Unbearable - Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Don’t Be Nervous

By the time the two returned to school, the anniversary celebration was already in full swing. Late-arriving parents and alumni continued to stream in, either alone or in small groups, all heading toward the gymnasium.

Yu Wei hadn’t received any messages from Ding Qing.

Her eyes darted around blankly but quickly, scanning every passerby—none of them looked like Ding Qing.

Festive decorations were strung on the campus street lamps, and directional signs pointing toward the gymnasium appeared at regular intervals. The skating club, which hadn’t registered for the school celebration, was taking the opportunity to recruit new members, but there weren’t any students around. After a while of glancing around, they packed up and headed toward the gymnasium as well.

Since autumn had arrived, the days grew shorter, and the nights were no longer as sweltering as before. Still, perhaps due to the long absence of rain, the air felt especially heavy and stifling.

But even that oppressive air felt far better than the earlier heat. Even though the collar covering Yu Wei’s nose made it hard to breathe—so much so that she sometimes felt like she was on the verge of suffocation—Yu Wei liked this feeling.

It made her feel alive.

Not eye-catching, but so vividly aware of her own existence—it was a kind of being alive.

The classroom was completely empty.

Yu Wei picked up the violin case leaning against the desk and grabbed her clothes from the cubby. Together with Yu Wei, who was carrying both of their schoolbags, they headed toward the gym.

From far away, they could already hear the booming cheers from the gymnasium. The performance had already started an hour ago.

But their act was the finale—the very last one—so they still had time.

“Nervous?” Yu Wei asked.

Yu Wei swallowed. “…Yeah, nervous.”

It would be a lie to say she wasn’t.

The boxwood prayer beads on her wrist hung loosely over her palm. Hidden under her sleeve, her fingers curled and rubbed against the beads, making them spin slowly.

She didn’t really know how the talisman-requesting process worked. When she visited the temple, she couldn’t find the head monk. Yu Wei, on the other hand, was familiar with the process but only said, “Sincerity is enough. You don’t need the formalities.”

After wandering around for a bit, Yu Wei had ended up just hanging a wish tag and buying two sets of beads before coming back.

Now she felt a bit of regret—she should have asked for a talisman.

Yu Wei paused, turned to her side, and reached out a hand.

Yu Wei lowered her gaze to look at the beads on her wrist that fit just right. A flash of envy passed through her eyes, followed by a touch of hesitation as she carefully reached out.

Her knuckles were cool and dry.

The moment Yu Wei’s hand touched hers, it was firmly held.

Her hands were so big, Yu Wei thought absentmindedly. If Yu Wei didn’t stop growing, she might end up even taller—both Ding Qing and Yu Jingcheng were tall.

Unlike herself—short and small.

A shadow approached, unfamiliar. A hand wrapped around her shoulder and rested on her back.

Warmth spread from in front of her. Yu Wei rested her chin against Yu Wei’s shoulder. In this position, their joined hands pressed together, heartbeats pounding in sync, thumping steadily.

The boxwood beads on their wrists lay staggered, overlapping.

“Don’t be nervous,” Yu Wei said. “If you’re scared, just take off your glasses and pretend there’s no one there. Just imagine we’re practicing together at night like usual.”

The evening breeze rustled the treetops, brushing past Yu Wei’s hair and lightly sweeping over Yu Wei’s head.

It tickled.

“Mhm.” Yu Wei’s voice was a little muffled through the collar.

Yu Wei let go.

The embrace dissolved. The wind rushed in to fill the void.

Yu Wei tilted her head slightly, catching a glimpse of the person beside her from the corner of her eye. So this was what it felt like to be hugged.

A tiny desire quietly stirred in her heart, but she quickly forced it back down.

They stood a half-body apart. The breeze slipped through the space between them, carrying the lingering warmth.

Neither spoke.

Inside the ice rink, the show was already underway. From the rink to the changing rooms outside, the place was packed.

Yu Wei kept her head down, gripping the violin strap on her shoulder. Suddenly, someone took her hand.

She looked up in shock to see Yu Wei—but Yu Wei didn’t look back or say a word, only walked ahead confidently, cutting through the crowded hallway.

Low murmurs around them carried Yu Wei’s name, but she didn’t stop or acknowledge anyone.

They crossed the corridor and opened a door labeled “Girls’ Dressing Room” printed on a plain A4 sheet.

The dressing room used to be a storage space. Some sports gear was stacked in cardboard boxes along the walls. Half the room had been cleared out, with a few chairs placed around—just enough to serve as a makeshift changing room.

Someone had brought in a long clothing rack, stretching it across the room like a screen. It was packed with costumes and just barely provided some visual separation.

