Butterflies Fly Over Winter Chapter 11
byChapter 11: A Single Spark
Chu Yiqi could tell that Xi Ai was spacing out. She reflected on her own performance and felt she still hadn’t found a natural rhythm for their business interaction; it felt a bit… “extremely” forced.
Over the past two years, besides the change in her personality, Chu Yiqi had developed one very important skill—she had become exceptionally good at distracting herself.
For instance, when Xi Ai snapped out of it, blamed Sister Luo, and reached into the box to draw a punishment, Chu Yiqi’s attention was elsewhere. The surrounding noise felt distant as she began to hear a different sound.
It was a voice she was actually quite familiar with, one that had frequently appeared long ago, before she left.
It didn’t come from anywhere else; it came from within Chu Yiqi’s own mind.
One voice whispered gloomily, “You haven’t even resolved your own issues, so why drag such a wonderful person into this?”
It said, “You should just leave. Stay away from her!”
Another voice was slightly brighter, but much weaker: “She won’t be affected by me…”
The sounds in her ears were muddled, and Chu Yiqi suddenly felt a wave of dizziness. Just as she began to wonder if she was having a genuine relapse, she suddenly heard Xi Ai speak: “Who wrote this? Stand up and accept your praise.”
Chu Yiqi blinked and suddenly returned to her senses. Only then did she realize that the internal struggle she had just heard was a memory from a very long time ago.
Chu Yiqi leaned over to look at the slip of paper Xi Ai had drawn: Voice act a clip from a cartoon; the clip will be randomly selected by the live comments.
“You’re praising it before we’ve even drawn the clip?” Meng Yike said with a smile.
Chu Yiqi spoke up quietly, “I wrote it.”
Xi Ai: “…”
Meng Yike: “…”
Xi Ai was silent for a moment before saying, “Then… let’s go with this one, Mei Yangyang.”
“Fine, fine, fine.”
Xi Ai’s eyes flickered as she said, “It wouldn’t be too much to ask for a partner, would it?”
Nie Chuiying was delighted to see Xi Ai tormenting others—specifically Chu Yiqi—so she immediately agreed: “Not at all!”
Unsurprisingly, Xi Ai slowly shifted her gaze toward Chu Yiqi. “Teacher Chu, would you do me the honor?”
Chu Yiqi had expected this, yet she still couldn’t help but press her lips into a thin line. She stared at Xi Ai and finally said, “I feel a sense of powerlessness, having to carry out a punishment I wrote myself.”
[I knew it Hahaha it’s Qiqi again]
[What’s with Qiqi’s ‘I expected this’ face? Xi Ai, you need to reflect on yourself]
[Xi Ai: So what?]
[Qiqi: Suspected of losing all strength and means…]
Regardless, Chu Yiqi ended up completing a thirty-second clip with Xi Ai.
Throughout the entire process, both of them stared at the screen without any eye contact.
Chu Yiqi was busy staring at her next lines, while Xi Ai simply wanted to laugh whenever she looked at Chu Yiqi—perhaps it was the theatricality of seeing a star student dragged into trouble, or seeing an old acquaintance in a flustered state.
After fooling around for a while, the morning live stream ended. The group looked at each other. Shi Yunshan and Nie Chuiying seemed to share a telepathic connection; almost simultaneously, they stared at each other and said, “How about… we go back for a nap?”
These words struck a chord with everyone and received unanimous approval. Meng Yike said, “Alright then. Sister Luo just told me she won’t be back for another half hour.”
Xi Ai walked upstairs leisurely. The medicine bottle on her bedside table was quite conspicuous. Xi Ai closed the door and leaned against the wardrobe, staring at it for a long time before finally letting out a silent laugh.
It was hard to say if she was laughing at a certain someone who was stubborn to a fault, or if she was just genuinely happy.
After applying some medicine, Xi Ai sat on the bay window seat among a pile of plush toys and refreshed her Weibo feed.
She saw a very familiar clip—it was from a variety show.
Actually, she couldn’t remember the name, but it was the show where For 8 made their debut.
It had already been four or five years.
