Yan Yu leaned against the headboard, looking at the photo she had just taken.
The girl in the photo had skin that was a cold white, untouched by sunlight for a long time, glowing with a porcelain-like sheen under the bedside lamp.
Her eyelashes were lowered, concealing the emotions in her eyes, leaving only two quiet arcs.
The entire photo exuded a kind of cool, detached beauty.
She was fairly satisfied.
She tapped open her Friend Circle, first intending to “blend into” this world’s information flow.
As expected, the first thing flooding the screen was Jiang Muyun’s updates.
This “White Moonlight’s” Friend Circle was practically like a personal exhibition hall.
Nine-square-grid, meticulously edited photos were the standard, each one perfectly lit, with tricky angles.
The backgrounds were either artsy cafes, high-end galleries, or her own balcony filled with flowers and art pieces.
The person in the photos was always impeccably made up, with a smile at just the right angle—either lost in thought with chin in hand, elegantly sipping tea, or focusing intently on a painting at her easel (of course, both the easel and she herself had to be in the shot).
The accompanying captions were even more carefully crafted:
“Afternoon sunlight and a latte are the perfect match~ Stealing a moment of leisure in this fleeting life.” (Picture: coffee cup, book, side profile with light and shadow)
“It feels so good to pick up the paintbrush again. Art is lonely, but the act of creation itself is so warm~” (Picture: a corner of the painting studio, a slender, delicate hand stained with paint)
“First time visiting an exhibition with Qinghan since returning to the country, met so many interesting souls and works~ Grateful for the encounters~” (Picture: a blurry back view with Su Qinghan, emphasizing the “tacit understanding” of them walking side by side)
“Mom says girls should love themselves well. So, today is another day of striving to be better! Go for it!” (Picture: a mirror selfie, head-to-toe designer labels, sweet smile)
Yan Yu expressionlessly scrolled past quickly.
The acting was exaggerated, the effort too obvious, but it did fit Jiang Muyun’s consistent self-positioning of being “elegant, cultured, kind, and hardworking.”
It just got a bit nauseating after seeing too much.
The next update was Su Qinghan’s.
Su Qinghan’s Friend Circle was extremely sparse, almost barren.
The most recent one was from a week ago.
No picture, just one line of text: “Rereading.”
Below it was an attached photo.
The composition of the photo was extremely simple, even somewhat casual: a hardcover, finely bound book lay open on a dark wooden table, next to a half-drunk cup of black coffee.
A hand with long, slender fingers rested casually on the edge of the page.
On the wrist was a bracelet strung with seashells of varying sizes, with a warm, smooth luster.
Yan Yu’s gaze lingered on that shell bracelet for a moment.
She remembered, in the original book’s setting, this plain-looking shell bracelet held extraordinary significance for Su Qinghan.
It was left by the girl who had saved and comforted her when she fell into the water as a child, frightened and helpless.
That girl was also one of the few warm imprints in Su Qinghan’s cold inner world, the most important token she recognized.
It was because Jiang Muyun claimed to possess the other half of this bracelet that she solidified her identity as the “life-saving benefactor,” making Su Qinghan dote on her endlessly.
Yan Yu looked away, sneering inwardly.
An important token?
Just a plot-propelling device.
Scrolling further down was Ruo Xiaozhen’s daily life.
The style changed abruptly:
A close-up of steaming, spicy hot pot, with the caption “Auntie’s hand wasn’t shaking today! Gave me tons of meat!”;
A messy drawing table and pulled-out hair, with the caption “Three-dimensional Composition is killing me!! Mrs. Chen, do you have a grudge against me?”;
A gorgeous sunset outside the window, with the caption “Saw this after class! Sharing with Xiao Yu and everyone~”.
Ruo Xiaozhen’s life was full of the warmth of everyday living, relaxing to look at.
Then, she saw Bai Yan’er’s Friend Circle.
To Yan Yu’s slight surprise, Bai Yan’er’s Friend Circle wasn’t updated frequently, and the content was extremely monotonous.
No selfies, no showing off her life, no emotional outpourings.
The recent few posts all featured a snow-white, blue-eyed Ragdoll cat that looked quite proud and aloof.
The cat rolling on a sunlit carpet, exposing its soft belly.
The cat curiously batting a ball of yarn with its paw.
The cat sitting with its paws tucked, looking seriously at the camera as if scrutinizing.
Yan Yu looked at the blue-eyed Ragdoll cat in the photos and inexplicably felt it looked familiar.
It seemed… she had seen it somewhere before?
But the memory was very fuzzy, she couldn’t recall.
She shook her head and exited the browsing.
Finally, she opened her own Friend Circle homepage.
It was time to see what “Yan Yu” was originally like online.
And then—
“Pfft—!”
The hot water she had just sipped nearly sprayed all over her phone screen.
Yan Yu coughed violently, choking until tears nearly came out.
What in the world… what is all this?!
She knew the Original Host was infatuated with Su Qinghan, and she knew the “Yan Yu” character was as lowly as dust in matters of love.
But she never expected that this lowliness could be so concretely manifested in the Friend Circle as such a devastating, era-defining scene of “Non-mainstream Pain Literature”!
The entire screen was filled with shared links, all heart-wrenchingly bitter online songs: Tear Sea, Monodrama, The Last Tenderness…
Just reading the song titles made her lungs ache.
The original captions were even more intense, each line brimming with self-important profundity:
“Is it because I’m not good enough, that you want to run away?” (3:15 AM)
“The shadow is the prisoner of light, I am the abandoned pawn in your memories.” (Picture: the gray sky outside the window)
“If the heart has no place to rest, everywhere is wandering. And my resting place, long ago lost my spot.” (Shared song link)
“Perhaps, I’m just a sneeze in your life, forgotten after it’s over. But I used my entire youth to remember the shape of your longing.”
“Does the simp really end up with nothing in the end?” (Picture: a dim streetlight, and a blurry line that looked like a tear stain)
Yan Yu felt her eyelids twitching, her toes curling with such intensity she could almost mentally dig out a Magic Crystal Castle on the spot.
Embarrassing, so embarrassing!
Even for the sake of playing the “tragic Substitute,” this level of public execution-style deep affection performance was way too ahead of its time!
This wasn’t just lowliness; this was self-destructive socializing, sister!
Without the slightest hesitation, she immediately pressed and held, deleted, all in one go.
She swiftly cleared out all the cringe-inducing black history from her homepage.
Looking at the finally blank homepage, she let out a long sigh of relief.
Then, she picked up her phone again, faced the mirror, adjusted the angle and her expression, and pressed the shutter.
The girl in the photo was still pale, but due to the loaded S-level Appearance and the tendency of the “Quiet and Obedient” temperament, she presented a completely different kind of beauty.
The slightly open collar and disheveled hair unintentionally emphasized the slenderness of her collarbones and the graceful lines of her neck and shoulders, but it wasn’t abrupt.
Instead, it had a kind of innocent, unknowing allure.
She looked down at the photo, her fingertip hovering over the caption box for a moment before typing a line:
“Lately, my skin feels a bit dry. (moon)”
The tone was plain, with a small, harmless little worry, fitting for a sickly young girl occasionally paying attention to a small detail about herself.
No complaining, no seeking attention, but the photo itself was enough to convey certain silent messages.
Click, send.
Alright, the new persona of the tragic supporting character was initially shaped.
Next, it was time to wait for the audience’s reaction.
Almost the second after it was sent successfully, her phone began to buzz and vibrate.
The red hearts for likes rapidly increased.
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