Chapter Seventy-Nine: An Unexpected Reunion

The CoolPage Restaurant had arrived.

Jiang An parked the car, and the two of them got out together, walking to the entrance of the restaurant. A spirited waiter greeted them with an elegant bow, saying, “Good evening, welcome to our restaurant. May I ask if you have a reservation?”

Jiang An glanced inside the restaurant—nearly every seat was taken. Clearly, this was a popular place; without a reservation, they might have to wait or be turned away.

“Yes, I have a reservation. My surname is Tong. Please check,” Tong Yi replied with a smile.

The waiter looked down at the list. “Are you Miss Tong Yi?”

“That’s right.”

“Very well, please follow me,” the waiter said, smiling as he gestured them inside.

A reservation? Jiang An glanced at Tong Yi. She walked straight ahead, deliberately avoiding his gaze.

Soon, they were seated across from each other.

“Two of your signature steaks, medium,” Tong Yi said directly to the waiter without even looking at the menu, then turned to Jiang An. “Teacher, how about you?”

“I’ll have the same,” Jiang An answered casually.

“Two, then,” Tong Yi nodded. “Since you’re driving, we’ll skip the wine.”

“Two signature steak sets, medium rare. Please wait a moment,” the waiter confirmed before departing.

Then Tong Yi leaned forward and whispered, “Red wine goes best with steak, but I don’t have enough money, so we’ll skip it tonight. I hope you don’t mind, Teacher.”

Afraid Jiang An would misunderstand, she quickly added, “Since I’m treating you, I wanted to pay for it myself. This is from my New Year’s money, singing contest prizes, and what I earned doing translation work. Sorry, Teacher Jiang, every time I treat you it’s always a bit on a budget.”

“Not at all. I don’t really like wine anyway. And it’s admirable for a young woman to be self-sufficient,” Jiang An said with a smile. “You do translation work on the side?”

“Yes! I’m a top student in the foreign languages department!” Tong Yi declared with a princess-like pride. “I don’t even need to mention English. I can speak French, and a little German too. That’s how I earn some extra money.”

“I see, that’s excellent,” Jiang An nodded.

Tong Yi beamed, resting her face in her hands as she looked at Jiang An. “Teacher, usually I’m the one asking the questions and you’re the one answering. Why don’t you ask me something for a change?”

Ask a question? Jiang An was a bit taken aback, unsure what to ask. After a moment’s thought, he said, “I heard your classmates call you Yanyan. Is that a nickname?”

Tong Yi blushed slightly at the mention, her voice soft. “Actually, when I was little, my name wasn’t Tong Yi—it was Tong Yan. That’s why everyone calls me Yanyan. But after a few years, whenever people heard the name Tong Yan, they’d always associate it with another word—well, you know, Teacher, it’s a little embarrassing. So my parents changed my name.”

Tong Yan? That’s… well, impressive.

Jiang An instinctively lifted his gaze to avoid looking at her.

“Tong Yi isn’t a bad name either, though it sounds a bit like ‘Auntie Tong,’ so my friends either call me Yanyan or Little Tong. No one calls me Little Yi,” Tong Yi explained further.

She liked this atmosphere—ambiguous and full of excitement, with the beginnings of mutual understanding. She bit her rosy lower lip and asked, “Teacher Jiang, do you have any—?”

Before she could finish, the dishes arrived—the waiter brought two steaming steaks.

“Dinner’s here!” Tong Yi quickly urged Jiang An to start. “Teacher, try it and see how it tastes.”

Jiang An cut a small piece and tasted it. The beef was tender and juicy, cooked just right. But to a sage’s palate, it was only average.

“It’s good, tasty,” Jiang An said with a gentle laugh.

Tong Yi smiled in relief, revealing neat, white teeth. She smoothed her silky hair back with both hands, her perfect features shining under the light. The gesture was irresistibly feminine—sensual and charming.

“Teacher, I’m a foodie, you know. Be careful, or I’ll finish my steak and steal yours too,” Tong Yi teased, seeing how slowly Jiang An was eating.

Jiang An simply smiled, and they both began to enjoy the meal.

But silence wasn’t what Tong Yi wanted. Her big eyes darted about, and suddenly she waved to the waiter.

He quickly approached. “Miss, may I help you?”

“Excuse me, may I play the piano here for a while?”

“Of course, if you’d like,” the waiter replied, which pleased Tong Yi greatly.

She turned to Jiang An. “Teacher, I’ll play and sing a song for you. Be sure to listen and see how I do.”

Without waiting for a reply, she stood and walked to the piano in the corner. The pianist, who had been playing gentle melodies, stood up with a smile, leaving the seat for her.

Tong Yi sat down with an air of confidence. Her long, fair fingers were graceful—perfect for the piano. She glanced at Jiang An, saw he was watching her, and began to play.

As her fingers danced over the keys, a melodious, lyrical tune flowed out, like a warm spring breeze. Diners turned to look, their gazes drawn to her delicate, incomparable face.

