Returning to High School to Save My Wife - Chapter 3

The response came without a hint of hesitation, even carrying a trace of eagerness in its tone almost as if, she had long planned to freeload a meal at their home.

Jiang Yuan even suspected that even if Xu Chengyu hadn’t invited Liang Qi to stay, Liang Qi would have found some excuse to remain.

“Aren’t you in a hurry to go home?” Jiang Yuan’s question was undeniably tactful. What she really wanted to ask was why Liang Qi was so determined to stay in her house.

Though Jiang Yuan wasn’t very old, the years she had spent living with Xu Chengyu had exposed her to all kinds of human behavior. She could see right through Liang Qi’s little schemes.

Still, despite her confusion, Jiang Yuan didn’t refuse her outright. After all, Liang Qi was just a girl her age having her stay for a meal wouldn’t make much difference.

“I my mom’s working today and won’t be home at noon,” Liang Qi quickly fabricated a reason.

Perhaps Liang Qi’s tone was too convincing, because Jiang Yuan took her at her word and didn’t press further. “In that case, you can rest here for a while. When your mom gets back, I’ll walk you home.”

“Then, thank you!” Liang Qi clasped her hands behind her back, smiling sweetly though the stronger emotion was relief.

Getting close to Jiang Yuan from their high school days didn’t seem as difficult as she had imagined.

She wasn’t greedy. For her wife, she had infinite patience, willing to inch closer to that seemingly unattainable heart, one step at a time.

“Yuanyuan, dinner will still take a while. Why don’t you take Xiao Liang to your room to rest first?” Madam Xu Chengyu instructed.

“Okay,” Jiang Yuan replied, then suddenly remembered something and added, “Oh, Mom, don’t forget to leave a portion for Mumu. Otherwise, he’ll complain again about having nothing to eat when he gets back.”

“Mumu?” Hearing the name, Liang Qi vaguely recalled something. She knew Jiang Yuan had a younger brother named Jiang Mu, but he had passed away from illness the year she graduated from university. The two had been very close, so every Qingming Festival, Jiang Yuan would visit his grave.

“My brother. He’s out playing basketball,” Jiang Yuan said helplessly. “Every weekend is like this. Last week, he fell and hurt his bones, and they haven’t even healed yet, but today he’s back at it again.”

Jiang Yuan handed Liang Qi a pair of slippers. “My room is the one on the left. You can lie down on my bed for a bit. I’ll go to the kitchen to get you some water.”

Liang Qi nodded. “Thank you.”

While Jiang Yuan was in the kitchen, Liang Qi quietly surveyed the apartment. Two bedrooms and a living room, the walls slightly worn with peeling paint, showing its age.

A faint fragrance lingered in the air, reminiscent of temple incense. A small Buddha statue sat on the table.

Following the cracks along the walls, Liang Qi found the space that belonged solely to Jiang Yuan as if tracing the rings of memory to step closer to her past.

The bedroom wasn’t large, but it was tidy. Unlike the living room, this room bore few traces of time’s wear. The walls were clean and smooth, preserving the purest, most untainted heart of a young girl.

Photos were pasted on the walls snapshots of Jiang Yuan in ballet competitions. Though her face still carried a hint of youthful innocence, it couldn’t mask her liveliness. In every photo, Jiang Yuan was smiling brightly. Liang Qi gazed into her eyes, struck by the illusion that she was meeting her gaze across time.

They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, and through those beautiful almond-shaped eyes, Liang Qi truly sensed her passion for dance, a fervor she had never felt from her own wife.

Time had long since stripped away the fiery intensity that once belonged to her, leaving behind only a gentle, placid demeanor that grew increasingly fragmented and cold in the pitch-black night.

Liang Qi knew Jiang Yuan had trained in posture for several years, which explained her graceful bearing. Once, when picking Jiang Yuan up from work, she ran into a colleague who mentioned that Jiang Yuan had studied ballet since childhood but never performed at company events. During a holiday at home, Liang Qi inadvertently brought it up, only to see Jiang Yuan avert her gaze, biting her lip with tears shimmering in her eyes. After that, Liang Qi never mentioned it again.

Yet, judging by the ballet posters still hanging on Jiang Yuan’s bedroom walls, it was clear that at this point, she hadn’t yet developed any aversion to dancing.

Liang Qi was lost in thought when Jiang Yuan returned with a glass of water.

“It’s warm, not too hot. You can drink it right away.”

“Thank you.” Liang Qi tore her gaze from the photos and took the cup, surprised by how unusually adorable it looked.

It was a transparent deer-shaped glass with measurement markings and two little ears stuck to the sides, resembling a child’s milk cup, a stark contrast to Jiang Yuan’s usual refined style.

Noticing her hesitation, Jiang Yuan guessed her thoughts and explained helplessly, “It was handed out at the school’s arts festival. They were all the same design.”

At the mention of the “arts festival,” Liang Qi’s heart skipped a beat. Gathering her courage, she asked, “Did you perform at the festival?”

Jiang Yuan nodded. “Ballet.”

“You must have danced beautifully,” Liang Qi said, her eyes flickering to the photos on the wall. “These pictures are stunning.”

Jiang Yuan remained indifferent to the praise. She had heard too many compliments laced with ulterior motives to be moved by them.

But to her surprise, Liang Qi didn’t press further, as if the words had been nothing more than a sincere, heartfelt remark.

Jiang Yuan glanced at the neatly made bed before returning her gaze to Liang Qi’s pale face. “You’re suffering from heatstroke. You should rest for a while.”

“Oh, right.” Liang Qi sat on the edge of the bed, holding the cup. The water was just the right temperature neither too hot nor too cold. Jiang Yuan had always been meticulous about such details.

