Unbearable - Chapter 39

Chapter 39: “Jiejie, why are you ignoring me?”

 

It rained again at night, pattering softly against the window. Though the curtains were drawn, they couldn’t muffle the sound—it seeped in wave after wave.

 

Even the sound carried the chill of early autumn.

 

Yu Wei turned to the side. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, so everything looked dark and blurry.

 

An audiobook was playing in her ear, reading: “The lights suddenly went out. A shadow flashed before her eyes. Behind her, sobs crept closer and closer…”

 

It had been a while since she used horror novels to fall asleep. Yu Wei closed her eyes and pulled the covers over her head.

 

Her eyelids felt heavy and sore, but it didn’t help—she still couldn’t sleep.

 

Not until the second half of the night, when the rain finally stopped and the audiobook had read who knows how many chapters, did she finally doze off in a haze of drowsiness.

 

…

 

The next day was still gloomy—not raining, but foggy and damp.

 

Yu Wei stood between the two bedrooms, hesitating for a few seconds before walking over to lightly knock on the door. Silence from within.

 

She turned and went downstairs.

 

The first floor was filled with the warm, fragrant smell of food. Yu Wei saw Ding Qing sitting in the dining room and tightened her grip on her backpack straps.

 

Ding Qing looked up at her. “Come eat.”

 

Yu Wei responded softly and walked over with pursed lips.

 

Breakfast was already on the table. Yu Wei set down her backpack, eyes lingering briefly on Ding Qing’s pale, puffy face before looking away. She hesitated before asking, “It’s still early. Do you want to go back to sleep for a while?”

 

Ding Qing looked up at her, eyes complicated. After a few seconds of silence, she said, “I’m taking the day off. No work.”

 

Yu Wei blinked in surprise—this was the first time Ding Qing had ever skipped work to rest.

 

But considering she was trying to repair her relationship with Yu Wei, maybe it wasn’t so surprising.

 

Yu Wei gave a small, polite smile. “You’ve been working for so many years, you really should rest. Your health is most important.”

 

She never used to get the chance to say things like that. Even if she did, Ding Qing would usually brush it off with a quick “mm.”

 

But this time, Ding Qing pushed the basket of soup dumplings toward Yu Wei and said, “I pushed all the work I could ahead. I want to stay home for a while and spend more time with you and your sister. I’ve always thought I wasn’t a terrible mother. In our social circle, most parents are like this—we hire maids, housekeepers, tutors, meet all your daily needs… But since you rejected those things, I just came home even less.”

 

Yu Wei froze for a few seconds, about to speak, but before she could, Ding Qing sighed. Her face seemed to droop—eyelids, cheeks, and all.

 

“But the truth is, I’ve always held a grudge against you.”

 

Yu Wei lowered her eyes and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Ding Qing said, her voice low and rough. She hadn’t slept a wink all night. The thoughts she’d been avoiding and wrestling with played over and over in her head.

 

To be worthy of Yu Jingcheng, she had worked herself to the bone. She’d given birth prematurely in a remote hospital, then returned to recover and raise the child. Because of Yu Wei’s albinism, she was insulted by the entire Yu family, from her appearance to her character. Until Yu Jingcheng presented a DNA test, and she was branded unfaithful.

 

So when she learned Yu Wei was switched at birth, she actually felt relief.

 

To escape that wound, she left cruelly. She deliberately ignored Yu Wei and told herself it was fine—other busy parents did the same.

 

But it was all self-deception.

 

“After finding Yu Wei, I poured all my energy into being a good mother. I wanted to know everything about her, every little detail… but I realized I know nothing about you. I thought about it all night, and the only memory that came to mind was of you as a child—bright, cheerful, saying hello to every relative on the way to the hospital, telling people you were a little princess from the fairy kingdom, and that you could turn into a rabbit.”

 

Ding Qing’s voice trembled. A sob slipped out.

 

“But later… you got quieter and quieter…”

 

Even amidst her postpartum depression and conflict with the Yu family, there had been warm, tender moments like that.

 

But she had never talked to Yu Wei about them.

 

Yu Wei gently pulled a single eustoma flower from the vase. The stem was green and fresh, the blossom a soft pinkish white. She held it in her hand and reached it out to Ding Qing.

