Chapter 73 Part 2

Yue Bai let out a muffled laugh. She loved hearing that. Extremely tsundere, she wriggled out of Sang Wan’s arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Sang Wan said.

“Tch.” Yue Bai turned her head away in dissatisfaction. “If you’d told me beforehand, I’d have been even more excited and happier.”

Sang Wan chuckled softly. “Wasn’t the waiting part fun too?”

“Yeah.” Yue Bai nodded vigorously.

She could count down the minutes, watching the time draw nearer, her anticipation building to the max.

It was like the New Year—the best part was all the preparation beforehand.

“Got it. Next time, I’ll give you a heads-up, okay?” Sang Wan’s gaze was full of indulgence as she turned on the room lights. All the lamps flickered to life, and the sudden brightness made Yue Bai squint uncomfortably.

“Have you been crying?” Sang Wan paused slightly. Yue Bai’s eyes were rimmed with a faint red that could easily be overlooked if you weren’t looking closely.

Yue Bai’s expression tensed. It was from the tears brought on by dry heaving outside the café and the redness that hadn’t fully faded from holding back sobs in the taxi while berating herself for being softhearted.

“No, my eyes got irritated by the wind while I was out sketching, and I rubbed them,” Yue Bai said quickly, coming up with an excuse.

Sang Wan’s expression didn’t change. She slowly reached out and caressed Yue Bai’s cheek. “Little Bai, you’re really terrible at lying.”

“Senior Sister, I…” Yue Bai hurried to explain.

Sang Wan pressed a finger to her lips, silencing the rest of her words.

“You went to B University?” Sang Wan’s tone was calm.

Yue Bai’s pupils contracted. How did Senior Sister know?

Sang Wan saw right through her thoughts and reminded her leisurely, “Sang Lin is my little brother. Do you think he’d keep it from me?”

She didn’t mention Wen Mo.

Yue Bai’s eyes widened. “I told him not to say anything to you.”

Sang Wan tenderly kissed her puffy eyelids. “Why did you go to B University?”

Yue Bai pressed her lips together and said nothing. She didn’t want to reopen Senior Sister’s wounds.

“Were you looking for Li Yi?” Sang Wan said calmly, naming her.

Yue Bai’s arms tensed tightly. She gave a weak “mm-hmm.”

“You know about it now?” Sang Wan asked again.

“Yeah.” Yue Bai’s back pressed against the wall as she nodded with difficulty. Then she quickly tilted her head up, her big watery eyes looking at Sang Wan, conveying her stance. “I didn’t go to Li Yi to verify if you did it. I’ve always believed you, Senior Sister. I went to ask her why she did that.”

Sang Wan looked at her. Those bright, captivating eyes blinked, her lashes trembling.

“Heh.” Sang Wan let out a soft laugh, her emotions unreadable.

Yue Bai froze in fear. She grabbed Sang Wan’s hands tightly, her eyes chaotic with panic. She was terrified Sang Wan would misunderstand her intentions.

“Senior Sister, I really just wanted to ask Li Yi why she did it,” Yue Bai explained.

Sang Wan glanced at her and slipped her pale, slender hand free from Yue Bai’s grasp.

“Senior Sister.” Yue Bai’s heart panicked even more.

But in the next breath, she was yanked back into that warm embrace, her head pressed against the other’s chest.

Sang Wan’s hand on Yue Bai’s head gripped tightly. “I know.”

Her eyelids drooped slightly, her tone flat as if recounting something unrelated to her. But only she knew the emotions hidden in those words. “Little Bai, I’m so grateful I met you.”

How lucky did she have to be to meet someone who trusted her unconditionally?

“Senior Sister?” Yue Bai’s voice was muffled.

Sang Wan rubbed her chin against the top of Yue Bai’s head. “Be good. Let Senior Sister hold you for a bit.”

Yue Bai stayed still.

They hugged for a full minute before Sang Wan relaxed her arms and placed her hands on Yue Bai’s shoulders. “So why were you crying? What did she say?”

Yue Bai shook her head, unsure how to respond for a moment.

After sorting through her words for a long time, she finally spoke. “Li Yi was in the hospital. I didn’t see her, but I met her friend.”

Yue Bai recalled the scene. “She told me Li Yi said those things back then because she was afraid of getting scolded by her parents… Li Yi even recorded an apology video for you…”

“Yeah,” Sang Wan said, as if she’d expected it. “I guessed as much when she said it. She didn’t want to get scolded by her parents, so she had to shift the blame. I was the only one with her at the time, so she pinned it on me.”

“Senior Sister knew?” Yue Bai was surprised. “Then why didn’t you say anything back then?”

Sang Wan replied, “I did say something, but they didn’t believe me.”

How could she not have spoken up? She had been just a half-grown kid back then, panicked in the face of something like that.

“But no one believed me,” Sang Wan said with a mocking curl of her lips. “Little Bai, do you know? At first, I really hated Li Yi for pushing the blame onto me. But as I grew up, I didn’t hate her as much anymore. She tried to contact me once, but I saw no point. What was the use of an apology after it had all happened? The best outcome for us was to go our separate ways in peace.”

“But what truly chilled me was that my own father didn’t believe me. He could jump to conclusions and assume I was the one who did it.”

In front of a crowd of onlookers, that man hadn’t given her any face at all, pointing at her nose and cursing her.

And she had stood alone in the corner, letting everyone point and whisper.

“Such a vicious heart at such a young age—what will she be like when she grows up?”

“Sigh, what a shame for the family. Such a well-behaved-looking little girl, and she does something like that.”

“…”

All those voices had nearly drowned her out.

That day, streaked with tears, she had run to her mother’s bedside and sobbed out her story.

