Unbearable - Chapter 47

Chapter 47: “It’s a bit cold.” Yu Wei rubbed her arms.

 

Quite a few classmates liked the post, and the comments were mostly polite congratulations with rows of rose emojis. Among all those short, simple messages, one suddenly stood out.

 

Cheng Miao: “Babe, I think I’m seeing things. Did I just spot the person I’ve been dreaming about—finally back in action…”

 

Yu Wei was still scrolling through the comments when a message popped up, her phone vibrating in her hand.

 

Cheng Miao: “Look at this silhouette. Doesn’t it look like Yu Wei?”

 

Attached was a cropped screenshot from the photo—a blurry figure half-covered by a cap, wearing a black tracksuit. A black mask obscured the face, so zooming in still revealed no features, only that the person was facing the camera.

 

Blurriness beyond paparazzi level—and Cheng Miao still managed to recognize her.

 

Yu Wei was impressed.

 

Cheng Miao: “Did you tell your family you want to go to the match?”

 

Cheng Miao: “What did they say?”

 

Cheng Miao: “Want me to talk to your mom? We’re doing something wholesome here, not chasing idols.”

 

…: “Still want the fan banners?”

 

Cheng Miao: “Of course!”

 

Wholesome or not, fan banners were absolutely essential!

 

Cheng Miao: “I saw so many designs in the group—yours, right? Hehe.”

 

Recently, lots of people had reached out for commissions. Whether willingly or reluctantly, Yu Wei had drawn quite a few—some delivered, some still in her drawer.

 

But Cheng Miao’s “hehe” made her feel a little guilty.

 

…: “Told my family. They didn’t object.”

 

Cheng Miao responded with three excited “Great!”s, sent a screenshot of the ticket confirmation, and followed it with a stream of hotel listings. Hotels around the venue were fully booked for the match days—the closest available ones were still several subway stops away.

 

Cheng Miao:”Let’s book this one for now. I’ll keep watching the nearby hotels. If any open up, I’ll grab one right away!”

 

Cheng Miao: “Let me show you the dolls I got—I’m planning to order more and have them delivered straight to the hotel. When the time comes, we’ll toss them together!”

 

She sent a video sweeping across a bed covered in plush dolls of all shapes and sizes.

 

She was more excited than if the match were starting tomorrow.

 

But actually, it wasn’t far off.

 

The closed training would end in half a month. After that, there would only be four or five days left. Yu Wei had said she wasn’t going home—she’d leave early with her teammates.

 

That suddenly made Yu Wei feel nervous too. In class, she kept glancing toward the desk by the window—now empty, with books stored in the compartment beneath. During self-study, some students who wanted to sneak off early or prep for a game would sit there, as if the seat belonged to no one.

 

Everyone had already gotten used to that empty desk. Other than Cheng Miao, no one really mentioned Yu Wei anymore.

 

“I found another cute doll…” Cheng Miao turned her phone toward her, but paused when she saw Yu Wei crouched under the desk, bent over, tugging at the storage bin beneath.

 

Rustle.

 

Tissues, a water bottle, test papers, and a box full of pen caps came tumbling out from the cubby, piled on top of the desk.

 

“What are you doing?” Cheng Miao stood up, staring wide-eyed as Yu Wei struggled to lift the bin.

 

“Changing seats.”

 

Yu Wei spoke while straining, her voice so soft Cheng Miao barely caught it.

 

Cheng Miao pulled out her chair and started clearing the pile, bending down to lift the bin. “Where to?”

 

Yu Wei cradled the pile of items in her arms and nodded toward Yu Wei’s old seat. “There.”

 

Cheng Miao froze for a moment, then swapped the bins. “Didn’t you say you weren’t changing? Even after the last monthly exam, you didn’t. Did you talk to Xiang-jie?”

 

The noise drew glances from the back rows. Most looked surprised for just a second, then turned away with expressions like, Oh, of course.

 

“No. I just wanted to now.”

