After Becoming Roommates with My Flirty Ex-Girlfriend - Chapter 42

Xiao Zhou burst into the office, coffee in hand, like a whirlwind. The smoke rising from the congee Yu Xia had ordered scattered, only to reform before Xiao Zhou could even speak.

“Ordering takeout from her place again?” Xiao Zhou asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Mm,” Yu Xia replied, glancing at her phone with feigned interest.

It was a different flavor this time, but still perfectly suited to her palate.

“I knew it!” Xiao Zhou said, grinning slyly. “You’re a Taurus, aren’t you?”

“Mm,” Yu Xia mumbled, her eyes still fixed on her phone.

She remembered Chen Zhu mentioning astrology a few times, claiming Yu Xia was a textbook Taurus. Her world revolved around what she wanted to eat, do, and play, with little interest in anything else—like a robot programmed with a single goal.

“Taurus types just keep eating what they love until they’re sick of it,” Xiao Zhou said, munching on her bread. “Even when they switch flavors, it’s only after they’re completely bored with the old one.”

Yu Xia didn’t understand the theoretical basis for this kind of science. The humid heat made her eyelashes damp, and she blinked, replying, “Aren’t you?”

“No,” Xiao Zhou said, puzzled. “Don’t you find it boring to eat the same thing every day?”

During her four years of university, Yu Xia had drunk soy milk from the third cafeteria every day. The cafeteria Auntie even recognized her and would specially cool a cup of soy milk in advance, so it would be at the perfect temperature when Yu Xia came to buy it.

If Zheng Yun ran a restaurant, Yu Xia thought, I’d probably be the kind of customer who eats all three meals there every day.

But Zheng Yun wasn’t in the food service industry.

Their relationship hadn’t even reached the point where she could order dishes from her.

The lunch group reverted to its original four members. Cen Xue and Xiao Zhou had no objections, as it had always been a group of four before.

Yu Xia wouldn’t voice any objections either; that would be too awkward. She continued to interact with Zheng Yun as before, only deliberately keeping her distance when they were alone, silently expressing her resistance.

After just one breakfast, Yu Xia resolved to refuse the next day.

Zheng Yun wasn’t her personal chef, and Yu Xia couldn’t comfortably accept Zheng Yun sacrificing her rest time to take care of her.

But Zheng Yun gave her no opportunity to refuse.

Like a persistent stream, she seized every opening. The moment Yu Xia showed the slightest hesitation, Zheng Yun would eagerly rush forward, transforming into a massive, millennia-old block of ice that wedged itself firmly against the door, preventing Yu Xia from closing it.

Yu Xia frowned. “Are you here to work or to be a chef?”

From her previous observations, Fengyin’s work, cooking, and Zheng Yun’s sleep schedule were completely incompatible. Zheng Yun had chosen to sacrifice her rest, pushing herself to the brink of exhaustion.

“I set a timer to start cooking every night,” Zheng Yun explained as she packed the meal into a container. “All I need to do is wake up ten minutes earlier in the morning.”

Yu Xia didn’t reach for the container, remaining rooted to the spot.

Morning light streamed through the kitchen balcony’s glass window, illuminating golden dust motes dancing in the air before settling on Zheng Yun’s long, raven-black hair.

Her eyes held a gentle smile, and her bright pupils shimmered with light, making her resemble a goddess.

Yu Xia averted her gaze. “I’ll pay you the market price.”

“Market price? One pineapple for a week’s worth of breakfasts,” Zheng Yun said with a sly smile. “Owner, are you selling?”

Yu Xia pretended to walk away.

“I’m just kidding!” Zheng Yun quickly handed her the pineapple. “I’m eating it myself. Bringing you some was just convenient. No need to pay.”

Yu Xia finally accepted it.

Those days when she didn’t bring me breakfast, she must have just grabbed something quick downstairs at the office.

Or maybe she wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to cook.

As these thoughts swirled in her mind, Yu Xia left her apartment with the packaged pineapple and bumped into Cen Xue, who was just opening her door.

Cen Xue was used to this by now. Her years of gossip-honed instincts told her that her two colleagues across the hall were hiding something from everyone at the company.

