Crossing the Line – Chapter 82
by Little PandaArms Wide Open, Wrapped Around Lin Ji’s Waist
Coming out of the tattoo studio, Jiang Siyi now carried an extra tattoo on her chest — identical to Lin Ji’s.
A silly little bunny, drawn in simple line work.
Since it was meant to commemorate a moment of two hearts beating as one, the one over Lin Ji’s heart could hardly be left all alone.
From now on, this design existed nowhere else in the world — a matched pair.
……
After the honeymoon, the Autumn Auction was close on the horizon.
Siyi needed to snap back into work mode fast.
The honeymoon had been easygoing — she deliberately kept work off her mind — but she never let herself drift too far out of form: her every-few-mornings vocal training had continued without fail. Now and then she would watch footage of her own auctions, murmuring along with the bidding cadence to keep her rhythm. In the slivers of time between, she browsed industry news as a light diversion.
At the Gold, Stone, and Jade Department’s first full-run rehearsal for the Autumn Auction, Siyi was in peak form.
Even Wu Yilu commented that Xiao Jiang had come back from her honeymoon somehow even more seasoned.
Siyi had already stood on the grand stage of the Spring Auction, and had hosted auctions large and small since — she’d grown fast, and ordinary sales no longer made her nervous.
Still, the Autumn Auction weighed as heavily as ever in her heart.
The grandest, highest-volume sale of the year — the lots she’d handle and the sales targets were on a scale no ordinary session could touch.
This year she was on the rise in her career, and about to transfer departments; countless eyes watched her, openly and in the shadows.
And there was a weightier layer of pressure still.
Wu Yilu had secured Siyi a solo star auction session from CEO Gu.
Only the second personal auction by an individual auctioneer that Jiashibi’s J City branch had held in five years.
Word was that this year the global CEO, President Yan, would be coming to J City to inspect the Autumn Auction. Siyi would not permit herself the slightest error.
The whole of Jiashibi was frantic in the run-up to the Autumn Auction.
Only one man of leisure stood out from the crowd.
Vice Manager Yao of the Chinese Painting and Calligraphy Department was run off her feet, while her superior Oliver sat in his office drinking tea every day. Passing his door, you could hear peals of laughter from his phone chats.
Anyone who didn’t know better would think he’d already locked up first place in Autumn Auction performance.
And Oliver did indeed consider victory assured.
Jiang Siyi didn’t know what was good for her — she wouldn’t transfer to his Chinese Painting and Calligraphy Department until after the Autumn Auction — but no matter. With Huang Qingzheng’s two paintings, the department was set.
They’d trample the Oil Painting Department underfoot for sure.
A rival auction house and Bo Ting’s Oil Painting Department had been fighting over a certain master’s posthumous work — from last year into this one, still undecided. It looked set to go down to the final deadline before the Autumn Auction.
Bo Ting had been flying back and forth between J City and the West 5th District over it, on top of enormous pressure from rising juniors — visibly burnt out, a whole size thinner, and whether she could hold form for the Autumn Auction was anyone’s guess.
Oliver had also picked up a piece of gossip through the grapevine.
Bo Ting had been in a concealed marriage all along — to a woman, one who had been abusing her psychologically and physically for years. The marks made it to the office with her; there was no hiding them.
Her visible decline these past few years probably had everything to do with that. Keeping an unbeaten record for five years had already been a matter of sheer willpower.
Oliver basked, complacent and pleased.
A pity, really. This year there was no way she could hold on any longer.
Just as Oliver sat down to draft his first-place performance speech for this year’s year-end banquet1, CEO Gu came to demand answers: why had Xiao Duo’s 《Twelve Calligraphy Pieces》 been snatched away by a rival firm?
CEO Gu was furious, hands on his hips. “What is your department even doing? Do you still want a part in the Autumn Auction or not?”
