Yan Yu knew that Bai Yan’er’s feelings for her went beyond normal boundaries, and she also knew that if those feelings weren’t controlled, they would eventually turn into an even more obsessive state.
But to “prevent the Blackening Plot,” she couldn’t interfere too much with it.
Rejecting Bai Yan’er might trigger Darkening.
Keeping her distance from Bai Yan’er might also trigger Darkening.
There was nothing she could do.
‘Yan Yu couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.’
‘If only the System had some tool that could monitor Bai Yan’er’s every move.’
‘Even just a simple notification—”Bai Yan’er Current Affection Points: XX, Darkening Risk: XX%”—would give me a reference point, a direction to work toward.’
‘But there’s nothing.’
‘She could only rely on herself.’
After lunch, Yan Yu returned to her residence.
Ruo Xiaozhen opened the door for her, poured a glass of warm water and placed it on the bedside table, then went to the kitchen to wash the dishes.
Yan Yu changed into a clean set of loungewear, lay down on the bed, pulled the covers over herself, and closed her eyes.
Her body was exhausted. Two consecutive classes in the morning, plus a trip to the cafeteria at noon, was already a heavy burden for her frail physique.
She fell asleep quickly, her breathing becoming steady and long, the breeze outside the window gently stirring.
When she woke up in the afternoon, it was already past two. Yan Yu rubbed her eyes, sat up in bed, leaned against the pillow, and spaced out for a while. Then she remembered something, reached for her phone on the bedside table, swiped the screen open, and checked her class schedule and daily plan.
No classes in the afternoon.
That was good news.
But the less good news was that midterm exams were approaching, so she needed to start reviewing.
Unified midterm exams were a special rule in her college. Apparently, other colleges didn’t have such requirements.
Yan Yu opened the school’s academic system and pulled up this semester’s course schedule.
She was an Art Studies major. The courses this semester weren’t too many, but each one had a certain level of difficulty.
The main courses were: Chinese and Foreign Art History, Introduction to Art, Color Composition, Basic Sketching, and an elective, Appreciation of Chinese Painting Techniques.
Among these, Chinese and Foreign Art History and Introduction to Art were theory courses, requiring a lot of memorization and comprehension. The exams were basically closed-book, relying on daily accumulation and pre-test cramming.
Color Composition and Basic Sketching were practical courses. Comparatively, the pressure was lighter. After all, she already had S-Class Painting Skill, so handling these courses was more than enough.
As for Appreciation of Chinese Painting Techniques, although the name sounded professional, the assessment method was a thesis. As long as the content was adequate, she didn’t need to worry too much.
Last semester, Yan Yu’s final exam grades had barely passed. This semester, she wanted to do better.
Not to prove anything, but because grades accounted for a significant portion of the scholarship selection criteria.
She needed that money.
Yan Yu sighed, got out of bed, changed into clothes suitable for going out, and wheeled herself out the door.
The school library was located in the southeast corner of the campus. It was a gray-white five-story building with a square exterior. Yan Yu rolled through the main entrance via the accessible ramp, paused in the hall on the first floor, looked around for a moment, then took the elevator to the third floor.
She found a seat in a corner, locked her wheelchair to the table, then took out her textbooks and notebooks from her bag and started reviewing.
The library was very quiet.
The fluorescent lights above cast a soft white glow onto Yan Yu’s fingers holding the pen.
Time passed by, minute by minute.
After an hour, she began to feel tired.
Her body was too fragile. Concentrating for long periods while studying made her uncomfortable.
Yan Yu put down her pen, rubbed her slightly sore eyes, then slowly stood up holding the edge of the table, wanting to stretch her limbs.
She stood there for a while, supporting herself on the table. Feeling that her legs were no longer as numb, she held onto the wall and shuffled step by step toward the window.
The window was right in front of her.
Yan Yu reached out and pushed the window open a crack.
A cool breeze squeezed through the gap and brushed against her face.