Yu Wei peeked around the other side of the rack.

She let out a breath of relief and turned. “No one’s here.”

Yu Wei hummed in acknowledgment.

No one was inside. The performance had been going on for a while. Judging by the rack full of costumes, everyone had already changed and gone to wait backstage or watch the show.

They were late.

“Aren’t you going to change?” Yu Wei put down her violin case, sat on a chair against the wall, and bit her lip.

Yu Wei stood on the other side of the rack, the two separated by the clothes hanging between them.

After a few seconds of silence, Yu Wei said, “You go first.”

Yu Wei lowered her eyes and softly replied, “Okay.”

She had never changed clothes in a place like this. It felt awkward—but also, in a way, she was a bit relieved Yu Wei wasn’t coming over.

She tried to move as quietly as possible, but the room was small. The clothes barely blocked the view and didn’t do anything to muffle sound.

The rustle of fabric as she changed fell clearly into Yu Wei’s ears.

The tightly shut room felt even more stifling. Yu Wei stood by the window, but the curtains were drawn tight, blocking any air.

Yu Wei pressed her lips together.

She had changed in crowded dressing rooms during competitions, with no separation at all—but never had she felt this… hot.

The smell of dust and mixed fabrics filled the air, suffocating her.

Yu Wei exhaled and lowered her gaze.

Through the space under the rack, a pair of pale, slender legs came into view.

Yu Wei immediately turned away, forcing her eyes to focus on the faded curtain pattern—but the sounds behind her only seemed to grow louder.

It felt like the rack had disappeared, like the person dressing was right next to her.

Maybe it was the lack of ventilation. The air felt thin, and her heart pounded like a drum in her chest.

That must be it—the room hadn’t been used in a while and had poor airflow.

She tried to distract herself, but the earlier image kept creeping back into her mind.

Time dragged on endlessly. The sounds only grew louder, interspersed with slightly rough, hurried breathing.

Yu Wei frowned. It wasn’t her imagination.

She was taking a while to change.

“Are you done?” she asked.

Her voice was lower than usual, hoarse and dry.

Yu Wei’s hands were behind her back. Already anxious, she became more flustered when she heard the question. Her fingers fumbled at the zipper—no matter how hard she tried, it wouldn’t budge.

“…Just a sec,” Yu Wei gasped. “Almost.”

But the zipper wouldn’t move. The tight sleeves pulled taut across her shoulders. She tried to reach, arm aching with effort.

She was panicking.

And the more she panicked, the worse it got.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she bit her lip.

There was no AC. Her awkward posture made her overheat. Her sweaty hands couldn’t grip the tiny zipper pull.

Yu Wei listened to her movements and pressed her lips together. “Need help?”

“No—” Yu Wei gave a hard tug. Her fingers slipped, and her arm flew forward, hitting the wall with a thud. “Ow—”

“What happened?”

Yu Wei hurried over, then paused when she saw her back.

The white dress, decorated with tiny crystals, shimmered in the light. It hugged her narrow waist, the zipper stuck halfway, revealing a glimpse of her shoulder blades.

Her skin was paler than the dress itself—like fine porcelain.

“…Let me help,” Yu Wei said softly as she stepped forward.

Yu Wei panted, the pain fading. She could only nod.

Her neck dipped slightly. The tied-up hair fell like satin down her nape.

Yu Wei bent closer, searching through the shimmering beads for the zipper.

It was tiny—barely the size of a grain of rice.

“It’s stuck,” Yu Wei said as she examined it.

Yu Wei’s suspicion was confirmed. She turned to look back, anxious.

Yu Wei’s breath brushed her bare nape—warm, damp.

Yu Wei instantly tensed, holding her breath, her heartbeat loud in the silence.

She regretted this.

She turned her head and saw their overlapping shadows on the wall. She lowered her lashes.

The light was too bright. It made her unusually pale skin look even more glaring.

They were too close. Her flawed body, fully exposed, reflected in Yu Wei’s eyes.

The hot, clammy sweat turned cold, crawling down her spine, straight to her heart.

“No need,” Yu Wei flinched forward. Her voice was tight, trembling slightly. “Don’t—don’t look.”

But the dress was suddenly tugged back. Cool knuckles touched her spine, and Yu Wei instinctively arched forward.

“Don’t move.”

Yu Wei gave up on the tiny pull tab and instead grasped the zipper with her fingers and yanked upward. “It’s caught on the lining.”

As she spoke, her breath alternated warm and cool across Yu Wei’s shoulder.

Shame and an indescribable nervousness flooded every vein, swamping her thoughts.

Her shoulder blades tightened. Her spine dipped.

