Chapter 131: Little Rascal

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But she was not He Chuan; some things could not be fully understood without sharing the same experience. He Chuan might have his own difficulties, but Xin Gan felt that some matters could be communicated between two people. If there was truly a determination to be together, no matter what happened, they could face it and find solutions together, rather than one party giving up unilaterally. That was what it meant to care for the other.

What the other person wanted was simply to be with you. Even if it was difficult, there would always be a way to resolve it.

Cheng Hui was still young and prone to getting stuck in her own thoughts; no amount of persuasion seemed effective.

Xin Gan was anxious and upset—not only did she pity Cheng Hui’s youth, but she also felt that He Chuan’s decisiveness left no room for reconciliation, forcing Cheng Hui to endure such hardships alone.

If Cheng Hui couldn’t overcome this, and something really happened, who would be responsible?

Meanwhile, in Yongcheng, Cheng Jiu was handling matters. After Jiang Meng pleaded with him, she kept sending messages begging him to spare her, saying her grandmother was about to have surgery and that the money issue could not have any more problems.

Once her grandmother’s condition stabilized, she would confess everything to the police and explain the truth.

Cheng Jiu hadn’t replied. He had someone check Jiang Meng’s bank statements and found an unexplained transaction, likely the bribe from He Cheng to buy false documents. That money was urgently needed for Jiang Meng’s grandmother’s surgery.

It was life-saving money.

But the source of this life-saving money was not clean.

This matter could have a significant impact on Xin Gan, so it couldn’t be handled hastily.

Xin Gan was abroad accompanying Cheng Hui and met a former schoolmate who was a psychologist—a fellow countryman named Dr. Ye. Xin Gan happened to tell him about Cheng Hui’s situation, and he expressed a desire to meet her.

Xin Gan arranged a convenient time, informing Cheng Hui in advance but did not reveal that the person was a psychologist; she simply said it was a friend to meet.

With Xin Gan there, Cheng Hui was in a slightly better state and at least did not reject the idea, nodding slightly.

On the weekend, Dr. Ye came to the hospital, bringing some small gifts for Cheng Hui.

Cheng Hui was very wary and, upon seeing Dr. Ye in person, became frightened, pulling the blanket over her face in obvious fear.

To understand her condition, Dr. Ye would need to ask about her living environment, especially after arriving in London.

Xin Gan comforted Cheng Hui for a long while before she relaxed somewhat and spoke unclearly, “I’m unhappy. Being here, I feel uncomfortable.”

Dr. Ye listened patiently and nodded, “Do you have people or things you really dislike?”

“Yes,” Cheng Hui lowered her head. “Many classmates don’t like me, and I don’t like them either.”

“Would changing classes help?”

“No. The people I dislike are everywhere, all the time.”

Dr. Ye smiled gently. “Do you dislike me too?”

“No. You’re a doctor. I know you’re here to save me.”

She used the word “save,” which surprised Dr. Ye slightly. He asked, “Do you think you need saving?”

“Yes,” Cheng Hui stared at him intently, as if struggling in stagnant water for a long time before finally seeing hope. “I need saving.”

…

Xin Gan accompanied Dr. Ye out of the ward. Once outside, he said, “Her condition isn’t too severe yet, but if left untreated, it could become serious. Fortunately, she is still relatively clear-headed and aware that something is wrong and wants to be saved. That’s why she used the word ‘save.’”

Xin Gan’s heart raced with worry. “What should we do?”

“Don’t worry. Since we’re old classmates, leave her case to me.”

“Thank you. Don’t worry about payment—I’ll pay you according to your rates.”

After all, this was his profession, not a free service.

Dr. Ye smiled sheepishly. “No rush. I trust you. I’ll treat her for a while first and see how it goes. I can’t let down an old friend.”

Xin Gan said, “No matter what, thank you. The fact she was willing to talk to you so much just now shows she trusts you.”

Dr. Ye sensed the pressure and said, “You’re too polite.”

Over the next week, Dr. Ye came four or five times. Initially, he focused solely on psychological counseling without medication. His philosophy was that if counseling could work, there was no need for medication, since drugs don’t always cure psychological illnesses and can damage the liver. If therapy was effective, there was no need to medicate for now.

Xin Gan stayed in London quite some time. Local classmates heard she was back and came to gather.

Dr. Ye said it was a good opportunity to have Cheng Hui go out and interact with people. She didn’t have to speak if she didn’t want to, just quietly be there.

