Chapter 77: Qinghan felt that she probably wouldn’t regret it!

Ever since that incident, Yan Yu had seemed to vanish from her world.

No messages, no calls, no sign of her existence at all.

Su Qinghan would sometimes tap into Yan Yu’s Friendship Circle and scroll through it.

That familiar avatar lay quietly in her contact list.

She looked through Yan Yu’s life updates without leaving any trace.

No likes, no comments.

She couldn’t like them.

She was Su Qinghan, standing beside the dazzling Jiang Muyun.

Why should she leave footprints in a “past tense” life?

That would be too degrading and too dangerous.

She had no need to leave any mark on Yan Yu’s life.

But what she refused to admit was…

Just now, the moment she opened her message list and saw the name “Yan Yu” appear on the screen, her heartbeat had quickened—just a little.

The message content was simple.

First, a sticker: a fluffy little cat peeking out from behind a cardboard box, its round eyes staring into the camera, with the caption “Peeking.jpg.”

Then a line of text:

“Qinghan, did something happen today?”

Another line followed immediately:

“Sorry… I don’t want to affect your relationship.

I’m just worried about you.”

Su Qinghan stared at those two lines.

She felt something subtle shifting inside her head.

She instinctively lifted her head and glanced around to confirm no one was watching her.

The feeling was strange, delicate, impossible to articulate.

Inside the black luxury sedan, only the driver sat quietly in the front seat, eyes fixed straight ahead, oblivious to everything happening in the back.

No one was looking at her.

Only then did she lower her head and read Yan Yu’s messages again.

“I’m just worried about you.”

Worried.

Those two words landed in her heart heavier than any sweet talk.

She took a deep breath and typed her reply on the screen:

“It’s nothing.

It’s just that Muyun and I seem to have some conflict.”

The message was sent.

Within three seconds, a reply came back.

“Conflict?

What kind of conflict?”

Su Qinghan hesitated, then typed out:

“I don’t know how to explain it.

Maybe it has something to do with that art exhibition.”

She wasn’t entirely sure if Jiang Muyun’s outburst was related to the art exhibition.

But she vaguely felt that Li Duo must have already tipped off Jiang Muyun.

Given Jiang Muyun’s personality, knowing the list was about to be changed back, there was no way she wouldn’t react.

The public cold-shoulder today was probably a show of force over this matter—or perhaps a punishment for her “betrayal.”

Thinking about it, Su Qinghan’s heart turned bitter again.

The other side was silent for a while.

The “typing…” indicator appeared and disappeared, appeared and disappeared, over and over again.

Su Qinghan stared at the screen, sensing that Yan Yu was hesitating, weighing her words, trying to figure out what to say without making her uncomfortable.

Then Yan Yu didn’t send text.

A voice message came through.

Not long—just over ten seconds.

Su Qinghan glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention, before pulling out her earphones from her pocket.

She plugged them in, took a deep breath, and tapped to play.

Yan Yu’s soft voice came through the earphones, like a warm tide surging into her ears and flooding her heart.

“Thank you, Qinghan.

Thank you for being willing to do this for me.

I’m really moved.”

There was a pause in the earphones.

Then the voice continued, speaking at a slow, steady pace.

Each word felt like a piece of jade carefully polished, round and gentle.

“But I’m just Muyun’s substitute.

I’m sorry that you got into conflict with her because of me.”

“Qinghan, make up with Muyun soon.

I only need to guard your happiness from afar like this.

That’s enough for me.”

The voice message ended.

The earphones fell silent.

But Su Qinghan’s heart did not quiet down.

She held her phone, her fingers tightening slightly, the knuckles turning white.

The earphones were still in her ears, and the message had already finished playing, but those words—“I only need to guard your happiness from afar like this.

That’s enough for me”—seemed to be stuck on repeat, echoing in her mind over and over.

Gentle.

So incredibly gentle.

When Yan Yu spoke, her voice had that natural, effortless softness.

