Unbearable - Chapter 19
Chapter 19: If I Accompanied You, Would You Join?
The next day was the weekend again. Yu Wei finally got a chance to sleep in for once. She reached for her phone and opened WeChat. Her last chat with Yu Wei had stopped at a message Yu Wei had sent from Yulin yesterday at noon:
“Where are you?”
She hadn’t replied at the time—she was standing right in front of Yu Wei.
She locked and unlocked her phone repeatedly, switching in and out of WeChat.
…: Morning.
The moment she sent it, she immediately turned off the screen, stuffed the phone under her pillow, tossed the blanket aside, and ran to wash up.
Just as her phone started buzzing, she darted out with a towel in hand. As she reached the bed, she realized she might have overreacted a bit, paused for two seconds, then fished out the buzzing phone.
It was Cheng Miao.
Yu Wei felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of disappointment.
“Girl! I’m almost at your place!”
Yu Wei’s heart skipped a beat. Then she remembered no one else was home, so she let out a breath of relief. “Yu Wei’s not here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Can’t I be coming just for you?” Cheng Miao huffed. “Don’t forget, we said we’d play games at my place today. I’m here to pick you up—and maybe test my luck, hehe.”
If they didn’t run into anyone, oh well. They’d still see each other at school tomorrow.
Only then did Yu Wei remember. After hanging up, she noticed the WeChat notification at the top of the screen.
Yu Wei: Morning
Yu Wei: Not going back for lunch
She hadn’t gone back last week either. Yu Wei stared at those words, reading them over and over again.
Once she finished getting ready and stepped outside, she ran right into Cheng Miao, who was getting out of a taxi. The same taxi took the two of them straight back to Cheng Miao’s place.
Cheng Miao lived downtown. As soon as they got in the elevator, she gave her a clear rundown:
“Do your homework first. Once you finish, I’ll copy it. Then we can play games. I told my mom you were coming, so she went grocery shopping. We’ll have lunch at my place, play more games in the afternoon, and go shopping in the evening. I’ll take you home after. O-K?”
She stared at Yu Wei with her big round eyes, all plans perfectly laid out.
Cheng Miao’s mom was a full-time homemaker. The house was spotless—gleaming golden floors and embossed glass walls that caught the sunlight from the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Even without the huge chandelier turned on, the light reflected in rainbow streaks everywhere.
Every time Yu Wei came here, she felt awestruck.
In the study, there was a whole set of heavy redwood furniture. Yu Wei sat on the chair with her legs dangling, swaying slightly.
Cheng Miao smoothly pulled out a footstool from under the desk and placed it under Yu Wei’s feet. “You write first. I’m gonna play for a bit.”
She curled up in the chair across from her, phone in hand, legs folded up.
Yu Wei was used to it. She set her phone aside and began working on her weekend homework.
Not long after, Cheng Miao’s mom returned with a giant fruit platter. She glanced at the test paper in front of Cheng Miao, which only had a few multiple-choice answers scribbled and not even any scratch paper. “You just scribbled a few answers. The paper’s cleaner than your face—quit pretending.”
Cheng Miao grinned obsequiously. “Oh wise and mighty Queen Mother!”
Her mom couldn’t help but pinch her cheek. “Cheeky brat!”
Yu Wei sat across the table, pausing her writing and quietly watching them.
“What do you want to eat for lunch, Xiao Wei? Auntie will make it.”
Yu Wei had barely started shaking her head when Cheng Miao jumped in. “Braised pork, soy-braised pork knuckles, boiled spicy pork, buttered prawns…”
Her mom grabbed her ear. “Wow, listing only your favorites. Didn’t even mention any of the sweet and sour dishes Xiao Wei likes!”
“You knew them anyway.” Cheng Miao rescued her ear and rubbed it furiously.
Auntie smiled at Yu Wei. “Go ahead and have fun, girls.”
Then she gave Cheng Miao’s neck a playful twist and muttered, “Do your homework!”
After she left, Cheng Miao shivered dramatically. “Ugh, women.”
Someone coughed outside.
Cheng Miao shrank her neck. “Playing your little princess like a puppet!”
Yu Wei couldn’t hold back her laughter.
Cheng Miao jumped up and circled the table to shake her shoulders.
The phone on the desk buzzed twice and the screen lit up.
Yu Wei: [Photo]
Cheng Miao stopped shaking her and squinted at the phone screen, then looked at Yu Wei, her eyes sparkling.
Yu Wei awkwardly cleared her throat.
