The Night is Called Gentle - Chapter 57

Xiao Qing, my dear student, you should call me “sister.”

In the rainy season of Jiangnan, the humidity weighs heavier than lingering resentment. Even passing ghosts wouldn’t believe love could exist here.

But Lin Zhixia believed it. To her, this was the most romantic rain she had ever been caught in.

Yan Huaiqing told her that her grandmother once said the plum rain was spun by a goddess. Under the same umbrella, she slowly recounted the stories of every brick and tile in the old house, then led her for a walk along the small river outside the courtyard.

Puddles dotted the stone-paved path. With each step, their reflections in the water shattered and reformed. Yan Huaiqing suddenly paused, reached beyond the umbrella, and broke off a cluster of white locust blossoms.

She spoke softly, “It’s rare to see locust trees in Ancheng. These were all planted by my grandmother she loved them. When I was little, I often climbed the trees to pick the blossoms and got stung by bees.”

“Was Teacher Yan a mischievous little girl back then?” Lin Zhixia asked in surprise.

“You could say that. I definitely wasn’t the quiet type.” She shook the rainwater off the locust blossoms.

“So when did Teacher Yan stop being mischievous?” Lin Zhixia tried to take the umbrella but was gently refused.

When exactly? Probably after what happened to her senior. Growing up is often a matter of one event, one moment.

“I don’t remember.” She plucked a small blossom and handed it to Lin Zhixia, then picked another for herself and placed it in her mouth. “Try it.”

Lin Zhixia mimicked her, chewing the flower. A delicate, sweet yet slightly bitter flavor spread across her tongue. “It tastes like childhood. I haven’t had this in so long.”

Hearing someone younger talk about “childhood” felt somewhat amusing. Yan Huaiqing chuckled, her tone playful. “Teacher Lin, are you lying about your age? This is clearly the taste of my childhood.”

Lin Zhixia laughed, puffing out her chest with shameless bravado. “Fine, I’ll be honest. My real age is actually a few years older than yours, so”

She crossed her arms defensively. “From now on, Xiao Qing, you should call me ‘sister.’”

Yan Huaiqing’s eyes narrowed slightly, her fingers lightly brushing the locust branch. Thinking she was about to be hit with the flowers, Lin Zhixia raised her arms higher in defense.

A flicker of amusement crossed Yan Huaiqing’s eyes. Without a word, she tilted the umbrella, sending a trickle of rainwater snaking down the edge and into the unsuspecting nape of Lin Zhixia’s neck.

Just as Lin Zhixia was gloating over having dodged the flowers, the cold shock of the water made her gasp. She bent over, frantically trying to wipe the water away.

In the cramped space under the umbrella, Yan Huaiqing seized the moment, brushing the locust blossoms against Lin Zhixia’s neck. The slippery, damp sensation against her skin sent her into another flustered, squealing fit.

“Teacher Yan, Teacher Yan! Quick, check if a bug flew into my collar!” Lin Zhixia, both ticklish and terrified of insects, tugged at her collar in a panic.

“It’s a small white bug, right on your collar,” Yan Huaiqing said with feigned seriousness and concern.

“Where? Where? I can’t see it! Teacher Yan, please brush it off!” Lin Zhixia froze, not daring to move, her voice trembling.

“Now, who was it that said should be called ‘sister’?” Yan Huaiqing asked with a straight face, clearly putting on airs.

Realizing this was payback, Lin Zhixia wanted to protest, but the prickly, tickling sensation on her neck felt all too real, as if something was still moving. She had no choice but to lower her head and plead in a soft, pleading voice, “Sister Yan, Sister Yan, please help me.”

Yan Huaiqing still didn’t move.

Lin Zhixia was someone who knew when to yield and when to stand firm. In an even softer voice, she called out, “Sister.” Instantly, her neck and the tips of her ears flushed bright red.

Yan Huaiqing was thoroughly pleased. Suppressing a smile, she raised her hand and gently pinched the back of Lin Zhixia’s neck with her fingertips before saying, “All done.”

Lin Zhixia shivered and turned her head, only to see a locust blossom with its stem pinched between Yan Huaiqing’s fingers. Furious, she grabbed Yan Huaiqing’s wrist and shook it twice. “How is this a bug?”

Yan Huaiqing, however, acted as if nothing had happened. She flicked the petal into the flowing water with her fingers and said, “Sorry, I misjudged.”

“Liar… How could you mistake such a big flower for a bug? You did it on purpose, and now you’re pretending it was nothing.”

