Unbearable - Chapter 22
Chapter 22: Yu Wei’s Gaze Flinched Like She Had Been Stung
By the time they got back from the ice rink, it was already 2 AM.
Before going out, while Yu Wei was practicing in the gym, Yu Wei had already taken a shower. But after skating, she felt sticky all over again.
Instead of showering again, she fetched a basin of water, soaked a towel, and stood in the bathroom wiping herself down.
Just as Yu Wei opened the bathroom door, she heard the faint sound of water.
Soft and subtle.
Like water being lifted and dripping gently through someone’s fingers.
She didn’t turn on the light. The only illumination came from the natural light outside—dim and blurry.
Behind the villa, a patch of bamboo blocked the sightlines from the tall buildings. At this hour, the shadows of bamboo swayed, rustling in the night wind.
The water sounds stopped, and a set of tired, light footsteps padded away, fading into the distance.
Yu Wei sat at her desk and opened her drawing software. Cheng Miao’s recommendation had worked—her commission account received tons of DMs and comments overnight.
Some people placed direct orders; others asked if she had any sample character drawings.
Her account only featured scenery and animals, plus a few banners she had drawn for Cheng Miao. As for characters, there was only one.
Naturally, people started asking in the comments if she was a fan of Yu Wei’s ice skating.
User: “I mean, who can resist going crazy—please draw a chibi of her for a banner.”
User: [Image]
User: “Like this!”
Yu Wei lay in bed looking at the person in the photo—it must’ve been taken after a competition. A gold medal hung around her neck, and a wreath of red-purple flowers sat on her head, framing a brilliantly bright smile.
She looked like a completely different person compared to now.
Cat Eats Fish: “Sure.”
It was already past midnight, but the other party replied almost instantly.
User: “Can you rush it? I need it urgently.”
Yu Wei’s only upcoming event was the school anniversary next week, so it was likely a classmate ordering in a hurry. Yu Wei had drawn stuff for Cheng Miao before and knew they often needed time to print the banners, so the rush made sense.
Cat Eats Fish: “Got it.”
Chibi drawings were easy. Yu Wei had drawn plenty before, so she quickly sent the client the line art. The other person responded with a flurry of excitement, saying it was a shame Yu Wei’s bio said she didn’t take portrait commissions—they would’ve wanted a private one.
Then they swiftly sent a partial deposit and went to bed.
Yu Wei turned off the light, glanced at the protective gear and skates on her desk, looked up their prices, and transferred 6,000 yuan to Yu Wei.
Two minutes later, Yu Wei replied with a question mark.
Yu Wei: “For the skates and gear. It was too expensive—I can’t just accept them.”
She was still working as a coach, paying her grandma’s rent every month, and had her own expenses. Yu Wei probably didn’t use any money from her family either.
Yu Wei had used up most of her savings. She did the math, logged into her art account, and deleted the part of her bio that said she didn’t take portrait commissions.
Then she crawled out of bed and turned on the light.
In the early morning hours, her fanbase, mostly pet lovers, got a system notification. Thinking she had posted a new comic, they eagerly clicked in—only to freeze at the image on the homepage.
It was a photo drawn from a low angle, showing a slightly outstretched hand, every muscle detail visible. In the dark background, it looked luminous and strong. Veins ran from the wrist up the forearm, taut and glistening with sweat.
The black sleeve was pushed to the elbow and blended into the background darkness. Only a faint outline of the neck could be seen above that—face obscured by the night—leaving much to the imagination.
The caption was a single word: “Come.”
rwkk: “I’m screaming.”
I Have So Much Money: “I’m screaming.”
Eats Eight Men a Day: “I’m screaming.”
Quit Milk Tea: “I’m coming!”
Blue Rag: “Queen! Let me see more of your skills!”
Kitty vs. Big Dog: “Commission! Check your inbox!”
Yu Wei’s eyelids ached. After posting the image, she responded to a few chibi commission requests and finally turned off her tablet and lay down.
But she couldn’t sleep.
After tossing and turning, she heard the door outside.
The night was silent. A sliver of moonlight leaked through the curtains and fell on the floor. Yu Wei got up, stepped into the moonlight, pulled back a curtain slit, and peeked out.
Yu Wei moved lightly. The newly installed iron gate didn’t make a sound.
Suddenly, Yu Wei looked up.
Yu Wei immediately let go.
The curtain fluttered gently. In the dim night, Yu Wei could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her chest. She swallowed hard.
She couldn’t have seen her—there were no lights on.
But her heart still raced a few seconds.
Yu Wei climbed back into bed and checked her phone—it wasn’t even 5 AM.
So Yu Wei only slept three hours a night? Just thinking about it made Yu Wei’s chest tighten.
She couldn’t sleep either.
She scrolled up through their chat history and stared at the money transfer at the top.
Then she logged out, opened her alt account, added her main, and used her main to send Yu Wei’s contact card to the alt.
She tried adding her again.
A few minutes passed. No response.
Yu Wei was probably out running and didn’t see it.
As she was thinking that, biting her lip and adjusting her message request again—
Yu Wei’s phone had been vibrating repeatedly in her pocket.
She slowed her run, took it out, and saw the same person she had just rejected trying to add her again.
Her finger hovered over the “Block” button, then hesitated and tapped into the request message.
It was a wall of text, packed with words.
Tranquility Is Bliss: “I heard from a parent at Qixiang rink that you’re an amazing coach. I sincerely want you to train my child. I’m a divorced mom of two and have no time to take them to the rink.”
Tranquility Is Bliss: “My kid loves skating—and loves you too.”
