Chapter 56

Ever since Jian Hao gave her blessing to the relationship between Jian You and Zhu Xinsui, the two of them—though they hadn’t announced it to the world—no longer felt the need to be so secretive in their interactions.

During the meal for Tan Yanqing’s birthday, they were constantly back and forth, trading flirtatious glances.

Even Tan Yanqing, who was usually indifferent to her surroundings, finally couldn’t help herself. “Can you two go flirt somewhere else?”

Jian You, who was currently picking fish bones out for Zhu Xinsui, paused. She looked up and blinked at Tan Yanqing. “Are you jealous?”

Tan Yanqing: “…”

Zhu Xinsui laughed, placing a piece of fish into Tan Yanqing’s bowl. “Tan Baby isn’t jealous. Whatever I have, you have too.”

Tan Yanqing rolled her eyes at her.

Jian You couldn’t help but shudder, giving Zhu Xinsui a look. “That’s quite nauseating.”

Tan Yanqing lowered her eyes, replying calmly, “You two have always been this nauseating.”

“Have we?” Jian You looked at Zhu Xinsui.

Zhu Xinsui shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“I don’t think so either,” Jian You added.

“Maybe it’s because someone can’t reach the grapes and says they’re sour,” Zhu Xinsui teased.

“That’s probably it,” Jian You agreed.

“If you’re envious, you should pick a grape and taste it for yourself,” Zhu Xinsui said.

“Isn’t that the truth,” said Jian You.

The two of them went back and forth until Tan Yanqing lifted her head, her cold gaze sweeping over them. She let out a short laugh. “Are you two actually together now?”

“…”

There was one thing they had forgotten to mention: although they were practically inseparable, they had never officially defined their relationship. How could one describe the bond between them? It was that tacit understanding between adults: they would go to bed together, but they weren’t necessarily “a couple.”

One reason for this phenomenon was that years ago, while far away abroad, Zhu Xinsui had heard from other classmates that Jian You had a child. She assumed Jian You had found someone else, and she was also angry that Tan Yanqing hadn’t told her, leading to several years of broken contact.

It was only after she returned to the country that she slowly learned the truth. However, for two people who hadn’t seen each other in years—even if they still held a place in each other’s hearts—it was impossible to suddenly drop the past. Thus, it evolved into their current ambiguous state.

The dining table fell into a brief silence. This was a game where everyone was getting hurt.

Jian You took the fish she had deboned and popped it into her own mouth. After chewing for a moment, she was the first to break the silence. “We’ve always been together. When were we ever not together?”

Zhu Xinsui, who had been staring [Read on BaiLianTales]at Jian You, instantly crinkled her eyes and chimed in: “Exactly, exactly.”

Tan Yanqing gave a huff of laughter. “Then, congratulations are in order.” Her eyes held a flicker of emotion at the sight of the two finally opening up to one another.

After the meal, when Jian You wasn’t looking, Zhu Xinsui took Tan Yanqing’s hand. “Dearest Sister Tan, if you ever need anything, just say the word.”

Tan Yanqing pulled her hand away expressionlessly. “As long as you two don’t call me to complain every time you have a fight, that’s enough.”

“Aww, how is that complaining? It’s a sweet burden.”

“It’s your burden. Don’t force it onto me.”

“Who told you that you were our best friend?”

“I can stop being that starting today.”

“No way. We just celebrated your birthday, and now you’re turning your back on us?” Jian You, walking over, shook her head. “So pragmatic.”

With that, Jian You picked up her coat from the sofa and patted Zhu Xinsui’s shoulder. “Let’s go.” She turned back to Tan Yanqing. “The kitchen is all cleaned up. Don’t drink too much by yourself.”

Surprisingly, the usually self-disciplined Tan Yanqing had taken the initiative to ask for alcohol during dinner. Even now that the meal was over, a glass with wine still sat before her.

Tan Yanqing gave an “Mhm.”

While Jian You was putting on her shoes in the entryway, Zhu Xinsui asked, “What’s ​read the original at bailiantales.com​wrong with you today?”

Previously, no matter how much she and Jian You flirted, Tan Yanqing wouldn’t say anything. Today, she not only commented but poked at the topic they both usually avoided. Though, it did push their relationship a step further.

“Is it because Xiao Hao didn’t come?” Zhu Xinsui asked. She had heard about the situation between Jian Hao and Tan Yanqing from Jian You. She said, “What… are you thinking?”

Tan Yanqing lowered her eyes in silence. When Jian You called out from the entryway, she lifted her gaze and gave Zhu Xinsui a faint smile. “What else could I be thinking? I can’t actually be with Xiao Hao and call you two ‘Mom,’ can I?”

She laughed, but a look of seriousness flashed in Zhu Xinsui’s eyes. “Jian You hasn’t said it outright, but I feel like if you really did that, she might actually kill you.”

“Then you’d better keep an eye on her. I’m a cop; I’ll have to arrest her,” Tan Yanqing replied non-committally.

It sounded like a joke, but after being friends for so many years, Zhu Xinsui could see right through her. Her lips moved as if to speak, but Tan Yanqing had already stood up to see them out. “It’s just work stuff not going well. It has nothing to do with Xiao Hao. The snow on the road hasn’t fully melted yet; be careful on your way back.”

Seeing her like this, Zhu Xinsui only left her with one sentence: “Think it through for yourself.”

