Chapter 20: Do You Have Wine?

“Professor Su, do you have any wine?”

“What’s wrong?”
Su Yubai’s voice, hoarse with concern, met Jiang Yule’s tearful eyes.

Her care unleashed a flood of emotions.
Tears streamed down Jiang Yule’s face, unstoppable.

Grievance, sadness, and loss threatened to drown her.

Su Yubai stepped quickly to her side, sitting on the sofa.
She grabbed tissues, her hand rising toward Jiang Yule’s cheek, then hesitating.
Jiang Yule looked up.

Su Yubai’s hand lifted again, the tissue soaking instantly with her warm tears.

The dampness traveled from Su Yubai’s fingertips to her heart.

Jiang Yule let her wipe around her eyes, trying to stop crying but failing, sobs intensifying.

She glimpsed confusion and near-pain in Su Yubai’s eyes, fleeting, like when she comforted her as a child—yet different.

She couldn’t read it, couldn’t name it.
Maybe she could share this with her.
Jiang Yule took the tissue, handing her the phone.

Su Yubai saw an unlabelled number’s text:

[Yule, I know you can’t like Su Yubai. You wanted to study abroad to escape your family’s control, right? Studying at HKU was your backup. You liked me and dated me to rebel against them, didn’t you? So you wouldn’t like Su Yubai—she’s part of the system that suffocates you.

Make up with me. Let’s go to Hong Kong, build our own home. No one will stop us there.]

It was the first time Jiang Yule cried since their breakup, piled onto family stress.
Lin Siqiong’s words, reducing their three-year relationship to selfish rebellion, shattered her.
They denied her sincerity in love.

Maybe Lin Siqiong’s free-spirited charm initially drew her, but Jiang Yule had loved her wholeheartedly.

She’d saved for monthly Hong Kong round-trip tickets for the second half of the year, even when Lin Siqiong said she’d visit “when free.”

Planning and saving weren’t overnight tasks, but she’d never mentioned it to her.

And Su Yubai…
As a child, Jiang Yule knew she was different from the Jiang and Su families.

Since her return, it was clearer—Su Yubai stood apart from most in their circle.

How many in economics truly devoted themselves to scholarship?
Most chased connections, co-authored without writing, climbed ranks, and spoke confidently at conferences despite few original works.

Su Yubai was different.
She didn’t suffocate her—she offered a rare sense of safety.

“Can I reply for you?”
Su Yubai’s voice was cold.

Without thinking, Jiang Yule nodded.

She watched Su Yubai type, switching to a 26-key input, slowly crafting:
[Lin Siqiong, stop pestering. We’re done. You’re not hung up on me—you’re hung up on your sunk costs.]

Su Yubai looked up.
“Okay?”

“Okay,” Jiang Yule said, voice still choked.

Su Yubai sent it, blacklisted the number in front of her, and set the phone on the coffee table.
“I’ll make ginger tea.”

Giving her space to calm down.
Jiang Yule’s gaze followed her.

Su Yubai paused, turned back, and leaned down, pulling her into a brief embrace, her warm hand resting on her hair.

“Don’t cry. It’s not worth it,” came her soft voice.

The hug lasted a moment, her hand retreating as she stepped quickly to the kitchen.

Jiang Yule realized her tears had stopped—maybe when Su Yubai offered to reply, or during that comforting embrace.

She sat, then went to the bathroom to freshen up.

Inside, she found only basic toiletries, tissues, and sanitary items.

Not even a lipstick.

She paused, then washed her face, smiling wryly at her still-red eyes in the mirror.

Without the family issue, Lin Siqiong’s text might not have hit so hard.

Stepping out, she heard kitchen noises—Su Yubai was cooking.

She followed softly, spotting Su Yubai’s back at the stove.
Ginger and red date scents wafted over.

Her loungewear, gray like the house, blended perfectly.

“It’s almost ready,” Su Yubai said without turning, sensing her.

Jiang Yule paused, then approached.
“Need help, Professor Su?”

“No.”
She saw two water-beaded glasses by Su Yubai’s side, even the cutting board and knife cleaned and stowed.

No help needed.

Su Yubai lifted the pot lid, releasing a spicy ginger-date aroma.

She scooped dark red granules from a jar.
“Enough?”

“Plenty.”
Jiang Yule relaxed—good thing Su Yubai added sugar to ginger tea too.

Otherwise, it’d be tough to drink.

Steaming ginger-date tea was poured into the glasses, three-quarters full.

Jiang Yule reached for one, but Su Yubai stopped her.
“Wait, it’s hot.”

“Okay.”
She halted.

Su Yubai grabbed ice from the fridge, adding six cubes to each glass.

As the ice melted, the tea cooled.
After drinking, Jiang Yule realized they’d forgotten about wine.

Su Yubai, so health-conscious, probably didn’t drink.

