“Sister?”
Su Qinghan was taken aback for a moment.
Her gaze swept between Yan Yu and Bai Yan’er, as if she had just remembered the connection between the two.
But that connection was clearly not enough to make her change her attitude.
“Even if Yan Yu is your sister, the conclusion is the same,” Su Qinghan stood up, resuming her usual condescending posture.
“The matters between me, Muyun, and her are private affairs, as well as coordination for this volunteer work.
Miss Bai, you have no standing to interfere.
Please don’t meddle in other people’s business.”
“I…”
“Yan’er.”
Bai Yan’er wanted to say more, but a cold hand gently grasped her wrist.
Yan Yu, who had raised her hand at some point, her fingertips trembling, exerted a force that carried an undeniable sense of deterrence.
Bai Yan’er turned her head and met Yan Yu’s eyes.
Those eyes, always calm and distant, occasionally tinged with a sickly pallor, were now clouded with a shattered, watery light.
Yan Yu’s eye sockets and the tip of her nose were flushed with a fragile red.
She wasn’t looking at Bai Yan’er; her gaze went over her shoulder, fixed intently, unwaveringly, on Su Qinghan’s face.
That look held too many things—disappointment, pain, shock, disbelief, and the humiliation of being deeply wounded.
“Don’t say anymore…”
Yan Yu’s voice was very low, thick with a nasal tone.
Her fingers tightened slightly around Bai Yan’er’s wrist, as if drawing a bit of support.
Bai Yan’er’s heart felt as if it had been viciously twisted.
In that instant, all the words she had to refute Su Qinghan died in her throat, leaving only overwhelming heartache.
Looking at Su Qinghan, Yan Yu’s tears, large and heavy, rolled from her eyes, tracing paths down her pale cheeks.
She didn’t raise a hand to wipe them away—to make the performance a bit more realistic, Yan Yu let the tears flow freely, her voice trembling as she questioned Su Qinghan:
“Qinghan… we loved each other once, after all.
Even if it was all fake, do you… have to treat me like this?”
She pressed one hand to her chest, her voice utterly broken, each word seeming soaked in bitterness.
“These three years… wasn’t I good to you?
I… I liked you so much…
I listened to everything you said, tried to act like her…
When I was sick, when I was in pain, I never dared tell you, afraid you’d find me troublesome…”
“Yes, I’m poor, I need money for treatment…
but… but what did you ever give me, besides those clothes that were ‘like hers,’ besides the occasional painkillers you tossed my way, besides the apartment rented until the end of the month?”
“Now… now you’re holding this card…
do you want to buy off these three ridiculous years of mine, or buy my silence, so I’ll keep acting like a fool, grateful to you and her?”
She was crying so hard her whole body shook, her chest heaving violently, almost unable to catch her breath.
The pent-up emotions, a mix of the original host’s deep-seated pain and her own icy anger, burst forth like a breached dam, sweeping away all rational barriers in that moment.
“Su Qinghan… you understand nothing…
you understand absolutely nothing…”
She finally couldn’t go on, abruptly turning her head away, burying her face in the crook of her arm, her thin shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
Stifled, broken sobs escaped from her arms, echoing in the painting studio, where you could hear a pin drop.
The crying wasn’t loud, but it carried a devastating force, making all the onlookers around them look uncomfortable, averting their gazes one by one.
Bai Yan’er felt her heart was about to shatter from the pain.
She immediately turned around, half-kneeling, opening her arms to loosely encircle Yan Yu’s trembling shoulders, wanting to give her some support but not daring to hold on too tightly.
She raised her head, and the look she directed at Su Qinghan was no longer the usual polite distance, but filled with cold anger and contempt.
“Senior Su,” Bai Yan’er said coldly, “all you talk about is money.
Have you been the lofty young lady of the Su Family for so long that you think everyone should grovel at your feet, measuring everything, including other people’s feelings and dignity, with the money you deign to throw at them?”
Su Qinghan paled at her words.
Her lips moved, wanting to retort, but the phrase “that’s not what I meant” stuck in her throat, unable to form a single word.
She just… just wanted to solve the problem in the most direct and effective way.
Yan Yu needed money; she gave money.
Jiang Muyun was delicate; she asked Yan Yu to be more accommodating.
What was wrong with that?
Why had things turned out like this?
“My sister said she won’t do it, so she won’t do it,” Bai Yan’er stated word by word, resolute and firm, her gaze sweeping over the glaringly conspicuous card in Su Qinghan’s hand.
“Keep your card.
Don’t insult people with money anymore.”
“You…”
Su Qinghan’s knuckles turned white where she gripped the bank card, a stifling feeling clogging her chest.
She was used to controlling situations, used to solving problems with resources and rules.
She had never faced such blunt, sharp criticism aimed directly at her character and conduct, especially under the watchful eyes of so many people.
For a moment, she was at a loss for words, unsure how to respond.
Jiang Muyun watched from the side, frantic with anxiety.
She hadn’t expected things to escalate to this point, nor had she expected Yan Yu to have an emotional breakdown or Bai Yan’er to be so unyielding.
Seeing that Su Qinghan seemed cornered, she quickly stepped forward, grabbing Su Qinghan’s arm, her voice pleading.
“Qinghan, forget it, forget it…
It’s all my fault, I was careless…
Don’t argue with them anymore.
The painting… we can think of another way for the painting, okay?”
She was genuinely panicking now.
Letting this escalate would do no good for the carefully maintained image she had cultivated.
Su Qinghan looked at Jiang Muyun’s red-rimmed eyes, then at Bai Yan’er, who still stood by Yan Yu’s side with a cold, hostile gaze, and at the whispering crowd around them.
A deep sense of irritation welled up inside her.
She closed her eyes.
“…Fine.”
She finally spoke, her voice somewhat hoarse.
She put the bank card back into her bag, as if it were something scalding.
Then, she turned to Huang Lu, the president, who had been silently observing from the sidelines.
“President Huang, the poster cannot be delayed.
Since Miss Yan Yu has limited time and is emotionally unstable, it’s indeed inconvenient for her to continue the remaining work.”
She paused, her gaze sweeping over Jiang Muyun.
“Muyun will also have difficulty completing it alone.
Here’s what I propose: I know two talented juniors from the Painting Club who happen to be free today.
I’ll ask them to come help and assist Muyun in finishing the remaining parts.”
“Any additional expenses or compensation incurred because of this will be borne by me personally.
We’ll ensure the poster is completed on time and with quality tomorrow.
What do you think?”
This was almost the quickest way to quell the incident.
Huang Lu looked at Yan Yu leaning against Bai Yan’er, then at Su Qinghan’s grim expression and Jiang Muyun’s tearful face, and finally nodded.
“Agreed.
We’ll proceed as Senior Su suggested.
Miss Yan Yu, you should go back and rest first.
Thank you for your hard work today.”
And so, the matter was hastily concluded in a manner that almost gave each side a slap on the wrist, while forcibly patching things up with external resources.
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