“Ohhh~ can’t let an outsider like me see now? Okay okay okay, I won’t look~ boohoohoo~~” Cheng Miao dramatically pinched her throat, eyes darting everywhere. “Our little Weiwei’s all grown up now… keeping secrets…”
Yu Wei pursed her lips and opened the phone.
The WeChat chat with Yu Wei opened right up.
It was a photo.
A giant bouquet of hydrangeas—red, blue, and pink, all blooming together in a cluster.
Yu Wei, who had been quietly admiring it a second ago, suddenly felt a rush of indescribable emotion swell in her chest. She instantly turned off the screen, not wanting anyone else to see.
“This is what you call ‘we’re not that close’?”
Cheng Miao leaned against the desk. “Spill it. Confess and you’ll get leniency. Resist and you’ll face the consequences.”
Yu Wei looked down, staring at her own reflection on the screen. “We’ve… gotten a little closer.”
Just a little. It felt like the awkward tension between them had eased. Hard to explain.
“A little?”
Yu Wei hesitated, then nodded.
“From my years of observation,” Cheng Miao said seriously, “Fish is seriously emotionally detached—I mean cold as hell. Never shows any interest in anything or anyone.”
Yu Wei bit her lip. “Really?”
Cheng Miao nodded solemnly. “So where the heck did she get those flowers? And she likes those kinds of flowers? That’s news to me.”
Yu Wei: “…”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
…
In the courtyard, the midday sun was weak. Yu Wei had just returned from her dance class and was standing at her desk, staring at her screen.
The chat still only had that one photo she’d sent. The bouquet had been moved from an old mug to a glass vase.
She typed:
“Want me to bring them back for you?”
Then didn’t send it. A few seconds later, she deleted it.
At lunch, she opened the chat again. Yu Wei’s profile picture had changed—it was now the bouquet of hydrangeas, completely filling the frame. The kind of photo older women in their 40s or 50s would use.
Yu Wei stared at it for a long time.
…
The co-op game Cheng Miao had found only took a few hours to beat. Yu Wei stood up to stretch, but as soon as she walked a few steps, Cheng Miao grabbed her again and dragged her out.
By the afternoon, the weather turned gloomy. The light wasn’t harsh, but the air was stuffy.
“There’s a new skating rink nearby. Not crowded. I’ll teach you how to skate,” Cheng Miao suggested. “That way when the school rink opens in winter, you can go straight in and have fun.”
She had brought up teaching Yu Wei before, but Yu Wei always refused.
This time, though, after just a moment of hesitation, Yu Wei agreed.
Cheng Miao was thrilled. She pulled her to swipe their cards and rent skates. “These are rentals, not as comfy as personal ones, but hey—we’re just learning for now.”
Yu Wei nodded and peeked into the rink.
This rink was different from the one at her house. It was separated from the shoe-change area by only a waist-high wall topped with clear glass, enclosing the whole rink.
There weren’t many people inside, mostly teens gliding in formation.
Yu Wei was about to look away when her eyes scanned the edge of the rink and paused.
A kid was crying. Someone squatted beside her, wiping her tears and saying something gently. Then stood and led her back to the group.
The way she moved, the outfit—Yu Wei recognized it instantly.
The person skated to the far end, turned around—Yu Wei saw Yu Wei’s face.
She squatted down on the spot.
“What’s wrong?” Cheng Miao had just put one skate on and crouched beside her. “Where does it hurt?”
Yu Wei clutched her pinky and mumbled, “…I think my period’s coming, so…”
“Right now?” Cheng Miao’s eyes widened.
“Not yet.”
Yu Wei bit her lip.
Cheng Miao stood up and started taking off her skates, heading toward the benches. When she looked up, she saw Yu Wei standing on the ice, waving at the kids.
“Holy crap, Fish!”
Yu Wei: “…”
She had no choice but to straighten up.
Cheng Miao’s voice wasn’t quiet—people nearby all looked over. She waved wildly at the rink like a possessed windshield wiper.
Not far away, Yu Wei’s gaze shifted toward them, brushing past Yu Wei.
“My lucky star! I can’t believe I ran into her!” Cheng Miao gave Yu Wei a huge bear hug.
She was already tall, and with one skate on, even when slightly bent, Yu Wei’s eyes only peeked out over her shoulder.
Her glasses were askew, and her vision blurry, she could only make out Yu Wei’s figure, standing still for a long time.
