Unbearable - Chapter 36

Chapter 36: “Don’t bite anymore,” she said. “I really like it.”

 

Ding Qing was coming back tonight, and from the afternoon onward, Yu Wei kept checking her phone from time to time. She didn’t know where Ding Qing had gone or what time she’d be back.

 

So she just kept taking her phone out, glancing at the screen, then putting it back again.

 

Just like the day before, there were only two classes this afternoon. The last two periods were self-study and free time. The evening party would start at eight.

 

The party would be held in the auditorium over the next two nights. It was a large venue, and many people would be attending, so Yu Wei didn’t plan to go.

 

After the second period, students filed out of the classroom—some to the sports field to watch the freshmen’s military training, some to the auditorium early, and others went out to hang out or straight home.

 

Yu Wei declined Cheng Miao’s invitation and looked down at her phone again.

 

Still nothing. She slid it into her desk, and the screen lit up.

 

Yu Wei instantly pulled it out. A new message had come in.

 

Yu Wei: “I’m going to dance practice.”
Yu Wei: “Are you coming?”

 

Yu Wei rubbed the screen and typed:

 

…: “Not going.”

 

After thinking for a second, she added:

 

…: “My mom might be coming home tonight.”

 

It might rain.

 

The sky was dark and heavy, with clouds pressing low. Swallows flew close to the ground, circling before landing on the balcony outside the classroom, unfazed by passing students.

 

Yu Wei turned to look at the birds standing in the corridor. At first, there was only one, chirping alone. It flew off and returned with another, and soon, several lined up together.

 

As the sky dimmed, her phone screen lit up every few minutes.

 

Each time it lit up, it meant the program had changed at the auditorium. Cheng Miao sent her a photo with each change. This time, it was a video. Though it hadn’t finished loading, she could already see the prominent lion dance on the screen.

 

Cheng Miao: “Gongs, drums, and firecrackers going off!”
Cheng Miao: [Photo]
Cheng Miao: “I even have pictures from your performance with Xiaoyu last night”
Cheng Miao: [Photo]
Cheng Miao: ZIP file
Cheng Miao: “So beautiful, girl. After seeing these, my skin’s glowing and my corpse looks fresh again.”

 

…: “…”

 

Yu Wei opened the two pictures—one taken right before she went on stage, the other during the performance.

 

In the first, she was looking down at her instrument. In the second, her gaze had lifted from the strings, looking elsewhere.

 

…: “Are there a lot of pictures in the ZIP file?”

 

The auditorium must’ve been resetting for a new act, and Cheng Miao responded instantly.

 

Cheng Miao: Quite a few. Someone organized them on the school forum. I just downloaded it randomly. Most of them are probably of Xiaoyu.

 

Yu Wei understood—and even felt a little relieved.

 

She had never taken selfies or pictures of herself, so seeing photos of herself for the first time felt odd.

 

Unfortunately, her old phone didn’t have much storage. It was packed with drawing files and videos, leaving no space for decompression software. She couldn’t open the ZIP file.

 

After hesitating, Yu Wei forwarded it to Yu Wei.

 

As soon as she sent it, the reply popped up instantly.

 

Yu Wei: “?”

 

…: “A student took some photos of the performance last night. Looks like quite a lot.”

 

Yu Wei saw the typing indicator under Yu Wei’s name disappear. She wasn’t interested in ZIP files and didn’t open it.

 

She paused, lowering her eyes.

 

Yu Wei: “Where’d you get it?”

 

…: “The school forum.”

 

After a while, Yu Wei sent a link.

 

Yu Wei wasn’t interested in the forum either. She scrolled up and down the chat thread idly.

 

Yu Wei: “Did you go back?”

 

…: “Not yet.”

 

Yu Wei paused after sending it.

 

She realized she subconsciously didn’t want to go home.

 

As a child, she lived alone, always wondering when her parents would come back. To never miss the chance to see them, she never went anywhere outside of school.

 

She didn’t play, didn’t join any extracurricular activities. After school, she’d sit by the flowerbed at the front gate doing homework, where she could see every car entering the complex. Behind her, past a small slope and fence, was a manmade lake. She watched the willows sprout in spring and the snow pile up in winter.

 

She watched for years before realizing: no one was coming back.

 

So she started applying to live on campus, only going home once a week to clean.

 

The climate here was dry, and the residents in that complex gradually moved out. Later, construction started. She thought, What if—just what if—someone came back and saw a clean house? Maybe they’d feel happy.

 

Still, no one came back.

 

But today, right now, she knew Ding Qing was coming back—but suddenly, she didn’t want to go home.

 

Yu Wei stared at her phone, typing:

 

…: “Are you going skating again today?”

 

Yu Wei: “Are you coming skating today?”

 

Both messages popped up at almost the same time.

 

…: “I’m coming, but I didn’t bring my skates.”

