After Becoming Roommates with My Flirty Ex-Girlfriend - Chapter 15

When the two returned home, Xiao Qi and Xiao Jiu were already there. Xiao Jiu lay miserably on the sofa, a white cooling patch stuck to her forehead, her eyes half-closed. Hearing the commotion, she weakly asked, “Oh, the lovebirds are back?”

Before she could get a response, she erupted into a violent coughing fit, startling Xiao Qi, who rushed out of the kitchen with a glass of water and began patting her back.

Yu Xia and Zheng Yun had stopped holding hands by the time they entered. Yu Xia needed to put down the umbrella, naturally releasing their intertwined fingers.

“What’s wrong?” Zheng Yun asked anxiously.

No one was in the mood to correct Xiao Jiu’s “lovebirds” remark; everyone crowded around Xiao Jiu.

“She probably caught a cold from the cold,” Xiao Qi said helplessly. “She kicked off the blanket in her sleep.”

Xiao Jiu, feverish and delirious, lay wrapped in a bedspread, still defiant as she tried to sit up. “Then why didn’t you catch a cold?!”

As she moved, the blanket slid down. Xiao Qi firmly pressed her back down, tucking the blanket around her before replying, “I exercise. You don’t.”

Perhaps delirious from the fever, Xiao Jiu blurted out without thinking, “But I put in effort when you were exercising too!”

The three of them fell into stunned silence.

After about ten seconds, Xiao Jiu finally realized what she’d said. Her already flushed face turned even redder, her nose practically steaming. She tried to kick her legs, but Xiao Qi, clearly well-versed in her girlfriend’s habits, swiftly pinned her down.

“…Stop crowding me,” Xiao Qi said, covering her face with an arm from under the blanket. “This isn’t a hospital room.”

Five minutes later, Xiao Qi was moved back to her own room, leaving three silent figures on the sofa.

After a long pause, Xiao Qi finally composed herself and asked, “Are you two really dating?”

This kind of question usually fell to Zheng Yun to answer, but today Yu Xia refused to remain passive.

“No, it’s all a misunderstanding,” she denied.

Xiao Qi’s gaze turned to her with surprise, then shifted to Zheng Yun. Zheng Yun’s eyes held a hint of amusement as she elaborated on Yu Xia’s explanation, recounting what had happened after the power outage the previous night.

Of course, she omitted the part about holding hands.

“I thought you two were moving fast,” Xiao Qi yawned.

She had taken Xiao Jiu out early this morning, and after a day of running around the hospital, she must be exhausted.

“I’ll probably be faster than you,” Zheng Yun said with a smile.

Xiao Qi stared at her for half a minute, but Zheng Yun refused to back down. After another half-minute of their silent standoff, Xiao Qi finally conceded.

“I’m going to take a nap. A few guests are checking in later and will probably stay for two nights,” Xiao Qi said, rubbing her eyes as she stood up. She grabbed the medicine from the coffee table and headed to her room.

The plastic bag was bulging, seemingly filled with medication.

“Do you really need that much medicine for a cold?” Yu Xia asked softly, glancing at the bag.

“Maybe she bought some health supplements too,” Zheng Yun replied.

As their eyes met, they both remembered Xiao Jiu’s blunt words from earlier.

“I’m going back to my room now,” Yu Xia said, turning to leave.

“Me too,” Zheng Yun said, suppressing a laugh as she followed her.

The first thing Yu Xia did upon returning to her room was wash her face to calm down. Then she pulled out her phone to check her messages.

Since starting university, she had been earning extra money by taking on art commissions. Her quick turnaround time, consistent quality, and high number of repeat clients meant she had a long waiting list, though she only accepted commissions when she felt like it.

After handling the messages on her social media apps asking when she’d open commissions, Yu Xia opened WeChat, curious about what Chen Zhu had sent her today.

Yu Xia’s WeChat contacts consisted solely of real-life friends, and apart from necessary matters, Chen Zhu was the only one who messaged her regularly.

Chen Zhu had become Yu Xia’s best friend in just a year, and her secret was simple: boundless enthusiasm. She didn’t care whether Yu Xia replied or not; whenever she felt like sharing something, she’d open the chat and send it. During school, she’d share gossip and restaurant reviews; during vacations, she’d share stories about her eccentric relatives and unlucky cousins.

Today, however, there was an extra red dot on a new chat.

ZY: Crying Cat Meme.jpg

ZY: Your profile picture is so cute.

Yu Xia stared at her profile picture, for the first time doubting Zheng Yun’s taste.

Who would find a triangle on a white background “cute”? Even if someone thought it looked good, it wouldn’t be cute, right?

