Chapter 9: Making Peace

“Really?”
Hearing Qi Xuan’s animated account, Qi Wenping was still half doubtful and asked Qi Yu again: “Yu Yu, you and that Teacher Jiang were classmates before?”
Qi Yu pulled out of her daze. The urge to refuse flashed and passed—she did not say much more. Pressed her lips, answered flatly:
“We were in the same class in high school.”
“Oh… same class…” Qi Wenping paused, thinking.
Seeing no immediate yes, Qi Xuan nagged at her ear again. Qi Wenping could not stand it, waved a hand. “Fine fine, I know, stop going on.”
“Then Yu Yu, tomorrow around noon pick her up. I’ll send you the address later. If you’re not free, tell me.”
“Mm… okay.” Qi Yu looked down, gaze drifting.
“Oh right.” Qi Wenping ate two bites, said to Qi Yu again: “How about I buy fruit tonight—you take some to Teacher Jiang when you pick Xuan up?”
“Huh?” Qi Yu froze.
Qi Wenping smiled. “Just… so she’ll look after Xuan more. You know Teacher Jiang anyway—perfect for you to bring it.”
“Aunt, teachers don’t take gifts now.”
“Then… you… say it’s from you… that won’t work either?”
“……”
Of course even less.
They had talked things through a few days ago—but cracks were not patched in a day. Gifts now… weird on every level.
Qi Yu: “Really no need… she won’t take them. I’ll mention it when we chat.”
Qi Wenping: “Good good good… don’t stress it. Just mention it casually when you talk.”
“Come eat—these two drumsticks left, one each for you and Xuan.” Qi Wenping happily served Qi Yu. “You eat more too. You look thinner lately. Any thinner and only bones left…”
Qi Xuan: “Mom, what kind of description is that.”
“Yeah, not that bad.” Qi Yu laughed lightly. Though she objected, she held out her bowl for food.
The three bickered back and forth—warm, easy. Qi Yu fit in as if they were the real family of three.
Qi Li watched. A trace of smile in her eyes.
She said nothing—quietly cleared dishes and bones from the table, still smiling as she watched them.
Finally she stood. The three still chatting homely matters while she carried dishes alone to the kitchen.
.
After lunch Qi Xuan went to the parcel station downstairs and brought back several packages for Qi Yu.
Back in the room she dumped them on the desk and plopped on the edge of Qi Yu’s bed.
Hands braced behind her, panting.
Qi Yu set down her phone. “You’re winded from fetching packages?”
Qi Xuan sniffed. “Look how heavy yours are! And not just one! You use me as labor every day.”
“Packages equal labor?”
“I’ve helped you how many times—why don’t you say? Always using your cousin as shield…” Qi Yu sat up. Seeing Qi Xuan take off her jacket, snapped: “Put it back on! You’ll catch cold in the wind again.”
Qi Xuan reluctantly slipped it on. “You exaggerate too… what shield…”
“Wasn’t that just now?”
“How was it?” Tired, Qi Xuan flopped back on the quilt, pinning Qi Yu’s legs. “I didn’t lie. You do know Teacher Jiang.”
Qi Yu: “Get up.”
Qi Xuan ignored her, let the pinned person struggle, went on: “You and Teacher Jiang were so close before—pick me up, see a friend. I wish I could see my middle school friends… haven’t met in ages.”
At that Qi Yu stopped moving.
After a pause: “And you know how I was with your homeroom teacher?”
“I do. I asked.”
“You asked?… What did you ask?”
“Just… ah…” Qi Xuan rose slowly, raked short hair, voice lazy. “I asked casually. Teacher Jiang said you were classmates.”
Qi Yu: “And then?”
Qi Xuan kicked off slippers, climbing the ladder. “That was it.”
“Oh, she also said…”
The top bunk shook. A light laugh from above: “You were biased in high school too—but opposite me. I’m science-biased, you were arts. Your science back then was about like my arts—barely passing. Teacher Jiang said she often tutored you in math.”
“See—you were biased in high school and you lecture me…”
Qi Xuan talked on, then lay down and noticed no response.
“Cousin?”
“What—sleep!”
“……” Sounded more and more like Aunt Wenping.
Qi Xuan complained inwardly, rolled over, buried in the quilt.
The room finally quiet—only soft breathing.
Top bunk asleep at once; bottom bunk still awake.
Nanliu had been cold lately. Sun outside but the room felt damp and chilly.
Qi Yu pulled her arm under the quilt, uncomfortable, turned on her side.
Eyes closed briefly—opened again.
For no reason Qi Xuan’s words pulled up things from years ago.
Strictly speaking—three years same class in high school, but first year they only knew each other’s names.
Real closeness came in second year. First real conversation—Jiang Ya explaining her test paper.