Jiang Yule regretted asking about wine impulsively.

“Jiang Yule, still want a drink?”
Su Yubai’s sudden question startled her.

She shook her head quickly.
“No, no, I’m good now.”

Emotions flare and fade fast.

Su Yubai nodded.
“Then we won’t.”

“Okay.”
Jiang Yule glanced at the clock above the sofa—nearly 9 p.m.
Her parents were likely home, noticing her absence.

Su Yubai followed her gaze, saying softly, “Don’t worry.”

She knew what troubled her.
Jiang Yule turned to her.

“Want to watch a movie?”
Su Yubai turned on the TV, handing her the remote.

“What kind do you usually watch, Professor Su?”

“I don’t.”
A pause, then, “But if I did, probably romance.”

“Let’s watch a romance then.”
Jiang Yule opened the romance collection.

As expected, all straight romances.

“Pick what you like. Don’t mind me.”

She chose a high-rated one, then remembered.
“Professor Su, this won’t delay your research, will it?”

She’d heard Su Yubai worked until 10:30 p.m. even on holidays, and in Wuzhou, she read papers relentlessly.

“It’s fine. I’m resting tonight.”

Jiang Yule hit play.

The opening was artistic, but her mind was on family issues.
Sure enough, her phone rang.

Jiang Huazhen.

She hesitated, but Su Yubai muted the TV.
“Answer it. Don’t worry.”
She went to the study.

Jiang Yule picked up, silent.

Jiang Huazhen, used to her “Mom” greeting, was thrown off by the silence.
“Yule, you came home and left again?”

Still silent.

“Jiang Yule, speak.”
Jiang Huazhen grew impatient.

“Yes.”
Jiang Yule held back.

“Where are you?”
“Out.”

Ignoring her vagueness, Jiang Huazhen asked, “You saw the application, didn’t you?”

She brought it up herself.
Jiang Yule’s calmed emotions flared.
“Yes, so you planned to tell me when I boarded the plane?”

Sensing her tone and her own guilt, Jiang Huazhen softened.
“No, there’s a conference invite. I thought I’d spend some time with you.”

“But your start date matches mine, for a month, with a note about possibly extending to two. That’s ‘by the way’?”

A pause.
“Yule, you’ve grown up. You never questioned me like this before.”

Grievance surged, tears falling as Jiang Yule’s voice broke.
“Mom, I’ve always respected you. I know you want what’s best, that you love me.”

“But I want to respect myself. I’m an adult with feelings.”

“You make all the decisions, but what about me? Do I never get a say? Are my words unworthy of respect?”

“I didn’t mean to disrespect you…”
Jiang Huazhen’s voice softened.

“At the banquet, I said I didn’t want Lin Siqiong invited. You invited her anyway.”

As Jiang Huazhen tried to respond, Jiang Yule continued, “Was my reason not enough? Isn’t my unwillingness enough?”

“And this time, we agreed—if my article was accepted, I’d go to Hong Kong alone.”

“You broke your promise. What’s the excuse now? Some nonsense academic conference?”

Her language was improper, and Jiang Huazhen got mad.
“Jiang Yule! How can you talk to me like that? And it’s just an acceptance notice…”

Ignoring her usual tactics, Jiang Yule pressed, “You’re not going to say an acceptance notice doesn’t count as published, are you? Editor Jiang, that’s laughable.”

She was almost laughing from anger.
Everyone knew retracting an accepted paper would damage a journal’s reputation, especially someone like Jiang Huazhen.

Silence, then a gentle tone.
“I’m worried you won’t adjust to Hong Kong alone.”

“Mom, did you forget? Dad was a visiting scholar there. We lived there for six months.”

“You were young.”

“Fifteen is young? I’m almost 24 now—still a little girl to you?”

Others might take pride in being their mother’s eternal child.
For Jiang Yule, it was just a tool for control, dismissing her will.

After a long pause, Jiang Huazhen said, “You’re upset and speaking rashly. I don’t blame you.”

Jiang Yule calmed, saying evenly, “These are my heartfelt words, bottled up for a long time.”

She hung up, staring at the shifting movie scenes.

After a while, Su Yubai emerged.

Jiang Yule turned, hearing her ask, “Want that drink now?”

Surprised, she nodded slowly.

“Come pick.”

Jiang Yule followed to the dining room, discovering a cabinet with alcohol.

Even her favorite brand of fruit wine.

She grabbed a lychee cocktail, watching Su Yubai take a red wine bottle and two goblets.

On the balcony, the view was stunning, the night beautiful.

Su Yubai set up a small table and brought two cushions.

They sat on the floor.

Jiang Yule finished her cocktail, pouring red wine next.

She didn’t recall what she said or when she got drunk.

Only a vague memory of Su Yubai asking, near the end:

“Why don’t you call me ‘sister’ anymore since I came back?”
“Is that name just for Lin Siqiong?”