She checked the timestamp; the message had been sent while she was still in the taxi.

Yu Xia tapped the reply box, but after staring at it for ages, she couldn’t figure out how to respond. She switched to Chen Zhu’s messages instead.

Chen Zhu had sent dozens of messages, mostly to herself. The first few were complaints about her unlucky nephew, who had climbed onto a stool to reach for candy, only to slip and fall on his butt, wailing loudly. Chen Zhu sent a video of the child crying so hard he was blowing snot bubbles.

Yu Xia didn’t reply to this one. She found the child’s crying too ugly to warrant a response.

Further down, Chen Zhu ranted about a scumbag in her major who had cheated several girls outside campus out of their hearts, bodies, and money. She lamented to Yu Xia, “Men can deceive my feelings, but they can never deceive my money!”

Yu Xia retorted, “You don’t have any money.”

The last few messages were about Chen Zhu’s neighbor’s sister giving birth. Chen Zhu had previously told Yu Xia how the neighbor’s sister had taken her in several times during arguments with her family, bringing her home for fried chicken when she was crying her eyes out. Chen Zhu genuinely liked her neighbor’s sister, a purely platonic affection born from kindness.

Bamboo: Newborns are so ugly! But when the sister held her baby and smiled at me, saying it looked a bit like her when she was little, suddenly it didn’t seem ugly anymore. Actually, it was kind of cute.

Bamboo: Mandatory education has finally come full circle! I finally understand what “love me, love my dog” means!

Yu Xia stared at the phrase “love me, love my dog” for a moment before typing her question:

Xia: So, “love me, love my dog” means something ordinary becomes endearing because you like the neighbor’s sister, right? Like, you suddenly find her kid cute too?

Chen Zhu, perhaps having some free time, replied:

Zhu: Exactly! At first, I thought the kid looked like a hairless rat, but when the sister said he resembled her as a child, I suddenly found him adorable.

Zhu: Why the sudden interest in this? I can’t imagine you ever falling for someone so hard you’d love their dog too.

Xia: Never mind.

As Yu Xia exited the chat, Zheng Yun’s WeChat message praising her profile picture as “cute” still lingered in her view.

Could Zheng Yun have meant…?

She walked to the window.

Evening had fallen, and the sky darkened silently. A fine drizzle drifted through the open window, dampening the sill. Yu Xia suddenly felt an urge to ask Zheng Yun directly, but the words caught in her throat.

She hated inviting trouble.

When she was a child, whenever she reached for something, it rarely ended up in her hands. Instead, she’d receive apologies from Ke Qian and Yu Donghai, who would say, “Niannian likes it. We’ll buy you a new one.”

What did a child know of new or old? All she knew was that she wanted what was right in front of her.

Later, she dimly grasped a truth: the more she wanted something, the less likely she was to get it.

She didn’t understand. She didn’t understand why Zheng Yun had darted into her room, and even less why her first instinct had been to shut the door.

For a fleeting moment, she felt like she and Zheng Yun were having a secret affair. Someone was coming, and they had to hide quickly, terrified of being discovered.

Zheng Yun was momentarily taken aback when Yu Xia closed the door, as if she hadn’t expected such a move. She paused, then smiled.

“Sorry to bother you,” Zheng Yun said.

“It’s no problem.”

Since she was already here, Yu Xia went to find a hairdryer for her.

As she entered the bathroom, Yu Xia suddenly understood.

If Chen Zhu knew, she would say that Yu Xia had spent the first half of her life’s emotional intelligence trying to figure out why Zheng Yun had suddenly rushed into her room.

Zheng Yun probably just didn’t like exposing her private side to others.

After finding the hairdryer, Yu Xia handed it to Zheng Yun and offered, “You can dry your hair here before you leave.”

The new resident was still jumping and dancing on the balcony. It was raining outside and dark, making it impossible to see anything on the balcony.

Yu Xia and Zheng Yun exchanged glances, both bewildered by the energy of these young people.

Worried that Zheng Yun might run into someone if she left, Yu Xia decided to go all the way and let her dry her hair in the room.

While Zheng Yun dried her hair, Yu Xia sat nearby, sketching.

Yu Xia was always deeply focused when she painted. During high school training camp, her teacher had praised her as the most patient student in the studio, capable of sitting from dawn till dusk, her attention unwavering except for meals and bathroom breaks.

But now, she found herself unusually distracted.

