After Becoming Roommates with My Flirty Ex-Girlfriend - Chapter 12

Yu Xia couldn’t bring herself to offer an explanation the entire walk back.

Xiao Qi and Xiao Jiu had debated whether to start cooking, but realized the food would be cold by the time the two returned. Since they were out of snacks anyway, they decided to restock. Little did they know they’d stumble upon such a shocking scene on their way back.

Xiao Jiu craned her neck curiously, raindrops splattering her cheek. Xiao Qi tugged her back under the umbrella. Xiao Jiu pouted, “I just took a nap, and your relationship suddenly skyrocketed?”

Xiao Qi nodded in fervent agreement. “Anyone would think you two had slept together!”

The drop-off point wasn’t far from the guesthouse entrance. Xiao Qi and Xiao Jiu bantered their way through the short walk.

With no new customers during the rainy season, the two had locked up before leaving. As they approached the door, Xiao Qi carried the snacks while Xiao Jiu fumbled for the keys, finally putting an end to their teasing.

Zheng Yun, who had remained silent the entire way, still had a blush of peach-pink on her cheeks and behind her ears. Her usually captivating peach-blossom eyes no longer held their usual allure, fixed instead on the path ahead as if she were navigating a treacherous mountain trail.

Seizing the moment when Xiao Qi and Xiao Jiu’s attention was elsewhere, Zheng Yun quietly tugged at Yu Xia’s sleeve. The two similarly colored sleeves brushed together as the owners whispered secrets.

“I didn’t mean to do that earlier,” Zheng Yun murmured, her voice unusually subdued, almost like a lover’s whisper rather than an apology. “I didn’t mean to take advantage of you…”

As Zheng Yun recalled the earlier incident, the heat that had just receded surged back, burning her earlobes.

“It was an accident,” Yu Xia replied calmly.

She didn’t understand why Zheng Yun felt the need to apologize so earnestly. After all, they had shared far more intimate moments that afternoon. Yu Xia could still feel the lingering warmth on her fingertips and the memory of their skin contracting at the touch.

She didn’t consider her relationship with Zheng Yun particularly close, but a casual, non-romantic embrace hardly warranted an explanation.

“What are you two whispering about?” Xiao Qi called out, turning her head. “Stop standing there like dummies and come inside!”

“They’re sharing secrets,” Xiao Jiu said, tossing a bag of snacks onto the front desk counter and stretching lazily. “Remember when we first got together? We couldn’t stop talking either!”

“How could it be the same?” Xiao Qi turned on all the lights, the bright incandescent bulbs banishing the rainy day’s chill.

“What’s the difference?” Xiao Jiu called out from the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as she walked in. “The only difference is you chased me for a year, while Zheng Yun only needed three days?”

Xiao Qi emerged from the room, still holding a hairdryer. Hearing this, she awkwardly turned back to meet the eyes of Yu Xia and Zheng Yun, who were still standing by the door. The silence between them was sharper than any words.

“…You should go,” Zheng Yun said first.

“Okay.” Xiao Qi walked into the kitchen with the hairdryer to dry Xiao Jiu’s damp hair.

Just before reaching the kitchen, she suddenly turned back, hesitated, and after a moment of deliberation, declared, “Actually, it wasn’t quite a year. To be precise, it was 359 days.”

Yu Xia stared blankly.

What difference does that even make?

After Xiao Qi entered the kitchen, only Yu Xia and Zheng Yun remained in the room, along with two open umbrellas left outside. Condensation dripped steadily from the umbrella canopies, forming a small puddle by the door that resembled a miniature lake.

Yu Xia didn’t know what she should do in this awkward moment.

The sound of a hairdryer drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the laughter of two voices, making the silence outside the kitchen seem even more profound. Raindrops splattered against the leaves, shattering into smaller droplets that cascaded from the green canopy.

It was an ordinary summer rain.

“I’ll explain everything to them,” Zheng Yun said, tugging at Yu Xia’s sleeve, her expression earnest. “I won’t let them continue misunderstanding our relationship.”

Yu Xia hummed in acknowledgment.

“Don’t be upset because of this,” she sighed softly. “And don’t start disliking me over something like this.”

“I’m not,” Yu Xia retorted, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

She wasn’t sure why she was annoyed. She and Zheng Yun genuinely had no romantic connection, so clarifying the situation was the right thing to do. Yet, when Xiao Qi and Xiao Jiu had teased them earlier, she hadn’t refuted their teasing.

“You’re not upset?” Zheng Yun paused, surprised. “Or you don’t dislike me?”

