Chapter 52

During the three-day New Year’s holiday, Yue Bai divided her time between being fed by Sang Wan and preparing her end-of-term assignments. She barely had a moment to herself over the last two days.

Sang Wan watched her with heartache and occasionally prepared something nourishing to help build her strength.

On the last day, midway through lunch, Sang Wan carried a steaming bowl of pork rib soup to Yue Bai, who was focused on drawing at the computer. After taking a sip, Yue Bai teased, “At this rate, my weight really is going to double.”

“A little chub is good,” Sang Wan replied, wiping a bit of soup from the corner of her lips. “You’re too skinny.”

“I’m afraid I’ll be too heavy to walk,” Yue Bai said, turning her gaze back to the screen. The dense layers of coatings were a dizzying mess, but after grouping the similar sections, it looked much cleaner.

Sang Wan said offhandedly, “No worries. Worst case, Senior Sister will take care of you.”

At those words, Yue Bai’s hand trembled mid-stroke. She was using the brush tool, and a glaring scratch marred the canvas. Stunned, she quickly hit undo, and the errant line vanished.

She inwardly berated herself. Yue Bai, oh Yue Bai—how could you lose your composure over a single sentence from Senior Sister? How could you degenerate like this? You need to stand on your own two feet and hold up the sky for her.

But before that resolve could take root, another thought slipped in: Being taken care of by Senior Sister didn’t sound so bad.

Sang Wan stood behind her, peering at the drawing on the screen. “How much longer?”

“Probably a while, but no rush. As long as I turn it in before the semester ends,” Yue Bai replied casually.

Sang Wan nodded. “Could you run over to Wen Mo’s and borrow some soy sauce for Senior Sister?”

The kitchen bottle was empty. They’d put off buying more to save time, and heading out now would take too long.

“Sure thing.” Yue Bai added a few more strokes before standing. On her way out of the bedroom, she doubled back and hit save on the keyboard. “Almost forgot that.”

Sang Wan tapped her forehead affectionately. “Hurry back.”

“Got it.”

Yue Bai headed straight to the Teachers’ Apartment where Wen Mo lived. She’d already messaged on the way to check if they were home.

After knocking politely three times, she stepped back half a pace and waited.

A dozen seconds later, the door swung open. Zhou Qingyan leaned lazily against the frame. “Little Junior Sister! What’s up?”

“Senior Sister sent me to borrow some soy sauce,” Yue Bai said.

“Ah, the soy sauce run.” Zhou Qingyan grinned and stepped aside. “Kitchen’s that way—help yourself.”

“Senior Sister Wen.” Yue Bai spotted her right away, cradling a tablet on the sofa.

Wen Mo looked up and smiled in greeting.

With the soy sauce in hand, Yue Bai should have left, but she lingered in the living room, eyes flicking between the pair on the sofa and those murmuring nearby. She hesitated, unsure whether to voice the question burning inside her.

“What’s up?” Zhou Qingyan caught her hesitation and flopped onto the sofa, leaning lazily against Wen Mo’s shoulder.

Yue Bai bit her lower lip and approached the sofa, clutching the dark bottle. Her big, watery eyes brimmed with confusion. “Senior Sister Zhou, I want to know what happened between Senior Sister He and Senior Sister Sang.”

Some things, she couldn’t bring herself to ask Sang Wan directly.

Wen Mo glanced up from her tablet. “Sang Wan didn’t tell you?”

“I haven’t asked her,” Yue Bai murmured. Every time the urge struck, she worried about dredging up painful memories.

Senior Sister He must have done something to her.

Wen Mo and Zhou Qingyan exchanged a glance. The air grew thick, and after several seconds of silence, Wen Mo spoke softly. “Yan Yan, you tell her.”

“Sang Wan never told Little Bai. Maybe she doesn’t want her to know,” Zhou Qingyan said hesitantly.

“No,” Wen Mo said with certainty. Having known Sang Wan since childhood, she understood her well. “Go ahead.”

“Alright.” Zhou Qingyan sighed and beckoned Yue Bai to the sofa opposite.

Yue Bai sat, soy sauce bottle in hand, staring fixedly at Zhou Qingyan. Tension coiled in her chest; her free hand clenched tightly in her lap. Her pale little face was etched with seriousness.

Zhou Qingyan gathered her thoughts, tapping the coffee table as she began slowly. “He Shichun likes Sang Wan. You’ve picked up on that, right?”

“Mm.” Yue Bai nodded. She’d sensed it in their two encounters—the way He Shichun fixated on Sang Wan.

“You’ve probably heard Sang Wan has two really persistent suitors,” Zhou Qingyan went on.

Yue Bai nodded again. Xu Nuo had mentioned it early in the semester.

One was Li Ci. The other… Her pupils widened. Could it be He Shichun?

“Right—Li Ci and He Shichun.” Zhou Qingyan noted her dawning realization. “But He Shichun was far more direct than Li Ci.”

