Chapter 2 : Flowers picked up in the trash

Just Past Rush Hour

Jiang Yule caught a cab smoothly after the evening rush.
She slipped the ring off her left hand, placing it in the box with its pair.

Lowering the window, she let the gentle breeze brush her cheeks.

Her phone buzzed relentlessly.
Jiang Yule glanced coldly, ignoring Lin Siqiong’s messages.
She opened the family group chat, seeing her dad, Chu Guoan: [Just got the app alert. Ask the driver to take it slow, okay?]

For safety, Chu Guoan had linked her ride-hailing app, tracking her every move.
The moment she booked a ride, her dad knew.

In this city she’d lived in for 23 years, Jiang Yule suddenly felt an urgent need to escape.
It was suffocating, like she couldn’t breathe.

She took two deep breaths, replying in the group chat: [Got it.]

Ignoring the new message previews piling up, she turned her gaze to the window.

The buzzing didn’t stop.
She glanced at the fleeting street scenes outside, then looked down at her phone.
No new messages.

Exiting the chat, she wasn’t surprised to see Lin Siqiong’s pinned chat marked with a red “9” in the corner.

The latest preview read: [Reply.]

Lin Siqiong had never sent her so many messages.
But, as always, it was a command to respond.

Jiang Yule turned off the screen, lowering the window fully.

A crescent moon hung high, clouds scattered.
No rain would fall tonight.
Good.

Su Yingying, seeing her message from five minutes ago, called immediately.

“Over so soon? No round two?”

Jiang Yule almost laughed.
“We never had a round two.”

Su Yingying muttered, “Is she, like, asexual or something?”

“Who knows.”
Jiang Yule thought of every rejected intimate moment, every dodged talk about the future, every forgotten anniversary.
Maybe the details she’d ignored had always hinted at today.

She’d always sensed it faintly, only to drown in Lin Siqiong’s subtle affection the next second.

Jiang Yule used to lie to herself, forever optimistic.
Maybe Lin Siqiong was just traditional, slow to open up.
Maybe their relationship wasn’t there yet.

Clarity came in a flash.

It wasn’t about timing.
Lin Siqiong didn’t love her enough.
Or rather, Lin Siqiong didn’t love her at all—she’d already moved on.

Jiang Yule recalled how every mention of going public was brushed off with vague “teacher-student” excuses.

But Li Anqi was her actual student.

Jiang Yule suddenly found herself laughable.

“She didn’t post anything on Moments. You didn’t bring up going public?”

“Let’s talk later. I need a break.”

Hanging up, Jiang Yule pulled out earphones, plugging both ears.
Only the music remained—the song Like, meant for Lin Siqiong.

She’d looped it for two weeks to master it.

It was her favorite song, but now she couldn’t bear another second.
She switched tracks.

Moments later, she switched back.
What did the song do wrong?

At home, Jiang Yule spotted her mom, Jiang Huazhen, waiting at the door.

Jiang Huazhen frowned at her outfit.
“What are you wearing? It’s too improper.”

The expected scolding came.
Jiang Yule had no energy to argue.
She threw herself into her mom’s arms, murmuring, “Mom, I missed you so much.”

Jiang Huazhen sensed her mood.
“Classmate gathering didn’t go well?”

Jiang Yule had told the family group chat she was dining out, not coming home for dinner.
Jiang Huazhen assumed it was a classmate event.

Jiang Yule didn’t explain—she couldn’t tell her mom the truth.
“No, just feeling sentimental about graduating.”

Jiang Huazhen stroked her hair, leading her inside.
“Partings are inevitable.”

Yeah, Jiang Yule had never been in Lin Siqiong’s future plans.
Parting was always coming.

She’d just refused to face it.

It was hot tonight.
Playing guitar outdoors earlier, Jiang Yule had sweated plenty.
Heading to the bathroom to shower, she raised a hand and realized—the necklace was still with Lin Siqiong.

After showering, Jiang Yule opened her blog to write, as usual.
Selecting a collection, her eyes landed on “Our Daily Life” and “Our Future.”

She’d meticulously planned their future, while Lin Siqiong plotted her exit.

Her fingers tingled.
She looked away with difficulty.
WeChat notifications chimed.

It was a video call from Su Yingying.

The moment it connected, Su Yingying’s loud voice blared.
“Holy sh*t, Li Anqi and Lin Siqiong are way too cozy!”

“What?”

Even Su Yingying noticed Lin Siqiong’s mole?

“Check Li Anqi’s Moments.”
Su Yingying wanted to screenshot it but figured Jiang Yule should see it herself.

Jiang Yule opened Li Anqi’s Moments.
Another update.

[Don’t wanna graduate. Love my academic group so much, especially—my favorite professor sister!]

The photos were graduation shots.
Center stage: a solo picture with Lin Siqiong, both wearing couple’s rings, making a heart.

A teacher-student heart pose wasn’t unusual.
But paired with that caption, it screamed official announcement.

Jiang Yule’s fingers tingled.
She’d forgotten to breathe.

“Yueyue!”
“Yueyue!”

Jiang Yule snapped back, laughing bitterly.
“Lin Siqiong might’ve cheated. I found out today.”

“No way!”

Lin Siqiong’s call came in.
Jiang Yule rejected it, her bitterness spilling.
“They’re wearing couple’s rings. Lin Siqiong gave me and Li Anqi identical necklaces.”

“Oh, and Li Anqi calls her sister.”

Su Yingying was stunned.
“How are you saying this so calmly?”

Jiang Yule blinked.
“Been guessing for a while. Today I got answers.”

She and Lin Siqiong had fought over Li Anqi countless times, always ending with Lin Siqiong’s promises of “no next time.”

