Chapter 31: Heartache

That person had once stood before her too, holding a letter—as if the letter tore her heart out bloody and raw, laid bare without reserve.
That person had been as green as the one before her now; even the words were the same. But the girl in memory—eyes hotter than Lin Jun’s, words more direct and moving, heart so naked before her—that heart so scalding it shook her, too hot to hold, instinct only to shrink away…
Images overlapped—like another lifetime.
Jiang Ya stared at Lin Jun, speechless.
Light from the window on her lenses—reflection like mist over her brows; no one could know what emotion rippled in her eyes now.
Lin Jun dazed, meeting Jiang Ya’s gaze a long while. Usually teacher-friend with Jiang Ya—never seen her look like this—deep, strange.
“Teacher… don’t be angry…” Lin Jun frightened, face down low, ashamed. “I know I’m wrong… I shouldn’t think this way… I’m not normal… I’m scared others will know…”
Speaking, Lin Jun choked, stopped—then like a dam breaking, could not hold back pouring her heart out.
“I really don’t want this but I can’t control myself… I don’t know how to fix this thought… honestly being friends with her was already enough—I never thought of going further, any other relationship…”
“Anyway Teacher, I’ll slowly change, focus on studies… please… don’t tell my parents? They couldn’t accept it…”
Lin Jun sobbed, more agitated, drifting—later cries and words mixed, unreadable.
Jiang Ya’s knit brow never eased. Mind tangled too—but seeing Lin Jun cry until breath came in gasps, she sighed, quick to the office, brought back tissues.
Handed them over. “Enough—wipe. Don’t get so worked up. Breathe deep. Relax slowly.”
Lin Jun adjusted breathing until calm, then looked up at Jiang Ya.
Jiang Ya saw swollen red eyes—touched, sighed again, hand on her back, light pat.
Soft voice: “Feeling better?”
Lin Jun nodded—inhale still made her body twitch twice.
Jiang Ya slowly smiled, gentle eyes, withdrew her hand. “Listen Teacher. First—rest assured, this is your privacy. Teacher will absolutely not mention it to your parents.”
“Second.” Jiang Ya paused, gaze soft on her. “Right now there is only one thing you need to correct.”
“Shift your focus to yourself. Don’t let other things affect you—and thus your studies.”
“As for the rest—you don’t need to change.”
Not what she expected—Lin Jun blinked through tears, dazed.
Looked at Jiang Ya a moment, lips moved, head down, voice tiny as a mosquito. “But… I like girls… my family says homosexuals aren’t normal…”
“How could they.” Jiang Ya held her gaze, serious. “The world is diverse—heterosexual and homosexual exist—majority and minority, not normal versus abnormal.”
“Everyone’s orientation is innate. You need not feel shame—or change anything.”
“Like everyone has subjects they love or hate—some love English, some hate it. You only need to accept—not change your preference.”
Jiang Ya taught warmly. Lin Jun’s eyes widened—simple, stunned.
Jiang Ya continued: “Also Teacher hopes you understand—first love at your age is normal. But you’ve experienced little; personality and thoughts not mature—you can easily mistake fleeting feeling for something wrong.”
“So Teacher believes—when you’re older, more mature, you’ll be more outstanding than now—and better able to attract someone you like, right?”
Hearing the second half Lin Jun blanked—then shifted, shy at brow.
But soon lifted her face, deep breath, looked straight at Jiang Ya, nodded solemnly, shy smile pressed out.
Seeing that Jiang Ya curved her lips too—inwardly exhaled in relief.
……
Finishing with Lin Jun was past six in the evening.
No evening duty tonight—Jiang Ya packed at the office and headed for the apartment.
No. 1 High’s campus was wide—from the teaching building through the central plaza to the gate.
Passing the plaza she ran into several students—they greeted her; she smiled back all the way.
Past the plaza—the green field on the right. Dusk, sky hazy, last light on the track, students walking or running—youthful vigor.
Youth was like that.
Jiang Ya’s steps slowed, stopped at the field’s edge, eyes on the playground. Maybe sentiment, maybe old memory—stood there a long while.
Her gaze skimmed students on the field—some laughing loud and bold, some chatting in the pavilion, some running hot on the track, some dreaming on the grass.
Every pair of students—faces strangers. In Jiang Ya’s eyes they were familiar.
From every pair of backs she seemed to see her past.
Her past with Qi Yu.
The book called youth had long closed—but memory turned pages; scenes and details thought forgotten yet engraved flashed like reassembled fragments.
Most of all—that night Qi Yu tore the letter, lonely back walking away.
Last image—shredded paper on the ground, too bright to look at without stabbing pain—as if torn was not only the letter but her proudest reason and her softest fatal heart.
That night—everything shattered.
