Yan Yu knew that Bai Yan’er’s feelings for her went beyond the normal range, and she also knew that if left unchecked, those feelings would eventually evolve into an even more obsessive state.
But in order to “prevent the blackening plot,” she couldn’t intervene too much.
Rejecting Bai Yan’er might trigger the blackening.
Keeping distance from Bai Yan’er might also trigger the blackening.
There was nothing she could do.
Yan Yu couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.
‘If only the System had some tool to monitor Bai Yan’er’s every move.’
‘Even just a simple prompt—”Bai Yan’er’s current affection points: XX, blackening risk: XX%”—that would at least give me a reference point, so I’d know which direction to push.’
‘But there was nothing.’
‘She had to rely on herself.’
After lunch, Yan Yu returned to her room.
Ruo Xiaozhen helped her open the door, poured her a glass of warm water and placed it on the nightstand, then went to the kitchen to wash the dishes.
Yan Yu changed into a clean set of loungewear, lay down on the bed, pulled the covers up, and closed her eyes.
Her body was exhausted.
She had two classes in a row that morning, and then made a trip to the cafeteria at noon—it was already a heavy burden for her frail physique.
She quickly fell asleep, her breathing becoming steady and long.
The sunlight outside streamed through the gap in the curtains onto the bedsheets, and golden patches of light swayed gently with the breeze.
When she woke up in the afternoon, it was already past two o’clock.
Yan Yu rubbed her eyes, sat up in bed, and leaned against the pillow.
Then she remembered something.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand, swiped the screen, and checked her class schedule and daily agenda.
No classes in the afternoon.
That was good news.
But the other not-so-good news was that midterm exams were approaching, so she needed to start reviewing.
This was a special rule in her academy; she’d heard that the other academies didn’t have this requirement.
Yan Yu opened the school’s academic affairs system and pulled up this semester’s course schedule.
She was an art major.
This semester’s courses weren’t too many, but each one had a certain level of difficulty.
The main courses were: History of Chinese and Foreign Art, Introduction to Art, Color Composition, Basic Drawing, and an elective course on Appreciation of Chinese Painting Techniques.
Among them, History of Chinese and Foreign Art and Introduction to Art were theory courses that required a lot of memorization and understanding.
The exams were basically closed-book, relying on daily accumulation and last-minute cramming.
Color Composition and Basic Drawing were practical courses.
Comparatively, the pressure was lighter, since she already had S-level painting skills, more than enough to handle these classes.
As for Appreciation of Chinese Painting Techniques, although it sounded very professional, the assessment method was a thesis—as long as the content was satisfactory, there wasn’t much to worry about.
Yan Yu had only barely passed her final exams last semester.
This semester, she wanted to do better.
Not to prove anything, but because in the scholarship evaluation criteria, grades accounted for a significant portion.
She needed the money.
Yan Yu sighed, got out of bed, changed into some going-out clothes, rolled her wheelchair, and left the room.
The school library was in the southeast corner of the campus, a five-story gray-white building with a square appearance.
Yan Yu rolled along the accessible ramp through the main entrance, stopped in the lobby on the first floor, looked around briefly, then took the elevator to the third floor.
She found a seat in a corner, fixed her wheelchair next to the table, pulled out her textbooks and notebook from her bag, and started reviewing.
The library was very quiet.
The fluorescent light overhead cast a soft white glow on Yan Yu’s fingers as they held her pen.
Time passed minute by minute.
An hour later, she began to feel a bit tired.
Her body was too fragile.
Prolonged concentration on studying made her uncomfortable.
Yan Yu put down her pen, rubbed her sore eyes, then slowly stood up holding the edge of the table to stretch her muscles.
She stood by the table for a while, feeling the numbness fade from her legs, then supported herself against the wall and shuffled step by step toward the window.
The window was right in front of her.
Yan Yu reached out and pushed the window open a crack.
The cool wind squeezed through the gap and brushed against her face.
