Distance Formula - Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Su Yan slowly raised her head. Bai Biqing still hadn’t let go of her hand. Not far away, the crowd had begun to cheer; many people were exclaiming in surprise, and the restaurant even played lyrical music to match the moment.

“I…” Su Yanshi didn’t know what to say. She stared blankly at Bai Biqing, who was watching her tenderly. It was rare to see the Beta reveal such a defenseless gaze—it was as if, though the surrounding roses were in full bloom, her eyes held only a lingering affection for the person before her.

For a moment, she was actually speechless.

Bai Biqing released her hand, the warmth of Su Yanshi’s palm still lingering in her own. She asked, “Want to go take a look? After all, a scene like this isn’t something you see every day.”

Su Yanshi hadn’t fully regained her composure. She took a deep breath and nodded: “Yes.”

“Then put your mask back on properly. I’ll have the manager pack up the rest of the desserts; we can go play somewhere else and eat as we walk.”

Bai Biqing’s words were light, but every syllable carried weight.

Su Yanshi looked at her, thinking to herself that just a second ago, this person had been angry, yet in the next, it was as if nothing had happened. She still spoke to her so gently. When she had first discovered this trait, her heart had been filled with immense fear.

Countless former lovers of hers had treated her the same way; they began by tolerating everything about her. No matter what mistakes she made, they would say, “It’s okay,” “You’ve improved since last time,” or “You’re very good.” It wasn’t until Su Yanshi had step-by-step become exactly who they wanted her to be that she learned this was merely a precursor to falling out of love. Compared to cold indifference, this kind of gradual cooling was far more terrifying.

Su Yanshi understood this truth deeply. Gradually, she became insecure in relationships, and her friendships became cautious. One moment she could be radiant on stage, and the next she would be sad for an entire day because she said one wrong word. She couldn’t show her joy openly or display her grief. She could only spend her free time every day ruminating on which sentence was a mistake or which gesture was inappropriate.

But by the time she felt regret, it was always too late.

Being prone to gain and loss had imperceptibly become her label.

But Bai Biqing was different.

Su Yanshi had met many Omegas and Betas, but this person was unique.

Bai Biqing was beautiful and confident. She had seen the arrogant way this person acted in front of others, yet she was willing to wake up early to make breakfast for her. She had seen the serious way this person handled work calls, and she had seen her impatient frowns, yet she was willing to be her assistant.

Every day, she conscientiously arranged her work and allocated her time. Calculating carefully, it seemed it had been about twenty days, but Su Yanshi felt the time was far too short.

If she had to name the first person in her life who was willing to treat her like this, Bai Biqing would be the first to appear in her mind.

Su Yanshi sometimes wondered what Bai Biqing was after—her acting skills or something else? But thinking carefully, she seemed to have nothing at all. Even when she went out, she had to hide; if people asked, she’d say she was dodging paparazzi and fans.

Her daily schedule was crammed with announcements and scripts, stuffing her life to the brim. But only Su Yanshi knew that what she wanted had long since veered off track.

Once money was in hand, it became an endless source of helplessness.

Back when she first met Li Zhuonan, she had vowed to become a huge star. Currently, everything seemed to be progressing steadily, but occasionally, when the two of them rested, they would discover a sense of helplessness. When did their conversations become fewer? When did their meetings become nothing but work? Clearly, the friendship was still there, but in the end, it was different.

After realizing this problem, Su Yanshi sat at home and thought for a long time, but she never tried to salvage a path that had gone astray. She knew perfectly well that some things couldn’t be forced, and she didn’t have the strength to fight for them.

Then came the overwhelming internet bullying. To give the opponent a final blow, she endured a full week of verbal abuse; she couldn’t sleep, staring blankly for night after night.

It wasn’t until after the matter was resolved that Li Zhuonan noticed something was wrong with her. At that time, she couldn’t even remember her own state clearly; she only had vague judgments—they said she had hallucinations and heard voices. When she was sent to the hospital, she had been uncooperative with the treatment.

Su Yanshi didn’t feel much of anything, even after listening to the full story over and over again; she remained unmoved.

Looking at her dull-eyed self in the video recordings, she only felt she was a fool for making herself so disheveled over some inconsequential people.

But in reality, every time she comforted herself this way, she would end up receiving the pressure of external public opinion. However, her appearance became even more outstanding, she took on more work, and after just a few years of debut, she felt as if her whole life had reached its end.

Only after winning an award did she slowly start to rest, but she still needed to maintain a certain level of popularity. Because she relied on this for a living.

Su Yanshi knew exactly what she wanted. She wasn’t some second-generation rich kid; she liked money, and she liked the feeling of being in control of it. So, she couldn’t stop. She also loved acting—loved playing all sorts of characters and experiencing their lives.

But that didn’t mean she enjoyed drinking glass after glass of wine just to avoid “unspoken rules.”

Even if she possessed strong liquor-scented pheromones, during that period, she would feel nauseous the moment she smelled alcohol.

It seemed everything was slowly getting better.

She had money, status, and so much more. In the words of others, she already possessed so much—what else could she lack?

Su Yanshi thought that she probably lacked a great deal.

