Chapter 10: If I Go Bald, Will You Still Love Me? (10)

Bai Yao kept grumbling about Shen Ji, yet her hands moved with gentle care, tidying him up until he once again became that clean, well-groomed, sunlit youth. Her phone, drained completely from keeping the flashlight on, was tucked away in her bag, and Shen Ji, obedient for once, reached to carry it for her without hesitation.

He didn’t feel the slightest embarrassment hanging a pink girl’s bag across his shoulder.

Holding Bai Yao’s hand, Shen Ji pleaded, “Yao Yao, give me another kiss.”

Bai Yao pushed his face aside with her hand and pulled him up. “A kiss? I’m still angry, you know!”

Shen Ji looked at her pitifully, resembling a small animal yearning for its master’s touch.

Bai Yao remained unmoved.

She tugged Shen Ji along, but accidentally bumped into something nearby. With a few sharp sounds, objects fell to the floor, stirring up a cloud of dust.

Bai Yao covered her mouth and coughed a few times.

Shen Ji waved his hand in front of her, as if he could sweep away the dust with a gesture.

Bai Yao now saw clearly what had fallen—a painting easel, old and fragile, shattered into pieces as it hit the ground. The half-burned drawing board atop it was also broken into several parts.

Seeing Bai Yao crouch down again, Shen Ji assumed she felt guilty for breaking something and said, “Yao Yao, this isn’t important.”

But Bai Yao still picked up a piece of the drawing board. Whatever had been painted was now indistinct, only a hint of color remained. She spoke, “I heard there was a fire here many years ago.”

Shen Ji crouched beside her, thoughtfully holding up the hem of her dress, and replied, “I think that’s true.”

Bai Yao continued, “Most things here were burned, but this drawing board was preserved better than the rest. The person trapped here must have protected it well.”

Shen Ji tilted his head, blinked, and remained silent.

After the fire, the building was abandoned outright, and nobody ever suggested restoring it. The incident was so long ago, by now much was lost to blurred memory—how the fire started, how many perished.

Over the years, curious students had snuck in to explore, and there were always those who exaggerated or spread rumors: some claimed to have encountered supernatural events, others said the deepest art room on the fourth floor was impossible to find, and a few even spoke of seeing a shadowy figure reeking of smoke and char.

School legends never fade.

If Bai Yao were to comment, she’d say it’s all nonsense—the art room was right here, after all, hardly vanished.

She tried to reassemble the broken drawing board. The poor lighting and her mediocre puzzle skills made her slow, so she nudged the boy beside her with her elbow. “Help me.”

Shen Ji obediently gathered all the fragments and swiftly pieced them together.

Now the painting became clearer.

It depicted a window. Iron bars across it fractured the sunset’s golden glow, the evening clouds outside stretching into infinity, making the small window appear even more confining, almost suffocating. Scorched marks speckled the canvas, the black streaks its most somber embellishments.

Though the painting showed a beautiful sunset, it evoked the feeling of someone trapped within an iron cage.

A fine work always conveys the artist’s thoughts to the viewer.

A thought occurred to Bai Yao. She gently wiped away the blackened marks at the edge of the frame, murmuring, “I hope the painter escaped.”

Rather than perishing in the fire.

Shen Ji gently tugged her hand, “Yao Yao, it’s so dark here. Let’s leave.”

Bai Yao let herself be pulled to her feet, muttering, “Now you’re afraid of the dark, but you weren’t scared when you were hiding here to eat.”

Shen Ji looked innocent, pure, making one’s heart soften for no reason.

Though moonlight shone outside, the corridor was long and wherever there were no windows, darkness prevailed. Shen Ji guided Bai Yao around obstacles, as if he possessed night vision, always leading her smoothly through.

But Bai Yao couldn’t see, and so she walked slowly. Wearing new high heels, her steps grew less steady.

In the darkness, Shen Ji suddenly said, “Yao Yao, you’re hurt.”

Before Bai Yao could react, she felt him crouch down and a cool hand gently grasp her ankle, lifting her foot.

“Your skin is broken. Does it hurt?” Shen Ji asked.

He meant her heel, rubbed raw by the shoes. Was he not a bit too perceptive?

She hadn’t said a word about her discomfort, yet he noticed in this pitch-black place.

Bai Yao wasn’t used to someone holding her foot; she spoke awkwardly, “It hurts a bit. I’ll just put on a band-aid when we get back.”

“I’ll carry you,” Shen Ji replied.

“But it’s so dark here. What if you fall—”

“I won’t.” He stood up, and seemed to smile as he lowered his head and precisely found her lips, kissing her and mumbling, “My vision is excellent. I won’t let you fall.”

His hand slipped quietly around her waist. If she weren’t wearing a long dress, perhaps he would have, as when they were trapped in the library, stealthily slid his hand beneath her clothing to touch her skin.

He seemed to love feeling her skin against his, and Bai Yao didn’t mind, but she couldn’t understand how Shen Ji always became passionate toward her in such circumstances.

Bai Yao had no desire to play lovers’ games here; she conceded and climbed onto his back. Shen Ji carried her effortlessly—her weight meant nothing to him.

He proved his words true, moving steadily through the unlit corridor and down the stairs.

When they stepped out through the iron gate of the building, cold moonlight poured generously over them. In the distance, swaying tree shadows danced in the breeze and moonlight.

Bai Yao, lying on the boy’s back, saw their shadows stretch far and long, stirring her heart. She kissed his clean cheek.

Shen Ji, caught off guard, looked up, his eyes shining as he gazed at her.