Oliver shrugged. “It’s just Xiao Duo. Nowhere near Huang Qingzheng’s prices. Our department’s Autumn Auction finale is Huang Qingzheng, obviously — even if we grabbed the 《Twelve Calligraphy Pieces》 back, it’d be a throw-in, and a waste of time and effort besides. Why bother?”
CEO Gu was so exasperated he laughed outright, and said something Oliver never saw coming.
“What do Huang Qingzheng’s paintings have to do with your department?”
“What do you mean?” Only now did Oliver sense something badly off. “Don’t Huang Qingzheng’s paintings automatically go into our department’s inventory? Who else could auction them?”
CEO Gu sneered. “Think you’re clever, do you? She saw through your plan to freeload ages ago. Let me make this explicit: Huang Qingzheng named Jiang Siyi to auction her paintings. This year Jiang Siyi will have a personal star auction special — every lot she signs will be auctioned by her personally, running concurrent with the Autumn Auction, and it is our headline act this year. All commission splits from the personal auction go to her, credited to her individual performance. Not one red cent of it has anything to do with your department. Understand?”
Oliver shot up from his chair, mouth twitching.
“CEO Gu, you can’t joke with me like this — you’ll scare a man to death…”
He looked at CEO Gu’s expression and knew this was no joke.
“Then — then it’s too late for me to go court Xiao Duo now, or any consignment at all! CEO Gu, go put in a word for me. How can Huang Qingzheng’s paintings not count for our department?”
The nerve of him was truly something. CEO Gu patted his shoulder.
“President Yan is coming this year — you knew that, right? Our global CEO, the one who can’t tolerate a single grain of sand, says she’s coming to observe the Autumn Auction. ‘Observe.’ Really it’s an inspection. If she learns your department’s performance is a disaster, do you think she’ll dig into why? Do you think you’ll still be sitting in that seat?”
At President Yan’s name, a chill ran through Oliver from head to toe.
CEO Gu flicked his head. “A little over a week left. Get moving — what are you standing around for?”
Oliver cursed inwardly and bolted from the office.
Downstairs, the promotional boards for Jiang Siyi’s special were being wheeled in. Oliver’s eyelid twitched; a mouthful of bile with nowhere to spit.
The boards were carted all the way to the freight elevator.
The deliveryman and two Jiashibi employees waited for the lift together.
The employees were one tall, one short. The tall one gazed at the board and sighed:
“Teacher Xiao Jiang really is a wunderkind. Last time we held a personal star auction, it was still Deaf Sis— ahem, …Teacher Bo.”
The short one said, “Teacher Xiao Jiang has to rush between venues this Autumn Auction — after hosting the Gold, Stone, and Jade session, she’s got her own special.”
The tall one: “Huh? Isn’t she transferring to the Chinese Painting and Calligraphy Department? Why is she still handling Gold, Stone, and Jade?”
The short one grinned. “Who’d ever complain about too much money?”
The board was too big — it hid Bo Ting, standing at the staff elevator on the other side.
Bo Ting glanced sideways at the Jiang Siyi on the board.
Young. Beautiful. Eyes brimming with dashing, spirited vitality.
Bo Ting didn’t even notice she’d been staring.
Only when the board rolled into the elevator and the car doors slid slowly shut did she gather her gaze back.
She rode the elevator — not to her own Oil Painting Department.
She came to the Gold, Stone, and Jade Department.
Bo Ting looked in through the window.
Siyi was preparing for the second rehearsal of the Autumn Auction.
In her gloved hands was a green jade ruyi2 plaque. A mere lot with a 50,000 RMB opening bid, yet Siyi studied it intently, committing every detail about it to memory again and again, treasuring it like a precious gem.
A faint ripple crossed Bo Ting’s eyes.
She watched quietly for a while, then left without a sound.
Back in the Oil Painting Department, she pushed open her office door — and her steps stopped short.
A woman sat in her chair.
