Heart Flutter

Chapter 18

Night had fallen, and the dormitory building was brightly lit, bustling with excitement.

In the girls’ dormitory, there was always endless gossip to share. That evening, the girls in Room 407 shifted their conversation toward Tang Yan.

Tang Yan had just washed her hair, leaving it half-dry and draped casually over one side of her head. She lay on her bed, writing in her diary, and happened to be recording something about Aunt Ji.

“This mangosteen tasted so good. Gosh, Tang Yan, your aunt was really nice to you!” said her roommate Lu Wan, who had just removed her makeup, washed her hair, and wrapped it in a dry towel. She peeled a mangosteen while wearing a deeply satisfied look on her face.

Another roommate, Han Shuang, turned around in her chair and looked up at Tang Yan, who lay on the diagonally opposite bunk. “Tang Yan, how old was your aunt again?”

Tang Yan paused her writing and answered uncertainly, “I think… about 35?”

“Thirty-five?” asked Xia Zihan, who was sitting at the desk across from them. She sounded astonished. “She looked more like 25; she really took great care of herself.”

“She was so pretty and dressed so fashionably. She must have been some wealthy lady. Her husband must be loaded,” Han Shuang guessed.

“Yeah, Tang Yan, which company did your uncle work for? You never told us,” Xia Zihan chimed in, equally curious.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all,” Tang Yan hurried to clarify, worried they might misunderstand Aunt Ji. She grew agitated and found herself momentarily unable to string her thoughts together. “Aunt Ji got where she was through her own efforts.”

“That can’t be true,” someone objected. “This was Huadu City, after all. A single apartment here was worth at least several million, plus that car of hers looked like it cost well over a million.”

“Aunt Ji wasn’t what you imagined. She was a very capable person, and she didn’t even have a husband,” Tang Yan insisted, growing flustered, her face turning red.

“No way. You mean she was 35 and still not married? Didn’t her family push her?” Her roommates found it hard to believe.

Tang Yan had no idea how to respond; she had never even met any of Aunt Ji’s relatives. “Anyway, Aunt Ji was nothing like what you think.”

Xia Zihan came over to her bed, pressed her hands on the safety rail, and flashed a mischievous smile. “We never said anything bad about your aunt. Why were you getting so worked up?”

“She was extremely kind and thoughtful, and she treated me very, very well,” Tang Yan emphasized again.

Her words triggered an outburst of laughter in the dorm.

“All right, all right, Tang Yan. We all knew your aunt treated you well.”

After a while, Xia Zihan tapped the rail and lowered her voice. “I have an uncle who just turned 40. He’s an executive at a Fortune Global 500 company and makes a six-figure salary each year. Want me to introduce him to your aunt? If they hit it off, we’d practically become family!”

“That would never happen,” Tang Yan denied it flatly, barely pausing to think. “Aunt Ji… she had no intention of getting married.”

“Ah… what a shame. A woman who worked hard her entire life, all alone without a partner—how lonely,” Xia Zihan said, pursing her lips as she stepped away from Tang Yan’s bed.

Tang Yan picked up her pen again, thinking that sometimes it really wasn’t necessary to find a man, and men weren’t always reliable anyway. After all, she herself had never even met her father; she had no clue what he looked like.

If Aunt Ji chose not to get married, Tang Yan actually understood and approved.

The next day, Tang Yan returned to her military training group. She trained under the scorching sun from morning till night. She ate three meals a day properly in the cafeteria, balancing meat and vegetables without snacking much. She still ate the fruit that Aunt Ji had bought daily, because it would spoil if left uneaten, which would be a waste of Aunt Ji’s kindness—and her money.

On Saturday, Ji Yuqing did not have work, but she still followed her usual routine of getting up early, making her bed, and tidying up the house. She drew the curtains to let in the morning sunlight, put on light makeup, and chose a casual outfit in a pale shade. Her hair, with a slight natural wave, hung loosely behind her head. She almost never dyed or permed it, so it was in excellent condition—black, glossy, and without split ends, flowing like dark ink.

When she was done, she grabbed her bag and left. On her way, she passed a supermarket and parked by the roadside. She went in to buy some fresh fruit, nutritional supplements for the elderly, and snacks that would be easy on delicate teeth.

She went there at least once a week. Her destination lay twenty kilometers away: a nursing home where she stayed every weekend. Ever since Tang Yan moved in with her, she switched her regular visits to Saturday.

Nothing had changed about the place. It was set against mountains and water, with seasonal flowers planted at the entrance, all kept spotlessly clean. The scenery was stunning, making it one of the finest nursing homes in Huadu, and it cost a considerable amount each month.

It sat nestled in a mountain forest, alive with birds and flowers in spring, and pleasantly cool in the summer, thanks to the shade of the trees. It was truly a haven with mild warmth in spring and cool breezes in summer.

