Weakness Trap - Chapter 2

 

Yu Qingluan held the blue costume in her hands, stepping unevenly across the grass as she followed the club president across campus.

Xiang Yan trailed behind with needles and thread.

A corner of the costume fluttered in the wind. Golden-red fish swam through water, while rustling petals drifted onto the fabric.

At a single glance, anyone could tell this was an exquisitely crafted costume.

Its lifelike patterns concealed the meticulous beauty of an embroiderer’s utmost effort.

“Are you nervous?” the president asked, pausing every few steps.

Most of these costumes were handmade by their Hanfu Club. The longer one had taken a year to complete, Yu Qingluan had started it first, and the Drama Club had placed an order afterward. The shorter one had taken just over a month, with a tailor drafting the pattern and the president and Xiang Yan casually stitching simple designs onto it.

Yu Qingluan thought back to every stitch she had made over the past year and almost shook her head.

This was a piece into which she had poured her heart and soul every flower subtly conveyed her emotions.

Why should she be nervous about such a work? It was perfect in its own right.

But the person who would wear it was Yu Lingxue.

As Yu Qingluan looked at the costume again, for some reason, cold sweat began to trickle down her back.

Would the blue suit Yu Lingxue’s moon-white skin?

Would the blue-white butterflies and pink-green flowers accentuate her long, flowing black hair?

Would the hem that swept the ground and the sleeves that concealed her hands complement Yu Lingxue’s jade-like fingers?

Yu Qingluan took a sharp breath, her heart tightening and refusing to settle.

The president glanced at her and chuckled softly, as if to say, “See? Anyone would be nervous when it comes to Yu Lingxue.”

Yu Qingluan clutched the costume tightly to her chest and lowered her head.

Yet, when they first met, she hadn’t felt this nervous at all.

Yu Qingluan had almost forgotten when she had become so timid, cautious, and easily startled, like a frightened rabbit.

Crossing the dew kissed lawn and stepping into the crisp golden shade of the trees, the Hanfu Club members spotted the backstage crew already setting up props.

Without even looking up, Yu Qingluan could tell from the stillness of the woods that Yu Lingxue wasn’t there.

“Where’s the lead? Hasn’t she arrived yet?” the president asked, swinging a bag casually.

The crew member shook his head. “It’s still early. Fifteen minutes. Want to leave this here?”

The president turned to signal her club members.

Yu Qingluan and Xiang Yan lingered at the edge of the field, walking slowly.

“Is it heavy?” Yu Qingluan asked, eyeing Xiang Yan, who looked half-crushed under the weight.

“You know it is,” Xiang Yan replied, though her sturdy northeastern constitution kept her from even panting.

Yu Qingluan chuckled. “Even if it is, I’m not helping you carry it.”

“You’ve picked up bad habits from the president,” Xiang Yan could only shoot her a look.

“If there’s still time, I’ll fix a few more stitches.” In just a quarter of an hour, Yu Qingluan had already found flaws in her work.

Such was the nature of creation. Even in the blink of an eye, what once seemed perfect could suddenly appear flawed.

The two sat down, and Xiang Yan handed the needle to Yu Qingluan.

The president chattered away with the backstage crew on stage.

Below the stage, Yu Qingluan slowly mended the costume, stitch by stitch.

Xiang Yan watched her, feeling as though the usually fleeting quarter of an hour stretched endlessly long.

Perhaps it was a trait of girls like them, born and raised in the slow-paced Jiangnan region.

From temperament to action, everything moved at an astonishingly leisurely pace.

They could listen to the rain for an entire afternoon, wait for the moon for half a month.

A single piece of clothing could take a year to make and be worn for a decade.

A short journey could take an hour to walk, yet span half a lifetime.

On the thirtieth stitch, the silence was abruptly shattered by a sharp cry.

Both of them turned their heads simultaneously, hearing the second cry.

“Sounds like a cat,” Xiang Yan said, crouching down to search the floor.

Yu Qingluan lowered her head and continued embroidering, as if adding one more flower would better complement that radiant, moon-like senior.

“It really is a kitten. Qingluan, want to see?” Xiang Yan eventually discovered three palm sized kittens on the floor.

So tiny, probably not even weaned yet.

“No time,” Yu Qingluan refused her.

