Rekindling Lost Love (GL) - Chapter 1

Summer Solstice, Z City.

The temperature was steadily climbing, and oppressive summer heat had engulfed the entire urban village.

Ji Cen’an was trapped in a nightmare, unable to break free, sinking deeper into all the terrible things she had done in the past.

She saw that woman again. Back when the Ji family was still at the height of its glory, Ji Cen’an had remained high above everyone else—flamboyant and arrogant, with everything exactly as she remembered it…

The woman was graceful and captivating, gentle in appearance yet unyielding to the bone. She was as cold and proud as the moon in the heavens, something one could gaze at but never reach.

Everything about her was perfect. The only problem was that by the time they met, the woman had already given her heart to someone else. She did not love Ji Cen’an. She looked down on her, her eyes always brimming with disgust and loathing, regarding her as the lowest kind of scum.

Ji Cen’an had not cared. Not in the slightest.

She had exhausted every scheme at her disposal to pursue her, eventually plucking that pure and untainted flower from its lofty peak. Yet after obtaining her, Ji Cen’an had not cherished her. She let Nan Jia do as she pleased while thoughtlessly crushing her pride, acting overbearing and tyrannical without ever realizing how despicable she was.

Nan Jia hated it, yet she never left her.

They were together, but they tormented each other. Neither would bow her head. Both were covered in sharp thorns, determined to make the other suffer.

Their relationship became a shackle that trapped them both.

Ji Cen’an was extraordinarily patient. Her long, slender fingers traced the elegant contours of the woman’s profile before slowly traveling downward. She gently lifted the woman’s delicate, angular chin, forcing her to face her.

She gazed down at her from above, silently studying her.

The woman struggled and turned her face away, refusing to let her come any closer.

Ji Cen’an bent down and leaned toward her ear, calling the woman’s name with intimate ambiguity. Her tone was indulgent and lingering, like a whispered murmur.

“Nan Jia…”

Nan Jia recoiled, gritting her teeth.

Disgust filled her gaze. She despised Ji Cen’an more than anyone else.

As though some nerve had been struck, Ji Cen’an instead became delighted. She chuckled softly, her lips nearly brushing Nan Jia’s, with only the slightest distance separating them. They were so close that each could feel the other’s uneven breathing. All it would take was a small turn of the head for their lips to meet.

“What is it? Are you still thinking about your old flame? You still can’t forget her?” Ji Cen’an asked quietly. She brushed aside the loose curls of black hair that had fallen across Nan Jia’s forehead, gently tucking them behind her ear.

Repulsed by her behavior, Nan Jia pressed her lips together and endured it without a word.

Ji Cen’an dragged the pale tip of her fingernail along the tender skin at the side of Nan Jia’s neck, moving downward inch by inch until she reached her vulnerable, vital throat. Pressing the cool pad of her finger against it, Ji Cen’an brought her red lips so close that they nearly bit Nan Jia’s ear. Lowering her voice, she enunciated every word in a quiet whisper.

“You’d better give up on that as soon as possible. Don’t even think about it.”

“Nan Jia, you’re mine…”

…

She had been obsessive, growing worse and refusing to let Nan Jia go.

She had neither known how to cherish her nor understood restraint.

Her possessiveness had been overwhelming, and she had gone increasingly too far in the ways she tormented Nan Jia.

She had been an unrestrained lunatic. Determined to grind down Nan Jia’s sharp edges, Ji Cen’an once won a verbal wager between them and demanded that Nan Jia get a tattoo on her smooth, alluring lower back—a mark belonging exclusively to Ji Cen’an, personally etched there by her own hand.

Nan Jia was someone who kept her promises. She lay there with her bare back exposed, completely motionless, her face deathly pale.

Ji Cen’an’s gaze settled upon the clearly defined groove of Nan Jia’s spine, briefly sweeping over the narrowest part of her waist. Taking her time, she asked with feigned concern, “Does it hurt?”

