[Gold Powder GL] True Elegance Comes with Knowledge - Chapter 30

That kiss—barely a brush like a dragonfly skimming the water—left Yan Hui utterly stunned.

She wanted to speak, but it felt like a cat had stolen her tongue. All she could do was stare wide-eyed at the person before her, unable to react.

The sensation on her lips had already vanished, yet somehow, it also felt like it had been permanently imprinted. Yan Hui felt like a hundred voices were shouting in her mind, all at once, yet she couldn’t make out a single word.

After a moment of silence, it was Qingqiu who finally broke it.

“I’m not drunk. And I’m not confused either,” she said calmly. “I just thought… if I didn’t do this, would you ever realize that these are the feelings I have for you?”

In that instant, Qingqiu couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of liberation.

Yan Hui—always poised, composed, and unflappable no matter the situation—was now sitting there, dumbfounded and speechless. It was such an unexpectedly adorable sight that Qingqiu found herself laughing.
“You…” Yan Hui’s voice returned at the sound of Qingqiu’s laughter. She carefully picked her words. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“Would you joke about something like this?” Qingqiu replied with a question of her own.

Yan Hui took a deep breath, finally beginning to grasp what had just happened. She hurriedly moved off of Qingqiu and returned to her side of the bed. But even lying beside her now felt awkward and stiff after what had just occurred.

Then she heard Qingqiu continue, “I was planning on never saying anything. You said you wouldn’t ever get married, that there wouldn’t be anyone more important than me in your life. I thought, fine, we’ll just stay like this, as companions, forever. That wouldn’t be so bad.”

Then why confess now? Yan Hui couldn’t help but wonder.

And then she remembered—it was she herself who had kept pushing, asking Qingqiu to speak up if she ever felt dissatisfied or unhappy in any way. After all, they were “best friends.”
Yan Hui: “…”

So, this is what it feels like to dig your own grave.

Qingqiu kept talking. “But human emotions… they’re so narrow. I’m not as generous as I thought. When I see you laughing and talking with others, I can’t help but feel sad… or jealous. If I didn’t say anything, I was afraid I’d lose my mind one day and do something I couldn’t take back.”

“These are just my own feelings. You don’t need to respond, or even acknowledge them. If you can still treat me as a friend, that’s more than enough.”

“That’s all I wanted to say.”

Yan Hui rubbed her face in frustration. After everything that had been said, how could she possibly pretend nothing had happened and go back to being just friends? And if Qingqiu’s confession had come out because of jealousy, how could she simply retreat back to friendship now?

But to end their friendship over this? That felt excessive.

Still, she had never imagined that Qingqiu harbored these feelings for her, and she had absolutely no idea how to handle it. Despite being older, more experienced, and seemingly confident in so many areas, the truth was—she had never been in love. She had no frame of reference for any of this.

“You…” she began, thoughts in her mind swirling in chaos. In the end, the only thing she could think to ask was the simplest of questions: “What is it that you like about me?”

She was genuinely puzzled. Qingqiu, however, didn’t understand why she would even ask.

“Anyone who knows you, who truly understands you—how could they not love you?” she said as if it were obvious. “Your vision, your composure, your determination and courage… those are rare qualities. Isn’t that more than enough to be admired?”

Strangely, Yan Hui felt a twinge of guilt at hearing that. Maybe even fear.

Her so-called foresight, her experience, her calm confidence—all of that, truthfully, was cheating. Even her unshakable resolve came from standing on the shoulders of giants, already knowing how things would turn out.

If someone loved her because of those things… weren’t they just falling for a false image? Strip all that away, and the real Jin Ya Hui was just an ordinary girl.

But of course, she couldn’t explain any of that.

Still, realizing this helped her calm down.

Just as she was about to speak again, Qingqiu added, “But my love for you isn’t just because of those things. It’s because you are Jin Yan Hui—the person who’s been there for me time and again, who’s supported me when I needed it most. Without you, I can’t even imagine what kind of person I’d be today.”