Xiang Yan then thought to herself that this girl could do many things very quickly.

Like refusing to look at the kittens, or agreeing to that person’s joking confession.

Xiang Yan gently stroked the kitten’s head. She lived on campus, with her home far away, unable to care for it, and decided to post on the forum after rehearsal to find someone to adopt it.

Then she returned to Yu Qingluan’s side and whispered, “Seeing how nervous you are, are you still in contact with her?”

Yu Qingluan didn’t respond. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead one after another, slipping into her weathered collar.

Xiang Yan sighed. “It’s perfect already. Don’t torment yourself.”

Yu Qingluan’s needle pricked her finger.

She pressed the blood onto her wrist, finishing the final touch on the flower. “It’s not enough yet.”

This was the costume for Yu Lingxue.

Merely reaching this level was far from sufficient.

Xiang Yan didn’t press further.

Trying to persuade someone to break up was asking for trouble.

And as for the person beside her… could it even be considered that she was dating that dazzling, popular figure?

Several lead actors entered noisily.

Before Yu Qingluan even looked up, the breeze carrying a strand of her hair caught Yu Lingxue’s scent first.

She lifted her head and saw Yu Lingxue surrounded by a crowd.

Yu Lingxue, as usual, lowered her lashes, wearing a faint smile, nodding occasionally as she listened to the trivial or tedious chatter around her.

It was the draft from the opened door that prompted Yu Lingxue to glance up.

Their eyes met, and Yu Qingluan clenched her toes, her heart tightening painfully.

But Yu Lingxue winked at her.

It made her steady breath turn rapid.

Watching their interaction, Xiang Yan withdrew her intention to advise.

An alarm clock can wake a light sleeper, but it can’t rouse someone lost in obsession.

“Qingluan, they’re calling you” The club president’s voice timely broke through Yu Qingluan’s tension.

Yu Qingluan hugged the costume, nearly forgetting to gather her thread.

Xiang Yan had to help her collect the needle and thread.

“Hurry, hurry, show your idol the costume you embroidered for her.”

The club president, stirring the pot without concern, placed a hefty label on Yu Qingluan.

Yu Qingluan came to an abrupt halt, wanting to explain that Yu Lingxue wasn’t her idol.

But no one around her seemed to find it odd.

After all, Yu Qingluan was an obscure junior, while Yu Lingxue was a dazzling senior.

If she was embroidering clothes for Yu Lingxue, how could she not be considered her “little admirer”?

Teasing remarks piled onto Yu Qingluan, forcing her to lower her head.

And Yu Lingxue, under everyone’s watchful eyes, accepted the costume.

“I heard you embroidered this yourself?” She had been kept in the dark for a year, never having seen this pattern.

Shouldn’t a disobedient little bird be punished?

Especially since a certain naughty bird still hadn’t replied to her messages.

“Yes,” Yu Qingluan unconsciously stared at the floor, her disheveled hair hiding her face but not her flushed ears.

“It’s beautiful. You’re amazing.” Yu Lingxue’s voice unintentionally carried a clear, enchanting tone, reminiscent of her British-accented natural voice.

It was like the faint fragrance lingering in her hair the first rose blooming under the moonlight.

RosyMoly. Yu Qingluan remembered this was the first gift she had bought for Yu Lingxue.

She also remembered every enchanting night, how Yu Lingxue would hold her hand and gently dab this elegant fragrance onto her wrist.

The sweet scent would then caress the goddess like jade skin, leaving its trail everywhere.

They hadn’t seen each other for a week, and now the fragrance only lingered in the ends of her hair.

“Th-thank you.” That subtle allure was something only Yu Qingluan, who had secretly shared intimate moments with her, could detect.

The blush at her ears spread unconsciously, like a mimosa folding its leaves, her voice so soft it was inaudible to others.

“I should be the one thanking you.” Having concluded her very public “teasing,” Yu Lingxue turned and walked toward the dressing room.

Yu Qingluan couldn’t help but glance back, her gaze following the scented ends of Yu Lingxue’s hair, swaying with every flutter of the loose strands.

The warm lights of the auditorium fell upon Yu Lingxue, softening her contours and tempering her usual aloofness.

