Chapter 41: Second Day After Recovering Memory

Bei Huai desperately wanted to attend Jiang Wan’s competition in person, but it clashed directly with the Physics Competition.

Truth be told, she couldn’t care less about any competition. In her eyes, Wanwan’s performance mattered more than anything else.

But she also knew that skipping the Physics Competition would make Wanwan angry.

And she didn’t want Wanwan to be angry.

By some incredible stroke of luck, however, the organizers ran into an unexpected issue, and the Physics Competition was postponed.

The moment Bei Huai heard the news, she bolted straight to the Luosang Ballet Competition.

She arrived just as the host was delivering the opening remarks.

After finding Guanguan in the audience and learning where Jiang Wan was, she hurried backstage.

On the way, her heart brimmed with joy, and she even plotted mischievously to give Jiang Wan a little scare—a surprise jump.

But when she pushed open the door and saw Jiang Wan toppling backward, Bei Huai felt her own heartbeat grind to a halt.

The clamor around her faded into nothingness. Acting on pure instinct, she lunged forward.

She ended up throwing herself flat on the ground, heedless of the scrapes on her knees, arms outstretched to catch Jiang Wan.

Her fingers throbbed from the pressure, but she barely registered the pain—only sheer panic and terror filled her.

She managed to cradle Jiang Wan’s waist and back, but could only watch in horror as the girl’s head struck the floor with a heavy thud.

Helplessness and regret surged within her, over and over.

If only she’d arrived a little sooner. If only she’d reacted a fraction faster.

Then Wanwan wouldn’t have been hurt.

It was all her fault.

The sight of the girl’s pale, agonized face twisted Bei Huai’s heart like a knife.

She snapped her head up, fixing a cold stare on the girl standing frozen nearby.

She’d seen it clearly—this girl had shoved Jiang Wan.

Her sharp, angular features turned fierce and glacial, the chill in her eyes solidifying into something tangible, her brows and gaze roiling with barely restrained fury.

In that moment, she was no longer the tsundere girl who acted prickly around Jiang Wan. She was the terrifying No. 13 Middle School Tyrant.

“If anything happens to Wanwan, I won’t let you off the hook. Not ever.”

It wasn’t a frenzied roar or an empty bluff. Her voice was calm, stating it like an indisputable fact.

That very calmness sent chills down the spine.

Like the eerie stillness before a storm.

The girl’s body shuddered. She didn’t dare utter a word, simply backing away from Bei Huai in silence.

Rage churned inside her, howling to break free and erupt.

Bei Huai’s eyes gradually reddened, her jaw clenched, fists balled tight as she fought to restrain it.

Suddenly, the soft form in her arms clung to her fiercely.

Clutching her like the last lifeline, with desperate strength.

In that instant, every trace of fury and agitation evaporated.

Bei Huai smoothed away her sharp edges, her presence turning serene—as if the outburst had been nothing more than a mirage.

She gently stroked the girl’s hair, careful not to brush the back of her head, and cooed softly, “It’s okay, don’t be scared. Does your head still hurt?”

Jiang Wan shook her head, sniffled, and tilted up her small face to gaze at Bei Huai in a daze. As if letting her eyes wander might make the figure before her vanish.

It was her Little Bei.

She lifted her hand, slowly tracing Bei Huai’s contours, as though seeing her for the first time. Bei Huai patiently let her explore.

Her hair was much shorter now, her features more youthful.

But most importantly, this Bei Huai radiated the vibrant energy of youth—the hunger for life and the promise of the future.

Bursting with youthful vigor, alive with possibility.

How wonderful. So this was what her Little Bei had been like in her younger days.

Why had someone so wonderful endured so much suffering?

Just the thought shattered Jiang Wan’s heart.

Seeing the girl’s eyes welling up again, Bei Huai panicked.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt? Can you walk?”

She was genuinely frantic. Unable to wait for the ambulance, she prepared to scoop Jiang Wan up and rush her to the hospital herself.

Jiang Wan stopped her, forcing her to hold off.

