Chapter 18

Disdain gathered between Sang Wan’s brows. She raised her arm slightly, her fingertip trembling as words caught in her throat. A strange illusion surged through her—a feeling that something precious was about to be snatched away.

How could she let that happen?

“Sorry.” Yue Bai made up her mind, her lovely brows smoothing out. “On second thought, never mind.”

She took Sang Wan’s wrist and led her aside. No good deed comes without strings attached, and any favor given today would demand repayment tomorrow. Better to nip it in the bud.

“Hey, junior sister.” The boy wasn’t ready to give up. He tried to call Yue Bai back, flashing a grin. “You haven’t taken your doll yet.”

“No need, thanks.” Yue Bai replied politely.

“Hey.” He started to say more, but his friend tugged his arm and whispered something. With no choice, the boy backed off.

After pulling Sang Wan a dozen meters away, Yue Bai finally let go of her wrist. She touched her nose awkwardly and murmured, “Senior Sister, I’ll get one for you next time.”

Sang Wan’s mood had lifted the moment Yue Bai refused. The Little White Rabbit plushie wasn’t anything special—she wasn’t obsessed with it. But seeing the eager gleam in the girl’s eyes, the words rolled on her tongue once before she said, “Sure, no rush.”

They continued along the path by the Artificial Lake. Besides the ring-toss stalls, there were spots to buy items outright or even trade for them.

The lakeside streetlamps cast a warm glow over the area. Yue Bai’s sharp eyes spotted an identical plushie on one of the stalls. Her face lit up. “Senior Sister, wait here.”

Before Sang Wan could respond, she hurried forward, snatched up the fluffy white doll, and inspected it closely. No flaws. Satisfied, Yue Bai asked, “How much for this one?”

Sang Wan strolled over at a leisurely pace.

“This? Five yuan.” The student manning the stall perked up at the customer.

“Paid.” Yue Bai showed the payment confirmation on her phone before closing the app.

Sang Wan reached her side just then. Yue Bai thrust the plushie into her hands like a triumphant offering, muttering, “He thought he could trade a five-yuan trinket for my WeChat.”

“I’m priceless, you know.”

Sang Wan caught every word. She squeezed the soft Little White Rabbit in her palm and couldn’t help thinking how much it resembled Yue Bai.

“Mm.” She hummed softly, unsure if she was acknowledging the gift or the bold claim.

“Senior Sister, do people set up stalls here every week?” Yue Bai asked, puzzled. If they did, wouldn’t it bother folks just trying to enjoy the Artificial Lake?

Sang Wan glanced at the nearby stalls, where students chatted and laughed in front of them. She curved her lips downward. “No, these are assigned tasks from the academy departments—a bit of early practical training.”

“If you want to sell stuff other times, head to the School Flea Market. Way more foot traffic there,” Sang Wan explained.

Yue Bai nodded in understanding. She rubbed the back of her neck; hours of hunching over had left it achingly sore.

Sang Wan didn’t miss the gesture. Her soft palm pressed gently against Yue Bai’s neck, kneading with light, soothing motions. “Here?”

“Mm…” Yue Bai let out a breathy hum from her nose.

Sang Wan guided Yue Bai to the nearest bench and set the plushie aside. She placed both hands on Yue Bai’s shoulders, pressing her down gently, then circled behind. Her fingers worked in steady rhythm, massaging away the tension.

Yue Bai’s heart skipped. “Senior Sister, no need to go to this trouble.”

“Don’t move. It’ll hurt your neck otherwise.” Sang Wan gazed down at the back of Yue Bai’s head, her fingers tender as they pressed. “Even when you’re drawing, take care not to hunch for too long. You don’t want a stiff neck you can’t straighten out.”

Her tone was half-exaggerated, half-teasing.

“As if, Senior Sister.” Yue Bai laughed. “I take good care of myself.”

Sang Wan’s fingertips pressed a bit harder. “Do you?”

The words were mild, without accusation, but Yue Bai caught an undercurrent. She smiled sheepishly, knowing Sang Wan meant her habit of rushing artwork whenever time allowed. “I’ll plan my time better from now on.”

Satisfied her point had landed, Sang Wan let it drop. She shifted her palms. “Is the pressure okay?”

“Perfect.” Yue Bai said. “A little to the side… yeah, right there…”

Sang Wan chuckled as she followed the directions.