Jiang Yuan sat at the dressing table, loosening her slightly messy ponytail to redo it. Seeing this, Liang Qi set the cup down and offered, “Let me help you with your hair.”

Despite Jiang Yuan’s calm and reserved nature, Liang Qi knew she cared deeply about her appearance. She spent a long time styling her hair after every shower, sought Liang Qi’s opinion before salon visits, and paid close attention to her outfits when going out.

“You?” Jiang Yuan was taken aback. Through the mirror, she watched Liang Qi’s clumsy attempts at braiding and couldn’t help but find it amusing. You can’t even manage your own hair, and you want to help me?

“I’m actually great at hairstyling,” Liang Qi boasted without hesitation. “Everyone I’ve done it for has loved it.”

“Really? You’ve done someone else’s hair before?”

“Of course. She always loved it when I did her hair and praised my skills every time.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s.” Liang Qi paused slightly. “Someone very important to me.

Her voice was soft, like a sigh, but Jiang Yuan showed no reaction upon hearing it.

“Then I’ll let you try,” Jiang Yuan said, setting down the comb and sitting quietly in front of the dressing mirror, her posture poised, her demeanor both cool and gentle.

Liang Qi took the comb and began to brush her hair. As she lifted a strand, she inadvertently caught a glimpse of Jiang Yuan’s shoulder, faintly exposed beneath her school T-shirt pale and smooth, without any other marks.

She was momentarily dazed.

She remembered that Jiang Yuan had a beautiful rose tattoo on her shoulder. The first time she saw it, she had marveled that someone as proper as Jiang Yuan would do something as rebellious as getting inked. But Jiang Yuan had pulled up her collar and said flatly, “It covers a scar.” That was when Liang Qi learned the tattoo was meant to hide a wound.

Twice she had asked about the past, twice she had touched upon her wife’s pain.

Three strikes and you’re out so she let the count stay at two.

She stopped asking. She respected her wife and wanted to protect her. Yet, in the intimacy of night, she would kiss the tattoo that concealed the scar, as if by doing so, she could return to the past and share in those painful memories, ensuring the suffering was no longer lonely or prolonged.

Jiang Yuan noticed Liang Qi’s gaze and looked at her questioningly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Liang Qi replied. “Just thinking about what hairstyle would suit you best.”

“Just tying it up is fine. The style doesn’t matter.”

Liang Qi sighed inwardly, thinking: That’s because you’re beautiful, any hairstyle would look good on you.

In contrast, the eighteen-year-old Liang Qi wasn’t as striking. But her features were well-proportioned, her demeanor bright and warm, her smile infectious making her hard to overlook in a crowd.

Liang Qi styled Jiang Yuan’s hair into two neat buns.

Setting down the comb, she rested her hands on Jiang Yuan’s shoulders and looked into the mirror. “How’s this?”

“Average.”

The carefully crafted hairstyle didn’t earn praise, but Liang Qi wasn’t disappointed. “It’d look better with a different color. Has anyone ever told you that blonde would suit you?”

“High school doesn’t allow dyed hair.”

“Try it someday!” Liang Qi said to her reflection.

“Then I’ll try it!” Jiang Yuan had said the same when faced with her confession.

If you’re willing to trust me, Liang Qi thought.

“Mm,” Jiang Yuan responded indifferently, her tone casual, leaving it unclear whether it was acceptance or mere politeness.

The two lingered in the bedroom until a call came from outside the door: “Yuan Yuan, dinner’s ready! Bring Xiao Liang along!”

“Alright,” Jiang Yuan stood up from the dressing table and said to Liang Qi, “Let’s eat.”

In the living room.

Unaware that Liang Qi would be visiting, Xu Chengyu had prepared only simple home-cooked dishes. Though not particularly refined, they looked decent, and the aroma made Liang Qi eager to try them.

“Sorry, we only have these dishes today. I hope you don’t mind, Xiao Liang,” Xu Chengyu said, seeming somewhat embarrassed, as if worried she might embarrass Jiang Yuan in front of her classmate.

“Not at all! I’m thrilled to taste your cooking,” Liang Qi replied cheerfully.

Noticing neither had served rice yet, she stood up to help. “Auntie, thank you for hosting me. Don’t trouble yourself, let me serve the rice.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have to, Xiao Liang. You’re our guest.”

“Auntie, don’t say that. If Jiang Yuan hadn’t brought me back after I got heatstroke on the road today, I don’t know what would have happened to me.” Liang Qi lifted the lid of the rice cooker and began serving rice for both of them.

She wasn’t sure about Xu Chengyu’s appetite, but she knew Jiang Yuan’s well. Ever since she’d met Jiang Yuan, the woman had never had much of an appetite eating only vegetarian dishes at that. Liang Qi often teased her about it, joking that it was why she was so thin, even asking once if she was Buddhist. Jiang Yuan had merely laughed it off and changed the subject. At first, Liang Qi had deliberately served her more rice, hoping to encourage her to eat more, but she stopped later when she learned that Jiang Yuan had developed stomach problems in high school due to certain circumstances. Forcing her to eat more only made her physically and mentally uncomfortable.

As for Jiang Yuan in high school though not as thin as she was now, she had still been quite frail. Subconsciously assuming Jiang Yuan wouldn’t eat much, Liang Qi filled Xu Chengyu’s bowl to the brim but only gave Jiang Yuan’s small bowl a quarter portion.

Feeling somewhat smug, Liang Qi thought to herself how attentive she was to Jiang Yuan’s habits, remembering every little detail. So, she was completely caught off guard when Jiang Yuan frowned slightly at the meager serving.

Jiang Yuan sighed in exasperation. “This little bit of rice. It’s not like you’re feeding a bird. How is this enough?”

Liang Qi: “???”

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