Right then, the event organizer arrived.

It was the dead of winter, but he was soaked in cold sweat.

He’d already heard the rough details from others on his way over and was gripped by shock and fear. If the contestant had suffered a serious injury, he’d be in deep trouble.

“You’re Jiang Wan, right? Are you okay? The ambulance is almost here. If you’re feeling off anywhere, just tell me. Rest assured, we’ll look into this thoroughly and give you a proper resolution.”

Jiang Wan eyed the organizer’s kindly, approachable smile and slowly shook her head.

“This is…” His smile wavered.

“I still want to compete,” the girl declared firmly.

After the initial rush of emotion, she had steadied herself.

To be precise, she remembered everything now.

She was Jiang Wan, and also the reborn Jiang Wan.

Unfortunately, the timing of her rebirth couldn’t have been worse. That high fever had burned away all her memories.

At the time, she’d forced herself through her illness to scribble a few fragmented notes in her diary, just in case her amnesiac self had no clues to follow.

Luckily, even without her memories, she’d stayed true to her instincts and headed to No. 13 Middle School, where she met Little Bei ahead of schedule.

What she hadn’t expected was that Little Bei would shield her from this very calamity.

In her previous life, she’d also competed in the Luosang Ballet Competition. But when she collapsed, no one rushed forward to protect her.

She’d slammed straight into the floor, enduring the excruciating pain radiating from her spine as her heart sank into despair.

The spinal injury was severe enough to require half a year of treatment—and that wasn’t even the worst part.

What truly shattered her was that she could never dance again.

That fall left her with a permanent disability.

She couldn’t dance anymore, unless she wanted to end up as a vegetable. And even if she didn’t care, her parents would never allow it.

In the flower of her youth, nothing could have struck her harder.

Those were the darkest, most hopeless days of her life.

She dropped out of school and stayed home, enduring the monotonous agony of rehab exercises day after day. She refused to go out, locking herself in her room. Her smiles faded away, her words grew scarce, and her frame wasted away.

Her mother closed the flower shop and poured every ounce of energy into caring for her. She always smiled encouragingly, tirelessly guiding her through the exercises and whipping up delicious meals in endless variety, all just to coax one more bite into her.

Her father gave up a promotion and made sure to come home every day to keep her company. He told her amusing stories from the office and racked his brains for gifts, anything to draw even a single smile from her.

But Jiang Wan knew the truth. Her mother hid away to wipe her tears in secret, her anxiety causing handfuls of hair to fall out. Her father picked up a smoking habit and would sigh in self-reproach whenever he was alone.

Even Guanguan became hypersensitive and tiptoed around her, constantly monitoring her moods. She was nothing like the bright, bubbly girl she’d once been.

Jiang Wan even started to hate herself, resenting her own uselessness for causing so much pain to her family and friends.

A perfectly good life had shattered because of one accident. No amount of compensation could fix that.

But now, the shadow that had haunted her entire life was finally lifted by Little Bei.

Her Little Bei was her lucky star, not the jinx she’d once called herself.

With Bei Huai’s support, Jiang Wan slowly rose to her feet. She scanned the room, then fixed her gaze on the official in charge.

Her tone brooked no argument. “I’m fine. I can continue competing.”

In her previous life, her dancing career had ended right here. This time, she would reclaim her light in this very place.

“Are you sure?” The official eyed her skeptically. The poor girl’s face was as white as a sheet.

“I’m sure.” Jiang Wan replied without hesitation.

Since she was so insistent, the official couldn’t very well refuse. He went off to handle the formalities but said nothing about the fall.

Jiang Wan didn’t press the issue. This was competition time, and she wouldn’t make trouble for him or delay things. But once it was over, there would be a reckoning.

With that thought, her eyes turned icy.

She wasn’t some saint who could forgive and forget.

Bei Huai frowned at Jiang Wan, her expression complicated, but in the end, she only said, “Don’t push yourself too hard. I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

She understood the girl’s determination—and what ballet meant to her.

Jiang Wan turned to look at her, and the coldness in her eyes instantly melted into softness.