“That’s good, Senior Sister.” Yue Bai reached back to still one of Sang Wan’s hands, twisting her neck experimentally. “Feels much better.”

Sang Wan’s gaze lingered on the hand with a smile. She stayed behind Yue Bai, unmoving, while her free hand stroked the long hair draped over the girl’s shoulders.

It wasn’t until her fingers trailed from Yue Bai’s hair ends that she realized what she was doing.

It was already eight when they returned to the dorm. As usual, Yue Bai flopped onto her computer. Sang Wan grabbed some fresh clothes for a shower.

“Stay here tonight.” Sang Wan stood with her back to Yue Bai, rummaging in the closet. She wavered between two pajama sets, waiting for a reply.

“No need. I can finish painting tomorrow and the next day.” Yue Bai said. No classes over the weekend meant plenty of time to wrap up.

“But I want you to stay and keep me company.” Sang Wan’s voice drifted softly, laced with a faint plea.

Yue Bai’s heart jolted. She turned in disbelief, stunned that Sang Wan would say such a thing. Just then, Sang Wan looked back, their gazes meeting in the air.

“Will you?” Sang Wan blinked, her tone warm.

“Okay.” The word slipped out before Yue Bai’s mind caught up. By the time she thought to take it back, Sang Wan broke into a radiant smile, dazzling as sunlight.

Suddenly, Yue Bai agreed with her own answer.

“I’ll shower first then. Hungry? Want some late-night barbecue?” Sang Wan opened the delivery app.

“No thanks, I’m good.” Yue Bai waved it off, then added, “I ate not long ago—really can’t eat more.”

Sang Wan didn’t push. She took the black pajama set and headed to the bathroom.

Yue Bai relaxed for once. She opened the dorm group chat and typed.

“Not coming back tonight.”

“Friday night no-show? Lovebirds already?” Xu Nuo.

“Single no more?” Chen Han.

“Whoa, that quick?” Zhao Yu.

“What are you all thinking?” Yue Bai.

She set her phone down and dove back into her painting.

After her shower, Sang Wan called out. “Ready to wash up? Senior Sister can chat with you tonight.”

Yue Bai agreed reluctantly, setting down her tablet pen. She took the clean clothes Sang Wan offered. “Okay, Senior Sister. I’m off to shower.”

“Mm.”

The room fell quiet again. Sang Wan rubbed her tired temples, her eyes landing on the still-open computer. She sat down, picked up the tablet pen—still warm from use.

When Yue Bai emerged from the shower, the computer was off.

“First week of classes is over. Time for bed.” Sang Wan said considerately.

One light clicked off. Sang Wan and Yue Bai lay side by side on the bed.

“What do you want to talk about, Senior Sister?” Yue Bai wasn’t great at starting conversations and waited passively for Sang Wan to speak first. But silence stretched on.

“Tell me about your childhood?” Sang Wan suggested after a moment. Her own early years were shadowed by her father’s recent actions; she wanted to hear about Yue Bai’s.

But…

Yue Bai’s pupils contracted sharply. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them with a bitter smile tugging at her lips.

“What’s wrong?” Sang Wan turned her head, spotting the faint sadness in Yue Bai’s eyes. Realizing she’d touched a sore spot, she switched topics hastily. “Tired from the first week of classes?”

“My childhood wasn’t a happy one.” Yue Bai shook her head. She parted her lips to answer the original question. “I grew up hearing ‘bastard’ over and over.”

Sang Wan’s raised hand, meant to comfort, froze midair.

“My parents died when I was little.” Yue Bai went on, turning to face Sang Wan. Seeing the disbelief on her face, she smiled. “My sister raised me—we grew up together. Kindergarten was fine, but as we got older and classmates learned I had no parents, they started calling me ‘bastard’ left and right.”

She spoke simply, but Sang Wan’s heart twisted.

“No, that’s not…” she murmured weakly in comfort.

Yue Bai brushed it off. “It’s fine, all in the past. Then in middle school, I stumbled into drawing by chance. It relaxed me, so I poured all my free time into it.”

“As I grew up, those words stopped bothering me. Painting’s been with me my whole eighteen years.” Yue Bai chuckled lightly and shook her head hard. “All in the past. All in the past.”

“Little Bai.” Sang Wan’s heart clenched in waves of pain, her chest numb and tight. “I’m sorry.” I shouldn’t have brought it up.

How could it not bother her? If it truly didn’t, why the heavy emotion at first mention?