Unbearable - Chapter 31

Chapter 31: Found the Moon

 

The ice skates were the new pair Yu Wei had just bought. New ones—how could the laces snap? And the break was right at the toe. It was only when Yu Wei gave it a hard yank that a section came out.

 

She bent down to inspect it closely. The cut was clean, with only a bit of frayed thread at the edge—not natural wear and tear at all.

 

“It was deliberately cut.” Yu Wei lowered her voice, urgent and panicked.

 

It hadn’t been cut all the way through. The break had been hidden cleverly enough to be hard to notice. But once she jumped and landed hard on the ice, it would’ve snapped from the impact. Her ankle would lose support—at best, she’d mess up the routine and miss all the difficult jumps; at worst, she’d get injured.

 

Yu Wei had only heard gossip from Cheng Miao about the bizarre and malicious things that had happened in this sport before. She never imagined she’d see it happen to Yu Wei herself.

 

“Good thing we caught it in time.” Yu Wei grabbed Yu Wei’s hand and looked up at her.
“Go ahead and perform first.”

 

Canceling the show last-minute wasn’t an option.

 

Her hand in Yu Wei’s was warm and soft. Yu Wei stared at her in the dark.
“I didn’t bring any backup skates.”

 

Yu Wei quickly unfastened the laces on her own shoes—her hands moving faster than they ever had.
As she yanked them out, she told Yu Wei, “Use mine. Hurry and pull out the broken one.”

 

Her voice had risen in urgency.

 

Yu Wei stared at the hair hanging down in front of Yu Wei’s face.
“But what about you?”

 

“Everyone came for your performance, not mine.” Yu Wei quickly pulled out her own laces and handed them over.
“I’ll just wear my shoes and stand offstage. It’s fine.”

 

The spotlight lit up the stage entrance, but no one came out.

 

The audience began to stir.

 

“No, I came just to see you.” Yu Wei paused.
“You’re the musician.”

 

Yu Wei didn’t respond. She pressed her lips together and reached out to help Yu Wei lace up, but Yu Wei caught her fingers in her own.

 

“I’ll do it.”

 

The crowd outside was growing increasingly restless and noisy. Cheng Miao came offstage and pushed a small round platform prepared by the prop team into the center of the ice, temporarily silencing the audience’s doubts. As soon as she stepped off the rink, she spotted the two of them standing at the entrance.

 

“Go, go! You’ve got this!” she called, extending her arms for a hug, the kind you give a bestie for encouragement.

 

But just as she reached out, Yu Wei frowned, pulled Yu Wei into her side by the shoulder, and the obvious height difference immediately caught Cheng Miao’s attention. She looked down and saw Yu Wei barefoot.

 

“Where are your shoes?” she gasped.

 

The shoes lay on the floor nearby.

 

Yu Wei had taken both skates off—but her regular shoes were still in the locker room.

 

“Are you ready?” Yu Wei, still holding her close, asked at the edge of the rink.

 

“…Not yet.”

 

Yu Wei clutched her violin tightly. She still didn’t have shoes on.

 

The host tried to warm up the crowd again, drawing raucous applause and attention toward the entrance.

 

Yu Wei bent down and pulled the socks off Yu Wei’s feet. The chill immediately enveloped her toes.

 

“There’s no time.” Yu Wei said as she slipped an arm under her knees.
“Don’t be scared.”

 

Yu Wei gasped, but her cry was swallowed by the thunderous screams.

 

The school had hired professional lighting. Everything went black—except a single spotlight following the two as they entered the rink.

 

Yu Wei’s dark green skirt billowed in the wind. One hand held her violin, and the other tightly gripped Yu Wei’s neck. Her gaze landed on Yu Wei’s focused profile.

 

As calm and confident as ever, as if victory were already in hand.

 

Yu Wei’s racing heartbeat began to settle, as if soothed by magic.

 

Yu Wei gently placed her on the small round platform in the middle of the rink. She looked down at Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei looked up and reached for the glasses on Yu Wei’s nose, setting them aside on the platform.

 

If you’re scared, then don’t look. Just pretend it’s only you and me.

 

The light shone down from above, casting a silvery glow over Yu Wei’s flowing white hair, cascading like a waterfall over the dark green shimmer of her dress.

