Chapter 2: An Uneasy Friendship

Ultimately, however, things were different.

Since her confession had been rejected, it was time to sever ties cleanly; a mere three thousand strands of worldly worries were not enough to bind her.

Qian Surou was not the type, unlike her counterpart in the original novel, to clutch at a single thread of hope as a lifeline.

Truth be told, receiving such a straightforward answer also brought her immense relief, clearing her mind completely.

The mere thought of the original character’s silent, yearning gaze in the game would invariably ignite a spark of irritation within Qian Surou.

With this newfound clarity, her affections for the female lead dissipated like a wisp of smoke, growing so faint they became imperceptible.

Qian Surou lowered the hand that had been pressing against her cheek, her gaze settling on the female lead, Ji Yushu.

The usually bright and energetic Little Ji now appeared utterly distraught, caught in a dilemma of apprehension and longing.

Was she perhaps worried they wouldn’t even be able to remain friends?

Yet, in Ji Yushu’s perception, Qian Surou at that very moment seemed on the verge of hysteria.

Her expression had shifted from stunned bewilderment to utter collapse, then veered abruptly into bitterness, before settling into a facade of false relief, clearly indicating she had been profoundly shaken.

‘Would it have been better to accept Susu?’

‘But then—’

Ji Yushu’s thoughts raced, and the grip of her hands tightened, as if she were trying to wring a definitive answer from her very being. Her fair skin was pinched crimson.

As Ji Yushu was consumed by her distress, Qian Surou’s eyes regained their sparkle. With a hand stained with ink, she playfully squeezed Ji Yushu’s cheek, leaving a faint red mark on her delicate skin, much like a brush of light-colored lipstick.

Noticing Ji Yushu straighten her posture, Qian Surou found herself smiling at the sight, reminded of a child awaiting a lecture.

“Little Ji, you must have been thinking and agonizing over this for quite some time, haven’t you?”

Qian Surou drew open the curtain that had shrouded her in shadow. Turning her back to the setting sun, she revealed a gentle smile befitting her quiet and considerate demeanor, then tilted her head at a graceful forty-five-degree angle.

Perfect! Though her neck did ache slightly.

“It was inconsiderate of me. I knew your track and field training kept you incredibly busy, yet I still burdened you with my worries…”

Upon seeing a shadow fall over that gentle smile, Ji Yushu hastily denied her words, her slender hands waving frantically in the air as if to ward off the very notion.

Under the combined assault of mental tension and physical exhaustion, her breathing quickened. She then detected an aroma distinct from the ink, a simple, clean scent of soap, wafting into her nostrils.

Observing Qian Surou, who was also perspiring in the heat, Ji Yushu almost felt the other girl’s damp warmth—a subtle sensuality unique to summer and freshly bathed skin.

Qian Surou had been trying to arrange a meeting with her for days, but Ji Yushu had consistently used her busy training schedule as an excuse.

Ji Yushu was not so oblivious as to remain unaware; Qian Surou’s affections had never been concealed, shining like a bright, warm lantern in the dark of night, drawing her in with an irresistible allure.

Perhaps there was no harm in a moth drawn to a flame; after all, nothing in this world was truly perfect. Wouldn’t it simply be better to agree, even for Susu’s sake?

Despite her strenuous efforts to convince herself, she ultimately capitulated to her sense of morality and fear, opting for a cowardly yet effective evasion.

This continued until Qian Surou began appearing in the art room daily.

It became clear that there was no longer any escaping her.

As she made her way to the art room, a place she hadn’t visited in ages, she pulled open the door, which had been painted a deep rouge by the setting sun. What greeted her eyes was a stark division of light and shadow.

Then, glancing to the far reaches of the room, she confirmed Susu was indeed there, hidden in the shadows, shyly observing her.

An easel stood in the corner, nestled beside a radiator. On it, the blurred silhouette of a girl sprinted across a sunset-drenched track, the latest strokes of ink still glistening wet.

Against the painting’s predominantly dark palette, the girl shone like Sirius in the heavens, her distant, cloud-piercing destiny seemingly preordained.

Despite the romantic imagery, her heart continued its descent.

“I like you, Little Ji.”

These words became the final, crushing blow.

The beautiful crimson sunset felt like a knife plunging into her heart.

Outside the window, the rustling of lush green leaves transformed into a cacophony of malicious whispers, while the encroaching darkness to her side became a devil she was forced to confront.

It murmured words of temptation, ‘Come, come,’ over and over.

As Qian Surou hesitantly took a step forward, Ji Yushu realized she had no time left for further psychological bracing.

For some inexplicable reason, she was suddenly reminded of a puzzle game she used to play with her sister, where, regardless of whether a crucial item had been acquired, returning to a previous room was impossible.

Though the door stood directly behind her, she felt an overwhelming sensation of having no retreat.

Ji Yushu felt a thorn lodged in her throat, rendering her voice fragmented and hoarse.

Even though Qian Surou had now reverted to her usual demeanor, Ji Yushu couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that something dreadful was quietly brewing beneath the surface.

Qian Surou produced a handkerchief, drying her hands before closing the remaining distance and gently resting her palm upon Ji Yushu’s trembling shoulder.

Due to their height difference, Qian Surou had to rise onto her tiptoes.

Her fingers stroked with the same delicate tenderness one might use to soothe a cat.

“You haven’t done anything to offend me, so why the glum expression? It seems Little Ji isn’t quite as resilient to these things as I imagined… Or perhaps, are you so nervous because it’s me? Does that imply I still have a chance?”

Confessions between girls were a common occurrence in their all-girls school, and both Qian Surou and Ji Yushu were no strangers to this particular social whirlpool.

These declarations didn’t always signify romantic love; more often, they stemmed from admiration or aspiration. Yet, given their frequency, genuine infatuation was hardly a noteworthy event.

In tandem with rapid economic development, more advanced regions had begun to experiment with allowing minority groups to obtain legal recognition, thereby enhancing their social stability, stimulating their consumption, and, by extension, increasing societal acceptance.

Ji Yushu found herself unable to meet that gentle smile.

The next instant, her head was gently cradled by two slender, beautiful hands—hands that clearly had never known a day of strenuous labor.

Those graceful arms formed a bridge between them, and at the edge of Ji Yushu’s vision, Qian Surou’s eyes, now returned to their usual state, gleamed with an almost liquid tenderness.

“I’m just teasing. Honestly, half our class has gone through similar experiences. And, let’s be real, a ‘broken heart’ is the perfect excuse to invite friends out for fun or to watch online movies at home.

As my good friend, you shouldn’t be wearing such a gloomy expression, should you?”

Qian Surou lifted her chin, casually glossing over the entire situation with the everyday tone of someone sharing a humorous anecdote.

“Can we still be like before, good friends?”

Only after the words left her lips did she realize her mistake, the persistent ache in her throat refusing to subside. “My apologies. I bought the online film, Winter of Carnassus, yesterday. We should watch it together sometime!”

Her apron-clad back suddenly straightened. Qian Surou then turned sideways, presenting Ji Yushu with a profile of displeasure that, cinematically speaking, was absolutely flawless.

“It should be ‘closest friends,’ shouldn’t it? The irreplaceable kind.”

Qian Surou brought her left index finger to Ji Yushu’s lips, signaling that her choice of words was incorrect.

“Mm.”

Ji Yushu forced herself to conjure a cheerful smile.

Evidently, her earlier unease had merely been a fleeting misconception; Susu remained the same Susu she had always known.