Still with Jin Yanxi, maybe? What kind of life would she be living then? Who would she have become?

Before she met Yan Hui, she had believed the Jin family was the best future she could hope for, and Jin Yanxi was a man worthy of her trust. But looking back now, she could only feel a mix of dread and relief—thank goodness she had walked away when she did. Otherwise, she might have been dragged down, too.

Qingqiu’s words were heartfelt and sincere, and despite herself, Yan Hui felt a flicker of joy.

She had never helped Qingqiu expecting anything in return—she’d only wanted to right a regret of her own. But knowing that Qingqiu had noticed and remembered everything still made her happy. And maybe… just maybe, it meant that beyond the advantage of her knowledge and foresight, she had her own worth too?

That feeling was hard to describe.

After all, the one complimenting her was Leng Qingqiu.

As she secretly basked in the praise, Yan Hui suddenly snapped back to reality—Qingqiu was still in the middle of a confession. And so, she fell into another wave of inner conflict.

How could she turn her down without hurting her?

She thought long and hard before saying, “It’s normal to feel grateful to someone who’s helped you. But Qingqiu, have you considered that maybe what you’re feeling isn’t romantic love? Maybe you’re just… confused?”

“You mean to say I can’t tell the difference between gratitude and love?” Qingqiu sat up, clearly annoyed.

“That’s not what I meant,” Yan Hui quickly explained. “Just that… we’re still young. Maybe we can look at this again in a few years. Maybe by then, you’ll realize that my vision and composure aren’t anything special—because you’ll have them too.”

“If that’s just an excuse to reject me, I can’t accept it,” Qingqiu shot back. “Sure, maybe in a few years, after studying and learning more, I’ll think my current self was narrow-minded and naive. But do you think you’ll just stay the same? You’ll grow too—and there will always be parts of you that I can’t match.”

Yan Hui was momentarily speechless.

She couldn’t say she’d stay exactly the same—but she wouldn’t stand still either.

“I think I understand what you’re trying to say,” Qingqiu continued. “You believe that your knowledge and calmness come from external things, so they’re not really yours. Is that it?”
Yan Hui nodded.

Qingqiu smiled. “That’s not entirely wrong. But I don’t agree. Think about a rich young man, who studies abroad thanks to his family’s support, comes back with a good education, and builds a successful business with the help of his connections. Would you say all his achievements belong to his family and his education? Even if they played a role, they’re part of who he is—why separate them?”

“But…” Yan Hui still felt it wasn’t the same.

Qingqiu cut her off. “As long as what you have wasn’t stolen or taken by force, and your conscience is clear, then it’s yours. When I look at you, I naturally see those things. It’s like complimenting someone’s outfit—just because I say you look good in new clothes, does that mean it has nothing to do with you as a person?”

Then she leaned in slightly, looking into Yan Hui’s eyes, and added with a teasing smile, “If you insist, I could always say you look good without any clothes on too.”

“!” Yan Hui was so startled she nearly jumped out of bed.

She instinctively pulled the blanket tighter around her, gaining a bit of comfort before she could return to thinking about Qingqiu’s words.

She couldn’t deny that Qingqiu’s reasoning made sense. A person is a social being—defined not just by their essence, but also by how others perceive them in context. No one could be judged in complete isolation from their circumstances.

Still, despite all that, Yan Hui couldn’t bring herself to accept it completely.

Maybe, deep down, it was because she didn’t feel worthy. Leng Qingqiu, the heroine of a famous novel—young, beautiful, passionate, honest, talented, radiant—how could someone like that fall for her?

Overwhelmed by such affection, all she could do was diminish herself in an effort to stay grounded.

“Alright,” Qingqiu said, as if she hadn’t just shattered Yan Hui’s peace of mind, “You’re right—we don’t need to rush into this. Let’s think about it again in a few years. Until then, we can stay friends.”

As if it were that easy to go back to being just friends after everything?!

Yan Hui didn’t trust Qingqiu. Worse yet—she didn’t trust herself.