Back to Auntie’s School Days - Chapter 47

Jian Hao walked out of the kitchen.

She didn’t say a single word.

Tan Yanqing knew she was angry. Having watched her grow up, she knew exactly what kind of temper Jian Hao had.

But she didn’t chase after her. She simply stood by the sink, her downcast gaze finding a random object to anchor onto, staring at it blankly. Just as before, her eyes lost focus, looking through things rather than at them.

However, this lapse only lasted two seconds before Tan Yanqing composed herself and set to work on the ribbonfish.

—I’ll just have to coax her with good food first.

Just as she slit open the belly of the fish, footsteps sounded outside the kitchen. From the sound of it, she was heading toward the entryway… toward the door.

Tan Yanqing froze, her body shifting instinctively toward the kitchen door. But she paused again, thinking she should just let Jian Hao go; if she was angry, let her be angry, let her ignore her. Yet, hearing the person outside stop at the entryway—likely changing shoes—Tan Yanqing changed her mind: if she didn’t go out now, it would only make her look even more guilty.

She hurried out of the kitchen, pushed through the curtain, and stood at the doorway, looking toward the entrance.

She saw that Jian Hao wasn’t carrying her backpack. Looking back, the books on the coffee table were gone, but the backpack was still standing there half-open—she didn’t intend to leave for good.

When she looked back at Jian Hao, her tone softened as she asked, “Where are you going?”

“To the supermarket to buy some things.”

Jian Hao was bent over putting on her shoes. She lifted her eyes slightly to glance at her, her face puffed out with indignation. But seeing her come out, she still asked, “Do you need anything?”

“…” The words “No” were on the tip of her tongue, but they turned into: “A bag of salt. Buy a bag of salt and come back.”

At a time like this, if she said she didn’t need anything, it would make it seem like she was angry with Jian Hao too.

“Mhm.”

Jian Hao went out the door.

The house fell silent once more.

Tan Yanqing steadied herself, turned around, and instead of going back to the kitchen immediately, she walked over to the coffee table. She crouched down by Jian Hao’s backpack—a pale, almost-white pink Converse bag.

One she had bought for Jian Hao.

From the half-zipped bag, she pulled out the books that Jian Hao had shoved inside in her anger. Before she even opened them, she was stunned by the sheer number of sticky notes tucked between the pages—though she had already been privately amazed by Jian Hao’s diligence earlier.

She flipped through all five books.

Blue sticky notes: sentences underlined in pen regarding theories of time travel.

Green sticky notes: historical examples and reported incidents of “time travel” through the ages.

Red sticky notes: underlined equations and conjectures regarding the mechanics of time travel…

Jian Hao had categorized everything so that before telling Tan Yanqing about her experience, she could ensure Tan Yanqing had a deep understanding of the subject. She knew that for a top student like Tan Yanqing, simply talking wouldn’t be enough; she had to provide evidence and a logical process.

Didn’t Tan Yanqing believe in science?

This was science.

Tan Yanqing’s gaze softened.

As a police officer, she knew how to commit a “crime” without leaving a trace. She put the books back exactly as she had found them. But as she was putting the last one back, a slip of paper fell out from between the pages.

It drifted lightly to the floor.

Tan Yanqing picked it up. It was half the size of an A4 sheet, covered in dense scribbles from when Jian Hao was solving math problems. At a glance, she saw that several answers were wrong. She instinctively flipped it over to see if the scratches on the back were incorrect as well—thinking that when Jian Hao returned, she would see if the girl understood those problems; if not, she would explain them to her.

When she flipped it over, Tan Yanqing’s gaze instantly froze on the center of the paper.

There, in elegant handwriting, were three words: Tan Yanqing.

It was immediately obvious: Jian Hao had thought of Tan Yanqing while working on her problems and instinctively written her name down. Perhaps because it had Tan Yanqing’s name on it, she couldn’t bear to throw it away, so she’d tucked it into her book.

Tan Yanqing was thin, but years of running, boxing, and fitness training meant her arms were pure, powerful muscle. Even two hours of training wouldn’t make her fingers falter, yet now, the hand holding the slip of paper trembled.

After two breaths, she tucked the paper back into the book and slid the book back into the backpack.

When Jian Hao returned from the supermarket, Tan Yanqing was still in the kitchen.

She placed her purchases on the inner edge of the coffee table, where they weren’t immediately visible, then took the bag of salt Tan Yanqing had asked for and entered the kitchen. She didn’t try to walk quietly; from the moment she entered the house, rounded the corner, and stepped into the kitchen, Tan Yanqing heard her.

Perhaps because Tan Yanqing had just poured oil into the pan, she didn’t turn around, simply saying softly, “You’re back.”

Jian Hao gave an “Mhm,” followed by a sudden, “Oh dear!” that sounded like a heavy sigh.

Only then did Tan Yanqing look at her. Despite it being the dead of winter, Jian Hao was eating a half-finished “Little Pudding” ice cream bar. Seeing her look over, Jian Hao held the ice cream to her lips.

“Careful you don’t get a stomach ache,” Tan Yanqing said, turning her gaze back to the stove.

