Chapter 37: Rehearsal

It was the rehearsal for the Lantern Festival gala. As Lingjie put it, this was the first time she’d ever gone home with Teacher Yu for the Lunar New Year. Missing the first day’s show? Fine—she could understand that. But the Lantern Festival? That was non-negotiable. You *had* to make up for it. Got it?!

With Yu Tu still out, Jingjing had been busy rearranging things by the floor-to-ceiling window—candles flickering, fresh flowers arranged just so, a little dinner spread of salad and red wine. She lit scented candles, played Julian’s vinyl record, and there she stood: a girl with damp black hair, pale face, wearing a soft, flowing dress like moonlight given form.

Yu Tu came in dragging two suitcases, stepping into the memory of Alhambra’s graceful arches. He paused, almost instinctively twirling his fingers in the air as if conducting an invisible orchestra.

The living room glowed only with tiny lights, like scattered stars. The candlelight danced across the glass, pulsing like his heartbeat.

Home. It felt so good. With Jingjing around, Yu Tu could effortlessly shed years of dorm-room habits—slipping into clothes she’d laid out, sinking into the couch, trying to name the scent of the flowers, or maybe the legend of Asturias.

Once, he’d believed fine living was meaningless compared to time. His dreams were vast—stars, oceans, horizons. There was no room for delicate things. But Jingjing saw differently. She taught him beauty wasn’t one thing—it wore many faces. And life? Life was art too.

The night was stunning. The fragrance intoxicating. The music sublime. The wine rare. How rare? The dazed girl waved her hand lazily: “Yu Tu… you’re the only thing that matters.”

Jingjing had heard “goddess” too many times. But only here, in Yu Tu’s arms, did she believe it—not just goddess, but something more. In his lips, she was sweet fruit bursting. Under his fingers, she was cool spring water. In his devotion, she was a divine maiden, singing without fear, without doubt.

The night was too short. For the first time, Yu Tu didn’t want to wake up. He brushed her hair gently, watching her sleep peacefully.

The bedding was pink—so very Jingjing. Once, he’d found it too girly. Now, he knew: this was what a soft sanctuary felt like.

Thinking about home—home was good. But what if she wasn’t there? No gentle curve of her waist, no fragrant shoulder, no sparkling eyes, no soft whispers calling his name, no trustful weight leaning against him?

Yu Tu realized the phrase “lonely pillow” hit right on the nail. A single blanket—just a guest room. Even the dorms now felt hollow.

The holiday was too long. Hard to bear.

His fingers drifted over her waist. Jingjing liked wearing a thin chain around her hips—always trembling, always shimmering.

Following the chain, his fingertip brushed something warm, pressed close to her skin, heated by her body.

Afraid of waking her, he touched it gently—like Helen Keller tracing water with her fingertips. He knew. It was a ring. His.

Not flashy. Subtle. Textured. Shifting tones. Probably cool, quiet—maybe silver, maybe platinum.

She shifted slightly, murmuring in her sleep. “Jingjing… are you awake?”

She shook her head.

“Alright then. I’ll do it myself.”

She stirred a little more, nodded quickly.

“Okay… let’s do it together.”

“Is this… for me? Jingjing… help me put it on…”

Their hands clasped—long fingers entwined. Two rings stacked at a tender angle: one cool and firm, the other warm and smooth. Yu Tu leaned in and kissed her.

“At last… I know what soulmates look like.”

If not for Mom calling to ask if lunch could go in the pot, they might never have left the house.

They finally stepped out—only to get caught in the exodus from Shanghai, crawling slowly toward the toll gate.

“Mom, don’t wait for us. It’s a nightmare out here—we can’t fly.”

“No, I didn’t oversleep. It’s Yu Tu—he showed up late.”

Yu Tu thought the world was unfair. He had *five* ways to fight back. But still… he couldn’t bring himself to use them.

Only after hanging up did he replay it in his mind:
“Jingjing… that wasn’t fair. Punctuality’s always been one of my strengths. You can’t just erase it.”

“Then change your strength. Try patience. Tolerance. Big heart.”

“What if your parents don’t like me?”

“They like you *too much*—that’s why we need to balance it. Let them see you’re human, not a god.”

“Other people’s kids spent decades keeping the working class down. Now they’re rising up. Is that really so bad?”

“Jingjing, be reasonable.”

But Jingjing wasn’t the reasonable type. And even blindfolded, she could picture it—Yu Tu would be stuck with no chance to retaliate for days. If not now, when?

“And besides—you still have five strokes left. I’m being generous. I’ll cut one.”

“I thought I’d finish those last night and this morning.”

“Am I really that spineless?”

“Mr. Yu Tu—show some *spirit*!”

“Stop thinking about that stuff…”

Just then, Mom called again, interrupting Yu Tu’s spiritual awakening.

“Yu Tu, where are you? We said dinner at our place tonight!”

“Ask Jingjing what she wants. We’ll cook it for her.”

“Mom, we just left Shanghai. Lunch is still unpaid. Don’t go overboard with dinner.”

“That won’t do. The stew’s already simmering. The fish and shrimp were fresh this morning—can’t wait till tomorrow.”

“You should’ve left earlier.”

“Sorry, Auntie. Just now, Yu Tu was complaining I took too long getting ready.”

“Oh, Jingjing, don’t listen to him! Girls must look their best. Especially you—look like a fairy!”

“Yu Tu, be patient.”

“Mom, I mean… Jingjing looks perfect without makeup.”

“Well, yes… she’s beautiful no matter what.”

“Yu Tu, you need to be *even more* patient.”

“Mom! I’m driving. Gotta go!”

The ungrateful little fairy was already giggling uncontrollably, collapsing sideways. He reached over, fingers pinching her waist—soft, teasing.

“Qiao Jingjing… you’re gonna pay for this.”

By the time they reached Pingwang, the service area was small—just enough space to stretch legs and catch breath.

Twenty minutes later, a blogger dropped the news: *Pink Jingjing spotted at Pingwang Service Area.*

Likely heading home. Mercedes SUV. Plate withheld. Driver? A handsome man. The kind of handsome that made headlines.

They stopped at Jingjing’s house first—starving. Her parents had waited all day, untouched food on the table.

As usual, Jingjing tasted each dish once, barely eating. Yu Tu absorbed the rest of Mom’s warmth like a sponge.

Her dad? Calm, dignified, loving—exactly the kind of father who fits perfectly in any family photo.

And the meal? Still waiting.