The Little Bookworm Marked Her Ex-aunt - Chapter 39: We Still Have a Future, Right?

Chapter 39: We Still Have a Future, Right?

Half an hour later, Shu Yue received a message from Zhou Miao.

She turned back and walked.

Lin Chu immediately saw the shopping bag in her hand and curiously approached her: “What did you buy?”

Shu Yue hid the shopping bag behind her back: “Nothing.”

“I was going to ask earlier.” Lin Chu looked at her, staring at her face, “Where are your glasses? Why haven’t you worn them since dinner? Can you see?”

Shu Yue pulled Lin Chu’s clothes to make her speak quieter and explained: “The glasses are still here. I put them in my pocket.”

“Then why aren’t you wearing them?” Lin Chu asked carelessly.

Shu Yue couldn’t explain this to Lin Chu.

She felt many people looked over because of their conversation, and Ji Shiyi was among them.

Shu Yue quickly pulled Lin Chu and moved aside a bit.

Lin Chu, puzzled, was about to speak but noticed her junior sister’s expression was off and quietly closed her mouth, which wanted to keep asking.

Fine.

This shopping bag, these glasses, probably had something to do with a woman.

Patting Shu Yue’s arm as comfort, Lin Chu stopped talking.

The director arranged the return trip nearby, planning to have Meng Zhiyu and Ji Shiyi in one car, with Lin Chu following, just like when they came.

“No need.” Meng Zhiyu told the director, “The hotel and the guesthouse aren’t on the way, Director. Don’t trouble my aunt. I’ll go back with you all.”

The director thought it made sense and said: “Then, Director Zhou, you and your student pick someone to ride in Boss Ji’s car. The other one can go back with Little Meng and the others.”

Shu Yue’s nerves tightened.

Heavens.

Did it have to be chosen like this?

“Alright, Little Yue, you go back with your senior sister and the others. I’ll take the crew’s car.” Zhou Miao quickly arranged.

Meng Zhiyu was clearly not satisfied with this result, opened her mouth to say something, but Wen Yiting, standing beside her, reminded her softly and coldly: “Zhiyu, this isn’t appropriate.”

Meng Zhiyu’s impulse was suppressed.

She stood in place, watching Shu Yue get into her aunt’s car.

Her fingertips tightened, silently clenching into an unwilling fist.

Shu Yue had no intention of sitting in Ji Shiyi’s front passenger seat, but her senior brother and sister lacked any tact. As soon as the car door unlocked, they followed the principle of returning the same way they came and rushed to the back seat.

Lin Chu’s butt already touched the back seat before she realized, secretly cursing in her heart, and turned to look at Shu Yue.

Shu Yue braced herself and took the last spot in the car.

Ji Shiyi’s front passenger seat.

Her car was like her person, clean and neat, without any extra accessories. The whole car looked like it just came out of the factory.

As soon as Shu Yue sat in the car, her nerves tensed up. In Ji Shiyi’s presence, the hand holding the shopping bag didn’t know where to go. The rustling sound of the plastic bag rubbing echoed in the quiet car.

Shu Yue tried to keep her gaze forward, looking less nervous. But she couldn’t help noticing Ji Shiyi’s glance, which made her even more uneasy. She felt just sitting there was about to deform her.

“Buckle up.” Ji Shiyi reminded.

Shu Yue turned her head: “Huh?”

Ji Shiyi shook her head helplessly, pulled up her own black seatbelt across her chest, and looked at Shu Yue.

Shu Yue understood, quickly put down the shopping bag, reached for the seatbelt, pulled the black strap long, and snapped it into the buckle.

Perhaps her movement to buckle the seatbelt was too forceful, the glasses in her pocket slipped out and fell under the seat.

Shu Yue was almost embarrassed to death.

She wished she could dig a hole through the car’s floor, keep digging, scoop out the dirt, and bury herself in it.

Desperately, she picked up the fallen glasses.

Ji Shiyi only glanced and said nothing.