Oval face, big eyes, long hair loose over her shoulders. Gentle and shy in appearance, at least five years younger than Bo Ting.
“Wife.” The woman’s smile was beautiful and sweet. “I’ve been waiting for you for ages.”
Bo Ting glanced back; colleagues who had been sneaking looks toward the office instantly averted their eyes.
She shut the door.
“What are you doing here.”
The blinds closed fully.
Her hands were a little cold.
“You left without breakfast. I was worried about you.” She produced an exquisite lunch box. “Brought it for you.”
“Our company has a staff canteen.”
“That’s different.” She smiled tenderly, eyes curving into crescents. “With a wife at home whose cooking is this wonderful, how could you possibly eat food made by anyone else?”
For a moment, neither spoke.
She patted her own lap.
“Why are you standing so far away? Come here — I’ll feed you, and then I’ll go.”
Bo Ting still didn’t move.
After three seconds of silence, the woman’s smile slowly changed.
Her crescent eyes still brimmed with smiles — but it had turned into something else entirely, a skin-crawling grin that never reached the flesh.
She walked slowly toward Bo Ting and pinned her against the wall.
Bo Ting’s breath trembled faintly. She didn’t look at her.
Fingers slid in at the back of Bo Ting’s neck, threaded into her hair, closed all five — and yanked.
“Being this disobedient means the punishment will have to continue.”
……
At lunchtime, Siyi and Duan Ning went to eat together.
Wu Yilu tagged along too.
It had always been just the two of them; today there was one more.
Duan Ning explained: “Eating alone is just pitiful. Respect your elders, cherish your young ones — that’s the rule. So I said we’d bring her along.”
Siyi, of course, had no objection. Wu Yilu chuckled “heh heh”:
“Thank you ever so much for cherishing the young.”
Duan Ning: “Fine, then. Let’s hear you call me Jiejie.”
Wu Yilu was seven years older than Duan Ning — and when told to call her “Jiejie,” she called it, leaning coquettishly on her shoulder without a shred of psychological burden.
Duan Ning broke out in goosebumps head to toe, with a monumental “blegh” shudder.
Wu Yilu roared with laughter.
Siyi looked at Duan Ning, then at Manager Wu.
It was clearly autumn — so why was there a whiff of spring in the air?
While Duan Ning and Manager Wu carried on their antics, Bo Ting brushed past Siyi’s side.
Siyi’s attention followed. She paused a beat and offered a polite greeting:
“Teacher Bo.”
Bo Ting, as ever, didn’t answer.
The elevator came; Bo Ting vanished down the corridor.
Duan Ning shrugged. “Teacher Bo’s having another day of uncooperative ears.”
Siyi frowned.
Was it her imagination, or… was there a split, bleeding cut on Bo Ting’s lip? And her hair had an unnatural frizz to it.
Siling still hadn’t gone back to the West 5th District.
She and Glenda had been drifting together through the major domestic exhibitions, absorbing fresh, sharply individual artistic elements. They went out sketching, visited old mentors and friends; inspiration flooded in, and these past days the two of them had holed up in a hotel painting.
The West 5th District Jiashibi’s Autumn Auction came earlier.
Tonight, Siling’s painting would go to auction in the oil painting session.
The very one from her livestreamed burning — the half of her self-portrait that had survived the flames.
It had already toured the West 5th District’s major exhibitions to fevered response, trending from online to off, and for a stretch it had even become an internet-famous photo spot.
The most representative, most talked-about half-painting in the room: an opening bid of one million US dollars.
When Siyi and Lin Ji arrived at the hotel, Glenda had just finished setting up the TV casting for the auction livestream.
Siling was nervous the entire time. It was the first time one of her paintings had gone to auction — a major Autumn Auction at that. Not the finale lot, but an opening bid high enough that she couldn’t believe it.
She couldn’t watch. She hid her head behind Siyi’s shoulder.
“What if no one bids?! Ahhh, wouldn’t that be mortifying!”