Jian Hao stood beside her, let out a short laugh, finished the ice cream in two or three bites, and walked to the trash can.

“I didn’t think much of it before, but after staying in 2008 for two months and suddenly coming back to the present, I forgot how to use mobile payments. Just now when I went to pay, I instinctively reached for cash. I searched forever, only to find the candy wrappers Tingting stuffed in my pocket.”

After tossing the ice cream stick, she stood beside Tan Yanqing again, watching for a reaction. As expected, it was as calm as a windless lake.

Jian Hao pursed her lips, stopped talking, and walked to the side. She saw the seasoning jars next to Tan Yanqing; the salt jar was already full, so the bag she bought would naturally have to go into the cabinet.

She was intimately familiar with Tan Yanqing’s kitchen; the spice cabinet had been the same from 2008 to 2025. She pulled the bag of salt from her pocket, opened the cabinet, and just as she was about to put it in, she saw five or six bags of salt already sitting there!

The spice cabinet was opposite the gas stove. Jian Hao arched an eyebrow and turned to look at Tan Yanqing’s profile. “There’s so much in here already, and you still made me buy more?”

Tan Yanqing replied flatly, “There’s no harm in stockpiling salt.”

Jian Hao laughed. “Stockpiling it one bag at a time?”

She put the salt inside, closed the cabinet, and walked back to Tan Yanqing’s side. She hid her hands behind her back and leaned her upper body slightly toward her. Her current attitude toward “Auntie Tan” was becoming more like her attitude toward the young “Tan Yanqing”—the formal restraint she usually showed an elder had faded into a light, teasing tone.

“Did you think I wouldn’t come back after going out, so you made me buy salt just to make sure I’d have to return to give it to you?”

The implication was that Tan Yanqing couldn’t bear to lose her.

Tan Yanqing glanced at her but didn’t speak.

A smile danced in Jian Hao’s rounded eyes. “I forgot to show you something just now. Wait here.”

She trotted out in her slippers—patter-patter. Then she trotted back in—patter-patter.

She held an old book with a yellowed cover and peeling paint up to Tan Yanqing’s eye level, ensuring she could see it without even moving her head.

“I don’t know if you remember this, but not long after I arrived in Class 2, you went to the library with Xinsui to borrow books. You borrowed this one, but returned it after only two days. Later, I went to the library and borrowed it once, too.”

Jian Hao pulled out the library card from inside. Like the book, the card was so yellowed it looked like a spirit or a ghost hidden in the library stacks. Having been in the library so long, it had surely cultivated a soul of its own. Both the card and the book carried that damp, post-rain scent unique to old paper.

“Once I borrowed it, I knew why you returned it so quickly—the content is incredibly boring.”

With that, she held the library card right in front of Tan Yanqing’s eyes:

[08.9.3 Tan Yanqing]

[08.9.5 Jian Lai]

Not many people borrowed this book; the card only had five names on it. Their names were on the third and fourth lines, visible at a glance.

“I spent a long time searching for this in the library,” she complained playfully, then winked mischievously at Tan Yanqing.

Her meaning was clear: Not even you knew about this. Let’s see how you talk your way out of this one.

Tan Yanqing remained silent. Seeing her stumped, Jian Hao hummed a little tune in a good mood. Seeing that the food was almost ready, she left the kitchen with a parting: “Officer Tan, keep it up~!”

But before she fully left, she added one more thing.

“I already called my mom. I’m staying over at your place again tonight.”

Tan Yanqing’s lips moved, but when she turned her head, Jian Hao was already gone, leaving only the slightly swaying door curtain.

For just the two of them, they didn’t need many dishes—braised ribbonfish and stir-fried shredded potatoes with peppers. By the time the two dishes were ready, the rice was finished too.

Tan Yanqing brought the potatoes out first. When she reached the table, she saw Jian Hao sitting on a cushion, hunched over the coffee table doing homework. The fish took a bit longer, and while waiting for it to finish, Tan Yanqing stayed in the kitchen. She wiped the counters again and again and cleaned every used utensil.

When she finished, it was still early. She folded her arms and leaned against the counter, staring out the pitch-black window. But there was nothing to see outside. All she saw was her own blurred reflection.

She looked at herself, locking eyes with her own image. It was a long, slow process. It wasn’t until she smelled a faint hint of burning that she snapped back, turned off the heat, and plated the fish.

“Time to eat.”

She carried the fish out. She didn’t look back at Jian Hao as she exited the kitchen. She placed the dish on the table and turned around, only to see Jian Hao sitting at the coffee table, head tilted back as she downed a green can of beer.

“?!”

Tan Yanqing paused for a moment, then hurried over. “You went out just to buy alcohol?”

Jian Hao had already finished two cans and was drinking the third. She’d drunk them quickly, but she wasn’t quite drunk yet. Hearing Tan Yanqing, she looked up.

“Mhm.”

Holding the beer, she leaned back against the sofa, as if supported by it, finding the courage to lay everything bare.

“The reason I drank that day—the day after I finished crying—was because I wanted to see if I could travel back to 2008 again…

“Did I tell you? I traveled because I was sad about failing my confession to you, so I drank and got drunk.