Sometimes Xi Ai was grateful she chose to be an actress; at the very least, she had developed a habit she never had during her student days—the ability to fall asleep quickly anywhere possible.
Xi Ai didn’t even have time to turn off her phone.
The clip playing on the screen was the first time Xi Ai and Chu Yiqi met.
After the first round of auditions, only forty people remained to sit at the orientation meeting.
Normally, the first meeting should involve self-introductions, but these introductions… were the videos they had submitted when they first signed up.
Of course, there was a blank space between every two clips.
When the video cover changed to Xi Ai, a pair of sisters in the corner who looked almost identical began whispering.
“No way, how can someone come with their own Alpha filter? Look!”
The person next to her followed her gaze “secretly” and went looking for the person in question. As luck would have it, she caught Xi Ai looking right back at them.
Compared to the sisters who averted their eyes after being caught, Xi Ai was quite natural. She curled her lips into a smile and gave a small, subtle wave.
Zhou Qingxi and Zhou Yangxi both froze for a second before smiling and making heart gestures in response.
But Zhou Yangxi was still muttering, “When she greeted me, I felt like I was looking at a professor or a boss, you know?”
Zhou Qingxi: “…”
Unlucky kid, you’re really soaked in Omega vibes.
After a pause, Zhou Qingxi said, “I remember now! She was the Best Newcomer at that film festival last year!”
“Ah, I know! The scene where she raises her wine glass really killed me!”
The actual “boss-in-waiting” Xi Ai said nothing, merely turning to strike up a conversation with the person next to her.
Looking back now, it was quite a coincidence—the person next to her was Shi Yunshan.
At one end of the room, the video began to play.
Xi Ai leisurely appreciated her own self-introduction, which looked like it could have been the start of a speech if she just moved the microphone to a different location. However, she had always found it awkward to watch her own performance videos or old movies with strangers—yet she watched it through with perfect composure.
The clip she had selected was one that had gone viral online when the movie first came out—a young, glamorous woman amidst flickering lights, slowly raising her eyes. Her undisguised ambition and pressure mixed with a seemingly contemptuous gaze looked straight into the depths of everyone’s eyes.
A moment later, the woman wore a smile that wasn’t entirely kind. Like someone at the top of the pyramid, she looked down at the world, at the ants, at a… dying person, or perhaps at herself, with an air of arrogance, experience, and unspeakable secrets. She slowly picked up the ice wine nearby, gave a frivolous and provocative toast, and slowly brought it to her lips…
When the video finished, Xi Ai stood up to show her face and said, “Hello everyone—I guess… I hope we can become friends rather than employers and employees?”
After watching the feature-heavy video, the people at the table had a good idea of what Miss Xi was like, so they laughed naturally. Someone across from her even asked, “If we become friends and then you become the employer, would you give your friends inside help?”
Amidst the joking, there was only one person opposite her who remained seated upright, her expression indifferent, appearing like a coldness put on out of restraint.
That was Chu Yiqi.
Xi Ai didn’t notice her, only smiling faintly as she said, “That won’t do. I haven’t even spent my own money on myself yet.”
Xi Ai had actually put some thought into saying this. It was as if she foresaw that people might make an issue of her background, so she was indirectly clarifying that she hadn’t come through the back door with her own funding.
In fact, after she said this, Chu Yiqi’s gaze softened slightly, though she still looked at Xi Ai with a hint of hostility.
Perhaps their personalities and temperaments just didn’t mesh. Chu Yiqi silently explained her attitude to herself.
But that clip…
Even if she subjectively disliked the person, the tension and precision of that moment were impeccable.
Chu Yiqi looked across the table—
Xi Ai was resting her chin on her hand as if listening to an end-of-year report, looking at the large screen. Then, she casually scanned the room and spotted the subject of the next video.
The next person was Chu Yiqi.
It was undeniable that Chu Yiqi’s professional caliber was exceptional just from the video clips—Xi Ai actually quite liked her creative style.
Chu Yiqi’s personal style and preferences were also very clear—she focused on ancient-style songs, narrative culture, and chronicling the years.
In her view, this was one of the purposes of music.
