Back to Auntie’s School Days - Chapter 3

The reason Jian Hao feigned amnesia was that she didn’t know if she would ever travel back.

If it was only a temporary trip, that would be fine. But if she stayed here forever and couldn’t go back, she couldn’t exactly live as an undocumented person, could she?

Faking amnesia and filing a police report early on was a better strategy. That way, if anything happened in the future, she would have a clear explanation.

More importantly, this was the only way Jian Hao could think of to stay in Jian You’s house without scaring her.

Time had slipped away between trips to the police station and the hospital; it was now around eight in the evening. The soft twilight had long been swallowed by the gloom. The night was heavy, and a cool breeze made a massive, nameless tree—thick as three men and five stories high—rustle loudly in the complex.

Jian Hao looked up at the tree. She had heard Jian You talk about it before—how the old complex used to have a tree so big and cool that you didn’t even feel the heat while playing rubber-band jump rope in its shade. But after a few years, it was cut down because it interfered with power line construction.

When Jian You spoke of it, her voice was always full of regret.

Jian Hao hadn’t understood back then, but seeing the tree now, she finally understood her mother’s feelings after the fact.

Not only did Jian Hao have no memory of the tree, but even the complex itself felt foreign as she scanned her surroundings.

Yet, she had lived here as a young child.

In 2018, the area was demolished for redevelopment, and they had moved to a different neighborhood. Gradually, her memories of this place had become shrouded in a blue-grey fog, turning blurry and indistinct.

As they entered the apartment building, the sound-activated lights flickered on.

The interior of the building came into sharp focus: on the greyish-white walls, the plaster was cracked and falling off in patches; colorful little advertisements were plastered all over the residents’ walls; the cement stairs were coated in dust; and the reddish-brown paint on the old handrails was peeling…

But with Jian You’s back filling her vision, this musty decay transformed into sparks of light that filled Jian Hao’s heart bit by bit.

It was still unbelievable! She was actually seeing her seventeen-year-old mother!

This was wonderful!

The pity was that she couldn’t hug Jian You and call her “Mom”… but living with her mother—especially a youthful version—was bound to be interesting.

Her mother’s personality, however, hadn’t changed one bit. Jian You was the definition of “a sharp tongue but a heart of tofu.”

No matter how harsh she sounded, all Jian Hao had to do was act a little spoiled, act cute, and make her “backstory” sound a bit more tragic, and Jian You’s “Bodhisattva heart” would manifest.

Just moments after saying Jian Hao couldn’t follow her, Jian You had paused for two seconds upon hearing Jian Hao’s soft sobbing. She turned around and immediately started laying down the house rules for Jian Hao to follow.

Using the methods she used to deal with “Big Jian” to handle “Little Jian”—Little Jian was easily played.

A smile tugged at the corners of Jian Hao’s mouth.

As the two walked up, the sound-activated lights lit up floor by floor.

“Hey, why do you remember me and know my name? We’ve never met,” Jian You asked, glancing back at the person behind her.

Jian Hao had long ago prepared her excuse. She replied calmly, “Didn’t you once climb a wall to save a cat?”

“Yeah.” That was the exact reason Gao Jing made her write a self-reflection essay. The teacher said being a Good Samaritan was fine, but the prerequisite was ensuring one’s own safety; doing something so reckless was unacceptable behavior.

Jian Hao said, “I think that’s when I got an impression of you, so I remembered you.”

In reality, the two of them had discussed this incident on the way to the police station with Gao Jing, and Jian Hao had overheard. She recalled Jian You telling her this story before. Jian You had said she didn’t understand why Gao Jing made her write the essay at the time, but she later realized that protecting oneself is the most important part of being alive.

Hearing Jian Hao’s words now, Jian You found herself agreeing with Gao Jing. Doing good deeds really shouldn’t be done too often—it had brought a heap of trouble right back to her doorstep.

The apartment was on the third floor. Jian You turned the key and opened the door. The scent of stir-fry wafted through the air. She shouted, “Mom, I’m back!”

As she spoke, Jian You bent over to open the shoe cabinet. She was about to grab a pair of slippers for Jian Hao, but when she looked down, she saw Jian Hao was already wearing slippers. The girl seemed a bit cold; her white feet were flushed red from the chill.

Jian You’s eyelid twitched. What exactly was this person doing before she lost her memory? Gao Jing said she was picked up at the school gates, and she was even drunk. Could she have been drinking in her pajamas and gotten alcohol poisoning? Did she drink her brain into mush?

“Why are you back so late?”

Jian Hao’s gaze moved toward the voice and the aroma. A woman with her hair pinned back in a bun, wearing a red short-sleeved shirt and a red apron (the kind given away for free with soy sauce purchases), stepped out from behind the entryway shelf.

The moment Jian Hao saw the woman, her nose prickled. She wanted to cry again.

It was Grandma!

“Oh!” Jian Sihong was startled to see a stranger at the door. After a few looks, she turned to Jian You. “Is this a classmate of yours?”

She waved Jian Hao in. “Come in and sit, child! Dinner just finished. You two can play after you eat.”

“Come in first,” Jian You said to Jian Hao. She dropped her schoolbag, walked over to Jian Sihong, threw an arm around her shoulder, and led her toward the kitchen. “Mom, let me tell you something.”

As she walked, she turned back to warn Jian Hao: “Don’t mess with the stuff in my house.”

