Unbearable - Chapter 42
Chapter 42: A Secret Joy
“Don’t you think…”
Cheng Miao trailed off, glancing sideways at Yu Wei, then at Yu Wei again, clearly feeling something was off.
“Hm?” Yu Wei flipped to a new book, smoothing the pages. “Think what?”
Cheng Miao smacked her lips. “Nothing.”
It was rare for Yu Wei to make friends, and now that the two were becoming close—and were even relatives—it seemed normal they were spending more time together.
Yu Wei made a sound of acknowledgment and didn’t press further. Her mind drifted back to Yu Wei’s upcoming competition.
Yu Wei hadn’t told her anything, and she hadn’t looked up any news about Yu Wei online recently either.
“How do you know all this competition info?” Yu Wei asked after a moment. Just as Cheng Miao was about to walk off, Yu Wei grabbed her sleeve. “Send it to me on WeChat.”
After all, Yu Wei was right there. It felt awkward to talk about her in front of her.
Cheng Miao nodded eagerly, pulled out her phone, and sent a message face to face.
Cheng Miao: “There’s the official ISU platform, and domestic platforms announce it too, just a bit delayed. I’ll send you the account.”
Cheng Miao: “I wasn’t kidding when I said “see one less one.” Even hardcore fans think if she can’t fully recover this season, she’ll likely just aim to secure a spot for the national team in next year’s Olympics, then retire.”
Cheng Miao: “Given her situation—you know it too—money, connections, resources… she’s got nothing. Anyone else would’ve quit last year.”
Cheng Miao: “And she recently opened accounts on all platforms, posting the same stuff—must be part of some team promo.”
Cheng Miao: “Back when she was more popular, she never did this kind of thing.”
Yu Wei read each message carefully, then followed the link Cheng Miao sent, checking out Yu Wei’s accounts on various platforms.
The posts were nearly identical: training photos and gifs, with no captions at all.
Cheng Miao didn’t know that Yu Wei now had the Yu family backing her, and money, connections, and resources weren’t really a problem anymore. The real problem was, Yu Wei didn’t seem to accept it.
She was willing to yield and compromise in order to skate, to join the Yu family—but she wouldn’t abandon her principles. So things were stuck in a stalemate.
Online class fees, likely all covered by Yu Wei herself. With two months left before competition, the total expenses weren’t small.
Yu Wei mentally calculated how much money she’d saved from recent commissions, then messaged Yu Wei from her alt account.
Ningjing Zhiyuan: “My kid’s skating faster lately and starting jumps, but the jumps are unstable—what should I do?”
Ningjing Zhiyuan: [Transfers 5000 yuan]
She sent the message, but there was no reply from Yu Wei’s end.
Was her phone off? Or just muted?
Yu Wei, feeling like a thief, shoved her phone deep into her pocket and pressed it down firmly before finally exhaling.
That afternoon, after an exam, she hid in the bathroom and checked her phone. Yu Wei had replied.
Yu Wei: “I suggest finding a proper club and coach for in-person lessons. Solid fundamentals are key.”
Ningjing Zhiyuan: “Still considering it. Are you still coaching?”
Yu Wei: “Not anymore.”
Yu Wei: “I’m really busy lately, so I may not respond quickly. Feel free to message me if you have questions. I’ll reply when I see them. No need for the money.”
All those polite “you”s made Yu Wei uncomfortable. Her fingers hovered over the screen, unsure how to reply.
She really was busy. No more coaching at the rink, and she had even stopped answering consultations via WeChat.
Did she still have money, then?
Yu Wei left the bathroom, head down to avoid the crowded hallway, walking along the wall. As she reached the staircase, she suddenly felt a gaze fall on her.
Intense, burning, but restrained and not sharp.
She instinctively looked back. Across the dense crowd, standing against the wall not far away, was Yu Wei.
Their eyes met through shoulders and heads. Yu Wei smiled faintly.
And in that moment, all of Yu Wei’s unease vanished.
The results of the monthly exam were posted just two days later. All grade levels had updated their public ranking lists. Class A’s dominance remained, but now there was a new name that had never appeared before.
This was Yu Wei’s first major test since transferring. Her previous weekly test scores hadn’t been published, and since she didn’t interact much with others, no one had seen her papers. The teachers hadn’t said anything either.
No mention meant one thing: she was probably no good.
At least, that’s what most people assumed.
So when they saw her name in the top ten, everyone collectively gasped.
Followed by disbelief:
“Is that for real?”
“Didn’t she get in through connections?”
“She didn’t cheat, right?”
“Go ahead, try cheating into the top ten and see how that works for you.”
Crowds gathered in front of the bulletin board, those in the back on tiptoe, asking questions, “What’s everyone looking at? Who’s getting publicly executed this time?”
The board was in the center of each floor, far from Class A tucked away in the corner.
The commotion hadn’t even reached them yet when Wen Xiang brought it over herself.
There were two unwritten rules in Class A:
First, if you drop out of the top 42 in two consecutive exams—you’re out.
Second, after each monthly test, seats are reassigned based on rankings.
Higher rank, more seat choice.
The first class of the day was Chinese. Wen Xiang came early, cleared the classroom, and made everyone line up outside.
They stood in two lines—one by the wall, one by the balcony—quiet and obedient.
Wen Xiang walked up and down the middle, a name list in hand.
Small frame, big presence.
“This morning the grade-level meeting called out our class by name. Scores are dropping. Some students aren’t even in the top fifty anymore. Are you all distracted by too many activities lately, or do you just think monthly exams don’t matter and you’ll suddenly shine at the big one?”
No one dared to speak.
Yu Wei stood near the back stairwell, pulling her collar up as usual, fingers pinching the zipper near her nose.
