Ten days flew by in the blink of an eye.
Under Teacher Huai’s guidance, Jiang Wan learned a great deal and reaped abundant rewards.
The day she returned to Ning City, Mother Jiang and Guanguan came to pick her up.
“Little Wan, are you looking for someone?” Seeing her daughter craning her neck all around, Mother Jiang asked, puzzled.
Jiang Wan pulled back her gaze. A flicker of disappointment she couldn’t quite hide passed through her eyes, but she still managed a smile. “It’s nothing. Let’s head home.”
Out of her sight, though, the red-haired girl watched her silently, her expression shadowed.
“Hey, you trying to turn into a lovesick statue?” Cen Jin leaned against the wall nearby, teasing with a grin.
Truth be told, she couldn’t make heads or tails of Bei Huai’s game anymore.
She had shown up, but insisted on telling the poor girl she was tied up with something and couldn’t make it.
Just to watch that little face fall?
Bei Huai said nothing, her eyes fixed silently on the figure below.
Her hair had grown out quite a bit, now half-hiding her brows and eyes. Even the vibrant red had faded to a dull sheen.
She hadn’t been sleeping well these past days—pulling all-nighters left and right—which had left her with two prominent dark circles under her eyes. Her face was ghostly pale, drained of all color. As Cen Jin put it, she looked like a vampire that had clawed its way out of a coffin.
“So, Sister Huai, what’s really going on in that head of yours?”
Bei Huai’s lashes fluttered down, her posture unchanging. Just as Cen Jin figured she wouldn’t get a reply, the girl spoke up out of nowhere, her voice cool. “Do you think I still have a shot?”
“That’s not for me to say—it’s up to you to go after it.” Cen Jin arched a brow, sensing something was seriously off.
Her tone grew grave. “What happened?”
“Go after it myself?” Bei Huai murmured softly, then let out a bitter laugh. “I’m afraid I don’t even qualify.”
“Bei Huai…” Cen Jin frowned, hating to see her friend so defeated.
Bei Huai squeezed her eyes shut, and the doctor’s words from that day echoed in her mind once more.
—”After several days of observation and testing, your mother, Ms. Yun Manzhu, has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. And given the family history, it’s highly likely to be hereditary.”
—”…So there’s a good chance I’ll inherit it too, right?”
—”Theoretically speaking, yes.”
That day, Bei Huai had no idea how she’d even made it out of the hospital. Everything felt hazy, unreal.
She had no memories of grandparents growing up. As a kid, she’d once asked Yun Manzhu about them, only to get a baseless tongue-lashing—or worse, a rampage that left the house in pieces.
After that, she’d never brought it up again.
No wonder. No wonder Yun Manzhu was so volatile, so unhinged. One moment her eyes would be bloodshot as she screamed at Bei Huai; the next, she’d be sobbing apologies. She only acted halfway normal around Bei Rong.
Even then, Bei Rong had called her out before—said she was sick.
Bei Huai had been too young back then, fiercely protective of her mother, and wouldn’t tolerate a word against her.
Looking back now, Bei Rong had been spot on.
What else could you call Yun Manzhu but sick?
And it wasn’t just her. Bei Huai had it too.
Bipolar disorder—mental illness, plain and simple.
So Bei Huai was the crazy one.
How could a nutjob like her get anywhere near Jiang Wan?
One was the moon up in the sky; the other, dirt underfoot.
And yet she’d dared to dream of reaching for that moon.
What arrogance.
She should stay as far from Jiang Wan’s world as possible—keep her Little Moon spotless, pure as fresh snow.
But she’d overestimated her own resolve.
She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t let go.
Couldn’t ignore Jiang Wan’s messages. Couldn’t let her calls go to voicemail. And she sure as hell couldn’t stay away from her.
That was her Little Moon—the one inked on her arm, carved into her heart.
~~~
New Year’s Eve arrived, and Jiang’s Father returned from his business trip. The whole family was finally together.
“Little Wan, guess what I brought you?” Jiang’s Father grinned, holding a large box behind his back.
“Local specialties?” Jiang Wan blinked up at him.
He shook his head. Mother Jiang sat nearby, watching them with a smile.
Jiang Wan guessed several times, missing the mark each go.
The girl puffed out her cheeks, gazing at her father with big, pleading eyes.
“Here you go—take a peek.” Jiang’s Father relented at last and handed her the box.
“It’s an SE ballet tutu!” Jiang Wan opened it up and gasped in delight at the sight.
SE was a world-famous brand for dancewear, renowned for its custom skirts—especially its ballet tutus.
Jiang Wan unfolded the tutu with utmost care, her face lighting up with pure, unfiltered joy.
The wine-red skirt was handmade, incredibly soft and thin. The bodice was crafted from lace, accented with hand-stitched golden trim and dotted with sparkling rhinestones.
An aura of elegant grandeur washed over her.
“Thanks, Dad!” Jiang Wan was over the moon, her eyes curving into happy slits.