“Neither,” Yu Xia replied, turning to look at her.

The rain was falling so heavily that Yu Xia’s eyes glistened, like spring rain tinged with cold—continuous, bone-chillingly cold, yet carrying the faint promise of warmth to come.

Zheng Yun stared at her for a moment, then suddenly smiled brightly.

“That’s good. If you ever started disliking me because of this,” Zheng Yun said, her gaze locking onto Yu Xia’s eyes, “I would be heartbroken.”

Yu Xia was deeply puzzled.

Ever since meeting Zheng Yun, she felt like she had even more questions than when she was studying for her high school exams. Back then, if she couldn’t solve a problem, she could review it a few times and eventually grasp the underlying principles. But against Zheng Yun’s seemingly erratic yet perfectly aimed shots, she found herself utterly defenseless.

The dishes had been prepared in advance. Xiao Qi opened the kitchen door, and Yu Xia and Zheng Yun went inside to carry out the plates and rice, waiting for the meal to begin.

Eat in silence, sleep in silence. No one spoke at the table. Xiao Jiu, truly ravenous, devoured her food like a whirlwind, leaving nothing behind. By the time she finally finished, the other three had nearly finished as well.

“Let’s watch a horror movie later,” Xiao Jiu suggested. “It’ll be a great way to bond.”

“Aren’t you the one who’s most terrified of horror movies?” Xiao Qi asked, puzzled. “What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

“To bond, of course!” Xiao Jiu declared, her tone righteous. “Don’t you think our relationship has been lacking lately?”

“…I haven’t noticed,” Xiao Qi replied, speechless as she began clearing the table.

Xiao Jiu turned to Yu Xia and Zheng Yun. “What about you two? Do you think your relationship needs some bonding time?”

Zheng Yun also turned, his gaze fixed on Yu Xia, as if awaiting her answer.

Yu Xia remained silent.

What kind of relationship did she and Zheng Yun need to improve? Even for a platonic hug, Zheng Yun had to clarify it was an accident.

“I think,” Yu Xia said after a moment’s thought, “we can watch it.”

Zheng Yun thoughtfully translated, “By ‘we can watch it,’ she means watching a movie together would help strengthen the bond between the four of us.”

The motion passed unanimously. Xiao Jiu perked up. “Then I’ll go check my movie collection. You guys go change first. I’ll call you down later. We need to mop the floor after going out today.”

When they came downstairs, the living room had been cleaned up, but the lights were still on. The image projected on the wall wasn’t very clear, but they could vaguely make out the movie title—apparently one of the most critically acclaimed horror films from recent years.

Xiao Qi grabbed some snacks, planning to munch while watching. Xiao Jiu, clutching a blanket, had already curled up in a corner of the sofa, clearly frightened before the movie even started.

To ward off the chill, two blankets were laid out on the sofa, each clearly designated for two people. Xiao Qi and Xiao Jiu naturally shared one, leaving the other blanket unspoken for.

Yu Xia’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, a hint of regret creeping in for agreeing to this.

Zheng Yun had just come downstairs. She had showered and changed into a long nightgown that reached her ankles, the ends of her hair still damp. As she walked, the hem of her gown brushed against her sharply defined ankles. Watching her descend the stairs, Yu Xia suddenly recalled the image of Zheng Yun’s long, straight legs beneath the red dress in the fitting room earlier that afternoon.

“Already scared before it’s even started?” Zheng Yun teased, her turn to tease. “Maybe we should switch to something less scary?”

“I’m not scared!” Xiao Jiu adjusted her posture, trying to look more intimidating. “You’re the one who’ll be jumping into Yu Xia’s arms later.”

“We’re not like that,” Zheng Yun said calmly, sitting down next to Yu Xia, her tone as serious as if she were giving a press conference. “This afternoon was an accident. We’re just ordinary friends.”

“That sounds familiar,” Xiao Qi said, bringing over a few bottles of water and setting them on the table before snuggling close to Xiao Jiu. “Has someone said that before?”

“I forgot,” Xiao Jiu snapped, burrowing deeper under the covers, leaving only her nose exposed for breathing.

“I remember,” Xiao Qi said innocently, looking at Yu Xia. “Back then, Xiao Jiu and I did everything we should and shouldn’t have. When I asked for a commitment, she said we were just friends.”

“I didn’t know if you liked me or just wanted to sleep with me!” Xiao Jiu retorted, fierce as a little lioness. “Stop talking about it! Let’s watch the movie.”

Xiao Qi got up to turn off the lights, and Xiao Jiu pressed play.