“…”

While the mother and daughter whispered in the kitchen, Jian Hao stood at the entryway, her eyes sweeping over every corner of the room.

She remembered.

She remembered this reddish-brown sofa. She had once fallen off it onto the floor and gotten a huge bump on her head. Jian You often teased her, saying that was when she “bumped herself stupid.”

She remembered this yellow cabinet. Grandma used to hide candy and snacks in there. She would always sneak some, and when caught, Grandma would gently swat her hand and scare her by saying if she ate too much, mice would run onto her bed and bugs would crawl into her teeth.

She remembered…

The rooms she thought she had long forgotten weren’t truly gone; they were just buried deep beneath the dust of time. The moment she stepped back into the old house, the dust was swept away by the wind, and childhood memories burst forth like a tornado sweeping the ground.

Jian Hao’s feet moved unconsciously to the cupboard. she picked up a beanbag sewn from blue floral cloth on the table.

Jian You always complained that kids nowadays had nothing but phones and tablets, and that it wasn’t nearly as fun as when she was a kid. Then she would list the things they played with: beanbags handmade by Grandma filled with corn kernels or other grains, hopscotch, cat’s cradle, rubber-band jump rope, “the wolf is coming,” slapping cardboard cards…

Jian Hao’s gaze slowly shifted to the two people whispering together in the kitchen.

They both happened to look at her at the same time. Jian Sihong gave her a smile, then turned back to ask Jian You: “Do you think she’s a thief?”

Jian You had already explained the situation. Jian Sihong understood, but she was still concerned.

“Who knows? But she didn’t react at all at the police station, so she probably isn’t a thief. Still, let her sleep on the sofa tonight. Put the valuables in your room and lock your door when you go to sleep.”

“Does she have any contagious diseases?” Jian Sihong asked again.

Jian You shook her head. “No, the hospital checked. Aside from amnesia, there’s nothing wrong with her.”

Jian Sihong felt a bit more at ease. “Alright.” She turned her head and called out to Jian Hao, “Child, come wash your hands. Dinner’s ready.”

Jian Hao put the beanbag back and replied instinctively, “Coming, Grandma.”

Jian Sihong froze for a moment, then laughed. “Why are you calling me Grandma? Call me Auntie.”

Jian You came out after washing her hands and glanced at Jian Hao. “Even if you have amnesia, do I really look like your mom?”

Jian Hao went “Uh…” and gave a sheepish smile.

At the dinner table, Jian Sihong pushed the dishes toward Jian Hao, urging her to eat. “Child, can you really not remember anything at all?”

Jian Hao shook her head.

Jian Sihong asked, “Then what about your name? You must be able to remember something, right? Otherwise, we won’t know what to call you.”

Jian Hao bit her lip. “Can I… can I take your surname?” Seeing their startled expressions, she added with a look of innocent confusion, “Just until I remember my own name.”

“Well…” Jian Sihong said, “I don’t mind. A name is just a label. What do you want to be called?”

“Jian…”

Jian You thought naming someone seemed quite fun. She pressed her lips against her chopsticks, thinking. But just as she was about to speak, the person sitting next to her spoke first.

“Lai.”

Jian Hao said, “Call me Jian Lai.”

Jian Hao—coming from the future (Hao sounding like arrival in some contexts, or simply a name choice).

Jian Lai—someone “picked up” from the road (Lai meaning “come”).

Jian You thought about it and nodded in agreement. “Jian Lai it is. It suits you.”

Jian Hao smiled slightly. She didn’t want Jian You to name her. If Jian You gave her the name “Hao” now, what would she name her after she was actually born later?

Birth?

Jian Hao’s gaze landed on Jian You’s stomach. Come to think of it, her birthday was in October 2009. From the police report, she knew today was August 2008.

In two months, her mother was supposed to become pregnant with her.

So who was the other person? What did they look like?

For as long as she could remember, Jian Hao had never seen her mother’s partner. There were no photos or information about that person in the house. When asked, her mother would simply say: They’re dead.

She had secretly asked Tan Yanqing, and the answer was the same.

Because she had never seen them, Jian Hao was curious. But ever since she had been teased as a “fatherless child” and cried about it, and Jian You had gone to the school and forced the kid to apologize, she hadn’t cared much. It didn’t matter. Having her mom was enough.

Now that she had a chance to meet them, the curiosity resurfaced. At the same time, she hesitated—should she stop them from getting together?

That way, Jian You wouldn’t have to give birth to her and struggle so hard to raise her alone.

But if she wasn’t born, would she just vanish?

Would she lose the bonds she had with Jian You, Grandma, and… Tan Yanqing?

Speaking of Tan Yanqing—

Lying on the sofa, Jian Hao tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

After dropping them off at the complex, Dean Gao had told her to go to school with her mother tomorrow.

This meant she might be in the same class as her mother and Auntie Tan.

In the darkness, there was a strange glint in Jian Hao’s eyes. Does this mean she can start as friends with the young Auntie Tan?

But before that, there was something more important. She had heard since she was little that Auntie Tan had loved someone in high school, but that person had broken her heart, leading her to lock it away forever.

She figured her confession being rejected by Auntie Tan was likely partly because of this.

She had to first determine if the current Auntie Tan had already been hurt by that scumbag girl.

If not, then one obstacle was removed.

If she had, Jian Hao would definitely find that scumbag girl and get revenge for Auntie Tan! No matter what, no one was allowed to make Tan Yanqing sad!