Chapter 10: Meeting My Wife: Day 10

After half a month of rehearsals, No. 13 Middle School finally welcomed its New Student Welcome Party.

This year’s event wasn’t prepared just for the high school freshmen. In addition to the school leaders, sponsors were also among the guests.

As a result, the Student Council bore a heavy burden. The welcome party had to be both grand and innovative—at the very least, they couldn’t afford to lose face in front of the sponsors.

Backstage at the Grand Auditorium.

The performing students were applying makeup and changing into their costumes. There weren’t enough student volunteers serving as makeup artists, so some performers had to handle it themselves.

Less than twenty minutes remained until the gala officially began.

Most of the Senior High Division students had already arrived. Even a few from the Junior High Division had slipped over during their break to join the excitement.

Backstage buzzed with activity as people hurried to and fro, yet preparations proceeded in an orderly manner.

Jiang Wan felt stifled inside and decided to step out for some fresh air.

Guanguan, meanwhile, had long since dashed to the front to find Cen Jin.

The school had permitted third-year high school students to attend the gala if they wished, though it was entirely voluntary.

By late September, the lingering summer heat had begun to fade.

To avoid impeding the throngs of students entering the auditorium, Jiang Wan slipped out the back door. The moment she did, the night’s chill hit her, and she instinctively shrank her neck.

She had worn short sleeves to make changing into her dance dress easier later on.

Rubbing her arms, she had no desire to stand there freezing pointlessly and turned to head back inside.

Just then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted a figure standing beneath the willow tree to her right.

The streetlamp cast a dim glow, and the tree trunk obscured most of her body, revealing only the faint outline of her slightly lowered profile.

The girl’s features were sharp, her mouth corners tugged downward in an aloof expression that warned strangers to keep their distance.

She lifted her arm, a faint streak of crimson flickering at her fingertips.

“Classmate Bei Huai?” Jiang Wan called out hesitantly.

Caught off guard by her name, Bei Huai froze for a moment. She looked up, recognized the speaker, and her expression shifted subtly. She slipped her right hand behind her back and quietly extinguished the cigarette.

Jiang Wan approached. Noticing the gesture, her brows furrowed ever so slightly.

Yet she merely offered a gentle smile. “Why aren’t you inside? Isn’t it cold out here?”

The girl wore light makeup that day, lending her bare features a touch more vibrancy. Her aura remained pure and crystalline, however, making others hesitant to draw near for fear of shattering that delicate luminescence.

Bei Huai met her dark, limpid gaze but said nothing.

Truth be told, her mood had been foul all day.

That afternoon, she and Yun Manzhu had dredged up old wounds, leading to a fierce argument. Or rather, it had been Lady Yun’s one-sided tirade while Bei Huai stood by, watching coldly, utterly unmoved.

Shattered objects littered the floor.

Lady Yun had roared at her, “What do you want from me?!”

Bei Huai found it almost laughable. That was the question she ought to be asking.

Once Lady Yun’s outburst subsided, she dissolved into tears, clinging to her and pleading for forgiveness.

She said it was Mom’s fault for starting the fight.

She said she never wanted things to be this way; she simply couldn’t help herself.

She said they would make it right from now on, live happily together.

Lady Yun stroked her hair, voice thick with sobs, her face etched with remorse.

It was just like the promises from her childhood.

Only Bei Huai was no longer the naive child she had once been.

She allowed the woman to hold her, listening to the apologies with a blank expression, her eyes stagnant as a lifeless pond.

She thought Lady Yun rather foolish. She wasn’t a child anymore.

So…

How could she possibly fall for it again?

And yet, even knowing better, her heart still ached.

The pain squeezed the air from her lungs.

Despite the misery, she had still wanted to see the gala.

When she asked Cen Jin about the start time, the girl had gaped at her in disbelief and even checked her forehead.

“You’re not running a fever. You never used to join in on stuff like this. What got into you?”

It wasn’t some sudden impulse. She simply remembered that a certain someone would be performing.

She hadn’t anticipated running into Jiang Wan—of all people—while having a smoke.

She wasn’t addicted. She’d picked it up initially just to spite Yun Manzhu. Later, she discovered that in her darkest moments, the tobacco dulled the edge of her pain, if only a little.

Though she knew it was merely nicotine’s illusory relief.

So what would Jiang Wan think of her now?

Probably just another delinquent who smoked.

She was already the school’s infamous troublemaker, a blight in the eyes of teachers and students alike. Bei Huai, who had always marched to her own beat without a care for others’ opinions, now dreaded seeing disdain in this girl’s eyes.

But there was none.

Strangely enough, that simple smile of Jiang Wan’s worked a kind of magic, lifting the gloom from her mood.

She decided Jiang Wan must be some kind of enchantress.

