The Little Bookworm Marked Her Ex-aunt - Chapter 20: Little Aunt! You're Here Too!

Chapter 20: Little Aunt! You’re Here Too!

Ji Shiyi saw Shu Yue like this for the first time.

Shu Yue was full of energy. Her eyes, usually dull and unfocused, suddenly sparkled with life and became sharp. Her tone was light and even a bit rushed. When she got excited, she didn’t even pause for breath, determined to finish everything in one go.

Ji Shiyi listened patiently.

Shu Yue talked a lot about bulbuls in one breath, then moved on to other birds in the garden, pointing out several species to Ji Shiyi.

Before this, Ji Shiyi thought all the birds flying in the city were either sparrows or just sparrows.

There was no difference.

“That’s very interesting,” Ji Shiyi said.

Shu Yue’s overheated brain cooled down with cups of tea. After calming down, her face showed that shy expression again.

“Miss Ji, you don’t have to consider my feelings like that,” Shu Yue said.

Ji Shiyi said, “I’m telling the truth.”

“I really enjoy hearing people share what they love. It makes the world feel alive to me.”

Shu Yue knew Ji Shiyi’s words weren’t praising her, but her ears still turned red. She pushed up her slipping glasses with her finger and asked, “Miss Ji, what about you? What do you like to do?”

Ji Shiyi tilted her head, thought for a moment, and said, “Making money. Does that count?”

Shu Yue was a bit surprised. “I thought for you, money was just a number.”

Didn’t people often say that? For rich people, money was just a string of cold numbers.

Ji Shiyi curved her lips. “That’s why I said I like making money, not money itself. Miss Shu, there’s an essential difference between the two.”

At that moment, Shiyi finally stopped clawing at Shu Yue’s coat. She hopped to the windowsill, sat in the sunlight, and seriously licked her paws, as if cleaning off some scent.

Ji Shiyi looked at her and said calmly, “You’re not wrong. Money is indeed just numbers in my account. But making money is different. I enjoy finding patterns, verifying patterns, and controlling patterns. I like seeing the game rules I set come into effect.”

Shu Yue looked at her profile and thought she seemed a bit like Shiyi now.

Arrogant, above everything, her words filled with confidence nurtured by power.

Shu Yue only half-understood the feelings Ji Shiyi described.

She thought birdwatching was a similar feeling—finding patterns in birds and verifying them. But she would never control patterns. Patterns might exist when looking at groups, but with individual birds, they were always unpredictable. And what she loved was that unpredictability gifted by nature.

She never had a moment of setting her own game rules.

She always lived within other people’s rules.

When to go to school, what grades to get—if she had to say, choosing to get close to birds was a choice she made for her life.

Unconsciously, Shu Yue couldn’t help but wonder: if she could set rules for a game, like Ji Shiyi said, and make them work, what would her rules be?

She searched her mind and found it empty.

“What’s wrong?” Ji Shiyi noticed her stunned expression, as if she discovered something frightening.

Shu Yue wasn’t sure if she should discuss this with Ji Shiyi. Maybe because Ji Shiyi always seemed so calm, composed, and wise in her presence, Shu Yue instinctively wanted to seek her answers.

“I realized I don’t have any rules I want to set,” Shu Yue said. “It’s like no matter how things turn out, I can accept it.”

“That’s not necessarily not a rule,” Ji Shiyi said.

Shu Yue smiled. “That’s true.”

“So why did you argue with her just now?” Ji Shiyi suddenly asked.

Shu Yue froze, her eyes wide. “Huh?”

“Your ex-girlfriend,” Ji Shiyi reminded her. “You were going to talk about it, but I interrupted you.”

Shu Yue thought back and realized that was true.

But now, those emotions about Meng Zhiyu—the anger, the frustration stuck in her chest—had somehow faded during her conversation with Ji Shiyi.