She was curious, but didn’t dare ask.

Though she was close to Yu Xia, she was still afraid to pry into her personal life. Yu Xia had a way of spitting out sharp, cutting remarks like knives when she didn’t want to answer.

Zheng Yun, on the other hand, was as gentle as a spring breeze. Any attempt to ask her something would be easily deflected with a few well-placed words.

She decided to give up and learn from Xiao Zhou’s blunt sensitivity—the ability to stay unfazed by awkward situations or criticism.

The two entered the elevator side by side, silent and still, even quieter than Monday’s morning meeting.

Cen Xue, having held her breath for what felt like an eternity, finally decided to break the silence herself.

“Are we getting breakfast at that place by the bridge again today?” she asked.

Yu Xia, who had been lost in thought, snapped back to attention. She glanced at Cen Xue with a puzzled, almost bewildered look, as if asking, “Are you really asking that?”

Cen Xue immediately shut her mouth, realizing she shouldn’t have spoken up.

Xiao Zhou, completely oblivious to the tension, even teased Yu Xia, asking if the congee tasted like her first love. “Otherwise, how could you be so obsessed with it that you’ve become practically inseparable from the place since starting work here?”

Cen Xue gasped inwardly, wondering how Xiao Zhou had suddenly become so perceptive.

Zheng Yun, who had just arrived to hand Yu Xia some documents, raised an eyebrow at the remark. Instead of leaving, he lingered, waiting for Yu Xia’s response.

Yu Xia paused for at least five seconds before answering with an unchanged expression, “It reminds me of when I wasn’t working yet.”

“That certainly brings back fond memories,” Xiao Zhou said. “Work shattered my beautiful virtues and turned me into a demon.”

Zheng Yun chuckled. “A demon specifically in charge of meals?”

Xiao Zhou shook her head dramatically. “A poor demon imprisoned by the Demon King, forced to draw until the task is complete, or else never escape.”

After a few more jests, the group returned to their offices just before the Team Lead arrived.

Once everyone had left, Yu Xia went to the restroom while taking out the trash. Beneath her earlobe, her ear was faintly flushed.

Xiao Zhou had been right about one thing: it truly did taste like first love.

But just as fine cuisine has a limited shelf life, some things—and some people—are best preserved as memories.

On Sunday afternoon, Chen Zhu and Qi Shu arrived with gifts for their visit.

After resigning from her job, Chen Zhu hadn’t rushed to find a new one. Instead, she and Qi Shu explored every corner of Nanqiao City and its surroundings. Chen Zhu radiated a radiant glow, nourished by love, a stark contrast to Yu Xia’s cold detachment after a week of being whipped by work.

Though they called it dinner, it was really just an excuse to drink.

Chen Zhu had loved drinking since college. Yu Xia occasionally joined her, but most of the time she played the role of the designated driver, rushing from the studio to take Chen Zhu home after she got drunk.

Now that Chen Zhu had found a girlfriend who loved drinking as much as she did, she chattered incessantly at the table, recounting how she and Qi Shu had spent their second date in a drinking contest that lasted all night, ending with Chen Zhu blacking out and losing.

Yu Xia listened silently, occasionally offering a brief comment.

Midway through the meal, Zheng Yun went to the restroom for a break. Chen Zhu leaned in and whispered, “Do you like Zheng Yun’s type?”

Yu Xia’s brow twitched.

Qi Shu kept her head down, focused on her drink, and didn’t participate in the conversation.

Qi Shu likely knew something about Yu Xia’s past with Zheng Yun. Among the four at the table, only Chen Zhu seemed completely unaware. Yu Xia didn’t know where to begin explaining her seemingly perfect but ultimately flawed history with Zheng Yun—a past like lice hidden beneath a magnificent robe. She hadn’t been able to speak about it during their best times, and now she didn’t know from what perspective to even bring it up.

“I think she’s your ideal type,” Chen Zhu said excitedly, her cheeks flushed pink after a few drinks. “Do you want to pursue her?”

“No,” Yu Xia shook her head. “I don’t.”

