Back to Auntie’s School Days - Chapter 30

Although the weather in October was cooling down, it wasn’t cold enough to warrant a heater, yet the private room felt like a sauna to Jian Hao. She was sweltering.

Especially her face.

“I…”

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something. But the realization that she and Tan Yanqing might actually be dating was so sudden she forgot how to breathe. Her chest began to ache from the held breath until she finally exhaled, gathering the courage to look up at Tan Yanqing.

Tan Yanqing sat by the glass window. The October sun in Nanqing carried a chill, yet it remained dazzlingly bright. Framed against the light, Tan Yanqing’s silhouette was ethereal and hazy, like a bank of mist. Jian Hao couldn’t see her expression clearly—especially with the glasses—she couldn’t read her eyes at all.

It felt like a dream.

Jian Hao’s heart tightened, and the heat in her face began to recede.

“I—”

Creak—

The “bomb” went off again.

Jian You burst in carrying a blue-and-white checkered snakeskin travel bag. Her expression was frantic; she didn’t notice the strange atmosphere between the two. She closed the door behind her with a solemn click.

“You two, come here.”

She walked to the chair closest to the door and slowly placed the snakeskin bag on the seat.

Since Jian You was back, it wasn’t convenient for Jian Hao to say anything to Tan Yanqing. After locking eyes with her for a few seconds, she lowered her gaze and swallowed the words she wanted to say.

“Let’s talk back at the house.”

She stood up and walked toward Jian You.

Tan Yanqing remained seated, picking up her orange juice for a sip. Her gaze drifted between Jian You and Jian Hao, her thoughts unreadable. Perhaps she thought Jian Hao didn’t take her seriously; perhaps she was wondering why Jian Hao obeyed Jian You so readily; or more likely, she was wondering what exactly was going on in Jian Hao’s head.

A young girl’s heart is a sleepless city colored in red, yellow, and blue. Beyond the brilliant city lights, there are always dark corners hiding unknown secrets. The “little person” in the dark corner was shouting, but on the surface, Tan Yanqing merely let her eyes follow Jian Hao. Seeing Jian Hao standing so close to Jian You, she felt the image was an eyesore. She set down her glass and stood up as well.

Jian Hao was asking Jian You, “What happened? Where did you get that bag?”

Jian You hadn’t been carrying anything when she left with Zhu Xinsui.

Jian You gripped a corner of the bag, her usual bravado replaced by a heavy, somber look, like a pool that had just run dry.

“I saw Xinsui to the bus stop. There was a person at the station holding this bag the whole time until Xinsui boarded and left. Just as I started walking back, that person stopped me and said they didn’t have any change for the bus. They asked me to watch their luggage while they went to a nearby shop to break a bill. I watched it for about three minutes, but nobody came back. I saw them enter the shop behind the station, so I went in to look. The owner said the person just walked a circle and left. I checked the shops nearby, but there was no sign of them. I was going to leave it there, but after walking a few steps away, I don’t know why, I went back. I unzipped the bag to see what was inside, hoping to find contact info, but then—”

Jian You pulled the zipper of the snakeskin bag.

Jian Hao’s eyes and mouth snapped wide at the same time. In her shock, she even forgot to cry out. Tan Yanqing walked over, and as she saw the contents, her brows knit together.

Jian You said heavily, “I was terrified. But the only thing I could think of was how lucky I was that I turned back.”

As Jian You spoke, her eyes remained fixed on the contents.

Contents? No, they couldn’t be called “things.”

It was an infant.

A baby who looked less than a month old, with a bit of baby fat, but her round cheeks were flushed with an abnormal redness. She was wrapped in clothes that didn’t fit her—a thin layer. It was impossible to tell if she was cold in this weather. Usually, a cold baby would cry or move, but she didn’t. Was she warm? No, she was in a deep, heavy sleep. Beside her lay an empty box of sleeping pills.

“…”

The three of them stared in silence at the sleeping infant. After a long minute, Tan Yanqing voiced the cruel reality: “She’s been abandoned.”

Jian Hao’s nose felt prickly. “How could someone do this?!” She sniffed. “Let’s take her to the police. Let them find that person and lock them up.”

