Heart Flutter

Chapter 99

It was another Saturday, two weeks later. Tang Yan had overslept, still groggy from staying up too late the night before doing homework. Her computer on the desk had gone into sleep mode—she hadn’t even had time to shut it down. She rubbed her eyes, slipped on her shoes, and got out of bed. After washing up, she stepped into the living room, only to find the entire house eerily quiet. Aunt Ji’s bedroom door was tightly shut, just like it had been last night when she came out for a drink of water.

Tang Yan didn’t think much of it. She changed into fresh clothes and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. Lately, she’d been learning how to make omurice—golden fried eggs wrapped around colorful fried rice, topped with bright red ketchup. She even made fresh juice. Everything was set and ready.

She walked up to Aunt Ji’s door, took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and gently knocked.

Knock, knock, knock.

No response.

She lowered her voice and called, “Aunt Ji? Breakfast is ready.”

Knock, knock, knock.

Still no sound. Aside from the noise she made herself, the house remained completely still. Maybe she was still asleep? But that didn’t seem right—Tang Yan had already woken up pretty late.

Since Aunt Ji hadn’t come out, Tang Yan didn’t dare eat alone. So she sat in the living room and waited… and waited. Eventually, out of boredom and hunger, she started watching cartoons, one hand pressing against her grumbling stomach.

Minutes ticked by. When she finally glanced at her phone, it was already 11 a.m. That wasn’t normal. She started to feel uneasy—what if something had happened, like before? What if Aunt Ji had fallen in her room and couldn’t call for help?

That thought gave her a sudden burst of courage. She reached for the bedroom door handle and turned it.

The room was empty.

The bed was a mess, the blanket tossed into a pile. The wardrobe looked like it had been rummaged through. Tang Yan checked the bathroom—still no one. It was like Aunt Ji had vanished into thin air.

Or—had someone broken in and kidnapped her? But that made no sense. Tang Yan had been in a deep sleep; if a thief had broken in, they wouldn’t have only touched one room.

The more she thought about it, the more worried she became. She pulled out her phone and called Aunt Ji.

A mechanical voice answered: “The number you have dialed is currently switched off.”

Now she really panicked.

She had never dealt with something like this before. Frantic, she grabbed her phone and rushed out, asking everyone she passed if they had seen Aunt Ji. No one had. But the security guard at the gate was kind and offered to check the surveillance footage.

There was no sign of a break-in or kidnapping. Everything she’d feared was just her imagination.

Eventually, they found footage from around 2 a.m. A car had pulled out of the building’s lot. Tang Yan recognized the license plate—it was familiar. They rewound the footage and confirmed: it was Aunt Ji. She’d left in a rush, got into her car, and drove off. No note, no call, not even a text.

Seeing how anxious Tang Yan was, the guard tried to reassure her. “Don’t worry too much, miss. Maybe she had something urgent to take care of. If you still can’t reach her after 24 hours, consider calling the police.”

Tang Yan clenched the hem of her shirt. Forget 24 hours—even one hour of no contact felt unbearable. She thanked the guard and left the office feeling completely lost.

Over the next hour, she called everyone she could think of—Peiwen, Aunt Mia—but none of them knew anything. None of them could get in touch with Aunt Ji either. Her phone remained off.

Since that morning, Tang Yan had only drunk a few sips of water. She hadn’t eaten a thing.

The night before, Ji Yuqing had been getting ready for bed when she suddenly received a message from Shen Yuyin. It came from an unfamiliar number. The text was hurried, the tone urgent:

[I don’t have time to explain. I borrowed our housekeeper’s phone. My father passed away two days ago. My mother has grounded me and taken all my devices. The memorial is at XXX. If you still want to see him one last time, you’d better come now.]

The moment Ji Yuqing read it, her mind blanked. She jumped out of bed and rummaged through her wardrobe, growing more flustered by the second. After what felt like forever, she found a formal black outfit and tied her hair back. No makeup. She drove off into the night.

The memorial was far away, in a remote location. No media, no outside attention. It took her hours to get there.

As she walked in, every head in the room turned toward her—some confused, some surprised, others puzzled. Only one woman looked outright furious.

Standing beside her mother, Shen Yuyin secretly smiled. She’d come after all. Her mother turned and shot her a glare, clearly realizing what she’d done.