The air outside was much fresher than in the library, carrying the scent of grass and a faint sweetness from wildflowers in the distance.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt much more refreshed.
Just then, she heard voices coming from nearby.
The voices weren’t loud, but because they came from a spot against the wall right next to the window, separated by a row of bookshelves, every word was crystal clear.
“Hey, did you know? Our college is holding a student art exhibition in a couple of days.”
“Yeah, I know. They pick one student from each class, right?”
“Right. I just saw the Student Council’s list—Class Three picked that… that girl, the one who comes to class in a wheelchair.”
“Yan Yu?”
“Yeah, it’s her!”
“Wow, seriously? Is her painting that good?”
“Of course, or she wouldn’t have been chosen. Let me tell you, even though she’s physically weak, her skill is recognized as top-notch. Remember the teacher’s demo piece last time? That was hers.”
“No way…”
“Mm, inside info. Not officially announced yet. But I saw it with my own eyes, in black and white.”
“Then… who did the other classes pick?”
“Not sure. I only glanced at Class Three’s list. Anyway, I’ve memorized the name Yan Yu.”
“Tsk, impressive.”
The sound of footsteps gradually faded, and the voices disappeared between the bookshelves.
Yan Yu stood still, her fingers tightening slightly around the window frame.
An exhibition?
She was chosen?
How come she didn’t know about this?
The City-level Youth Student Art Exhibition was an annual event. Each class in the college could only select one student’s work to participate.
Being chosen this time did surprise her a bit.
But on second thought, maybe this was a good opportunity.
If her work was included in the exhibition, the school would add academic credits, and it would also help with the scholarship evaluation.
Her financial situation was tight right now, so any extra scholarship money would be welcome.
Yan Yu didn’t stay where she was. She walked slowly back to her seat, leaning on the wall, and sat back down.
By evening, the news exploded in the class group chat.
The college officially announced the list of selected students for the exhibition.
Only one person per class.
Class Three’s selection was—Yan Yu.
On the screenshot of the list, the two characters “Yan Yu” lay quietly there. In the class group chat:
“Wow, Yan Yu is amazing!”
“Congratulations!”
“So impressive!”
But there were also dissenting voices.
It was Jiang Muyun’s little clique, Juanmao and Song Jie.
Song Jie: “So weird. Muyun’s paintings are really good, aren’t they? She studied abroad for so long. How come she wasn’t chosen?”
Juanmao: “Yeah, I’ve seen Muyun’s paintings. They’re great! Is there something wrong with the selection criteria?”
Song Jie: “I don’t know. With Muyun’s skill level not being selected… there must be some trickery involved…”
The two of them went back and forth, seemingly defending Jiang Muyun, but every word implied the same thing: Why Yan Yu?
Why was she chosen while Jiang Muyun wasn’t?
Jiang Muyun was an art prodigy returned from overseas, with countless awards and professional training!
Juanmao and Song Jie chatted heatedly in the group, their words dripping with a sour, unsatisfied tone.
Although most people in the class group didn’t engage in their discussion, a couple of people subtly expressed agreement. It seemed Jiang Muyun still had some influence in the class.
But strangely enough—
Jiang Muyun herself didn’t say a single word from start to finish.
Not only were there no messages from her, but even her profile picture lay quietly in the member list, gray and unlit.
Yan Yu didn’t know if Jiang Muyun was hiding behind the screen, watching the news of Yan Yu’s selection and her own rejection, gritting her teeth in anger.
Or if that woman was already plotting some new move against her.
Given Jiang Muyun’s usual style, that possibility wasn’t small.
But even if that were the case, Yan Yu didn’t care.
In fact, she wished Jiang Muyun would do something right now to help her advance the plot.
The scene was already set. All that was missing was the actors in place to complete the script with her.
She put down her phone, turned off the desk lamp, and quietly closed her eyes in the darkness.
Tomorrow would be another day.