“Mhm.” Jian You reached into the bag. The opening was too small, and the zipper teeth scraped her hand, but she didn’t feel it. When her fingers touched the baby’s cheek, the heat was so intense it was clearly feverish. She pulled her hand back. “She has a fever. Take her to the hospital first.”

“Okay,” Jian Hao replied, then looked at the bag. “…Still in this bag?”

“Keep the bag for the police to inspect.” Tan Yanqing lifted the child out. She had never held a baby before; the soft body in her hands felt like it might slip away like water, making her posture incredibly stiff.

Seeing this, Jian You peeled off her jacket. “Let me.”

She had held neighbors’ children before; her movements were much more natural than Tan Yanqing’s. She wrapped the infant tightly in her jacket and pulled her to her chest. “She’s so light.”

Tan Yanqing: “Mhm, about six pounds.”

Jian You glanced at her. “You can tell just by holding her?”

“Experience.”

The experience of buying groceries and meat—one lift and she knew if a seller was cheating her on the weight.

Jian You: “…” One thing she disliked about Tan Yanqing was the feeling that she was “posing” whenever she spoke with that expressionless face.

But there was no time to care about that now. They rushed out of the restaurant, hailed a cab, and headed for the children’s hospital.

Jian Hao didn’t have the “scale-in-hand” talent or the skill to hold a baby, so she naturally took over carrying the snakeskin bag. On the way to the hospital, she opened the bag to check the contents. Aside from a bottle of sleeping pills, there was nothing. No money, no clothes, no formula, no note. This meant that if Jian You hadn’t turned back, God knows where this child would have ended up.

A mountainside? A river? Or a random trash can on the street?

A baby fed sleeping pills wouldn’t have made a sound while freezing to death or being attacked by animals in the October air. Jian Hao felt a tightness in her chest. She couldn’t help but curse under her breath, her hand tightening on the bag as she looked at Jian You.

The three were in the back seat, with Jian You in the middle. The child was held steadily in her arms. Though wrapped in the jacket, she left an opening for the baby to breathe. From Jian Hao’s angle, she could see the baby’s lips—colorless, like a withered peach. Even in sleep, the baby’s mouth made a nursing motion. Jian Hao’s heart twitched. “Is she hungry?”

“Probably.” Jian You looked at the driver. “Auntie, can I borrow your phone to call my mom?”

The driver handed the phone to Jian You. She dialed the landline for Jian Sihong’s shop, asking her to buy a bottle and formula and meet them at the hospital.

She couldn’t explain much over the phone. When Jian Sihong arrived with the supplies, she saw the three girls sitting in the hallway. After learning what happened, she asked, “How is the child?”

“The doctor is examining her.” Jian You bit her lip, her legs shaking restlessly.

Jian Sihong set the supplies on a chair and rested her hand on Jian You’s head. “You were scared, weren’t you?” She pulled Jian You into a hug. “You did a good job.”

Jian You wrapped her arms around Jian Sihong’s waist and buried her head in her chest. Jian Sihong smiled, patting her back, then turned to Jian Hao. “Did you call the police?”

Jian Hao nodded. “I did.”

As they spoke, the police arrived. Han Juan recognized Jian Hao immediately. “It’s you again.”

She was the officer handling Jian Hao’s case. She still felt a bit guilty for not finding Jian Hao’s family yet, but she was also puzzled: how could a person as grown as Jian Hao go missing for so long without anyone looking for her? There weren’t even missing student reports from schools. Was she an orphan?

She thanked the nurse who led them and turned to Jian Hao. “Was it you who reported finding a child?”

“It was me,” Jian You said, looking up from her mother’s embrace. Han Juan looked at her. “You were the one who found her last time, too, weren’t you?”

“…Mhm.”

“Well, tell me. How did you find one this time?”

After the explanation, the doctor finished the examination. The sleeping pills weren’t life-threatening, and the fever wasn’t caused by them. It was a lung infection; it was uncertain if she would pull through.

For the next few days, even though the police were watching over the child, Jian You kept running back to the hospital. She was the one who found her, and she felt a sense of responsibility. Meanwhile, the police reviewed surveillance footage from the shops near where the baby was dropped and caught the person responsible.

