After Becoming Roommates with My Flirty Ex-Girlfriend - Chapter 19

Memories surfaced before the answer.

Zheng Yun’s eyes were filled with anticipation, their loving gaze almost perfectly mirroring a pair of eyes from Yu Xia’s past. Those eyes, brimming with the same hopeful expectation, had once held her hand.

In the narrow alleyway of late autumn, beneath the ginkgo tree outside the stationery shop, a girl with a high ponytail stood bathed in sunlight filtering through the leaves, the light glinting off her glasses. She declared with unwavering conviction, “I want to be your best friend for life.”

Yu Xia lowered her gaze. The answer that should have sprung to her lips now died in her throat. The silence, though unnoticed amidst the surrounding noise, felt palpable, piercing her like thorns. She wanted to push Zheng Yun away and flee back to her room.

“Xiaxia,” Zheng Yun noticed Yu Xia’s unease. She gently pinched Yu Xia’s cheek, just enough to bring her back to herself.

“Do you think things are moving too fast?” Zheng Yun asked, her voice puzzled.

Sweat from their passionate encounter still clung to her slender back, her shoulder blades rising and falling like the wings of a butterfly at rest. A cool breeze made her shiver slightly, and she leaned closer to Yu Xia, her tone utterly patient, as if Yu Xia had merely blinked.

“No,” Yu Xia said, a profound sense of absurdity washing over her.

Before their meeting tonight, she had worried Zheng Yun wouldn’t commit, fearing she was only interested in the ambiguous atmosphere. Yet now that Zheng Yun had earnestly confessed her feelings, it was Yu Xia who hesitated.

“Are you worried about something?” Zheng Yun murmured, pressing her cheek against Yu Xia’s. “Or do you just not want to define our relationship right now?”

Seeming unfazed by Yu Xia’s reaction, Zheng Yun continued to nuzzle her cheek, soothingly reassuring her, “It’s okay if you don’t want to define things yet. We’re moving a bit fast…”

Yu Xia gently shook her head.

“I was just too surprised,” she said. “I do want to.”

The shock and anger from being deceived had long since dissolved into the river of time, no longer capable of stirring her emotions. Yet in moments like this, they would leap from the depths, reminding her to be extra cautious—to guard against anyone trying to breach her psychological defenses and to prevent another betrayal.

The woman in her arms slumped onto her lap, her damp skin brushing against Yu Xia’s thigh, a tangible reminder of what had just transpired.

Yu Xia lowered her gaze, a thousand questions clamoring to be asked. But the moment she opened her mouth, her words took a different turn.

“Come sleep at my place after your shower,” she said, letting the darkness conceal her wandering thoughts. Her bright eyes remained fixed on Zheng Yun.

“Then it’s settled,” Zheng Yun replied without hesitation, climbing out of bed. “I’ll go shower now.”

She padded barefoot into the bathroom, humming softly. After switching on the light and closing the door, the frosted glass partition blurred her silhouette, revealing only vague movements. The sound of water cascaded onto the floor. In the cramped guesthouse room, Yu Xia closed her eyes, imagining the sound of shower gel foaming between Zheng Yun’s pale fingers as she lathered every inch of her body.

Yu Xia lay back on the bed, her mouth dry. Despite the cool, rainy night, the lingering heat from their earlier activity still clung to her skin. She craved something cold to quench her thirst and ease the lingering warmth.

After a moment’s hesitation, she dressed and resolved to get up, switch on the light, and find some water. Just as her knuckles pressed against the light switch, Zheng Yun emerged from the bathroom.

Zheng Yun, also feeling warm, had set the water temperature low. A wave of warm, fragrant citrus-scented steam washed over Yu Xia as the damp figure stood in the doorway. Their eyes met in surprise, and Yu Xia was struck by Zheng Yun’s dazzlingly pale skin.

The warm yellow bathroom light softened Zheng Yun’s expression. Water droplets trembled on her long, damp lashes, and her luminous eyes held lingering steam. Her delicate collarbones and cool, pale skin were framed by a loosely draped beige bath towel, which she held in place with one hand to keep it from slipping to the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Zheng Yun asked, stepping onto the absorbent bath mat. The towel slid down a few centimeters with her movement, briefly revealing a hint of her bare shoulder.

“I wanted some water,” Yu Xia said, averting her gaze.

“I thought you were trying to run away from the wedding. The water’s over there,” Zheng Yun gestured to a small round table in the corner, where a kettle and a ceramic cup sat. The cup looked nothing like its polished counterparts in shop windows; it seemed as if someone had simply punched a fist into a lump of clay, casually pinched out a handle, and slapped on some paint to make a makeshift vessel.

