Chapter 37: Heart Moves: Day 17

This winter break, Jiang Wan didn’t idle around at all.

The teacher who instructed her in ballet sent her a message. The renowned domestic ballerina Huai Guping—Teacher Huai—had been invited to serve as an instructor at a ballet training camp in W City.

With such a prestigious teacher overseeing it, ballet enthusiasts from across the country were desperate to snag a spot in the camp.

Jiang Wan got lucky. Her own teacher might not be famous, but she had wide connections and some ties to the camp organizers. Plus, Jiang Wan was talented in her own right—a real standout, even. So she secured her place without much hassle.

The training was short, just ten days, but since it featured an artist Jiang Wan greatly admired, she was thrilled at the prospect of receiving pointers from Teacher Huai.

W City was quite a distance from Ning City, so Jiang Wan had to fly there.

This was her first time traveling so far on her own. Mother Jiang was terribly worried, but with her frail constitution, motion sickness, and inability to handle long bumpy rides, all she could do was repeat her warnings over and over.

Jiang Wan listened patiently, nodding from time to time without complaint.

“Wanwan, remember to bring back some local specialties when you return,” Guanguan said, gazing at her hopefully. “I’ve seen videos, and their jingao (steamed rice cake) looks so delicious. It always makes me hungry.”

“Sure thing. I’ll bring you a big bag,” Jiang Wan replied with an amused poke to the girl’s forehead.

“Heehee, Wanwan’s the best.” Guanguan clutched her forehead, grinning like a fool.

“Little Wan, be careful on the road. Don’t talk to strangers,” Mother Jiang said, gripping her daughter’s hand, her eyes brimming with a mother’s pure concern.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore. I’ll call you as soon as I board the plane. Besides, Teacher Huai’s already in W City. Doesn’t that put your mind at ease?”

Mother Jiang considered it and nodded. “Fair enough. It’s getting late—head on in.”

Jiang Wan nodded, double-checked her luggage to make sure everything was in order, said goodbye to her mother and Guanguan, then turned and headed for security.

Once past security, however, she stopped in her tracks and glanced around, as if searching for something.

“What’s wrong? Forget something?” Guanguan called from beyond the barrier, craning her neck.

Jiang Wan shook her head with a smile, signaling that it was fine. Still, she couldn’t help scanning the area. After a moment, she came up empty.

With a sigh, she started to look away—only for her peripheral vision to catch a familiar figure.

The person stood in an unobtrusive corner, hooded black sweatshirt pulled over their head, mask covering their face. Only a pair of deep, dark eyes were visible.

As if caught off guard that Jiang Wan had spotted them, the figure hastily turned away, tugging their hood even lower.

It was the very picture of someone protesting too much.

Jiang Wan’s lips curved into a smile, delight blooming in her eyes until it overflowed.

Her mood lifted in an instant, like she’d just eaten a handful of lemon candies.

Meanwhile, Bei Huai pressed her fingers to her temple and watched the girl’s retreating back grow smaller and smaller. Even she had to admit she’d been made.

Sure enough, her phone rang the next second.

She took a deep breath and answered calmly. “Hello.”

“Little Bei, I saw you,” came the girl’s jubilant voice. She really did sound thrilled.

Bei Huai kept a straight face. “You saw wrong.”

A soft laugh floated from the other end.

Even through the phone, Bei Huai felt a tickle in her ear, as if someone were leaning close and breathing on her neck. Half her neck went numb.

“I’m off now.”

Bei Huai licked her lips. “Mm.”

After a pause, she looked toward the direction the girl had gone. “Safe travels.”

Jiang Wan hung up and scrolled through her chat history with Bei Huai, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Ever since they’d parted at the hospital that day, their contact had dwindled. She could sense Bei Huai was deliberately keeping her distance, though she had no idea why. Still, Jiang Wan figured Bei Huai must have her reasons.

She was willing to give her time—to adjust, to sort herself out.