Lin Zhixia bared her teeth at Yan Huaiqing but, noticing the other’s distant expression, quickly closed her mouth again.

Under someone else’s umbrella, one has no choice but to lower their head. Swallowing her anger, Lin Zhixia let go and muttered under her breath, “Keep acting. Who could out-act you, a nationally certified first-class actress?” She deliberately emphasized the words “first-class” with a crisp bite.

“Thank you for the compliment.” Yan Huaiqing tilted her chin and turned halfway, leading them forward.

“Will it thunder today?” Lin Zhixia asked, half a step behind.

“I don’t know. Are you afraid of thunder?” Yan Huaiqing glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m not afraid at all. It’s not like I’m the one who lies.” No sooner had she spoken than a low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, as if answering her challenge.

Lin Zhixia froze for a moment, then covered her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a soft, stifled laugh.

“We’re sharing the same umbrella. If lightning strikes, do you think you can avoid it?” Yan Huaiqing glanced at her, the line of her jaw as smooth as if drawn in a single stroke.

Lin Zhixia didn’t care. She let out a “hmph,” stepped into a puddle, and splashed rainwater onto Yan Huaiqing’s pants.

“Childish.”

Yan Huaiqing looked down, making a chopping motion with her hand in front of her, but subtly tilted the umbrella further toward Lin Zhixia, shielding her from the rain.

After the thunder, the rain grew heavier. Not wanting to venture too far, Yan Huaiqing led them back.

“Ms. Yan, did Grandma embroider the little ducks?” Lin Zhixia asked, gazing at the ducks on the river.

“Yes, and the knitted throw you used was also made by her. I left it at home last time and just brought it back.” Yan Huaiqing carefully avoided the puddles as they walked.

“Did you bring the plum wine back too?” Lin Zhixia turned to look at her.

“No.” Yan Huaiqing suddenly smiled.

“Why not?” Lin Zhixia felt inexplicably that she was doing it on purpose or lying again.

“The plums for the wine can’t have broken skins. They need to sit undisturbed.” Yan Huaiqing turned back and asked, “You clearly can’t hold your liquor, so why are you so interested in wine?”

“I…” Lin Zhixia blinked and looked back at her. “Is that not allowed?”

Yan Huaiqing was momentarily speechless. She nodded and focused on the path ahead.

By the time they returned to the old house, both were damp.

“Would you like to take a hot shower first?” Yan Huaiqing closed the umbrella and asked.

Lin Zhixia wiped her neck with a tissue. “No need, it’ll dry soon.”

“Change your shirt. The back is soaked.” Yan Huaiqing tilted her head to look at Lin Zhixia’s shoulder.

“Now you notice it’s wet? Whose fault is that?” Lin Zhixia chided.

Yan Huaiqing smirked and quickly headed upstairs. “Wear one of my long T-shirts. They’re comfortable and lightweight.”

“Okay.” Lin Zhixia stood in place, watching her ascend the stairs. Not having been invited, she felt it inappropriate to follow her into her “boudoir.”

Yan Huaiqing glanced back at her, puzzled, and asked, “What are you standing there for? Aren’t you going to change?”

“Oh.” Lin Zhixia’s heart skipped a beat as she hurried over with light steps.

The layout of the second floor of the old house was even more elegant and cozy, exuding a sophisticated charm reminiscent of the Republican era. Yan Huaiqing led her to the end of the corridor and pushed open a carved wooden door.

“Come in,” she said, walking over to the wardrobe to find clothes.

“Okay.” Lin Zhixia quietly stood to the side and waited.

The room was small but exquisitely designed with refined taste. A rosewood carved bed was placed against the wall, adorned with simple and elegant bedsheets. The furniture and decor were harmoniously arranged, truly deserving of the name “boudoir.”

“Change into this. I’ll wait outside.” Yan Huaiqing picked out a solid-colored T-shirt from the wardrobe and handed it to her. Then she walked out and closed the door, pausing just outside.

Lin Zhixia glanced back at the door twice before quickly changing her clothes. Holding her damp blouse, she stepped out, her gaze lingering for a moment on the large carved wooden bed.

Ah, what am I thinking? She shook her head and opened the door. “Teacher Yan, I’m done changing.”

Yan Huaiqing was leaning against the corridor, looking at her phone. Hearing the sound, she turned around, her eyes lingering on Lin Zhixia for a moment the oversized T-shirt hung loosely on her, her hair cascading beside her collarbone. She looked lovely.

“It suits you well.” She reached out and took the blouse. “Give it to me. The dryer is on the first floor.”