Chen Zhu nodded knowingly. “If you don’t say you don’t like her, that means you do.”

Yu Xia: “……”

Chen Zhu was far sharper than Xiao Zhou; any slip-up could be immediately detected.

Yu Xia closed her eyes briefly. “I don’t like her.”

Zheng Yun emerged from washing her hands just then, spotting the two huddled together. “What are you whispering about?” she asked.

Chen Zhu turned back to Qi Shu, grinning. “We were just saying how beautiful Zheng Yun-jie is, like a flower!”

Zheng Yun laughed, playfully asking, “Really? You were actually saying nice things about me?”

Chen Zhu replied matter-of-factly, “Of course! If you don’t believe me, ask Yu Xia if I was saying you’re pretty.”

Zheng Yun turned her gaze to Yu Xia, who sat beside her.

Yu Xia hadn’t drunk much; her complexion remained unchanged, save for a faint blush on her earlobes.

At home, Zheng Yun dressed casually, her hair loosely pulled up, slightly disheveled. Her eyes shone with a clear, alluring brightness, like a venomous serpent coiled around an apple tree, and Yu Xia was Eve.

Knowing full well that this path led to ruin and damnation, she found herself unable to resist.

“And Yu Xia? Did she praise me too?” Zheng Yun’s eyes sparkled with laughter as she spoke. Yu Xia averted her gaze, offering no reply.

Chen Zhu had already succumbed to the allure of alcohol.

During her university days, Yu Xia had often spent hours in the art studio. She and her friends never dared to drink too much, always maintaining a sliver of sobriety. Now, surrounded by familiar faces, she drank freely, glass after glass.

Hearing Zheng Yun’s question, Chen Zhu raised an eyebrow. “Of course! You’re Yu Xia’s handpicked beauty queen, after all.”

Yu Xia didn’t refute the claim.

A hasty denial would only betray her feelings, so she simply accepted it.

“Really?” Zheng Yun leaned closer to Yu Xia, maintaining a safe distance—close enough to feel her breath but not close enough for body heat to mingle—as if coaxing her with a tempting red apple.

“Mm,” Yu Xia murmured, leaning back in her chair to create more distance between herself and the viper’s calculated seduction.

Zheng Yun, pleased with the response, settled back into her seat and resumed clinking glasses with Qi Shu and Chen Zhu.

After a few rounds, the tables turned, and Yu Xia suddenly found herself the target of their relentless toasting.

Preoccupied with her own thoughts, Yu Xia didn’t refuse Qi Shu’s endless toasts. She knew Qi Shu’s motives were far from pure, but under the influence of alcohol, she found herself unwilling to dwell on the details.

Life was fleeting, like a mayfly’s dance. If happiness was right before her eyes, that was enough.

By the time Chen Zhu had completely drunk herself into a stupor, collapsing face-down on the table and snoring loudly, Zheng Yun was also feeling dizzy and disoriented. Only Yu Xia and Qi Shu remained relatively sober.

Qi Shu regarded Yu Xia with newfound respect.

Before the gathering, she had asked Chen Zhu and Zheng Yun about Yu Xia’s drinking capacity, but neither knew. Now it was clear: Yu Xia didn’t dislike drinking; she simply didn’t indulge. She had withstood their combined onslaught, maintaining clear speech and agile movements.

Chen Zhu was too drunk to move, so after a brief discussion with Yu Xia and Zheng Yun, they decided she would stay overnight.

Chen Zhu and Zheng Yun would share Zheng Yun’s room, while Yu Xia and Zheng Yun would sleep in Yu Xia’s room.

Yu Xia felt her cheeks burning and her heart pounding after calmly discussing the sleeping arrangements. Could it be from drinking too much?

Qi Shu went to bathe Chen Zhu first. Yu Xia was about to find some unused clothes for Chen Zhu to wear as pajamas when she saw Qi Shu pull out pajamas and a towel from her bag.

Yu Xia’s temple twitched.

No wonder she brought such a big bag when we arrived. I wondered why she needed so many clothes just for a meal. Turns out she came prepared.