Human nature is often at its weakest and darkest; people are often caught in the middle. She was fragile and broken, yet ruthlessly dark. She got what she wanted, yet remained unsatisfied.

It was only once she looked back that she realized everything required a price to be paid; Su Yanshi was no exception.

In the long years, Bai Biqing was an accident, a pleasant surprise.

She didn’t know why they had met, but she understood that this person’s kindness toward her was sincere and heartfelt.

Last night, Su Yanshi was thinking that even if the final outcome wasn’t good, she enjoyed and liked this period of time.

She only hoped time would slow down.

Just like this—

“Yanshi, why are you spacing out?”

Bai Biqing, who was packing the desserts, waved her hand in front of Su Yanshi: “Have you gone silly?”

Su Yanshi gave a blank “Ah.” She stood up and stood side-by-side with her, her fingertip pressing a white mark onto the tabletop. She lowered her head, feeling her heart beating differently.

She was thinking, and she was speaking: “Teacher Bai, why are you so good to me?”

Bai Biqing didn’t hesitate. She smiled: “Because you’re worth it.”

“Alright, let’s go look, or we’ll miss it in a moment. We won’t even be able to offer our blessings.”

Su Yanshi reached out and patted her chest, nodding: “Mm. Let’s go.”

Bai Biqing stared at her profile, feeling that something was slightly off, so she reached out and took Su Yanshi’s hand, leaning over slightly: “What’s wrong with you? You seem a bit out of sorts.”

“I’m fine.”

Bai Biqing was suspicious: “Really nothing?”

Su Yanshi looked into her eyes, then nodded. She thought for a moment, then took Bai Biqing’s hand and gently placed it against her own heart: “Teacher Bai, I’m happy because you’re coaxing me. My heart is beating very fast.”

Bai Biqing froze on the spot. In her palm, she felt the rhythmic, powerful rise and fall—that was Su Yanshi’s life.

She managed to find her voice: “Why are you happy?”

Su Yanshi tilted her head. She let go of her hand, probably feeling the posture wasn’t very flattering: “It’s just that I feel you’re very good to me, and I’m very grateful.”

Bai Biqing withdrew her hand as if she didn’t care. At first, she said nothing, finally deciding not to press further: “Is it really—”

She didn’t finish her sentence, skipping over the topic. she raised her chin, gesturing for Su Yanshi to move: “Go and see.”

The Alpha nodded: “Okay.”

The proposal was by an Alpha-Omega couple; the male Alpha was down on one knee, surrounded by a crowd cheering.

“Marry him!”

“Marry him!”

Even Bai Biqing began to clap, her eyes full of smiles, offering them sincere blessings.

Su Yanshi set the desserts aside and clapped forcefully. She whispered to Bai Biqing: “I feel you’re very happy.”

“I am. After all, being able to witness a testimony of love—how romantic.”

Su Yanshi looked on and thought that was true.

The Omega stared at her Alpha in surprise for a long time, her tears flowing uncontrollably. She accepted the ring and spoke her reasons, and the crowd began cheering again: “Kiss her!”

Bai Biqing didn’t have much interest in this part. She looked down at Su Yanshi, and both saw the urge to escape in each other’s eyes.

The two carefully exited the restaurant.

Su Yanshi pulled down her mask, trying to make it impossible for people to recognize who she was, though in truth, her original appearance was already difficult to identify now.

The Alpha stuffed small mouthfuls of dessert into her mouth, her mood soaring.

Bai Biqing glanced at her several times, feeling the way she ate was exceptionally cute. She pressed her finger to her lips and laughed, suddenly saying: “Actually, my parents are also very much in love. My family consists of a female Alpha and a male Omega.”

Su Yanshi’s footsteps paused. Bai Biqing could tell at a glance that she was listening intently.

“Both my father and mother are very strong-willed, and they love each other deeply. I remember when I was seven years old, my mother suddenly fell seriously ill; overnight, the Alpha of the house collapsed. My father held himself up with sheer willpower every day, losing a lot of weight during that time. The doctors said the chances of a cure were very slim and told us to be psychologically prepared.”

“At the time, I felt the sky had turned grey. My father cried while holding me and my brother; we rarely ever saw him shed a tear. Later, when my mother learned of this, she said nothing. It was only on the night before her surgery that we saw a full sixteen vials of pheromone extraction agent. She knew my father wouldn’t clear the marking, so she had made preparations early on.”

Su Yanshi stopped. She asked, “How is your mother now?”

Bai Biqing suddenly smiled, her tone rising: “They are living very well now. Sometimes when I see such pure love, I feel envious.”

“I’m always surrounded by people who crave many things from me—some sincere, some false, but in the end, it all comes to nothing. In my romantic life, eight or nine times out of ten, it’s like that.”

Su Yanshi thought for a moment and said seriously: “I’m not after your wealth.”

She knew very well that the Alpha wasn’t referring to a romantic relationship.

Bai Biqing raised an eyebrow, her hands tightening behind her back, speaking in a joking tone: “Sincerity for sincerity?”

Su Yanshi nodded and said: “Yes.”

“Sincerity—for sincerity.”

Support