Heart Flutter

Chapter 78

“Yuyin, Aunt Chen tells me you didn’t come home last night—what was that about?”

The speaker, a well-heeled woman in her forties, was wrapped in a mink-trimmed designer coat. Years of expensive cosmetic work had all but erased the lines from her face; a gold ring flashed on her hand, and a strand of pearls gleamed at her throat. Every gesture radiated the poise of high society.

Shen Yuyin speared a slice of luncheon meat from the housemaid’s tray and took a leisurely bite, glancing—almost idly—at the woman. “You didn’t come home either,” she said. “How do you have the nerve to lecture me?”

The woman bristled. “How can you speak to your mother that way? I was out on business. You know the state your father’s company is in—there is a mountain of work to handle.”

Yuyin gave a short laugh, wiped her fingers, and rose. “Don’t think I haven’t heard about the man you’re seeing.”

With that she turned toward the stairs.

“Where do you think you’re going?” her mother barked. The girl had grown more defiant by the day.

“Up to my room to sleep. Is that a crime?” Yuyin shot back from the landing, then disappeared upstairs without another word.

In her bedroom, Yuyin tossed her handbag aside, padded barefoot across the carpet, shed her clothes, and slipped into the bathroom. She filled the tub to the brim, queued up music on her phone, and sank into the hot water.

As she lathered foam over her skin, her thoughts churned. A one-night stand was nothing new to her; women in her past had always been about desire, never emotion. Yet the sight of last night’s girl weeping under her gaze kept tugging at her chest with a strange, unfamiliar pang—something like guilt, a feeling she loathed.

The music on her phone suddenly cut to her ringtone. Irritated, she wiped her hands on a towel and answered.

“What?”

“Yuyin, we’re hitting Neo-City Bar tonight. You in?”

“Not tonight,” she said. “I’m beat. Rain check.”

“Suit yourself. Rest up—we’ll go another time.”

She set the phone back on the rack, slid her arms beneath the water, and closed her eyes. Only her face remained above the surface as the heat eased the ache from last night’s excess.

Meanwhile the shared apartment was almost empty; only Zhao Xiaoyun was home. Everyone else had gone to work. She carried her change of clothes and toiletries into the bathroom and locked the door.

Undressed, she caught her reflection: dark red marks mottled her neck, chest, even down to her navel—strawberry kisses. Mortified, she scrubbed hard under the shower, but the bruises refused to fade. If her coworkers saw them tomorrow, gossip would fly. No one could find out she had slept with a woman.

“Yan-yan, you’re up early.”

Ji Yuqing stepped from her room in a knee-length cardigan over a white silk slip. Her elegant collarbones peeked through the fabric.

Tang Yan was already in the open kitchen, fixing breakfast. She’d actually been awake since a phone call at dawn. “Couldn’t fall back asleep,” she said.

“Did you call your friend Xiaoyun? Is she all right?” Ji Yuqing filled a glass at the dispenser.

“I did. Last night… nothing serious,” Tang Yan replied.

Yuqing nodded, blowing on the hot water. “Good.”

Tang Yan flipped the egg pancake in the skillet, scattered a handful of scallions, and was about to plate it when Yuqing spoke again. “Today… you know what’s happening, right?”

Tang Yan froze. Yesterday, in the car, Aunt Ji had told her. She lowered her eyes and nodded. “I know. When will she arrive?”

Yuqing checked her watch. “Eight a.m. flight—she should land around noon.”

“I see… Breakfast is ready.”

Yuqing took the platter, tweaked Tang Yan’s nose, and winked. “Our Yan-yan is so talented. Whoever marries you will be blessed.”

Tang Yan watched her walk away, thinking, I don’t need anyone to marry me—if only I could marry you.

Breakfast was egg pancake and fried ham—half each. Because they were up early, Tang Yan had even made fresh soy milk. She knew Aunt Ji only drank it unsweetened, so she left out the sugar for both of them. Their living habits matched so well; sharing a life together would be effortless.

Lost in that pleasant daydream, Tang Yan sipped her soy milk in silence.

“Any idea where you’ll place in the year-end exams?” Yuqing asked suddenly.

