Chapter 12: Testing the Waters

A struggle inside.
Right hand came out of the pocket—slow, clumsy up the collar—fingers on the zipper top.
Head down thinking, rubbing without thinking.
Noticed Jiang Ya looking—hand jerked back like shocked, cool fingertips curling in the pocket.
“Car here?”
“Oh…” Qi Yu picked up phone. “Almost. Can’t drive in—should be up front…”
While speaking she looked toward the road. “I see it! There—the white one—you see?”
“Plate ends 8671.”
Jiang Ya followed her finger, nodded. “Convenience store door—that one?”
“Yeah. Go on.”
“Okay… I’m off.”
“Mm.”
Qi Yu stood watching. Jiang Ya took two steps—stopped.
Turned back. Qi Yu clearly surprised.
“What?”
“Mm…” Jiang Ya’s eyes flickered, thought a few seconds. “Right—that… today…”
She looked at Qi Yu. Words stopped mid-way.
First time Qi Yu saw Jiang Ya stutter.
Silence replaced talk. They faced each other at the door—both wanting to say something, neither knowing what.
Qi Yu read something in her eyes. “If you’re thanking me—don’t. Not strangers. No need to be so polite.”
“Go. Driver’s waiting.”
Qi Yu arched a brow, voice gentler.
Jiang Ya smiled back, nodded. “Tell me the fare later too—I’ll transfer everything together when back.”
Qi Yu paused—speechless laugh.
A joke she had made—still remembered.
No more said. Goodbye. Jiang Ya’s figure receding.
Wind tossed long hair, ends flying—Jiang Ya probably arms crossed, hunched, no hand to fix it.
Qi Yu watched, eyes narrowed.
Small figure through crowd, through buildings, white car door pulled open… Qi Yu finally looked away.
Silent long sigh inside. Turned, quick down the stairs.
.
All the way Jiang Ya urged the driver.
No phone when she left—hours no reply. In Jiang Sheng and Zhou Lin’s eyes that was lost contact.
Last similar time—Jiang Sheng searched till he fell ill. Since then Jiang Ya never dared stay “unreachable.”
Daily messages—reply within ten minutes tops. If busy she told Zhou Lin first—never vanish silent like today.
Weekday—parents rarely disturbed her. But today was Sunday—the day after work she must go home. Rule since she started teaching.
By now she would be home. Still in the ride-share.
She could imagine how many missed calls on her phone.
Restless in the car. Off the car—body not recovered—rushed into a nearly full elevator.
Sure enough—apartment—phone on—messages and missed calls about to explode.
Dazed—Zhou Lin called.
Jiang Ya answered at once.
“Mom…”
Half a beat silence—then Zhou Lin’s angry question: “Jiang Ya, what were you busy with? Texts, calls—you answered none?”
“You made Mom and Dad very worried, know that?”
Jiang Ya on the sofa, tired hand on brow.
Under four hours—severe period pain, ambulance, hospital, rush back. Exhausted—barely wanted to speak—first thing on the line was blame.
Glasses off, eyes closed on sofa, heavy sigh, open eyes extreme weariness. “Mom, sorry. No time to tell you.”
“What? You sound off. Sick?”
“…Not really. Morning tutoring students—period pain and a bit low blood sugar… went to hospital.”
“Left in a hurry—forgot phone… sorry Mom, made you and Dad worry.”
“Oh…” Zhou Lin softened. “How are you now? Better?”
“Mm, better. But… still tired so…” Jiang Ya paused, deep breath. “Mom… today can I not come?”
Low soft voice—half pleading.
Zhou Lin, as always, did not hear it.
“You’re tired? Not better already?”
“If fever… sick—rest fine. Just don’t feel like moving? Mom’s a woman, Mom knows.”
“But tonight Dad said he’d cook—hasn’t in so long—shame if you don’t come. Mom hasn’t seen you a week—miss you… if not too tired, come? Okay? Dad and I waiting.”
“Okay?”
Care through the phone into Jiang Ya’s ear. Silence—no immediate answer. Care was real. Refusal not allowed was real too.
Head back on sofa. Weariness grew—like the gray sky outside, thicker.
“Jiang Ya?”
She did not know how many sighs. Empty gaze on the wall clock—tick tick of the second hand—sudden strong wish: twenty-six years old—ten thousand reasons to refuse properly.