 

Yu Wei pulled the curtain to block the light.

 

“Got it,” Cheng Miao sighed. “You held out—but couldn’t anymore.”

 

Two seconds later, she chuckled. “Congrats.”

 

Yu Wei looked up. “Same to you.”

 

After laughing, Cheng Miao sighed again, muttering, “I thought you’d gotten used to it. Guess not. Stupid people—always sitting down like that seat’s free.”

 

Everyone in class knew Yu Wei had quirks. Most assumed it was just personal preference. The last row, last seat—perfect haven for the socially anxious. And Yu Wei, the queen of social anxiety, had albinism and hated being watched. Seemed reasonable.

 

But only Yu Wei knew—it wasn’t like that.

 

The blue blackout curtain was pulled just like Yu Wei used to do. Yu Wei wasn’t as tall, so when she sat down, the windowsill hit right at her nose. The light was cut off, her arm brushing against the cold tiled wall.

 

Yu Wei always leaned against this wall…

 

Yu Wei shifted, her shoulder pressed to the wall. A chill seeped through her body. She looked up—her line of sight fell right on the desk she’d just vacated.

 

The desktop, the back of the chair—even the cubby underneath was visible.

 

No wonder.

 

No wonder every time she felt someone watching and turned around to check, Yu Wei would always be “paying attention in class.”

 

No one’s actions were faster than their eyes.

 

Yu Wei picked up her phone and took a photo of the spot, sending it to Yu Wei.

 

Yu Wei: “You’re sitting in my seat?”

 

…: “No.”

 

Yu Wei lowered her head and sent another photo.

 

…: “It’s mine now.”

 

In the photo, her porcelain-white fingers peeked out from her sleeves, pressing a pen to a test sheet. Her water bottle sat in the corner by the wall. Light edged in through the curtain, casting a slanted glow across the desk.

 

The bell rang. Students began streaming in, loud and chattering. Her phone vibrated in her palm.

 

Yu Wei: “The wall’s cold. Don’t lean on it—it’s chilly.”

 

It was cold.

 

It was sunny, but the temperature had dropped. The forecast said the season’s first snowfall might come tomorrow.

 

Their flight was the day after tomorrow. Yu Wei silently hoped—either let the snow finish tomorrow or hold off a bit longer.

 

That evening, Ding Qing came to pick her up. Sitting in the car, Yu Wei warmed up a bit before saying, “Mom, I want to request leave.”

 

“I already did,” Ding Qing replied as she drove, not even turning around. Her tone was casual. “Forgot to tell you—I spoke to your teacher. Weiwei’s already at the hotel. We’re leaving early tomorrow morning. If all goes well, we’ll arrive by noon.”

 

“Tomorrow?”

 

Ding Qing nodded. “It’s cold over there. Don’t worry about packing—I’ve arranged everything. You don’t need to bring a thing.”

 

That single sentence derailed all of Yu Wei’s plans. She messaged Cheng Miao to tell her she’d be going early and asked if she wanted to come too.

 

Cheng Miao sent back a wall of crying emojis.

 

Cheng Miao: “My mom won’t let me!”

 

Cheng Miao: “We’ll split up! You go first! We’ll meet the day after tomorrow!”

 

This was Yu Wei’s first time traveling far—and with Ding Qing, no less. Ignoring the reason behind the trip, there was a faint hint of vacation in the air.

 

She stood in front of her closet, suitcase open, completely at a loss.

 

Even though Ding Qing said not to bring anything, staring at the empty suitcase left her unsettled. She still packed two outfits and some toiletries.

 

She lifted the case, set it back down, and stuffed in the fan banner Cheng Miao gave her.

 

Lifted it again. That felt better.

 

It was a silent but exhilarating journey. Silent because Ding Qing spent the ride working or resting. Yu Wei had nothing to talk about either.

 

The excitement—well, probably from the cabin pressure after takeoff, making her heart race and ears ring.

 

That was the scientific reason.