When Cheng Miao let go, she fixed her glasses and looked up again—Yu Wei had turned her back to them and was skating off with the kids.
It was… awkward.
Yu Wei rubbed her nose.
She had made up the whole period excuse just to avoid Yu Wei—yet still ran into her.
Once Cheng Miao had changed into skates, she rushed onto the ice but pulled back halfway upon seeing Yu Wei was teaching kids. She retreated to the edge and pulled out her phone to take pictures.
Soon, the kids took a break.
Just as Cheng Miao was about to skate over, Yu Wei began heading their way.
“Ahhh she’s coming!” Cheng Miao pressed against the entrance and whispered excitedly to Yu Wei.
When she arrived, she went quiet.
“What are you doing here?” Yu Wei looked at Yu Wei.
Cheng Miao looked between them.
“Chengzi said she’d teach me to skate. But… I’m not feeling well today,” Yu Wei said softly.
“You’re a coach here?” Cheng Miao asked. “Your name’s not on the schedule.”
Yu Wei nodded, her gaze shifting away from Yu Wei. “I don’t come often. The schedule’s outdated.”
So not a new arrival—just infrequent.
Yu Wei lowered her eyes.
“No wonder—we’ve never seen you here on Sundays before. Would’ve run into you long ago, geez!” Cheng Miao slapped her thigh in regret.
Yu Wei responded with another nod, her gaze sweeping past Yu Wei and lingering for a few seconds.
Yu Wei averted her gaze under Gu Wei’s look, hurriedly scanning the children on the ice.
Gu Wei pursed her lips and skated off to clap her hands, signaling the children to gather.
“I believe it now. You two really aren’t close,” Cheng Miao muttered under her breath. “You don’t talk at all—I’ve been carrying the whole conversation by myself.”
Yu Wei remained silent, eyes fixed on Gu Wei high-fiving each child on the ice.
Since Gu Wei had to look after the kids, Cheng Miao only watched for a bit before saying goodbye and heading off to change out of her skates, leaving with Yu Wei.
“You’re not skating anymore?” Yu Wei asked, a hint of regret in her voice.
“Nope. I said I’d teach you, skating by myself isn’t fun, and these rental skates are uncomfortable.” Cheng Miao led her into a milk tea shop diagonally across the street. “I usually come here after school. It’s almost always empty. Didn’t think I’d run into Xiaoyu today.”
Yu Wei paused for a second, then took the warm milk tea from the server.
“You didn’t know Yu Wei was coaching?”
Cheng Miao shook her head and wiped the condensation off her cup. “No, but I’m not surprised.”
Yu Wei looked at her in confusion.
“Money,” Cheng Miao said plainly. “You have no idea how expensive figure skating is. Ice training needs rink time. She’s not in a club anymore, doesn’t have a coach, and still has to attend school. Her team’s training must be hard to keep up with, so she has to supplement it herself. Off-ice training means going to the gym, plus dance and posture training, and if there’s a physical issue, she’ll need rehab too. All of that costs money.”
Yu Wei was short on money?
Impossible. Even without mentioning Yu Jingcheng, Ding Qing would never let her lack anything—unless…
“Honestly, a lot of the toxicity in this field stems from money,” Cheng Miao continued. “It requires a huge investment and has very little return. Some parents just want results no matter what because they’ve spent so much. They’re super harsh on their kids—if not yelling, then hitting. It pisses me off. That’s why I avoid the rink on Sundays.”
Yu Wei’s grip on her cup tightened. “Is that common?”
“All the time. Luckily, I only do it for fun, and my mom couldn’t care less about it.”
“What about Yu Wei?” Yu Wei asked in a low voice. “Was she like that when she was little too?”
Though a seasoned “mom-fan,” even Cheng Miao hesitated before answering.
“There used to be rumors that she was like a puppet controlled by her mom. People claimed they saw her being scolded or hit at the rink. Some said her mom fed her every bite, that she couldn’t lift a finger or open her mouth without permission. But there were no photos—just gossip. Still, it caused a mess on her account.”
“And then she deleted her account,” Yu Wei said, holding her breath.
“You think it ended there?” Cheng Miao rolled her eyes. “People just scolded her more, called her fragile, overly sensitive, said she got a gold medal and started acting all stuck-up. After she deleted her account, she basically disappeared from the public eye except for competitions. And since last year, she hasn’t competed at all. No updates. Only occasional fan sightings.”
It matched what Yu Wei had seen online—no one seemed to know that Yu Wei had been in a car accident last year, one that took the life of her only remaining family member.