Nan Jia did not respond, continuing to play the mute.

Ji Cen’an said indifferently, “Even if it hurts, you’ll have to endure it.”

Nan Jia finally answered, cursing her.

“Ji Cen’an, the day will come when you get what you deserve.”

Ji Cen’an remained perfectly composed and scoffed. “Is that so?”

Then she added with complete unconcern, “I’ll be waiting.”

The tattoo was finished.

A large patch of Nan Jia’s fair skin had turned red, making it particularly conspicuous.

Ji Cen’an was exceptionally pleased. In high spirits, she pulled Nan Jia over to stand before a mirror. Leaning close to her temple, she greedily inhaled her scent twice before asking like someone deranged, “Does it look good?”

Nan Jia raised her hand and slapped her across the face.

Smack—

…

Ji Cen’an awoke.

She sat up on the hard wooden bed, bracing herself with her left hand. Her entire body was drenched in sweat. The faded, worn, pale-gray T-shirt she wore had been soaked through, its thin fabric clinging to her chest and back and outlining the shapely curves beneath. She looked as though she had just been hauled out of the water.

Her surroundings in reality were entirely different from those in the dream. They belonged to two worlds that had nothing whatsoever to do with each other.

Her formerly lavish and extravagant life was gone. In its place were poverty and decay: walls with peeling surfaces and damp seeping through them, window frames mottled with rust, dust-covered countertops…

The cramped single room was stiflingly narrow. Including the bathroom, toilet, and kitchen, the entire place measured only a little over ten square meters. There was no telling which garbage heap the many pieces of old furniture had been picked from or how many years they had been in use. The handles on some items had already rotted away, while their doors could no longer close, leaving nothing but broken shells that stood there taking up space.

It took Ji Cen’an quite a while to calm herself. Only after she had completely shaken off the dream did she reluctantly move, raising an arm to tug at her damp shirt.

The weather was scorching. The blazing sun outside had yet to set, and it was still early, with some time remaining before nightfall.

That afternoon nap had lasted long enough. She had lain down after lunch, only to wake and find it was already past six.

There was no air conditioner in the rented room. It was thirty-four degrees Celsius outside, and the room felt like a steamer that had just been placed over the fire. The oppressive heat infused the air with an indescribable odor.

Sweat beaded along Ji Cen’an’s temples and coated her palms. The hair sticking to her neck and collarbones had clumped into damp strands.

Her body felt sticky and uncomfortable.

Turning to look outside, Ji Cen’an found the glow of the setting sun painfully bright. She instinctively raised an arm to shield her eyes. Once she had fully collected herself, she stood, stepped down from the bed, put on her shoes, and found a clean set of clothes to take into the bathroom.

The bathing area was tiny and directly beside the toilet. It could be crossed in two steps, and the moment she turned around, she was facing a wall.

There was not even a door—only a tattered piece of cloth serving as a curtain. The overhead light was so dim and feeble that it might as well not have existed.

The Ji Cen’an of the past would never have set foot in such a decrepit place meant for those at the very bottom of society. She would not have come here even if it killed her. But now, she had no choice and was no longer particular about such things.

These days, she was a penniless debtor, worse off than even those at the bottom. She deserved nothing more than to live in this dark, miserable state. To her, this room with its monthly rent of two hundred yuan was already quite decent.

She was lucky simply to have somewhere to stay. How could she afford to be picky?

Besides, after leaving Z City, she had spent so long struggling at the bottom that Ji Cen’an had grown accustomed to living like this. She did not find the place particularly shabby and could make do with it.

After all, things were different now. The Ji family had fallen long ago, and Ji Cen’an had not been that spoiled young heiress standing above the clouds for a very long time. She no longer possessed the confidence she had enjoyed as a wealthy second-generation heiress. Surviving until today was already a stroke of tremendous luck. She could not concern herself with much else.

The shower water was cold, a stark contrast to the restless heat.