Yu Xia stared silently at the ceramic cup, then at Zheng Yun, who was walking out with the bath towel tucked under her arm and a washcloth patting her face. Oblivious, Zheng Yun dried her face, tossed the damp washcloth into the trash, and opened the wardrobe to find her nightgown.

“Just use my cup,” Zheng Yun said, turning around with her nightgown in hand. She noticed Yu Xia’s gaze and added matter-of-factly, “I made this cup myself. It might be a bit ugly, but don’t mind it.”

Yu Xia pressed her lips together, replying diplomatically, “It’s your own art.”

Zheng Yun leaned against the closet door, smiling. “Do you praise your classmates like this at school too?”

Yu Xia was already drinking from the cup.

The water poured from the kettle was warm. Yu Xia took a couple of sips, surprised by how much the oddly shaped cup could hold. Hearing Zheng Yun’s question, she looked up, puzzled. “I don’t praise my classmates.”

“I don’t really evaluate their work either,” Yu Xia added.

Zheng Yun had already changed into her nightgown—a long, white silk dress that flowed to her waist, making her look like a goddess.

“Is that because you’re afraid your classmates can’t handle criticism?” Zheng Yun asked.

Yu Xia finished half the cup of water, the dryness in her mouth easing. She shook her head. “I don’t feel any urge to grade other people’s work.”

Just as she disliked being judged, she rarely judged others, except when necessary. But Zheng Yun’s words suddenly reminded her of those occasional classroom critique sessions. The professor had once remarked that some students’ evaluations were so distinctive, it was obvious who wrote them. At that moment, everyone had turned to look at her in unison.

She abruptly paused.

Zheng Yun’s eyes hadn’t missed her subtle reaction. Zheng Yun smiled knowingly. “What are you thinking about?”

Yu Xia recounted the memory, then wondered if her earlier comments about Zheng Yun had made her uncomfortable. She glanced sideways to gauge Zheng Yun’s reaction. Zheng Yun’s gaze was intense, a smile playing on her lips as she stared directly at Yu Xia. When their eyes met, Yu Xia lowered her head to take a sip of water, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Classroom critiques were usually anonymous. The professor would randomly select a few submitted assignments to display. During these sessions, Yu Xia’s remarks were often memorable, such as “an idea that defies convention” or “a work that transcends the understanding of ordinary minds.” Her comments had amused the professor several times. Fortunately, Yu Xia’s evaluations of the works generally aligned with the professor’s views, and her occasional witty remarks even helped deflect some of the professor’s criticism from others, so no one ever gave her trouble.

Yu Xia had never thought there was anything wrong with the way she spoke. Chen Zhu occasionally hinted that she should be less direct, emphasizing the importance of tact and subtlety in social interactions. Unfortunately, Yu Xia had little interest in such social niceties and had never bothered to cultivate them.

It wasn’t until now that she belatedly realized her bluntness might upset Zheng Yun.

” ‘Ideas that differ from the norm’… like mine?” Zheng Yun asked, showing no sign of annoyance. She began stripping the bed, removing the sheets to wash them tomorrow, all while speaking.

Yu Xia set down her cup and moved to help.

“I remember her as someone with very strong opinions,” Yu Xia said, lifting the mattress to pull out the sheet trapped underneath. She frowned, straining to recall, “The assignment was about the school’s lake. Most students painted it at dusk, but she painted it as…”

Zheng Yun noticed Yu Xia’s silence and looked up, seeing her strange expression.

“Hmm?”

“She said our school’s lake looked like a portal to another world, and she painted it in the style of a hundred demons’ night parade,” Yu Xia finally remembered why she had called her classmate’s “ideas unconventional.”

“But that class required drawing from life.”

Zheng Yun couldn’t help but chuckle, agreeing with Yu Xia’s assessment: “Her ideas are definitely unconventional.”

This classmate’s wildly imaginative ideas had earned her zero points on regular assignments, nearly causing her to fail the final exam. Fortunately, her technical skills were strong enough to barely pass.

“And what was that ‘a work beyond mortal comprehension’?” Zheng Yun asked, gathering all the items on the bed into a ball and tossing them into the laundry basket.

“The teacher assigned a portrait sketching assignment. He claimed Guanyin Bodhisattva appeared in his dream and instructed him to paint her. The proportions were off, and the highlights were misplaced,” Yu Xia said, her impression of the classmate deepening. “When the teacher criticized him, he insisted he had consulted Guanyin herself and that it was correct. That’s why I said it was beyond mortal comprehension.”

Zheng Yun laughed so hard she doubled over.

Wiping away the tears from laughing, she pressed, “So, was that compliment earlier genuine?”

Yu Xia nodded. “Absolutely.”

There are countless forms of art, and anything that can be understood as such is art. She didn’t know how Zheng Yun had sculpted it, but since she knew Zheng Yun had made it, it was beautiful.