After parking her car, Ji Yuqing hauled her bags of items and walked inside. There were plenty of elderly residents strolling around, chatting over tea, and generally enjoying themselves.

She planned to visit an older woman who lived in a three-bedroom suite on the second floor: her mother, He Mengyi.

That three-bedroom suite was the highest-level accommodation available there. Her mother needed two caregivers full-time, which was why there were two other bedrooms: one for them and one spare, which gave Ji Yuqing a place to stay overnight whenever she came.

Her mother, who was in her sixties, had been suffering from Alzheimer’s disease for more than three years. In the first year, her condition was not that severe, so Ji Yuqing tried juggling her job with caring for her mother. Eventually, it became too much. She felt helpless in the face of her mother’s frequent wandering, restless outbursts, and injuries. She had no choice but to bring her to a reputable nursing home.

From then on, whenever she had time each weekend, she visited to bring her mother things she enjoyed—healthy foods, supplements to help with her osteoporosis, and so on. The nursing home had a full medical staff with doctors and nurses, and their meals were balanced by a dietitian. Deep down, Ji Yuqing believed her mother was better off there than under her lone care at home.

She still felt guilty, even though she had done everything possible to give her mother the best.

All she could do was work hard—very hard. Since childhood, she had learned that a woman had to be financially independent to have any real say in her life. Only then could she afford her mother’s monthly expenses at the nursing home, which totaled tens of thousands.

“Miss Ji, you came by,” the nursing home’s deputy director greeted her in the hallway.

Ji Yuqing nodded. “Yes, I came to see her.”

“You really were the most devoted child we have here. Some families only visited once every few months,” the deputy director said.

“Older folks had limited time left. It was our duty as their children to do our best by them,” she replied.

“Go on ahead. Your mother has been doing fairly well lately.”

She nodded and waved goodbye before taking the elevator upstairs alone.

At the end of the corridor stood the right door. Ji Yuqing knocked, and a woman around her own age opened it with a smile. “You made it. You are early today. Auntie just took her medicine and went to sleep.”

Carrying her bags inside, Ji Yuqing asked as usual, “How has she been lately?”

“She has been doing fine—hardly any trouble at night. Sometimes she chats with an old gentleman downstairs.”

Relieved, Ji Yuqing smiled and said, “Thank you.” Then she asked, “Is Qin here?”

“She has the night shift today. She took her son to the city this morning and will be back tonight.”

The woman paused and added, “I will take Auntie’s clothes to the laundry room.” With that, she stepped out, giving Ji Yuqing and her mother some privacy.

The elderly woman slept quietly in the bed, her face peaceful. Ji Yuqing drew near, took a seat on a chair beside the bed, and gently tucked her mother’s stray hairs behind her ear. “Mom, I came to see you.”

She always thought her mother was a pitiful figure—she had trusted the wrong man, lived by the old rules of being a submissive, virtuous wife, and sacrificed so much. Once her youth had passed, it had meant nothing to anyone. After she finally broke free from that misery, she got sick before enjoying any peace.

“Someone else is living at our home now,” she went on softly, carefully holding her mother’s roughened hand as if she were chatting with her. “She was the daughter of a senior classmate of mine. I mentioned her a long time ago—the one who helped me through a very difficult time. I do not know what I would have done without her. Now it is my turn to repay that kindness, so I am taking care of her daughter.”

The old woman continued to sleep soundly, her breaths deep and steady.

After sitting there a while, Ji Yuqing stood up and headed into the living room, opening the western window that overlooked the mountains. The leaves were already turning yellow, and they covered the ground in piles.

She took out her phone and snapped a photo, posting it on her social media feed without any caption. Then she put away her phone and helped tidy up, washing some fruit to fill the fruit basket, and folding a few of her mother’s clothes.

She was about to head out. When Wei, the caregiver who had finished doing laundry, saw that she was leaving, she tried to persuade her to stay. “Auntie will wake up before lunch. Why not stay a bit longer?”

Shaking her head, purse in hand, Ji Yuqing explained, “I have something to do this afternoon. I have to pick up my friend’s child from school.”

“At least have lunch. Auntie has been remembering things more lately—maybe she will recognize you when she sees you,” Wei said encouragingly.

But that notion brought a pang to her heart. Her mother no longer recognized her at all.

Her nose stung, and she inhaled to steady herself. In a level tone, she said, “Another time, then. I am already so grateful for your help. Please keep taking good care of my mother.”

“It really is no trouble at all. You pay us well, and we are only doing our job.”

At lunchtime, Tang Yan was scrolling through her feed when she unexpectedly spotted a post from Aunt Ji. Tang Yan had checked Aunt Ji’s profile before; there had been no updates for months. She tapped open the photo, which showed autumn leaves and a desolate scene that conveyed a feeling of quiet sorrow.

Even though not a single word had been written, Tang Yan sensed what kind of mood Aunt Ji might have been in.

She wondered what Aunt Ji might have been doing at that very moment.