“Haha, yeah, what a coincidence.”
Dai Feng turned around, casually grabbed a loose black silk shirt from the nearby rack, and draped it over herself without buttoning it, leaving the front open to reveal the smooth lines of her waist and the edge of her black underwear underneath.
She leaned against the mirror with her arms crossed, looking a bit lazy and speaking bluntly:
“Dance floor? No interest. I can’t stand those pretentious social occasions, they’re so annoying. Qinghan can like them if she wants, but I can’t take it.”
As she spoke, she nudged the discarded dress on the floor with her toe, her tone disdainful:
“It’s much quieter to be alone. Too noisy over there, gives me a headache. Besides, this dress—”
She tugged at her shirt collar:
“It’s too tight, uncomfortable. Pants are more comfortable. So I slipped out to get some air and change clothes.”
Yan Yu listened quietly, her gaze briefly sweeping over Dai Feng’s open collar and casually tied long hair, then quickly dropping her eyes. She nodded, her voice soft:
“That’s true.”
She turned her head, looking toward the muffled music and voices from outside the changing room, a hint of self-deprecating gloom in her tone:
“Same here… my legs are inconvenient. Everyone’s dancing in pairs, and I was just sitting alone on the sidelines, feeling like a party pooper, so I just came in.”
“Hahaha,” Dai Feng suddenly laughed, her voice clear and straightforward. “You have a funny way of talking.”
She stepped forward a couple of paces, stopping in front of Yan Yu’s wheelchair, and bent down to look her in the eye. Those usually sharp and clear eyes now showed a rare seriousness.
“Miss Yan, why do you always put yourself down so much? You’re a person, not some backdrop. Since you were formally invited, where you want to stay and what you want to do are your freedom. Who cares what others say?”
“Miss Dai, you say that…” Yan Yu sighed softly, her long lashes fluttering.
She seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking more softly, her voice carrying a hint of fragility:
“That’s true in words, but I know in my heart why Miss Jiang invited me alone… probably because of those three years I had with Qinghan, which have always left a bad taste in her mouth.”
Her voice grew lower, filled with bitterness and self-blame.
“It’s all my fault. Back then… I knew perfectly well that Qinghan’s heart was always with Miss Jiang, but I still clung to the ridiculous fantasy that as long as Miss Jiang didn’t return, I… this substitute could keep pretending a little longer, pretend a little better…”
By the end, whether it was the lingering emotions of the original “Yan Yu” or her own immersion in the act, her voice really choked up.
She turned her head slightly and quickly wiped the corner of her eyes with her hand.
That image of her holding back tears, fragile yet forcing herself, pierced like a fine needle into a soft spot in Dai Feng’s heart that she hadn’t even known existed.
She looked at Yan Yu’s slightly reddened eyes, her lowered, trembling lashes, and her tightly pressed lips. A strong surge of protectiveness mixed with heartache rushed up.
‘How could you think that? She’s the one who gave her all and was heartlessly discarded. That Su Qinghan, with her head full of nothing but Jiang Muyun—who does she think she is?’
This thought startled Dai Feng, and she immediately realized her emotions had crossed a line.
Flustered, she quickly stopped those messy thoughts, cleared her throat, and as if to cover it up, stepped half a step closer, almost crouching in front of Yan Yu’s wheelchair.
She tried to make her voice sound calm and reliable.
“Miss Yan,” she said, looking into Yan Yu’s moist eyes, lowering her voice, “Do you remember what I said to you outside just now? I said I was Qinghan’s friend, and you were too. A friend of a friend is still a friend. So what I advised you was sincere. I hope you can take it to heart.”
Yan Yu lifted her eyes and quietly looked at her.
Those eyes, still misty moments ago, now clearly reflected Dai Feng’s image.
“…Thank you, Miss Dai,” she finally spoke softly, her voice still a little hoarse, but she tried to lift the corners of her mouth into a reluctant but gentle smile. “Thank you for caring so much about my situation. Actually, coming here today… I’ve been feeling pretty down. Hearing you say that makes me feel a lot better.”
She paused, her gaze lingering on Dai Feng’s face for a very brief moment.
“Miss Dai, you’re a very gentle person.”
The word “gentle” spoken with such sincerity made Dai Feng’s heart skip a beat.
Almost instinctively, she averted her eyes, but couldn’t help quickly glancing back, her gaze resting on Yan Yu’s face, still marked with tears but trying to smile.
Yan Yu saw every bit of that subtle wavering and evasion, keeping the vulnerable look on her face while calmly analyzing in her mind.
‘Got it.’
She suddenly thought of who would be the most suitable person to give the “Mint of Longing” to.
Since she now needed to continue playing the “devoted substitute” in front of Su Qinghan and also had to “just right” take Jiang Muyun’s provocation to earn “Acting Value,” then this Dai Feng, who seemed able to influence Su Qinghan, was clearly easier to approach than Su Qinghan and Jiang Muyun, and even… seemed to have developed some special sympathy for her—wasn’t she the ideal helper?
Her mind racing with calculations, Yan Yu adjusted her expression perfectly.
She took a soft breath, as if gathering courage, and raised her hand, her fingertips hesitantly tugging at the open sleeve of Dai Feng’s shirt.
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