“Leveraging her gender advantage, she could chase after Sang Wan anytime, anywhere, crowds be damned. Sang Wan knew what she was after but never called her out. That indifference only emboldened He Shichun; she got even more clingy. Eventually, Sang Wan’s patience snapped, and she turned cold.” Zhou Qingyan winced, brow furrowing in distress as she cut to the heart of it. “But that was nothing compared to what she pulled last time.”

Yue Bai held her breath. The truth was almost within reach.

“Last summer—right after your high school graduation. Me, Mo Mo, Hua Yun, and Sang Wan went on a group trip. Midway through, Sang Wan got a call from He Shichun. She claimed she was heading abroad and wanted one last meeting before leaving—luring Sang Wan over.”

“Sang Wan figured it was no big deal since she was going anyway, so we rerouted to the spot He Shichun named.”

“To give them space for their goodbye, the three of us waited in a nearby milk tea shop.” Zhou Qingyan paused, exhaling deeply.

“While we were chatting there, Sang Wan’s call came in. Her voice was terrifyingly hoarse, thick with congestion and ragged breaths.”

Yue Bai’s fists clenched, her chest tight with dread. She could guess the rest.

“What did He Shichun do to Senior Sister?” Her throat felt parched.

Zhou Qingyan nodded gravely. “We rushed right over and found her in an empty alley.”

She struggled to convey the scene. Sang Wan slumped against a stone wall, face flushed unnaturally, one hand digging into the soft flesh at her waist to cling to clarity, the other still gripping the phone.

He Shichun lunged for it but took a solid kick to the ground from Sang Wan— no match for someone who trained regularly.

The moment they arrived, Sang Wan’s fraying willpower crumbled like an avalanche. She slid down the wall, phone clattering beside her.

Wen Mo darted forward, scooping her up; her skin burned fever-hot.

Only after getting Sang Wan to the hospital did they realize they’d overlooked He Shichun, who had slunk away down the other end of the alley.

“Her mind was already fogging over, so we got her to the hospital fast,” Zhou Qingyan said carefully.

“Did He Shichun drug Senior Sister?” Yue Bai forced out, anger simmering beneath the words.

Zhou Qingyan nodded slowly. “Yes. She dosed Sang Wan but couldn’t follow through with us there. Sang Wan didn’t wake until evening.”

“We wanted to settle things with He Shichun, but she’d already switched flights and boarded,” Zhou Qingyan finished, lips pressing thin.

Pain twisted through Yue Bai’s heart. If Senior Sister had gone alone… She couldn’t bear to think it.

No wonder Senior Sister despised He Shichun. It all clicked now.

She itched to kick her herself. She’d once thought He Shichun pretty, with impeccable poise—now Yue Bai wanted to slap her past self.

Blind.

“And that’s it? No consequences?” Yue Bai pressed.

“Er… I don’t know the details,” Zhou Qingyan trailed off.

She couldn’t risk tarnishing Sang Wan’s image in Yue Bai’s eyes.

“How does she have the nerve to come back? To parade in front of Senior Sister like that?” Yue Bai seethed. The woman was utterly shameless, brazen beyond belief.

Zhou Qingyan’s frown deepened. With He Shichun’s arrogance and sheer idiocy, she must have assumed the incident blew over—no real fallout, Sang Wan never pursued it—so why not swagger back?

Sang Wan had agreed to the dinner for the sake of friends like Wu Ling and Jia Bing, who knew nothing.

Another unwitting signal: Sang Wan had moved on.

But strutting right in her face? Unthinkable.

Pure folly.

“It’s getting late. Head back—don’t keep Sang Wan waiting,” Wen Mo said, checking the time on her tablet.

“Mm… Goodbye, Senior Sister.” Yue Bai couldn’t quite put a name to the emotion churning inside her—a tangled mess of feelings. She rose to her feet and bid farewell to Wen Mo.

Carrying the soy sauce bottle, Yue Bai jogged back home.

Sang Wan glanced at the time on her phone, mentally calculating the distance, her gaze lowering slightly. It had been so long—why hadn’t she returned yet?

“Senior Sister.” Panting for breath, Yue Bai pushed open the door. There, standing in the entryway and waiting for her, was Sang Wan.

“Why are you back so late?” Sang Wan gently took the soy sauce bottle from her, her slender fingers pinching Yue Bai’s cheek.

The instant Yue Bai laid eyes on Sang Wan, her own eyes abruptly reddened. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, a thin veil of mist clouding her vision. She threw herself fiercely into Sang Wan’s arms. “Senior Sister…”

Her voice broke into choked sobs, her chest tight as if crushed beneath a massive boulder. Breathing grew labored, her nose stung, and her head buzzed amid the sharp pangs of pain.

Her eyes burned as something welled up, ready to spill over. Yue Bai wiped at them unconsciously—her fingers came away wet.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry.” Sang Wan set the soy sauce bottle down on the nearby counter and drew the trembling figure in her arms closer, murmuring soft reassurances. “What happened? Why are you crying like this, so pitifully?”

“I… I…” Yue Bai’s words dissolved into uncontrollable sobs the moment she tried to speak, every sound twisting into muffled whimpers.

“There, there.” Sang Wan patted Yue Bai’s back with aching tenderness, helping her steady her breathing. “Don’t talk for now.”