The room plunged into darkness. The horror movie’s filter cast a dim, barely visible glow that illuminated only half a meter around them. Yu Xia tilted her head slightly, her peripheral vision barely able to make out Zheng Yun’s smooth jawline.

The film’s opening scene was thick with tension. Xiao Jiu, who had initially suggested watching the horror movie, had already buried herself in Xiao Qi’s arms, her round eyes peeking out as she occasionally covered them.

The other three remained remarkably calm, especially Yu Xia, whose mind seemed to be elsewhere. Her expression was so blank she might as well have been listening to the six o’clock morning news.

During the protagonists’ exploration, a female ghost suddenly leaped out, startling Xiao Jiu into a yelp. She burrowed into Xiao Qi’s arms, even startling Xiao Qi herself, who comforted the frightened girl while simultaneously retreating under the blanket.

Zheng Yun also flinched, though she remained silent.

Yu Xia felt the person to her right tremble. Almost instinctively, she turned her head and saw Zheng Yun staring at her for three seconds before pulling the blanket over her back, hugging her knees, and turning to look at her.

“Aren’t you scared?” Zheng Yun leaned closer, her face just a few centimeters from Yu Xia’s, and whispered.

Yu Xia hadn’t even been watching the screen. She pieced together from the others’ reactions that something terrifying must have just happened.

She shook her head. “Not at all.”

Zheng Yun nodded. The blanket slipped down, and a cold draft snaked down her neck, making her shiver. She quickly pulled the blanket back over her head and resumed watching intently.

With large bulges on both sides of her, Yu Xia sat alone in the middle, appearing isolated from the rest of the world.

Having always acted independently since childhood, Yu Xia was quite bold and didn’t find the situation particularly unsettling. After the earlier incident, she refocused her attention on the movie.

The director was a master of suspense, using eerie background music, dark settings, and occasional flashbacks to create a terrifying atmosphere. Xiao Jiu frequently covered her eyes, then whispered to Xiao Qi, “Is there a ghost?”

Xiao Qi repeatedly answered, “Not yet.”

Xiao Jiu would lower her hand and watch again, her gaze both focused and fearful.

Zheng Yun remained much calmer, even taking the time to grab snacks from the coffee table.

As the plot reached its climax, a particularly horrifying ghost suddenly attacked the main characters, who were huddled together discussing escape plans, triggering a frantic chase scene.

Xiao Qi and Xiao Jiu screamed and clung to each other, thoroughly frightened.

Even Yu Xia flinched in shock.

It wasn’t about bravery; she was simply startled by the sudden appearance of the creature.

She glanced at Zheng Yun, who had also clearly been momentarily stunned. Noticing her gaze, Zheng Yun knowingly lifted the blanket.

“It’s a bit scary. Why don’t you come in and hide?”

Zheng Yun spoke as if the blanket were some kind of safe haven.

Yu Xia obediently pulled the blanket over her head, the comforting warmth settling over her scalp and back, shielding her from the night’s chill. Beside her, Zheng Yun’s faint citrus scent lingered.

She didn’t want to admit it, but her heart felt grounded, like a migratory bird finally landing on a familiar branch after a long flight.

Zheng Yun moved as little as possible, trying to minimize her presence, but Yu Xia couldn’t ignore her. Zheng Yun’s soft breaths, the subtle rise and fall of her back, and the faint citrus scent that clung to the air—all of it rushed into Yu Xia’s senses, making it impossible to focus on the film’s plot.

The chase scene had ended. In the protagonist group, one half of a couple sacrificed themselves to distract the pursuing ghosts. As dawn broke, the surviving partner found their lover lying in a pool of bl00d, clutching their shared memento, and wept uncontrollably.

Xiao Jiu, ever emotional, sobbed twice, grabbed Xiao Qi’s hand, and wailed through tears and snot, “Don’t die! I’ll die instead!”

Xiao Qi was speechless. She slapped Xiao Jiu’s mouth, making her cry in fits and starts, finally silencing the tantrum in exasperation.

Zheng Yun, who had been feeling quite melancholic, instantly snapped out of her mood as the two girls’ antics broke the spell.

With the sentimental scene over, the film plunged into its climax.

The four of them stilled, focusing intently on the screen.

In the silent living room, the only sounds were the rustling of blankets, the tearing of snack wrappers, and the pattering rain outside the window.

The atmosphere was so thick with tension that even Yu Xia frowned, her gaze fixed on the projection screen.

After losing a companion, the protagonist group finally steeled their resolve and decided to storm the boss’s lair, hoping to defeat him. Through deduction, they located the lair, but upon pushing open the door, they found only an altar and a statue.