In the back seat, Lin Chu tried hard to control her expression, making herself look less gossipy.

The second senior brother didn’t understand anything, turned his head, saw his senior sister’s weird expression, got startled, and asked quietly: “What are you doing?”

Lin Chu gave him a profound look, shook her head, and made a shushing gesture.

The return trip was overly quiet in the car.

The window was half-open, the summer night breeze came in, accompanied by the mountain sounds at night, forming a quiet melody.

Shu Yue’s heart couldn’t calm down, her fingertips toyed with the glasses’ temple, tapping intermittently, revealing her unease.

When the building of the small courtyard came into view, Shu Yue finally felt she could breathe. She had already planned and rehearsed in her mind which movements to use smoothly to get out of Ji Shiyi’s car without looking too flustered.

The SUV slowly stopped on the path.

Shu Yue activated her emergency plan, opened her mouth to say Miss Ji, thank you. But Ji Shiyi didn’t give her a chance, her first sentence breaking Shu Yue’s prepared plan.

“Lin Chu, you guys go down first. I have something to say to Shu Yue.”

Shu Yue looked at Lin Chu for help.

Lin Chu, showing rare senior sister responsibility, didn’t immediately follow Ji Shiyi’s arrangement and asked: “Boss Ji, what do you want to say to my junior sister?”

Ji Shiyi wasn’t afraid to reveal anything.

“Private matters.” She said these two words openly. The natural confidence from her superior position was impossible to ignore or refute.

Lin Chu looked at her, then at Shu Yue, gave the latter a ‘good luck’ look, pushed the second senior brother’s back, and quickly got out.

If it were Meng Zhiyu, Lin Chu definitely wouldn’t have gotten out.

After all, she still remembered the consequences of leaving Meng Zhiyu and Shu Yue alone last time.

Until today, the small cut on Shu Yue’s face hadn’t fully healed, still leaving faint traces.

But if it was Ji Shiyi, Lin Chu felt things wouldn’t go that far.

Lin Chu was present for everything today, from when Shu Yue turned back upon hearing Meng Zhiyu call her aunt, she saw it all.

As an outsider, she didn’t know how far these two had progressed behind the scenes, but judging from Ji Shiyi waiting all afternoon on Shu Yue’s birthday without disturbing her outing with friends, Lin Chu felt Ji Shiyi deserved a chance to talk to Shu Yue alone.

Kicking the third junior brother, who was lingering to hear gossip, Lin Chu herded both junior brothers back to the house like sheep.

The car’s space was left for the two of them.

Shu Yue lowered her head, looking at the glasses in her hand.

“Miss Ji.” She asked with difficulty, “What do you want to say to me?”

Ji Shiyi wasn’t foolish; she saw every cautious and instinctively defensive action, the subconscious urge to escape, the painful self-conflict, all displayed clearly on Shu Yue.

She sighed in her heart.

“Didn’t eat the bread?” she asked.

Shu Yue didn’t expect Ji Shiyi’s first question to be this, so mundane, completely unlike the sharp or interrogative tone she anticipated.

This made her instinctively prepared responses useless, and she could only look up at Ji Shiyi in confusion, answering honestly: “Haven’t eaten yet.”

“Not hungry?”

Shu Yue shook her head.

Really no appetite.

Her mind suddenly recalled a science article she read, which said the stomach was a person’s second brain, more like an emotional organ than a digestive one.

When a person’s emotions were low, their appetite often swung to extremes.

Either they couldn’t eat anything, or they thought they could eat everything.

Shu Yue felt she belonged to the former.

“What are you thinking about?” Ji Shiyi asked.

Shu Yue answered instinctively: “I’m thinking about the relationship between appetite and emotions, and how this situation actually works.”

Was it caused by some bacteria? Or did a person’s emotions, as subjective will, interfere with the stomach’s function?

Strange questions popped up one after another. Realizing she was spacing out again, Shu Yue bit her lip, immediately felt annoyed, raised her eyes, and sincerely apologized.