That evening, when Yu Wei returned home, the apartment was pitch dark. Neither Ding Qing nor Yu Wei had come back.
The next morning, just like last Monday, Yu Wei returned from her morning run, took a shower, and leaned against the doorway waiting for Yu Wei. They walked to school together before parting ways. Yu Wei went ahead while Yu Wei trailed behind at a distance.
They barely spoke at school. That morning, as Yu Wei passed by the back of the classroom, she caught a glimpse of Yu Wei frowning at a difficult final question. Yu Wei quickly scribbled a detailed solution on a piece of paper and casually dropped it on Yu Wei’s desk while pretending to walk by.
Yu Wei picked it up, read it, and slipped it into her book.
At lunch, food was delivered by someone Ding Qing had arranged. They picked it up together and left through the west gate, cutting through a quiet alley to reach Yu Wei’s house.
As soon as they entered, Yu Wei looked up. “The AC’s fixed?”
“Yeah.”
Yu Wei set the lunchboxes on the table, picked up the vase with the hydrangeas, then set it back down. The glass clinked softly against the table.
Yu Wei heard the sound and leaned over to touch the petals. “You changed the vase? It looks so pretty.”
They were both standing at the desk, very close to each other. Yu Wei’s rolled-up sleeves brushed against Yu Wei’s arm through the school uniform jacket—it tickled a little.
Yu Wei leaned back instinctively.
Yu Wei said, “Feel free to touch it.”
“What?”
“The flowers.” Yu Wei reached out and ruffled the large hydrangea blooms with both hands. “Touch them all you want.”
The blossoms swayed gently under her hands.
Yu Wei stared, surprised. She lifted her hand hesitantly, her palm lightly brushing across the petals with an awkward gentleness.
Just like the time she had brushed against Yu Wei’s back.
Yu Wei’s shoulders tensed. She suddenly turned and walked out. “You can’t have mung bean soup for lunch—just pancakes and pickles.”
“Why can’t I have it?” Yu Wei blinked.
Yu Wei pursed her lips, paused a few seconds, and said, “Aren’t you… not feeling well?”
“Not…?” Yu Wei suddenly remembered. Her face burned. “No… That’s not the kind of ‘not convenient’ I meant.”
She muttered, “I can drink it.”
What else could “not convenient” mean?
Yu Wei glanced back and checked her carefully—was she hurt?
Yu Wei’s ears and cheeks were bright red. She almost wanted to run away. “It was a misunderstanding. Just a misunderstanding.”
She was practically steaming.
Yu Wei gave a quiet “Oh,” pulled the door open, and the bead curtain jingled noisily. “If you want to learn to skate, come tonight. I’ll teach you.”
She was already gone. Only the beaded curtain remained, chiming softly.
The mung bean soup had simmered all morning and was chilled in the fridge. It was sweet, soft, and refreshing.
After Yu Wei finished her bowl, Yu Wei took it straight to the kitchen.
Yu Wei opened her mouth. “Hey—”
“Don’t worry, there’s plenty,” Grandma said, waving a giant palm-leaf fan. “I knew you were coming. I made half a pot.”
Yu Wei flushed and adjusted her glasses. After a pause, she asked, “You knew I was coming?”
“Of course,” Grandma nodded. “Weiwei called me this morning.”
Yu Wei looked up, stunned, watching Yu Wei carry more soup out of the kitchen. Grandma added, “I’ll make sour plum juice for you girls tomorrow. You need something cooling in the summer.”
Yu Wei’s lips twitched as she set the bowl in front of Yu Wei and sat down beside her.
The little table wasn’t tall enough, so she had to sit sideways and stretch her legs out.
Grandma gave her a light smack on the leg with the fan. “If you’re not happy about it, don’t drink it.”
“I am happy,” Yu Wei replied.
Grandma gave her a look. “I’ll make you something that’s not sweet or sour—just boiled water with a sprinkle of osmanthus.”
“Then I’ll take the boiled water. Save the osmanthus,” Yu Wei replied, dodging just in time to avoid another smack, but still caught the edge.
Yu Wei quietly smiled into her bowl of sweet mung bean soup, catching a glimpse of Yu Wei’s clear soup in her peripheral vision.
On the table was a plate of pancakes—crisp on the outside, soft in the middle—served with a small dish of pickled cucumbers.
A warm breeze blew in. The treetops above rustled, sunlight streaming through the gaps in dappled golden flecks.
Yu Wei was stuffed.