So much so that she could calmly tell Ji Shiyi, “It wasn’t a big deal. She asked why I was here, and I reminded her we already broke up, so it’s none of her business. She got upset, didn’t like my attitude, and then we argued.”

“Miss Ji, why are you smiling?” Shu Yue felt inexplicably embarrassed, reflecting that her conversation with Meng Zhiyu was a bit childish.

Ji Shiyi slowly poured tea for herself. The clear tea flowed from the pot’s spout, making a trickling sound like a spring as it filled the cup.

“I think this kind of argument sounds more like something that happens during a relationship, not after a breakup,” she said, setting down the small pot and asking Shu Yue’s opinion. “What do you think?”

“But we already broke up!” Shu Yue said, then seriously recalled and added, “Really broke up, completely broke up.”

Ji Shiyi took a sip of tea, letting the tea’s aroma linger in her mouth, slightly amused. “Let me ask, was there a less complete way of breaking up before?”

Shu Yue faltered, seeing the faint smile in Ji Shiyi’s eyes, softened by the tea’s mist.

She said shyly, “Maybe.”

After a pause, she added, “But this time it’s different.”

As for how it was different, Shu Yue couldn’t say.

Maybe it had nothing to do with anything else. She just felt a bit tired.

“Well then, congratulations on a successful breakup?” Ji Shiyi raised her small teacup toward Shu Yue in a toast.

Shu Yue, hearing such a blessing for the first time, smiled with dimples, lifted her own cup, and clinked it against Ji Shiyi’s.

She corrected her, “No need for congratulations, Miss Ji. This is already in the past.”

Ji Shiyi set down her teacup and glanced at the silver watch on her wrist.

“I have something to do and need to leave,” she said. “Miss Shu, if you’d like, you can stay and explore. The environment here is nice, and there’s a garden further in. I think you’ll find plenty of birds you like there.”

Shu Yue was tempted.

She stood up to say goodbye to Ji Shiyi.

Ji Shiyi’s gaze swept over her shoulder. She took off her suit jacket and handed it to Shu Yue.

Shu Yue quickly said, “No need, Miss Ji. I’m not cold.”

Ji Shiyi said, “This is my apology on Shiyi’s behalf. Also, that day, I was too rough. Did it hurt?”

Shu Yue followed her gaze to her shoulder and saw bite marks. She immediately understood Ji Shiyi’s meaning—her own coat was unwearable and needed something to cover it. She took Ji Shiyi’s jacket, saying it didn’t hurt and thanking her.

As Ji Shiyi pushed the door to leave, Shu Yue looked at her neck. Ji Shiyi’s hair was down, so Shu Yue couldn’t see if there were marks near the gland she had bitten.

Then Shu Yue scolded herself—this thought was a bit shameless.

She held Ji Shiyi’s jacket, lifted it to inspect, and put it on. It was a bit big for her. She lowered her head to smell it, catching a faint white tea scent, not Ji Shiyi’s pheromone.

Calling Shiyi into the bag, Shu Yue walked out too. Before reaching the corridor’s end, she heard a familiar voice.

“Little Aunt! What a coincidence! You’re here too!”

Shu Yue jumped, instantly shrinking into a ball, hiding behind a large decorative vase, not daring to move. After meeting Shiyi’s confused gaze, Shu Yue realized her reaction was a bit ridiculous.

She had broken up, not committed a crime.

Even so, she didn’t plan to stride out and run into Meng Zhiyu. So she crouched and slipped into a narrow passage. She didn’t know who Meng Zhiyu’s little aunt was, but it didn’t matter—she didn’t know her anyway.

She held Shiyi’s bag in her arms.

The cat poked her head out, sniffing toward the sound’s direction.

Suddenly, the kitten’s eyes sharpened.

Outside the corridor, Ji Shiyi turned back, looking at the girl before her. Thoughtfully, her eyes briefly narrowed, then she nodded slightly and spoke in an elder’s tone, “Zhiyu, long time no see.”