Chapter 26

“Yue Bai.” Sang Wan’s voice came out slightly hoarse. She forced herself to ignore the person constantly moving behind her. “What’s this?”

Yue Bai glanced over and took Sang Wan’s hand to poke at the paint palette. She lifted her other hand a little higher. “It’s color mixing paper. Just tear it off when you’re done—no need to wash. Super convenient.”

Sang Wan nodded. She straightened her posture slightly, pulling a bit away from Yue Bai’s hold. But her hand was unconsciously guided along by the other girl, and her eyes fixed on the swaying brush. One by one, objects took shape right before her.

Two hours passed. Yue Bai narrowed her eyes. She had been standing behind Sang Wan the entire time, her waist and back curved forward. She hadn’t noticed at first, but now that everything was painted and it was time to brighten the background cloth, the soreness finally hit her.

Yue Bai pressed her whole body against Sang Wan’s back to ease it somewhat. The brush tip dabbed on a generous amount of white, blended with colors that matched the background cloth.

“Why so much white?” By the end of the whole painting, white was the color Yue Bai had used the most, compared to the others.

“Haha, to make the colors pop brighter.” Yue Bai offered a simple explanation. She added some more white paint. “White’s one of the most important colors out there—usually you don’t want to let it get dirty.”

“I bought a ton of white paint back during training camp, and I still haven’t used it all up.” Yue Bai laughed as she selected colors, her tone turning playfully teasing. “I remember the cheesiest pickup line that was going around our art studio back then: ‘Can I be your white paint?’ Total cringe.”

Sang Wan arched an eyebrow. Her gaze drifted over the box of white paint, still more than half full, and she repeated the phrase with vague understanding. “Can I be your white paint?”

White paint—was it really that important? Sang Wan mulled it over. She subtly studied Yue Bai’s hand gripping hers; the hold had tightened considerably, as if terrified the brush might slip from her fingertips the moment it loosened.

“Is that Senior Sister’s way of confessing to me?” Yue Bai kept her hand moving steadily and teased.

Sang Wan’s expression went blank for a second. Then she couldn’t hold back a laugh. “What, you’d say yes if I did?”

“Mm-hmm. Getting confessed to by someone as popular as Senior Sister? I’d be the one scoring big.” Yue Bai grinned. She didn’t catch the flicker of stiffness on Sang Wan’s face and kept going. “But I’d end up as public enemy number one for half the campus. Pass.” She shook her head in exaggerated regret.

Sang Wan gave a faint smile and said nothing.

After dotting on the final highlight, Yue Bai let out a quiet breath of relief. She glanced down at the time on her wristwatch.

Two and a half hours. A bit slow.

She eased her grip on Sang Wan’s hand. “Senior Sister, painting’s done.”

Sang Wan’s eyes settled on the canvas. She had no clue what she was looking at, but it sure seemed impressive. “Not bad at all. Must mean I’ve got real talent.”

It was a rare moment of self-praise from Sang Wan. She tilted her head back. “Go on, shower me with praise.”

Yue Bai chuckled, words on the tip of her tongue. But as she dipped her head, her gaze locked with Sang Wan’s uplifted one. Their eyes met in the air between them, and the praise caught in Yue Bai’s throat.

From this angle, she had a clear view of Sang Wan’s fair, swan-like neck. Lower still, she could just make out the faint line of her collarbone curving away.

Yue Bai’s ears burned hot in a rush. She covered one with her hand as if to hide it, her throat bobbing. “Senior Sister.”

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Sang Wan replied softly. She tapped curiously at Yue Bai’s loose grip on her hand. “Don’t tell me it’s so awful that Little Bai the teacher can’t even find words to praise it.”

Sang Wan’s voice was gentle as always, but now it dipped even lower, so faint Yue Bai almost missed it.

Truth be told, Yue Bai had done most of the painting; Sang Wan had merely let her arm be guided.

“No, it’s fantastic.” Yue Bai snapped her head back into focus. She mentally kicked herself—dazed by beauty like some fool, nearly stammering.

“Impossible to believe it came from a total beginner.” Yue Bai held her gaze downward, eyes still meeting Sang Wan’s. In those dark pupils, she caught her own tiny reflection.

Yue Bai’s heart lurched hard. She wrenched her eyes away, breaking the contact. “Senior Sister, it’s getting late. Let’s grab dinner.”

It was nearly eleven o’clock—perfect timing for a meal by the time they arrived.

“Sure.” Sang Wan lowered her head slightly but kept watching Yue Bai. Her shoulder-length hair shifted with the motion, a few stray strands landing mischievously on Yue Bai’s arm at her side, tickling lightly.

