Wen Yifan averted her gaze without commenting on those words, merely giving a noncommittal “Mm.”
She had no way to verify the truthfulness of what she’d heard. The only puzzling point was why they would bring up Sang Yan’s high school affairs during a gathering after their university graduation ceremony. After all, even Su Hao’an seemed completely unaware of their relationship.
Moreover, given Sang Yan’s prideful nature, he would never willingly reveal his vulnerabilities to others, nor would he bother confiding in anyone.
So Wen Yifan couldn’t imagine what might have prompted this topic.
Then again, perhaps it was mentioned casually, as a lighthearted joke? Considering how much time had passed, that seemed plausible.
Thinking it through, Wen Yifan found it quite reasonable. She didn’t dwell on it further, only finding the situation rather intriguing.
She hadn’t expected to become “the best” in such a manner.
“Senior Sang also said later,” Mu Chengyun turned to look at her, adding appropriately, “that if he met this person again, he might try to pursue her once more, but his mindset would be different from before.”
Wen Yifan continued steering, remaining silent.
After finishing, Mu Chengyun paused for a few seconds, seemingly trying to guess her thoughts. He smiled faintly and said in a casual tone, “But it was probably just drunken talk, not necessarily his true feelings.”
As these words faded, the car fell silent once more.
Wen Yifan pondered for a moment before suddenly blurting out, “Didn’t you say earlier…”
“Hm?”
Wen Yifan pointed out the flaw in his story: “That he only said one thing the entire evening?”
“…” Mu Chengyun’s smile froze briefly before quickly returning to normal. “Did I say that before? I don’t remember. Maybe I was drunk and misspoke.”
“Then you should be more careful in the future. Don’t drink too much when you go out. In our line of work, emergencies can happen at any time,” Wen Yifan said, then added seriously, “Also, it’s fine to gossip casually now and then, but you can’t approach the news with this attitude.”
“…”
“Your reports should reflect exactly what you see and hear,” Wen Yifan said calmly, as if addressing Fu Zhuang, “You can’t rely on guesswork, nor use excuses like mishearing, misremembering, or misspeaking. Everything must be based on facts.”
Mu Chengyun’s smile completely vanished.
His expression turned serious as he hurriedly agreed, “I understand.”
–
They drove to Nanwu City People’s Hospital.
After finding a parking spot, Wen Yifan and Mu Chengyun grabbed their equipment and headed toward the orthopedics department, following the signs. During this brief interval, Wen Yifan glanced at her phone, replying to a few messages.
Before coming, Wen Yifan had contacted the hospital and the injured girl’s mother, obtaining permission for the interview. She had learned beforehand that the victim was a girl who had just started seventh grade, named Zhang Yu.
Zhang Yu was born with damaged vocal cords and couldn’t speak.
On the day of the incident, Zhang Yu had gone out to eat with her classmates, returning home later than usual. While crossing the street, the perpetrator hit her and, unable to brake in time, ran over her right leg.
This situation immediately sobered up the perpetrator, who got out of the car and called an ambulance.
The two entered Zhang Yu’s hospital room.
It was a three-person ward, currently full. Zhang Yu lay in the middle bed, having just finished surgery, her leg in a cast. She looked young and delicate, her eyes red and swollen, clearly having just cried.
Zhang Yu’s mother sat beside her, consoling her softly.
Wen Yifan approached and greeted them, then introduced herself.
Zhang Yu’s mother, named Chen Lizhen, looked nothing like the mother of such a grown child. Her appearance was well-maintained, with an extremely gentle demeanor. She was very cooperative with Wen Yifan’s interview, never showing any impatience or displeasure throughout.
To avoid further upsetting Zhang Yu, the interview took place outside the ward.
Wen Yifan asked questions while taking notes, with Mu Chengyun filming beside her.
“The child is the most heartbroken,” Chen Lizhen said, rubbing her brow. As she spoke, her eyes reddened, “She had just transferred to Nanwu Arts School, and now we don’t know what to do. We’re not sure if this will affect her dancing.”
Wen Yifan paused, then asked, “Does little Yu dance?”
Chen Lizhen turned her head, wiping away tears: “Yes, ballet. She’s been dancing since she was seven.”