Ji Shiyi’s hand rested on the steering wheel, tilting her head to look at her: “Why apologize?”

Her tone held no blame, more like a gentle reminder.

Shu Yue paused and said: “We were talking, but I got distracted.”

Ji Shiyi raised an eyebrow, her tone light but firm: “Do you think I’d get mad over something like this?”

Shu Yue carefully caught Ji Shiyi’s words, trying to discern the meaning of each, and worked to explain her reaction clearly: “No.”

She chose her words cautiously, slowing her speech: “I apologized, not because I unilaterally thought you’d be mad over this… but… but because I think, in my view, this isn’t proper behavior.”

The car fell silent for a moment, only the dashboard’s faint light and the dim moonlight outside remained.

Shu Yue could hear her heart beating a bit fast; such a long-unfamiliar explanation felt uncomfortable.

She actually loved clarifying things, not wanting others to misunderstand her intentions. But most times, this approach was a bit ‘too much.’

Not everyone liked or needed explanations.

‘You’re overthinking’ or ‘I didn’t think that much’ were the usual responses Shu Yue got.

Meng Zhiyu even thought explaining was just making excuses, so she always interrupted her.

Over time, Shu Yue stopped doing it.

But now, in front of Ji Shiyi, she mustered a bit of courage again.

“Why isn’t it proper?” Ji Shiyi asked.

Her questions today seemed unusually many, yet her tone remained gentle.

Shu Yue glanced at her helplessly, not understanding why she kept digging, but still tried to continue: “Because…” Shu Yue paused, groping to express her thoughts, “because you wanted to talk to me, I should focus on the questions you raised, not suddenly drift off in thought.”

Her voice was soft, and when the last note fell, her self-blame couldn’t be hidden.

Ji Shiyi raised an eyebrow, her gaze softened by the moonlight, like silent snow in winter, gentle yet cool.

“You’re right. I do want to talk to you properly, and as you said, I’d hope this process is focused.”

Her words were like a pebble gently dropping into water, stirring faint ripples.

Shu Yue’s heart was tightly gripped by this sentence.

She didn’t dare look at Ji Shiyi, only lowered her eyes, as if hit by some emotion, quietly bowing her head.

See.

She knew it.

She made that mistake again.

Meng Zhiyu used to argue with her over this, saying her thoughts were too erratic, always silently drifting to another planet, infuriating her.

Words she had long pushed to the back of her mind suddenly surged up, etched into her skin’s instinctive reactions, unstoppable.

Her lips moved, a lump of unnamed emotion in her throat, and she said softly: “Sorry.”

Ji Shiyi’s eyes deepened, she raised her hand and snapped her fingers in front of Shu Yue’s bowed head.

“No need to apologize to me.” Seeing Shu Yue look up at her, Ji Shiyi’s tone softened further, “Shu Yue, this is who you are.”

“Your thoughts jump, always easily moving from one idea to another. That’s you, so I have no reason to be mad.”

Shu Yue’s logical processing system faltered.

Outside the car window, a breeze passed, and the tree shadows swayed lightly. Shu Yue suddenly felt the self-blame and tension in her chest had nowhere to go.

“But you just said you hoped—”

“You said it too, it’s just a hope.” Ji Shiyi said firmly, “Shu Yue, it’s not a demand. How to handle the difference between hope and reality is my own task. You don’t need to take responsibility for it.”

“I want to talk to you because I want to hear you speak, not because I want you to speak according to my expectations.”

After clarifying her stance, Ji Shiyi paused, looking at Shu Yue.

Like a steady, firm river suddenly slowing down quietly, enveloping a small stubborn stone in its center, cautiously confirming.

“Do you understand? The difference.”

Shu Yue certainly understood.

She wasn’t dumb; she grasped what Ji Shiyi meant.

She also caught the faint worry in Ji Shiyi’s suddenly softened inquiring tone.

Shu Yue opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing came out.