 

She had learned to skate for the school celebration performance. But she didn’t end up performing that routine. After giving the laces to Yu Wei yesterday, she’d brought the skates to the courtyard—they were still in Yu Wei’s room.

 

Yu Wei: “I’ll go get them.”
Yu Wei: “Wait for me.”

 

Yu Wei exited the gym immediately after sending the message and called a car to rush home.

 

There was a DUI checkpoint, and traffic was congested. Yu Wei scrolled through their chat, opened the ZIP file, and unzipped it.

 

The first photo that popped up was a candid of her carrying Yu Wei onto the stage. Yu Wei was startled, head tilted back, mouth slightly open, her pale leg dangling from under the dark green dress, toes tense.

 

So cute.

 

There were more pictures from the skating performance—one of Yu Wei standing at the center of the rink as Yu Wei passed by, their movements like mirror images. The red rose on Yu Wei’s outfit contrasted beautifully with Yu Wei’s green dress.

 

Art.

 

There was also a photo capturing Yu Wei mid-jump. The camera hadn’t focused on her but had instead caught Yu Wei in the background, looking up clearly.

 

Professional.

 

Yu Wei browsed through the images. Whenever she found ones with Yu Wei in the frame, she saved them individually, zooming in to admire them.

 

There weren’t many, so even after going through all of them, she felt unsatisfied. She decided to search the forum for more hidden gems.

 

Most top posts were discussing the performances—some general threads, others focused on certain classes or individuals, and many were confessions. She scrolled past them indifferently and finally found a post.

 

The title didn’t mention either of their names directly. It just used their initials:

 

#Double YW Photo Warning! If you know, you know! Screaming loudly, everyone!#

 

Yu Wei didn’t really understand the title, but when she clicked in and scrolled, most of the images were “candid shots” of her and Yu Wei. Some taken by the original poster, some credited from other places—many were from the ZIP file.

 

So Yu Wei saved the pictures from this thread?

 

She kept scrolling. The comments gradually shifted focus toward her and Yu Wei.

 

#70: “Same class, similar names—if that’s not fate, what is?”
#71: “I’ve seen them go to and from school together often. Also heard one of them got injured recently and the other was helping her walk!”
#72: “Helping? That was carrying.”
#75: “Has anyone noticed how they kind of look alike? One’s soft and sweet with round eyes, the other is sharper, but there’s something in their expressions that feels similar.”
#77: ”It’s normal—best friends who hang out a lot tend to subconsciously mirror each other.”
#78: “You better be saying ‘best friends.’”

 

Yu Wei touched her own face. In truth, Yu Wei looked more like her mom—gentle and determined.

 

She didn’t.

 

#90: “I’m thriving off this ship—balance restored!”
#91: “I’m talking friendship, okay? The performance was amazing. Someone recorded it—link here!”
#99: “Bookmarked! Long-lasting! I don’t care—I ship this CP, my words are law!”
#100: “I’m not gay—I just love soft little cuties like her. Mature, cool big sis types like the other are also great. Again, I’m not gay, but I want a fanfic with this combo. Crying and cooking.”
#101: “You better be talking about actual cooking.”
#102: “This is the school forum. It’s anonymous, but be careful.”

 

#135: “Here’s a masterpost link—tons of categorized fanfics and comics, free and paid.”

 

Yu Wei screenshotted all the comments praising how well she and Yu Wei matched. After that, most of the thread turned to cryptic lingo she couldn’t understand.

 

She clicked the link. Sure enough, there were categories like Fluff, NSFW, Cool Older Girl, Cute Girl…

 

Confused, she clicked around. A moment later, she exited—shocked and expressionless.

 

Just the thought that Yu Wei might’ve saved pictures from this thread made a hot rush rise from her chest, all the way to her face.

 

Outside the car window, flickering lights danced across Yu Wei’s face. Her phone screen had gone dark. It hung in her hand, limp against her knee.

 

The front windows were cracked open. Damp air blew in, but she still felt hot. She unzipped her jacket and leaned back, eyes closed.

 

The moment she shut her eyes, last night’s blurry dream returned vividly.

 

Yu Wei snapped her eyes open, rolled down the other window, and let out a dry breath.

 

“It’s probably gonna pour tonight,” the driver muttered.

 

Yu Wei didn’t reply. The wind rolled over her damp skin. Her racing heart gradually calmed.

 

The rain began to fall just as she entered the neighborhood.

 

Not heavy—just a drizzle—but each drop was cold. By the time she got upstairs, her shoulders were slightly damp.

 

The wind had blown the hallway windows open. She entered and pulled her key from her pocket, but before inserting it, she heard muffled movement from inside.

 

The moment she opened the door, a warm light spilled out.

 

Ding Qing was home.

 

The place was clean, just like she had left it. Ding Qing had taken off her jacket and hung it properly by the door. Her suitcase stood beside it, unopened.

 

She was currently drying her hair with a towel in the living room. The television was on, playing a rerun of the evening celebration broadcast.