The characters in the film were visibly on edge, and the four viewers on the sofa felt the same tension, dreading the moment the terrifying creature might suddenly lunge from the shadows.

After a fruitless search, the group was about to sit down to strategize when someone glanced up.

The Red-Clothed Ghost hung from the ceiling, grinning down at them with its mouth stretched wide.

The main characters in the movie: “……”

The four friends: “……”

The Red-Clothed Female Ghost descended gracefully, pressed its face against the camera lens, and magnified the terror infinitely. Screams erupted simultaneously from both inside and outside the screen. Then, with a beep, the entire world plunged into darkness.

The power had gone out.

The outage felt particularly ominous. Even Yu Xia, who was usually fearless, felt a chill run down her spine. Xiao Jiu trembled so violently that the entire sofa shook. Half a minute later, Xiao Qi’s phone screen lit up.

“It seems like the entire neighborhood’s power grid is down,” Xiao Qi said, her voice as soothing as a sedative. Xiao Jiu finally stopped shaking. “They probably won’t be able to fix it tonight.”

“Let’s get Xiao Jiu to bed first,” Zheng Yun said from the darkness.

Xiao Jiu hadn’t uttered a single word since the onslaught of terror began, clearly stunned by the relentless assault. Xiao Qi scooped her up in her arms and said apologetically, “Just head upstairs. I’ll clean up here tomorrow. Sorry about this.”

“No need to apologize,” Yu Xia replied.

Xiao Qi said nothing more, carrying the still-trembling Xiao Jiu back to her room.

In the darkness, only two figures remained.

Yu Xia hadn’t brought her phone downstairs, and Zheng Yun didn’t have one at all. In the complete darkness, the two women were like blind people.

It felt like the opening scene of a horror movie.

“Could you help me upstairs?” Zheng Yun asked softly. “I have night blindness and can’t see well in the dark.”

“Sure,” Yu Xia replied, deciding to do a good deed.

She was about to ask how to help when a warm hand pressed into her palm.

Groping in the dark, Zheng Yun initially struggled to find Yu Xia’s hand, bumping into her arm several times before finally making contact.

Unlike their earlier hand-holding, which had been merely to pull Zheng Yun ashore, this was a genuine, deliberate connection—a simple clasp without any force.

Yu Xia took Zheng Yun’s hand, and the two women moved slowly, following the emergency exit signs upstairs. Step by step, they ascended at a snail’s pace. After climbing a few flights, with dozens of steps still ahead, Yu Xia’s patience, accumulated over a decade, seemed to have been saved for this very moment.

A journey that would normally take a minute or two stretched into ten.

They continued until they reached the third floor. Yu Xia released Zheng Yun’s hand at her room’s doorway.

Zheng Yun didn’t let go.

The darkness was so profound that they could only perceive the world through touch and smell. Yu Xia couldn’t see Zheng Yun’s face, but from the way Zheng Yun clung to her hand, she sensed a deeper meaning in the gesture.

“We didn’t finish the movie,” Zheng Yun said.

Perhaps it was the thick darkness of the night, or perhaps it was the slight exertion of climbing the stairs, but her tone carried an indescribable ambiguity. Upon closer listening, however, it was impossible to pinpoint.

“Mm,” Yu Xia replied, instantly recalling the sudden, looming close-up that had startled her earlier. The memory left her speechless.

“Are you going to finish it later?” Zheng Yun pressed.

“Yes,” Yu Xia answered without hesitation. How could she possibly sleep without seeing the ending?

“Can I watch with you?” Zheng Yun asked. “If you’re a germaphobe, we can watch in my room. I don’t have…”

“I’m not a germaphobe,” Yu Xia interrupted.

Yu Xia had a strong sense of personal boundaries. She disliked intruding on others’ private spaces but was willing to let people into her own personal space within her tolerance limits. That was why she preferred not to go to Zheng Yun’s room.

“Is that okay?” Zheng Yun still held onto her hand.

Their clasped hands finally reached the same temperature. Zheng Yun’s fingers, resting obediently in Yu Xia’s palm, remained perfectly still, yet their presence was impossible to ignore.

“Okay,” Yu Xia replied, not seeing any problem with the suggestion.

Or perhaps she had simply forgotten what her attitude toward others had been before coming to Yuncheng.

Yu Xia led Zheng Yun back to her room, turned on her phone’s flashlight, and the bright white beam instantly illuminated the entire space. Her eyes, still adjusting to the darkness, couldn’t immediately adapt to the sudden glare. Yu Xia blinked repeatedly to ease the stinging sensation.