After seeing them out, the living room—which had been lively just moments ago—became so quiet that Tan Yanqing thought she could hear the sound of the rain from that night outside the door.

Was it a hallucination? Or was she thinking of Jian Hao again?

She picked up her phone. The pinned conversation had not a single new message. So… she wasn’t even willing to say “Happy Birthday” anymore?

Tan Yanqing picked up her glass and downed the wine in one go. The bitter, strong alcohol was fiery, scorching her throat. Yet her expression remained indifferent. It was as if nothing in the world could make her suffer anymore.

She went upstairs, pausing for a second as she passed the bedroom door, as if she could see the Jian Hao from that New Year’s morning, blocked outside and wishing her a happy year. ​read the original at bailiantales.com​She walked past the bedroom and entered her study.

This was her workspace. On the palm-wood bookshelves, alongside many technical books on networking and a few leisure reads, sat a picture frame. Inside, framed, was a drawing with crooked, messy lines.

Tan Yanqing picked up the frame and sat at her desk, gazing intently at the sky full of stars in the drawing. The corners of her mouth turned up involuntarily. She flipped the frame over and unlatched the back panel.

Suddenly, the frame that appeared to hold only one drawing revealed three. Two were birthday gifts from Jian Hao at age six and seven. The other… was a piece of purple cardstock.

Written on it was: Tan Tan Tan! Bounce the other opponents away! First place is yours! Go for it!

This was the drawing Jian Lai had made to cheer her on back then. She had kept it until now. At first, she didn’t understand what the first line meant. It wasn’t until a certain commercial came out years later, and then the concept of “internet memes” emerged, that she realized Jian Lai was making a joke.

In truth, as Jian Hao’s features matured, Tan Yanqing had felt the urge to compare the handwriting in Jian Hao’s notebooks with the writing on this purple cardstock. If she had, she would have discovered the handwriting was identical. If she still doubted it, she could have asked a colleague in the forensics department to verify it—they would have found the handwriting was undoubtedly from the same person.

But she didn’t. Because she was afraid that Jian Lai was Jian Hao, and Jian Hao was Jian Lai.

Yet she also hoped Jian Lai was Jian Hao. That way, the Jian Lai she fell for wouldn’t be a “scumbag” who vanished without a trace the day after a confession. She would have had her reasons. She wouldn’t have loved the wrong person.

But… how could she accept this?

The days on the calendar passed one by one. She grew numb, trapped in a cycle of conflict and hesitation. For a time, she didn’t even know what she was waiting for. Since she had the answer in her heart, why not confirm it? Why wait for Jian Hao to tell her the answer herself?

Did she really not know why? How could she not know?

It was because her feelings for Jian Hao had changed.

Her feelings for Jian Hao were no longer just those of an elder for a junior; they contained Tan Yanqing’s feelings for Jian Lai. She had taken all those years of suppressed love and hate, longing and resentment, understanding and questioning, pain and desire for Jian Lai, and tangled them all onto Jian Hao.

She was like a parasite. After finding a sliver of possibility, she latched onto Jian Hao. Not only did she live through her, but she also wanted to rely on Jian Hao to give her the answer. She didn’t seek it herself because she was afraid the answer she found would be wrong—and she was afraid it would be right. Regardless, it was a weight she didn’t want to carry or face.

She procrastinated. And in doing so, she tortured Jian Hao.

Whenever she looked into Jian Hao’s eyes, she was always looking at Jian Lai. When speaking to her, as long as she found a familiar feeling, it was as if she were talking to Jian Lai. The intertwined love and hate would flow out uncontrollably, a cycle of lucidity and surrender.

One side of her told her: You cannot treat Jian Hao as Jian Lai. They are two people; they are different. Even if they have the same voice and the same face, they are different. You are Jian Lai’s Miss Marple, her Class Monitor, her beloved—you can only belong to Jian Lai. You are Jian Hao’s Auntie Tan—you can only be her Auntie Tan. You shouldn’t have any feelings for her beyond family…

The other side told her: Jian Hao is Jian Lai. Wait for her. You only need to wait for her to come back. When she does, you will know everything you want to know, and she will have Jian Lai’s memories. Then you can be together. So you can love her, love her to your heart’s content, and better yet, let her love you—only you.

She knew very well: Jian Hao falling for her was a result of her own indulgence and enticement.

She was a sinner. She was a pervert. She was a lunatic. She was an executioner holding a blade, following orders. Even if her heart felt pity, she couldn’t help but swing the blade, letting blood stain the steel.

And the blade she swung at Jian Hao was blunt. It sawed at Jian Hao sluggishly, grinding her wounds until the flesh was a blur. Cruel, bloody.

At that moment, she knew she wasn’t just the executioner, but the one who gave the order. The blade’s rise and fall were her decision. The only one suffering was Jian Hao.

She shouldn’t treat Jian Hao like this. She wanted to stop this relationship; she wanted to call it quits.

But it was too late. Her eyes had already been splattered with Jian Hao’s “blood.” Her ​unauthorized copy​soul had long been captured by Jian Hao. If she wanted to end it completely, she would have to kneel beneath the blade herself.

But this time, who would act as the executioner?

When the clock skipped to midnight on the 4th, Tan Yanqing still hadn’t received a single message from Jian Hao.

Tan Yanqing sat at her desk for a long time. Finally, she put the picture frame back in its place and left the study.