Broken Melody

Wen Yuzhi slowly turned around.

A small rose-colored candle had been fixed to one corner of the violin.

The violin itself looked unique, nothing like the ones Qin Huairen had seen online.

And Wen Yuzhi looked different too.

Qin Huairen had always known she was beautiful, intelligent, perfectly composed.

But she had never known Wen Yuzhi could play the violin.

Nor had she imagined that when she did, she would look so impossibly gentle and elegant.

The sound flowed like silk, smooth and enveloping.

Qin Huairen knew nothing about music, could not name the piece, but it was so beautiful that she felt herself sink into it completely.

Perhaps it was the candlelight.

In that warm glow, Wen Yuzhi’s features seemed softened with tenderness.

Her obsidian-dark eyes looked at her as if brimming with spring water.

Those eyes were bright and deep, as though trying to say something.

Qin Huairen could not quite read it.

She stumbled closer, curiosity blooming like shoots after rain.

She wanted to see clearly.

The bow slid across the strings.

The melody wrapped around Wen Yuzhi, and as Qin Huairen approached, she felt the music pour into her heart.

Her heart softened.

“Wen Yuzhi!”

Xu Jianing’s sudden, hysterical scream shattered the moment.

She swung the bouquet violently and rushed forward.

Without thinking, Qin Huairen turned, shielding Wen Yuzhi with her arm.

But in the next second, an arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

Wen Yuzhi pulled her close, spinning half a turn.

Her breath was filled with the familiar woody scent she loved.

The candle went out.

In the darkness, the bouquet struck Wen Yuzhi’s back.

Something snagged Qin Huairen’s hair, and she gasped in pain.

Xu Jianing screamed again, swinging the flowers wildly.

Wen Yuzhi held Qin Huairen firmly in her arms, shielding her completely.

The violin fell with a loud clang.

Xu Jianing kicked it away, something else crashing loudly.

When she swung a third time toward Wen Yuzhi’s head, Wen Yuzhi half-pushed, half-carried Qin Huairen into the corner.

“Don’t move,” she whispered.

Before Qin Huairen could react, Xu Jianing’s wrist was twisted and pinned against the table.

Her curses were vicious and unfamiliar.

Qin Huairen had never heard her speak like that.

Never heard her cry so painfully.

She rushed forward and grabbed Wen Yuzhi.

“Let go! Let her go!”

Xu Jianing kept screaming.

Wen Yuzhi did not release her.

In desperation, Qin Huairen grabbed Wen Yuzhi’s wrist and bit down hard.

Wen Yuzhi hissed and let go.

Xu Jianing slid downward.

Qin Huairen caught her, holding her trembling body.

“Don’t cry. Where does it hurt?”

Xu Jianing sobbed in her arms.

Qin Huairen snapped out of her haze and glared at Wen Yuzhi.

“What’s wrong with you?!”

“Your face…”

Wen Yuzhi frowned and reached out.

Qin Huairen turned away sharply.

Still, Wen Yuzhi’s fingers brushed her cheek.

Annoyed, she swatted the hand away.

But Wen Yuzhi caught her wrist, her other hand steadying Qin Huairen’s chin.

“Don’t move.”

The gauze around her palm felt rough against her skin.

It hurt slightly.

Qin Huairen’s temper flared again.

She pushed Xu Jianing into a chair and began pounding her fists against Wen Yuzhi’s chest.

Wen Yuzhi did not dodge.

Did not fight back.

Did not make a sound.

It was like hitting cotton.

Her anger only grew.

But her strength, buoyed by alcohol, faded quickly.

When she finally looked up, she saw blood on Wen Yuzhi’s face.

Even in the dim room, light from outside filtered in.

Enough to see clearly.

A cut was bleeding.

Qin Huairen’s breathing grew uneven.

Wen Yuzhi wrapped an arm around her, holding her steady.

She guided Qin Huairen’s trembling hand to her own cheek.

“Here hurts the most,” she said evenly. “And it’s the most humiliating.”

Qin Huairen felt warmth.

Felt wetness.

She looked at the blood staining her fingers.

Something in her chest pricked painfully.

A feeling both unfamiliar and deeply familiar.

One she would remember long after.

Wen Yuzhi pulled a tissue and leaned closer.

Instinctively, Qin Huairen retreated.

A hand slid behind her neck, steadying her.

“Don’t move.”

The tissue wiped gently at her cheek.

Only then did she notice her own sting of pain.

“Your face is scratched,” Wen Yuzhi murmured.

Qin Huairen wanted to say yours is too.

But her throat tightened.

No words came.

Their breaths mingled at close range.

The woody scent filled her lungs.

For a fleeting moment, it felt as if the years apart had never happened.

As if nothing had changed.

She had told no one.

But in her heart, she had known that when they reunited in the restroom, her feelings had flared again—shockingly strong.

A sudden sharp sting snapped her back.

Wen Yuzhi leaned closer, blowing softly at the wound.

A current ran through her body.

Her limbs tingled.

Heat surged everywhere.

Wen Yuzhi’s lips, faintly parted, looked ripe in the hazy light.

For a strange second, Qin Huairen felt thirsty.

As if she wanted to bite into a dark, glossy cherry.

It was just a fleeting thought.

But when Wen Yuzhi leaned in again, Qin Huairen swallowed hard.

Their lips brushed her cheek—light as a dragonfly touching water.

She sprang back as if shocked.

“Don’t touch me!”

Did it happen?

Or did it not?

Her mind was chaotic.

It must be the alcohol, she decided.

Alcohol. Darkness. Flickering light.

She hurried to switch the lights on.

Everything was exposed.

Xu Jianing sat red-eyed.

Wen Yuzhi’s face bore the faint imprint of fingers, streaked with drying blood.

Qin Huairen’s own hand was stained red.

Like a crime scene.

Petals lay scattered across the floor.

Xu Jianing wiped her tears and stood up weakly.

Without another word, she gathered her things and walked out.

Qin Huairen bent to pick something up but was pulled back.

Wen Yuzhi retrieved the fallen violin.

Qin Huairen broke free and chased after Xu Jianing.

Wen Yuzhi wiped the blood roughly from her face.

Her bitten wrist throbbed.

She frowned and followed outside.

Before she could reach the door, she saw them on the street.

Holding each other.