Siyi held her hand. “It won’t happen. Honestly, I think the opening bid is too low.”
Siling: “Really? This is low? Now I feel like a fraud.”
Her older sister was this year’s most-watched emerging painter in West 5th District modern art; Siyi had paid particular attention while keeping up with industry news.
Siyi nodded with total certainty. “Trust my professional eye.”
Hearing her younger sister sound so sure, Siling’s dread turned to anticipation.
Lin Ji, seated on Siyi’s other side, tore her gaze away from her “exclusive shoulder” with visible difficulty.
Nothing for it — the woman was her biological older sister; a little leaning was perfectly natural.
The waist, however, was hers.
With Siling settled on Siyi’s shoulder at one end, Lin Ji’s arm circled soundlessly around from the other and closed around Siyi’s waist.
Claimed on both fronts, Siyi turned to Lin Ji in resignation.
Lin Ji didn’t so much as glance at her, watching the livestream like nothing was happening — as if the person quietly clinging weren’t her at all.
At the far end, Glenda watched Lin Ji’s maneuver, learned from it, and wrapped an arm around Siling’s waist.
The hug tickled Siling so badly she nearly leapt out of her seat.
She slapped the hand away. “Stop that.”
Glenda: …
The auction began.
Siling didn’t dare blink. Paddles kept rising, in the room and online.
One point one million, one point two million, one point three million…
The increments came briskly.
When someone called out two million outright, Siling’s breath caught.
And even then, people kept chasing.
Siyi calculated seriously. “A hammer price around four and a half million would be reasonable.”
Siling: “How muuuch?!”
Lin Ji picked up her phone. If her wife said four and a half million was reasonable, then they might as well round up to a reasonable whole number.
The final price: five million US dollars, even.
A new high for an emerging artist’s work in the West 5th District modern art market in two years.
All night, the West 5th District modern art world talked of nothing but Jiang Siling.
And at that very moment, the Jiang Siling in question, in a J City hotel, pinched her own cheek.
“What’s going on? That barely even hurt. Am I actually dreaming?”
Glenda: “Let me.”
She grabbed a fistful of Siling’s thigh, and Siling nearly hit the ceiling.
Siling, pinched to the point of tears, looked at Glenda in bewilderment.
Glenda beamed. “See, sweetheart? It really hurts, doesn’t it? Truly not a dream!”
Siling: …
Not a dream — but the pain was real.
The session’s finale was a work Glenda had painted last year.
Opening bid: fifteen million US dollars.
By domestic standards, top-tier blue-chip.
It hammered at thirty-one million, breaking this year’s West 5th District oil painting record.
Siyi and Lin Ji had brought a haul of food and drinks with them — perfect for celebrating now.
Out of professional habit, Siyi asked her sister and Glenda whether they’d like to test the domestic waters.
“You might just fetch even higher prices.”
Glenda still found it hard to express complicated things in Chinese, but she didn’t give up, delivering it half in English and half in halting Chinese:
“I have thought about it. Before, my agency talk with one Chinese auction house — not Jiashibi — but the ideas not so matching, so we stop. Following my sweetheart back this time, I have many new inspirations too. One painting almost finish, but aiya, these days my neck hurt so much — last little bit not done yet.”
Siling: “Perfect, then. Once you finish it, hand it to Baby to auction — she has her own special session now.”
Glenda: “Yes, yes! Steve will definitely agree too. Only the timing — I don’t know if it make it. Your Autumn Auction is very soon, yes?”
Steve was her agent.
Siling was about to say more when her younger sister tugged her hand.
Siyi said: “First we should find out why your neck hurts. Don’t let it drag on.”
Glenda rolled her neck, the pain nearly squeezing her eyes shut.
“Old problem, many years. Usually nothing at all — but the moment I paint, pain.”
Lin Ji, who had been reading Siyi’s micro-expressions all the while, knew what she actually wanted: to build a line to Glenda — even, perhaps, to ArtS.
