Su Qinghan’s heart trembled violently.
Yes.
She had said that.
She was the one who suggested going out today. She was the one who proposed the aquarium. She was the one who asked Yan Yu to accompany her. She was the one who decided on dinner. Every single thing had been her initiative. Every single promise had been made by her.
Yan Yu had simply come as invited, quietly accompanying her for an entire day. And now, with just one phone call from Jiang Muyun, was she going to overturn all those promises?
She looked down at her phone screen. The ringtone had been ringing for a long time—so long that it felt like this call would never end.
Su Qinghan’s finger lightly slid across the screen.
The ringing stopped. She hadn’t hung up. The other party had. The phone screen went dark, the words “Jiang Muyun” disappeared, replaced by a blurry photo on the lock screen. Her finger hovered above the screen for a moment, then slowly lowered.
“Qinghan?” Yan Yu’s voice rang out again.
Su Qinghan lifted her head and met those quiet eyes.
“…It’s nothing,” she said, taking a deep breath and forcing her expression back to normal. “Let’s go. Didn’t you say we were getting dinner?”
She walked behind Yan Yu and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair. Her hands were trembling slightly.
“Qinghan,” Yan Yu’s voice came from in front of her, soft and gentle. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Su Qinghan said. She paused, then added another sentence, as if to explain, or perhaps to convince herself. “The phone… I’ll call her back later. Let’s eat first.”
Yan Yu didn’t press further. She just hummed softly in acknowledgment, then sat quietly in her wheelchair, letting Su Qinghan push her toward the seaside restaurant.
Lights on the square lit up one by one, casting two long shadows that stretched far across the ground—overlapping, separating, then overlapping again.
Su Qinghan pushed the wheelchair, step by step. Her heart was more unsettled than it had ever been. And she was afraid. Not afraid of Jiang Muyun being angry. Afraid of herself—afraid of that thing slowly growing inside her heart, something she couldn’t control.
—
The dance club’s rehearsal hall was on the top floor of the teaching building, a room nearly two hundred square meters in size.
The entire south wall was floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Early summer sunlight poured in from outside, spreading a golden glow across the wooden floor. Several slender girls were practicing in the center of the room. The music’s rhythm wasn’t fast. Their arms traced arcs through the air. Spin, leap, land. The sound of their toes hitting the floor was as synchronized as if it came from a single person. Tap, tap, tap, each step precisely on beat.
Bai Yan’er stood in front of the mirror, arms crossed over her chest. She wore a tight black dance leotard with a neckline that opened to her collarbone, revealing her elegantly curved neck and a strip of pale shoulder. Her long hair was loosely gathered at the back of her head, secured by a black rubber band. A few stray strands hung down from the sides of her ears, swaying lightly with her subtle breaths.
The final note faded. The girls completed the full routine, panting slightly, their chests heaving. Their arms slowly lowered from the air, their bodies relaxing from the stretched positions. They brought their toes together and stood in a neat horizontal line.
One of the girls, her hair in a bun, turned around, wiping sweat from her forehead with a towel. She looked at Bai Yan’er, who was standing near the doorway. “President, how was that last run? Did we do well?”
Bai Yan’er didn’t answer.
“President?” The girl with the bun tilted her head and raised her voice slightly.
Bai Yan’er snapped back to reality. “Ah, sorry.” She blinked, pulling her gaze back from the window. “I wasn’t watching.”
“Not watching?” The bun girl’s eyes widened. “President Bai, what’s wrong with you?”
Bai Yan’er gave a bitter smile, her lips curving into an apologetic arc. “Sorry.”
A short-haired girl standing nearby put down her water bottle, sidled over, and looked Bai Yan’er up and down. Her eyes carried a knowing, mischievous glint. “President,” she said, dragging out the last syllable in the tone of a detective who had just uncovered a major clue, “You’ve been acting weird lately. Your body’s here in the classroom, but your mind isn’t. Your body’s here in the rehearsal hall, but your mind isn’t.”
“Have I?” Bai Yan’er tried to deny it.
“You have!” The bun girl nodded emphatically, hands on her hips. “And it’s not just one or two days. It’s been many days! We’ve all been guessing what’s wrong with you. Lately, the president’s always staring at her phone in a daze. No, wait—she’s not smiling goofily. She’s frowning. That means she’s troubled by love!”
This statement sent ripples through the rehearsal hall. Several girls who had been stretching turned their heads, their faces glowing with gossipy excitement. Their ears perked up involuntarily.
“Really? The president’s in love? With who? Do we know them?”
“Wow, the school belle troubled by love. This is straight out of an idol drama.”
The girls chattered noisily, turning the rehearsal hall into a lively marketplace in no time.
“There’s no such thing. You’re overthinking it. I’m really not dating anyone,” Bai Yan’er said, caught off guard. She waved her hands repeatedly, her bitter smile deepening.
“Really?” The bun girl’s drawn-out tone was full of suspicion. She tilted her head and looked at Bai Yan’er as if interrogating a criminal. “Or does that mean you have a crush? You’re still chasing them? A secret crush?”
Bai Yan’er’s smile froze for an instant. That instant was very short—no more than a fraction of a second. It wasn’t surprise or shyness. It was a defensive reflex triggered by having a secret exposed.
“Don’t just guess wildly here,” she said, quickly regaining her composure. “Have you rested enough? We’ll run it again in a bit. The transitions in that last run weren’t smooth enough, especially the landing after the third rotation. Four of you didn’t land at the same time.”