 

“Transform, transform… into a queen,” Yu Wei said hoarsely, awkward and stiff. The flower trembled slightly in her hand as she extended it toward Ding Qing.

 

Time overlapped—childhood innocence in her now low, hesitant voice. Ten years of absence.

 

Ding Qing grasped the hand holding the flower and pulled it into an embrace.

 

Sobs echoed in Yu Wei’s ear.

 

She kept the flower raised on Ding Qing’s shoulder, and through the wet haze of emotion, she saw a figure approach the doorway—then quietly step away.

 

…

 

After breakfast, Ding Qing drove both of them to school.

 

After the rain, the trees on campus looked extra lush. A breeze rustled the branches and blew away the clouds in the sky like strands of stretched cotton candy.

 

The sky was clear and blue.

 

“Mom said she’s going to stay home for a while,” Yu Wei said, her voice tinged with joy.

 

Yu Wei glanced at her. “We’re not home that often anyway.”

 

No rush to deal with anything.

 

That’s true—Yu Wei was mostly at school or the ice rink.

 

Yu Wei stole a look at her, as if wanting to speak but stopping herself.

 

Feeling guilty?

 

Yu Wei said, “It’s fine even if she’s at home.”

 

Her voice was calm—completely lacking any hint of anticipation.

 

Yu Wei gave a soft “oh,” then after a moment added, “Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For last night. I heard it.”

 

She was eavesdropping. Yu Wei’s cheeks flushed red. She pulled up her collar and buried her chin in it.

 

Yu Wei had deliberately lowered her voice last night so Yu Wei wouldn’t hear. But apparently, it had worked out well.

 

“How are you going to thank me?” Yu Wei asked.

 

Her voice was like early autumn morning air—fresh, gently glowing with sunlight.

 

Yu Wei paused. “Anything. You name it.”

 

She sounded serious and sincere.

 

Yu Wei thought for a few seconds, then replied solemnly, “Then transform for me too.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Heat rushed up Yu Wei’s neck. She didn’t know where to look. “You heard that?”

 

Yu Wei shook her head.

 

Liar. If she didn’t hear it, why would she ask something like that? Yu Wei bit her lip.

 

“I saw it,” Yu Wei added.

 

Yu Wei: “……”

 

She stomped off, walking away in fast, short steps.

 

Yu Wei easily caught up in two strides. “Turn into a little rabbit for me. I’m ready.”

 

Yu Wei screamed inside but kept her head down, pretending she didn’t hear.

 

But Yu Wei’s legs were long, and no matter how fast Yu Wei walked, she followed easily.

 

“Okay, I won’t tease you anymore,” Yu Wei said, chuckling. She hooked her finger on the latch of Yu Wei’s backpack. “Call me jiejie.”

 

Yu Wei was pulled to a stop. She struggled a bit but couldn’t break free.

 

Standing still, she turned back, puffed her cheeks, and quietly said, “Maybe I’m the older one.”

 

Yu Wei lowered her head. Her eyes were as clear as glass, reflecting the faint blush on Yu Wei’s pale skin poking out from her collar. It was as if it had melted into her gaze.

 

“Jiejie,” Yu Wei said softly.

 

The pronunciation was clean and crisp. But strangely, it felt like something sticky and tangled slid from her eyes or mouth, wrapping around Yu Wei’s tongue—coiling and clinging.

 

Yu Wei’s tongue curled unconsciously.

 

She turned and walked off again.

 

“What’s wrong?” Yu Wei raised a brow at her flustered, hurried steps. “Did I say it badly?”

 

Yu Wei felt her mouth dry up.

 

“I’ve never had anyone call me that before.”

 

Right, it was her first time being called jiejie—and it was Yu Wei who called her. No wonder she was caught off guard. It felt weird. Totally normal.

 

Yu Wei’s wildly beating heart had just started to calm down when she heard Yu Wei respond with an “oh.”

 

“So it was good, then.”

 

Yu Wei: “……”

 

She grabbed her backpack strap and pulled it to her front, saying nothing more.

 

“Jiejie, why are you ignoring me?”

 

Yu Wei followed behind her, voice low.

