“Haha, yeah, what a coincidence.”
Dai Feng turned around and casually grabbed a loose black silk shirt from the rack beside her, draping it over her shoulders without fastening a single button.
The front hung open, revealing the smooth lines of her waist and the edge of the black underwear underneath.
She leaned against the mirror with her arms crossed, looking a little lazy and speaking in a casual, straightforward tone.
“The dance floor? Not interested. I hate those pretentious social gatherings—they just get on my nerves. If Qinghan likes them, that’s her business. I can’t stand them.”
As she spoke, she lightly nudged the discarded dress on the floor with the tip of her foot, her tone disdainful.
“It’s way quieter just staying by myself. It’s too noisy over there, gives me a headache. Plus, this dress—”
She tugged at the collar of her shirt.
“It’s too tight and uncomfortable. Much better in pants. So I slipped out for some air and to change.”
Yan Yu listened quietly, her gaze brushing lightly over Dai Feng’s open collar and casually tied-up hair before quickly dropping her eyes.
She nodded, her voice soft.
“That’s true, too.”
She turned her head to look toward the muffled music and voices coming from outside the changing room, and a hint of self-deprecating gloom crept into her tone.
“It’s the same for me… my legs aren’t convenient. Everyone else was paired up dancing, and I was just sitting alone on the sidelines, which was pretty depressing, so I just came in.”
“Hahaha,” Dai Feng suddenly burst out laughing, her voice crisp and honest. “The way you talk is really amusing.”
She took two steps forward, stopping in front of Yan Yu’s wheelchair.
Bending down, she met Yan Yu’s eyes at eye level.
Those usually sharp, clear eyes now carried a rare seriousness.
“Miss Yan, why do you always put yourself down like that? You’re a person, not some background prop. Since you were formally invited, where you want to be and what you want to do is your own freedom. Who cares what others say?”
“Miss Dai, that’s easy for you to say…”
Yan Yu let out a soft sigh, her long lashes fluttering.
She seemed to hesitate for a moment before speaking again, her voice softer and carrying a fragile quality.
“That’s how it sounds, but I know in my heart why Miss Jiang specifically invited me… probably because of those three years I had with Qinghan. It’s always been a thorn in her side.”
Her voice grew lower, filled with bitterness and self-blame.
“It’s all my fault. Back then… I knew full well that Qinghan’s heart was always with Miss Jiang, yet I clung to absurd fantasies. I thought that as long as Miss Jiang didn’t come back, I… this substitute… could play the part a little longer, a little better…”
By the end, whether it was the lingering emotions of the original “Yan Yu” or because she herself was too immersed in the act, her voice truly grew choked.
She turned her head slightly and quickly wiped the corner of her eye with her hand.
That image of her holding back tears, fragile yet forcing herself to be strong, pierced like a fine needle into a soft spot in Dai Feng’s heart that even she hadn’t known existed.
Dai Feng looked at the slightly reddened corners of Yan Yu’s eyes, her lowered, trembling lashes, and her tightly pressed lips.
A fierce surge of protectiveness mixed with pity rushed up inside her.
‘How could she think that way? She was the one who gave her whole heart and was callously thrown away. That Su Qinghan, whose head is 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.
A bit flustered, she hastily suppressed those chaotic thoughts, cleared her throat, and as if to cover it up, stepped half a step closer, almost crouching down in front of Yan Yu’s wheelchair.
She tried to make her voice sound calm and reassuring.
“Miss Yan,” she said, looking at Yan Yu’s moist eyes and lowering her voice, “do you still remember what I said to you outside just now? I said I’m Qinghan’s friend, and you used to be one too. A friend of a friend is still a friend. So the advice I’m giving you is from the heart. I hope you’ll take it to heart.”
Yan Yu lifted her eyes and quietly looked at her.
Those eyes, which had just been misty with tears, now clearly reflected Dai Feng’s image.
“…Thank you, Miss Dai,” she finally spoke softly, her voice still a little hoarse, but she forced the corners of her mouth up into a strained yet gentle smile.
“Thank you for caring so much about my situation. To be honest, coming here today… I’ve been feeling pretty awful inside. Hearing you say this 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 give a heavy thump.
Almost instinctively, she averted her eyes, but then couldn’t help quickly glancing back, her gaze landing on Yan Yu’s face, which still bore tear tracks yet was trying hard to smile.
Yan Yu caught every trace of that subtle wavering and evasion, maintaining her fragile expression on the outside while calmly analyzing inside.
‘Got it.’
She suddenly thought of the perfect person to give that “Yearning Mint Candy” to.
Since she now needed to keep playing the “lovelorn substitute” in front of Su Qinghan, and also had to “just right” take on Jiang Muyun’s provocation to earn “Acting Value,”
then wasn’t this Dai Feng—who seemed capable of influencing Su Qinghan, was clearly easier to approach than Su Qinghan or Jiang Muyun, and even appeared to have developed a special sympathy for her—the ideal ally?
With her mind racing through the calculations, Yan Yu had already adjusted her expression.
She took a light breath, as if gathering courage, raised her hand, and hesitantly let her fingertips brush the sleeve of Dai Feng’s open shirt.