“It’s sweltering at noon,” Grandma said, still fanning herself. “Take a nap before heading back to school. It’s not far—just a few steps away.”
“No,” Yu Wei replied.
“Mhm,” Yu Wei said at the same time.
Yu Wei’s mouth was still open in surprise. She turned to stare at Yu Wei in shock.
Yu Wei’s face was expressionless, like she hadn’t said anything at all. Yu Wei wasn’t sure whether to insist on leaving or pretend she hadn’t heard, so she just pressed her lips together and accepted it in silence.
Yu Wei got up to wash the dishes.
Yu Wei held her phone and walked in slow circles around the tree in the yard.
She was fine while standing still, but once she moved, her forehead and the back of her neck quickly turned hot and damp.
“That’s just an ordinary elm tree,” Yu Wei’s voice came from the kitchen as she stepped out, walking along the eaves until she stood by her bedroom door. “There’s no Earth God living in it, and circling it won’t teleport you to Tsinghua Garden.”
Yu Wei froze for a moment, then realized she was joking.
She glanced up at the roof and mumbled, “I didn’t spin left three times and right three times.”
Her voice was too soft, and Yu Wei couldn’t hear clearly—she only saw her lips move.
“Come here.”
Yu Wei put her phone away, hesitated a bit, then slowly walked over.
Yu Wei pushed open the door and lifted the curtain, stepping aside to let her in.
Her eyelids hung low, long lashes hiding her gaze. She tilted her head slightly, eyes glancing up faintly.
Yu Wei’s heart skipped a beat. She ducked her head and squeezed past the doorway, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.
The air conditioning chilled the small room, and the contrast from outside made every pore on her skin shiver.
The room really wasn’t big, and there was only one bed—not even a wide one.
…How were they supposed to sleep?
“I’m not tired,” Yu Wei muttered, lips pursed.
Yu Wei didn’t respond. She sat down at the desk, spreading out her books and notes. “The bed’s over there. I’ll read.”
Maybe because she didn’t often come back, there wasn’t much furniture. Yu Wei glanced around—based on height and function, the only places to sit were the bed and the chair. Yu Wei had already taken the chair.
That left only the bed.
Yu Wei: “…”
She bit her lip.
And stood there.
For ten minutes.
After ten minutes, she was both awkward and her legs were numb.
Yu Wei was focused on her book. Just as she tilted her neck slightly and raised her hand to take off her earphones, a shadow slipped into the corner of her eye.
Yu Wei quietly sat down at the foot of the bed, head lowered, her ears quickly flushing red.
Aaaaaaahhhh!
Yu Wei shut her eyes and screamed internally, covering her face in her mind.
She’d missed her chance to grab a chair from the yard. The moment Yu Wei looked like she might turn around, her brain blanked, and her body had already sat down by itself.
Yu Wei curled her toes, pulled out her phone, and resumed browsing her unfinished shopping cart, pretending nothing had happened.
She’d just added a whole bunch of things—from refrigerators and TVs to health products for the elderly. She really had no idea what to get for Grandma. Since Yu Wei was still working as a coach to make money, Yu Wei had added a bunch of daily household items to the cart. She chose local delivery, which could arrive by tomorrow at the latest.
“You don’t need to buy anything for Grandma. She won’t accept it.”
Yu Wei’s voice came calmly.
Yu Wei was so startled, she accidentally blurted out, “How did you know?!”
Did she say it out loud while picking the items?
Yu Wei’s hand paused. She didn’t move but glanced behind her—nothing visible.
She flicked her pen against the hydrangea flower.
“You’re my rich sponsor,” she said casually, the tip of her pen scratching faintly across the paper. “Just the fact that you came here and had a bowl of mung bean soup made the old lady so happy she probably won’t sleep all night.”
“But I’m not,” Yu Wei muttered dryly, licking her lips.
Yu Wei let out a neutral “Mm,” turned to look at her, and said, “If she knew our actual relationship, she definitely wouldn’t accept anything.”
Yu Wei frowned. “But…”
She looked at Yu Wei’s furrowed brows. “Do you think it’s better to just tell her the truth?”
Yu Wei hesitated. After all, she was the cuckoo in the nest—an imposter. Now she was pretending to be someone from a wealthy sponsor’s family, someone who had done Yu Wei a favor.
“That’s fine too,” Yu Wei replied, nodding expressionlessly. “Tell her the girl she always thought of as her granddaughter is actually a rich heiress with a real family out there. Then the old lady will cry tears of joy and send us both packing, so she can go rejoin her long-lost kin and live a happy life, even if it means growing old alone.”