The bedsheets and covers Zheng Yun had washed earlier that afternoon fluttered on the balcony. Yu Xia’s muddled mind pieced together a simple truth: tonight’s events seemed to have been planned in advance.

Zheng Yun was already clearing the mess from the dining table.

It was fortunate that Qi Shu had been the main drinker tonight, with Chen Zhu as her sidekick and Zheng Yun only occasionally joining in for a few sips. Otherwise, given her low alcohol tolerance, she would never have been able to keep up with two heavy drinkers and a “sweeping monk” who hadn’t yet revealed his full potential.

Even so, Zheng Yun’s head was swimming. As she placed the wine bottles into a cardboard box, her grip loosened, and a bottle nearly slipped from her hand.

A steady hand caught the glass bottle, while another steadied her shoulder. Strands of hair brushed against Zheng Yun’s bare neck, sending a ticklish shiver down her spine.

“Go sit down for a while,” Yu Xia said, her tone leaving no room for argument as she steadied Zheng Yun. “I’ll clean up.”

Zheng Yun murmured in agreement and took a few steps forward, her legs suddenly giving way. She braced herself against the table, clutching her forehead, clearly drunk.

Yu Xia’s movements froze.

Logically, as Zheng Yun’s roommate and colleague, she should offer assistance.

But she desperately didn’t want to touch Zheng Yun.

Zheng Yun steadied herself and continued toward the sofa, the short distance feeling like a marathon. Yu Xia silently dropped what she was holding and rushed over to support her frail, boneless roommate.

The moment Yu Xia’s hand brushed Zheng Yun’s arm, Zheng Yun clung to her, leaning into Yu Xia’s embrace. She was practically half-carried to the sofa.

Though it could be called a hug, Zheng Yun maintained precise control, keeping most of her weight on her arms while still pressing most of her body against Yu Xia. The scent of her hair, a mix of perfume and alcohol, tickled Yu Xia’s nose.

Yu Xia nearly laughed as she lowered Zheng Yun onto the sofa.

Zheng Yun immediately slumped back, half-reclining, clearly drifting into a drunken stupor.

The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom—Qi Shu was still bathing Chen Zhu.

Yu Xia turned back to the dining table, a sudden thought striking her.

Chen Zhu was too drunk, so Qi Shu gave her a bath.

If Zheng Yun is too drunk, who will bathe her?

Yu Xia paused mid-motion while clearing the dishes.

She had initially thought, I can just make do and sleep on the couch for one night. But then she remembered she was supposed to share a bed with Zheng Yun tonight. If Zheng Yun didn’t bathe, she would be uncomfortable herself. And how could Yu Xia possibly be comfortable sleeping next to a drunken, unwashed woman?

The more Yu Xia thought about it, the colder her expression became.

Should I just sleep on the couch then?

But the bed was hers. If anyone should sleep on the couch, it should be Zheng Yun. Why should Yu Xia be the one to suffer?

Her gaze drifted to the living room sofa, where a woman lay half-reclined in a beige dress. Her loosely pinned-up hair had come undone, a few strands falling across her delicate collarbones. Her slender neck looked easily encircled by a hand, and her peach-pink cheeks and the corners of her eyes, flushed with wine, seemed both alluring and languid under the warm yellow lamplight.

That sofa was barely long enough for a teenager, let alone a full-grown woman. Sleeping on it would be terribly uncomfortable.

Today was Sunday, and she had work tomorrow.

Zheng Yun was her work partner, and Zheng Yun’s efficiency directly impacted her own.

In the span of a few minutes, Yu Xia’s mind raced, calculating countless possible outcomes.

The sound of running water in the bathroom stopped, followed by the hum of a hairdryer.

By the time Yu Xia had finished tidying up, Qi Shu had finally managed to handle Chen Zhu. She carried Chen Zhu into Zheng Yun’s room, her own hair still damp. “Go wash up,” she said. “I’ll take care of things here.”

Yu Xia almost asked if tonight was a trap, but then she realized this was her territory. It wasn’t a trap; it was more like waiting for a rabbit to run into a snare.

She responded coldly and went to wake Zheng Yun, who was half-asleep on the sofa.

