Chapter 33: Heart Moves: Day 13

There was less than a month left until the final exams.

Diligent students had already begun reviewing in earnest.

Jiang Wan was back to grinding away at physics, cutting back even on her dance practice time.

After burying her head in a flurry of physics problems, she stretched her neck, arched her back, and loosened her aching muscles. In a casual glance over her shoulder, she caught sight of the person behind her.

The girl was resting her chin on one hand, her head tilted slightly, eyelashes lowered as her fingers idly tapped at her phone screen. Jiang Wan didn’t know what she was looking at, but Bei Huai’s pale lips curved faintly, a subtle smile playing across her face.

She was so absorbed that she didn’t notice someone slowly creeping closer.

By the time she realized it, Jiang Wan’s face was right under her nose.

Bei Huai quickly flipped her phone face down, her gaze flickering evasively. Her tone was sharp but lacked conviction. “Who told you you could look at my phone?”

Though her reaction was swift, Jiang Wan had already caught a glimpse of what was on the screen.

It was nothing scandalous—just the screensaver. But what made it special was that it was a photo of her and Bei Huai.

From Guanguan’s birthday celebration at the KTV, when the two of them had sung a duet.

Jiang Wan barely had time for a quick look before the phone’s owner shielded it away.

A flicker of something unusual passed through her eyes, and a fleeting thought crossed her mind—so quick she couldn’t hold onto it before it vanished.

“I haven’t even accused you of violating my right of publicity yet,” Jiang Wan said, suppressing the odd feeling as she joked with a smile.

But Bei Huai just stared silently at the desk, saying nothing.

The air grew tense for a moment.

“Aren’t the final exams coming up? Don’t you plan to study?” Jiang Wan asked, trying to shift the topic.

“No,” Bei Huai replied. She shoved her phone into the desk drawer and moved to slump over for a nap, but the girl grabbed her arm.

“Little Bei, don’t you have any dreams for your future? No university you want to go to?”

Jiang Wan’s expression turned unusually serious.

Bei Huai paused, silent for a few seconds before answering, “No.”

There might have been dreams once, but they were just the life Yun Manzhu had planned for her. Later, she neither wanted nor cared for them.

Yet in this moment, as Jiang Wan asked, Bei Huai realized her future was a blank slate—a fog-shrouded path walked alone, devoid of light or direction.

“Hmm, then what’s the one thing you love most?” Jiang Wan puffed out her cheeks and pressed on.

“Things I like…” Bei Huai lowered her gaze, a flicker of confusion crossing her face.

Did she have something she truly loved?

Piano? It was fine—not something she hated, but far from a passion.

Pool, drinking, street racing, and the rest? Just ways to kill time, take it or leave it.

It felt like she didn’t have a single thing she truly cherished…

No, there was one. Something she really liked.

But it was something she could think of, but never speak aloud.

Bei Huai lifted her eyes to the girl across from her, her gaze complicated, before dropping them again.

“Then what about your vision for the future?” she countered instead.

Jiang Wan thought seriously for a moment before replying. “The thing I love most is dancing. I can’t imagine a life without it, so I’m going to bust my ass to get into Q University in the Capital City. In the future, maybe I’ll pursue more training, or join a dance troupe, or even open my own studio to teach kids.”

Q University was the top dance academy in the country, having produced countless stellar dancers.

Getting in was notoriously tough—not just top grades, but exceptional dance talent and a rigorous interview process.

Despite the sky-high bar, droves of people fought tooth and nail for a spot.

Jiang Wan spoke with infectious enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling like the brightest star in the sky when she talked about her dream.

Bei Huai watched her face and softly asked, “So, you want to go to the Capital City?”

“Yeah! Not just for Q University—I want to see the hustle and bustle there too.” Jiang Wan nodded vigorously, inviting her warmly. “If Little Bei hasn’t decided where to go yet, the Capital City would be a great choice.”

“Sounds pretty good,” Bei Huai said, her lips curving slightly.

“But if you want to head to the Capital City, you can’t keep slacking off. So let’s start with these final exams. What do you say?”

As she spoke, Jiang Wan revealed her true intentions.

Bei Huai: “…”

She’d let her guard down.

“I don’t think—”

Jiang Wan’s eyebrow arched. “Hm?”

“…Sounds good,” she amended quietly.

“Alright then. Today we’ll start with Chinese. Three poems a day, and I’ll quiz you tomorrow.” Jiang Wan briskly assigned the task.

“Do you know which three poems you’re memorizing today?” she asked thoughtfully.

Before Bei Huai could even open her mouth, Jiang Wan pulled out a slim booklet and thrust it into her hands.

“This has all the ancient poems and prose you need for the Gaokao. I’ve marked the ones that might show up on the final in red pen, so just follow along and memorize them one by one.”

With that, she fished out another booklet. “And this one’s a summary of all the essential Gaokao English vocab. Your word bank’s pretty weak right now, so don’t overload yourself—fifty words a day is plenty, or you’ll just forget them…”

“Isn’t this supposed to be Chinese?” Bei Huai finally snapped, unable to hold back any longer.

Jiang Wan blinked innocently. “Who said it was just Chinese? Exams aren’t single-subject deals. I’m taking it step by step, one subject at a time.”

Bei Huai: “…”

“I’m…”

“Hey, Little Bei, you already promised me. You’re not going back on your word, are you?” Spotting signs of cold feet, Jiang Wan jumped in quick.

Meeting those sly yet sparkling eyes, Bei Huai realized she’d been played.

“Aren’t you busy enough cramming for your own exams? Why waste time on useless stuff like this?” she grumbled irritably.