 

Her thick lashes hung low, hiding her heterochromatic eyes. Her face was turned slightly to the side, her gaze seemingly fixed on the violin strings.

 

Simple. Pure. Unadorned.

 

Even the spotlight seemed to dim around her, and the noise of the crowd was swallowed by the dark.

 

A hush fell instantly.

 

Everyone was stunned by her extraordinary beauty, momentarily entranced.

 

Until the violin’s melancholy and graceful notes filled the air.

 

Blades sliced across the ice—fast and fluid—hissing through the air. The wind stirred as if rushing past them and drifting away.

 

The sound blended with the music, peaking, then giving way to the crisp sound of blades landing.

 

Applause and gasps began to ripple through the shadows.

 

Yu Wei couldn’t see it—she could only hear it: the skates, the music, the clapping and cheering, the intense sorrow and waves of emotion that pulsed like flames, burning in her chest.

 

The center axis tightened—spinning fast and steady—and stopped in sync with the fading violin.

 

The lights converged and fell on the two in the center of the rink.

 

Yu Wei turned to Yu Wei, lifted her chin slightly, one hand over her heart, the other extended toward her.

 

As the music stopped, Yu Wei looked to the side, her eyes lowered.

 

Light shimmered over her snow-like hair—like moonlight draped around her.

 

Yu Wei suddenly recalled Romeo’s words:
“With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls; for stony limits cannot hold love out…”

 

She looked at Yu Wei.

 

It felt as if that moonlight had landed on her too. In that moment, she understood why Romeo spoke those words, and why he swore by the moon.

 

And why Juliet refused it.

 

Moonlight was pure and radiant—but compared to the person before her, it still seemed dim.

 

Thunderous applause erupted as the lights fully lit the rink.

 

Yu Wei picked up the glasses from the platform and tucked them into her collar, still looking at Yu Wei, her heart still pounding from the afterglow.

 

Amid the cheers, she raised her hands toward Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei gently lowered her violin from her shoulder, shyly bit her lip, curled her toes, and slowly leaned into Yu Wei’s arms.

 

In front of everyone, Yu Wei gripped her waist and lifted her into her arms, skating toward the edge of the rink.

 

Yu Wei held her violin in one hand and placed the other on Yu Wei’s shoulder, her feet dangling, relying entirely on Yu Wei’s arms. She held her breath, eyes wide.

 

Yu Wei, amid the deafening screams echoing through the stadium, let out a quiet laugh.

 

Yu Wei looked down at her, then quickly looked away.

 

Wind whipped their skirts as they glided to the edge of the rink.

 

“Holy sh*t that was epic!!”

 

“Was that… art? My god, even the gym feels more majestic now!”

 

“Put this in the school history books!”

 

Class A students gathered at the rink entrance, shouting incoherently in their excitement. They practically wanted to drag the two into a ceremony on the spot.

 

Yu Wei, still holding Yu Wei, spun around once before stepping off the ice with her back turned and placing Yu Wei on the boards.

 

“Wait—”

 

Yu Wei braced herself on the barrier, trying to slide down.

 

Cheng Miao, still in her white photoshoot dress, jumped around nearby.
“Damn! You two are amazing! You’re the Romeo and Juliet of Yali High! I’m shipping you two hard!”

 

“Don’t say that.” Yu Wei hurriedly cut her off.

 

She and Yu Wei were just sisters. Yu Wei had even asked her to call her “big sis.”
Yu Wei sneaked a glance at her, worried she might be upset.

 

She’s shy, Yu Wei thought.

 

Since Yu Wei was still there, Cheng Miao chuckled twice.
“By the way, I haven’t asked—where are your shoes?”

 

Everyone had seen them take the stage in a princess carry and leave the same way.

 

Plenty had noticed that Yu Wei was barefoot.

 

“Wasn’t that part of the design?” a classmate asked.

 

Cheng Miao was the first to disagree:
“No way.”

 

She’d known Yu Wei for years. Just getting her to agree to perform at the school anniversary was already beyond shocking.

 

She’d laughed and cried through the whole routine—her nose was still stuffy.