Zheng Yun sat up groggily, claiming she felt a bit more alert. She asked Yu Xia who should shower first.

Yu Xia breathed a sigh of relief. As long as Zheng Yun could move on her own, that was enough.

“You go first,” Yu Xia said.

Zheng Yun stumbled to her feet.

“Why don’t you go in with her?” Qi Shu suggested, her head bent as she wiped the table clean. “Otherwise, she might faint in the bathroom later. There’s a curtain for privacy—you can wash your hair while she showers.”

A brilliant idea.

If Yu Xia were just an observer, she might have applauded.

But she was a player in this game, and the suggestion felt like a bitter pill. This sense of being manipulated left a lump in her throat, making her deeply uneasy.

Just as she was about to refuse, she saw Zheng Yun, her steps unsteady, take two steps and lean against the cold wall. The fluorescent corridor lights cast Zheng Yun’s exposed skin in a ghastly white glow, making her look as fragile as porcelain—as if a gentle push could shatter her into a million pieces.

Yu Xia paused, then relented.

Fortunately, the shower went without incident. Though Zheng Yun frequently froze mid-wash, as if experiencing a momentary disconnection and reconnection, she managed to complete her shower.

Yu Xia rinsed her hair under the sink faucet and waited, dripping wet, for Zheng Yun to finish.

“Xiaxia,” Zheng Yun called out cautiously, “could you hand me a towel?”

Yu Xia clicked her tongue in annoyance, but then remembered Zheng Yun was drunk. The fact that she’d managed to shower herself at all was impressive. She grabbed Zheng Yun’s towel from the rack and passed it to her.

A dripping hand emerged from behind the shower curtain to take the towel from Yu Xia. After some rustling, Zheng Yun emerged with her hair still wet.

“I’m going to bed,” Zheng Yun yawned, utterly exhausted.

“Dry your hair,” Yu Xia reminded her.

“No need,” Zheng Yun rubbed her eyes. “I’m too tired.”

“You’re sleeping in my bed,” Yu Xia snapped, “and your wet hair will soak my pillow.”

Zheng Yun seemed to only now realize the implications. After a moment’s silence, she reached for the hairdryer, but Yu Xia silently snatched it away and began drying Zheng Yun’s hair herself.

She didn’t want Zheng Yun messing with electrical appliances in her drunken state.

The mirror was completely fogged over, obscuring their reflections. Yu Xia diligently dried Zheng Yun’s hair, completely missing the faint smile playing at the corner of Zheng Yun’s lips. There was no drunkard here.

By the time the fog cleared and Zheng Yun’s hair was mostly dry, she had reverted to her dazed state, nearly wandering into the wrong room.

Yu Xia, left with no other choice, decided to see this through. She took Zheng Yun by the arm and guided her into her own room before finally going to shower.

Qi Shu didn’t shower herself. After clearing the table and kitchen trash, she slipped downstairs to dispose of it while Yu Xia was showering. She returned just as Yu Xia finished.

Their eyes met. Yu Xia moved her lips, finally asking, “Did Chen Zhu know about this?”

She didn’t know the specifics of Zheng Yun and Qi Shu’s plan, but it was clearly more than just a simple dinner. There was no way a single meal could have led Zheng Yun to end up in her bed. She only wanted to know if Chen Zhu had been involved.

“No,” Qi Shu replied. A clever woman, she instantly understood Yu Xia’s question. After a pause, she added, “I only told her you two had been under a lot of stress lately and that drinking might help you relax.”

This wasn’t exactly a lie. Recent pressures had reached their peak, with the numerical planning team holding daily mini-meetings. The Lead Artist, after completing their own work, had to rotate through checking the progress and results of others. Passing by the Writing Team, one could hear the Team Lead asking, “What ancient Mary Sue romance are you writing? Can’t you write something more modern?”

Yu Xia withdrew her gaze. “Don’t deceive her.”

She trusted Chen Zhu would usually stand by her side. This was the very reason they had remained close friends for four years of college and continued their friendship after graduation. Yu Xia could accept Chen Zhu being blinded by love, but she couldn’t tolerate Qi Shu actively deceiving her.