…Huh?
Yu Wei stared at her, stunned.
Yu Wei put down her pen, got up, and the chair scraped noisily against the floor as she turned to walk out.
“Don’t!” Yu Wei quickly grabbed the edge of her jacket.
The white school uniform jacket was pulled back slightly, its hem clutched in Yu Wei’s hand. She looked up at Yu Wei, then lowered her head again, troubled. “Let’s not tell her for now.”
Yu Wei lowered her eyes to look at her, lips twitching faintly. “Okay.” She paused for a few seconds and added, “If you really want to buy something, get an old-style media player and download some dramas.”
Yu Wei’s eyes lit up.
She could probably find one online. If not, she could ask Cheng Miao—she had a collection of retro game consoles, maybe she had one too.
As she thought about it, her thumb instinctively fiddled with the zipper pull, which jingled softly.
After a few jingles, she suddenly stopped, curling her hands over her knees, and mumbled a thank-you.
“No need to thank me,” Yu Wei said, sitting back down. “Sleep. I didn’t bring you here to treat it like a jail sentence. No need to change clothes—I don’t even sleep here normally.”
Her tone was flat and natural.
Yu Wei turned to look at her. The pen scratched softly on the paper. The sleeves stacked at Yu Wei’s elbows shifted slightly as she wrote.
The small fan that had once sat on the desk was gone, replaced by a vase of hydrangeas.
There was no distinct scent in the air, nor any noise. Every item in the compact room was neatly arranged, creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.
Yu Wei flipped through her shopping app, bought a senior-friendly media player and memory card, then lay down at the end of the bed. Drowsiness quickly crept in.
When she opened her eyes again, she blinked blankly and suddenly sat up.
Her shoes had been taken off, and she was tucked under a blanket.
Yu Wei: “…”
She had never slept that soundly before.
“Grandma came by,” Yu Wei said.
Yu Wei let out a breath and looked up to see Yu Wei at the desk, packing her books into her bag. She quickly threw off the blanket, folded it neatly, ran out to the yard to wash her face, and put her glasses back on.
The whole experience felt surreal.
It was her first time falling asleep outside her own home or the school dorm—right in Gu Wei’s room.
Maybe that meant she and Yu Wei really were growing closer. At least friends, maybe even someday… the kind of unconventional sisters she used to imagine.
She had always dreamed of having a little sister—someone to cuddle with during thunderstorms, someone to join them at the dinner table, someone to whisper secrets to in the dark at bedtime.
Whatever her sister wanted, she’d give her.
Now, she didn’t have a sister—but having a big sister felt pretty good too.
Yu Wei bit the end of her pen in a daze. Just then, Wen Xiang entered through the back door.
“The school’s anniversary celebration is coming up,” she announced. “Grade 12 students are under pressure, and Grade 10 students won’t arrive until the day after tomorrow. That makes you the backbone of the event, so I hope everyone signs up enthusiastically.”
She didn’t walk to the front, just stood by the back door. “Have some fun, relax a bit, and create some precious memories for your high school years. Submit your performance ideas to Xiao Zhong ASAP. Once approved, you can start rehearsing.”
The whole class turned to look at her. At the mention of “rehearsal,” a wave of excitement burst through the room—people slammed their desks and cheered.
“Keep it down—it’s self-study period.”
Almost immediately, other teachers from nearby classrooms shouted the same, prompting another burst of laughter before Wen Xiang clapped her hands and quieted everyone again.
“This year’s show will last three days. The first day’s at the school’s ice rink, and the next two will be in the auditorium. If you can skate, make sure to shine—there’ll be practice time on the rink too!”
“WOOOO!!”
This time, the cheering was even louder. “We’ve got this in the bag!”
The anniversary event had prizes. Audience members voted for their favorite class performances, and the winning classes got awards.
Almost the entire class turned their heads to the corner of the room.
Yu Wei did too, glancing past Wen Xiang toward Yu Wei.
She was reading, her head slightly lowered. Sunlight hit the loose strands of hair on her forehead and the depths of her quiet gaze. All the excited shouts and hopeful glances scattered like a drop of water vanishing into the sea.
A subtle silence fell.
“To give you all a heads-up—after the school celebration, we’ve got the monthly exams. It’s going to be a joint test, apparently.”
“Ugh—”
“Xiang-jie, why’d you have to say it—?”