A professional instinct bred into an auctioneer’s bones.
She was still working hard.
The joint account card had long been arranged — Siyi could draw freely on every yuan in Lin Ji’s accounts. As a return gift for the heirloom brooches, Lin Ji had granted her a stake of Huanwei shares.
Then the wedding gifts: the yacht and the estate from friends, the massive wedding gift money3 from business partners, antiques and fine jewelry, new-release electronics, VIP memberships at every major club… All of it in Jiang Siyi’s name.
Her name had been added to Courtyard No. 1 at Linyu Shuian as well.
Lin Xuebo had given her a dowry worth tens of millions; Kong Yuchen had established a trust in her name. Even the bank card from her sister Siling held over a million.
By any reasonable account, Siyi need never work this hard again.
Never mind this lifetime — she had enough for several lifetimes after it.
Yet she kept advancing at the same steady pace she’d started with.
No one knew better than Lin Ji how seriously she was taking this Autumn Auction.
And this way of living in earnest — no different from the woman she’d been at the very start.
Pure, steadfast, and utterly captivating.
Her wife’s shoulder was free at last; Lin Ji’s hand claimed it.
Lin Ji said: “The hospital my mom controls has a rehabilitation specialist who’s excellent with cervical spine treatment. I’ll ask right now whether they’re free tomorrow.”
Siling’s and Glenda’s eyes lit up.
Siling: “That’s wonderful! She’s been suffering for so long — treatments abroad never kept it away. I hope this time it can be cured for good.”
Lin Ji called Lin Xuebo; ten minutes later, Lin Xuebo called back.
Lin Ji: “It’s settled. I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow and take you over.”
Siling: “Huh? No need, surely. Xiao You, you’re so busy — just give us the address and we’ll go ourselves.”
Lin Ji’s arm, which had left Siyi for the call, settled back around her.
“We’re all family — no need for ceremony. Isn’t it far easier with me to lead the way?”
One look at her sister’s and Glenda’s faces said it all: they were more than willing, and they found Lin Ji utterly dependable.
That night, home again, they walked hand in hand from the garage to the back courtyard.
Above the darkened sky, a sweep of stars; below, a couple whose shadows never parted.
Siyi hooked her index finger around Lin Ji’s little finger, giving it a little sway now and then.
“How are you this cute?”
Lin Ji curled her finger and traced it gently across the back of Siyi’s hand.
They stepped through the front door together, and Xueqiu, the turtle plushie Siling had given him clamped in his mouth, came charging across the yard in one breath — dutifully, devotedly welcoming his owners home.
Lin Ji petted the little furball that had cured her fear of dogs entirely.
“Xueqiu’s a little beauty today too.”
Seeing that Lin Xuebo’s stock of treats for Xueqiu was still plentiful, Siyi picked up a box of meat jerky.
Xueqiu’s tail instantly went into a frenzy. He assumed treat-receiving position, the little turtle dropped and forgotten on the floor, and he waited with total devotion.
As she opened the lid, Siyi said to Lin Ji:
“Thank you. For being so good to my family, too.”
Lin Ji took off her coat and hung it on the entryway rack, smiling gently at her.
“We’re all one family. Why are you drawing lines with me?”
“Ah — right, I mean, you’re so busy, and my older sister and her girlfriend…”
“Siling is my sister too.”
The more Siyi explained, the more tangled it got. Lin Ji laughed, pulled her into her arms, and stopped teasing her, kissing her forehead:
“We’re married. We’re one — of course our strength pulls in the same direction. Everything you care about, everyone you care about, I will naturally hold in my heart. It is never a bother.”
What she hadn’t managed to say precisely, the worry threaded between her lines — Lin Ji understood all of it.
Warmth flooded Siyi’s chest. She threw her arms wide and wrapped them tight around Lin Ji’s waist.