The reason for the abandonment? The child was sick, the doctor said she couldn’t be saved, and the family was too poor to pay for treatment. Hearing this, Jian You cursed for five straight minutes until Jian Hao stopped her, reminding her not to wake the baby.

Anger aside, the child’s future couldn’t be ignored. Investigations showed the family was large and struggled to put food on the table; even if cured and sent back, she would likely be abandoned again. The child wouldn’t be returned; the police contacted an orphanage. The rest was out of their hands.

That matter concluded.

Suddenly, only three days of the National Day holiday remained.

A perfectly good holiday, and Jian You hadn’t played for a single day, spending four days running to the hospital. She accidentally caught a cold. During the last two days, while Jian Hao accompanied her to the hospital for medicine and IV drips, she also dragged Jian Sihong into making an appointment for a physical check-up, telling her she should have one every year.

Although the illness that eventually took Jian Sihong was incurable, Jian Hao didn’t want to give up. What if an early check-up and intervention changed things?

In a blink, it was the final day of the holiday.

For Jian Hao, the only thing left unaddressed was Tan Yanqing.

It wasn’t that she had intentionally neglected her. Someone had come to Tan Yanqing’s house and taken her away. Jian Hao hadn’t had time to ask where, but Tan Yanqing had pressed the house keys into her hand and left. She hadn’t been back for five days.

Tonight, Jian Hao’s mind was entirely occupied by Tan Yanqing. She wanted to call her, but didn’t know where to dial. She didn’t know Tan Yanqing’s current number. But would her number now be the same as Auntie Tan’s number in the future?

Auntie Tan was so nostalgic; perhaps she had never changed her number.

In the dead of night, Jian Hao stood by the table near the stairs. She picked up the receiver and tucked it against her ear, pressing the digits she knew by heart, one by one. But she never hit the final button to call.

She wanted to ask when she was coming back. She wanted to say she missed her.

But she was afraid that if she called, someone other than Tan Yanqing would answer. Or even worse, she was afraid Tan Yanqing would answer. She feared this was all a dream, and every interaction with her was a moment that might shatter it.

As she pressed the numbers, the display of the old phone glowed green. In the dark corner of the living room, it felt like a tiny green universe. The dust motes floating in the air were like planets; from an observer’s perspective, Jian Hao couldn’t tell where they were drifting.

When she failed to make the call and the screen went dark, she could no longer see the planets, nor herself.

She put the receiver back.

Click-clack.

Jian Hao thought she was hallucinating. She turned her head. In the dim night, the sliver of light from the door widened until a figure appeared.

Jian Hao froze, then immediately ran to the switch to turn on the light.

Tan Yanqing heard the sound of someone running and, knowing it was Jian Hao, tracked the shadow in the darkness. As the light flickered on, they locked eyes.

Tan Yanqing’s brows furrowed in the next second. Jian Hao was in pajamas but wasn’t wearing shoes, standing barefoot on the wood-grain floor. It wasn’t freezing yet, but the floor at night was cold enough. Tan Yanqing looked at the shoe rack. There were two new pairs of cotton slippers she hadn’t seen before—one light pink with strawberries, the other light yellow with oranges. Jian Hao must have prepared them while she was gone. She knows to buy slippers, but doesn’t know to wear them at night? Tan Yanqing put on the yellow ones and walked over with the pink ones, leaning down to place them at Jian Hao’s feet.

“Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

It was already 11:00 PM.

“I wanted to call you, but I didn’t know your mobile number.” Jian Hao stepped into the slippers, gazing at Tan Yanqing. “Why are you back at this hour?” She added, “I thought… you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“The flight was delayed.”

Tan Yanqing looked toward the stairs. “I’m heading up?”

“…Mhm.”

Tan Yanqing looked at her for a few seconds and said, “Go back to sleep as well.”

As she watched Tan Yanqing go upstairs, the rhythmic sound of slippers brushing against the floor filled Jian Hao’s ears. But she couldn’t hear it; her mind only held one thought:

Tan Yanqing didn’t say goodnight to her.