“Welp, party’s over.”
Monthly exams were a long-standing tradition. Everyone already knew they were coming, but hearing it aloud made it hit harder.
“Alright, that’s enough. Back to class,” Wen Xiang added. “And finalize your performances ASAP.”
As soon as she left, the classroom exploded into chatter. Students asked each other what they were signing up for while the arts committee prepared to record submissions.
Cheng Miao twisted left and right in excitement, sneaking peeks at Yu Wei, then quickly looking away again.
A few seconds later, Yu Wei received a message from her:
Cheng Miao: Do you think Xiao Yu will sign up?
Yu Wei: Ask her yourself.
Cheng Miao: I’m too scared.
If even Cheng Miao didn’t dare ask, then no one else would. Yet everyone’s eyes lingered on Yu Wei, subtle and brief, as if passing through her.
The self-study period passed, with those involved in performances finishing their discussions and heading off to submit their forms. Gradually, the noise faded.
Yu Wei never moved.
After class, Wen Xiang came again and called Yu Wei outside.
Yu Wei turned her head but hadn’t reacted before Cheng Miao half-dragged her to squeeze into the back doorway. The door was half open.
At an angle through the gap, they could just make out two people standing by the balcony not far away.
Yu Wei pulled her hand back. “This isn’t right.”
“But I really want to know,” Cheng Miao whispered. “From last year till now, Xiao Yu hasn’t competed in a single match. There’s not even a trace of her online.”
Cheng Miao didn’t know about the car accident, and Yu Wei hadn’t found anything about it online either.
She leaned against the wall by the door, her lower back pressing against Yu Wei’s chair. She looked outside. The sun at five or six in the evening wasn’t blinding. It spread softly, casting everything in a warm golden hue.
“…The school leaders surely hope… it’s your own decision… as long as you enjoy it…”
Cheng Miao stomped her foot anxiously. “I can’t hear anything!”
Yu Wei lowered her gaze. After a long while, she heard Yu Wei say, “I’m not participating.”
“Why not?”
Another long silence. So long that Yu Wei thought maybe she had already answered, and she just hadn’t heard it.
Watching Yu Wei frown slightly and her expression grow a little pale, Wen Xiang gently patted her arm. “Don’t be nervous. The school won’t force anyone. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. If you want to have fun, just sign up. Think it over, okay?”
Yu Wei didn’t respond but suddenly turned around.
Wen Xiang looked at her in confusion and saw the classroom’s back door shut tight. In the hallway, a few students were pretending to look around casually—but now they were all facing the other direction in unison, just a line of backs.
“Everyone actually really likes you. Maybe they just don’t know how to get along with you yet.”
Yu Wei gave a quiet “Mm.”
Cheng Miao opened the door Yu Wei had closed and turned to look at her. “What’s wrong?”
Yu Wei touched the collar of her school uniform at her neck without thinking, shook her head stiffly, and said, “Nothing.”
She turned back to her seat, heart pounding in her chest.
Not long after, Yu Wei returned, looking perfectly calm. She pulled out her chair and sat down, picking up her book.
But the pen in her hand hadn’t moved for a long time, and she hadn’t flipped the page either.
During the final self-study class, each class’s art committee members were called for a meeting. When Zhong Ling returned, her face was bitter. “Guys, please, we don’t have enough entries for our class. Each class needs to submit at least six or seven performances for prelims. Help us out and fill the slots.”
“But will there even be enough time to perform them all? The art-track students probably have quality and quantity—we’re just participating for fun, right?”
“Can’t say for sure. The celebration lasts three days.”
Zhong Ling looked cautiously toward Yu Wei. “Big boss, are you in or not?”
The classroom fell into a second of instant silence.
“Sorry,” Yu Wei said, still looking down at her book.
Ding Yangze snorted from the front row—his voice particularly jarring in the silence. Cheng Miao muttered a low curse.
“She’s a genius!” another classmate suddenly shouted, “She passed Grade 8 of the ABRSM violin exams a few years ago—she’s super skilled!”
“For real—?!”
“No way??”
Almost everyone turned to look at Yu Wei.
Yu Wei lowered her gaze and pressed her lips together. “…I’ve already forgotten.”
The pen in Yu Wei’s hand twitched slightly, but her posture didn’t change. Her gaze slid sideways.
“I’ll sign up!” Cheng Miao smacked the desk. “Let’s do a skit!”
Zhong Ling frowned. “You alone? That’s just a stand-up.”