On an autumn night, bundled up warm, she came in like one big fluffy bear hug.
Lin Ji gathered her beloved in, content, smiling with her eyes closed.
Pressed against Lin Ji’s chest, listening to her heartbeat, Siyi said:
“Your heart is beating so fast.”
“Mm… when you’re being held by someone you love very, very much, this is just how hopeless your heart gets.”
Now it was Siyi’s heart’s turn to be hopeless.
Through the thin veil of skin and flesh, each could feel the other’s heartbeat. Siyi said:
“I just… want to find out how far I can go on my own ability.”
She meant, of course, continuing down the auctioneer’s road — her own career.
Lin Ji herself and her parents alike had been unstinting with her. Between them, the equity, collections, and funds settled on her after the marriage had already made her a small tycoon.
All the commissions from this Autumn Auction, at the very outside, probably wouldn’t buy a single piece of the fine jewelry Lin Xuebo had given her.
Lin Ji gave her rare devotion and tenderness — and at the same time, she still wanted a career that belonged to her.
Even if, beside the wealth she already possessed, that career looked negligible. Like busywork for nothing.
She knew Lin Ji would never look down on her for it. It was her own occasional guilt — the fear of failing Lin Ji’s kindness.
Lin Ji stroked the back of her head. “If you want to know where your career ceiling is, then go fight for it.”
Siyi lifted her head from her arms.
Lin Ji: “Just like the second-floor space — plan it however you like. Take it seriously or just play, either way, go and try. Life is short. I won’t restrict you in anything, and I would never oppose any decision you make. I only hope my darling plays to her heart’s content in this playground of the human world.”
Words of utmost tenderness struck Siyi’s heart in a single breath.
Lin Ji never judged her.
Never told her what she ought to do, what she ought to be, what kind of person she ought to become.
Lin Ji had always let her be only herself.
And it was this truest version of her that she loved.
Arms already tight around her drew tighter still.
How could anyone be this good?
And this good person was hers.
Like a headstrong little deer, Siyi butted softly into her arms.
Lin Ji breathed in the scent she loved best, warmth rising through her.
She tipped up her face and kissed her, helpless to do otherwise.
The kiss deepened, lingering — neither willing to let go.
Only when Lin Ji’s phone began buzzing did they break apart, far from satisfied.
Lin Ji went to take the call. Siyi’s eyes followed her for a good long while before she realized she was still holding the box of meat jerky.
Oh no — she’d forgotten, forgotten.
“Xueqiu?”
She looked around and found Xueqiu already flopped at a distance, forepaws folded before his chest, half-sprawled on the floor, eyeing her sideways.
The poop scooper had opened the treats first and not fed the dog — hadn’t she?
He’d circled and circled again, watching his most beloved little snacks sit there, unreachable.
How could anyone not feed a dog as good as him?
Siyi went over and ruffled his head.
“Sorry, sorry. I forgot.”
Xueqiu was deeply, deeply wronged.
Humans! How could they do this to a dog?!
The author has something to say:
Lin Ji: Wife-pampering Step 40 — forever supporting my wife in becoming whoever she wants to be
Footnotes
- 尾牙 | weiya | Literally 'tail tooth' — the year-end banquet Chinese companies throw for their staff, rooted in Fujian and Taiwan folk ritual. Performance rankings and bonuses are announced there, making the top performer's victory speech a coveted slot that Oliver is drafting well in advance.
- 如意 | ruyi | Literally 'as you wish' — a traditional Chinese scepter with a cloud-shaped head, an auspicious emblem of granted wishes; plaques carved in jade after its form were prized Qing-dynasty collector's pieces and remain staples of Chinese auction catalogs.
- 份子钱 | fenziqian | Literally 'share money' — customary cash gifts in red envelopes presented by guests at Chinese weddings, traditionally scaled to closeness with the couple and meant to offset banquet costs; at society weddings, corporate partners often give sums running into the millions.
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