She still carried that ever-present solitude not cold, but like the lingering chill after a Jiangnan rain, cool and sweet as it settled in the stomach, dispelling the stifling heat.

It was only then that Yu Qingluan belatedly felt the ghost of fingers that had just held her hand.

The tingling in her palm was like aloe vera used for a cold compress, soothing away the ache caused by Yu Lingxue’s admirers.

Yu Lingxue wasn’t a member of the drama club. She had only been asked by an enthusiastic member to make a guest appearance, playing the fleeting white moonlight in a traditional opera setting.

The drama club wanted to perform a Republican-era play at the Golden Autumn Festival.

Yu Qingluan had read the script. To be honest, the plot was quite melodramatic.

She always felt that this rollercoaster of love, hatred, and turmoil was unworthy of Yu Lingxue.

Yu Lingxue was pure radiance, a distant cloud.

She was the willow branch tenderly nurtured by the Buddha, adorned with dewdrops clear and cool.

She was the zither music played by a goddess in meditation, ethereal and everlasting.

She was an immortal who had never descended to the mortal world, unable to speak the language of humans, let alone be tainted by worldly dust.

Yet, she was so kind it seemed foolish never refusing any request within her power.

Though Yu Qingluan resented it, she couldn’t stop Yu Lingxue.

And all her discontent vanished the moment Yu Lingxue stepped out in her stage costume.

Without makeup, Yu Lingxue exuded only a distant, icy elegance; what drew her into the mortal realm was her ever-gentle smile.

Now, clad in elaborate stage attire, the leaping fish embroidered on her costume added vitality, while the blossoming branches adorned her with dense beauty and a touch of fragile decay.

The overall cyan hue of the costume, reminiscent of the Chu Yun River, made her appear simple and kind, like the beloved daughter of an embroiderer’s family.

“So beautiful.” someone nearby exclaimed, while many others took photos with their phones.

Yu Lingxue didn’t stop them, maintaining her usual smile and giving her classmates the utmost freedom.

Yu Qingluan also opened her phone, which had 98% battery, and after several stutters, finally entered the camera interface.

The resolution was terrible. The image quality was poor. The colors were off.

“Hey.” Yu Qingluan’s hesitant movements were startled away by the drama club president’s teasing.

“I knew you’d like Yu Lingxue too.” The president’s tone was that of a fellow fan who had found a kindred spirit.

“I don’t like Yu Lingxue.” Yu Qingluan clenched her hands and forced out the words.

The president didn’t believe her.

Only Xiang Yan, sitting nearby and quietly picking at her nails, knew that the “like” in Yu Qingluan’s mouth was different from theirs.

It was a desire-laden, once-in-a-lifetime, profoundly unique kind of like.

On stage, Yu Lingxue keenly caught Yu Qingluan’s voice and slightly lowered her head.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the stubborn mimosa.

Her little rabbit, her rebellious bird.

So stubborn and so adept at hiding from everyone.

Yu Lingxue didn’t believe there would ever be a day when Yu Qingluan didn’t like her.

The scent of roses in her hair, the faint heat of sweat on her back, the obvious dryness in her throat—it was all so intense that it gave Yu Lingxue this confidence.

The club president had dragged Yu Qingluan to watch the drama club’s rehearsal, so Xiang Yan stayed behind as well.

The three of them watched as the lead actors on stage argued over the unsatisfactory performance effects.

The argument even dragged in the Hanfu club’s carefully prepared costumes.

“Why choose a Republican-era play of all things? The emotional complexity is so high—how many of us can pull it off? The costumes are cumbersome too; it’s so easy to step on the hem.”

“And you think Shakespeare, which you wanted to perform, doesn’t have intense emotional expressions? European-style dresses are expensive and hard to borrow… Our classmates worked hard to sew these costumes for us. If you had issues with them, you should’ve said so from the start.”

The drama club’s president and vice-president were arguing fiercely.

Yu Lingxue, feeling a headache coming on, tried to mediate from the side.

Her voice was weak, unable to rise above the noise, and her face showed clear distress.

Yu Qingluan mustered her courage, wanting to step in and help Yu Lingxue.

But the vice-president’s attitude had angered the Hanfu club’s president.

The president held Yu Qingluan back.

