to her senses, her gaze frantically shifting away, yet she felt dazed.

Such a question was so natural and every day, as if this wasn’t just her third… or fourth time here, but as if she had been living here all along.

Her mind spun unclearly. In her lightheadedness, she finally remembered that when she left last time, she hadn’t returned the key to Ji Zhuozhou.

And that key was currently in the canvas bag in her hand.

Perhaps Ji Zhuozhou mentioned it because she wanted it back.

She put down the phone where she had just opened WeChat, carefully hid the canvas bag behind her back, and spoke in a muffled voice full of selfishness.

“I forgot.”