Thoughts heavy, mind elsewhere. At a corner crossing she looked up at cars flashing past—only then realized how far she had walked.
Deep sigh.
How many sighs today. If worry could leave as easily as breath—how good.
A few hundred meters to the apartment. Jiang Ya crossed the intersection, familiar road, figure among pedestrians, eyes down, expression flat.
Passing a bus stop—peripheral glance at a figure on the bench—very familiar.
She turned, hesitant, slowly stopped.
Only that figure sitting back to her at the sign—hair past shoulders, head down, hair partly hiding her profile.
Face unseen—yet familiarity surged in Jiang Ya’s chest. She stood staring, pupils trembling, parted lips as if words stuck.
Until the person stood—Jiang Ya’s heart pulled by the motion. But when she turned toward a trash bin nearby—Jiang Ya wrong again.
Misidentified.
Jiang Ya lowered her eyes, relieved inside, gripped her phone, quick steps away.
The bus stop a shrinking dot—she slowed, thoughtful, took out her phone.
Opened chat with Qi Yu, typed in the input box:
*Just off work—saw someone who looked a bit like you*
Deleted—changed to:
*Just off work—saw someone very like you, almost said hi—not her*
Stared at the line seconds—still not satisfied—deleted again.
A ordinary message—several versions—none sent.
Stood agonizing minutes—gave up. Scrolled up short chat history—eyes dim, only screen’s fine light reflected.
Finally closed phone, pocketed it. Walked on as if nothing—one soft sigh melting into boundless night with her figure.
……
Days before the café’s official opening Qi Yu and Tang Xuejun posted opening ads on Moments and the shop’s social accounts.
Qi Yu chose day-coffee night-bar. Opening week—reputation not profit—all drinks twenty percent off, students thirty.
With discounts actual traffic lower than expected—especially mornings, students rushing to class—mostly acquaintances, few new faces.
Thanks to Li Tong—afternoon better. Li Tong drove traffic with her media, brought a crowd of friends—natural draw. Around four first floor full.
Evening after school Qi Xuan led classmates—“must support big sis’s business”—Qi Yu and Tang Xuejun chased them off to dinner.
Night—afternoon crowd thinned—few left inside.
Idle—Qi Yu, Tang Xuejun, Li Tong on stools at the register chatting.
Tang and Li Tong both easy—hit it off first meeting—by afternoon discussing life.
Qi Yu beside them—Tang telling Li Tong breakup story, Li Tong absorbed—Qi Yu deaf to it, focused on accounts.
When they finished Tang saw Qi Yu still busy. “Qi Yu, stop calculating—you’ve worked all day, rest.”
“First day—we’re building reputation a month, profit in half a year—don’t stress money.”
Qi Yu stopped, looked up. “Not stressed—bored, just fiddling.”
Tang Xuejun: “Hah—random fiddling, I know you.”
Li Tong: “Yeah—bad economy—patience opening a shop. Half year without loss is step one.”
“Tomorrow I’ll call another wave of friends. Plenty who said busy today.”
Qi Yu laughed helplessly. “No need—first day, showing up is enough.”
“Otherwise feels like paid extras.”
“Extras how—more people, livelier.”
Li Tong stretched long legs, toe on floor, spun the stool, scanned the shop.
Past eight now—besides them three, two tables. Lucky the place wasn’t huge or it’d look dead.
Li Tong turned back, muttering to herself. “Actually pretty good—first day… lots came—even Xuan brought classmates—repeat customers sure…”
Then something—finger on phone paused—looked at Qi Yu.
“Hey—where’s Jiang Ya? Didn’t see her today?”
Qi Yu blanked, expression stiff. Tang Xuejun’s look at her—meaningful.
“She…” A long while—eyes down, muffled. “Homeroom teacher—busy at school. Normal she didn’t come.”
Qi Yu curved lips at Li Tong—Li Tong nodded, no more ask, turned to Tang on another topic.
Qi Yu’s gaze on them a moment—then down—numbers on screen calculated—but eyes blurred unfocused.
Nearly a week no contact with Jiang Ya.
When they chatted Jiang Ya said she would definitely come opening day to support…
Not coming was normal.
Opening news—she private-messaged many—never Jiang Ya.
Maybe really busy, maybe forgot, maybe…
Whatever reason—it did not matter.
……
Past ten at night Tang and Li Tong gone—no customers.
Over an hour till close—Qi Yu alone cleaning.
Busy all day—back sore. Wiping tables halfway she straightened sudden, hammered aching waist.
Just thinking she was not young and tough anymore—turned—glass door pushed open.
“Hello.” Guest—automatic service smile.
Seeing who—frozen—smile never fully rose.
“Sorry… am I… too late?” The familiar voice—Qi Yu’s heart jolted.
Jiang Ya at the door, turned sideways, quietly facing her.