Her damp, long hair cascaded softly beside her. Slender, pale fingers threaded through the dark strands, parting them only to let them fall back together. The room filled with the fragrant steam of her hair, its scent drifting into Yu Xia’s nostrils. Zheng Yun was wearing a rare spaghetti-strap dress, the delicate straps taut against her collarbones. The dress hugged her waist just enough to hint at her curves, and her long legs were crossed, her feet clad in the same slippers she’d worn when they first met.

The hairdryer roared, yet Yu Xia could clearly hear the whisper of hair strands brushing against each other.

And the pounding of her heart.

By the time she realized it, an inexplicable curve had appeared in the figure she was drawing.

She closed her eyes briefly, erased the line, and forced her attention back to the sketch in her hands.

Zheng Yun’s hair was thick and long, taking over ten minutes to dry to a damp state. She switched off the hairdryer and turned to look at Yu Xia.

Yu Xia was utterly absorbed, her focus as unwavering as a monk striking a wooden fish in a temple, as if the words “Emptiness of the Four Elements” were written across her face. She hadn’t even noticed Zheng Yun finishing her hair.

Zheng Yun didn’t disturb her. She propped her chin in her hand and quietly watched Yu Xia.

In the early days of the internet, netizens loved to say, “A man who’s serious is the most charming.” Zheng Yun stared at Yu Xia for several minutes, savoring the sight. She found Yu Xia’s focused intensity utterly captivating.

She couldn’t see the painting in Yu Xia’s hands, only a profile—her hair pulled back, eyes fixed on the canvas. Her hand moved swiftly, gripping the brush with focused precision. The white background light illuminated her face, making her already pale skin appear even fairer.

She looked as endearing as a snowman built on a snowy day.

Zheng Yun had been watching her for over ten minutes before Yu Xia finally noticed. She hadn’t even realized when the hairdryer had stopped. Startled, Yu Xia glanced up to check on Zheng Yun’s movements and met her gaze directly. A radiant smile bloomed on Zheng Yun’s lips, as vibrant as spring itself, as if about to burst into full bloom.

“Finished drying your hair?” Yu Xia asked, setting down her brush.

“Mm-hmm,” Zheng Yun nodded, resting her chin in her hand. “Thank you for the hairdryer.”

“You’re welcome,” Yu Xia replied politely.

Their formality felt like a first meeting, a polite exchange tinged with an inexplicable awkwardness.

“Sorry to bother you,” Zheng Yun explained, starting from the beginning. “It’s just a bit of a hassle to go downstairs to find Xiao Qi.”

“It’s fine,” Yu Xia replied.

She suddenly remembered Zheng Yun mentioning that she always used more words when talking to others than when talking to her. After racking her brain for a while, she finally managed to squeeze out, “You just finished showering and didn’t want to run into strangers downstairs. I understand.”

Zheng Yun nodded, her long hair swaying behind her. “I didn’t expect to run into anyone anyway,” she said.

“Quite unfortunate.”

Zheng Yun didn’t respond to that, changing the subject instead. “When you first got back to your room tonight, were you trying to tell me something?” she asked.

Sensing Yu Xia might not understand, she added, “I mean on WeChat. You were taking so long to send a message.”

Yu Xia’s heart jolted.

Her shock wasn’t that Zheng Yun had noticed her hesitation in the chat box. It was that Zheng Yun had opened the chat box at the exact same moment.

The two of them, separated by a hallway, had been staring at the same WeChat conversation, both silently refraining from sending a message.

Yu Xia remained silent.

Bathed in the soft light, Zheng Yun looked as gentle as a bodhisattva, radiating an aura of tenderness as she gazed at Yu Xia. Her eyes seemed to hold infinite understanding, as if she could accept anything Yu Xia might say, waiting patiently for her reply.

The more Zheng Yun acted this way, the less courage Yu Xia had to ask her questions.

She didn’t know if Zheng Yun’s tenderness was reserved for her alone or extended to everyone. She couldn’t bring herself to ask what kind of affection Zheng Yun felt for her.

“You wanted to text me, didn’t you?” Zheng Yun didn’t press her, instead phrasing the question differently.

“Mm,” Yu Xia replied.

“I understand,” Zheng Yun said, her eyes crinkling into a smile. “Since I wanted to know the answer, I came to find you.”

“So your hairdryer wasn’t really broken?” Yu Xia’s attention drifted elsewhere.

“It really was broken,” Zheng Yun chuckled. “But even without that excuse, I would have found another reason.”

The boisterous college students jumping and dancing on the balcony made Yu Xia’s ears ring, almost drowning out Zheng Yun’s words.

Those exquisitely shaped lips, full and kissable, moved slowly, each word spoken with deliberate clarity:

“When I want to see you, I don’t need a reason.”