But not too much time.

Two days ago, she’d mentioned the trip to W City.

Little Bei had turned her down flat over WeChat, claiming she was busy, that she had things to do, and wouldn’t be seeing her off.

Truth be told, Jiang Wan hadn’t minded much. It wasn’t like she was moving to W City permanently—just a ten-day stay.

Still, when the time came to leave and there was no sign of Bei Huai, a tiny pang of disappointment had tugged at her heart.

So when she finally spotted her, she was truly, genuinely happy.

That said, since Little Bei insisted it wasn’t her, Jiang Wan would humor her pride and let the little white lie slide.

~~~

All around was pitch black, without a trace of light.

The metallic tang of blood mingled with the stench of damp earth, assaulting her nostrils, along with other indescribable odors that nearly turned her stomach.

Jiang Wan felt as if something heavy were pressing down on her, crushing her chest and making it hard to breathe.

Her body ached all over, the pain so intense it had gone numb.

Where… was this? Another… dream?

Her mind was foggy, but she could still clearly sense the warmth draining from her body bit by bit.

So cold. So painful.

“Little Bei…” She heard her own voice murmuring the name.

“I’m here.”

The response came back weak but resolute.

It was Bei Huai’s voice.

“Little Bei, are we going to die?” she asked in a whisper. She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for so long that her body was utterly spent, teetering on the edge of collapse.

“No, trust me, okay?” Bei Huai’s voice was soft and gentle—a rare tenderness that Jiang Wan seldom heard from her.

The metallic tang of blood grew thicker in her nostrils.

“I’m sorry, Little Bei. It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have gotten caught in the earthquake…”

“Be good. Don’t say silly things.”

She heard a faint rustling sound, and then a hand slowly clasped her fingers.

A hand just as cold as her own.

“What a shame. In the end, I never managed to win your heart.” She wanted to laugh, to mock herself like she used to, but her face was frozen stiff. She couldn’t even twitch her lips.

The hand holding hers tightened suddenly. “Once we get out of here, let’s be together.”

“Really? You… you can’t lie to me.” Her voice was fading, growing fainter.

“I would never lie to you.”

“That’s wonderful… Little Bei, I’m so sleepy. I just want to sleep…”

Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. She had no strength left—not even enough to speak.

She was so tired. She wanted nothing more than to sleep.

“Wanwan, Wanwan, don’t sleep. Talk to me, please?” Bei Huai’s voice turned frantic.

“But… I’m so sleepy…”

A voice seemed to echo in her ear, urging her on: Sleep. Just sleep. Once you’re asleep, you won’t feel the cold anymore. You won’t feel the pain.

“Don’t sleep, Wanwan! Wanwan!”

Bei Huai’s desperate calls rang in her ears as Jiang Wan’s consciousness flickered in and out. She felt like she was lying on the edge of a cliff, teetering between falling and holding on. One side was the world of the living; the other was hell—or perhaps heaven.

She had no idea how much time passed. An hour? Two? A whole day?

When the weight pressing down on her was suddenly lifted away, the world flooded with light.

It was so bright that she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut.

“Quick, we need another person over here! We’ve got a critical injury!”

Before her eyes could fully adjust, she forced them open and anxiously scanned toward the voice.

A woman lay sprawled in the rubble, two steel rebars piercing straight through her back. Blood soaked everything around her.

Her face was ghostly pale, her eyes tightly shut. She looked… just like she was dead.

“Little Bei…” Jiang Wan murmured. She tried to crawl toward Bei Huai, but she had no strength left. All she could do was let the rescue team lift her onto a stretcher.

Little Bei… it must hurt so much.

Those rebars were so thick.

Her Little Bei was already in so much pain, yet she’d still patiently comforted her.

Little Bei, Little Bei, Little Bei…

“Jiang Wan? Jiang Wan?” An unfamiliar female voice cut through the air beside her ear.