She knew all too well how tough it was to get a custom SE dance skirt. Not only were they exorbitantly priced, but the appointment list was endless—you might wait forever even if you got on it.
Her dad must have pulled some serious strings to snag this slot.
For this New Year’s Eve dinner, Mother Jiang had prepared for days in advance, stocking up on ingredients and whipping up a massive feast.
The moment dinner was over, Jiang Wan dashed into her bedroom, buzzing with excitement as she slipped into the new skirt.
In the mirror stood a girl with jet-black hair and dark eyes, ruby lips and pearly teeth. Her skin gleamed crystalline under the light, like the finest porcelain, setting off the skirt’s vivid blood-red hue.
Her waist was slender, a perfect handful.
Expressionless, she resembled a haughty noblewoman from medieval Europe.
When she smiled, her brows and eyes curved sweetly, her beauty almost otherworldly—like an elf dancing under moonlight, flawless and ethereal.
The elf’s faint smile outshone a hundred flowers in bloom.
Jiang Wan absolutely adored this dance skirt. It fulfilled every one of her fantasies.
She snapped several photos in front of the mirror, even tweaking them a bit—a rare move for her. Once satisfied, she posted them to Moments.
Good Night: My super fave dance skirt just arrived! It’s gorgeous! Thanks Dad, love you (heart eyes) #pic##pic##pic#
It hadn’t been up long before likes and comments started rolling in.
Guanguan, as usual, snagged the top spot.
—My Wanwan is drop-dead gorgeous, I’m dying!
Some of the silly comments had Jiang Wan in stitches.
Suddenly, a new notification popped up at the top of her screen.
She tapped it—Bei Huai had liked her post.
Her fingertip paused. Jiang Wan kept refreshing the page every so often, but no comment from Bei Huai appeared.
She sat in her chair, propping her chin on one hand, her mind drifting.
Where was Bei Huai right now? At home?
She could hardly picture Bei Huai sharing cozy family bliss with her parents—the incident at the police station had left too deep an impression.
Or was she out with friends? Or… alone?
The thought made Jiang Wan’s chest tighten with an inexplicable ache.
She pressed her lips together and dialed Bei Huai’s number.
It connected almost immediately.
“What’s up?” came the girl’s usual low, husky voice.
“Nothing much, just wanted to wish you a happy New Year’s Eve.”
“Mm, happy New Year’s Eve to you too.”
Silence stretched between them, filled only by faint breaths and the soft crackle of static.
“Um… where are you right now?” Jiang Wan hesitated before asking.
Bei Huai let out a light chuckle, teasing in a rare moment. “Guess.”
“Not downstairs from my place, surely.” Jiang Wan laughed.
There was no reply on the other end.
Jiang Wan sobered. “For real?”
“Pretty spot-on guess.” Bei Huai’s laugh held a touch of helplessness.
Even through the phone, Jiang Wan could picture her expression perfectly.
So… Bei Huai was really here?!
Her breath hitched. “Wait for me—I’m coming down right now.”
She didn’t even hang up before bolting for the bedroom door. Only when her hand gripped the knob did she realize she was still in the dance skirt. She hurriedly changed into something else.
Mother Jiang and father were cozied up on the living room sofa, watching the Spring Festival Gala. The couple rarely had time together these days and were chatting away. They both looked up in surprise as Jiang Wan rushed out.
“Mom, Dad, I’m going to meet a friend. Be back soon,” she explained, then hurried out the door.
“This girl, always in such a rush,” Mother Jiang chided fondly.
“Kids, you know how it is.” Jiang’s father patted his wife’s hand with a smile.
Ning City was brutally cold that year—snow had fallen several times already.
The moment Jiang Wan stepped out of the building, she was met with a world draped in silver, fat flakes drifting from the sky.
A blast of icy wind hit her face, raising goosebumps all over.
She looked up and spotted a figure by the flower bed in the distance, waving at her.
“Little Bei!” She waved back and hurried over.
Only up close did she notice how much the girl had changed.
The eye-catching red hair was gone, and she’d slimmed down a lot—even the bulky down jacket couldn’t hide it. Her already sharp features looked even more defined, a faint air of sternness lingering in her brows and eyes.
The bold, unrestrained vibe of before had faded, replaced by something more reserved and subdued.
Such a Bei Huai felt a little unfamiliar to Jiang Wan, but she didn’t dislike it at all.
“Little Bei, why’d you decide to dye your hair back?” Jiang Wan tilted her head and asked.
Another gust of cold wind blew through. She’d rushed out in such a hurry that she’d forgotten her scarf. She shivered instinctively and shrank her neck.
Bei Huai noticed right away. Her eyes flickered as she swiftly unwrapped her own scarf and wrapped it carefully around the girl’s neck, layer by layer.
Wrapping it meant lifting her hands higher, and Jiang Wan immediately spotted the bracelet on Bei Huai’s wrist.
It was the one she’d given her.
A spark of quiet joy bloomed in her heart.
The scarf still carried a trace of warmth against her chilled skin, bringing a wave of comfort that drew a soft inward sigh from Jiang Wan.