Not deliberate, not fake—it was a natural gentleness that came from the very core of her being.

Even after being treated like that by Jiang Muyun, even after having her art exhibition spot taken away, even after all her efforts were erased, even though she was the one who had been wronged—

She did not vent even a shred of resentment or anger onto Su Qinghan.

She even turned around and urged Su Qinghan to make up with Jiang Muyun.

How could she be so gentle?

How could she have such a good temper?

How could she swallow all her grievances and only leave the softest side for Su Qinghan?

And in contrast, Jiang Muyun—

Su Qinghan closed her eyes.

The image of Jiang Muyun shaking off her hand and walking away in front of everyone flashed in her mind.

The contrast was so stark and cruel.

On one side, Jiang Muyun’s ruthless hand that she had shaken off in public, the sharp words she spat out with red-rimmed eyes, the humiliation of being put on display before everyone.

On the other side, Yan Yu swallowed all her grievances, hid all her resentment, lowered herself to the dust, yet still offered a pure heart that was entirely for her.

Why?

Why could the one who recklessly spent her tolerance be so justified, while the one who silently bore everything had to be so humble?

Take Jiang Muyun, for example.

Even if Su Qinghan had really done something to make her angry, couldn’t she have talked it out nicely?

Couldn’t she have said it in private?

Did she have to humiliate her in front of so many people?

Su Qinghan had her pride too.

She didn’t like being made a spectacle.

Thinking this, Su Qinghan lowered her eyes and stared at Yan Yu’s chat window on her phone screen.

Her heartbeat had gone from “just a little faster” to “racing out of control.”

In the past, when she was with Jiang Muyun, she would also feel happy.

When Jiang Muyun smiled at her, it made her whole day better.

But that kind of happiness was completely different from what she was feeling now.

What she felt now was like something burning inside her—hot, fierce, spreading from her chest to every limb, making her head spin.

She wanted to hide it.

But the faint flush on her face was impossible to conceal.

She suddenly wanted to listen to that voice message again.

To see that little cat again.

To talk with Yan Yu again.

Just talk, nothing else.

Su Qinghan realized she had changed.

Before, she thought being with Jiang Muyun made her happy.

But now—she wanted to be with Yan Yu more.

She wanted to hear Yan Yu speak more.

She took a deep breath, suppressing those improper surges of emotion, and slowly typed a few lines on the screen.

“I understand.

I’ll have a proper talk with Muyun.”

“Get some rest.

Don’t overwork yourself.”

“Feel free to contact me anytime.”

After sending, she stared at the screen for a few seconds, then closed the chat interface and flipped her phone face down on the seat.

She lifted her head and looked out the window.

The sunset had already sunk behind the buildings.

The clouds at the horizon were dyed a deep crimson, as if someone had knocked over an entire bottle of paint.

The silhouette of the campus turned into a dark cutout against the sky’s glow.

“Miss, shall we go now?” the driver glanced at her from the rearview mirror and asked cautiously.

“Mm, let’s go.”

A slight tremor ran through the car body as the engine let out a low hum, marking the end of their brief stillness.

Su Qinghan could feel the subtle jolts as the wheels passed over speed bumps.

Then, the familiar black sedan slipped away from the curb, merging into the massive, slow-moving stream of cars on Friday evening, as silently as a raindrop falling into a river.

Outside the window, the last glow of the sunset was fading inch by inch, gilding the city’s outline in a hazy warm gold.

One by one, the red taillights ahead flickered on, forming a winding, glowing red ribbon that blinked dimly in the thickening dusk.

Su Qinghan leaned back against the soft seat, feeling herself carried along by this invisible force.

The car was silent, except for the faint hiss of the air conditioning sending out cool air, and the scraping sound of tires rolling over rough pavement.

Her phone lay quietly by her side, screen down, revealing nothing.

But her mind was filled with that person’s voice.

“Guarding your happiness from afar.”

“That’s enough for me.”

Yan Yu, why did you have to say that to me?