Chapter 23: Ceramic Knife
As soon as Gu Qinghuan got home, she let out a burp. Combined with the smell of fried skewers all over her, even with just her toes Gu Haiyan could guess she had gone to eat them again.
“Are you eating dinner tonight?” Gu Haiyan asked.
Gu Qinghuan shook her head. “I’m full.”
In the kitchen, Wang Jia’an was busy adding sugar to a pot of simmering mung bean soup. Hearing this, he poked his head out. “Not even mung bean soup?”
Gu Qinghuan was a little tempted, but after patting her stomach, she shook her head again. “I’ll drink it after I finish my homework tonight. It can chill in the fridge for a while.”
Gu Haiyan let it be, but after glancing at the clock and calculating in her head, she asked, “Your classmate brought you home again?”
“Mm, today Chuchu took Xin Bao and me out to eat,” Gu Qinghuan replied.
“Chuchu, Xin Bao…” Gu Haiyan made the connection. “You mean Jiang Chuchu and Yu Xin? You’re already calling them by nicknames, huh?”
Gu Qinghuan didn’t intend to tell her family about the system or the business of stopping someone’s rebirth, but she did chat about her classmates, so Gu Haiyan knew a few of their names.
Wang Jia’an came out carrying the pot of mung bean soup, hesitating before saying, “It’s not great to always have classmates drive you. How about we buy another car? Next time, I can pick you up.”
The family did have a car, but it had been totaled in an accident not long ago. The insurance claim was still being processed.
Even though their lottery winnings were more than enough to buy a replacement, both of them still had lingering psychological shadows from the crash, and lately they only sat in the back seat when riding in cars.
“It’s fine. Buy it when you feel ready,” Gu Qinghuan waved it off. “Besides, Chuchu’s family has a full-time driver who picks her up and drops her off every day. Giving us a ride really doesn’t mean much to her.”
She’d remember the favor, but if she insisted on repaying it in a formal way, Jiang Chuchu might actually feel unhappy.
Wang Jia’an thought that made sense and didn’t press further. He ladled a bowl of mung bean soup into the fridge, then he and Gu Haiyan sat down for dinner — mung bean soup and buns.
Gu Qinghuan went back to her room to do homework. She liked to finish it all on Friday night so she could relax over the weekend.
Mingde’s teachers were excellent, but the workload wasn’t small — in fact, the questions were more varied and creative, as if they had an endless supply of exercise books.
Locally, the “new gaokao” system was in place, without the traditional arts/science split. Gu Qinghuan hadn’t yet decided on her three elective subjects, planning to study them all for now and choose later based on which ones suited her best.
She was down to just a few short-answer questions and an essay for Chinese when her head started to feel bloated. She walked to the window for some fresh air.
I’ll write the essay tomorrow, she thought. As for the short-answer questions… I’ll drink the mung bean soup first, then finish them. I’m getting hungry anyway.
There were a few questions she couldn’t do yet — she’d check if anyone in the class group asked about them over the weekend, then slip in her own questions.
Heading toward the kitchen, she picked up her phone to check for messages.
In the class group, people were chatting about weekend plans, but by the time she looked, the conversation was basically over, and she didn’t intend to join in.
There were, however, a few private messages.
Jiang Chuchu had sent her a selfie with her mother, both holding up “potato towers” as if to toast, topped with red and yellow sauces from home.
Gu Qinghuan sent a thumbs-up emoji: [You two really know how to eat. Auntie is so pretty.]
The other sender was a surprise — Bai Hanshan.
What’s the vice president of the student council messaging me for? she wondered, opening the chat.
Bai Hanshan: [Free this weekend?]
Gu Qinghuan: [May I ask what it’s about?]
He had messaged half an hour ago, but as soon as she sent her reply, his side showed “typing…” immediately.
Bai Hanshan: [The student council will start normal operations next week, and the place needs to be tidied up.]
Gu Qinghuan’s face fell. Who wants to spend their weekend cleaning the school?
As if reading her mind, more messages came quickly:
Bai Hanshan: [There will be professionals cleaning, but it’s better if you choose your own office.]
[Also, you’ll need to order equipment — laptop, printer, filing cabinet, office chairs, sofa… even a coffee machine if you want one.]
Gu Qinghuan’s eyes widened. She had underestimated Mingde — no, underestimated Mingde’s student council!
Gu Qinghuan: [Alright! What time tomorrow?]
Bai Hanshan: [10 a.m.? Once we finish, we can grab lunch and I’ll explain the council’s work in detail.]
Gu Qinghuan was about to agree, then added:
Gu Qinghuan: [Alright. By the way, could I also ask you for help with a few questions?]
Bai Hanshan: […Sure.]
Perfect — “tutor” problem solved too! Pumped, Gu Qinghuan drank the chilled mung bean soup right there at the fridge, then went back to finish her short-answer questions in one go.
Bai Hanshan rubbed his brow after their chat, then messaged Xia He: [You’re really not coming tomorrow?]
Xia He: [As much as I want to, I can’t. I’ve got to deal with those pieces of trash tomorrow.]
Bai Hanshan hesitated a few seconds before warning him: [Stay calm.]
At the start of every month, the Xia family held a family banquet, the exact date set by the patriarch. All Xia family members living in the city had to attend unless there was a genuine work conflict.
In theory, these banquets were for bonding and exchanging information. For Xia He, though, meeting the people who had indirectly caused his parents’ deaths was more disgusting than swallowing a fly.
For years, he’d either avoided attending or kept a low profile if he did. But two years ago, after clashing with someone at a banquet, he changed completely — now he attended every time, and caused trouble every time. His motto: “If I’m going to suffer, I might as well go crazy.”
Xia He: [I’ll be calm~]
Bai Hanshan was getting a headache.
Xia He: [Tomorrow, take good care of her for me. Whatever she wants, buy it. The best!]
What a spendthrift, Bai Hanshan thought, though based on what he knew of Gu Qinghuan, she would never accept it anyway.
Elsewhere, Xia He tossed his phone aside and flopped onto his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling for a while before reaching under his pillow.
He pulled out a small ceramic knife.
Removing the sheath, he held it up toward the ceiling light, staring at it for a long time. Out of habit, he started to press the blade to his arm.
But as soon as the cold edge touched his skin, he snapped out of it, quickly sheathing the knife and tucking it back under the pillow.
Not doing that anymore, he told himself, glancing at the seven scars still on his arm.
Next week, once one more disappeared, he’d get to have fried chicken and milk tea with Gu Qinghuan. He couldn’t throw that away now.
Sure, he could cut somewhere less visible, but if Gu Qinghuan found out, she’d definitely be angry — and maybe… sad?
Wait, would she be sad? Xia He wasn’t sure. He thought about it for a bit, then got lazy and stopped.
Either way, she’d be angry. To avoid that, he’d better hold back.