“I’m not alone.” Cheng Miao pointed. “I’ll play Xu Xian. Liang Pang can be Bai Suzhen, then we’ll get two more for Xiao Qing and Fa Hai. I’ll give you the script tonight.”
Liang Pang groaned, “Boss, I’ve also got lion dancing!”
“Just stagger the performances,” Cheng Miao declared, already pulling the boy in front of her to be Xiao Qing. “We just need one more for Fa Hai.”
Zhong Ling gritted her teeth. “I’ll do it!”
They slapped together a skit to add to the list, but it still wasn’t enough. Everyone knew the school had opened the ice rink just for Yu Wei, but no one expected she wouldn’t participate.
After school, Yu Wei went straight upstairs without a word. Ding Qing was busy with nonstop calls and hadn’t eaten—she returned to her study to keep working.
Yu Wei sat alone at the dinner table, staring at the delicate food on her plate, without any appetite.
At 11:30 p.m., Yu Wei opened her bedroom door and saw Yu Wei standing outside.
Yu Wei pressed her lips together and looked up. “I want to go too.”
Yu Wei frowned but didn’t speak.
The two went downstairs one after the other. Ding Qing was waiting in the living room. Seeing Yu Wei following behind, she asked casually, “Xiao Wei’s going too? It’s so late—are you sure you can get up for class tomorrow?”
Yu Wei suddenly froze, staring blankly at Ding Qing. It felt like a wad of cotton had lodged in her throat—wet, coarse, and painfully swollen.
She quickly looked away. “Mm,” she said softly, lowering her head and going down the stairs.
“I just want to see.”
Ding Qing didn’t ask further. Her gaze lingered on the two of them for a moment, then she smiled faintly. “Alright then, let’s go.”
At night, the ice rink was eerily quiet. The elevators had stopped running, and the higher levels were swallowed by darkness, surrounded by layers of guardrails.
Only the central lights above the rink in the middle of the mall were still on.
A single spotlight fell far away on the ice.
Yu Wei stood outside the guardrails next to Ding Qing, her gaze following the figure skating across the ice at high speed.
The blades hissed and scraped across the rink.
Yu Wei was clearly not in a good state.
Every jump failed. She got up, skated away, fell again—over and over. Her body looked like an object, tossed and slammed again and again on the ice, only to continue.
Yu Wei’s dulled nerves tightened over and over. Her chest and throat twisted and shrank. It wasn’t exactly pain—but it was deeply uncomfortable.
She turned to look at Ding Qing.
Tears were streaming down Ding Qing’s face.
“I need some air,” Ding Qing said, turning away. Her high heels clattered messily and sharply across the tiles as she walked.
Yu Wei pulled off her jacket and skated over to grab a tissue to blow her nose.
Her clothes were soaked—either from sweat or from melted ice from falling so many times. The dampness had seeped through the fabric.
“Why didn’t you sign up for the school celebration?” Yu Wei asked.
Yu Wei’s tissue-covered hand paused on her face. Her eyelids drooped low, voice muffled behind the tissue, sounding congested like her nose was blocked. “What about you? Why didn’t you?”
“I asked first,” Yu Wei said, lips tight.
“So what?” Yu Wei blew her nose, bent down to throw the tissue into a plastic bag, her nose tip red. “Just because you ask, I have to answer?”
She stood and skated away again.
“Because no one’s looking forward to it,” Yu Wei said softly. Her gaze fell on the jacket resting on the low railing. “So what’s the point?”
Yu Wei stopped with her blade tip pressed into the ice and turned back to look at her.
She was standing outside the rink, just on the edge of the spotlight overhead—caught between light and shadow, wrapped in a faint gray mist.
Yu Wei came back to her senses and looked up.
Their eyes met for less than a second before Yu Wei turned and skated away again.
This ice training session was a disaster. Yu Wei was clearly not in form—she kept falling. The air around her grew heavier, more oppressive. But she still finished the session, changed her skates, grabbed her jacket, and got in the car.
She was silent, heavy with gloom.
They sat on opposite sides of the car. Yu Wei glanced over and saw her staring out the window, her hand clenched tightly at her side.
Her phone buzzed twice.
Yu Wei snapped out of it and pulled the phone from her jacket pocket.
…: If I play the accompaniment for you, will you perform?
Yu Wei’s grip on the phone tightened. She turned her head slightly to look at her.
Yu Wei was staring down at her phone screen.
Yu Wei turned off the phone and flipped it over, placing it screen-down beside her.