He also advised Cheng Hui to take a leave of absence from school for treatment, since school was one of the sources of her unhappiness. She could return to classes once better; after all, she wasn’t learning much now, so attending was just a waste of time.

Xin Gan agreed.

She contacted Mrs. Cheng, who had no objections and consented.

So, soon, Cheng Hui stopped attending school.

To care for Cheng Hui better, Xin Gan rented an apartment where they could live together, allowing her to watch over and accompany Cheng Hui at all times.

Xin Gan brought her to visit a classmate’s home. Cheng Hui was quiet and stayed close to her side. Xin Gan hadn’t told the classmate about Cheng Hui’s situation beforehand, hoping they would treat her normally without special attention to avoid pressure on Cheng Hui.

This was also Dr. Ye’s suggestion, who was present as well.

During this time, Liang Yang also visited Cheng Hui several times. He met Xin Gan and learned who she was.

Liang Yang’s visits became more frequent, but Cheng Hui didn’t seem to welcome him much. Liang Yang noticed. When Xin Gan was away, he quietly asked Cheng Hui, “Do you find me annoying? I come to see you, but you don’t seem happy.”

Cheng Hui’s expression was indifferent. “No, I’m happy; I just can’t smile.”

“You little liar. You just find me annoying. If you’re unhappy, I won’t come anymore.”

“I told you too much before. I’m afraid you won’t keep secrets.”

“I won’t,” Liang Yang stared at her. “Since you told me, I won’t tell anyone else.”

“You promised.”

“I did,” he smiled. “So you won’t kick me out now, right?”

“Well, next time can you eat enough before you come? My sister-in-law can’t cook; I don’t want her to work so hard.”

Liang Yang thought she was annoyed because he always came piggybacking on meals but was too shy to ask for money.

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Liang Yang and Cheng Hui were close, and he treated her well, always finding ways to cheer her up—though sometimes he annoyed her.

Xin Gan felt Liang Yang might have feelings for Cheng Hui and was uneasy, fearing something might happen again.

Xin Gan stayed in London longer but needed to return to Yongcheng to handle some studio matters. She told Cheng Hui, who reassured her not to worry, saying Liang Yang would keep her company.

Xin Gan grew more worried but had to catch her flight. She planned to check the studio and return to London if all was well.

Soon after Xin Gan returned, Jiang Meng found her and contacted her directly.

Jiang Meng was Cheng Jiu’s ex-girlfriend from university. Xin Gan knew about this incident; Jiang Meng had been at a class reunion.

Jiang Meng invited her to meet near the university town. Xin Gan initially hesitated because Jiang Meng’s forging of documents had left He Cheng unscathed and carefree. But Jiang Meng said she only wanted to talk simply.

Xin Gan went.

Jiang Meng seemed to have dressed up for the occasion. She was actually quite pretty, but her age showed in wrinkles at the corners of her eyes—no amount of skincare could erase them. She lacked the means or energy for cosmetic surgery.

When she saw Xin Gan, Jiang Meng smiled bitterly, thinking men were the most straightforward creatures in the world—no matter their age, they liked young, beautiful girls.

Cheng Jiu was no exception.

He liked Xin Gan probably because she was young and pretty.

Would Cheng Jiu still like Xin Gan so much when she was his age?

Jiang Meng saw Xin Gan as her younger self and believed once the novelty faded, Xin Gan wouldn’t last with Cheng Jiu.

She was certain of it.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Jiang Meng stood and extended her hand.

Xin Gan shook it politely, calm and composed. “You asked me out. What is it?”

Jiang Meng appraised her and smiled, “I want to talk about Cheng Jiu. I never got the chance before, so I don’t want to miss it today.”

It was a cold day; Jiang Meng wore only a thin coat, her hair tied casually. She wore light makeup to look a bit better and less disheveled.

Xin Gan was unadorned, barefaced but still more attractive than Jiang Meng, who thought Xin Gan was flaunting her youth recklessly.

“What to talk about?” Xin Gan was curious. What else was there to discuss? Cheng Jiu? What about him?

She already knew everything; Cheng Jiu hadn’t hidden anything.

Jiang Meng invited her to sit and talk. They sat on a bench by the roadside. Xin Gan tightened her collar against the chill.

“You probably know about my relationship with Cheng Jiu. No need to beat around the bush. We dated in college for about a year and a half.”

Cheng Jiu had told her this but didn’t share details, nor did Xin Gan probe; it wasn’t worth it.