“Wanwan, why did you come out? I just searched everywhere inside for you.” A girl’s boisterous voice interrupted Bei Huai’s train of thought.

She glanced sideways and saw a girl running over, casually linking arms with Jiang Wan.

Bei Huai’s brow twitched; for some inexplicable reason, the girl’s face struck her as rather obnoxious.

Only after Guan Shaorong finished speaking did she notice the other person standing there. On closer inspection, she jumped in shock.

Holy crap, this… isn’t this Big Demon King Bei Huai? When did these two get tangled up?

She knew Jiang Wan and Bei Huai were in the same class, but it had never crossed her mind that they might actually interact.

And for some reason, Big Demon King’s gaze felt downright sinister. A cool breeze blew by, raising goosebumps on Guan Shaorong’s arms. She couldn’t help but cling tighter to Jiang Wan.

Bei Huai’s gaze grew even colder.

“I just stepped out for some fresh air. It was stuffy inside.” Jiang Wan hadn’t noticed Bei Huai’s expression and offered a simple explanation. She could see the disappointment in Guanguan’s eyes—it was because she hadn’t found her.

It was hardly surprising. After all, someone like Cen Jin didn’t seem the type to show up for an event like this.

But… Bei Huai seemed even less likely?

The thought crossed her mind, and her gaze drifted across without thinking—right into the depths of the girl’s eyes.

Caught red-handed peeking, even Jiang Wan felt a touch of embarrassment. She’d already noticed that Bei Huai was in a foul mood today, though she had no idea why.

She pursed her lips. “The gala’s about to start. Let’s head back in.”

“Right, let’s go!” Guan Shaorong jumped at the chance, tugging Jiang Wan toward the entrance. She had zero desire to linger around Big Demon King—that oppressive aura was too much to bear.

After a few steps, Jiang Wan glanced back and found Bei Huai silently trailing behind them. When their eyes met, Bei Huai looked up, blinked once, and lowered her gaze again.

Hmm… a sulky Classmate Bei Huai was just so adorably well-behaved.

She wanted to ruffle her hair!

But Jiang Wan quickly reined in the urge. Bei Huai wasn’t her housecat, after all, content to flop over for pets whenever she pleased.

So… she’d take it slow, step by step.

They entered the auditorium just as the host launched into the opening remarks. Guanguan headed off to grab something from a classmate, while Jiang Wan needed to slip backstage and change—her performance was up early, so preparations couldn’t wait.

She assumed Bei Huai would find a seat up front, but the girl kept following her without a word.

It gave Jiang Wan the odd illusion of a wronged little cub trotting after its mother.

The moment Bei Huai stepped into the backstage area, the lively chatter died instantly. Everyone’s eyes turned toward the doorway, fixing on the tall red-haired girl—then darted away just as quickly. From then on, people made a point of steering clear of her as they moved about.

The sight shattered Jiang Wan’s earlier fancy in an instant.

“Classmate Bei Huai, smoking’s bad for your health. Try to cut back from now on.” The words slipped out as she regarded the red-haired girl who’d followed her all the way backstage.

It was her honest opinion. The instant she’d spotted Bei Huai with a cigarette, her only thought had been how unhealthy it was—she couldn’t let her keep doing it.

Bei Huai’s eyes were clear and earnest.

Enveloped in that soft gaze, Bei Huai felt some of her exhaustion melt away.

She parted her lips and let out a quiet hum of agreement.

“Then I’m off to change.” Jiang Wan’s voice softened further at the sight of such perfect obedience, as if she were soothing a child.

And so Bei Huai settled into an empty chair, waiting patiently just like that.

The others snuck occasional glances her way, whispering among themselves about what her connection to Jiang Wan could possibly be.

Two minutes later, Jiang Wan emerged from the changing room, clutching a ballet skirt. Her lips were pressed thin, a rare flash of anger in her eyes.

“Excuse me, did you see anyone messing with my locker?” she asked one of the backstage staff.

“What happened?” The staff member was preoccupied with the program lineup.

“Someone tampered with my skirt.” Jiang Wan’s face was cold as she handed it over.

She’d sensed something wrong the moment she tried it on. It looked fine at first glance, but any real movement would snap the straps.

Thank goodness she’d caught it early. Otherwise, she’d have made a fool of herself on stage in front of everyone.

After taking it off, a close inspection confirmed it: no accident, but deliberate sabotage.

“How could that be?” The staffer stared in disbelief. “What do we do now? You’re the only one doing ballet—no backup skirt. And there’s no time to fix it or get a new one!”

The school principal’s speech was drawing to a close, and Jiang Wan was next up second on the program. Time was running short.

The investors wouldn’t sit through the entire gala, so the school had scheduled the highlights at the front to keep them from getting bored.