“I linger here, watching the one who journeys far,
From dusk to dawn, sorrow threads my heart,
The song of joy arises, I turn against the wind,
Your silhouette reflected in my eyes,
In dreams I often roam the Isles of the Immortals…”

As soon as Tong Yi began to sing, her voice was clear and moving, painting a picture of a young woman waiting in sorrow for her beloved, yet with a hidden joy beneath the sadness.

Jiang An was visibly moved. Watching Tong Yi play and sing, he realized the true meaning of her song—it was an acrostic, every line spelling out a secret message: “I-miss-you.” Beautiful words of love. But…

Jiang An bit his lip and suddenly made up his mind.

When the song ended, Tong Yi rose to a round of enthusiastic applause and admiration—from her performance, her singing, and her beauty.

Her cheeks flushed, she bowed, and hurried back to Jiang An’s side.

“Teacher, how was my singing? Quick, praise me! Good friends should shamelessly encourage each other!” Tong Yi said cheerfully.

Looking into her soft, bright eyes, Jiang An felt a pang of guilt, but still smiled. “You were wonderful! For a young woman, you’re truly outstanding. You looked so beautiful playing the piano. I plan to have my daughter learn piano too—though I don’t know if she’ll want to.”

The first half of his words were like warm sunlight, filling Tong Yi’s heart with spring. But the next sentence was thunder from a clear sky—her smile froze, her mind went blank.

Teacher Jiang… what did he just say… his daughter?

Jiang An steeled himself, pulled out his phone, unlocked the screen, and handed it to Tong Yi with a gentle expression. “Here, this is my daughter—and my wife. See, the three of us make a great family, don’t we?”

It was a photo: a man and a woman holding a porcelain-doll little girl. The man was Jiang An; the woman, more beautiful than any flower, and all three wore radiant smiles, happiness practically overflowing from the image.

A single second felt as long as a century.

Tong Yi’s body trembled uncontrollably. She reached for her water glass, but knocked it over, spilling water on her sleeve. She clumsily tried to mop it up, then bowed her head and began to cut her steak, muttering, “Such a happy family… Eat, eat, let’s eat!”

Jiang An could clearly hear the stifled sob in her voice.

She quickly cut the steak and put it in her mouth, eating as fast as she could. Her mouth was soon too full to swallow, and her long hair fell to cover her face, hiding her expression. Only the sound of her desperate chewing could be heard.

Drip. Drip.

Through a gap, he saw tear after tear fall onto the steak, soaking the plate, then being eaten together with her food.

She wept silently, not wanting him to see, her pain tearing her apart.

Jiang An suddenly felt a sharp ache in his heart. His hand gripped the armrest so hard that his veins stood out and the fabric bore his fingerprints. How he wished he could reach out and gently stroke her hair, to tell her not to be sad. But if you can’t cut things off cleanly, chaos will follow. He already had Song Wanshuang, the woman he would cherish for a lifetime, and a daughter sent by the heavens. He could not entangle himself with this good girl. Love is always the excuse of a fickle heart.

I’m sorry—you came into my life too late. That is all.

Tong Yi understood as well.

She had seen Jiang An many times, always alone. His home was cold and quiet. She had subconsciously assumed he was single.

And now, everything was too late…

You hadn’t arrived, so how could I grow old? But when I finally met you, I only saw your happiness with someone else. How foolish I was—I should smile and wish you well, but my heart aches, it truly aches!

Tong Yi broke down. She could no longer hold back. Covering her face, she wept bitterly at the table. The sauce and her tears mingled, staining her hair and her clothes, but she didn’t care—she only cried.

People nearby turned to look, whispering softly.

Jiang An sighed quietly. Cry, let it all out. You’re still young—you’ll forget me soon, and I’ll disappear from your life as well.

He silently called the waiter, paid the bill with his card, then stood, took off his jacket, and draped it over Tong Yi, wrapping her up. Under the astonished gaze of the entire restaurant, he lifted her in his arms and carried her outside.

Tong Yi curled up, letting him do as he pleased. Jiang An placed her in the passenger seat. She hid under his jacket like a wounded little rabbit, unable to stop crying.

The car sped through the night, soon arriving at the building where Tong Yi lived.

In the quiet car, only the muffled sound of Tong Yi’s sobs could be heard. Jiang An stared ahead and said softly, “You’re home.”

Given her state, it was best to bring her home.

After a few seconds, Jiang An glanced down—a small, pale, warm hand stretched over and gripped his tightly.

Was this her last plea?

Jiang An closed his eyes and exhaled, then opened them again, resolve clear in his gaze. “Go home. Take good care of yourself.”

Under the jacket, Tong Yi trembled again at his mercilessness.

She quietly opened the car door and got out, her clothes disheveled, hair in disarray, leaving Jiang An with a frail, lonely silhouette. She staggered away, step by step, as if each footfall was a piece of her soul breaking away—she had lost her spirit.

Long time no see, yet it was a farewell.