But then she realized Bei Huai had nothing to keep herself warm now. Feeling a pang of guilt, she said, “Aren’t you cold? I can go back and grab another one. You should wear yours.”
“It’s fine. I’m not cold.” Bei Huai lowered her gaze and smiled faintly.
“Really?” Jiang Wan wasn’t convinced.
Bei Huai changed the subject. “Want to take a stroll outside? It’s pretty lively out there.”
Jiang Wan agreed with pleasure.
The two walked side by side out of the complex. Though they didn’t speak, the silence felt natural and easy, carrying an indefinable comfort.
“Oh, right—you still haven’t answered my question from earlier.” Halfway down the road, Jiang Wan suddenly remembered and turned to her with a pointed look.
“What?”
“Why’d you dye your hair back?”
“You don’t like it?” Bei Huai touched her freshly dyed black hair, her expression thoughtful.
Jiang Wan tapped her chin and studied her seriously for a few moments before replying, “Not exactly. It’s just surprising. I’d gotten used to seeing you with red hair, so the sudden change caught me off guard. I was curious, that’s all.”
With red hair, Bei Huai stood out sharply in a crowd, like a wild punk with a defiant edge that screamed “don’t mess with me.” The black hair toned down that brashness but added a lofty aloofness, her brows carrying an even chillier detachment that kept people at bay all the same.
“But to me, Little Bei, you look great no matter what.” Jiang Wan summed it up with an emphatic nod.
“Just don’t dye it too often. It’s really bad for your hair.”
Bei Huai watched the girl’s earnest expression and chuckled softly, looking down. “I won’t anymore. This was the last time.”
She wanted to give herself a real chance, which meant she couldn’t go back to looking like a delinquent.
She wanted to become a good student again—just so she’d be worthy of standing at Jiang Wan’s side.
It was past ten already, but the streets buzzed with energy. Strings of little colored lights draped the green belts and trees along the sidewalks, twinkling like a galaxy from afar, with the snowflakes adding an extra touch of magic.
Several passersby had started an impromptu snowball fight right there on the street, their faces lit up with festive joy that couldn’t help but lift everyone’s spirits.
As Jiang Wan watched, a playful idea sparked in her mind. She quietly scooped up a snowball and, when Bei Huai wasn’t looking, hurled it with lightning speed.
Direct hit—right to the face!
Bei Huai froze for a second. The snowball dropped to the ground before she snapped out of it.
Seeing the girl across from her doubled over laughing, a vein throbbed at Bei Huai’s temple. She narrowed her eyes dangerously, her lips curving into a smirk. “Jiang Wan?”
“No, no—I surrender!” Better safe than sorry. Spotting Bei Huai packing a much bigger snowball, Jiang Wan bolted.
The two chased each other with snowballs, laughing and shouting all the way to a nearby square.
The square was packed, mostly with couples and families setting off fireworks.
Jiang Wan bought a bunch of sparklers. She wasn’t big on the loud skyrockets—too scary. The gentle glow of sparklers suited her much better.
“Little Bei, look!”
Bei Huai turned to see the girl bundled in a light-colored puffer jacket, her cheeks flushed rosy in the fireworks’ glow. Her eyes sparkled like they held all the stars in the sky, stirring something deep in Bei Huai’s chest—a profound sense of being needed.
She held a sparkler in each hand, waving them through the air to trace out heart shapes. All the while, she kept calling for Bei Huai to look.
It was childish. Utterly adorable.
Bei Huai’s gaze softened. “Very pretty.” You’re even prettier.
They played with the sparklers for over an hour, acting like kids themselves, blissfully tireless.
The younger children around them kept shooting them odd glances.
As midnight approached, the massive electronic screen in the square kicked off a sixty-second countdown.
The crowd caught the electric atmosphere and joined in, counting down together.
Jiang Wan tilted her face up to the screen, counting along with utmost seriousness.
“Ten, nine, eight…”
Bei Huai glanced sideways at her, emotions churning deep in her eyes.
“Six, five, four…”
“Wanwan, I…” She leaned close to the girl’s ear and began.
“Three, two, one!”
“I like you.”
A tremendous boom rang out as brilliant fireworks burst across the sky in a dazzling cascade of colors. People cheered and leaped with joy, exchanging New Year’s greetings.
That simple “I like you” was like an unremarkable pebble, slipping quietly into the depths of a lake amid the clamor, unnoticed by anyone.
“Little Bei, what did you just say? I couldn’t hear you!” Jiang Wan was thrilled too, her cheeks glowing red in the fireworks’ light. She turned to Bei Huai and shouted.
Bei Huai’s gaze deepened. She stared at the girl for a few seconds, then merely smiled and looked toward the horizon. “Nothing. Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year!” Jiang Wan laughed, cupping her hands to her mouth and shouting at the top of her lungs.
“Happy New Year.” Bei Huai lowered her eyes and murmured softly.
In the midst of the roaring crowd, she buried her surging love deep inside.
Wishing you nothing but joy and smooth sailing, eternal peace in the eternal city.