What started as an argument between two people soon escalated into a full-blown quarrel among the group.

The noise grew so loud that no one noticed the small kitten on the floor.

Amid the chaos, Yu Qingluan saw Yu Lingxue crouch down. Without a second thought, she broke free from the president’s grip and rushed toward the stage.

“Watch out you’re stepping on someone!” she shouted with all her might.

“Ah you stepped on Senior Yu! Stop arguing!” a junior with diamond earrings screamed almost hysterically.

The crowd froze instantly.

By the time Yu Qingluan reached the front of the stage, she saw Yu Lingxue crouching, a bright red mark clearly visible on the back of her hand.

Yu Qingluan couldn’t see the condition of the costume, but no matter how torn it was, she could mend it. What truly worried her was Yu Lingxue’s injury.

Under Yu Lingxue’s palm, a calico kitten was safely sheltered, scrambling about nervously.

From the looks of it, the kitten had been mere millimeters away from being trampled.

“Yu Lingxue, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, We got too carried away.”

“Quick, who can take Senior Yu to the infirmary to get bandaged?”

“What’s wrong with you all? Arguing so fiercely you can’t even see a person, let alone a cat?”

Another wave of commotion erupted from the crowd.

They were lost in their own frenzy, completely unaware of the shy seamstress who had quietly made her way to the front, head bowed so low she couldn’t even muster a proper thank you, hoping to reach the snow lotus they all revered.

Yu Lingxue picked up the kitten and cradled it in her arms, acting as if the injury on her hand didn’t hurt at all.

“It’s alright. Just be more careful next time. Don’t argue anymore getting so worked up isn’t good for your health, and it’s hard to recover from.”

She continued gently urging everyone to stop fighting.

This group finally quieted down, almost in unison, crowding around Yu Lingxue and accompanying her to the infirmary.

There were just too many people.

Yu Qingluan, overlooked and forgotten, didn’t even have the right to call out Yu Lingxue’s name.

Let alone push through the crowd to get close to her, for fear that the mimosa’s delicate leaves would curl up under the pressure and never unfurl again.

Those admirers were not to be trifled with.

Yu Qingluan had learned that lesson all too well last winter.

Moreover, in public, she and Yu Lingxue were merely strangers.

The liveliness on stage faded as they stepped off to the side, returning to the ground.

The stage lights followed them, tracing a clear line before Yu Qingluan.

On one side was the warmth of natural tones and harmonious clamor.

On the other, the chill of blue and black, a solitary loneliness.

Many people spoke to Yu Lingxue as they had upon arrival, and she responded with the same serene smile, acknowledging them all.

Yu Qingluan no longer had the courage to approach.

After all, in the eyes of outsiders, who would believe that Yu Lingxue had any connection with someone like her dressed in clothes mended with ten patches?

Their brief exchange about the stage costumes was already a great blessing, the extent of their interaction.

A goddess only casts her gaze upon all things; she would never linger for anyone.

At least in the daylight, at least at this moment.

Even Yu Qingluan couldn’t make Yu Lingxue pause.

Perhaps, in others’ eyes, she was even less significant than that cat about to be stepped on, which Yu Lingxue had shielded.

“Let’s go. Stop thinking about her.” Xiang Yan patted Yu Qingluan’s shoulder, wanting to console her but having already said all there was to say.

“Ah, we’re just not from the same world. We can’t even compare to the people around her, let alone fit in.”

The club president bluntly added salt to the wound.

Xiang Yan looked at Yu Qingluan, concern evident in his eyes.

Yu Qingluan only stared blankly back, foolishly gazing at the door through which Yu Lingxue had departed. The light there was too bright, and she could no longer make out Yu Lingxue’s figure. “Yeah.”

Yeah. She was too poor, too insignificant.

She couldn’t even measure up to the people surrounding Yu Lingxue.

After finishing her last class, Yu Qingluan dragged along the needle and thread she had brought, trudging step by step toward the banks of the Chu Yun River.

She finally hauled her things to the riverside, wiping away sweat that added another day’s wear to her sleeves.

The Chu Yun River was always quiet in the evening. Even her senior sister had gone home for dinner.

Catching her breath, Yu Qingluan felt a tap on her back.

A playful touch, accompanied by a familiar phrase. “My little bird.”