A gap finally loosened between fabric and skin.

The zipper scraped past the bunched-up fabric.

Yu Wei stood rigid. The dress clung tightly to her unpolished curves.

Yu Wei frowned, her eyes landing on the exposed zipper.

The dress… was too small.

“Is it stuck again?” Yu Wei asked, worried.

Yu Wei pressed her lips together. She pulled the zipper sideways, and it popped open with a snap.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing at the zipper that had split down to the waist. “I pulled too hard. It broke.”

Yu Wei immediately grabbed her neckline and turned around, stammering, “It’s—it’s fine.”

She stood stiffly, soaked in heat, legs pressed to the chair, trying to put distance between them.

“There’s still time.” Yu Wei stepped back to the clothing rack, her mind spinning. “Do you have another dress? Anything would do.”

“No.”

Yu Wei lowered her head.

Yu Wei, dazed, looked at her colorless lips—tinged faintly red.

“Look up,” she said.

Her voice was low and rough in the tiny room, filled with a restless frustration.

Yu Wei didn’t look up. She tightened her lips. “I’ll change back. Can you leave?”

Her voice was soft and ashamed, filled with deep self-loathing.

Yu Wei clenched her jaw for several seconds. “Wait here.”

She spun around and rushed out. Her face was dark with fury—so much that even those wanting to greet her fell silent.

Yu Wei changed back into her school uniform and sat, staring at the beautiful dress in its box.

The tulle shimmered with tiny gems, dreamlike and delicate.

Time passed.

Outside, they were announcing the “A Chinese Ghost Story” act. Footsteps echoed through the hallway.

“Has anyone seen Yu Wei and Yu Wei from Class A?”

“Who?”

“The skating champion and the girl with albinism—they’re up next!”

“I think I saw them.”

“Where?!”

“They were just here… but I think they left again.”

Yu Wei sat numbly, unresponsive.

Eventually, the door opened and closed again.

Yu Wei rushed in, holding a bag, and saw her curled up on the chair.

The oversized school uniform enveloped her, face buried in her knees.

Hearing movement, Yu Wei looked up. Her eyes were red, brimming with tears, pupils a misty pink.

She held her glasses tightly in her hand.

“It’s me,” Yu Wei said quietly.

A few seconds passed. Yu Wei seemed to realize and quickly dropped her gaze, murmuring a flustered “Mm.”

Yu Wei held the bag out to her.

“This is from a banquet I attended a few years ago,” she said tightly. “An old dress. Just use it for now.”

Yu Wei stared blankly, then took it.

Yu Wei grabbed a chair and quietly changed behind the rack.

Soft footsteps approached. Yu Wei nervously clutched the dress and looked at her.

Yu Wei held her skates and looked up.

In the forest-green sleeveless dress, Yu Wei looked almost translucent. Her red eyes beneath thick lashes were exquisite and mysterious—like a woodland sprite.

Innocent, yet full of unease.

Yu Wei was briefly stunned.

“You look good,” she whispered.

Yu Wei lowered her eyes.

Suddenly, the door banged.

The announcer had returned and was rattling the knob.

“Anyone in there? Yu Wei? Yu Wei? Are you in there?”

Yu Wei grabbed her skates and unlocked the door.

The teacher outside gasped, then snapped, “Why didn’t you say anything?! Hurry! The last act is almost done!”

Yu Wei picked up her violin and took a deep breath. She walked out behind Yu Wei.

“Wait.” Yu Wei scanned her quickly, eyes settling on her bare collarbone. She cursed herself—she forgot a necklace.

Yu Wei looked up in confusion.

Yu Wei tugged the hair tie from her nape. Her hair cascaded down, covering her shoulders and part of the green dress.

“You look good,” she said. “Let’s go.”

On the way to the rink, Yu Wei kept adjusting her hair, feeling more stares than usual.

She bowed her head.

Cheng Miao’s group had done well—the audience was laughing, applauding, cheering.

Yu Wei glanced at the rink—only caught a glimpse of them skating off.

She searched the crowd—packed and noisy—but didn’t find who she wanted.

“Next up, from Class A, the figure skating champion and national record holder, winner of international and domestic gold medals—Yu Wei!” the host boomed. “And her partner, Yu Wei, with their performance: Romeo and Juliet!”

“Go Fish Boss! Go Little Fish!”

Class A students shouted: “Go Top Student! Go Yu Wei!”

Yu Wei curled her toes inside her skates.

She looked down at Yu Wei, who suddenly froze while tying her skates.

“What’s wrong?” Yu Wei squatted beside her and saw the broken shoelace in her hands. “How did this happen?!”