Chapter 69 Part 2

“Next time you have a chance, have Little Wan bring you back to the main house. Grandpa wants to chat more with you,” Grandpa Sang said as he climbed into the car that had come to pick him up.

“Alright, Grandpa. See you later,” Yue Bai replied politely, waving goodbye.

Once Grandpa Sang had left, Ming Qisang and Qin Yan didn’t linger either.

“Sis, I’m heading back now,” Sang Lin said, waving his phone. “I have plans to play basketball with some classmates this afternoon.”

Sang Wan gave a small hum of acknowledgment.

In just a few short minutes, only Sang Wan and Yue Bai were left.

They weren’t in a rush to head back right after eating, so they took a leisurely stroll along the road, treating it as a post-meal walk.

Yue Bai had her hand tucked into the pocket of Sang Wan’s coat, her fingers playfully tracing patterns in Sang Wan’s palm. After a long silence, she chose her words carefully. “Is Senior Sister unhappy?”

“Why do you ask?” Sang Wan replied.

“You hardly smiled at all,” Yue Bai said, leaning closer to her side. “Is it because of… Dad?”

Yue Bai had almost called Ming Qisang by name, but she curved her words at the last moment.

“Mm.” Sang Wan nodded. She tilted her head back wistfully. Pedestrians hurried along the crosswalk, and the green light countdown was nearly over.

Sang Wan stopped, waiting for the next green light.

As they crossed, Sang Wan spoke slowly. “My mother went against Grandpa’s wishes and insisted on marrying my dad—that poor kid with nothing to his name back then. They argued about it countless times, and she even went on a hunger strike to force Grandpa to agree.”

“But when I was six, Mom had an accident and fell into a coma.” Sang Wan’s voice was very soft.

“That’s when Little Lin and I were left without anyone to look after us. Dad was always off somewhere, coming home late at night. Grandpa was busy with work and might only see us once a year… Then, when I was fifteen, Mom passed away.” Sang Wan recounted those years quietly, consciously leaving out many details. “Last year, my dad got married—to that woman from earlier. And she brought a kid with her.”

“The kid’s already eleven. Ming Qisang claimed it was Qin Yan’s child from before, and since they were married now, he had to take care of it too.” Sang Wan let out a mocking laugh. “Does he think I’m a three-year-old he can fool? It’s impossible. The kid’s surname is Ming, just like his, and they look nine-tenths alike. Who would believe there’s no connection?”

“Little Lin secretly got samples of Ming Qisang’s and the kid’s hair for a paternity test. The results showed they were blood-related. But Little Lin didn’t want to upset me, so he lied and said the kid wasn’t his.”

Sang Wan’s tone grew even softer.

That winter break, to confirm it herself, she had arranged another paternity test.

The results were obvious.

So she had asked Yan Nianyi to help investigate the hospital records from when Qin Yan gave birth to Ming Ye.

Yue Bai’s mouth hung slightly open as she stared at Sang Wan without blinking. By the timeline, it was highly likely that Ming Qisang had cheated.

“Yes, Ming Qisang cheated,” Sang Wan said, as if reading Yue Bai’s thoughts, enunciating each word. “While my mom was still in her coma.”

That was why Sang Wan felt no closeness to Ming Qisang. She couldn’t accept that the man she had respected and loved growing up hid such a disgusting secret beneath his clean facade.

“Grandpa hasn’t met Ming Ye and doesn’t care to investigate Ming Qisang,” Sang Wan continued. “So when Ming Qisang married Qin Yan last year, Grandpa only found out at the last minute. For my sake and Little Lin’s, he had no choice but to swallow his anger.”

“That’s why Grandpa Sang was so blunt with Ming Qisang,” Yue Bai said, understanding now.

“Pretty much,” Sang Wan replied. “Grandpa never liked him to begin with, and after he married Qin Yan, he liked him even less. He just kept up appearances on the surface.”

Sang Wan closed her eyes. Those experiences were ones she didn’t want to dwell on, especially not the hardships of her childhood—she skipped over them entirely when telling Yue Bai.

Yue Bai’s heart ached as she listened. She finally understood why Senior Sister had no sense of security. With her mother bedridden during her early years and her father neglecting her, how could she feel safe when she was so utterly alone?

“Senior Sister, you still have me,” Yue Bai said tenderly, stepping in front of Sang Wan to hug her. “I’ll always be by your side.”

Sang Wan tugged at the corner of her mouth, a faint sound escaping from her nose.

If she had met Yue Bai when she was young, would things have been less painful? Would she have been happier?

For the first time, Sang Wan greedily wanted to claim something all for herself. She wanted Yue Bai to belong to her alone—completely and utterly hers.

“Let’s take a cab back,” Sang Wan said. “I’m a bit tired. I want to go home and sleep.”

“Okay,” Yue Bai replied softly.

Back at the Teachers’ Apartment, Sang Wan took a quick shower, changed into pajamas, and lay down on the bed.

“Aren’t you going to nap?” Sang Wan asked.

“I’ll shower too. You rest first, Senior Sister,” Yue Bai said, her pajamas draped over her arm.

In the bedroom, the curtains were drawn, and the lights were off. Sang Wan lay with her eyes open, staring quietly at the ceiling.

Drowsiness gradually overtook her, and her consciousness faded.

She dreamed of many things: the happy days when Mom was still around and the four of them lived in harmony; the way her own personality grew twisted and obsessive after Mom took ill; the rage and grief when she learned of her father’s marriage…

In the end, she dreamed that Yue Bai had somehow learned of her childhood ordeals and joined those people standing against her, condemning her for being cold and cruel.

