The two simply stared at each other. Rong Ting couldn’t even tell if she had actually hummed that note, only feeling the smooth skin beneath her fingertips and the throbbing pulse of blood vessels.
She was just a finger’s breadth away from Ran Jiu’s vital point.
Which was also her own vital point.
Dim light drifted through the room, the crystal lamp above silently rotating from the sudden gust of wind that had swept in. A gentle, ambiguous atmosphere enveloped Rong Ting.
Rong Ting thought that if Ran Jiu didn’t pull away soon, she might not be able to resist hugging her in the next second.
Ran Jiu didn’t move, so Rong Ting had to be the first to break free from this atmosphere, withdrawing her hand.
“It’s too difficult. Let’s call it a day for now.”
Ran Jiu was a bit displeased, still speaking in a coquettish tone, “Don’t you have any patience for me at all?”
Not wanting her to misunderstand, Rong Ting deliberately used another excuse to cover up, “Well, German is just too hard, and its practical use isn’t that broad anyway. If you really want to learn… I’ll teach you slowly in the future.”
“Oh.”
Ran Jiu returned to her bedroom. On the desk lay a thick collector’s edition of a classic novel, which she had bought from the Xixifu Bookstore in the mall after work one day, intending to read in her spare time.
Yet the book remained as pristine as ever, a clear sign she had hardly touched it.
She opened it directly from the middle, revealing a corner of chocolate gold foil wrapping.
Unfolding it revealed the complete gold foil brand label. She tried scanning it with a shopping app, but as expected, nothing came up.
She smiled helplessly.
During the day, Ran Jiu’s mother had called again, urging her to reconsider returning to school. She said she could pull some strings to get her into a non-full-time program where she could still earn a dual certificate. Besides, everyone believed that the exams for a non-full-time program would be no challenge for her at all.
Ran Jiu was tired of hearing this. In the past, she would always brush off such talk with a light refusal.
No resentment, no explanation—just enduring the other party’s scolding before hanging up.
This time, however, she paused to think and asked, “Do you think not having a degree makes me an incomplete person?”
The woman’s voice on the other end faltered for a moment before mumbling, “How can you think like that, child? Everything I do is for your own good. Why did you work so hard to get into university back then? Just to drop out halfway? Xiao Jiu, do you know what people around you are saying? Such nasty rumors… all sorts of speculations. Tsk tsk, how can you not be afraid at all?”
“You have such good qualities, you’re so smart—is it just to become the subject of gossip?”
Ran Jiu took a deep breath, trying to keep her tone calm. “When you remarried back then, did you ever think about whether I’d be scared? Did you ever consider if I’d have trouble adjusting?”
There was a pause on the other end, as if caught off guard. “You… you adjusted just fine, didn’t you?”
“Mom, you know better than anyone how well I adjusted.” Ran Jiu hung up, letting out a sigh as she stared at the blank ceiling.
Her Alipay chimed. Ran Jiu picked up her phone to see that her mother had transferred another ten thousand yuan to her account. This time, however, she had blocked Ran Jiu, preventing her from sending the money back.
Ran Jiu couldn’t help but laugh dryly. She decided to let the money sit there for now, waiting for an opportunity to return it later.
After the call, her mood plummeted, and she found herself sinking into a spiral of overthinking.
A loud crash echoed from the next room.
Followed by a frustrated cry, the dull thud of a cup hitting the floor, and the frantic rustling of tissues being pulled.
Ran Jiu paused in her movements, hearing faint, scattered sounds coming from the room across the hall.
“Stupid! Why did you have to put the water cup next to the computer?”
“Ahhhhh, my entire evening’s work on the literature review—gone!”
“Ugh, how am I going to explain this to the TA?”
Ran Jiu suddenly smiled, her earlier irritation seeming to vanish in an instant, replaced by memories of teasing her.
Rong Ding always reminded her of the gray wild rabbits often seen around Mongolian yurts. Usually, their black bean-like eyes were small, their ears drooping cautiously, moving only when poked—until they got annoyed and raised their fluffy white tails.
For some reason, she always felt there was a deeper meaning in the way Rong Ding looked at her.
Whenever she tried to probe further, Rong Ding would always hide that furry rabbit tail at the last moment and scamper away.
Like waves crashing over a deep abyss, leaving no trace behind.
A crafty little rabbit.
As summer arrived, the semester was already halfway through.
Thinking about her future resume, Rong Ding kept only the Chinese-German tutoring job and reduced its frequency. Instead, she applied for more work-study internships to secure internship certificates.
According to the college’s work-study part-time schedule, it was Rong Ding’s turn to give a career planning lecture at the nearby Third Affiliated Middle School.
Rong Ding’s rhinitis hadn’t fully subsided yet. Triggered by willow catkins and unknown fluff, it had lingered on and off for over a month. These past few days, it seemed to be flaring up again, so she wore a tightly fitted mask whenever she went out.
When she went to the Employment Management Center to request leave, the senior student working there looked up and almost didn’t recognize her.
Rong Ding pulled down her mask to reveal her face. Her bright red nose was particularly noticeable, and the surrounding skin was almost entirely flushed—clearly a severe allergic reaction.
“Oh my, what happened to your face!” the senior exclaimed, leaning in to examine it closely. “An allergy? Is it this bad?”