Words circled—when they came out the fire met cold water, all ash.
“Okay. I know. I’ll come… leaving now.” Dry eyes turned to the window—rain seeming to fall again—said heavy.
.
Jiang Ya’s family home at Licheng Plaza—Nanliu’s busiest strip, seaside area, locals and tourists alike.
Not a holiday but roads still somewhat jammed. Ride-share driver new, did not know the area—went a loop extra.
Near evening—door open—sizzle from kitchen—Zhou Lin out from the room to meet her.
“Why so late? Traffic bad?”
“A bit… driver didn’t know the way, extra detour.”
“Oh… you took a car? Why not drive?”
“……” Jiang Ya looked at Zhou Lin’s kind face, bent to shoes from the cabinet. “Tired. Didn’t want to drive.”
“I see.”
Shoes on—Zhou Lin took her hand to the sofa, poured hot water on the table. “Drink, warm up. Cold these days, getting colder outside.”
“Right—what happened today? Hospital—serious?”
Jiang Ya took the glass, small sip, nodded. “Mm. Almost never like this before. Low blood sugar too. Very bad—went to hospital.”
“Oh, how…” Zhou Lin’s gentle eyes on her, smiled. “Forgot phone at hospital? Such a big thing—didn’t tell us.”
Jiang Ya paused drinking, hesitated, still said: “I… was too bad. Called ambulance directly. Left in a hurry—forgot…”
Zhou Lin’s face changed—shock at once. “What?”
Hand on Jiang Ya’s thin back, looked her over, heartache. “That serious? Oh… results? All okay?”
“Mom, don’t worry. Doctor said normal… rest and supplements usually.”
“Good good…” Zhou Lin turned, sighed, stroked Jiang Ya’s back gently.
Suddenly looked back. “You went alone?”
Jiang Ya shook her head. “No. A… friend called the ambulance. Stayed with me.”
Zhou Lin nodded, about to speak—Jiang Sheng came from kitchen with dishes, interrupted.
Apron still on. Plates set, called: “What’re you chatting? Stop—food’s ready. Come eat.”
“Zhou Lin, help carry—I’m still cleaning kitchen.”
“Coming.”
Zhou Lin went. Jiang Ya did not sit idle—took three sets of bowls and chopsticks from kitchen, neat on the table.
Dinner—no talk at the table. Each ate. In Jiang Sheng’s words—that was table etiquette too.
In the Jiang home everything had ritual and rule. Both Jiang Sheng and Zhou Lin taught all their lives—*li*, propriety, mattered most.
No rules, no order.
So near the end of the meal Zhou Lin found a opening: “Oh Jiang Ya, Mom meant to ask—which friend went with you to hospital?”
Jiang Ya spooning soup, silent a moment. “Just a high school classmate. You might not know her.”
Zhou Lin: “Boy or girl?”
Jiang Ya: “…Girl.”
“Is it… the girl you often went to the library with in high school?” Jiang Sheng spoke suddenly, voice deep.
Seeing Jiang Ya’s default silence he went on: “Your mother met her. How not know?”
“Every close friend you’ve had—we know them.”
Jiang Ya eyes down, small sips of soup, no more words.
Zhou Lin wiped mouth with folded napkin, took the thread. “Yes. Your friends—we understand.”
“Dad reminded me—is it that tall slim pretty girl?”
Jiang Ya: “Mm.”
Zhou Lin: “Rare—still in touch after so long… willing to go to hospital with you. Worth keeping.”
Jiang Ya nodded. Did not continue.
Thought the topic would end—pause—Zhou Lin again: “About your age?”
“Does she have a partner?”
Turn too fast—Jiang Ya blank a moment looking at Zhou Lin.
A beat later: “Probably… not.”
“Oh… maybe hasn’t met someone she likes.” Zhou Lin smiled warm, tone shifted, eyes on Jiang Ya’s lowered head. “What about you?”
“Me?” Jiang Ya lifted face at once—expression dazed. “What about me?”
Zhou Lin cheerful: “What else?”
“Mom asks—you’re not young anymore—do you have someone you like?”
Hearing that Jiang Ya’s eyes went more blank—staring at Zhou Lin and Jiang Sheng—forgot to answer.