 

Upon seeing her enter, Ding Qing froze for a moment. Then she smiled faintly, “You’re back.”

 

Yu Wei gave a soft “Mm.”

 

“Eat yet?” Ding Qing asked.

 

“Not yet,” Yu Wei replied. “You?”

 

“Just got back not long ago. Was about to order something.”

 

“Want to go out and eat instead?”

 

Ding Qing looked surprised, then set down the towel and gave her a long look. “…Sure.”

 

They found a small restaurant nearby and sat in a corner booth. Ding Qing ordered a few dishes she remembered Yu Wei liked and poured her a cup of warm tea.

 

For a while, they didn’t speak.

 

Yu Wei stared at the steam rising from the cup.

 

She had been looking forward to Ding Qing’s return—had even stayed home all day waiting—but now that she was right here across from her, Yu Wei didn’t know what to say.

 

“You’ve grown taller,” Ding Qing said suddenly.

 

Yu Wei looked up.

 

“Your coat sleeves. A little short now.”

 

Yu Wei glanced down and realized it too. Her wrists were indeed exposed.

 

Ding Qing smiled faintly. “I’ll take you to buy new clothes later this weekend.”

 

Yu Wei didn’t respond. She suddenly remembered the feeling of being lifted up yesterday—of Yu Wei holding her effortlessly, of the wind brushing past her face as she was carried across the stage.

 

That moment had felt warm. Steady. Safe.

 

“Did something happen at school?” Ding Qing asked gently.

 

Yu Wei looked up. “…No.”

 

Ding Qing didn’t press. She changed the subject instead. “Do you want to come with me when I go abroad next month?”

 

Yu Wei was startled.

 

Ding Qing added, “Just for a short while. Half a month or so. You can take a break after exams. It’s your winter holiday.”

 

“…Okay,” Yu Wei said.

 

Ding Qing gave a small nod and picked up her chopsticks. “Eat.”

 

The rain had gotten heavier.

 

They finished dinner, and Ding Qing drove them home.

 

On the way back, Yu Wei looked out the window at the city blurred by rain. Her phone buzzed quietly.

 

A new message from Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei: “You home?”

 

Yu Wei hesitated for a moment, then replied: “Just got back.”

 

There was a pause, then:

 

Yu Wei: “Come skate?”

 

Yu Wei turned her head slightly and looked at Ding Qing. “…I’m going out for a bit.”

 

Ding Qing was parking the car. “So late?”

 

“…Just skating. Won’t be long.”

 

Ding Qing seemed to want to say more but eventually nodded. “Take an umbrella.”

 

When Yu Wei arrived at the skating rink, Yu Wei was already there, leaning against the railing.

 

It was late, and the lights were dim. Most of the crowd had already dispersed. The rink was quiet, and the music had stopped.

 

Yu Wei glanced up as Yu Wei approached and smiled faintly. “You really came.”

 

“…I said I would,” Yu Wei replied.

 

Yu Wei handed her skates to her. “Didn’t lace them up for you this time.”

 

“That’s fine.”

 

Yu Wei sat on the bench and began to put them on.

 

The other girl crouched beside her, resting her chin on her knees, quietly watching.

 

Once she was done, they stepped onto the rink together.

 

Neither of them spoke much. Their blades made soft scraping sounds against the smooth surface, echoing faintly.

 

The rain tapped lightly on the rink’s roof.

 

After a while, Yu Wei stopped in the center and turned toward her. “I saw the forum post.”

 

Yu Wei paused, heart skipping a beat. “…Which one?”

 

“The one with our pictures.”

 

Yu Wei’s lips moved, but nothing came out. After a moment, she managed, “You were the one who downloaded it?”

 

Yu Wei smiled. “Yeah.”

 

Yu Wei stared at her. “Why?”

 

Yu Wei didn’t answer immediately.

 

She skated a little closer. Close enough that their hands brushed.

 

Then she whispered, “Because I wanted to save every picture that had you in it.”

 

Yu Wei’s heart thudded.

 

Yu Wei leaned in, just enough for their foreheads to touch.

 

“Don’t bite anymore,” she murmured.

 

Yu Wei blinked. “What?”

 

“I mean…” Yu Wei’s voice was low, almost teasing, “if you keep biting your lip like that, I might start thinking you like me.”

 

Yu Wei didn’t move. Her breath caught.

 

The girl in front of her didn’t move either.

 

But the moment stretched out—long, warm, electric.

 

Yu Wei was the first to lean forward.

 

She wrapped her arms around Yu Wei’s waist, pulled her closer, and pressed her face into the other girl’s shoulder.

 

“…I really like it,” she said.

 

The rain fell steadily outside.

 

And inside, two figures stood quietly in the middle of the rink. Wrapped in warmth. And something unspoken.

 

No more waiting.
No more wondering.

 

Just this moment.

 

Just them.