“Next time, I’ll take you with me to sculpt. You can make me another one,” Zheng Yun said, walking over and finishing the water Yu Xia hadn’t drunk from her cup.

Yu Xia now cherished the phrase “go together.”

To go together meant a promise to accompany her in everything, never abandoning her.

“Okay,” Yu Xia replied.

The fireworks outside the window had long since ended, and the noise on the balcony gradually subsided. Footsteps echoed down the stairs until only the sounds of cleaning up remained.

After days of rain, the croaking of frogs drowned out the cicadas. Frogs croaked in the puddles that had accumulated in the abandoned buildings, their calls rising and falling in waves. The lights of the small town gradually dimmed until only the dim streetlights, barely illuminating half a meter around them, remained lit.

Yu Xia pondered for a moment and decided to help Xiao Qi and Xiao Jiu clean up before showering. The university students were likely passed out drunk, and since she and Zheng Yun had left early, they should lend a hand.

The two quietly slipped out of the room. Zheng Yun entered first, leaving the door ajar for Yu Xia.

Yu Xia walked down the corridor toward the door. The balcony door was ajar, perhaps left open by the wind.

She pushed it open, but the scene she expected—the two of them diligently cleaning up the leftovers—was nowhere to be seen. The bagged trash was neatly stacked by the door, and the balcony was spotless. Only the lingering scent of wine and meat, not yet dispersed by the wind, hinted at the night’s events.

The two were locked in an embrace, turning back with lingering confusion. Xiao Qi still had a faint bite mark on her cheek. Having just finished her own encounter, Yu Xia knew exactly what had transpired. She turned away mechanically, without hesitation.

It was foolish of me to even think of helping.

After taking a few steps, she heard Xiao Jiu’s puzzled voice behind her: “If she’s already been with Zheng Yun, why would she come to us?”

Xiao Qi paused for two seconds before replying, “Maybe she’s not very good at it and came to me for tips.”

Xiao Jiu grumbled, “I even wrote her a guide!”

Yu Xia quickened her pace, eager to escape this awkward situation. Just today, Zheng Yun had praised her skills, saying she was a natural and didn’t need any guide at all.

Then she paused, trying to remember which drawer she had put the box in.

Zheng Yun wasn’t asleep. She lay in bed with a small lamp on, reading a book.

The warm, yellow light fell on her head, her eyelashes fluttering gently. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow, and her fingers paused on the pages, her expression utterly focused—if you ignored the fact that she was reading a web novel.

Yu Xia stared at the cover: “Thirty-Three Heartbreaks: She Flees, She Pursues, They Can’t Escape.” The spine blazed with the title: The Domineering Alpha Falls for Me. Shifting her gaze to Zheng Yun, Yu Xia saw delicate, gentle features. Though her demeanor was soft, she possessed an ethereal grace, like a celestial being bestowing blessings upon the world.

It was hard to reconcile this book with Zheng Yun.

Zheng Yun caught Yu Xia’s return in her peripheral vision. She closed the book and asked, “Are they done cleaning up?”

Yu Xia numbly retrieved her pajamas and the bath towel drying by the window, describing the scene: “Everyone’s gone. The two of them are on the balcony…”

The words “embracing and kissing” remained unspoken, but Zheng Yun understood the implication. She chuckled, “If I’d known, I would have gone with you.”

Yu Xia would have turned and left immediately if Zheng Yun hadn’t been there. With her presence, at least a few words might have been exchanged.

“Are these books yours?” Yu Xia asked Zheng Yun, changing the subject.

“Xiao Jiu’s. Her phone broke, and she lent me these to keep me occupied,” Zheng Yun said, waving the books. “Honestly, they’re surprisingly good.”

Yu Xia had never read anything like them, guessing they were similar to the domineering CEO romance novels Chen Zhu loved. How could those be any good? she wondered.

She didn’t press further and went to take a shower.

When Yu Xia emerged from the bathroom, Zheng Yun was still engrossed in her book, her rounded fingertip pressing against the page number. She was so absorbed she didn’t even notice Yu Xia had come out. Yu Xia, with her short hair, had washed it and now came out with her half-wet hair wrapped in a towel, looking for the hairdryer. Only then did Zheng Yun notice her.

She set down the book and stood up. “Let me help you dry your hair.”

Yu Xia protested, wanting to do things herself rather than trouble Zheng Yun. But Zheng Yun grabbed the hairdryer from the table first, raising an eyebrow. “We’re just starting out. Let me do something to please my girlfriend.”

Yu Xia finally sat down, but before the hairdryer roared to life, she turned her head. “You don’t need to do things like this. I like you just the way you are.”