 

Yu Wei felt like her heart was being scratched by a dozen kittens—unbearably flustered. “S-Stop calling me that… People will hear!”

 

Her voice was tiny.

 

Yu Wei bit her lip to keep from laughing. Seeing Yu Wei so distracted and visibly more relaxed, she decided to stop teasing.

 

But when she looked over and saw Yu Wei’s pink fingertips clutching her backpack in embarrassment, she couldn’t help but ask again, “So what if they do?”

 

So what if they heard… Yu Wei’s hand clenched, then relaxed. Actually, nothing would happen. They really were living together now, like sisters.

 

Totally reasonable. Completely normal. Nothing to be ashamed of.

 

The person who’d just been blushing moments ago suddenly looked relieved. She turned her head, raised her eyes, and let her collar drop from her nose, revealing a flushed, pink-white face glowing with warmth.

 

Her gaze was firm—like she was ready to join a political party.

 

“You’re right!”

 

Yu Wei blinked.

 

Yu Wei was confused.

 

A few seconds later, realization dawned—Yu Wei really wasn’t afraid of people talking about their relationship.

 

Yu Wei happily walked beside her, eyes shining.

 

Yu Wei had just pulled up her collar again when she noticed people glancing in their direction. She quickly moved to the side, catching a glimpse of Yu Wei’s inexplicably joyful expression. Her features were stunningly bright and vivid.

 

Almost aggressively pretty—but her deep eyes turned soft when they met hers.

 

“What is it?”

 

Yu Wei pursed her lips.

 

“…I didn’t finish my homework. I’ll go to class early and catch up. You take your time.”

 

Yu Wei had barely heard the last word when she saw Yu Wei clutching her bag and break into a run.

 

Not wanting people to gossip and not wanting people to stare—those weren’t contradictory.

 

It’s just that Yu Wei was too eye-catching. Yu Wei’s retreat was entirely justified.

 

…

 

At the front of the classroom, a group of students was gathered around the class monitor, who was standing on a chair, trying to hang a sticky hook on the wall.

 

“Higher—no, lower.”

 

“Too far! Back up.”

 

The monitor held a small flag, hands already sore from all the adjusting. The flag had gold lettering that read: “Best Class of the School Anniversary. Best Performance: Romeo and Juliet. Performers: Yu Wei, Yu Wei.”

 

Someone turned around and saw Yu Wei. “The star’s here! Scholar queen, come judge—where should we hang it?”

 

Yu Wei pushed up her glasses. “Anywhere’s fine.”

 

“What do you mean ‘anywhere’? This is going to stay up for two years!” The class monitor’s arms ached from holding the pose for so long. “Where’s Yu Wei?”

 

The question was asked so naturally that everyone turned to look at Yu Wei, like they all assumed she’d know.

 

Yu Wei pursed her lips. “Behind me.”

 

A chorus of “oh” followed.

 

Yu Wei sat down and hadn’t been there long when she heard someone come in.

 

The footsteps were quiet—barely audible in the noisy classroom—but before she could even process them, she was already turning to look toward the door.

 

Yu Wei stood there, one hand resting on the back of a chair.

 

She raised her eyebrows at Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei pointed forward with the pen in her hand. “They…”

 

“They’re here, they’re here.” The class monitor waved the honorary banner in his hand. “Hero, you pick a spot to hang our medal of honor.”

 

Yu Wei: “Anywhere’s fine.”

 

“Both of you with your ‘anywhere’ and ‘whatever,’ seriously.”

 

The class monitor was speechless. After gesturing around indecisively for a while, he was about to hang it up when Yu Wei asked, “Can we hang it at the back?”

 

Her eyes landed on the two names at the bottom of the banner. If they hung it in the front, Yu Wei wouldn’t be able to see it.

 

It’d be better in the back—closer, easier to read.

 

“No.”

 

Yu Wei immediately sat up straight and was the first to object. “It’d look weird hanging in the back. The front is better.”

 

No way. If they hung the banner at the back of the classroom, she could already imagine it—everyone entering the classroom would turn to look at it, and then at her.

 

Suffocating.

 

Yu Wei tugged at her collar.