The thorns that had just grown in her body were all carried away by the gentle current, leaving only the soft vulnerability beneath the moss and scars on the stubborn stone’s surface.

She looked up at Ji Shiyi, her gaze still so steady, as if it could catch everything.

Shu Yue’s voice was hoarse: “Then, Miss Ji, what if I still get distracted in the future?”

Ji Shiyi slightly curved her lips: “So, you mean we still have a future, right?”

“—!”

Shu Yue was thrown into confusion by this.

Ji Shiyi teased her, then stopped and said: “Shu Yue, can I understand it differently? The word ‘future’ means you won’t avoid me anymore, right?”

“I don’t know.” Shu Yue said softly, “I really don’t know.”

“Miss Ji, I didn’t mean for things to turn out like this.”

From the moment she realized Ji Shiyi was Meng Zhiyu’s aunt, Shu Yue’s panicked, restless heart finally overheated to overload, something stuck in her throat, and if she didn’t say it, she could hardly breathe.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have—”

Out of a vengeful or self-abandoning mindset, she did something she wouldn’t normally do.

If that beginning hadn’t happened, things wouldn’t be like this now.

She, Ji Shiyi, and Meng Zhiyu, the relationships between them, no matter who with whom, might not have become this awkward and embarrassing.

But Shu Yue couldn’t say these words.

Because the moment she said ‘shouldn’t,’ Ji Shiyi’s palm pressed over, covering her lips.

Shu Yue’s eyelashes trembled.

She was surprised to find Ji Shiyi’s palm was cold, cool to the touch, her fingertips even trembling slightly.

A thought jumped into her mind.

Was Ji Shiyi scared too?

She looked into Ji Shiyi’s eyes.

The river that once flowed calmly in them surged for a moment.

“Whatever it is, it’s fine.” Ji Shiyi said softly, “Shu Yue, whatever it is, but please don’t say shouldn’t.”

“The person Shiyi met was you, Shu Yue, and I’m very glad.”

“So please, don’t say shouldn’t.”

After Ji Shiyi finished, the palm lightly covering Shu Yue’s lips moved away.

Shu Yue reached out, instinctively grabbing back, holding Ji Shiyi’s wrist.

Ji Shiyi was surprised.

Shu Yue didn’t know why she did this; she just felt she had to say something more.

With intense shame, Shu Yue said: “I don’t regret those things, I just—”

“I feel I did wrong.”

She struggled to pull out the words hidden in her heart.

Ji Shiyi held her hand, feeling her warmth.

Everything was off balance.

“If I weren’t Meng Zhiyu’s aunt, would you still feel this way?”

Shu Yue couldn’t understand how this could be ‘if.’

Ji Shiyi was Meng Zhiyu’s aunt.

That was an unchangeable fact.

“Shu Yue, you care so much about this…” Ji Shiyi’s tone paused, “Is it because of me, or because of Meng Zhiyu?”

Ji Shiyi’s question was like a sharp knife, slicing open Shu Yue’s tangle.

Shu Yue froze.

Then she realized her concern wasn’t about Meng Zhiyu or Ji Shiyi. She just couldn’t accept being in this situation. Immorality, shame, embarrassment, like a mess. A terrible mess.

This version of her didn’t deserve to approach Ji Shiyi, let alone cross boundaries by falling for her.

If she got closer, what would others say?

She didn’t want to be a stain on Ji Shiyi’s life.

Because of indulging her desires, she’d leave a gray mark on Ji Shiyi’s brilliant life.

Shu Yue stayed silent, retracting her hand.

Ji Shiyi looked down, let go of her, seemed to smile, but the smile held little joy: “Alright, I understand.”

She turned, picking up the book from the car door storage.

“The book I borrowed last time, Shu Yue, I’m returning it.”

The black cross on ‘The Narrow Gate’’s cover caught Shu Yue’s eye. She took it, her fingertips resting on the edge of the cover, the sharp paper pressing into her skin, waking her nerves.

