Dai Feng didn’t know how she had helped Yan Yu change clothes, nor how she had helped her sit steadily in the wheelchair.
The entire process felt like her consciousness had been drained away. She only remembered the residual warmth on her fingertips and the subtle fragrance wafting from Yan Yu—like some unknown floral scent, faint, impossible to wipe away.
“…Okay.”
She heard her own dry voice.
Yan Yu had already changed into that dress. She turned her face sideways and smiled at her, eyes curving.
“Thank you, Miss Dai.”
Dai Feng opened her mouth, wanted to say “You’re welcome,” but found her throat blocked by something. She only nodded hastily.
Then Yan Yu turned the wheelchair and slowly went toward the changing room door.
Dai Feng stood still, watching her slender back gradually grow distant, suddenly feeling an emptiness in her chest.
She subconsciously raised her hand to her nose; the back of her hand still carried that fragrance.
She stared blankly at the direction of the door. Yan Yu had already disappeared around the corner of the corridor, but her gaze was still fixed there, as if glued by something.
‘Strange. Why have I been thinking about her so much?’
She suddenly snapped back to reality, putting her hand down in some embarrassment.
Perhaps… perhaps she had always been avoiding her concern for this “ex-girlfriend of a friend.”
She told herself it was just sympathy, just disapproval of Su Qinghan’s actions.
But after that brief time together in the changing room, that trace of fragrance on her body could not be driven away no matter what, as if it had seeped into her skin, pulsing with her heartbeat.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
When she opened them again, her feet had already moved before reason.
She quickly walked out of the changing room, crossed the corridor, and caught up with that figure near the side door of the banquet hall.
“Miss Yan!”
Yan Yu turned at the sound, slightly startled.
Dai Feng strode up to her, her breath still a little unsteady.
She looked at Yan Yu’s calm eyes. The words “Let me push your wheelchair” lingered on her tongue, and finally slipped out. Her voice was lighter and softer than she had expected.
“I… I can push your wheelchair for you.”
Yan Yu looked at her. A flash of surprise went through those beautiful eyes, then she blinked lightly as if uncertain.
“This… wouldn’t it be too much trouble for Miss Dai?”
“No.”
Dai Feng answered too quickly, so quickly that even she felt a bit embarrassed, her earlobes slightly warm.
“Anyway… I don’t have anything to do anyway.”
Yan Yu looked at her quietly for two seconds, then suddenly curved her lips into a bright smile.
“Then… thank you, Miss Dai.”
That smile was like something gently bumping against Dai Feng’s heart—not painful, but making her skip a beat.
She lowered her eyes, walked around to the back of the wheelchair, grasped the handles, steadied her breath, and then pushed Yan Yu slowly toward the banquet hall.
*
Inside the banquet hall, lights swirled, music lingered.
In the center of the dance floor, Su Qinghan and Jiang Muyun were resting their hands on each other’s shoulders and waists, slowly rotating to the waltz rhythm.
Jiang Muyun was wearing a moon-white long skirt, her hair loosely tied up at the back, with a few strands falling by her ears, still that gentle and elegant image from memory.
But Su Qinghan’s mind was not on her at all.
Her gaze drifted over Jiang Muyun’s shoulder, scanning the crowd as if looking for someone.
‘Where is Yan Yu?’
She had been missing since a while ago.
Su Qinghan recalled the image of Yan Yu sitting alone in a corner, forgotten by everyone, and a surge of indescribable irritation rose in her heart.
She shouldn’t have left her alone there.
Even if… even if things between them were over, she shouldn’t have let her be embarrassed.
“Qinghan?”
Jiang Muyun’s voice pulled her back.
“Huh?”
Su Qinghan snapped back, almost stepping on the other’s hem, and hastily adjusted her stride.
“You’re spacing out again.”
Jiang Muyun’s tone carried a hint of reproach, but her lips still maintained a proper smile.
“That’s the third time. If this keeps up, my feet are going to suffer.”
“Sorry.”
Su Qinghan said in a low voice, forcing herself to focus back on the dance steps.
But her mind still uncontrollably thought about Yan Yu.
‘That dress she wore today… was it stained?’
‘Did she change into another one?’
‘What will she do alone?’
‘Her leg…’
“Turn left.”
Jiang Muyun reminded softly.
Su Qinghan reacted half a beat late, hastily following, but because she turned too quickly, she nearly pulled Jiang Muyun down.
“Qinghan!”
Jiang Muyun finally frowned, her voice carrying noticeably more displeasure.
“What are you thinking about? This dance has almost been interrupted three times by you. If you don’t want to dance, we can just stop.”
“I’m sorry.”
Su Qinghan apologized, her tone sincere but with a trace of fatigue.
“Muyun, I didn’t mean to. I just… got a little distracted.”
Jiang Muyun looked at her, with scrutiny and faint dissatisfaction in her eyes.
She didn’t say anything else, just put her hand back on Su Qinghan’s shoulder and continued dancing.
Su Qinghan matched her steps, but a wave of inexplicable reluctance surged in her heart.
‘They are both girls, so why does she always have to be the one to give in to Jiang Muyun?’
She knew Jiang Muyun meant no harm, just that she was used to being indulged and taken care of.
Since childhood, Jiang Muyun had always been the one everyone held in their palms, and Su Qinghan had willingly become the one who tolerated her.
But occasionally—just occasionally—she would have such complaints in her heart.
Although she had always considered herself magnanimous, magnanimity didn’t mean she wouldn’t get tired.
The dance finally ended.
Su Qinghan released Jiang Muyun’s hand and said with a smile,
“You danced really well.”
At the same time, she raised her hand to wipe the thin sweat on her forehead.
Jiang Muyun stood before her; the light from above cast her silhouette like a painting.
She was still as beautiful and gentle as before, with sparkling light in her eyes when she smiled.
“How did I dance?”
Jiang Muyun tilted her face slightly, her tone carrying a bit of coquettish expectation.
“Mm, very good.”
Su Qinghan said.
Jiang Muyun curved her lips in satisfaction, looking at her with gentle eyes, as if waiting for her to say something more.
Su Qinghan also looked at her, at that face that had made her heart race countless times.
She should be happy, should be immersed in the sweetness of this reunion after long separation.
But for some reason, her gaze disobediently passed over Jiang Muyun’s shoulder and landed on a certain place behind her.
There, she spotted the figure she had been thinking about just now.
Yan Yu. She was wearing a cream-colored dress, sitting quietly in a wheelchair, being pushed slowly in from the side door of the banquet hall.
The light fell on her pale face, making her eyes especially clear.
Su Qinghan’s eyes brightened slightly, and the corner of her mouth twitched involuntarily.
But the next second, her smile froze on her face.
She noticed the person behind Yan Yu.
—Dai Feng.
‘Why is it her?’
‘Why is she with Yan Yu?’Chapter 45: Childhood Friend Clings to Ex-Girlfriend? No Way?