Su Qinghan actually took the initiative to call her, which made Yan Yu extremely surprised.
‘Is it a test, or did something happen?’
Yan Yu took a deep breath, forcing herself to suppress her racing heart.
No matter which answer it was, this phone call was a golden opportunity she wouldn’t get again.
This was the first time Su Qinghan had voluntarily crossed that line she’d drawn herself.
That meant all her hard work playing the stand-in for so long had finally shown some obvious results.
All her efforts as the gentle ex-girlfriend had finally chipped away at that icy heart of Su Qinghan’s.
‘Good.’
‘This is exactly the effect I wanted.’
‘Su Qinghan, come a little closer.’
‘Once you fall into this net, you’ll never escape.’
That was what Yan Yu thought, but in action she simply raised a hand and pressed the answer button, the motion steady without a single tremor.
The moment the phone touched her ear, she could even hear her own breathing slow down.
“Hello?”
From the earpiece came Su Qinghan’s voice, a little low, carrying an unnatural tone—as if she was deliberately lowering her voice, yet couldn’t hide the trace of emotion she was desperately trying to conceal.
At the other end of the city.
Su Family Villa.
This was a standalone villa halfway up a mountain.
Now, on the second floor in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, Su Qinghan sat on a dark leather sofa, holding a crystal goblet.
The room’s lights were dim, with only a floor lamp beside the sofa casting a warm glow that outlined the profile of her face.
Outside the window, the city nightscape stretched like a river of stars turned upside down on the ground.
She wore a black silk robe, the belt loosely tied at her waist, revealing a sliver of skin below her collarbone.
Her short hair was still damp—she hadn’t dried it after showering, and a few stray strands clung to her forehead and the sides of her ears.
Her fingers slowly traced circles on the goblet.
This was a bottle of Romanée-Conti she’d taken from her father’s wine cellar.
The liquid in the glass was a deep ruby red, refracting a dull luster under the light.
She usually couldn’t bear to drink such wine.
But today she was too unsettled.
Too unsettled to need a little alcohol to numb herself.
Hours had passed since Yan Yu sent that voice message, yet she felt her heart hadn’t calmed down at all.
Instead, it was like someone had thrown it into a blender, churning round and round.
The curtain was half-drawn.
Her phone rested on the coffee table in front of her, the screen lit, displaying the contacts page.
Her thumb hovered over the name “Yan Yu,” and had been hovering for a long time.
Why?
Since when did Su Qinghan need to take the initiative to call someone?
It was always others reaching out to her, never the other way around.
And that person was Yan Yu—Jiang Muyun’s stand-in, her nominal “guardian,” someone she should keep her distance from.
But that voice.
That voice was like a soft thorn, piercing into the softest place in her heart, impossible to pull out, impossible to digest.
‘I’m content just guarding your happiness from afar like this.’
She took a big gulp of wine.
The liquid went down her throat, mellow and complex.
The alcohol spread through her bloodstream, making her mind less clear, but her heart beat faster.
The phone was still on the table.
WeChat’s chat window was still open.
The latest message was from Song Jie—”Muyun seems to be in a bad mood.
Do you want to send her a message?”—she hadn’t replied.
Jiang Muyun gave her the cold shoulder.
Jiang Muyun’s best friend came to test the waters on her behalf.
But Jiang Muyun herself hadn’t sent a single word.
In the past, Jiang Muyun wasn’t like this.
In the past, Jiang Muyun would act spoiled, coax her, say “Qinghan, don’t be mad.”
Now?
She stormed off in the street, no phone calls, no messages.
Thinking of this, the scale in Su Qinghan’s heart unconsciously tilted in the other direction.
‘If it were Yan Yu…’
The thought suddenly popped into her head.
‘If it were Yan Yu, Yan Yu would never treat me like this.’
That person would carefully send a sticker, then say “I’m just worried about you,” and speak in that soft voice.
‘Why?’
‘Why can Yan Yu be like this, but Jiang Muyun can’t?’
Su Qinghan took another sip of wine.
Then, she didn’t know what came over her—maybe the alcohol was at work, maybe her mind had been stirred into a mess—she picked up her phone, clicked into Yan Yu’s chat interface, didn’t type anything, and directly pressed the voice call button.
Beep—
Beep—
Each ring was like a little hammer striking her heart.
‘What is she doing?’
‘Why is she calling Yan Yu late at night?’
‘Shouldn’t she be with Jiang Muyun?
Shouldn’t she take Jiang Muyun’s side?
Isn’t she Su Qinghan?
The one who’s always calm, always rational, always impossible to see through?’
She pinched her thigh hard, wincing from the pain, but her finger absolutely couldn’t press the end button.
She told herself, ‘This is no big deal.’
‘She just… she just felt that Yan Yu wasn’t that annoying.’
‘Maybe they could be friends.’
‘Yes, just friends.
It’s not against the law.
It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Jiang Muyun won’t make a fuss even if she finds out.’
‘And Jiang Muyun isn’t actively reaching out to her now, so why can’t she do what she wants?’
These reasons lined up boldly, singing in chorus in her mind.
But she was too guilty to even look at herself in the mirror.
—Beep
The fourth ring.
Then, the phone suddenly went silent for a moment.
It was the prelude to a connection.
Su Qinghan unconsciously tightened her grip on the wine glass.
“Hello?”
Yan Yu’s voice came through the earpiece.
That soft voice, carrying a hint of breathiness, as if she’d just crawled out of the bath and wasn’t fully awake yet.
Su Qinghan felt her brain explode—bzzzt.
“Qinghan?!”
Another voice came through, tinged with confusion.
Suqinghan took a deep breath, forcing her voice to sound normal.
“Mm, it’s me,” she said.
“So late… Qinghan, do you need something from me?
I just felt a little stuffy tonight and wanted someone to chat with casually.”
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Then she heard a very light sound; the background hum was shut off.
Su Qinghan caught that subtle change in noise and couldn’t help asking, “Yan Yu, what are you doing?”
Another moment of silence on the phone, then Yan Yu’s voice came again, lower than before, carrying a shyness that seemed to want to say something but held back.
“Just taking a shower,” Yan Yu said, her voice very low.
“Now… I’m not dressed yet.”