 

With “whatever” and “anywhere” in disagreement, it was finally Zhong Ling, the class’s arts committee member, who made the executive decision: it would hang next to the blackboard, right where people could see it upon entering the room.

 

That settled it.

 

After finishing the task up front, Cheng Miao returned and whispered to Yu Wei, “Ding Yangze dropped out.”

 

Yu Wei was stunned for a moment and looked up toward the empty seat at the front. “Dropped out?”

 

“Yep.” Cheng Miao sat down, propped her chin on the back of the chair with one arm. “Isn’t it strange? Just a few days ago he was still preparing for the school celebration, and now he’s suddenly dropped out. He didn’t even come in this morning. His parents came to pack up his stuff. They said he applied to a school overseas and is going abroad.”

 

Yu Wei paused a few seconds, then responded with an “Oh.”

 

She wasn’t sure if this was the official explanation the school was giving, or if Ding Qing’s visit the other day had something to do with it.

 

With one seat now empty—the one near the wall—Wen Xiang immediately ordered the desk removed, and the students behind all moved forward one row.

 

Yu Wei, who had originally been sitting by the back door, also moved up. Now there was just one aisle between her and Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei glanced sideways at her. Just as Yu Wei turned to look over, she lowered her head again.

 

Now that no one was behind her, she should feel a bit more relaxed.

 

But for some reason, Yu Wei didn’t feel any different.

 

The only change was that the source of the gaze on her had shifted—from behind, to her side.

 

After the school celebration ended, all the installations set up around campus were dismantled. Overnight, it felt like a major milestone had passed.

 

Autumn had really arrived.

 

Yu Wei had thought Ding Qing’s words were just talk—maybe something like when Yu Wei first arrived: work during the day, come back home after hours. But she hadn’t expected Ding Qing to really take time off work and stay at home. Yu Wei even passed through the living room one night and saw a half-read book left on the couch titled “Immature Parents.”

 

The whole situation—and the book—were so shocking, it didn’t even feel real.

 

Yu Wei spent an entire evening processing it. The next day, she couldn’t help but send a message to Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei didn’t see it—she was having a meal with the choreographer who had just flown in. Her phone was on silent.

 

The choreographer was a foreigner who had choreographed a few of her past performances. She was a free-spirited but sensitive middle-aged woman. The moment she saw Yu Wei, she hugged her and cried for several minutes, asking how she was doing now.

 

Yu Wei hadn’t competed or performed for over a year. In this sport, there was no buffer time. One month you could be standing on the podium, the next month you might hit a growth spurt, your balance shifts from changes in height and body structure, and you’re sent crashing onto the ice, not even qualifying for the free skate.

 

And puberty couldn’t be stopped—it was inevitable.

 

Many female athletes who had once shined on the podium had fallen for this very reason. They called it “sinking into the lake.”

 

Yu Wei was now at the bottom of that lake.

 

“I’m okay,” Yu Wei said. “I’ve got a stable place to train now.”

 

“What about a coach?”

 

Yu Wei hesitated for a moment. “Figuring it out on my own.”

 

“Oh, that’s terrible.”

 

The choreographer began crying again.

 

It was terrible—not just because she didn’t have a coach, but also because her only source of information about international figure skating now came from the internet. She had no idea what state her peers were in, no comparisons, no reference points. She was trapped inside a wall with only herself.

 

Aside from relentless self-reflection and control, there was nothing she could do.

 

“Before coming, I discussed you with Jessie,” said the choreographer. “You trained briefly at her club. She’s heard about your situation and wants to know if you’d like to train there. Of course, you two can talk directly.”

 

She wrote down Jessie’s contact number and email for Yu Wei.

 

Jessie’s club was one of the top-ranked internationally, but training abroad required multiple layers of approval. Given her current situation, Yu Wei didn’t get her hopes up.

 

But she didn’t say that. After lunch, she and the choreographer headed to the team center.

 

Right now, the clubs were in charge, and the official training at the team center hadn’t started. There were very few people there.

 

Yu Wei had trained at the provincial sports school and hadn’t fully transitioned into the current club system, but she had enough connections left over from her earlier career.

 

The team director, after exchanging a few pleasantries, got right to the point. “The new policy hasn’t been officially issued yet, but at the last meeting they discussed that athletes going abroad for training would have to cover part of the cost themselves.”