The topic was successfully diverted. The girls let out a chorus of groans—the president’s ears were too sharp. She could even tell who landed first. But under Bai Yan’er’s signal, they reformed their positions.
The music started again.
Bai Yan’er stood at the front of the formation, facing the mirror. Her arms slowly rose as she led everyone into another round of rehearsal. Her movements were flawless: fluid, graceful, every detail perfect.
All the dance club members’ eyes were fixed on her. She was the brightest star in the rehearsal hall. But no one knew that inside that star’s heart, another person resided.
Yan Yu.
Bai Yan’er silently recited those two characters in her heart, like chanting a spell, like grasping a rope in deep water. Ever since she found out Yan Yu had plans for the weekend, she hadn’t been able to control her emotions. But she could only wait—wait for Ruo Xiaozhen to give her news.
During a break, she walked over to the window, turning her back to the others. She pulled out her phone and quietly clicked into Yan Yu’s Friendship Circle.
The screen refreshed. A new post appeared at the top.
No caption. Just an emoji and a photo. The photo showed a piece of steak lying quietly on a white ceramic plate. The meat’s texture was clear, the grill marks even. A layer of dark brown sauce was drizzled over it, garnished with a few basil leaves and half a cherry tomato. Next to the plate sat a glass of red wine, with fine droplets of condensation clinging to its surface. The background was a blur of figures.
Bai Yan’er stared at the photo, her pupils contracting slightly. She zoomed in, carefully examining every detail.
The tabletop was white marble. A slender crystal vase stood on the table. In the blurred background, she could make out dark leather booths and waitstaff in black vests… This wasn’t an ordinary restaurant.
Though Bai Yan’er wasn’t an expert in the food and beverage industry, her eyes were sharp enough. That kind of marble, that kind of flower arrangement, that kind of waiter’s attire—they were all hallmarks of a high-end restaurant. She could even vaguely estimate the price: dinner for two, no less than four digits.
Who had Yan Yu gone with?
Ruo Xiaozhen’s message arrived right on time. The chat screen lit up.
[Ruo Xiaozhen: Bai, my sister got back at 10:30 PM! [Spinning around]]
[Bai’er: How was it?]
[Ruo Xiaozhen: She was in pretty good spirits! Seemed in a decent mood too! But when I asked who she went out with, she wouldn’t say…]
Bai Yan’er stared at the words “in a decent mood.” That string in her heart was plucked again.
In a decent mood. Going out with that person made her in a decent mood.
Her fingertip paused on the screen for a moment, then she casually typed a reply.
[Bai’er: Good. As long as she’s back safe. Thanks for telling me.]
[Ruo Xiaozhen: No need to thank me! Bai, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Yan Yu! [Fist] [Struggle]]
[Bai’er: Mm, I believe you.]
The message was sent. Bai Yan’er walked out of the rehearsal hall, heading down the corridor toward the lower floors. That uncomfortable feeling in her heart still hadn’t dissipated.
In the night, she coldly dialed a number.
“Hello, it’s me… Yeah… About that matter we discussed last time—the project Su Qinghan is in charge of. You can start making moves now.”
“…Risk? Ha. Do I look like someone who backs down just because of a little risk?”
“I’ve got this under control. You just do as I say.”
—
At the other end of the city, in Yan Yu’s rented room.
Yan Yu sat in front of the dressing table, facing the mirror, carefully removing her makeup.
First, she soaked two cotton pads with makeup remover. She placed one over her left eye and one over her right eye, waiting quietly for a few dozen seconds to let the cosmetics dissolve fully. Then, gently, she wiped from top to bottom. Mascara and eyeliner transferred bit by bit onto the white cotton pads, leaving trails of black marks.
Next was the base makeup. She massaged cleansing cream onto her face in circular motions, slow and light. The creamy white gradually turned into a shade close to her skin tone—the emulsification of foundation and facial oils. She pulled out a few tissues to wipe it off, then washed her face thoroughly with facial cleanser.
After washing, she gently pressed a towel against her face to absorb the water droplets, careful not to rub and irritate her skin.
She lifted her head and looked into the mirror. The face in the mirror was clean, without any makeup. Yet it was still so beautiful that it was hard to look away. Makeup was just icing on the cake, but even without it, her natural delicate beauty couldn’t be hidden.
Moreover, she suddenly noticed a detail—her complexion was much better than before. The first physical recovery reward the system had given her was continuously taking effect.
She could now stand for much longer. She still couldn’t walk long distances, but at least with the support of the wall, she could make it from the bedroom to the bathroom and back without getting as out of breath as before.
She smiled slightly at the mirror. The girl in the mirror smiled back at her.
Just as she was about to lie down and rest, savoring today’s aquarium date with Su Qinghan, a crisp notification sound echoed in her mind.
[Ding.]
[Key plot node ‘Aquarium Date’ completed.]
[Plot fidelity score overall assessment: 100 points.]
[Assessment details: During the aquarium date, the host demonstrated perfect emotional control and pacing. From the gentle greeting upon meeting, to proactively guiding the conversation during the visit, to the heartfelt confession while gifting the keychain—highly aligned with character setting.]
[Current mainline total progress: 38%.]
[Reward distribution: Emotion Recognition.]
[Usage condition: Physical contact with the target.]
[Usage effect: After equipping this skill, you will be able to discern the true emotions beneath others’ deliberate disguises.]
[Note: Whether it’s a facade, a lie, or words spoken insincerely, you will see the most genuine emotional undertones beneath that disguise. Effectively utilizing this information will allow you to always hold the upper hand in dealings with others.]