One Year After Her Sister-In-Law Was Widowed - Chapter 8

The next day, Thursday.

Before Ji Zhuozhou could even find a parking spot, she received a message from the Director stating that the proposal submitted by Perfumery Group 2 some time ago had been sent back right before pilot production. It needed to be completely reworked.

Back then, that project had been notoriously difficult. From its initial conception, almost every single adjustment required the approval of every member of the group. When the proposal was finally submitted and passed, the junior perfumers in the group had reportedly burst into tears of relief.

Ji Zhuozhou had heard these snippets of information here and there; you could probably ask any Huarei employee and they would know a thing or two about it.

The head of Perfumery Group 2 was a very mature and excellent Senior Perfumer. Logically speaking, for someone so cautious, it shouldn’t have been possible for the project to be rejected and sent back for a rework.

And the other side wasn’t simply telling her this news—in the next breath, the task was handed over to her. Claiming that the deadline was tight and the task heavy, they asked her to provide several conceptual versions before the end of the week.

Not counting the weekend, she only had two days.

Ji Zhuozhou parked her car, asked the other party to send over the project materials, grabbed her handbag, and stepped out of the car, walking toward the exit of the parking lot.

Huarei’s Perfumery Department was divided into several small groups based on fragrance types. Each group was led by a Senior or Middle-level Perfumer, with two or three junior or assistant perfumers under them.

Ji Zhuozhou was the sole exception.

Four years ago, she had entered Huarei’s Perfumery Department as an Assistant Perfumer. In just two years, she had risen to Senior Perfumer, and now there were even faint signs of her becoming the Chief Perfumer.

One must realize that, generally speaking, the process of rising from Assistant to Senior takes ten years, especially in a major company with strict standards like Huarei.

A genius like this would be vigorously nurtured no matter where she was placed. However, Ji Zhuozhou had declined the promotion arrangements and the team members assigned by the company, accepting only that independent laboratory.

So, currently, Ji Zhuozhou did not belong to any specific group in the Perfumery Department. While she didn’t technically form her own group, in practice, it was essentially the same.

From a distance, she saw two tall figures in black uniforms in front of the Huarei entrance. It was still Xiao Shuangyu and Wang Ran, who was training her.

A few stray strands of hair had escaped from Xiao Shuangyu’s ponytail near her ears. The sunlight from behind hit them squarely, making those dark strands shimmer with a golden light.

Ji Zhuozhou instinctively slowed her pace, wanting to see what these two were doing face-to-face today.

Would it be a “cute” training session like yesterday?

Ji Zhuozhou didn’t know that yesterday, while she was alone, Xiao Shuangyu had spent ages practicing in front of the bathroom mirror. The more she practiced, the more confused she became, but she accidentally managed to learn how to knit her brows.

Different from a full frown, just knitting them slightly, combined with her distinct “sanpaku” eyes, made her presence feel inexplicably more imposing.

When she arrived at the company in the morning, Xiao Shuangyu had found Wang Ran with that exact expression. Wang Ran had even thought she was angry about something.

The effect was excellent.

But it wasn’t intentional on Xiao Shuangyu’s part. Her dreams last night were too bizarre; if she didn’t work hard to suppress her thoughts, she feared her brain would break from the sheer volume of them.

So until this moment, Xiao Shuangyu continued the “recognition” training that hadn’t been finished yesterday, treating it as a review, still wearing that same expression.

Because her face was turned and the brim of her security cap was pulled low, Ji Zhuozhou, from a distance, didn’t notice it.

Her phone chimed repeatedly. A massive pile of documents was sent to her email, and the Director on WeChat sent over some precautions that weren’t in the files.

Time was tight.

Ji Zhuozhou, who should have hurried upstairs to check the data, checked her stride and even stood still for a moment.

A moment later, she moved forward quietly.

Step by step, she drew closer. Her emerald-green eyes drifted lightly over Xiao Shuangyu’s beautiful jawline, waiting to be discovered by those ink-like eyes, a faint light flickering in her gaze.