 

He hesitated a few seconds and added, “You could come back to train with the team. Overseas training is too expensive, and considering your current situation…”

 

Yu Wei hadn’t competed in over a year—nearly two full seasons off the radar. The last time she appeared was just before her second growth spurt, and her condition had been very poor.

 

The compensation from her mother’s accident insurance and the team’s condolence payments couldn’t even cover a year of overseas training. If the training abroad didn’t show results, that money would go completely to waste.

 

Lowering his voice, the director tried to gently persuade her, “You’re still underage. You’ve got a long road ahead.”

 

“Please help me submit the application first,” Yu Wei said. “Thank you.”

 

When she got home, it was already late. Ding Qing and Yu Jingcheng were sitting in the living room on the first floor. As she walked in, Yu Jingcheng called out, “Yu Wei, I’m very disappointed in you. Apologize to your mother.”

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Ding Qing shot up and hissed, “Lao Yu! Who told you to say that?!”

 

Yu Wei had no interest in getting involved and turned to head for the stairs.

 

Yu Jingcheng’s brows furrowed tightly, but under Ding Qing’s glare, he finally added, “The group’s subsidiary brands can sponsor the training.”

 

After saying that, he resumed his composed tone and added, “At your birthday banquet in two months, I’m going to announce your identity. Be ready.”

 

Yu Wei’s expression remained calm as she went upstairs.

 

“What kind of attitude is that? So willful and ungrateful!” Yu Jingcheng threw the folder in his hand onto the coffee table. “Do I really have to beg her?”

 

“She didn’t say no. Isn’t that a good thing?” Ding Qing was puzzled. “Let them spend more time together. Things will improve.”

 

Yu Jingcheng said nothing, just kept a stern face.

 

Training abroad was indeed difficult right now. After a few back-and-forths via email and discussion with the team, Yu Wei switched to remote lessons instead.

 

That significantly reduced the cost.

 

Yu Wei calculated her savings. The three parties involved began working through the formalities and agreements—it would still take a while, but with the new season approaching, the online classes started early.

 

Yu Wei got a new phone and laptop and brought them to the rink each night. Ding Qing stayed home during the day and went to the rink with her at night.

 

But Ding Qing couldn’t skate, and her filming wasn’t great.

 

A few days later, Yu Wei also started going with them to help record on the ice.

 

After one set of moves, Yu Wei skated over to discuss feedback with the coaching team.

 

It was the first time Yu Wei had heard her speak in a foreign language—fluent, natural, focused. Her voice didn’t sound cold at all.

 

Ding Qing stood a few meters away, watching them from the side.

 

All three coaches were on camera and asked Yu Wei who was helping her film.

 

Yu Wei understood and started to move toward Ding Qing.

 

“My sister,” Yu Wei replied.

 

As she spoke, she glanced sideways at Yu Wei, turning the camera toward her.

 

Yu Wei quickly waved her hand in protest.

 

“You have a sister?! A real one?”

 

Only Yu Wei’s arm was in the frame when she turned it back. “No.”

 

It was the first time Yu Wei had introduced someone this way. Yu Wei peeked over at her. The laptop screen lit up Yu Wei’s face—her lightly pressed lips and slightly red ears beneath an otherwise emotionless expression.

 

“Oh, but you two seem really close.”

 

The computer was on speaker.

 

Yu Wei pressed her lips together, smiled faintly, and looked at Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei just gave a quiet “mm,” and the conversation returned to technical feedback.

 

After training, Ding Qing went to get the car. Yu Wei packed up, and the two of them walked out together.

 

The September night air was crisp, and their footsteps echoed in the empty mall.

 

Yu Wei lowered her voice and asked gently, “Is this video lesson format working okay for you?”

 

It wasn’t ideal—but better than training alone.

 

Yu Wei replied, “It’s manageable. I’ll get used to it.”

 

“Can’t you just go abroad directly?”

 

Yu Wei hadn’t come to training recently. She wanted Ding Qing and Yu Wei to spend more time together.

 

Yu Wei answered with a soft “mm.” “This works too.”

 

Yu Wei had been watching all night and didn’t think it worked that well.