That frail, powerless woman had mustered all her strength to lift her hand, stroking Yue Bai’s hair and wiping the tears from her eyes. A comforting smile had appeared on her pale face as she soothed the young Sang Wan. “My Little Wan is the best girl. She would never do something like that.”

Even without knowing the details, she had believed her.

And now, she had met Yue Bai—another person who believed in her without reservation.

Yue Bai listened to Sang Wan’s account, her heart aching in a way she couldn’t describe. She tried mimicking Sang Wan’s gesture, placing her palm on the other’s head and rubbing gently. “Senior Sister, I’ll always be by your side.”

Sang Wan smiled and agreed. “I’ll remember that.”

“For life,” Sang Wan added.

“Okay, for life,” Yue Bai echoed.

Sang Wan led Yue Bai to the bed and nodded at it with her chin. “Which one’s yours?”

“The left one,” Yue Bai said.

Sang Wan sat on that bed and looked straight into Yue Bai’s innocent, puzzled eyes. “But I truly gave up on Ming Qisang when I found out he was cheating. My mother was still alive then. So, Little Bai, do you know what I did to get revenge?”

“During winter break, I gathered and organized the evidence. Once Sang Lin comes of age, Ming Qisang will be kicked out of the Sang Family. He won’t get a single cent from us.”

“He’s probably sensed something and has been busy transferring assets these past few days. Too bad, my grandfather never approved of him when my mother married him. He’s squandered almost all the shared marital property over the years anyway.”

“There’s not much left for him to transfer, so he’s trying every trick to grab something from me and Little Lin. He likes playing the loving father, so I’ll play along. I’m just waiting to see his face when his dreams shatter.”

Sang Wan spoke word by word, watching the subtle changes in Yue Bai’s expression. The smile had vanished from her eyes. “So, Little Bai, I’m not as perfect as you think. I have my own hidden schemes too.”

This was the first time she had revealed this side of herself to Yue Bai—the part Yue Bai didn’t know. “Even your confession was something I planned and guided step by step. I had Hua Yun and Wen Mo put on that act in front of you to make you feel a sense of crisis. Even our first time was something I deliberately led you into.”

By the end, Sang Wan’s gaze had grown much heavier. She hadn’t planned to tell Yue Bai these things. She could have kept them buried in her heart forever.

She both anticipated and feared Yue Bai’s reaction.

Yue Bai had seen these things in that notebook.

She wasn’t surprised or shocked.

“The counselor once told me that a painting shouldn’t strive for perfection in isolated parts—it should harmonize the whole.” Yue Bai fell silent for a moment, her lips parting slightly. “But I think that if one part is captivating enough, it might make someone love the entire picture for the sake of that single detail.”

She gazed at Sang Wan with deep meaning, the confusion between her brows gradually fading. “After observing for a few classes, I’ve realized I wouldn’t fall for the whole canvas just because one element stands out so sharply. In fact, it feels like a shame—why can’t the rest of it keep pace with that one perfect section?”

Sang Wan’s fists clenched tightly in tension.

“But a painting is just a painting, and a person is a person.” Yue Bai leaned against her, her fingers caressing the spot on Sang Wan’s jaw where a small mole lay hidden beneath concealer. “I can fall completely for Senior Sister simply because it’s you—the good parts, the bad parts, I love them all.”

“It’s because it’s you that I want to understand everything and accept it all with joy.” Yue Bai hooked her arms around Sang Wan’s neck, propping herself up halfway to kiss her chin, then repeated softly, “I love all of you.”

Even if it differed from what she knew, it wouldn’t stop her from accepting and loving Sang Wan.

Sang Wan’s throat bobbed. Her anxious heart quieted at Yue Bai’s words, only to leap with exuberant joy moments later, her pulse and heartbeat fluttering in response.

Like a fish in a dried-up pond finally tasting sweet rain after a long drought, she pinched Yue Bai’s chin and kissed her fiercely. Her tongue slipped easily past the unresisting lips, eagerly drawing in the warm air from her mouth.

“Little Bai.” Sang Wan’s voice came out hoarse. She tugged at her collar, undoing one button on the black shirt beneath her jacket before reining herself in and pulling away. “You’re so good.”

“Senior Sister.” Yue Bai panted softly. “My roommate will be back any minute.”

Sang Wan caught her hand. “Guess how I got in here?”

The words brought the overlooked detail surging back to mind. Right—why was Senior Sister even here?

“I asked your counselor which room you were in, then tracked down your roommate. I told her I needed to talk to you about something, and she let me right in,” Sang Wan explained.

“She just let you in like that? Not worried about bad people? Zero caution,” Yue Bai grumbled.

Sang Wan laughed, despite being branded a “bad person.” “Does anyone in your class not know who I am?”

Yue Bai’s mouth twitched. With Sang Wan’s popularity around school, her frequent visits to their class, and that time she’d modeled for them, it was impossible not to recognize her.

“Senior Sister is way too popular,” Yue Bai said sourly. “So many people like you. I know of at least a few, even if I don’t know their names.”

Sang Wan chuckled. “If you don’t know their names, how do you know they like me?”

“I can hear people talking about you when I’m just walking down the street.” Yue Bai reached out with a proud huff, her fingertips slipping under the hem of Sang Wan’s shirt to trace the taut ridges of muscle.

Sang Wan indulged her little outburst. “Today’s life drawing session should be wrapping up soon. Your classmate will be back any second.”

She was reminding Yue Bai.

“Who cares? Can’t I touch my own girlfriend?” Yue Bai said, though her hand obediently withdrew all the same.

“You can.” Like soothing a fidgety little rabbit, Sang Wan stroked her gently, responding to Yue Bai’s earlier words. “I can’t control what other people say about me, but I can control myself. In my eyes, there’s only you.”