When the chill struck her without warning, Ji Cen’an shuddered violently, her entire body trembling with it.

Even in the sweltering summer heat, bathing in cold water was difficult to endure.

There was nothing she could do about it, however. The water heater was broken, and the landlord had repeatedly failed to send anyone to repair it, so she could only make do.

She forced herself to endure it for half a minute. Once she had adapted to the icy water, Ji Cen’an turned to face the showerhead and closed her eyes, letting the water pour over her head. She took a shallow breath, her full chest rising and falling heavily twice before she carelessly wiped a hand across her face.

She washed the front of her body, using the opportunity to cool her head as well.

She still felt somewhat trapped in the lingering remnants of her earlier dream. An inexplicable anger rose within her, as though something were lodged in her chest.

So much time had already passed. She had clearly severed herself completely from those years and had never once dwelled on them, yet this time, she had dreamed about all that nonsense.

Perhaps she had been away for too long. Now that she had returned to this familiar place, it was inevitable that something would stir her memories, causing her subconscious to recall a particular period of her life.

Ji Cen’an did not take it too seriously. After considering it for a while, she decided not to dwell on it.

She rubbed her face a couple of times, then turned around and continued rinsing her back and the rest of her body.

In less than fifteen minutes, she shut off the water and casually pulled a white towel from the stainless-steel rail.

After haphazardly drying herself and rubbing her hair, she shuffled half a step in her flip-flops and pulled the curtain halfway open with a swish. She tossed the towel over her shoulder, then bent down and retrieved her undergarments from the low storage rack outside the bathroom before putting them on.

The instant she bent slightly at the waist, the long, deep scar across Ji Cen’an’s back gradually came into view beneath the soft white light. It resembled a slender snake, twisting across her skin in an ugly and horrifying fashion—a testament to the dangerous accident she had once suffered.

Ji Cen’an could not see the scar herself and paid it no particular attention. Once she was more or less finished, she left the bathroom and sat down beside the bed again.

Her hair remained neither fully wet nor dry, droplets clinging precariously to its ends.

There was no hair dryer in the room, so she could only towel it a few more times, then sit in her loose camisole and wait for it to dry naturally.

Only after everything was done did Ji Cen’an finally settle down and calmly sort through her present circumstances.

Her return this time was no accident. She had come back to deal with certain matters and clean up the mess left behind by the Ji family. She had no other choice.

Three years ago, the Ji family had collapsed like a mountain. Their many followers scattered like frightened birds and beasts, desperate to distance themselves. The rest of the Ji family—including Ji Cen’an’s own parents—had all fled, leaving Ji Cen’an alone to take the blame. Those seeking revenge and repayment had nearly killed her. She had only managed to escape after nearly sacrificing half her life.

She had risked returning to Z City because she had received reliable information regarding the movements of a key individual who had once worked for the Ji family. Now that the uproar had died down somewhat, she wanted to see whether she could find that person, follow the trail, and ultimately track down the Ji family members responsible for this disaster.

For the moment, however, she had made no progress whatsoever. Ji Cen’an had been unable to find anyone and would need to keep waiting.

The problem was complicated and difficult. There was nothing she could do about it in the short term.

Ultimately, her abilities were limited. It could not be helped.

Ji Cen’an was in no hurry. She picked up her phone and checked it, then put it back down when she saw there were no messages.

Warm wind poured through the window and suddenly swept toward her.

It carried the languid, earthy smell of the grimy street below, faintly mixed with the foul, fishy stench of accumulated waste fermenting in the heat. It was extremely unpleasant.

Ji Cen’an frowned and involuntarily raised her head.

The dark-brown factory wall opposite stood tall, blocking everything around it. Apart from the dim, ash-gray surroundings, there was nothing else to see.

A moment later, Ji Cen’an withdrew her gaze and lowered her eyelids halfway.

Three years had brought a complete upheaval. Fortune had changed hands, and she had fallen into such desperate circumstances.

She wondered how certain other people were doing now…