“Go rest.” Ji Shiyi said.

Shu Yue gripped the book tightly, nodded: “Miss Ji, you too.”

“Hmm.” Ji Shiyi nodded.

Shu Yue got out of the car. She watched Ji Shiyi’s car drive away, the lights disappearing, before retracting her gaze.

Entering the house, Shiyi greeted her.

Shu Yue put down the book, crouched, and looked at the kitten.

After a deep sigh, she hugged the cat, lowered her head, and nuzzled its head.

“What do I do, Shiyi.” Shu Yue poked the cat’s paw pad, “I think I messed things up again.”

Shiyi’s eyes were innocent, head tilted: “Meow?”

Shu Yue was amused by its cute reaction, showing her first and last relaxed smile of the day.

Letting Shiyi lick her face, Shu Yue zoned out, wondering where her relationship with Ji Shiyi would go after today.

Ji Shiyi didn’t mention taking Shiyi away, so did that mean, at least in this, they could stay as before?

Using Shiyi’s foster status was their only remaining connection.

She wouldn’t, like before, let her heart unconsciously draw closer to Ji Shiyi.

Shu Yue held Shiyi, lying on the sofa, zoning out.

After lying quietly with the kitten for a while, she got up, picked up the book casually placed on the table, and prepared to put it in the cabinet. Flipping it casually, a small bookmark was tucked between the pages.

On one side of the bookmark was a quote from the text.

“Lord, the path you guide us on is a narrow path—narrow enough that two cannot walk side by side.”

It must be Ji Shiyi’s forgotten bookmark.

She picked it up, hesitating whether to tell Ji Shiyi she forgot it, when her peripheral vision caught text on the back.

Ji Shiyi’s handwriting was crisp and neat.

“Then open another door, widen a path.”

Shu Yue stared at the words, pondering their meaning, when the door was knocked on, persistently.

Thinking Ji Shiyi returned for the bookmark, she grabbed it and opened the door.

Outside, Meng Zhiyu stood in the night.

Shiyi darted from the sofa, staring at this sudden visitor, ears perked warily, tail raised, pupils alert.

“Is this the cat you’re raising?” Meng Zhiyu asked.

She tried to crouch and pet Shiyi, but Shiyi growled lowly without hesitation, startling Meng Zhiyu, who quickly pulled back her hand.

Shu Yue hurriedly picked up the cat, rubbed its head, and coaxed softly: “Don’t be scared, don’t be scared.”

Meng Zhiyu couldn’t believe it: “Shu Yue, are you crazy? It scared me, and you’re comforting it?”

Shiyi nestled in Shu Yue’s arms, lying on its back, limbs hugging its tail, looking pitiful. But Meng Zhiyu felt the cat’s occasional glances held a hint of provocation.

She was furious.

Shu Yue saw she was about to lose her temper, held Shiyi tighter, and frowned: “It’s so late, what’s up?”

Meng Zhiyu had planned to see Shu Yue, talk things out, and ask what was going on between her and Ji Shiyi, what happened between them.

But now, Shu Yue’s care for the cat far exceeded her care for her.

This made Meng Zhiyu feel humiliated, and asking those questions would make her feel even more so.

Meng Zhiyu huffed, pulled out a gift bag hidden behind her back.

“For you.” She said, “Not specially bought. Didn’t I accidentally break your glasses before? So… I’m replacing them, and it’s your birthday gift too.”

Shu Yue didn’t take it.

She hesitated, then said what was on her mind.

“Meng Zhiyu, did you make another bet with someone?”

Meng Zhiyu froze: “What?”

Shu Yue pinched Shiyi’s paw, her gaze fixed on her face, unwavering, and said calmly: “You look familiar, like when we first met in high school. So, I’m wondering if someone bet with you again.”

As her words landed, Meng Zhiyu stiffened, her expression subtly froze for a moment.

She opened her mouth, stuttering for the first time, feeling less confident in front of Shu Yue: “You… you know?”