The music Chu Yiqi included in the video was an assignment from her university days. It was a different style, but the lyrics and the video editing were a perfect match.
“Strings of butterflies are the entirety of spring.”
As the line finished, a string of butterflies flashed by, and the video cut to classical dance practice in a studio, then to a stage performance.
Water sleeves rose and fell, like a grand feast in a time of peace.
Raising a glass to an invitation, heading toward a dead end where flowers bloom but there is no return.
“After a single flap of wings, years of whistling wind and rain.”
“Is it after all
The blooming fireworks, or
Tens of millions of butterfly wings?
A single spark sets the prairie ablaze.”
The screen was once again stirred by shimmering butterflies. The following footage was from a domestic competition, showing the performance of the silver medalist—Chu Yiqi.
The cello faded, butterflies rose, turning into words that formed the final lyrics.
“It is you, and it is also me, ten thousand years of unceasing mountain rain…
A thousand years of butterfly wings flapping…”
…
“Good afternoon.” Chu Yiqi stood up slowly, said just those two sentences, and sat back down.
Xi Ai clapped a few times—purely out of appreciation for professional skill. This applause led to a round of clapping from everyone, just as it had for everyone else’s introduction.
After a moment, Xi Ai moved her gaze to a spot slightly further across the table, looking at Chu Yiqi, who sat obediently without saying a word or interacting with anyone.
Perhaps it was because Xi Ai had dealt with all sorts of circles since childhood and had seen too many people, or perhaps because her drama major required her to observe people’s personalities and subtle behaviors. In that moment, when Xi Ai looked at Chu Yiqi, what she saw was Chu Yiqi’s hidden anxiety—the way she retreated into her shell, afraid to interact with the outside world.
To be honest, Xi Ai didn’t like that kind of aura.
Especially Chu Yiqi’s opening, when she said, “I am the ‘Yiqi’ from ‘Autumn as the Promised Date’.” Perhaps Xi Ai hadn’t even noticed it herself, but for a brief moment, she had frowned.
Just as she pulled her thoughts back, Xi Ai’s eyes met Chu Yiqi’s.
Aside from Chu Yiqi’s initial discomfort, instinctive avoidance, and slight unease when facing Xi Ai’s gaze, Xi Ai clearly saw that the way Chu Yiqi looked at her was different from how she looked at others—it was filled with rejection.
Xi Ai frowned, not bothering to hide the blatant aloofness in her eyes as she stared back without blinking.
Perhaps this was their first direct confrontation. It wasn’t exactly a friendly first meeting, and it seemed to foreshadow the friction that would define their relationship for a long time to come.
When the orientation ended, everyone slowly headed back to the dorms.
The dorm assignments followed the order of the videos from the meeting, so unsurprisingly, Xi Ai and Chu Yiqi were in the same room. The other two were Zhou Qingxi and Zhou Yangxi.
“Sister, does this feel like a dream back to university?”
Zhou Qingxi looked at her, pushed both of their suitcases forward a bit, and said, “It does. It’s exactly the same, isn’t it? A four-person dorm with lofts.”
Xi Ai didn’t join the conversation—truthfully, Miss Xi couldn’t relate.
Xi Ai had applied to a foreign university early on and had mostly lived on her own.
She glanced at Chu Yiqi next to her, who was slowly unpacking her things.
Fortunately, the two sisters weren’t the type to let their roommates feel awkward. Zhou Yangxi pulled out a bag of chocolate balls and asked Chu Yiqi, “Chu Yiqi, do you want one?”
Chu Yiqi was clearly startled for a moment, then took one and said softly, “Thank you.”
“Ahhh, I absolutely love your voice!”
Chu Yiqi pursed her lips and smiled but didn’t take the bait. Xi Ai, on the other hand, watched silently before asking, “What about me?”
Zhou Yangxi felt a momentary pang of guilty embarrassment and said, “You two just aren’t the same type, but I like your vibe…”
“Describe it specifically. A hundred-word summary, start now.”
Even though Xi Ai was smiling, and her smile was very deceptive, Zhou Yangxi couldn’t help but feel a head shorter than her.