Unbearable - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“I didn’t want to compete, and I wasn’t pretending.”

The voice was close—sounded like it came from the staircase.

Yu Wei opened the door and glanced outside, only to find the hallway light had been turned off. The old, sluggish voice-activated system clearly hadn’t registered someone had passed by—everything was steeped in darkness.

Only a faint light glowed at the end of the hallway where the stairs were.

The voices came from over there.

“Is it really necessary to go?” Ding Qing’s anxious voice rose a little.

“Yes,” Yu Wei’s tone was flat and low, but there was a cold impatience laced through it.

“I’ll take you then, I’ll go with you,” Ding Qing said eagerly.

Having her daughter back had made her cautious and desperate—her emotions always teetered on the edge—but in front of Yu Wei, she forced those cracks shut.

“I don’t like being accompanied by strangers.”

Yu Wei’s voice wasn’t loud, but it echoed in Yu Wei’s ears—blunt and wounding.

Ding Qing was stabbed into silence, unable to say a word as tears spilled again.

“I’ll go with her,” Yu Wei said as she walked down the stairs in her school uniform, a black baseball cap on her head. Her voice cut through the tension as she approached Yu Wei. “Mom and Dad both have work tomorrow, and it’s so late. If you go to the training session with her, she’ll feel uncomfortable.”

Yu Wei frowned.

Ding Qing looked at her with hope in her eyes but gradually sank into disappointment. Exhausted and pale, she pressed her lips together.

Yu Wei had just gently advised her hours ago, so she restrained her agitation, breathing quickly.

Yu Jingcheng placed a hand on Ding Qing’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and nodded. “I’ll have Li Yu drive you both.”

Ding Qing’s eyes were still moist, fixed intensely on Yu Wei. She told Yu Wei, “Take your phone.”

Yu Wei paused. “I brought it.”

She turned her head, and Yu Wei had already reached the door.

Her rejection was clear and unfiltered, carrying a kind of indifferent detachment.

Ding Qing began sobbing again, and Yu Jingcheng helped her back to the bedroom.

Li Yu arrived quickly. He didn’t ask or look, just drove.

Yu Wei and Yu Wei sat on opposite sides of the backseat, silent.

Yu Wei wanted to ask why she had stood outside her door earlier, but when she glanced over, she saw Yu Wei wearing earphones and looking down at her phone, completely absorbed. The question caught in her throat.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket—Ding Qing was video calling.

Yu Wei didn’t answer.

In the confined space, the phone’s buzzing sounded like it had an amplifier. Just as Yu Wei moved slightly, Yu Wei immediately locked the screen and cupped it with both hands.

But Yu Wei only shifted a little and didn’t even look over.

Awkward.

Yu Wei raised the phone to look at the auto-disconnected WeChat screen. She was just about to type a message when another video call popped up.

Yu Wei took off one earbud and turned to glance at her.

Yu Wei: “…”

Knowing Ding Qing, there was no way she could ignore this call—but she also couldn’t just answer it like this.

Her gaze fell on the earbud pinched between Yu Wei’s fingers. She tested the waters: “Are you still using that?”

Yu Wei raised an eyebrow.

Yu Wei bit her lip and pressed on, “Could I borrow it? Just for a moment?”

As soon as she asked, she regretted it. She’d even braced herself to be rejected. Heat crept from her neck up to her face, and she quickly looked away. “If not, it’s… fine…”

Yu Wei silently placed the earbud between them and went back to watching her phone.

The screen reflected shifting light across her face. She was watching a video—but it was muted.

“Thanks,” Yu Wei quickly picked it up and synced it just in time. Ding Qing’s furious voice came through the earbud, “Why did you take so long to answer? I want to see Xiao Wei!”

Hearing the name with such similar pronunciation fall from Ding Qing’s mouth made Yu Wei momentarily dazed.

She didn’t speak. Under Ding Qing’s repeated urging, she quickly turned the phone to the side, catching Yu Wei’s profile on camera for just a second before pulling it back.

Yu Wei’s fingers tightened nervously, heart pounding.

Ding Qing was briefly pacified but soon dissatisfied again. “Turn the phone back around.”

Yu Wei pressed her lips together, brows furrowing slightly off-camera.

“Calm down, Ah Qing,” Yu Jingcheng tried to soothe her. “You’ll scare her like this. If she realizes, she’ll only push you further away.”

Ding Qing turned and shouted, “What are you talking about?! How could my daughter push me away?!”

Her voice pierced Yu Wei’s ears and drilled into her brain like a shrill buzz. All she could see was Ding Qing crying and ranting—she couldn’t hear a word of it.

She lowered the volume even more, turned the phone horizontal, and held it up with both hands in front of her face, pretending to watch a movie.

The rear camera captured the front seats and Ding Qing’s anxious expression.

They stayed on that silent video call until the car stopped outside the mall.

The Yu family owned part of the mall, which had an ice rink inside. It was already past midnight—everything was dark.

