The scent of turpentine still lingered in the hallway, and faint, indistinct noises drifted from the distance.
Yan Yu pushed her wheelchair out of the art studio, heading to the water room next door to wash her brushes.
Just as she reached the corner, a few hushed whispers mixed with snickers floated over clearly.
“Did you see that? With her hands shaking like that, and she used to say she was the best? Professor Chen’s face was practically black today.”
“Right? That jar looked like a rock, and the drapery was stiff as a board.”
“Sigh, times have changed. I heard Senior Su dropped her. The real one is back.”
“I think it’s her health. She’s so sick she can’t even sit steady. No wonder she can’t paint well.”
That sharp, tittering laughter was grating to the ears.
Yan Yu’s fingers, resting on the wheelchair’s wheels, twitched slightly.
Her expression remained blank as she quietly stopped at the boundary between light and shadow in the corridor.
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
A clear, angry female voice suddenly cut through the gossip.
Yan Yu looked up. Reflected in the shiny metal strip of a corridor pillar, she saw a few girls emerge from around the corner, looking somewhat awkward.
Blocking their way was a petite girl.
Even in the school uniform’s shirt and skirt, she couldn’t hide her dazzling radiance.
Her skin was snow-white, a cool, porcelain white.
Her features were bright and striking—upturned eyes, a straight nose, full lips currently pressed together in anger, giving her a vivid, fierce energy.
She was different from Su Qinghan’s cold beauty and Jiang Muyun’s gentle softness. Hers was a kind of beauty that grabbed your attention and was impossible to forget.
It was Bai Yan’er.
Fragments of memory automatically pieced together in Yan Yu’s mind: Bai Yan’er, the Bai family’s young lady.
Bai Yan’er was the adopted daughter brought into the family by Yan Yu’s father after his remarriage. Later, she was discovered to be the long-lost true daughter of the Bai family. Since then, she had left the Yan family, returned to her own, and lived the glamorous life of a young lady.
The original host had always been jealous of Bai Yan’er’s background, always avoiding her.
But Bai Yan’er was like sticky rice cake that couldn’t be shaken off, always trying to get close to this “older sister” who constantly gave her the cold shoulder.
Now, Bai Yan’er frowned, glaring at those girls, her chest rising and falling slightly with agitation. “What right do you have to say whether Sister Yan Yu paints well or not? At the end of last semester, Professor Chen personally praised her sense of structure and spatial handling as the most solid in the grade—why didn’t you speak up then?”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word was clear, carrying an undeniable force. “She just didn’t perform well today! Besides…”
She paused, her gaze darting towards Yan Yu for a split second, her voice lowering but growing more firm.
“She definitely knew that Senior Jiang also wanted to enter the competition. She didn’t paint seriously because she didn’t want to embarrass the other person. What do any of you know?”
With these words, her protective intent was crystal clear, even carrying a hint of “I know the inside story.”
Those girls were cowed by her presence. Perhaps wary of her status as the school belle and her genuinely angry demeanor, they exchanged glances, muttered things like “just talking” and “why so serious,” then hunched their shoulders and hurried away.
The corridor instantly fell quiet.
Bai Yan’er stood in place, taking two deep breaths before turning around.
The intimidating aura from moments ago vanished in an instant.
She looked at Yan Yu in the wheelchair, a nervous expression appearing on her face. Her steps lightened as she shuffled forward two small steps, then stopped again about three or four paces away from Yan Yu.
“Si… sister…” she began, her voice soft and gentle, as if afraid of startling something. “I… did I just meddle? I ran out on my own to speak up for you… you’re not angry with me, are you?”
She stared at Yan Yu with hopeful eyes, anticipation and unease practically overflowing from those beautiful orbs, like a small animal afraid of being pushed away.
According to the original Yan Yu’s temperament, she would probably have put on a cold face, thrown out a “None of your business” or “It has nothing to do with you,” then struggled to wheel herself away quickly, leaving Bai Yan’er standing there alone in a daze.
But Yan Yu just looked at her quietly.
The girl’s eyes held a cautious longing and an utterly unfeigned concern. It felt too real.
Setting aside the tangled past, what stood before her was simply a younger sister who wanted to be good to her older sister but never knew how.
A trace of the original host’s instinctive aversion to the name “Bai Yan’er” still lingered in her chest, but under Yan Yu’s calm observation, it slowly sank away.
She didn’t share the original host’s jealousy. She just thought Bai Yan’er was quite cute.
“It’s fine.” Yan Yu spoke, her voice a bit low and hoarse from earlier coughing. “I know you meant well.”
Bai Yan’er froze completely.
Her eyes widened, long eyelashes fluttering as if she hadn’t understood.
It wasn’t an icy rejection or disgusted evasion, but a calm “It’s fine.”
“Sister! You… you really don’t blame me?” She couldn’t help but shuffle forward another half-step, her voice full of delight. She wanted to say more. “I’ve actually always…”
“Thank you.” Yan Yu gently interrupted her, carrying a sense of finality.
She turned her gaze to the other end of the corridor—Ruo Xiaozhen was peeking out from there, her face full of anxiety, clearly having waited for a while.
“I have to go now.” Yan Yu gave Bai Yan’er a slight nod, her hands returning to the wheelchair wheels. “A friend is waiting for me.”
With that, she exerted force with her wrists. The wheelchair slowly turned and began moving towards Ruo Xiaozhen.
Bai Yan’er stood where she was, watching the frail back in the wheelchair slowly recede. Her lips moved, but in the end, she didn’t call out to stop her.
Only those beautiful eyes, the embers of pleasant surprise still glowing within them, quietly followed Yan Yu.
After a long while, she seemed to come back to herself from a beautiful dream, letting out a soft sigh as she took out her phone from her pocket.
The screen lit up.
The wallpaper was a somewhat old photo.
In it was a picture of Yan Yu she had secretly taken as a child, wearing a faded school uniform, sitting under an old locust tree in the yard reading a book.
Little Yan Yu’s expression held the quiet aloofness—even a touch of coldness—that was familiar from memory, but the photo’s angle was clearly one of careful, cherished affection.
Bai Yan’er’s fingertip gently brushed over the face on the screen, her gaze impossibly tender.
“That’s good, sister…” she whispered softly.