Sunlight didn’t quite reach her.
She squinted up at Yu Wei, who was leaning on the balcony opposite her.
Morning light outlined her in gold, tracing her casual yet graceful form. She stood alone, not touching anyone.
Like a solitary star.
And Yu Wei stood right in its shadow.
She paused, then tugged her zipper down.
“Yu Wei,” Wen Xiang called her name.
Everyone was used to this and didn’t flinch.
Yu Wei walked into the classroom through the back door and sat down in her usual seat, grabbing the pen stuck in her book.
Wen Xiang was still calling names from the window.
Yu Wei drifted off for a second. A month ago, she and Yu Wei had been called into the hallway by Wen Xiang, who said after the monthly exam, seats would be rearranged.
She’d secretly thought—after the exam, she’d move to Yu Wei’s seat. Though sitting by the window wasn’t great, it was still better to have Yu Wei behind her.
As the second and third students came in, those still outside began to worry their seats might get taken. The hallway grew tense.
From Yu Wei’s angle, she could see the desk by the back door—last row, far corner. Likely no one would pick it.
“Next, Yu Wei.”
As soon as Wen Xiang read her name, gasps broke out in the hallway.
All eyes turned to her.
Yu Wei walked in unfazed, sat down, let out a subtle breath, and glanced sideways at Yu Wei.
Yu Wei smiled silently, lowered her head to write something in a notebook, tore it out, and passed it over.
Yu Wei looked at it: neatly written on the first line—“You’re amazing!”
She nearly laughed out loud.
She read it several times, then added a second line:
“Only because you taught me well, Teacher Yu is even more amazing.”
She nudged the notebook against Yu Wei’s desk.
Yu Wei turned her head and saw the line. A blush immediately spread from her ears to her cheeks. Her eyes glistened—then she ducked down, hiding her face on the desk.
She heard soft laughter from the window, blending with Wen Xiang’s authoritative tone.
A few students who had come in sat in the front; the back rows remained empty. Most students were still outside, peeking in through the windows.
“What are you looking at? Don’t like it?” Wen Xiang barked. “Yu Wei just transferred a month ago. She was behind in several subjects, but she stayed focused and caught up. Look at yourselves—restless and distracted. Whether it’s college entrance exams or applying abroad, grades matter.”
The gifted kids in the advanced class all stared at Yu Wei, eyes shining.
Yu Wei gave them a glance, then turned back without expression.
Wen Xiang sighed, feeling both proud and worried. She used Yu Wei as motivation, but didn’t want her to be isolated either. So she added:
“Stop gawking. Yu Wei already has a special recruitment spot in the National Sports Academy’s championship program. She’s not even in the same lane as you, and she still hasn’t given up on academics. Take a page out of her book.”
Yu Wei looked over again and saw Yu Wei’s awkward expression as she tried to keep a straight face under all the praise. She couldn’t help but smile silently.
Half the class was spent rearranging seats. The rest was used to go over the test. Since everyone switched desks, your test might end up with someone else—and vice versa.
It wasn’t until the end of class that the big move started. In this elite class, people moved desks with them. You could change locations, but not desks. So it was a full migration—students and desks both.
Cheng Miao managed to keep her desk and came back to life. She turned around, excited: “Nailed it! My rank didn’t drop—it went up! Worth celebrating!”
At the mention of celebration, she jumped up and declared it.
After school—they’d go to the same spot as last time.
This time, Yu Wei didn’t plan to go. But everyone wanted to invite Yu Wei. And knowing she probably wouldn’t go, they figured: why not drag Yu Wei along?
“If you’ve got time, you gotta go out and enjoy yourself. Can’t just live between school and home. You’re seventeen, eighteen—that’s the time to live it up. You only get to be this age once.”
Cheng Miao carried Yu Wei’s bag, chattering nonstop. Yu Wei wasn’t the type to interrupt, so she just let her go on.
By the time she finished, they’d already left the classroom and walked halfway across campus.
Yu Wei’s phone lit up in her pocket. She took it out to look.
Yu Wei: “Go have fun.”
Yu Wei: “No drinking. No cold drinks. I have something to tell you tonight when you’re back.”
Yu Wei was in the middle of the group. No one gave her weird looks—everyone was chatting about grilled skewers and how the meat tastes better wrapped in flatbread.
Someone mentioned, “Physics competition finals are next month. Isn’t the school giving extra prep?”
“Competition?” Cheng Miao yelled, turning to Yu Wei. “Girl, you know me—I’m dumb as bricks. I never keep track of competition stuff. You’re definitely making it to the finals, and I dragged you out to party? My bad! I’ll take you home now!”
Yu Wei chuckled, put her phone away. “It’s fine.”
“Really?” Cheng Miao blinked her wide, innocent eyes. “I’m not the stone in your path to success, am I?”
“How could you be?” Yu Wei shook her head, still smiling. “One day off doesn’t matter.”
Fat Liang, on Cheng Miao’s other side, silently gave her a big thumbs up.
Then the whole group walking beside them gave her a collective thumbs up too. “Respect!”
Yu Wei: “……”
Well, now it felt real.
“Honestly, there are only two people in our class I admire. Too bad the other one didn’t come,” Zhong Ling sighed. But she wasn’t giving up. She leaned over to Yu Wei. “Why don’t you message Yu Wei? If you ask, she’ll definitely come.”
Before Yu Wei could say anything, everyone nodded in agreement.
“Totally. You two are like one person.”
“No, we’re not,” Yu Wei denied softly.
But deep down, a warm joy bloomed—everyone knew she and Yu Wei were close, but no one knew they lived together now, like sisters.
It was a secret kind of joy, like a squirrel hiding away chestnuts for winter.