Hearing this, Wen Yifan glanced towards the hospital room.
The little girl was lowering her head, her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyelashes trembled slightly as tears fell unconsciously once more. Yet she had no way to express herself, even her cries were silent.
“Because she can’t speak, little Yu has always been very introverted and doesn’t have many friends,” Chen Lizhen said while pulling out her phone to show some photos. “When we discovered her talent for dancing, we found her a training class. It was only after she started dancing that she gradually became more outgoing.”
“The doctor said we’ll have to see how little Yu recovers later. They can’t be certain if there will be any lasting effects,” Chen Lizhen’s expression showed signs of fatigue. “We’ve been discussing with little Yu’s father whether we should transfer her back to a regular middle school.”
Wen Yifan’s gaze remained fixed, her expression somewhat distant.
She recalled her high school days.
Back then, Wen Yifan had also transferred from being a dance student to a regular student due to a similar situation.
During the summer break of her first year in high school, Wen Yifan participated in an off-campus training organized by the school. Before that, she had been experiencing persistent pain in her knee joint, which became unbearable during this period of practice.
Accompanied by Zhao Yuandong, Wen Yifan went to the hospital.
She was diagnosed with a grade II meniscus injury in her knee joint.
The doctor prescribed medication and advised her to rest for three months, during which she couldn’t engage in any strenuous exercise.
While this wasn’t considered serious, for a dance student like Wen Yifan, the impact was not insignificant. Although she felt anxious, there was nothing else she could do. She could only follow the doctor’s orders, hoping to recover soon.
Once she recovered, she planned to work hard to catch up on what she had missed.
But before the new semester began.
What caught Wen Yifan completely off guard was Zhao Yuandong coming to her room one night, hesitantly asking if she would be willing to transfer back to being a regular student.
She found it absurd.
She felt that such a minor ailment was far from enough reason for her to give up the dance she had been practicing for nearly ten years.
Wen Yifan refused without a second thought.
But after Zhao Yuandong brought it up repeatedly.
Wen Yifan gradually realized that Zhao Yuandong’s suggestion didn’t seem to stem from concern about her foot injury. Later, she accidentally overheard a conversation between her stepfather and Zhao Yuandong, revealing that as an art student, the expenses for holiday training were too high.
Not just this time.
Every holiday would require training, and each time would cost money.
It was becoming difficult for them to bear.
Zhao Yuandong didn’t work, and the savings she had were all left by Wen Liangzhe, which had now become the common property of the new family.
Her stepfather was unwilling to spend this money and took this opportunity to suggest that Wen Yifan transfer back to being a regular student. His attitude was firm, citing numerous reasons, and given Zhao Yuandong’s indecisive nature, she eventually agreed after hearing him out.
After that, Wen Yifan’s objections became completely futile.
Once adults had made a decision, no matter how unwilling or resistant a child might be, it was all in vain. Those small voices were like transparent, invisible things.
When the new semester of her second year in high school began, Wen Yifan transferred back to being a regular student.
This news shocked her other classmates, who found it very puzzling. It was akin to a top-performing science student suddenly deciding to switch to liberal arts just before the college entrance exams in their final year.
Several close friends came to ask her about it in turn.
Wen Yifan couldn’t bring herself to say it was because her family found the expenses too high and didn’t want to bear the cost anymore. So she lied to everyone, exaggerating her condition.
— She said her foot injury was so severe that she could never dance again.
Sang Yan was the last one to ask her about it.
At that time, Wen Yifan was sitting at her desk, quietly lowering her eyes. She didn’t look at him, continuing to gaze at the textbook in her hands as she calmly repeated what she had said before.
Sang Yan remained silent for a while before asking, “You really can’t dance anymore?”
Wen Yifan: “Mm.”
Sang Yan: “What kind of injury did you get?”
Wen Yifan chuckled mirthlessly: “This is just how it turned out.”
The young man before her fell silent again.
Wen Yifan turned a page in her book and said softly, “It’s okay, I didn’t like dancing that much anyway.”
Shortly after, from the corner of her eye, Wen Yifan saw Sang Yan raise his hand and lightly touch her nose.
She looked up.
Sang Yan met her eyes and tugged at the corner of his mouth: “Your nose got longer.”
“…”
Lying makes your nose grow longer.