Yu Wei got out of the car and walked ahead without a word.

It was late, the street deserted.

The night wind was cool. Yu Wei watched Yu Wei’s figure appear on screen, accompanied by Ding Qing’s frantic voice.

Yu Wei had gone inside.

Yu Wei slowed down, let out a breath, and stopped in the shadows.

“Get closer.”

Yu Wei glanced at the phone. Ding Qing’s face was flushed with urgency. Yu Wei stepped forward a few paces.

In the darkness, only the rink lights were on, illuminating a lone figure on the edge of the ice.

Yu Wei was warming up, her jump rope slapping the ground with increasing speed until it blurred.

Then she stretched and activated her muscles, then sat down to put on skates.

Shhh—shhh—shhh—

Her blades cut across the ice, leaving long, thin streaks. She moved fast, wind lifting her hair and revealing her whole face.

So different from the moody, sullen girl at home or in class—now she radiated a fierce vitality.

Yu Wei couldn’t help but walk closer.

Yu Wei’s slender figure shot across the ice like a black swallow over a winter lake, spinning rapidly in midair, cutting a stunning arc—then thud, crashing heavily onto the ice.

Yu Wei’s heart clenched, and she gasped.

The sound echoed through the empty mall.

Ding Qing’s shrill scream burst through the earbud, but Yu Wei didn’t even look down—her eyes were locked on Yu Wei.

Yu Wei was dragged by momentum across the ice, then stopped. She grabbed her waist, pulled herself up, and shook the ice from her hair, glancing toward the sound.

Her dark, sharp eyes peeked through the strands.

Yu Wei stood outside the rink barrier, loosely holding her phone so the camera still pointed toward the skater.

Stray hair clung to Yu Wei’s damp forehead. She ran a gloved hand through it, gathering it at the top of her head, revealing her sharp, elegant features.

The rink lights weren’t fully on—patches of brightness lit up her pale skin, making her look like a vivid ink painting.

She turned her back, then faced forward again. Her blades sliced through the ice—shhh shhh.

A blur flashed across Yu Wei’s vision, the wind brushing her face.

So cold.

Her eyes followed that blur, not missing a moment, watching her take flight again—then fall.

Yu Wei’s hand shook. The figure vanished from the screen, replaced by a white stretch of ice.

A voice shrieked in her ear. “Where is she?!”

“Sorry—she was too fast, I couldn’t keep up.”

Yu Wei’s heart thudded in her chest as she watched Yu Wei get up. Then she tilted the camera toward her again.

Yu Wei returned to where she’d fallen, jumping again.

Fall after fall—like she couldn’t feel pain. She just got up and kept going. The fifth time, she finally landed perfectly—like a bird alighting on the surface of a lake.

Yu Wei’s held breath finally released, the cold air burning as it filled her lungs.

Yu Wei skated a while longer, then jumped in a different spot.

Her hair whipped in the wind, her eyes full of desperate focus. She flew, blades slicing the ice, and soared upward.

Yu Wei looked up, breath forgotten.

Boom—

Her heart skipped a beat.

Screams exploded in her ear. She winced and lowered the phone, slipping out the earbud.

Yu Wei lay like a bird with broken wings—isolated, desperate, a heavy, tragic crash right in front of her.

Ding Qing’s cries rang out from the earbud. “Make her stop skating!”

Side fall. Hip smashed onto the ice.

She collapsed, unmoving for a long time, chest heaving.

Yu Wei panicked. She stepped over the barrier, wobbling onto the ice, and bent down to offer a hand.

Pale fingertips hung limp in front of her.

Yu Wei looked up, eyes sunken, a dark crease under her lid. Her deep, ink-black eyes were icy cold.

Yu Wei withdrew her hand, fingers curling into her sleeve. “Are you okay? Should we go to the hospital? I…”

“I’m not interested in fighting with you,” Yu Wei said flatly. Her gaze dropped to the phone in Yu Wei’s hand. “You don’t need to pretend we’re sisters. And I don’t go by that Yu surname. Stop wasting your energy.”

She’d found out.

Yu Wei’s face instantly lost all warmth. Her hand clenched around the phone, pressing the mic shut—but after a few seconds, she remembered she was using earbuds.

There was no more sound from Ding Qing.

Yu Wei pushed herself off the ice, brushed off the shards, hand still on her hip. She stumbled a few steps and skated away.

Yu Wei lowered her head, looking at the now-black screen. She pressed it twice—no response.

Probably dead—still warm in her palm.

Around her was silent and dark. Only the center of the rink was lit, shining on the lone figure dragging herself across the ice.

“I didn’t want to compete, and I wasn’t pretending.” Yu Wei’s voice was very soft. “I just…”

She bit her lip.

Yu Wei turned around, staring at the girl in the oversized school uniform by the rink, her shadow stretched long behind her by the light. She stood there awkwardly, head down.

Expression unreadable.

Like a lost little snail, not knowing where to go.