The air outside was much fresher than inside the library, carrying the scent of grass and the faint sweetness of wildflowers in the distance.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling much more refreshed.
Just then, she heard voices coming from nearby.
They weren’t loud, but because they came from the wall right next to the window, separated by a row of bookshelves, every word was crystal clear.
“Hey, did you know? Our academy is holding a student art exhibition in a couple of days.”
“I know, I know. Each class selects one student, right?”
“Right. I just saw the Student Union list—Class 3 picked that… that girl, the one who comes to class in a wheelchair.”
“Yan Yu?”
“Yeah, that’s her!”
“Wow, that’s impressive? Is she really good at painting?”
“Of course. How else would she be selected? Let me tell you, even though her body is weak, her skill is recognized as top-tier. Remember the teacher’s demonstration piece last time? She painted it.”
“Really? No way…”
“Mmm, inside information. Not officially announced yet. But I saw it with my own eyes, black and white on paper.”
“I’m not sure. I only saw Class 3. Anyway, I’ve remembered the name Yan Yu.”
“So… who was selected from the other classes?”
“Tsk, tsk. Amazing.”
The footsteps of the two people gradually faded, and their voices disappeared among the bookshelves.
Yan Yu stood still, her fingers holding the window frame tightening slightly.
An art exhibition?
She was selected?
Why didn’t she know about this herself?
The Municipal Youth Student Art Exhibition was an annual event.
Each class in the academy could only submit one student’s work for selection.
Being chosen this time was indeed a bit unexpected.
But on second thought, this might be a good opportunity.
Having a work selected for the art exhibition would earn her extra credit at school, and it would also help with scholarship evaluations.
Her financial pressure was considerable, so getting more scholarship money would be beneficial.
Yan Yu didn’t stay there any longer.
She slowly walked back to her seat while holding the wall, and sat down again.
In the evening, news exploded in the class group chat.
The academy officially announced the list of selected students for the art exhibition.
Only one person per class.
Class 3’s pick was—Yan Yu.
On the screenshot of the list, the name “Yan Yu” sat quietly there.
The class group instantly became lively.
“Wow, Yan Yu is amazing!”
“Congratulations!”
“So impressive!”
But there were also different voices.
It was Jiang Muyun’s little clique, Juan Mao and Song Jie.
“How strange? Isn’t Muyun’s painting really good?”
Song Jie said.
“She studied abroad for so long. How come she wasn’t chosen?”
Juan Mao said,
“Yeah, I’ve seen Muyun’s paintings. They’re amazing. Is there something wrong with the selection criteria?”
Song Jie said,
“I don’t know. With Muyun’s level not being selected, there must be some kind of shady stuff going on…”
The two of them went back and forth, seemingly speaking up for Jiang Muyun, but every sentence hinted at the same thing:
Why was she chosen and not Jiang Muyun?
Jiang Muyun was an artistic genius returned from overseas!
She’d won so many awards, had such professional training!
Song Jie and Juan Mao chatted heatedly in the group, their words steeped in sour resentment.
Although most of the class members didn’t join their discussion, there were still one or two who subtly expressed agreement.
Strangely—
Jiang Muyun herself hadn’t said a single word.
Not only were there no messages on the screen, but her profile picture lay quietly among the group member list, gray and unlit.
Yan Yu didn’t know if Jiang Muyun was hiding behind the screen, watching the news of her own selection and Yan Yu’s rejection, grinding her teeth in anger.
Or maybe that woman was already planning another move against her.
Given Jiang Muyun’s usual style, this possibility wasn’t small.
But even if that were the case, Yan Yu didn’t care at all.
In fact, she wished Jiang Muyun would do something right now to help her advance the plot.
The set had long been arranged.
All that was missing was the actor to take the stage and complete her script.
She put down her phone, turned off the desk lamp, and closed her eyes quietly in the darkness.
Tomorrow would be a new day.