Everyone else had been fooled by her extremely calm demeanor.
Only Sang Yan saw through her facade.
“It’s alright, let’s wait a bit longer,” Sang Yan said, half-sprawled on her desk, also looking up at her. “If it gets better, you can always transfer back to being an art student. Look at how terrible your grades are now, it’s a good chance to study a bit.”
Wen Yifan looked at him without saying a word.
“If it doesn’t get better, maybe you could still dance occasionally?”
“…”
“If that’s not possible either,” Sang Yan smiled, his tone as if coaxing a child, “then I’ll learn and dance for you to watch.”
…
Wen Yifan’s thoughts were interrupted by Chen Lizhen’s words.
Chen Lizhen smiled and perked up: “But we’ll still see what little Yu wants. Whatever choice she makes, her father and I will support and respect her decision.”
Wen Yifan looked back at Chen Lizhen, blinking hard before smiling as well.
“Yes, she’ll get better.”
–
After the interview, Wen Yifan and Mu Chengyun visited a few more places.
They returned to the station before 4 PM. Entering the editing room, Mu Chengyun imported the footage into the system, occasionally asking Wen Yifan questions. She answered each one, writing the script while listening to the synchronized audio.
By the time they submitted the finished news piece for review, it was already dinnertime.
Wen Yifan packed up her things and left the editing room.
Mu Chengyun followed her out, casually asking, “Sister Yifan, are you working overtime tonight? Want to grab dinner together?”
“Mm, I still have some work to do,” Wen Yifan replied. In truth, she had nothing left to do and should have been heading home, but she feared running into Sang Yan if she went back now. “I’m not eating. You go ahead.”
Mu Chengyun scratched his head, saying quietly, “I’ve noticed you don’t seem to eat dinner much. It’s not good for your health.”
Wen Yifan smiled, “I know. I’ll eat if I get hungry.”
“How about I pack something for you?”
“No need.”
“Well… alright then.” Mu Chengyun didn’t push further, following her back to the office. “I’ll just grab something quick at the company cafeteria. I need to stay late to write up the report anyway.”
Wen Yifan took out her phone, casually scrolling through her messages. “Mm.”
Busy with work all day, Wen Yifan hadn’t had time to think about other matters. But now that she had a moment to herself, the events from that morning came flooding back, echoing in her mind.
Wen Yifan still hadn’t figured out how to handle the situation when she got home.
But after a day’s buffer, her state of mind wasn’t as frazzled as before.
Wen Yifan’s thoughts cleared a bit as she recalled the earlier events. She gradually remembered how Sang Yan had looked at her for a second after opening his eyes that morning, then pulled her back into bed and held her.
She paused.
Suddenly, something felt odd about that.
Once this thought occurred to her, Wen Yifan found it increasingly incredible.
How could someone wake up to find a person of the opposite sex lying in their bed and remain so calm as to continue sleeping?
Not only did he not instantly wake up like her, but he even made such a gesture.
Wen Yifan began to question her sanity.
She wasn’t sure if the problem was on her end or if Sang Yan’s reaction was a strange one.
She wanted to ask someone about it, but it didn’t seem appropriate to bring it up. Even if she asked using the “I have a friend” approach, people would assume she was talking about herself.
That would mean a third person in this world would know she had sleepwalked into Sang Yan’s bed.
That she had done such a shameless thing.
Suddenly, Wen Yifan remembered the anonymous confession post she had seen earlier.
Hesitantly, Wen Yifan opened Weibo and found that the blogger, slowly typing in the message box. She didn’t dare describe the actual situation, fearing that by some coincidence, Sang Yan might also be following this blogger.
After pondering for a while, Wen Yifan decided to change the premise entirely.
[Anonymous request: A while back, I went out with a group of friends. We went to karaoke and rented a private room. Most people got drunk, so we just slept in the room. When I woke up, I found myself lying next to a male friend, and he was hugging me. When I tried to sit up, he woke up, looked at me with a somewhat groggy expression, then hugged me and went back to sleep. I want to ask, is this a normal reaction when someone wakes up next to a person of the opposite sex?]
After typing out the situation, Wen Yifan read it over again. The word “hug” appeared twice, making her feel uncomfortable. She hesitated for a long time before finally sending it.