 

There might be another explanation, but Yu Wei refused to admit it.

 

As soon as they got off the plane, someone came to pick them up, bringing a thick down jacket and wrapping it over Yu Wei’s own coat—bundling her up like a walking rice dumpling.

 

It was cold. Really cold.

 

Hat, mask, scarf, sunglasses—Yu Wei was fully armored, trailing behind Ding Qing.

 

The person picking them up seemed to be from a local branch office. They chatted about work in the car. Yu Wei, invisible in the backseat, followed them into the hotel.

 

She recognized the hotel—Cheng Miao had looked it up. It had been booked solid.

 

Ever since they got on the plane, Yu Wei had been inexplicably tense. The feeling hadn’t eased. She pushed her suitcase silently behind Ding Qing. No check-in required—they headed straight in.

 

It wasn’t until then that Yu Wei thought of a question. She licked her dry lips and asked quietly, “What section did you buy tickets for?”

 

Ding Qing paused. “There are sections?”

 

Yu Wei hadn’t attended a match before, and Ding Qing’s confident confusion made her hesitate. “I think so… it says so when buying the tickets.”

 

“Oh, that. I didn’t buy tickets,” Ding Qing said, suddenly remembering. “We’re not sitting with the crowd.”

 

Yu Wei froze. Since last night, she’d been out of it—following Ding Qing all the way north, landing here, pushing her suitcase, standing in the cozy hotel warmth. She started to feel hot, but nothing felt real.

 

“We’re family. The bureau knows—it’s no problem getting a pass. The ID badge is in my bag,” Ding Qing added cheerfully, opening her coat and pulling out her phone. “The athletes are staying here too. I’ll call Weiwei and see if she’s in the hotel.”

 

The elevator display showed they were heading to the 22nd floor.

 

No warning at all.

 

Yu Wei swallowed the chill caught in her mask. Her throat tightened. “I’ll go to the room first to drop off my luggage.”

 

“I’ve got it,” Ding Qing’s assistant said kindly, reaching for her suitcase with one hand while pushing Ding Qing’s with the other.

 

“Thanks, but I—”

 

“We’re here. Xiao Wei? She’s with me,” Ding Qing said, glancing back.

 

Yu Wei shut her mouth immediately, spine taut. She buried her chin in her scarf and fixed her gaze on the descending elevator numbers.

 

Did Yu Wei ask about her?

 

Did she ask Mom directly?

 

Ding—

 

The elevator opened—empty outside.

 

Yu Wei exhaled deeply.

 

But there was a strange, inexplicable emptiness, like she was missing something—something she didn’t dare name, stuffing it carelessly to the back of her mind.

 

The assistant led the way. Every time they passed a door, Yu Wei’s breath hitched. Eventually, she stopped looking at either side—just kept her head down.

 

“We’re here.”

 

Yu Wei turned, standing beside Ding Qing as she knocked on a door.

 

It opened instantly.

 

Yu Wei stood frozen, instinctively looking at the person who answered.

 

She’d lost weight.

 

Her cheeks were thinner. Her hair had grown a little—looked freshly washed, damp and falling over her shoulders.

 

The hotel was warm. Yu Wei wore just a short-sleeved shirt. As she pulled the door open, her arm tensed, veins standing out along the muscle, partly hidden behind the door.

 

She turned her head and looked over.

 

Ding Qing entered. The assistant took Yu Wei’s suitcase from her dazed grip and opened the door to the room across the hall.

 

Both doors stood open. Yu Wei stood in the middle.

 

“Not coming in?” Yu Wei asked.

 

“I…” Yu Wei bit her lip.

 

“It’s a bit cold.” Yu Wei rubbed her arms.

 

Yu Wei frowned, eyes skimming over those long fingers, and the dark damp patch on her chest and shoulder where her hair had soaked her shirt.

 

“Ah… right.”

 

She lowered her head and stepped in, trailing a cloud of heat so stifling it felt like she might overheat.