 

“Yu Wei’s skate laces were cut. I pulled mine out for her to use.” Yu Wei pressed her lips together, waiting for her heartbeat to calm down.
“My shoes were in the dressing room. There wasn’t enough time, so this was the only way.”

 

“What?!”

 

Cheng Miao shouted, drawing the attention of others nearby.
“Who the hell would do something so evil?!”

 

Yu Wei sat uncomfortably on the rink’s barrier, feeling all the eyes on her—it was overwhelming.

 

As she pushed off to slide down, Yu Wei caught her waist and held her close.

 

The gesture felt a bit strange.

 

Cheng Miao noticed but was too angry to dwell on it.

 

“I should…” Yu Wei pointed to the glasses on Yu Wei’s collar.

 

She didn’t want to wear them. She didn’t want to see people’s expressions—but there were too many people here. She needed to get her shoes, find the teacher, maybe even speak to school leadership.

 

Yu Wei took the glasses and handed them to her, then bent down to grab the skates by the barrier.

 

“I’ll do it.” Yu Wei quickly bent down and picked up her socks, awkwardly stuffing them into her skates. They had cartoon cats on them—maybe even more embarrassing to wear on stage.

 

“Let’s head back to the dressing room.”

 

Yu Wei put blade guards on and turned to Cheng Miao. After speaking, she looked back at Yu Wei, who was putting on her socks.

 

Then, without warning, she scooped her up again.

 

“Ah—”

 

Yu Wei yelped, then quickly fell silent.

 

The host was still wrapping up on the rink, with dramatic background music playing.

 

They were already making a big enough scene. Plenty of people were staring—some even coming down from the stands.

 

As Yu Wei finished changing, Cheng Miao arrived with Wen Xiang. The two sat side by side, surrounded by classmates.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

Wen Xiang also thought the dramatic entrances and exits had been pre-planned. It had felt like Romeo and Juliet. But hearing Cheng Miao’s account chilled her. She rushed over to ask.

 

Other students and teachers had come as well.

 

Yu Wei explained the events again, frowning.

 

Normally quiet and withdrawn, Yu Wei always sat in the back row, never close with anyone but Cheng Miao.

 

Now she wore a rare serious expression, looking straight at Wen Xiang.

 

“No one got hurt, right?” a teacher asked.

 

Yu Wei pressed her lips together, brow slightly furrowed.

 

Yu Wei had been watching her the whole time. Since she stepped onto the ice, her attention had been fixed on Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei hated being watched—hated even walking with someone behind her. She never reported the thugs who hurt her. It was like she didn’t know any option but endurance.

 

But now, she lifted her chin, fists clenched on her knees.

 

Yu Wei opened her mouth—but then heard Yu Wei speak:

 

“Only because we caught it in time.”

 

Her voice was still soft, but firm and powerful.

 

“Let’s not rush. Let the teacher ask first.” Wen Xiang knew her well—if she wasn’t pushed to the edge, she wouldn’t even lift her head, let alone argue with a teacher.

 

On the way over, she’d already heard from Cheng Miao how serious this was. Angry on behalf of her student, she asked sternly:

 

“Are you sure this wasn’t an accident? Where were the skates kept?”

 

“It wasn’t an accident. The skates are new.” Yu Wei held down her anger.
“They were in the classroom all day. Only during the last two periods—when I went out with Yu Wei—were they unattended. When I got back, I took them straight to the dressing room. Except for those two periods, they were never out of sight.”

 

Someone in the crowd whispered:
“But they weren’t even your skates. How can you be sure?”

 

“I’m sure.” Yu Wei pressed her lips tight. The wound on her dry lips cracked, bleeding slightly. She didn’t explain further—just looked at Wen Xiang and said:

 

“If by tomorrow—no, tonight—the school still can’t find who did it, I’m going to the police.”

 

She swallowed. In the silence that followed, she added:

 

“I have the right to report this.”

 

Her back straightened, her chin tightened.

 

But then she realized—no, it wasn’t her right to report it. It was Yu Wei’s.

 

She turned to look at her.

 

Yu Wei looked back, smiling and nodding.

 

“Yes. You’re absolutely right.”

 

Yu Wei pressed her lips together, frowning slightly.
How could Yu Wei still smile at a time like this? Didn’t she feel angry or upset about something this serious?