Jiang Wan jolted awake with a start.

“Were you having a nightmare? You were crying.” The girl who spoke looked a bit embarrassed now that Jiang Wan was awake.

She had only gotten up to use the bathroom and had accidentally overheard Jiang Wan mumbling something. Startled at first, she drew closer and saw the girl sobbing, tears soaking a huge wet patch on her pillow.

Jiang Wan was still dazed. She touched her cheek and felt the dampness there. Her heart clenched in panic at the sight of the tears on her hand.

This was her first day in W City. The training camp had arranged dorms for everyone—four-person rooms—and her roommates all seemed friendly enough.

She had thought the next ten days would be pleasant. She never imagined that on her very first night, she would have a dream like this.

It felt so real, as if she had been right there in the middle of it.

But the moment she woke, every detail shattered and slipped away.

Just like that other time.

“Are you okay?” her roommate whispered, noticing Jiang Wan’s pallor. It was still around four in the morning; the other roommates were fast asleep.

Jiang Wan managed a weak smile. “I’m fine. Sorry for waking you.”

Her roommate waved it off and, satisfied that she was truly all right, climbed back into bed.

But Jiang Wan couldn’t fall asleep again. An inexplicable panic gripped her, and a faint ache throbbed in her chest.

It hurt—a deep, wrenching hurt that made her want to sob uncontrollably.

For the first time, she desperately wanted to remember exactly what she had dreamed.

Yet the harder she tried to recall it, the more her head throbbed.

She took a deep breath, slipped out of bed, threw on a coat at random, grabbed her phone, and headed for the outer balcony while dialing a number.

The dorm room had the heat cranked up, but the moment she stepped outside, a fierce chill wind battered her, sending icy gusts straight down her collar.

The cold air snapped her mind awake in an instant.

She realized she’d done something incredibly stupid and moved to hang up—just as the call connected on the other end.

“What’s wrong?”

That familiar voice dredged up faint threads of memory from her dream.

A wave of fear and panic she couldn’t suppress crashed over her.

Her eyes rimmed red, her voice thick with choked sobs. “I had a nightmare.”

Girls rarely spoke in such a pitiful, wheedling tone, and Bei Huai was instantly alert. Her brows furrowed slightly, her voice softening on instinct. “What kind of nightmare?”

“I dreamt about you… Something really awful happened.” Jiang Wan clutched her phone tighter, the red at the corners of her eyes intensifying.

She couldn’t recall the details anymore, but she knew it had been utterly terrifying—scary enough to make her heart ache like it was dying. Just the thought of it now brought tears welling up.

“Mm…” Bei Huai hadn’t seen that answer coming.

Sensing how unsteady the girl was, she coaxed her gently. “It’s all right. It was just a dream. See? I’m perfectly fine right now. And besides, dreams always mean the opposite.”

“Mm.”

Bei Huai’s brows knit tighter at the tremor in the girl’s voice. “Where are you right now?”

“On the dorm balcony,” the girl whispered. Her voice was stuffy, like she’d been crying, mingled with the rustle of wind through the trees.

Dead of winter, the crack of dawn—this girl really wasn’t afraid of freezing.

Bei Huai nearly laughed in frustration. Her tone turned firm. “Right now, this instant, get back inside the dorm. Into bed. Under the covers. Eyes shut. No more wild thoughts. Sleep.”

“Got it?”

Under Bei Huai’s firm directions, Jiang Wan finally crawled back into the warmth of her bed. Only then did her senses return.

Oh god, what idiotic thing had she just done?

Calling Bei Huai at four in the morning?!

“You back in bed now?” Bei Huai asked.

Thank goodness Jiang Wan had her earbuds in so she wouldn’t wake her roommates. Burrowed under the covers, her cheeks burning, she let out a soft hum.

“Then sleep. Good night.”

“Mm.”

Good night.

She echoed the words silently to herself.

But… something about this felt a little off?