Unnoticed, the two girls’ palms were already pressed tightly together.
Feeling the warmth of the other’s skin, Bai Yan’er’s face gradually took on an intoxicated, satisfied smile.
On the podium, Professor Xie had started calling out student numbers.
The students called upon stood up, stammering out their understanding.
The classroom was filled with a tense atmosphere.
Yan Yu tried to focus on the class, but the continuous tingling sensation on the back of her hand kept scratching at her nerves.
It itched, and there was also an indescribably strange feeling.
Was holding hands like this a bit odd?
And… why was she rubbing like that?
It kind of made her think of some strange images…
She turned her head again to look at Bai Yan’er.
Her little sister was still looking down, her long eyelashes drooping, covering the emotions in her eyes.
All Yan Yu could see was the slightly upturned corner of her mouth.
As if sensing Yan Yu’s gaze, she looked up, met her eyes, and then blossomed into a sweet smile.
She even tilted her head and mouthed silently, “Sister, focus on the lecture.”
😨 ‘Is this how you tell me to focus on the lecture…’
Even as she thought this, the subtle, strange feeling in Yan Yu’s heart was still somewhat dissipated by this smile.
Somewhat embarrassed, she turned back and refocused her eyes on the blackboard.
‘I’m probably overthinking it, right?’
‘Bai Yan’er’s hands were just cold, and she was just clingy. She’d been like this since they were young, liking to hold my hand and lean against me.’
‘Doing that… probably doesn’t mean anything else.’
Yan Yu said this to herself inside, trying to suppress that trace of discomfort.
She concentrated back on the podium.
Professor Xie had finished the first round of questions and had started formally explaining the historical origins and core ideas of the theory.
He wrote several keywords on the blackboard.
Yan Yu quickly picked up her pen and began jotting notes rapidly in her notebook.
Before long, the second round of questioning began.
…
In the last row of the classroom, near the back door corner.
“Hey, stop sleeping. They’re about to call student numbers to answer questions again.”
Dai Feng used her elbow to nudge A Yue not too gently.
A Yue’s head had been nodding, about to completely slump under the desk.
“Mm… huh?”
A Yue jolted awake, groggily wiping the corner of her mouth where there wasn’t any drool.
Her eyes were unfocused for a few seconds before sharpening.
“What? Calling numbers? Oh my god!”
She snapped awake halfway, frantically rummaging through her bag for her notebook and printed materials.
“Oh no, I played games too late last night and didn’t even read the materials! Old Man Xie, please don’t call on me, please don’t call on me. I swear I’ll give up late-night snacks for a month if I get through this safe…”
Dai Feng watched her look of impending doom, wanting to laugh but suppressing it.
She lowered her voice, “You think just because you say ‘don’t call’ he won’t? Professor Xie’s Random Roll Call System is known as ‘the Academy of Fine Art’s number one fair poison,’ specializing in punishing those who skip class and slack off. Get up and cram now. Want to borrow my notes?”
A Yue grabbed them like they were treasure, mumbling, “Sister Feng, you’re really my goddess! But speaking of which,” she quickly scanned Dai Feng’s clear notes while stealing a suspicious glance at Dai Feng, “I feel like… you’re listening more seriously than I am? Did you really come here because you ‘suddenly became interested in art’? Or have you been possessed by something?”
Dai Feng felt an inexplicable pang of guilt under her gaze but didn’t show it on her face.
She casually picked up her water bottle on the desk, took a sip, and said in a nonchalant tone, “I came, so I might as well listen. Not like I have anything better to do. This old guy might be strict, but he does know his stuff when teaching.”
She tilted her chin toward the podium.
“Hurry up and study. You might be next.”
“Oh, oh, oh!”
A Yue’s attention immediately shifted.
She buried her head in the notes, silently mouthing those difficult terms.
Dai Feng secretly breathed a sigh of relief, but her gaze involuntarily drifted again toward the front-middle row of the classroom, to the seat by the window.
From her angle, she could clearly see Yan Yu’s profile, and… the stunningly beautiful girl sitting tightly next to her.
Who was that girl?
She felt she’d seen her before.
Art Department?
Judging by her temperament and style, she seemed to be studying fine art or design.
She and Yan Yu… seemed very close?
Dai Feng saw that girl lean in to whisper to Yan Yu, saw Yan Yu laugh at something she said, saw that girl lean almost half her body toward Yan Yu, saw her… under the desk, holding Yan Yu’s hand?
And then those two hands started rubbing.
Huh?
Wait, what was happening?
It was a bit far, so Dai Feng wasn’t sure if she’d seen correctly.
But the two were extremely close, their postures intimate—anyone who saw them would think their relationship was deep.
A vaguely uncomfortable feeling quietly crept into her heart.
It was like a small wad of waterlogged cotton had been stuffed into her chest—heavy, damp, stuffy.
She hadn’t known Yan Yu for very long, but in her impression, even when facing Su Qinghan, Yan Yu mostly kept her eyes downcast and rarely revealed a smile that was so relaxed, natural, with a hint of helplessness and indulgence.
But now, she was smiling at that girl.
And they were holding hands.
Dai Feng’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
She looked away, forcing herself to stare at the blackboard, at the dense terminology Professor Xie had written on it.
But in just a few seconds, her gaze, as if having a will of its own, slipped back.
That girl was holding Yan Yu’s hand, seemingly gently rubbing and playing with it.
Yan Yu initially seemed to want to pull away, but in the end, she didn’t, letting the other hold it.
Professor Xie on the podium was talking about something—”Dérive,” “Détournement,” “Society of the Spectacle”…
Those words entered her ears but struggled to enter her somewhat chaotic mind.
She remembered the message she’d inexplicably sent Yan Yu yesterday at the bar.
Yan Yu had replied later, very succinctly: “Okay, I’ve sent you the notes.”
That distant attitude was completely different from the one between her and this girl.
Dai Feng’s fingers unconsciously curled, her fingertips lightly tapping the cold desktop.
‘Why had I come here?’
‘Was it really just a whim of “suddenly being interested in art”? No, it wasn’t.’
Dai Feng was vaguely aware that the excuse she used to brush off A Yue, and even herself, was full of holes.
‘Art?’
‘I might not hate it, but I definitely didn’t suddenly love it.’
‘I came here because I wanted to see Yan Yu.’
‘I told myself it was just curiosity, definitely not because of any other meaning.’
‘But now that I’ve seen it, what is this strange, sour feeling in my heart?’
‘Was it because I saw Yan Yu being so close to someone else?’
‘Was it because that pretty girl had taken the place next to Yan Yu that might originally have belonged to… someone else?’
Dai Feng was startled by the thought that flashed through her mind.
‘Belong to someone else? Who?’
‘Belong to… Su Qinghan?’
‘No, not that.’
‘Then… belong to myself?’
‘That thought is even more absurd. What are she and I, anyway? Not even a solid friendship.’
But the irrepressible frustration in her chest was so real.
“Hey, Sister Feng,” A Yue nudged her with her elbow, lowering her voice, “The roll call’s over! I wasn’t called! Thank heaven! Thank Professor Xie for sparing my life!”
Dai Feng snapped back to reality and realized it was almost time for class to end.
‘What did I say about auditing?’
‘I’d been watching Yan Yu for almost the entire class.’