Ji Yuqing strode in. At the center of the hall hung a large black-and-white photo of her father. The golden casket gleamed under the lights. The time of the memorial had been specially selected by a spiritual master. Not many people were present—some family, some business associates—all whispering among themselves.

“What are you doing here?” Shen Yuyin’s mother snapped.

“I came to pay my respects to my father,” Ji Yuqing replied, her face emotionless. She didn’t even glance at the woman as she passed. The casket was half-open. As she bent down to offer incense, she caught a glimpse of her father’s pale face inside. It sent a chill down her spine.

Just then, mocking words rang out behind her.

“She didn’t care when he was alive, and now she comes pretending to mourn. Everyone knows she’s just here for the inheritance.”

Ji Yuqing clenched her fists but didn’t respond. After bowing for both herself and her mother, the woman sneered again.

“Why so quiet now? Guilty, are you?”

Ji Yuqing turned and gave a cold smile. “I have nothing to be guilty about. I’ve done nothing shameful.” There was a deeper meaning in her tone.

The woman looked flustered. “What’s that supposed to mean? Say it clearly! With all these guests here today, let everyone judge—someone who left for over a decade, who didn’t even show up before her father died, what right does she have to be at this memorial?!”

She wasn’t just attacking Ji Yuqing—she was trying to rally everyone else to join in.

But Ji Yuqing stayed calm, her voice even and firm. “This isn’t the time or place for drama. If you want to argue with me, I’ll see you in court. You can tell the judge everything you just said.”

“You—!” The woman was momentarily speechless. She wanted to lash out, but couldn’t risk losing face. For the rest of the day—the burial, the final rites—she bit her tongue, forcing herself to maintain the image of a dignified, elegant wife of wealth.

After meeting up with Peiwen, they drove around to several places Aunt Ji frequented. They even asked some of her coworkers, but no one had any information. As night fell, Peiwen sighed and said, “Let me take you home for now. Maybe she’ll be back by then. She’s always been someone who acts with purpose—maybe something really urgent came up. Try not to worry too much.”

Tang Yan still wanted to keep searching, but she knew Peiwen had spent the whole afternoon with her and was exhausted. She nodded and agreed to go home.

As the streetlights flickered on and more headlights lit the roads, the city eased into nighttime.

After dropping her off, Peiwen reminded her, “Call me if anything happens. If she comes back tonight, let me know too—just so I don’t worry.”

“I will. Thanks so much for today, Peiwen.”

“Don’t mention it. Get inside.”

When Tang Yan entered the house and started taking off her shoes, she noticed something—one pair was missing. The slippers weren’t where they’d been.

“Aunt Ji? Are you back?” she called out.

She hurried to the bedroom—still empty. But something told her Aunt Ji had returned. Then she spotted the car keys on the nightstand.

That confirmed it. Excited, she ran outside and called out as she walked through the complex.

“Aunt Ji! Aunt Ji!” People looked at her strangely, but she didn’t care. Finally, she saw a familiar figure by the lake, sitting alone, her clothes fluttering in the evening breeze.

Tang Yan picked up speed, half-walking, half-running, more relieved than she’d ever been.

“Aunt Ji!” she called.

Ji Yuqing turned slowly. “Yan Yan?”

A bottle of whiskey sat beside her, half empty.

Tang Yan didn’t understand. Why was she drinking alone out here? Why didn’t she return her calls? Why had she vanished for a whole day? Her heart was filled with questions.

She sat beside her, trying to stay calm. “Aunt Ji, I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I’m fine. I just… had something to do,” Ji Yuqing said with a forced smile, trying to hide everything inside.

But Tang Yan could see right through her. Aunt Ji wasn’t someone who drank for no reason. She was never like this. Seeing her like this broke Tang Yan’s heart.

“Aunt Ji… did something happen? Please don’t keep it all bottled up. If something’s wrong, let me help carry it, even just a little…”

Maybe it was those words that hit the softest part of her. Ji Yuqing swept her hair back, trying to keep it together, but the strong front she’d worn all day finally cracked. The bitterness on her lips deepened.

“I don’t have a dad anymore,” she said, the pain raw in her voice.

She rarely cried in front of others—she was always so strong. But tonight, in front of Tang Yan, she let the mask fall away.

Tang Yan quietly leaned in and hugged her, gently patting her back. She didn’t say a word—just stayed by her side.

Everything would be okay. Eventually.