The question sounded just like a head teacher’s. Tang Yan swallowed, set down the cup, and answered carefully, “Probably top five in the grade.”

She had ranked sixth at midterms and had done better this time.

Yuqing nodded, satisfied. “Then the scholarship is within reach.” She looked up and smiled.

The smile hit Tang Yan like a stone skipping across water—sweet, gentle, breathtaking. “That’s my goal,” she said, full of confidence.

“Excellent. I’m rooting for you.”

Tang Yan thought she might melt. “When the results come out, I’ll treat you to a celebration,” Yuqing added.

Tang Yan nodded vigorously and dug into her food.

After breakfast Tang Yan was washing dishes while Aunt Ji, in slippers, watered the balcony plants. Her long black hair cascaded to her waist, and her figure was graceful from every angle. It struck Tang Yan that today was Wednesday—why wasn’t Aunt Ji at work?

“Aunt Ji?” she called.

“Yes?” Yuqing answered brightly without turning.

“Are you… not going to the office today?”

Yuqing stiffened, then turned, masking her unease. “Your mother is coming to Huadu. I asked for a few days off.”

“Oh… I see.” Tang Yan went back to the dishes.

Departure time for the airport drew near.

Sitting on her bed, Tang Yan scrolled through a few old photos—scans of film prints from another era, edges yellowed. They were the last pictures she had of her mother, and in them she was the infant in her young mother’s arms.

“Yan-yan, are you ready? We should leave soon.”

“Coming!”

She shut off the phone, chose an outfit, then abruptly shoved it back into the closet. No need to dress up, she decided.

Aunt Ji was already immaculate—make-up flawless, hair styled. By comparison, Tang Yan had not even bothered with foundation.

“Sure you don’t want to spruce up for your mom?” Yuqing checked.

“No. I’ll meet her like this. It’s fine,” Tang Yan said coolly.

“Very well.” Yuqing smiled, slipped her arm through Tang Yan’s, and they headed out.

On the airport expressway, scenery blurred past the window while childhood memories flashed through Tang Yan’s mind: her mother’s rare, hurried visits; the desperate chases down the village road as the car drove away without a backward glance.

Miss Mom?

No. After she grew older, she never spoke those words again.

“Are you nervous?” Yuqing asked gently.

“I don’t know,” Tang Yan murmured, eyes lowered.

They reached the airport just as the arrival hall announced her mother’s flight. Tang Yan’s heart began to race.

As passengers streamed out, unease wrapped around her like wire.

“There she is!” Aunt Ji whispered, excited.

Tang Yan’s head snapped up. A familiar yet distant woman approached—carrying a boy of about two.

Complicated feelings knotted Tang Yan’s chest.

Aunt Ji waved. Tang Huiyi quickened her pace, setting the child down to embrace Yuqing.

“Long time no see, senior.”

“Too long.”

They broke apart, Huiyi studying Yuqing. “You’re still so young and beautiful—exactly the same! I’m the one who’s aged.”

“Hardly,” Yuqing demurred. “You look wonderful.”

The little boy peeked shyly at Tang Yan. Mother urged, “Xuan-xuan, say hello to your sister.”

He hid behind Huiyi, clutching her clothes.

“Sorry—he’s shy. Yan-yan, this is your brother, Wang Yixuan.”

“Oh…” Tang Yan could only manage a neutral reply.

Yuqing took the luggage, and the small party moved on. Huiyi looked around the bustling terminal. “I haven’t been to Huadu in years—it’s changed so much.”

“You wouldn’t believe how lively it is now,” Yuqing said.

“Then I must show Xuan-xuan around.” Huiyi’s offhand remark shattered something in Tang Yan. So her mother had come mainly for a holiday with her son, not to see her.

She’d never felt pain quite like it.

“Mom, what’s that?” Yixuan dashed ahead. Huiyi hurried after him, explaining the airport fixtures with patient enthusiasm.

Only Yuqing noticed Tang Yan lagging. She paused, turned back, and wordlessly slipped her warm, soft hand into Tang Yan’s.

In that silent moment, the comfort meant more than any words.