Chapter 39: And I’ll Be Here With You

Autumn deepened, and university life settled like the waters of Weiming Lake, gradually forming clear outlines.

Everything began to fall into place.

Shen Jia Yan fully withdrew from the Taekwondo Club and kept only the Music Society, where activities took place during everyone’s free time.

Additionally, she applied to join the student council.

With her companionship, Wen Wan Ning gradually adapted to her current studies and life. She also joined the student council.

They still called each other every night, with Shen Jia Yan remaining the talkative one.

On her end of the line, she accompanied Wen Wan Ning through her nightly routine, listening to her muffled mutters while brushing her teeth and the rush of water from the faucet. She shared the interesting things she had heard or experienced.

She also heard the rustle of sheets as Wen Wan Ning climbed into bed, followed by her satisfied sigh once she burrowed under the covers. Shen Jia Yan leaned against the dormitory corridor window, imagining Wen Wan Ning curled up in her bed in the Jingbei University dormitory building—her hair splayed across the pillow, eyelashes quietly lowered, phone pressed to her ear, breaths gradually lengthening.

Sometimes Wen Wan Ning grew too sleepy mid-conversation and fell silent. Shen Jia Yan would soften her voice, recounting trivial little things: “I saw an orange cat in the library today… The class monitor ruined his haircut…” until she heard even breathing from the other end. She would wait quietly for a few seconds, then whisper in a breathy voice, “Are you falling asleep?”

Sometimes she received a dreamy “mm-hmm,” the tail end drawn out long with heavy drowsiness. It felt like a kitten’s paw gently stepping on the tip of Shen Jia Yan’s heart, melting her completely.

More often, there was only faint breathing in response. In those moments, Shen Jia Yan unconsciously softened her expression, as if Wen Wan Ning slept right before her eyes.

“I’m hanging up now,” she murmured softly into the phone, afraid to disturb the other’s dreams. “Remember to take your earbuds out.” She paused, then added, “Sleep well. Good night.”

Even knowing the other might not hear, she waited a few seconds before reluctantly pressing the end call button.

The moment the screen went dark, Shen Jia Yan pressed the phone to her chest. In the darkness, her lips curved high, her heart overflowing with happiness that nearly spilled over.

She hoped this happiness could last forever.

Lately, since both had joined the student council, their free time shortened, and their calls grew briefer.

But they still tried to keep in touch every night.

One evening, Shen Jia Yan finished her tasks, washed up, and waited until their usual contact time before taking her phone and stepping out of the dorm.

The phone rang for a long time before Wen Wan Ning’s slightly hurried voice came through. “Hello.”

“Were you busy?” Shen Jia Yan asked with concern.

Wen Wan Ning pulled out a chair and sat down. “Nothing major. I was just boiling water and didn’t hear the phone.”

Though it was their near-daily ritual, Shen Jia Yan always initiated the calls. She arranged her schedule around Wen Wan Ning’s.

Lately, with Wen Wan Ning’s student council department keeping her busy, their contact hadn’t been smooth.

Sometimes she was too occupied to notice the time or the ringtone; other times, she picked up but only exchanged a sentence or two before getting back to work; sometimes, she answered, said she’d call back, but got too busy late into the night to do so and sent a message explaining instead.

Shen Jia Yan occasionally felt a twinge of disappointment—like when Wen Wan Ning said she’d call back and Shen Jia Yan waited in the corridor until the message arrived, explaining it was too late to call.

But the disappointment faded quickly. She knew Wen Wan Ning was busy and understood. She just felt heartbroken that she had to work so late.

As long as she was okay. Shen Jia Yan quietly exhaled in relief. “Can you rest at the normal time tonight?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Wan Ning, your medicine is ready.” A girl’s voice came from the other end.

Shen Jia Yan’s brows furrowed immediately. “Medicine? Are you sick?”

There was a flustered rustle from Wen Wan Ning’s side. “It’s nothing. Just… a bit of a cold lately.”

Shen Jia Yan’s fingers unconsciously tightened around the phone.

Wen Wan Ning wasn’t telling the truth.

Shen Jia Yan knew her well enough—from their high school days and what she’d learned from Lü Xin—that she hated taking medicine unless she was truly at her limit. And that girl had said “scalded medicine,” clearly referring to Chinese herbal medicine.

“Wan Ning.” Her voice suddenly grew serious. “If you really consider me a good friend, I hope you’ll tell me the truth.”

Though Shen Jia Yan didn’t love the “good friend” label, it was the best she had for now.

Silence stretched for a few seconds on the other end.