If anything went wrong with one of these early acts, he’d catch hell from the director.

“Wanwan, what’s going on?” Guanguan happened to come backstage looking for Jiang Wan and immediately sensed trouble from the grim look on her face.

Seeing the person in charge even more flustered than she was, Jiang Wan knew there was no point in asking questions. Backstage was a madhouse with people coming and going—no one would notice if someone had tampered with things. They could check the security footage later, but that would have to wait until after the show.

The ballet costume was the priority right now, though Jiang Wan wasn’t too worried about it.

Whoever was trying to sabotage her wouldn’t have guessed she’d brought her own backup. She’d been iffy about the school’s custom outfit at first, worried it might not feel right, but after one stage rehearsal, she’d decided it was fine and hadn’t bothered switching.

“Guanguan, head to Class 6 and grab my dance costume from the bag. Thanks.”

“What’re you thanking me for? I’ll be right back.” Guanguan wasn’t slow on the uptake—she instantly realized the costume was the issue and bolted out the door.

“You had a spare? Why didn’t you say so earlier? You scared me half to death.” The person in charge patted his chest, shooting Jiang Wan a mock glare.

Jiang Wan didn’t reply, her brows still knitted tight.

Something just felt off, deep in her gut.

And sure enough, her intuition was spot on moments later.

The girl who was supposed to accompany her ballet on piano called to say she’d hurt her hand and couldn’t play.

“Your hand was fine during rehearsal today. What, it just happens to give out right now?” Jiang Wan was so furious she almost laughed.

Did they think she was an idiot?

One mishap after another—did they really expect her not to notice?

The girl’s voice sounded guilty and flustered. “S-sorry… but I really can’t play.”

With that, she hung up.

When Guanguan returned with the costume and heard what happened, she was livid enough to storm off and confront the girl herself.

“No piano at all?” Guanguan knew going after her now wouldn’t help matters.

Jiang Wan closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.

Without live piano accompaniment, ballet lost so much of its magic on stage.

“Ask around—does anyone know how to play ‘The Sun’?” With no other options, this was their best shot.

Sadly, after checking with everyone, the person in charge came up empty. Either they didn’t play piano, or they didn’t know the piece. He even tried negotiating with other acts to swap slots and buy Jiang Wan some time.

But oddly, every single one refused.

By now, the first act was wrapping up. Jiang Wan was on deck.

Out of moves, she had no choice but to use the recording.

It stung. She hated settling for less.

This could’ve been flawless.

Jiang Wan clenched her fists, a fire smoldering in her chest with nowhere to go.

What she couldn’t stand most was someone messing with her one true love: ballet.

She drew a deep breath, steeling herself to take the stage and wait it out, when a voice came from behind her.

“I can.”

Just two simple words, but they made Jiang Wan’s eyes go wide.

She whipped around. There stood the red-haired girl a short distance away, one hand in her pocket, her expression cool as ever.

To Jiang Wan, though, she was glowing—like an angel swooping in to pull her from the flames.

“You… you can play it?”

Bei Huai took a few steps forward and gave a casual “Mm.” The cut on her palm had scabbed over; it wouldn’t hinder her.

No rehearsal. No run-through. Jiang Wan hadn’t even heard her play before.

But she trusted Bei Huai completely. She reached out, took her hand, flashed her a small smile, and led her step by step onto the stage.

Bei Huai glanced down at their joined hands, the corner of her mouth curving faintly.

The stage lights dimmed.

Bei Huai settled onto the piano bench, an odd feeling stirring in her chest.

She’d never imagined performing in a place like this.

Pushing aside the tangle of thoughts, her slender fingers danced across the black and white keys, coaxing out one beautiful note after another.

The melody soared—gentle as winter sunlight one moment, fierce as a raging sea the next.

With a sharp click, a spotlight beamed down.

The girl in her pristine white leotard arched her graceful neck, arms unfurling, toes pointed skyward.

Her long legs spun and leaped, her foot tracing a perfect arc through the air. The skirt flared under the lights, shimmering brilliantly.

She moved to the rhythm of the music, dancing gracefully across the stage. Her beauty was beyond description, like a mysterious sprite straight out of nature.

In that moment, every eye in the audience was fixed on her. Even their breaths grew hushed.

Bei Huai was no different.

It was a breathtaking visual feast.

Bei Huai’s field of vision held nothing but Jiang Wan.

The girl before her radiated absolute confidence, a self-assurance born from her own excellence.

It was a unique temperament—elegant and composed, yet gentle and all-embracing.

She had to admit it: Jiang Wan had captivated her.

Deep in her heart, a profoundly secret longing suddenly surged forth.

She hoped for the day when that girl would dance solely for her.

Just for her alone.