As far as she was concerned, babysitting her studies was pointless. She could use that energy reviewing her own material instead of meddling in hers.

“How is it useless?” Jiang Wan huffed, clearly upset.

Right then, the bell rang for class. With a pout, she whipped back around, not sparing Bei Huai another glance.

The entire period passed without a word between them. Sure, they didn’t chat much in class anyway, but Bei Huai could tell Jiang Wan was deliberately icing her out.

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could feel the girl’s sulky mood hanging in the air.

It soured her own mood too.

When the bell rang again, Jiang Wan kept her back turned, absorbed in her own work.

Bei Huai dawdled for a bit before tapping the girl’s shoulder with feigned nonchalance.

Jiang Wan paused but didn’t turn.

“I was wrong, okay? Don’t be mad. I’ll do what you say,” Bei Huai sighed, conceding defeat.

The words had barely left her mouth when Jiang Wan spun around, chin raised, voice smug.

“You said it, not me.”

Bei Huai: “…Nice one. Tricked again.”

“Little Bei, I’m not trying to force you. I just don’t want to watch you waste your prime years anymore.” Mission accomplished, Jiang Wan’s tone softened.

“Little Bei, I want to help you. It’s not that I think you’re awful as you are—I just want you to embrace the real you.”

Bei Huai blinked, looking up to find the girl’s gaze warm and gentle.

She heard Jiang Wan say to her,

“You’re just you. You don’t have to turn yourself into some star performer for anyone else’s sake, and you don’t need to overhaul who you are because of them. Little Bei, just be yourself.”

Jiang Wan’s expression was utterly sincere, tinged even with a hint of heartache.

Something struck Bei Huai’s heart—a tingling numbness, a warm surge flooding her chest. She couldn’t quite put the sensation into words; it just felt good, like the shadows deep in her soul were fading bit by bit.

Her lips quivered. Under the girl’s expectant stare, it took her ages to squeeze out a response.

“So… can I skip the poems?”

Wasn’t she supposed to be herself? She really didn’t want to tackle those long, cryptic ancient verses.

Jiang Wan: “…”

Her face darkened. “No. Way.”

Bei Huai went stone-faced. “Oh.”

That evening back home, Bei Huai squared off against the ancient poems.

“Six kings submit, the four seas unite; the Shu mountains stand bare, Afang rises.” She glanced at the first line.

Oh, easy.

She snapped the book shut and recited confidently.

“Six kings submit, the four seas unite… bare, bare—what comes after bare? Afang bare?”

She hadn’t even nailed the first line when a message popped up from Qu Tao and the others.

—Sister Huai, it’s been forever. Wanna hang out tonight?

Bei Huai skimmed it, fired off a quick reply, silenced her phone, and went back to wrestling with “bare.”

Meanwhile, the group had gathered in the board game room, huddled around a phone with varied expressions.

Tree: Studying. Don’t disturb.

“Sister Huai’s… really into studying these days, huh.”

After a beat of silence, someone muttered awkwardly.

“Yeah, stuck in the classroom all day. Won’t come out no matter what. No idea what got into her,” Feng Xing said, scratching his head in a mix of gripe and bewilderment.

Tong Baifeng, meanwhile, rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

“Hey, Crazy Tong, what’s on your mind?” Qu Tao teased, slapping the top of her head.

Tong Baifeng swatted his hand away in disgust. “Get lost.”

“You don’t think Sister Huai in this state is just like… you know?” Tong Baifeng hinted meaningfully.

Qu Tao, the blockhead, didn’t catch on and kept pressing her. “Like what? Spell it out—don’t beat around the bush.”

“Ugh, you numbskull!” Tong Baifeng rolled her eyes at him in exasperation.

“Isn’t it obvious? Sister Huai’s fallen head over heels. She’s been glued to that classroom all day, which has to mean someone’s captured her heart in there.”

“Could it be that girl who jumped out of nowhere last time to block for Sister Huai when we beat up Qin Dogshit?” one quick thinker piped up.

They’d asked Bei Huai about it afterward, and she’d brushed them off, saying it was just a classmate.

They were a carefree bunch—asked once and promptly forgot. If Tong Baifeng hadn’t brought it up today, it never would’ve clicked with that earlier incident.

No wonder, though. Even for a classmate, they’d never seen Sister Huai that frantic. She looked more upset than if she’d been the one hurt.

“So… does this mean we’re getting a Little Wife?”

“Wanna meet the Little Wife?” Tong Baifeng narrowed her eyes, egging them on like a tempter.

The others exchanged uneasy glances.

“Isn’t that a bad idea? If Sister Huai finds out, we’re dead meat.”

“Afraid of what? I bet she hasn’t closed the deal yet, or she’d have introduced her by now. Don’t you want to give Sister Huai a little push?” Tong Baifeng declared with total conviction, stirring everyone up.

“But what if we’re barking up the wrong tree?” Qu Tao fretted.

“Just ask Sister Cen. She’s tightest with Sister Huai—she’s gotta know something.” One of the guys suggested.

So they called up Cen Jin.

Cen Jin answered without hesitation.

Yep, your Sister Huai’s definitely got someone on her mind!

But Cen Jin was a sly one too. She spilled the beans but offered no advice or plans of her own—just sat back to enjoy the show.

“So what’s our move?” Everyone turned expectant eyes to Tong Baifeng, the resident dating expert.

The girl whose romances thrived on bold straight shots and sheer force brimmed with confidence. “Follow my lead—you can’t go wrong!”

No more beating around the bush. She’d set her sights on Christmas Eve, just two days away.