Before Wang Ran’s low voice could become clear, Xiao Shuangyu turned her head without warning. Her slightly knitted brows smoothed out in a daze, meeting her eyes directly.

Before a “Good morning” could be uttered, the eyes looking at her suddenly dropped a few inches, then slammed down toward the ground.

The tips of her ears turned instantly red, more conspicuous than the golden strands of hair in the sunlight.

Muffled, Xiao Shuangyu said: “Good morning, Teacher Ji.”

Teacher Ji, huh.

She gets shy over this too.

Ji Zhuozhou softened her tone, responding to Xiao Shuangyu and Wang Ran’s greetings, then glanced at Xiao Shuangyu’s forehead. “Is Lian-Lian training today too?”

In front of her, long lashes flickered downward. Xiao Shuangyu nodded.

Wang Ran let out a laugh. “Did Teacher Ji see that? The effect is pretty good, isn’t it?”

Ji Zhuozhou gave a slight nod. Seeing that the back of Xiao Shuangyu’s neck was also starting to turn red, she spoke without hesitation: “It’s very good.”

She didn’t linger there. Employees were constantly streaming in; she was not only blocking people but also hindering their work.

Entering the elevator, looking at her own clear reflection in the doors, Ji Zhuozhou instinctively touched her lips, her gaze lowering slightly.

Ji Zhuozhou immediately entered a state of being so busy her feet barely touched the ground. Xiao Shuangyu was completely unaware, feeling none of the joy of calling her “Teacher Ji” for the first time, only a heightened sense of dizziness after seeing Ji Zhuozhou.

She had a dream last night.

In the dream, light gauze wrapped around an exquisite body. A distant woman turned her head to look at her, then turned around, walking toward her step by step.

The blurred face slowly took on a gentle shape. Emerald eyes, bright red lips. The woman looked at her, curling her lips into a smile as she spoke.

She couldn’t hear clearly. She stared intently at those lips, yet she couldn’t distinguish the exact sounds.

That figure drew closer, from hundreds of steps to less than ten. Her steps were light and slow, her posture graceful.

The floating gauze billowed with the wind toward an unknown distance. The woman walked until she was half a step away from her.

The wind stopped, the gauze fell back, and the woman’s face became clearer than ever.

The bright red lips were still opening and closing. No sound could be heard, yet the lips grew increasingly moist and lustrous.

The woman continued forward, slowly raising her hand to wrap it around her neck. Warm body heat was transferred. She wanted to retreat, but she couldn’t move her feet.

She finally heard the woman’s voice—a very soft, very gentle sound.

“Good girl.”

In the next second, the woman’s lips pressed against hers.

Soft, burning lips carrying the scent of rain and mist easily covered her own, prying open her teeth, kissing her passionately.

Xiao Shuangyu’s dream woke me up at that very moment.

She had dreamed of Ji Zhuozhou.

She dreamed of Ji Zhuozhou kissing her.

Everything in the dream was so real that even without trying to recall it, it would flood her mind. Facing the obviously even more “real” Ji Zhuozhou, how could she not be nervous?

Her mind wanted to wander to many things, but she didn’t dare think about any of them.

No matter what she thought, it didn’t change one fact.

She wanted to kiss Ji Zhuozhou.

Just like in the dream—a tight embrace, a deep kiss.

To kiss Xiao Mingyi’s wife. To kiss her sister’s widow.

What did kissing feel like?

And what would it feel like to kiss Ji Zhuozhou?

During the lunch break, Xiao Shuangyu melted into the shadows of the stairwell. Her thick, heavy gaze fell straight onto the entrance of the employee cafeteria, thinking uncontrollably.

She didn’t manage to wait for Ji Zhuozhou; Wang Ran called her back to her post.

It wasn’t that her break had been shortened, but rather that during her usual break time, Ji Zhuozhou hadn’t come to the cafeteria to eat.