She wasn’t idle all those years abroad.

Although they were betrothed from childhood, they never met. There was no emotional foundation; Cheng Jiu could have rejected the arrangement and been with another girl, which was understandable. She wasn’t angry when she met him—he was already thirty then. If he had never dated anyone, people might question his orientation.

Jiang Meng studied Xin Gan’s expression but couldn’t read it clearly. She pursed her lips and continued, “Actually, this happened long ago. There’s no need to bring it up. Let’s just chat casually today.”

Xin Gan raised an eyebrow, giving a faint response.

“After so many years, I didn’t expect to meet him again. I was surprised. Back then, I wasn’t the only one who liked him—our dorm had three girls who liked him. Don’t be mad; he’s outstanding, so it’s normal many girls liked him. I don’t know why he chose me.”

Jiang Meng recalled the past with mixed feelings and subtle nostalgia.

To be frank, she regretted breaking up with Cheng Jiu.

If she had tried harder, maybe she’d be the one with him now.

She blamed her own fear and insecurity. Looking back, it was probably low self-esteem—thinking she wasn’t good enough for such an excellent man. What if he found someone better? She would be a joke.

Xin Gan listened like an outsider, hearing about Cheng Jiu’s college days. To her, it seemed an insurmountable gap. She didn’t know Cheng Jiu as a student or what he was like then. Cheng Hui said he was mischievous and troublemaking as a child, quite different from her. Having grown independent early, she developed a detached and self-reliant personality—what others called cold and difficult.

“You don’t know, he had a lot of friends then and was quite the player. Don’t be fooled by his serious look now. But the school was strict, and his major involved frequent field training. I rarely saw him, which might be why he didn’t like me as much later.”

Jiang Meng looked at Xin Gan. Her expression was gentle but her eyes were red, showing reluctance and regret over her past actions.

“Sorry for rambling. People at our age tend to dwell on important past things.”

Xin Gan calmly took out a tissue and handed it to her. “I understand. Maybe I’ll feel the same at your age. But no matter how much you cherish the past, it’s gone. We must look forward.”

Jiang Meng paused, accepting the tissue. “Thank you.” Then added, “I mean no harm. I just feel…”

“I know. I understand,” Xin Gan interrupted. “Actually, Cheng Jiu told me about those things. He confessed he dated someone in university. I don’t see anything wrong. We were betrothed since childhood but never met because I went abroad early. He wasn’t keen on the arrangement either. I get it.”

Jiang Meng had heard from Cheng Jiu’s friends about the betrothal but hadn’t cared much, thinking it was a joke. She hadn’t expected it to be real.

Jiang Meng asked, “Then how did you two get married?”

“I came back after graduation to find him and wanted to call off the betrothal. I didn’t want to marry a man I didn’t love. Yes, I went to Beiyu myself. After spending some time together, I found he was a good person. After some events, I gave up on breaking it off and married him.”

Xin Gan smiled with relief. “Miss Jiang, I envy your story. They say college love is unforgettable, and it probably is. That’s why you remember it so well. But it’s all in the past. I don’t think it’s a big deal. I wasn’t part of his past life, but I am part of his future. I hadn’t intended to say this, but since you said it’s just a casual talk, then I’ll say it: Cheng Jiu’s heart belongs only to me.”

The Xin Gan of old would never have stooped to say such things to others. She was probably just angry today, able to feign calm on the surface but inwardly bothered.

Bothered that she had missed out on his past life and that others had been there before her.

Jiang Meng’s face was complex. After a long pause, she said, “I understand.”

The opportunity she gave up paved the way for someone else.

Cheng Jiu had said he would return after a few years and then get the marriage certificate.

But she couldn’t wait that long. A woman’s youth is limited. She couldn’t wait, so she broke off with him.

But Xin Gan had gone.

Jiang Meng looked at her rough hands and couldn’t help but ask, “If I had gone to Beiyu back then, would things be different today?”

Xin Gan didn’t answer. That wasn’t her place to say.

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Xin Gan left first. Jiang Meng remained seated on the bench, hugging her knees and soon breaking down into tears again.

Regret—deep, intense regret.

How quickly she had given up then, and how deeply she regretted it now.

…

Xin Gan returned home and bent down to take off her shoes. Several cats immediately came over, rubbing against her legs and meowing softly.

Her heart softened. She bent down to pick up one cat and sat on the sofa petting it.