After saying those words, her heart pounded, her ears burned, and she couldn’t bring herself to look Zheng Yun in the eye. This was the first time she had confessed her feelings without Zheng Yun’s prompting, and she felt both awkward and worried that Zheng Yun might find her too forward.

Zheng Yun didn’t turn on the hairdryer immediately.

Before Yu Xia could turn around, Zheng Yun placed a hand on her shoulder and began drying her hair.

Yu Xia was facing the river. The swollen river wasn’t as clear as usual, its muddy waters carrying silt and branches as it surged forward. The evening breeze, tinged with the earthy scent of the river, swept across Yu Xia’s freshly bathed skin, tempering the heat from the hairdryer.

Zheng Yun seemed adept at drying hair, shifting positions before the scalp grew too hot. Standing beside Yu Xia, her silk nightgown brushed against Yu Xia’s short-sleeved pajamas. The thin, clingy fabric allowed Yu Xia’s arm to clearly sense the warmth and softness of Zheng Yun’s flat stomach.

Zheng Yun’s fingertips threaded through Yu Xia’s hair, shaking off lingering droplets. The faint citrus fragrance, now barely discernible amidst the river’s fishy scent, wafted to Yu Xia’s nose with each movement. Yu Xia restrained herself, resisting the urge to follow the scent to its source.

Zheng Yun blew her hair dry with meticulous care. The wall lamp cast her silhouette against the wall, her expression resembling that of a diligent student listening intently to a teacher’s lecture, afraid to miss a single detail. Yu Xia stared at her profile in a daze until Zheng Yun switched off the dryer, snapping her out of her reverie.

Her hair now dry and cool air dissipating the remaining warmth, Yu Xia turned around to find Zheng Yun embracing her from behind, pressing a kiss to her cheek before wordlessly holding her close. Stunned by the sudden kiss, Yu Xia felt Zheng Yun’s cheek against hers as they silently admired the unremarkable scenery together.

After a long moment, Yu Xia finally snapped out of her daze, realizing Zheng Yun was bending over to hug her.

Knowing this position couldn’t be comfortable, Yu Xia didn’t want to trouble Zheng Yun further. She turned sideways and pulled Zheng Yun into her arms, wanting to ask but too shy to voice the question. She longed to know why Zheng Yun had kissed her earlier, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

“Xiaxia,” Zheng Yun murmured, leaning against Yu Xia’s shoulder, her voice so soft it seemed the wind could carry it away.

“Hmm?” Yu Xia replied, holding her close, their bodies pressed together. Zheng Yun was so slender that holding her felt barely heavier than an easel; a simple tightening of her arms could draw her entirely into Yu Xia’s embrace.

“I always thought you’d regret it,” Zheng Yun said, her peach-blossom eyes fixed on the distant, receding mountains, her teasing tone gone.

Yu Xia suddenly remembered that this wasn’t the first time Zheng Yun had seemed afraid she would run away. Her playful tone had made Yu Xia mistake it all for a joke. So Zheng Yun had her own worries too?

“Even impulsive, unthinking decisions are still my own choices,” Yu Xia said, pulling Zheng Yun closer. Zheng Yun’s arm draped across her shoulder, tightening slightly. With the mountains as their witness and the river as their companion, Yu Xia spoke with utter sincerity: “I never regret any decision I make.”

Zheng Yun’s arm tightened further. Her throat tightened, but she said nothing more, her voice lightening: “I thought you were going to be a runaway bride today.”

Everyone has things they don’t want to talk about. Yu Xia understood this and, respecting Zheng Yun’s silence, played along: “With such a beautiful bride, how could I bear to run away?”

Zheng Yun paused, then said in a strange tone, “Did you read a novel where the protagonist runs away from their wedding?”

Zheng Yun choked, for the first time in her life wanting to change the subject. “I think the weather will be nice tomorrow.”

“Let me borrow the book and read it too,” Yu Xia said, ignoring her attempt to change the subject.

Zheng Yun immediately scrambled out of Yu Xia’s arms and stood up to hide the book. Yu Xia followed suit, trying to snatch it back. The two of them chased each other around the small room, staging a real-life “she runs, she chases” drama.

After two laps, Zheng Yun surrendered first. “Xiaxia, stop chasing me! If you keep running, you’ll get sweaty again. Let’s just go to sleep.”

Yu Xia didn’t object. After a long day of work, she was genuinely tired.

The two huddled together under the covers, abandoning their earlier probing. Zheng Yun rubbed her sleepy eyes and asked Yu Xia to move her hair to the side.

The lights went out.

Darkness enveloped them. Zheng Yun rested her head on Yu Xia’s shoulder and repeated, “The weather will definitely be nice tomorrow.”

Yu Xia sleepily tucked the blanket around her.

After the rain, the sky cleared. The height of summer was approaching.