Bewildered, she tried to explain, but Yue Bai wouldn’t listen. She reached out to touch her, only for Yue Bai to shrink away in disgust.

The scene shifted…

In a raging storm, wild rain lashed down on her. Her phone screen glowed, covered in water droplets that gathered and dripped from the edges.

She fumbled to wipe them away, but they kept coming. In moments, the screen was drenched again, just like the rain sliding down her forehead, mingled with who knew how many tears.

Proud as she was, in that moment, she was utterly pathetic. She waited desperately for Yue Bai’s reply.

To think she would stoop to such a lowly tactic just to make Yue Bai believe her.

No message came from the other end for a long time. She tilted her head back with a self-mocking laugh, facing the downpour.

She couldn’t tell if it was her heart or somewhere else that hurt—her whole body trembled.

Look at you, Sang Wan. How pathetic are you, to beg for belief this way?

An hour passed, then two… The rain stopped and started again, off and on. She hung her head, her eyes soaked.

This year’s rains were especially relentless. At some point, an umbrella appeared overhead. She looked up hopefully, but the last spark in her eyes died when she saw who it was.

The blurry figure stood silently holding the umbrella—it wasn’t clear who, but Sang Wan knew it wasn’t Yue Bai.

She was humble and pitiable. The gentle smile she always wore had vanished from her face; her eyes held no light.

Her Little Bai had abandoned her after all…

“Senior Sister, Senior Sister?” Yue Bai called out in panic, trying to wake the woman from her nightmare.

She had just come out of the bathroom after turning in last week’s assignment to the teacher. As she entered the bedroom and before she could get into bed, she heard faint, muffled sobs.

Tears slid continuously from the corners of Sang Wan’s eyes, tracing lines down her cheeks to her ears and soaking the pillow.

Yue Bai didn’t know when Sang Wan had started crying. Terrified, she called out to the dreaming woman, but there was no response no matter how she tried.

Yue Bai’s breath caught.

“Senior Sister.” Finally, Sang Wan’s eyelids fluttered.

Sang Wan shuddered violently. She opened her eyes in terror, her pupils contracting from sheer fright.

“Little Bai, listen to Senior Sister explain—I really didn’t, didn’t do those things, really, believe me.” Tears welled up in Sang Wan’s eyes as she spoke anxiously, her words jumbled. “Those things have nothing to do with me, Little Bai, really, don’t listen to those people.”

“Senior Sister.” Yue Bai tightly hugged the tearful person, soothing her gently, “Mm-hmm, it’s not your fault, Senior Sister. Don’t be afraid.”

“Really, it wasn’t me. I didn’t push that person.” Sang Wan repeated over and over, her murmured words unable to form a complete sentence. “No… why doesn’t anyone believe me, why…”

Yue Bai felt waves of dull pain in her chest. She carefully soothed her: “I believe you, I do believe you. Don’t be afraid, I’m here, don’t cry…”

Sang Wan huddled in Yue Bai’s arms, her forehead pressed against Yue Bai’s shoulder, her sopping tears soaking through the pajamas and touching skin.

Yue Bai guessed that Sang Wan must have dreamed of something from her childhood. She took a deep breath and stroked along her back.

“Don’t leave me…” Sang Wan’s shoulders heaved, her words mangled by sobs, but she still persisted in speaking, as if she wouldn’t have another chance if she didn’t say it all at once. “Please, don’t leave me…”

“I can give you anything—everything.” Sang Wan sobbed brokenly, “Please…”

“Senior Sister.” Yue Bai’s throat was dry and sore, a bitter ache making it hard to bear. Her eyes were red-rimmed too, as she fought back the sob rising in her voice. “I won’t leave you. I’ll be with you for the rest of my life. Really.”

“Don’t leave…” Sang Wan tightly clutched Yue Bai’s back, her nails scratching countless red marks through the thin sleepwear. “Please, don’t lie to me…”

Yue Bai nods: “Really, I’m not lying to you.”

Sang Wan leaned against Yue Bai’s shoulder, her faint sobs gradually growing louder.

She held Sang Wan, wondering what Senior Sister had gone through in the past to become so fragile and helpless.

“Why won’t you come see me? Why did you leave me all alone?” Sang Wan accused.

Yue Bai knew she was blending her dream with reality.

She could only go along with her: “No, I didn’t leave you. How could I bear to leave you?”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to explain. Why did you leave me? Why couldn’t you pity me just a little?”

Sang Wan was like possessed; she suddenly shoved the person in front of her.

Yue Bai was caught off guard and pushed onto the bed.

Sang Wan pounced on top of her, kissing Yue Bai chaotically and dazedly: “Please, don’t abandon me. Senior Sister really loves you so much. I can give you anything…” Her palm pressed against the hem of the pajamas and yanked it down forcefully, revealing the superior figure beneath. “All of it to you, okay? Please, believe me. Don’t leave me…”

Yue Bai’s mind went blank. Her mouth was invaded by a forceful kiss, and a warm body pressed against her in an instant.

Yue Bai painfully supported Sang Wan’s body, trying to avoid hurting her.

“Senior Sister, don’t do this.” Yue Bai’s breathing was unsteady. The room had no AC on, and she worried Sang Wan would get cold, so she yanked the blanket over them both with one hand.

A faint metallic taste of blood emanated from her mouth, like some kind of signal. Sang Wan dazedly lifted her head, her exquisite and radiant face streaked with tears.