At the same time, she received a WeChat message.
Wen Yifan opened it.
It was from Sang Yan: [When are you coming back]
The tone suggested he finally had time to address the consequences with her. Just thinking about it gave Wen Yifan a headache. She glanced at the couch in the break room and made up her mind: [I still have some work today.]
Wen Yifan: [I might not be able to come back.]
Wen Yifan: [Why don’t you just lock the door?]
Half a minute passed.
Sang Yan: [Wen Yifan]
Then silence.
This use of her full name without saying anything else filled her with an unknown dread.
Wen Yifan anxiously waited for five or six minutes.
Finally, he responded very slowly with:
[Take some responsibility for your actions]
“…”
–
Given Sang Yan’s words, Wen Yifan felt her behavior was utterly despicable. Moreover, she realized she couldn’t keep living at the company forever; she’d have to face him sooner or later.
Avoidance wouldn’t solve anything.
Better to resolve it as soon as possible.
Seeing this message, Wen Yifan calmly replied: [I’ll try to finish my work and come back early then.]
To make her words more believable, Wen Yifan waited an hour after sending that message before leaving the company. On her way home, she kept thinking about what to say when she arrived.
She carefully chose her words.
Not satisfied with just rehearsing in her mind, Wen Yifan decided to be fully prepared, fearing she might forget her lines. She took out her phone, opened the notes app, and typed everything out as if writing a script.
By the time Wen Yifan got home, she had prepared a very sincere speech.
Wen Yifan changed into her indoor slippers and glanced towards the living room.
No sign of Sang Yan.
Wen Yifan breathed a small sigh of relief and walked over to sit on the couch. As she poured herself a glass of water, she listened for any movement around her, hearing the sound of running water from the bathroom.
Oh.
He was showering.
Wen Yifan took a sip of water, calming her nerves. She turned on her phone again, staring at the carefully crafted words in her notes app, silently reading them over in her mind a few times.
Hearing the bathroom door open, Wen Yifan put down her phone.
The sound of Sang Yan’s slippers slapping against the floor approached.
The next moment, Sang Yan appeared before Wen Yifan’s eyes.
He had a towel draped over his head, his upper body bare, wearing only a pair of shorts. His physique was robust, revealing well-defined abdominal muscles. Upon seeing Wen Yifan, he remained calm, merely raising an eyebrow: “So you decided to come back after all?”
This scene caused blood to rush to Wen Yifan’s head.
She quickly averted her gaze.
All the composure she had built up seemed to vanish with his appearance. She held back and reminded him, “Sang Yan, we agreed before. No revealing clothes in common areas.”
“Oh.” Sang Yan grabbed a nearby t-shirt and put it on. “I thought I was already doomed anyway.”
Seeing from the corner of her eye that he was dressed, Wen Yifan looked up. “What do you mean?”
This time, Sang Yan didn’t sit in his usual spot, but next to her instead. He leaned forward to pour himself a glass of water, drawling, “We’ve already kissed and touched. What difference does it make now if I wear a shirt in front of you or not?”
“…”
The distance between them shortened.
Wen Yifan instantly caught the scent of sandalwood on him, mixed with a faint smell of alcohol.
She pressed her lips together, forcibly changing the subject: “Have you been drinking?”
Sang Yan turned his head, lazily replying, “Mm.”
“Then I won’t bother you for too long. Let’s quickly discuss this matter so you can rest early.” This proximity made Wen Yifan inexplicably nervous, but she met his eyes and spoke calmly, “It’s like this: after what happened this morning, I realized my sleepwalking has no sense of direction.”
Sang Yan’s eyes were pitch black, staring directly at her.
“Blocking the door with a chair doesn’t help much. For the time being, just remember to lock your door when you sleep.” Not wanting him to think she was guilty, Wen Yifan didn’t avoid his gaze. “I’ll also go to the hospital soon—”
Before she could finish, Sang Yan suddenly raised his hand.
Watching his movement, the rest of Wen Yifan’s words caught in her throat.
Sang Yan’s action seemed to slow down infinitely, his expression casual and relaxed. He languidly touched her cheek, his fingertips cool against her skin.
Just one touch, and then he withdrew.
“Your face is red.”