 

But she didn’t say anything. After going home, she messaged Cheng Miao to ask about the obstacles to going abroad to join a club.

 

Cheng Miao: “Huge obstacles.”

 

Cheng Miao: “You’re asking about Yu Wei, right?”

 

Cheng Miao: “She can’t.”

 

Cheng Miao: “Latest insider info—overseas training now needs a three-party agreement. Costs at least 1–2 million yuan per year.”

 

Cheng Miao: “And it still needs approval from the domestic association.”

 

Cheng Miao: “If they could send her abroad, they wouldn’t have delayed her these past years.”

 

Money wasn’t the issue. It was all the red tape that Yu Wei couldn’t understand.

 

Half of September passed, and the monthly exams arrived.

 

These were more formal than weekly tests. Exam halls were assigned based on previous scores. Since this was Yu Wei’s first monthly exam, she had no past grades and was placed in the last exam room.

 

Yu Wei followed the seating list and brought Yu Wei over.

 

She let out a breath—it was her first time here too. It would’ve been awkward if she’d taken the wrong route.

 

After confirming the room, Yu Wei kept her hands in her jacket pockets and pressed on her lower abdomen. “It’s just a monthly exam. Don’t be nervous.”

 

Yu Wei frowned slightly at her abnormal lip color. “Why do I feel like you’re more nervous than me?”

 

“Am I?” Yu Wei licked her lips and didn’t deny it. “Did you bring your notes?”

 

Yu Wei nodded, eyes fixed on her.

 

“Then you still have time to review a bit before it starts.” Yu Wei, her hands hidden in the oversized school jacket, smiled and cheered her on. “I’ll go now. Text me after the exam.”

 

Yu Wei had just responded when Yu Wei waved and turned to leave.

 

She always left so decisively.

 

Yu Wei pressed her lips together. Only after the figure disappeared did she pull a small notebook from her pocket and begin reviewing.

 

Next time, absolutely, absolutely not going to an exam room so far away!

 

Those who sat in the last exam room were all legends. They always arrived last. Not long after the exam started, half the room had their heads down on their desks. Only one person was still writing furiously. Everyone around stared at her.

 

“Whoa, it really is her.”

 

“No way, isn’t she that special admit? Heard her academics are awful, and that’s why she’s testing here. What’s she even writing?”

 

“Multiple choice, probably.”

 

“You write multiple choice?”

 

The proctor tapped the podium. “Quiet.”

 

But it didn’t stay quiet for long. Whispering started again.

 

But after one period, the whispering stopped. Some students had even fallen asleep and started grinding their teeth.

 

Yu Wei finished and double-checked her answers twice. She picked up her paper and headed to the front.

 

“Hold on,” the proctor said. “Check it again.”

 

Yu Wei: “No need.”

 

The voice startled a few half-asleep students. They stared in shock as she walked out. A few even sprang up, ready to turn in their papers—only to be stopped.

 

“What are you doing? Sit back down. She’s finished. Are you?”

 

“What the hell!”

 

“No way!”

 

Yu Wei left the room and walked around to find Exam Room 1. Students there were just starting to come out. She stood outside and sent Yu Wei a message.

 

Yu Wei: “I’m here to pick you up”
Yu Wei: “By the stairs”

 

No reply for a long while.

 

Yu Wei put away her phone and walked toward the exam room. The early birds were gone, and the hallway was empty.

 

She stood outside, glanced inside—and saw Yu Wei slumped over the first desk in the front row.

 

Her forehead rested on her arm. She looked like she was sleeping, but restlessly. One hand, hidden beneath the desk in her oversized uniform, was clenched tightly over her stomach.

 

The frosted glass door rattled lightly as Yu Wei knocked.

 

The proctor walked over from the back. “Students who’ve left the exam room can’t reenter. Please don’t linger in the hallway.”

 

Yu Wei frowned, still looking at the curled-up figure. “I…”

 

She had just started to speak.

 

Yu Wei lifted her head and looked out toward the door. Her glasses were askew—she pushed them up. Through the lenses, her dazed, unfocused pink eyes slowly found Yu Wei.

 

The moment her gaze landed, Yu Wei felt it instantly.

 

Of course, it was Yu Wei.