The afternoon sunlight slanted through the huge glass windows, casting bright patches on the wooden desks of the lecture hall.
Tiny dust particles floated in the air, mixed with the smell of chalk dust.
Yan Yu hadn’t arrived particularly early.
When she pushed her wheelchair into the classroom, several rows at the front were already occupied.
Someone looked up, their gaze lingering on her for a moment before quickly shifting away.
In this highly inclusive institution, students attending class in wheelchairs, while not common, were hardly a rare sight.
She glanced around, searching for a spot toward the back where it would be easier to maneuver.
Just then, her attention was caught by a figure in the front row of the classroom.
It was a girl, sitting alone by the window.
The sunlight happened to fall on her, coating her in a soft golden fringe.
The girl wore a light blue blouse, her long hair loosely tied back, with a few strands falling by her cheeks.
She tilted her head slightly, looking out the window, the profile of her face as elegant as a classical sculpture, with long eyelashes.
It was Bai Yan’er.
‘Yan’er,’ Yan Yu silently uttered the name in her heart.
Bai Yan’er was truly exceptionally striking.
Just sitting there quietly, she seemed out of place among the noisy, vibrant students around her.
Several male and female students had already tried to strike up a conversation, either asking if the empty seat next to her was taken or directly offering their contact information.
But Bai Yan’er simply shook her head faintly, her gaze barely withdrawn from the window, her lips pressed into a polite yet distant curve, silently rejecting all approaches.
Until her eyes inadvertently swept over the doorway and caught sight of Yan Yu.
Almost instantly, those eyes, usually veiled with a thin mist of indifference, suddenly brightened.
She even unconsciously sat up a little straighter, waving in Yan Yu’s direction.
The few students still attempting to chat froze, following her gaze to the doorway and seeing Yan Yu in the wheelchair, their faces a mix of surprise.
Yan Yu smiled at her, pushing her wheelchair along the designated accessible ramp, slowly heading that way.
“Sister, here.”
Bai Yan’er’s voice was very soft.
She pointed to the spot she had deliberately kept open by her side.
“Sit here.”
“Thank you.”
Yan Yu stopped her wheelchair, locked it, and carefully placed the few thick art theory books and notebooks she carried onto the desk.
The edges of the books were a bit worn, showing they were frequently consulted.
Bai Yan’er naturally moved her canvas bag from the empty adjacent chair to make more space for Yan Yu.
While Yan Yu was putting away her books and adjusting her posture, she imperceptibly shifted her body closer to Yan Yu.
So close that Yan Yu could even smell the gardenia fragrance on her, mixed with a hint of oil paint.
“Sister,” Bai Yan’er turned her head, leaning close to Yan Yu’s ear, speaking in a breathy voice only the two could hear.
“I heard the professor for this class is really strict, you need to listen carefully.”
Then, she lowered her voice and quickly added, with a hint of triumph and intimacy.
“Of course, if there’s anything you don’t understand, you can secretly ask me.”
Yan Yu was amused by her adorable antics.
“I know, I know,” she nodded, pulling out the textbook for this class, Western Modern Art Theory and Criticism, and opening it to where they had left off last time.
“I’ll listen well, and not waste our little Yan’er’s ‘inside scoop.'”
Bai Yan’er pursed her lips and smiled, her eyes curving into beautiful crescents.
She didn’t say anything more, also taking out her own book and notes, but her body remained slightly inclined toward Yan Yu.
This class was Special Topics in Modern and Postmodern Art Theory, taught by Professor Xie Ke, a notoriously strict teacher in the department with high academic standards, a fast lecture pace, and often tricky assignments.
In today’s class, he was going to delve into a relatively niche art movement from the mid-twentieth century.
The Situationist International and its core theories of Dérive and Détournement.
“In the last class, I assigned you to gather preliminary information on the Situationist theory of détournement and attempt to use this theoretical framework to briefly analyze a contemporary cultural phenomenon you’re familiar with. No medium restrictions—ads, movie clips, pop songs, even internet memes are fine.”
He paused, opening the gradebook software.
“Now, I’ll randomly pick a few student IDs to see your preliminary understanding and thoughts. The chosen student, please briefly state your analysis target and approach.”
As soon as he finished, a low murmur of groans and whispers erupted from below.
Yan Yu heard a classmate behind her quietly complaining.
“This assignment is way too hard… There’s so little information online, and crawling over the wall to find the original text is impossible to understand…”
“Exactly, and we have to analyze contemporary phenomena, how do we combine that?”
“Old Man Xie really makes life impossible…”
Yan Yu furrowed her brow slightly, opening her notebook to take notes.
She had looked up some information before and had a vague concept of the theory of “détournement,” which refers to the appropriation, alteration, and recombination of existing mainstream cultural products to expose the ideological manipulation behind them or to create new, subversive meanings.
But the theory itself was rather obscure.
How to use it to analyze specific contemporary cultural phenomena was indeed a challenge.
As she was deep in thought, she suddenly felt a warmth on the back of her hand.
Looking down, she saw Bai Yan’er’s hand gently resting on it.
Her younger sister’s hand was beautiful, with slender fingers, well-defined knuckles, and neatly trimmed nails.
At that moment, that hand, with a hint of tentative coolness, covered Yan Yu’s hand.
Yan Yu turned her head, asking with her eyes.
“The air conditioning is a bit cold, Sister,” Bai Yan’er pouted slightly, putting on an aggrieved expression.
“My hands are a little cold… Can I use your hands to warm up?”
Yan Yu found both amusing and helpless.
The air conditioning in the classroom was indeed set a bit low, but definitely not to the point of freezing her hands.
She knew Bai Yan’er had a cold constitution, but this girl was definitely up to some little scheme.
However, as an older sister, facing those watery eyes, she really couldn’t bring herself to refuse.
“Just for a moment.”
Yan Yu smiled indulgently, not withdrawing her hand.
“Sister is the best!”
Bai Yan’er immediately smiled, pushing her luck as she slipped her fingers between Yan Yu’s and gently held them.
Then, seemingly not satisfied with that, she began to trace the bone contours of Yan Yu’s hand with her fingertip, stroking the delicate skin of Yan Yu’s thumb web, and then kneading the knuckles of those fingers.
Her movements were very light.
But Yan Yu felt a subtle tingling spreading from the back of her hand, traveling along her nerves all the way to the tip of her heart.
Bai Yan’er lowered her head, focusing on their intertwined hands.
Yan Yu’s hand was about the same size as hers, the skin very fair and clean.
Looking at that hand, Bai Yan’er couldn’t help but let her imagination run wild.
‘Sister’s hands are so slender and white… they feel so soft and comfortable to touch…’
‘If only these hands could gently caress me… how happy that would be…’
She couldn’t help but silently sigh in her heart, her movements becoming even more careful, even tinged with a bit of attachment and enjoyment.