Chapter 162 As Close as Sisters
They don't answer the phone, they don't reply to messages, and even their social media feeds have become off-limits to each other.
"Zishu, come down for dinner!"
"knew."
She responded verbally, but her tone was perfunctory; she remained seated in her chair without moving.
Her fingers tapped unconsciously on the table, her gaze fixed on the darkening sky outside the window.
The aroma of food wafted up from downstairs, but she had no appetite at all.
Her stomach felt like it was stuffed with cotton, a dull, blocked feeling.
These days, Lin Zhiming took her to high-end restaurants she had never dared to dream of.
Under the crystal chandelier, silver cutlery gleamed softly in the candlelight.
The waiter called out the French menu in a low voice, but she couldn't understand a word he said.
She sat in the soft leather chair, trying her best to maintain a polite smile.
But my heart felt like it was floating in the air, without any anchor.
Those exquisite dishes, once you take a bite, taste like chewing wax.
He taught her how to hold a wine glass, her fingertips lightly resting on the stem.
He described the neon lights he had seen in Hong Kong, their vibrant colors reflected on the surface of Victoria Harbour.
There are also art museums in Paris, such as the Louvre with its sculptures and paintings.
"Sister Wanyin..."
She murmured the name softly, her voice so low that only she could hear it.
She closed her eyes, and scenes from their childhood flashed through her mind.
They used to be as close as sisters.
Qiao Wanyin would stay by her bedside all night when she had a fever, and would save her own food money to buy her medicine.
At that time, she felt that no matter how difficult the world was, as long as Sister Wanyin was there, she was not afraid of anything.
Now, she has to peek into the stairwell before going out, for fear of bumping into Qiao Wanyin.
She grabbed a comb and vigorously combed her hair a few times, the sharp teeth scraping against her scalp, causing a slight stinging sensation.
In the mirror, her eyes looked tired, and the corners of her mouth drooped slightly.
"Wanyin is too stubborn."
She whispered to herself in the mirror.
"What's wrong with Mr. Lin? He's always been very respectful to you and has never overstepped his bounds. Why won't you listen to my explanation?"
Just then, Qiao Wanyin was standing quietly under the old locust tree at the entrance of the military compound.
She had been standing there for two whole hours, and her legs were aching.
My back was scorching hot from the summer afternoon sun.
But she remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the weathered iron gate of the family compound.
She was waiting for Qiu Zishu to come out so she could personally hand her this letter, even if it was just to say a single word.
"Director Qiao, are you waiting for Zishu here again?"
Old Zhang, the gatekeeper, walked out of the guard post with a cane, holding a cup of cold tea in his hand, and handed it to me with a smile.
"I haven't seen her for the past few days. Is she away on a business trip?"
Qiao Wanyin forced a smile and took the cup.
"Thank you, Uncle Zhang."
She spoke softly, her voice a little hoarse.
A gentle breeze swept by, dappling the shadows of the trees.
A locust leaf drifted down gently and landed silently on her shoulder.
She reached out, flicked her fingertips, and the leaf twirled and fell into the dust at her feet.
She looked up and suddenly saw a cloud of dust rising in the distance.
A military green jeep was slowly approaching from a distance.
With the car window half-open, sunlight streamed obliquely into the car, and she immediately recognized the person sitting in the passenger seat.
It's Qiu Zishu.
She was turning her face slightly to the side, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
He was talking to Lin Zhiming, who was driving.
The two seemed to be chatting and laughing.
"Zi Shu!"
Qiao Wanyin blurted it out.
She almost instinctively rushed forward a few steps, her steps faltering.
Qiu Zishu, inside the car, suddenly stiffened, her shoulders twitching almost imperceptibly.
But she still didn't turn around, not even glancing out the car window out of the corner of her eye.
The jeep suddenly accelerated, its tires making a dull thud as they rolled over the gravel road.
Qiao Wanyin stood still, motionless.
She stared blankly in the direction the car had gone, her eyes vacant.
She slowly lowered her head, looking at the letter in her hand that was wrinkled from being soaked in sweat.
The envelope was neatly addressed to Qiu Zishu.
"Zishu, Zishu," she murmured to herself, "You're willing to throw away all our sisterhood of so many years for a man? All these years, I've protected you, helped you, and shielded you from so many rumors and gossip, but now... you won't even look at me?"
"Director Qiao..."
Old Zhang stood to the side, leaning on his cane, and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something to comfort him.
But looking at her distraught appearance...
He swallowed his words again and only sighed softly.
"It's hot outside, you should go home and rest."
Qiao Wanyin took a deep breath.
"It's alright, Uncle Zhang. I'll come another day."
She turned around and slowly walked back the way she came.
Inside the jeep, Lin Zhiming had one hand on the steering wheel, but his gaze was fixed on the receding figure in the rearview mirror.
His lips curled up slightly, revealing a barely perceptible sneer.
Did someone just call you?
He asked casually.
Qiu Zishu paused for a moment, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the seatbelt, her tone somewhat flustered.
"No...no, you must have misheard. It might be the wind, or someone else."
Lin Zhiming didn't press further, only giving a soft "hmm".
"I'm taking you to a special place today. I had a friend bring back some records from France, all old jazz, I'm sure you'll be interested. There's also a bottle of '82 red wine, just waiting for you to open it together."
"real?"
Qiu Zishu's eyes lit up immediately.
The heavy feeling I had just felt has now quietly melted away.
"Is it the new album by that pianist you mentioned? The one who won a major award abroad, the one whose music is as gentle as flowing water?"
You guessed right.
A gentle smile appeared on Lin Zhiming's lips.
He gently placed his right hand over hers, his palm slightly warm.
“I knew you would remember. You’ve always been thoughtful; you even remembered something I mentioned casually once.”
Qiu Zishu's cheeks flushed.
Her fingertips trembled slightly, but she didn't pull her hand back.
Instead, she quietly squeezed his hand back briefly, then quickly let go.
At that moment, she felt like a girl in a fairy tale.
The car slowly came to a stop in front of a small villa.
The wheels made a soft rustling sound as they rolled over the gravel-strewn path.
The afterglow of the setting sun spilled onto the red brick walls, giving this European-style building a soft golden edge.
In the garden in front of the house, roses and lavender bloom quietly.
This is the place Lin Zhiming rented in the suburbs.
Away from the hustle and bustle of the city, it is hidden among the green trees.
A crystal chandelier hangs above the entryway.
Every time Qiu Zishu comes, she is amazed by the exquisite decorations in the room.
"Come on, let's listen to some music first."
Lin Zhiming took her hand and spoke softly.
He led her into the living room, his movements natural and practiced.
He walked to the record player, pulled a record from the shelf, and gently brushed away the dust from its surface.
Then, skillfully, he put the record into the player and pressed the switch.
The gentle piano melody immediately filled the room.
It was a piece of music I had never heard before, with a melodious tune tinged with a touch of sadness.
Qiu Zishu closed her eyes, quietly immersing herself in the moment, her eyelashes trembling slightly.
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