“And the day I traveled back, wasn’t I at your house… drunk right here? Do you remember? So I thought getting drunk was the way to travel.

“I tried it at my house the other day, but it didn’t work… Now, I’m trying it at your house.”

As she spoke, Tan Yanqing had already reached her side. Seeing her silence, Jian Hao said, “Did you forget?”

She was asking about the time she got drunk at Tan Yanqing’s house. The buzz was starting to hit her; she had completely forgotten—how could Tan Yanqing possibly forget that night?

She patted the sofa, then patted herself. “It’s okay. If I can travel back this time, I’ll tell you who I am, so you don’t have to… so you don’t have to…”

She repeated it twice, unable to remember what she wanted to say. Tan Yanqing, standing over her, leaned down to snatch the beer from her hand.

But Jian Hao dodged. She waved her hand toward the bottom of the coffee table and whined, “There’s more over there, don’t steal mine.”

Then, she suddenly giggled, braced her arms behind her, and sat up on the sofa. One leg dangled on the floor while the other was propped up on the cushion. She slumped there, looking up at Tan Yanqing with a grin. “But you think it’s bitter. You can’t drink it~”

She chuckled. “Tan Yanqing, you’re no good.”

You’re just a little shrimp.

She stared at Tan Yanqing and suddenly let out a “Huh?”

“Why did your glasses change?”

She sat up a bit more, staring at Tan Yanqing from left to right. “Your hair changed too. Why is it tied up?”

Then she slumped back down, muttering, “But you look good like this too…”

“You look good no matter what…”

She looked at Tan Yanqing and suddenly felt thirsty.

She licked her lips, her eyes narrowing as she beckoned to her.

“Tan Yanqing, come here.”

She was going to kiss Tan Yanqing!!

Tan Yanqing never refused her. So when Tan Yanqing came over, she would make her lean lower, and lower. When Tan Yanqing was close enough, she would suddenly sit up, hook her arms around her neck, and give her a massive kiss on the cheek!

Hehe! I wonder if it’ll give her a fright?

The next second, Jian Hao’s alcohol-blurred eyes saw Tan Yanqing indeed leaning toward her. Without even waiting for a request, Tan Yanqing slowly lowered her body.

As she got closer and closer, Tan Yanqing’s face was like a blooming flower—the closer it got, the more beautiful it became. Jian Hao was mesmerized, completely forgetting her plan.

It wasn’t until Tan Yanqing’s face turned slightly away from her line of sight that she snapped back to her senses. Tan Yanqing reached out to take her beer.

Jian Hao dodged.

Tan Yanqing looked at her. “Give me the beer.”

Jian Hao shook her head, holding her arm over her head like she was protecting a family heirloom, reaching as far away as possible. Her face was full of earnestness as she mumbled, “I still have to go see you.”

A dark flicker passed through Tan Yanqing’s eyes. She was speechless for a few seconds. She propped one hand on the sofa edge, bringing her face directly in front of Jian Hao’s, looking down at her. “I am right in front of you. Where else are you going to see me?”

“No you’re not! You aren’t Tan Yanqing! You’re—Auntie Tan!”

Tears came as quickly as they could. Jian Hao suddenly burst out crying. “Why won’t you admit it? You clearly know I’m Jian Lai, so why won’t you admit it? Is it… is it because you don’t want me anymore?”

Tan Yanqing’s gaze fixed on her. Looking at the girl with eyes full of tears, she let out a soft, barely perceptible sigh of helplessness. “You’re drunk,” she said.

“I want to be drunk! Only if I’m drunk can I go back. I have to prove to myself that I’m not lying, and I don’t want you to keep searching anymore. I want you to be happy.”

With that, she lifted the beer to drink again, but Tan Yanqing’s arm blocked her. Unable to reach it, she sat up. Just as she brought the can to her lips, her wrist was caught.

She looked over. In her blurred vision, she saw Tan Yanqing’s double image. Thinking she was dreaming, she murmured:

“Auntie Tan, I want you to be happy…”

“I am happy,” the dream-image replied.

She didn’t quite believe it. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Then why aren’t you smiling?” she said. “Only if you smile does it mean you’re happy. And you look beautiful when you smile.”

“I’ll smile, but you have to give me the beer.”

In Jian Hao’s mind, traveling back was still the priority. For a moment, she had no intention of giving up the alcohol. She even hugged the can to her chest like a protective mother.

Tan Yanqing couldn’t help but chuckle. Her cool eyes curved. “Good girl.”

When she said the word, she smiled again. Under the influence of such beauty, Tan Yanqing easily took the beer from Jian Hao’s hand.

She turned to put the can on the coffee table. “Waaaaah!” A howl of a sob made her shoulders jump. She turned her head back. Jian Hao was weeping uncontrollably.

“But the young Tan Yanqing isn’t happy!”

Tan Yanqing froze.

Jian Hao lunged directly into her arms, collapsing against her lap, grabbing her arm as a pillow and burying her head deep into the crook of her elbow. Her broken sobs rang out again and again: “Auntie… Tan Yanqing isn’t happy… Tan Yanqing isn’t happy…”