Activating her phone’s hotspot, Yu Xia connected her laptop and searched for the film they had been watching earlier. As she dragged the progress bar, she caught Zheng Yun wiping away tears from the corner of her eye.

“?” Yu Xia’s movements froze in confusion.

“My eyes just hurt,” Zheng Yun said, the corners of her eyes still red, long lashes glistening with unshed tears. She herself found the situation both laughable and embarrassing. “It’s better now.”

Dazed, Yu Xia grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and handed it to her, then randomly switched off the phone’s flashlight.

The room returned to darkness, lit only by the faint glow of the laptop screen.

The laptop screen was far smaller than the projection screen downstairs, and they couldn’t sit cross-legged on the bed as they had before. Instead, they had to lean against the headboard together to watch, their bodies pressed even closer than they had been under the same blanket earlier.

The person beside her stared intently at the screen, lips pressed tightly together. Her glistening peach-blossom eyes, framed by damp lashes, radiated an inexplicable stubbornness in the cold, rainy night, like a peach tree that had weathered countless storms, its vibrant blossoms blooming defiantly towards the sun.

“Almost there,” Zheng Yun said softly, gently nudging her. She tilted her head to look up at Yu Xia. “Right where the power went out earlier.”

Yu Xia was grateful she had quickly suppressed her reaction, leaving no trace of her emotions for anyone to detect.

After the Red-Clothed Female Ghost descended from the ceiling, the protagonist’s group suffered immediate casualties, triggering a fierce chase. The boss proved far superior to her minions, dispatching them with ruthless efficiency. The protagonist fought desperately to lure the ghost away, narrowly escaping capture several times.

By this point, Yu Xia had a good idea of what would happen next. Zheng Yun, however, remained tense, her fingers twisting nervously as she watched with unwavering focus.

As dawn broke, the Red-Clothed Female Ghost was pierced by sunlight, collapsing into dust. The protagonist, barely alive, lay nearby, her eyes fluttering shut when she suddenly heard voices.

“I heard there’s a lot of treasure here. If we dig up even one piece, we’ll be rich!”

The protagonist’s breath was shallow. Remembering her own group’s shared purpose and the seal they had inadvertently broken, she desperately tried to rise and stop them, but her strength had completely deserted her. As she heard the group’s footsteps fade into the distance, she could only think:

It’s over.

The film ended abruptly there.

Zheng Yun whipped her head around to stare at Yu Xia, her face incredulous. “Now even horror movies can’t give us a decent ending?”

Yu Xia pondered for a moment. “Maybe they’re planning a sequel?”

Zheng Yun reluctantly accepted this explanation, nodding. She was about to get out of bed when something else occurred to her. “Can I sleep here tonight?” she asked.

The request was pushing the boundaries, bordering on harassment.

Zheng Yun knew her request was excessive. After a pause, she added softly, “I’ll bring my own blanket. I’m just… a little scared.”

Normally, after watching a horror movie, she would simply turn on the lights and go to sleep. But tonight, the power was out, and her phone was nowhere to be found. Yu Xia had become her only source of comfort.

She even felt a strange sense of relief that it was Yu Xia, and not someone else.

Yu Xia considered mentioning the emergency LED light in her suitcase, which could last all night with a power bank. But the words caught in her throat. Instead, she simply murmured, “Mm-hmm.”

“I’ll go with you to get the blanket,” Yu Xia said, still mindful of Zheng Yun’s night blindness.

With the blanket in hand, Zheng Yun finally felt at ease.

She rarely found herself in such a vulnerable position, forced to ask for help. But the thought of facing the endless darkness alone had compelled her to speak up. Before she even opened her mouth, she had braced herself for rejection.

Yet Yu Xia had agreed.

In the deep night, even lying side by side on the same bed, Zheng Yun couldn’t make out Yu Xia’s profile. To her, the world was a sea of black, and she relied on memory to reconstruct Yu Xia’s features in her mind.

“Yu Xia,” she whispered.

“Hmm?” Yu Xia replied.

“I’m still scared,” Zheng Yun said, her tone teasing. “Can we hold hands?”

Just as Zheng Yun thought Yu Xia had fallen asleep, the blanket beside her rustled, and a hand—one they had held several times that day—settled beside her.

In fairy tales, when a prince invites a princess to dance, he bows gallantly, extends his hand, and asks gently, “Dear princess, may I have the honor of inviting you to dance?”

But this hand, reaching out between their blankets, spoke more eloquently than any prince’s words.

Guided by the warmth, Zheng Yun gently, slowly, and without hesitation, curled her fingers around that hand.