Was she delayed by something, or did she simply not choose the employee cafeteria?

On the way back, Xiao Shuangyu opened Ji Zhuozhou’s WeChat, then her Moments. Seeing the unchanging account, she switched out, hesitated for a moment, and then clicked into Weibo.

In the profile with the default avatar and nickname, there was only one person following a simple one-character nickname with a sunset avatar.

Pull down. Refresh.

The system indicated no new content. The latest post from the following person was from the afternoon of June 23rd.

Zhuo: Continue working.

It was the day after the anniversary of Xiao Mingyi’s death.

Four very ordinary words.

Work that had been interrupted because of Xiao Mingyi’s death anniversary had returned to its normal track the day after.

With what kind of mood was this posted? Was it a final determination to discard the past, or a forced numbing of oneself to keep moving forward?

Or was it just a casual remark made during work?

Xiao Shuangyu couldn’t find the answer, but at the moment she saw it again, she felt a flash of maddening jealousy.

Xiao Mingyi… the Xiao Mingyi who married Ji Zhuozhou… the always dissolute and promiscuous Xiao Mingyi…

Would Ji Zhuozhou… kiss her?

Hateful.

Hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it.

So jealous. So jealous, so jealous, so jealous—

This time, Xiao Shuangyu’s jealousy fermented for a long while.

However, for the next ten or so days, even though they were in the same company, she almost never saw Ji Zhuozhou.

She didn’t see Ji Zhuozhou come in; she couldn’t wait for her to leave work. Even though they ran into each other while she was on patrol, they only exchanged a greeting before Ji Zhuozhou hurried away.

If it weren’t for a reply to a message sent half a day earlier—a simple “Yes, I’ve been very busy lately”Xiao Shuangyu would have started to question her life.

In this state, her delusions and jealousy gradually dissipated because she hadn’t seen Ji Zhuozhou for so long.

Instead, she began to hope that Ji Zhuozhou’s busy period would end soon.

It was already July. The weather was getting hotter. As noon approached, just walking by the window made it feel as though the heat was transferring through the clean, transparent glass.

Wang Ran looked at the sky outside. “Why hasn’t it rained lately?”

Xiao Shuangyu gave a vague nod in response, her attention already drifting to a janitor mopping the floor on the other side.

Watching that person push the cleaning cart, stopping and going, Xiao Shuangyu suddenly felt a pang of regret.

Perhaps she should have applied to be a janitor from the start. After finishing their cleaning area on time every day, could they hold a rag and appear more freely in various parts of the company?

If that were the case, would she have more opportunities to see Ji Zhuozhou?

In the blink of an eye, it was four o’clock. Time to get off work.

While Xiao Shuangyu was changing clothes in the break room, the phone screen in her locker suddenly lit up.

From the corner of her eye, Xiao Shuangyu caught a glimpse of a small sailboat icon. She hurriedly dropped her half-changed clothes to check it.

Sailboat: I’ve finished my work and can leave soon. Are you free in a bit, Lian-Lian? Let me treat you to dinner.

On the face illuminated by the phone screen, those dark, lifeless eyes widened instantly. She almost forgot to breathe.

She could not believe what she was seeing.

Ji Zhuozhou… wanted to have dinner with her?

With… her?

Her hands couldn’t help but tremble slightly. She didn’t know how to react, so she quickly clenched her hands, afraid that Wang Ran on the other side would notice something was wrong.

Can… can she say yes?

The Ji Zhuozhou she hadn’t seen in a long time, the Ji Zhuozhou who was finally free—could she go and see her?

Ah, she shouldn’t let Ji Zhuozhou treat her. She had said she would treat Ji Zhuozhou before, and she still hadn’t made good on that…

Her heart was pounding like a drum, thumping loudly.

On the screen she was staring at, a new message popped up at that moment.

In an instant, her heart skipped a beat.

The message was from her mother.

It was about a banquet.

Tonight.