Cheng Jiu returned early. Opening the door, he saw Xin Gan holding a cat and watching TV.

He was overjoyed, putting down his keys and quickly wrapping his arms around her. “Why didn’t you say when you were coming back?”

“Aren’t you busy? I didn’t tell you.”

Cheng Jiu hadn’t been home for several days. He knew she was coming back but not the exact time.

Xin Gan set down the cat and pushed him away coldly. “You have stubble, it’s prickly. Don’t come near me.”

Cheng Jiu frowned and touched his chin. “Been busy these days, forgot. I’ll shave later. Let me hold you for a bit.”

“No.”

Cheng Jiu: “Hmm? No?”

Xin Gan shook her head firmly. “I don’t want to be held.”

“What’s wrong?”

Cheng Jiu noticed her cold tone, something rare. He watched her carefully but saw no obvious problem.

“Nothing. I’m tired. I’m going to shower and sleep. You can handle dinner yourself.”

Cheng Jiu’s embrace went empty. She showed no reluctance and went straight to the bedroom. The cats followed her inside, and the bedroom door closed again. He was left staring at the closed door.

She must be very tired, he thought.

…

Xin Gan took a shower. The wound on her wrist had scabbed but would leave a scar. Wrist scars were hard to remove. She stared at it for a while, thinking about getting a tattoo to cover it.

The cats waited by the bathroom door as long as she showered. When she came out, they meowed again.

Xin Gan thought they were hungry and hurriedly changed clothes, then opened the door to let them out for food.

Cheng Jiu was busy in the kitchen. Since she was home, it was time to cook.

Xin Gan heard the kitchen noises, pursed her lips, and returned to the bedroom. Her phone rang. She picked it up and saw a message from Jiang Meng:

“I’m very sorry. I lied to the police. I know you must be very angry now. I wanted to apologize when I asked you out today, but the conversation went off track. I’ve told Cheng Jiu the truth. After my grandmother’s surgery, I will confess to the police. I hope you can understand—I’m truly desperate.”

Xin Gan was stunned for a very long time.

Cheng Jiu was still thinking about how to coax Xin Gan. He had cooked her favorite dishes, opened a bottle of wine, and pulled out all the stops.

But Xin Gan was even angrier. At dinner, she sat at the table, only drank a bowl of soup, ignored Cheng Jiu’s various attentions across the table, then said she was full, took her bowl to the kitchen, placed it in the sink, and went to rest in the bedroom.

Cheng Jiu hesitated, not knowing what to say. He lost his appetite and followed her into the bedroom.

Xin Gan lay down, took a book to read. Hearing the door open, she focused harder but couldn’t concentrate.

Cheng Jiu pretended to pass by and went to shower. Afterward, he came out, but Xin Gan was still reading without looking at him.

The atmosphere was tense; even the slowest would sense something was wrong.

Cheng Jiu took her book away and tossed it on a side table, sat beside her, and looked her in the eye. “Did I do something to upset you?”

Xin Gan’s expression was indifferent. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Then you’re unhappy?”

Xin Gan didn’t look at him, lifted the blanket to retrieve her book, then lay back down to read.

Cheng Jiu took the book again, his expression serious. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to.” He scolded her, making Xin Gan even more upset. She had just heard all those stories from Jiang Meng that day. Now the main character of those stories was scolding her. She suddenly felt unreasonable, but deep inside she was uncomfortable.

Cheng Jiu frowned, eyes sharp. “You don’t want to talk? You have to.”

“I’m not under your control. If I don’t want to talk, I won’t.”

Cheng Jiu reached out and pinched her chin. Though his gaze was fierce, his tone softened. “What’s wrong? Why the mood? Tell me. Let me hear it.”

The sudden change caught Xin Gan off guard. She pressed her lips together but said stubbornly, “Why should I tell you?”

Cheng Jiu sighed and rested his forehead against hers. “Sweetheart, who upset you? You can tell me, right?”

Who else but him?

Xin Gan’s chin hurt from his pinch. She frowned. “It hurts.”

“Where?”

As soon as she said it hurt, Cheng Jiu immediately let go, examined her carefully, then held her injured wrist. “It’s scabbed over. Does it still hurt?”

“No, not there.”

“Where then?”

Xin Gan stared at him unwaveringly, took his hand, and placed it over her chin. “Here.”

Cheng Jiu: “You hurt your chin? Your clothes are torn. Let me check if there’s a wound.”