“Senior Sister, give me a sec to pack up.” Yue Bai sounded like she’d been pardoned, releasing the hand in a hurry.

Sang Wan hadn’t been holding on tightly to begin with. The moment Yue Bai let go, the brush slipped from between her fingers with a clatter. The tip hit the floor, landing in a splotch of paint and streaking heavy color.

Sang Wan eyed the now-tainted white. She pressed her lips together. “Looks like I ruined your white.”

Yue Bai had just emphasized how vital it was.

“No big deal—just scrape it off.” Yue Bai grabbed a palette knife and flicked away the dirty bit with a casual twist of her wrist before snapping the lid shut.

“Senior Sister, hang on. I’ll go wash the brush.” Yue Bai hoisted the water bucket.

Sang Wan gave a neutral “Mm.”

Once Yue Bai was gone, Sang Wan picked up an unopened box of white paint from beside her foot. She studied it for a moment, murmuring under her breath. “Become your white paint?” Her fingertip traced the plastic shell, and a soft laugh escaped her.

Three minutes later, Yue Bai returned. She set down the bucket and fished a pack of tissues from her back pocket, pulling one out to wipe the lingering water from her fingertips.

“Let’s head out, Senior Sister.”

“Should we take this stuff?” Sang Wan gestured to the paints and the still-damp painting taped to the board.

“Nah, leave it.” Yue Bai waved it off. “Art studio’s empty these days. I’ll tidy up when I come back.”

“Fair enough.” Sang Wan didn’t press.

They exited through the north gate and ambled toward the snack street Zhou Qingyan had mentioned. Yue Bai scanned the area and soon spotted a hotpot restaurant.

With the holiday crowds out in force, a long line snaked from the entrance. Some people sat on chairs provided by the shop, scrolling their phones while they waited.

“Way too many people.” Yue Bai’s mouth twitched. They’d be here forever.

Sang Wan nodded in agreement and tugged Yue Bai back half a step. “Watch out—car.”

She pulled out her phone, checked a message on the screen, then took Yue Bai’s hand and crossed straight to the service counter at the door. She showed the display to the staff. “Hi, how much longer for table thirty-seven?”

Yue Bai stared at her in shock. “Senior Sister?”

Sang Wan turned back. “You mentioned hotpot that day, so I figured it’d be slammed. Booked us a spot first thing this morning.”

Yue Bai let out an “Oh,” sighing inwardly. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Senior Sister was always one step ahead.

“Sorry, ma’am—since you weren’t here right away, we had to bump you back a few spots. Just a moment; next table’s yours.” The server replied.

“Got it, thanks.” Sang Wan pocketed her phone with perfect politeness and led Yue Bai off to the side. She glanced at the glum line and couldn’t help chuckling. “What’s with the long face? Bummed out?”

“Yeah.” Yue Bai nodded listlessly. She was supposed to be treating Senior Sister to dinner, and here she was needing Senior Sister’s foresight to even get in. What a scatterbrain.

So frustrating.

“You’re new around here—it’s normal. You’ll catch on. I remember my freshman year, waiting in line with classmates for almost an hour.” Sang Wan casually tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“That rough?” Yue Bai asked, surprised.

“Brutal.” Sang Wan said breezily.

It had been someone else’s treat—a department outing. Fresh off the boat, Sang Wan couldn’t exactly bail, so she toughed out the hour. Never again with that classmate, though.

Failing to plan ahead just burned time. Sang Wan had zero patience for it.

But when Yue Bai had texted that night, her own thrill had sparked something more—she’d happily taken the initiative.

“Table thirty-seven!” The server called out to Sang Wan. “We’ve got seats inside. Right this way.”

Seated at a booth, Yue Bai spotted the QR code sticker on the table. She noticed Sang Wan already scanning it with her phone and whipped out her own, nudging the other aside. “Senior Sister, let me.”

This was her treat, after all.

“Whoever pays works fine.” Sang Wan smiled lightly, opening the menu that had popped up.

“No, it matters.” Yue Bai said stubbornly. “Has to be me.”

Sang Wan met her resolute gaze and laughed helplessly. “Fine, fine.” She set her phone down and accepted Yue Bai’s.

“Senior Sister, what do you want?” Yue Bai prompted eagerly.

“Anything’s good.” Sang Wan scrolled through, tapped a few items, and passed it back. “Your picks now.”

“Heh heh, same here.” Yue Bai beamed goofily and added her choices.

Sang Wan’s smile grew even warmer.