Beaming with joy, she threw herself into Bei Huai’s arms, nuzzling her face against the girl’s chest.

Pure bliss filled her heart.

“H-Hey, quit rubbing all over me like that.” Bei Huai floundered, frozen in place. This was the first time Jiang Wan had been so boldly affectionate, rubbing against her like a kitten. It set her whole body aflame, her ears burning red.

Jiang Wan looked up with a sweet smile.

Seeing Little Bei blush like this after regaining her memories felt so novel.

Who knew Little Bei had such an adorable side? In her previous life, she’d been so detached and unflappable, no matter what Jiang Wan did—no spark of life at all.

In her heart, Jiang Wan made a solemn vow.

She would protect this Little Bei with everything she had. She absolutely wouldn’t let her repeat the mistakes of the past.

The other competitors came over with friendly concern, confirmed she was okay, and dispersed. As for Xiang Ran, the one who’d shoved her, she’d slipped away the moment the official arrived.

Jiang Wan paid her no mind. After the competition, there’d be nowhere for her to run.

“If you can’t do it, don’t force yourself, okay?” Bei Huai nagged on beside her, worry etched in her eyes.

Jiang Wan had already been sitting and resting for a while. She could feel the changes in her body firsthand and wouldn’t do anything rash. At those words, she merely smiled lightly. “Got it.”

She glanced sideways, taking in the girl’s tightly pursed lips and serious expression. Her heart instantly melted.

What was she supposed to do? Her wife had been so adorable in her youth—she just wanted to kiss her.

And with that thought, that’s exactly what she did.

Bei Huai stood there clutching her cheek, her gaze dazed and unfocused. Jiang Wan laughed so hard she could hardly catch her breath.

Bei Huai remained stunned for a full minute. Then her face flushed red at a speed visible to the naked eye… and with that, she bolted without so much as a backward glance.

Jiang Wan: “…”

…She’d probably scared her wife. Oh well. She’d have to rein herself in from now on.

Bei Huai stood outside the theater, face wooden and expressionless, letting the cold wind whip across her for quite some time until her mind finally cleared.

Were it not for the lingering warmth on her cheek, she might have convinced herself it had all been a dream.

So… what had Jiang Wan meant by that? An accident, or…?

She fell silent, her fingers absently tracing the bracelet on her wrist.

After a moment, she turned on her heel and hurried back inside without breaking stride.

Wanwan’s competition was about to start—she couldn’t miss it.

Guanguan had saved a seat for her and waved enthusiastically the moment she spotted her.

“I just saw a bunch of contestants heading backstage with the staff, and they all looked super serious. Did something happen?” The instant Bei Huai sat down, Guanguan leaned in and whispered.

Guanguan was as carefree as ever, asking purely out of nosy curiosity, with no inkling that it involved Jiang Wan.

Bei Huai paused for a few seconds. Knowing Jiang Wan’s personality, she wouldn’t want her friends worrying, so she replied calmly and confidently, “Just a little mishap. Nothing to worry about.”

Guanguan caught the hint in Bei Huai’s tone and pouted, zipping her lips without another word.

The two settled in to watch the performances, though neither could focus.

One was lost in thoughts of that backstage kiss, the other wrestling with the ache of an unspoken teenage crush.

That is, until Jiang Wan took the stage. Then they both sat up straight as one.

Guanguan clapped until her palms turned red. If it wouldn’t have been wildly inappropriate, she would have leaped to her feet and hollered her approval.

Jiang Wan had changed into the ballet dress she’d brought along—the one her father had bought her.

She stood on stage in the flowing skirt, utterly captivating the audience even before her first movement.

The blinding spotlight bathed her in radiance, turning her into a dazzling star.

In that moment, she commanded every eye in the house.

The dance concluded.

Thunderous applause exploded through the venue.

She stood poised and graceful, gazing out at the crowd below. Her eyes seemed to find someone special, and she broke into a sudden smile.

A faint dimple graced the corner of her mouth, her gaze shimmering with light.