What a joke—she’d worn that V-neck dress tonight, risking her mom’s scolding, practiced guitar to please her, only to humiliate herself.

Giving a student a necklace, wearing couple’s rings, being called “sister” flirtatiously—Lin Siqiong cast aside all ethics and boundaries.

“You broke up?”

“Not yet. Let’s see how she plays this.”

Jiang Yule’s calm was eerie.
Su Yingying’s heart ached.
How much disappointment had she buried to face this blade so coolly?

“Want me to come over tonight?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

About to comfort her, Su Yingying heard the door.

Su Yubai had just walked in.

“Sis, you’re back! Wait, you bought flowers?”

Jiang Yule was curious—Su Yingying was at Su Yubai’s place?
The video flipped, settling on the flowers in Su Yubai’s arms.
Su Yingying sighed, “Yueyue, look at these flowers. Feel any better?”

The flowers were too familiar: seven white roses, thirteen pink tulips.

Jiang Yule held her breath.
A clear, cold voice cut through—

“Picked them from the trash.”

Su Yingying hadn’t expected that.
She flipped the camera back, hesitating.
“Sis, maybe… toss them?”

“Wasteful.”

Su Yingying, always wary of her sister, was a guest in her home.
She didn’t dare comment on Su Yubai’s choices.
Explaining to Jiang Yule, she said, “Yueyue, my sis is super frugal. You know she hates waste.”

Due to her childhood, Su Yubai’s thrift was legendary in academia.
Even Su Yingying hadn’t imagined her sister would pick flowers from a bin…

Jiang Yule stared, dazed, struggling to speak.
“Yingying, put on earphones, please?”

The frame shifted.
Su Yingying found earphones and put them on.
Jiang Yule whispered, “Those flowers… I gave them to Lin Siqiong.”

If her suspicions lacked proof before, now Jiang Yule was certain—Lin Siqiong didn’t like her.

She’d even thrown away Jiang Yule’s flowers.

Jiang Yule thought she wouldn’t grieve for her.
But when the knife struck, despite all her defenses, the pain was searing.

She was endlessly grateful these flowers ended up with Su Yubai by chance, spared from rotting in a dumpster.

“You sure?”
Su Yingying turned the camera, following Su Yubai’s figure, focusing on the flowers.

“Positive.”
Who else would pair those flowers in those numbers?

“F*ck, she’s such a jerk!”

Su Yubai’s gaze flicked over.
Su Yingying thought she’d disturbed her.
“Going to the bedroom, sis. Night!”

Jiang Yule caught a glimpse of Su Yubai’s deep eyes in the frame.

Su Yingying cursed Lin Siqiong mercilessly.
Jiang Yule’s mood lifted slightly but still sank.
Her heart felt crushed, overwhelmed by bitter sorrow.

Lin Siqiong called again.
Jiang Yule didn’t move, seeing her new message: [Let me explain.]

“Gotta go. Lin Siqiong’s calling.”
Jiang Yule switched to the call, curious how Lin Siqiong would spin this.

“You mad about Li Anqi’s Moments?”
Lin Siqiong sounded exasperated, like Jiang Yule was throwing a tantrum.
She explained impatiently, “The necklace? I saw it looked good on her, so I asked for the link and bought one. The ring? She gave them to everyone in our group as graduation gifts. The photos? I took one with every student.”

“Can you not overthink?”

That line again.

Every fight, every cold war, Lin Siqiong used it—like Jiang Yule’s suspicions were the problem.

Jiang Yule steadied her emotions, asking calmly, “Lin Siqiong, one question. Where are the flowers I gave you?”

Silence stretched on the other end.

“Send me a photo now, and I’ll pretend nothing happened.”

“Sorry, I forgot them.”
Lin Siqiong’s voice was soft.

Jiang Yule’s heart died.

“We’re done.”

Without waiting for a reply, she hung up.
Her chest ached, desperate to cry but unable.

Too many disappointments, too much heartbreak—her tear ducts must be numb.

The phone rang repeatedly.
Irritation surged.
She craved a cola.

Her parents banned junk food; no cola at home.
She’d have to sneak downstairs to buy one.

Jiang Yule cracked the door open, hearing her mom’s voice—

“Xiao Lin helped Yueyue publish papers and is her advisor’s colleague. Should we invite her to the mentor appreciation dinner?”

Jiang Yule froze.

Her mom, Jiang Huazhen, was editor-in-chief of China Economics, a top domestic journal.
To avoid bias, she rarely discussed publications at home, only asking if Jiang Yule met graduation requirements or how many SSCI or CSSCI papers she’d published.

She never asked who co-authored or what the papers covered.

Jiang Yule assumed Lin Siqiong and her mom weren’t acquainted, let alone close enough for “Xiao Lin.”

Her dad, Chu Guoan, spoke next.
“Speaking of her, she’s sharp. Today at the Business School’s promotion review, I saw her dossier. She put her paper with Yueyue at the top.”

“She was neck-and-neck with Zhou Anran, maybe even slightly behind. But the panel saw Yueyue’s name, assumed she was close to us, and voted for her.”

Close to us.

Her mom laughed.
“Xiao Lin’s a good person. I often see her at dinners.”

Good person.
Often seen.

A thought Jiang Yule never considered struck her.
Maybe Lin Siqiong targeted her background from the start—a dad who’s a vice-president and economics expert, a mom who’s a top journal editor.

If Lin Siqiong didn’t stop loving her, maybe she never loved her at all.
That’s why she dodged key talks, refused intimacy, and trampled her heart without care.

She should’ve seen it sooner.