Rong Ding nodded, her voice slightly hoarse. “Sorry, senior. I was wondering if another student could take over my class. I’ve already prepared the PowerPoint.” As soon as she finished speaking, she quickly stepped aside and sneezed several times.
The senior sat back, still looking surprised. “You really can’t teach like this. Let me see if I can find someone to replace you.”
The message was sent to the part-time group chat, and someone responded within seconds.
Finding a replacement wasn’t difficult, especially since the hardest part—preparing the lesson—was already done. With a ready-made PowerPoint and the chance to earn a class fee, there were naturally people willing to take the job.
The senior sighed in relief. “That settles it. You’re quite responsible—some people just drop their tasks without a second thought.”
Rong Ding nodded repeatedly. “Thank you, senior. Please give the full class fee to the substitute. I’ll continue once I recover.”
“Alright, take care of yourself,” the senior said with concern, adding quietly, “The teachers at Third Affiliated Middle School gave positive feedback. They said you teach very seriously. If possible, we’d like to keep you for next semester and arrange more internship certificates for you.”
A faint smile curved Rong Ting’s lips, though it was hidden behind her mask. “Thank you, senior.”
As she walked out of the Career Guidance Center building, the scenery outside was lovely—green willows and soft poplars swaying gently. Unfortunately, her sensitive nose couldn’t fully appreciate it.
Come to think of it, she and Ran Jiu had a minor disagreement yesterday, and it was related to this.
Recently, the temperature in the capital has been gradually rising, and she had been keeping the window in her room open most of the time. Last night, it suddenly started raining. She was reading a book when she heard the sound of the rain, as if waking from a dream, and went to close the window.
But as soon as she caught a whiff of the damp, rainy breeze, she sneezed immediately. Losing her balance, she bumped heavily against the window and somehow triggered the alarm.
Their neighborhood was already quite small, with narrow gaps between the houses. The alarm blared louder and louder, quickly echoing back and forth throughout the entire area.
Before Rong Ting could figure out what to do, a gust of wind swept past her. Ran Jiu moved swiftly, fiddling with something near the wall crack, and the alarm instantly fell silent.
Rong Ting sniffled, “…S-sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
Ran Jiu didn’t say much at the time, just pointed to a small white remote control and said, “That’s the reset button on the main control panel. If it gets triggered again, just press that.”
“Mm, okay.” Feeling guilty, Rong Ting nodded like a chick pecking at rice.
But the person in front of her didn’t seem angry, maintaining her usual lazy and calm demeanor. She just weighed the remote control in her hand curiously and asked, “Why do you always want to touch this?”
“Huh?” Rong Ting’s astonishment was written all over her face this time. “Um, I accidentally touched it.”
“No, last time I came to see you, you wanted to touch it too.” Ran Jiu seemed genuinely puzzled. “Why are you so interested in this?”
At this point, Rong Ting felt utterly defenseless. If last time could be considered an attempted crime, tinged with her own little thoughts, this time was simply an unwarranted disaster.
“No, it’s just been hot these days, so I’ve been keeping the window open. When it started raining just now, I remembered to close it, and then… then I sneezed and bumped into it.” Afraid Ran Jiu wouldn’t believe her, Rong Ting gestured animatedly as she explained.
Ran Jiu’s light-colored pupils were like deep pools, fixed on her as if trying to determine the truth. “Then you must have quite the strength, triggering the alarm just by sneezing.”
The more Rong Ting tried to explain, the more she felt herself falling apart. Eventually, she simply gave up. “What will it take for you to believe me?”
“I’m not blaming you.” Ran Jiu said in a flat tone. “Philosophically speaking, once a person has a certain psychological suggestion, they’ll do everything they can to achieve it. Even if they encounter obstacles along the way, it doesn’t extinguish the thought. Instead, it makes it stronger, until they resort to any means necessary to accomplish it.”
She even offered a thoughtful analogy: “In simpler terms, everyone has a bit of obsessive-compulsive behavior, whether obvious or not. For example, a high school student might tell themselves that if they can walk down a flight of stairs in three seconds, they’ll do well on their exams. If their parents interrupt them midway, they’ll find time later to return to the stairs and complete the imagined task they set for themselves.”
“The more disciplined a person usually is, the more likely they are to develop an obsession once they form a thought, big or small. Even if they try to talk themselves out of it midway, it’s difficult.”
Finally, her voice softened, yet it always carried a hint of persuasion. “So, I’ve been wondering about your motivation for touching the alarm. Is it just curiosity?”
Under such suggestive and guiding words, Rong Ting felt as if she were being peeled apart layer by layer, her carefully constructed defenses trembling on the verge of collapse.
She frowned, looking a bit annoyed. “I’ve said all I need to say. Why don’t you just take the controller to your room? That way, if I accidentally trigger it again next time I open the window, it won’t be a problem.”
Raindrops tapped against the window, sliding slowly along the trails of watermarks before dripping down, leaving faint, overlapping rings.
Rong Ting’s voice grew softer and softer until it faded away completely.
Sensing her low spirits, Ran Jiu hummed in acknowledgment and quietly withdrew from her line of sight.
When Rong Ting returned that evening, she discovered that the controller for her room’s security device, along with its wiring, was nowhere to be found. The empty spot on the wall stood out starkly, paler than the surrounding area.
It was just a void.