Yu Wei was speechless and declined.
Yu Wei: “Sorry, I’m not a professional coach.”
A few seconds later, the person sent another request.
Tranquility Is Bliss: “I just need someone reliable to consult online. Please, I beg you.”
Yu Wei hesitated a bit and accepted.
Once added, the “divorced mom of two” account kept typing. For at least five minutes.
Yu Wei pressed her lips together, about to shut her phone off.
Then the message came through:
Tranquility Is Bliss: “Any ice skate recommendations?”
Likes skating but doesn’t even know how to buy skates?
Yu Wei raised an eyebrow.
Yu Wei: “Ones that fit and have good support.”
Tranquility Is Bliss: “Thanks!”
Tranquility Is Bliss: “Transferring 1,000 to you.”
Yu Wei paused, standing by the roadside.
Yu Wei: “You don’t have to pay for a question like this.”
Yu Wei flipped over and froze. She’d been so focused on building a believable persona to gain Yu Wei’s sympathy that she had no clue how to ask real skating questions.
Tranquility Is Bliss: “I got a huge divorce settlement. I’ve got nothing but money.”
Tranquility Is Bliss: “Just take it.”
Tranquility Is Bliss: “The kid’s awake. Gotta go make milk. I’ll reach out if I have more questions.”
Yu Wei: “…”
She tossed her phone and buried her face under the blanket.
Nothing else she could do.
But it was fine—as long as she didn’t get blocked, there was still a chance.
Once the shame faded, exhaustion and drowsiness hit her like a wave. Her right hand ached, her body felt heavy, and she didn’t want to move. Half-asleep, she scooted down the bed until half her face peeked out of the covers.
Finally, she fell deeply asleep.
So deep she didn’t even dream. Until the sound of running water suddenly reached her ears.
Her eyes opened. For a second, she was disoriented. Daylight was flooding the room, casting warm light on the end of her bed.
Yu Wei bolted upright—but her body, sore from sleep, ached so badly she collapsed halfway up.
The sound of water from the next room stopped.
Two minutes later, footsteps paused outside her door, followed by a knock.
Yu Wei had just managed to stand by the bed and change when the knock startled her so much she fell back down.
Her phone buzzed.
She reached for it and saw a payment notification from Yu Wei.
Yu Wei ran her fingers along the edge of her phone.
Another knock.
Yu Wei scooted over and opened the door.
“Your legs hurt?” Yu Wei stood there, holding her phone, scanning her up and down.
Yu Wei pressed her lips together and nodded.
They did hurt—not just her legs, but also her back, waist, and right arm.
“I’ll give you a massage,” Yu Wei offered.
Yu Wei was about to decline when she heard, “I fell asleep last night, but I saw your payment this morning. You overpaid. Let’s count this as the fee for one massage.”
What kind of logic was that…
She made it sound like settling debts again, but this time Yu Wei had sent the money first. Yu Wei murmured, “Then I overpaid.”
“Want me to refund the rest?” Yu Wei frowned slightly. “But I already transferred the money to my grandma.”
Yu Wei: “…”
So broke and still buying skates and protective gear for her.
“No need for the massage—we’ve got class soon,” Yu Wei said.
Yu Wei pocketed her phone. “We’ve got time. Just a quick hot compress. Otherwise, you won’t even be able to climb stairs at school.”
Yu Wei hesitated, then opened the door.
Better to embarrass herself in front of one person at home than let everyone stare at her at school.
But when she was lying face-down on the bed, taking orders from Yu Wei, she regretted it.
Yu Wei came out of the bathroom with a basin of hot water and found Yu Wei lying stiff and straight, blanket covering her, eyes closed like she had fallen asleep again.
She paused, then brought the water over and knelt by the bed.
The mattress dipped slowly.
Yu Wei flinched.
“I’ll just do it myself,” she said, eyes open, voice firm but soft. “Forget the money.”
Yu Wei didn’t respond. She dipped the towel into the water—splash—and said, “Just a moment. You’re not used to intense physical activity. I should’ve ended the session earlier last night.”
As she spoke, she lifted the blanket and rolled up the pant leg, exposing the knee.
“I insisted on skating,” Yu Wei quickly said.
The hot towel suddenly touched her calf. Yu Wei’s voice faded, trailing off into a tiny exhale.
Yu Wei’s fingers twitched. She looked down and noticed the fresh scab on Yu Wei’s ankle—picked off, new pink skin underneath with faint crescent-shaped marks.
Yu Wei frowned slightly and gently pressed with the towel. Beads of water followed the muscle contours and slid down her leg.
It tickled.
The pale white calf tightened.
She’d done countless massages during training, and the team’s physical therapists often helped with muscle recovery—this was a normal move.
But right now, Yu Wei didn’t know where to put her hands.
She lowered her head, hair falling over her face, posture awkward. Her fingers hovered above Yu Wei’s leg—curled, then slowly spread.
The heel of her palm pressed into the muscle.
“Mm—”
Yu Wei wasn’t ready. The pain made her grab the sheets tightly, her voice shaky, a muffled gasp slipping through her teeth.
Yu Wei immediately drew back her hand. Her fingers curled in, forearm tense. She looked up quickly, away from her leg—then saw Yu Wei’s hand clutching the sheets.
The blanket was wrinkled, crumpled tightly in her pale fingers.
Yu Wei’s gaze flinched like she had been stung—and suddenly looked away.
There was a long pause.
Yu Wei, face pressed to the pillow, bit her lip and whispered, “…It doesn’t… really hurt.”