“My stomach’s been a bit uncomfortable,” Wen Wan Ning admitted softly. “The student council has had a lot of group dinners lately… probably irregular eating…”

Shen Jia Yan’s heart clenched sharply.

“Did you get it from the hospital?” Her voice tightened.

“Yes.” Wen Wan Ning’s voice sounded like waterlogged cotton. “The doctor said it’s chronic gastritis.”

A stifled retch came from the other end, followed by panicked clattering. Shen Jia Yan shot upright. “Wan Ning?”

“It’s—it’s fine.” Wen Wan Ning’s voice was so weak it nearly floated away. “Just a bit nauseous from the medicine.”

Shen Jia Yan stared at the pitch-black night outside the window and made a snap decision. “I’m coming to campus now.”

“What?”

“I’ll take a cab. Should be there in about twenty minutes.” She turned and headed upstairs to her dorm as she spoke.

Wen Wan Ning’s breaths came quick and urgent. “It’s too late. Taking a cab alone isn’t safe. I’d worry.”

Shen Jia Yan paused. She remembered a high school incident when Wen Wan Ning had done the same—lips pale from pain, yet forcing a smile and saying “I’m fine.” The memory overlapped with the weak voice on the phone, stabbing a sharp pain through her chest.

“Wen Wan Ning.” She rarely called her full name like that. “Either I cab over now, or you open video so I can watch you finish that medicine.”

She reined in her impulse. Showing up unannounced so late might burden Wen Wan Ning, so she settled for supervising her instead.

A long silence followed—so long Shen Jia Yan thought the signal had dropped. Finally, a faint voice: “Let’s video call.”

Shen Jia Yan immediately switched to video, her heart pounding with each “beep” of the wait tone.

The screen lit up, and she nearly held her breath.

Wen Wan Ning’s face appeared, soft lighting unable to hide her faint pallor and the shadows under her eyes.

Her hair was casually tied back, collar rumpled, as if she’d just extricated herself from a pile of tasks. She sat at her dorm desk, a steaming cup of herbal medicine before her, tissues and a water glass nearby.

The instant she saw Shen Jia Yan, she offered a shallow smile. “You’re not in your dorm? No jacket? The night breeze is chilly.”

Shen Jia Yan said nothing, just stared, as if committing her to memory.

“Drink the medicine.” Her voice was gentle but firm.

Wen Wan Ning sighed softly, picked up the cup, and wrinkled her nose at the bitterness.

Shen Jia Yan watched her sip it slowly. “Take it easy. Don’t choke.”

Wen Wan Ning nodded, glanced up with gentle eyes tinged with apology. “Sorry for worrying you.”

Shen Jia Yan’s heart trembled; her voice softened unconsciously. “If you’d told me sooner, I wouldn’t have been so worried.”

Wen Wan Ning lowered her gaze and kept drinking.

After the last sip, she set down the cup, rinsed with water from the glass, and exhaled softly. “All done.” She looked at the camera. “This okay?”

Shen Jia Yan’s lips twitched up briefly before flattening. “Next time you’re unwell, tell me right away.”

Wen Wan Ning murmured a soft “mm,” her eyelashes casting tired shadows under the desk lamp. She curled up in the chair like a sick child, mustering a smile for the camera. “Why are you so stern today…”

Shen Jia Yan gazed at her pale lips on the screen, her heart melting, but she kept up the stern face. “Because someone never learns to take care of herself.”

The words triggered a memory of that rainy sophomore year day. The campus paths pooled with murky water; despite Shen Jia Yan’s pleas, Wen Wan Ning walked barefoot to avoid wetting the shoes she’d given her, heedless of potential hazards.

That day, Shen Jia Yan had snapped at her for the first time. Now, across the screen, Wen Wan Ning wore the exact same stubborn smile. Shen Jia Yan’s chest tightened; her stern facade crumbled.

“Wan Ning.” Her voice softened, fingertips brushing the screen over her reddened eyes. “You know I…” She swallowed the words.

She wanted to say, “I’m so worried about you, so scared something might happen. If I could, I’d bear all your unhappiness and discomfort.” Instead, she sighed. “I’m not trying to control you. I just… don’t want you wearing yourself out.”

The words slipped from her heart’s depths, carrying unspoken feelings that drifted into the night.

A quiet moment passed before Wen Wan Ning replied softly, “I know, Jia Yan.”

Shen Jia Yan’s nose stung; she suppressed it and said warmly, “Remember, don’t shoulder everything alone. In this city, you’ve got me with you.”

Wen Wan Ning froze, eyes glistening, but she only whispered, “Okay, I got it.”