Second year arts/science split. Few stayed in arts in their old class. Only she and Jiang Ya landed together.
Maybe for that reason the teacher seated them together at the start of year two.
First week as desk mates stuck deep—Qi Yu dared not talk much, only greetings.
She forgot which day. Teacher reviewing math. Multiple choice—raise hand if you need explanation.
One question—only she got wrong in class. Introverted then—she did not raise her hand. One wrong answer—and Jiang Ya noticed.
Nearly ten years on—dialogue forgotten.
But sure—from that day the name Jiang Ya left a mark in her heart…
…
Memory cut off. Qi Yu came back, eyes blinking late.
She turned again, sighed deep through her nose, eyes slowly closed.
Seven years—even when she thought back she avoided everything about this person.
Since the honest talk she felt more open inside.
Like holding breath for years—thought it was obsession and attachment, swollen full. Then emptied at once—found it was not much…
If anything—stubbornness, unwilling to let go for herself and Jiang Ya both.
But now—all past.
They had shaken hands with each other and with who they were.
Maybe fate’s best arrangement.
.
Tutoring started sharp at ten Sunday morning.
Around eleven Jiang Ya felt unwell.
Halfway through session—hard to pause. She handed out prepared exercise sheets for students to work first.
Walking, dull heaviness low in her belly—too familiar. She did not delay, handed out papers, hurried to the bathroom.
Sure enough.
Her period had come early again.
Jiang Ya pushed hair back, annoyed.
Handled it fast, came out thinking—one more hour and rest.
She overestimated her body.
Got up too fast—head heavy, light-headed, feet like cotton, no solid ground.
Students in the living room all lowered heads when she appeared. Whispering vanished.
No one saw anything wrong.
Jiang Ya steadied the whiteboard stand, sat pale on the sofa. “You…”
Opening her mouth—voice frighteningly weak.
“Cough… cough… you—how far along?” She drank water, barely steadied.
“Just finished multiple choice.” Top student Xiao Li spoke first.
Others reported progress.
“Good… listen to teacher…” Jiang Ya pressed her brow on the sofa arm. Stray hair half hid her face.
“Originally… finish at twelve… but now…” Words like she had no strength—say one, stop one. “Teacher doesn’t feel well… go home early…”
“Next time I’ll make up the time… know… know?”
Sharp pain low in her belly—brow knit.
Students at the long table nodded, all watching her, wanting to speak, holding back.
Qi Xuan first: “Teacher… are you okay?”
“Should we… help you to rest…” Worried eyes.
“No…”
She gripped the leather sofa arm, lifted her head slowly. Strong dizziness—vision blurred. Pain like tearing in her abdomen—cold sweat soaking her back.
She looked at them—no voice—could only shake her head weakly, hand waving them away empty.
“Teacher… you’re really okay?”
“Go…” Jiang Ya finished. Head dropped at once—half her body on the sofa.
More worry. Several had packed up but no one dared leave first.
—“Really go? Teacher’s face is so white… low blood sugar?”
—“Don’t know… teacher said go… go or not?”
—“If we leave and something happens?”
They circled Jiang Ya, helpless, stuck.
Qi Xuan stared a long time, turned. “Chen Xiaojuan, you all go back together?”
The girl: “Yeah. We live close—few bus stops.”
“Then.” Qi Xuan stood. “You go first. I’ll wait for my cousin. I’ll stay and watch teacher.”
“Oh… okay. We’ll go. You watch her. Call if anything.”
The girl took candy from her bag, put several in Qi Xuan’s palm. Others came up too. After last concern they left together.
Door closed—dazed Qi Xuan and half-conscious Jiang Ya on the sofa.
Qi Xuan carefully pressed the candy into Jiang Ya’s wet palm, then messaged Qi Yu.
Just sent—on the sofa Jiang Ya waved at her.
“Teacher!” Qi Xuan ran to support her. “Teacher okay? Really low blood sugar? Try some candy?”
Jiang Ya’s face was not human-pale—no color at all.
Every move cost all her strength. Arm on Qi Xuan’s shoulder, other hand on sofa—barely standing.
“Help me… room… medicine…”
“Huh? Okay okay! I’ll help…”
“Slow, slow! Careful…”
Qi Xuan was tall but weak. Dragging Jiang Ya’s weight she could not straighten her back—walk crooked, stumbling—afraid they would both fall.
Those few steps were torture.
Near the bedroom door Jiang Ya’s breathing grew heavier in Qi Xuan’s ear.
Then Jiang Ya stopped still.
Qi Xuan tried to lift her—body went limp, slid soft against the wall, about to collapse.
“Teacher don’t scare me…” Qi Xuan let her sit against the wall, fumbled for her phone, dialing hand shaking.
“Hello? Cousin, come quick!”
“Teacher… something happened…”