As they walked downstairs, Lin Zhixia stared at her back, lost in thought. Her loosely tied bun had come undone slightly, with a few strands of hair falling against her neck, darkened by the moisture.

“Teacher Yan, could you teach me how to tie my hair up?” she said, unhurriedly playing with her own hair.

“Mm.” Yan Huaiqing responded leisurely.

The sound of the rain seemed to slow time. Before nightfall, Yan Huaiqing found a wooden hairpin and sat beside the sofa to teach her how to tie a bun.

She turned her back to Lin Zhixia, using her own hair as an example. Her movements were slow, teaching step by step. With a twist of the hairpin and a gentle flick, she neatly gathered her hair at the back of her head.

Lin Zhixia knelt on the edge of the sofa, trying to follow along. The hairpin poked her scalp, and she managed to gather only a few strands of hair. Yan Huaiqing turned to observe her actions and reached out to help, but the bun remained messy.

“Teacher Yan, could you demonstrate one more time?” Lin Zhixia pleaded, holding her disheveled hair.

“No.”

“Why?” Lin Zhixia looked up at her.

“My shoulder hurts.”

“Oh, right. Then let’s not do it. With the rain, your shoulder shouldn’t get cold, right?” Lin Zhixia said, about to stand up and fetch a blanket.

Yan Huaiqing suddenly pressed her shoulder. “Don’t move.”

“Hmm?” Lin Zhixia froze in place, feeling Yan Huaiqing undo her bun, her fingers running through her hair, smoothing it out, and gathering it again.

“First, twist your hair a few times, then wrap it from the bottom up twice. The hairpin should glide close to your scalp, pass through the hair in your hand, and then just give it a gentle flick.”

The voice came from above, followed by the movements. Then, the wooden hairpin lightly brushed against her scalp, and Lin Zhixia instinctively shrank her neck.

Yan Huaiqing chuckled softly, tapping her fingertip lightly on the back of Lin Zhixia’s neck. “Are you ticklish?”

“Mm, aren’t you, Teacher Yan?” Lin Zhixia shrank her neck to avoid the touch.

“No.” Yan Huaiqing released her and took half a step back. “All done.”

Lin Zhixia reached back to touch her hair, finding the bun surprisingly secure and symmetrically rounded.

She turned to glance at the floor-to-ceiling window, her silhouette reflected in the glass her hair was tied into a simple chignon with a few stray strands framing her ears, bearing a faint resemblance to Yan Huaiqing’s style.

“Ms. Yan,” she turned around excitedly, tilting her head from side to side and blinking as she asked, “Do I look like you?”

Yet another unexpected question.

Yan Huaiqing’s gaze lingered on her hair for a moment, a ripple of emotion stirring in her eyes. “No,” she replied softly, a smile in her voice. “You’re prettier.”

“How could that be?” Lin Zhixia’s ears flushed instantly. Her fingers unconsciously tugged at the hem of her T-shirt as she muttered under her breath, “Is Ms. Yan also the type to sweet-talk and deceive people?”

“Also?” Yan Huaiqing leaned in slightly, her eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. “Does that mean all the compliments you’ve given me before were just sweet lies?”

Lin Zhixia’s heart raced under her gaze, and she instinctively took half a step back, her knees bumping against the armrest of the sofa.

“I, I meant every word of those compliments! I wasn’t lying,” she hurriedly defended herself.

Just then, a low rumble of thunder rolled outside. Yan Huaiqing glanced toward the window, her smile ambiguous. “Then what does this thunder mean.”

“It’s just passing by. Has nothing to do with me,” Lin Zhixia waved a dismissive hand.

Yan Huaiqing chuckled helplessly and turned toward the kitchen, her posture as straight and graceful as a bamboo stalk.

“How about pork stomach and chicken soup for dinner?” she asked, knowing her little shadow would follow without needing to look back.

“Make sure to add extra pepper,” the little shadow promptly chimed in, trailing after her.

The ingredients had been prepped earlier by the housekeeper all that was left was to wash them and add them to the clay pot. Lin Zhixia stood by, not really helping with anything.

But as Yan Huaiqing sliced ginger with her head bowed, she asked quietly, “Do you want to stay the night?”

Lin Zhixia put on a reluctant act, murmuring, “With all this thunder and rain, and home being so far away… I guess I’ll have to go back tomorrow.”

What she really thought was I still haven’t given her the gift yet.

Yan Huaiqing listened to her feigned hesitation and barely held back a laugh.