“I wouldn’t,” Qi Shu sighed, assuring her. “I only told her you were under a lot of stress.”

Yu Xia scrutinized Qi Shu’s expression, as if verifying the truthfulness of her words. Satisfied, she turned and left, returning to her room.

The overhead light remained off, leaving only the bedside lamp illuminated, casting a soft glow on one side of the bed.

The air conditioner hummed quietly, while the electric mosquito repellent at the foot of the bed glowed. The gray bedspread and sheets were clean yet oppressive, revealing a delicate, pale face curled up under the covers. Her eyes were tightly shut, and her brow furrowed slightly, as if enduring some discomfort.

Yu Xia had originally planned to sleep on the sofa.

She found it impossible to share a bed with Zheng Yun.

She had been desperately avoiding any situation that might trigger memories of the past, fearing that those beautiful memories would resurface, diluting the pain of their separation and blurring the painful memories.

She couldn’t betray the version of herself who had tossed and turned sleeplessly through countless nights, relying on medication to fall asleep.

Yet Zheng Yun seemed oblivious, repeatedly tempting her to repeat their past mistakes.

Sharing meals with mutual friends, for example, or sharing a bed.

Yu Xia stood by the door for what felt like an eternity. By the time Qi Shu had finished washing up, dried her hair, and retreated to her room, the world had grown quiet, leaving only the hum of the air conditioner and the long, steady breaths of the person in bed.

As the night deepened, Yu Xia’s feet began to ache. She sat down on the edge of the bed.

She wasn’t one to procrastinate. From childhood, she had always been proactive, completing her homework within the first few days of any vacation. In college, she always submitted her assignments ahead of schedule, barring any emergencies, and even her final exam cramming was rarely last-minute.

Yet tonight, she found herself delaying sleep for a full half-hour over a single decision.

Yu Xia had just sat down when a hand gripped her wrist. Zheng Yun drowsily opened her eyes and whispered, “Do you mind… sleeping with me?”

Her eyelids were so heavy she could barely keep them open. After uttering a few words, she would drift back to sleep, struggling to stay awake and talk to Yu Xia.

“If you really mind… I’ll go sleep on the sofa,” Zheng Yun said, trying to sit up.

Yu Xia pressed her shoulder down. “Just sleep.”

Zheng Yun refused to close her eyes until Yu Xia lay down beside her, only then drifting off to sleep.

The bed was only 1.5 meters wide, just enough for two adults to fit comfortably, leaving little room to turn over. Yu Xia tried to keep as far away from Zheng Yun as possible, but there was only one blanket, and she kept the air conditioning set low. If she moved too far away, one of them would end up uncovered.

Yu Xia estimated the maximum distance she could maintain and lay quietly, deeply aware that her current situation with Zheng Yun resembled that of a married couple with a child. The cup was their child, binding two women with no affection for each other, neither able to leave.

She was sleepless again.

The last time she had insomnia was the year Zheng Yun abruptly left without a word, right after Yu Xia had returned to school.

Before, when people told her about insomnia, she had never experienced it herself. She had always thought they simply weren’t tired enough to sleep at night.

It wasn’t until it happened to her that she truly understood what it meant to be utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally. Every cell in her body screamed with fatigue and weariness, yet she couldn’t fall asleep even with her eyes closed. Memories flashed through her mind like a carousel of images, and only by keeping her eyes open could she escape the torment of those thoughts.

So she carried her stool to the hallway and began to draw. The confession wall buzzed with posts mocking her, praising her, and anonymously advising her, wave after wave. She became even more famous than she had been during her freshman year. Even students from neighboring universities knew about the beautiful “study queen” at their art school who stayed up all night sketching, rumored to be earning her own living expenses because her family couldn’t afford them.

Some wealthy women even offered to pay for her.

Only she knew the real reason.

The sketches weren’t the goal; she simply couldn’t bear to lie in bed, tossing and turning, thinking about Zheng Yun. About the white gauze curtains billowing in the spring breeze on the third floor, the kitten they had found together, the restaurants they had eaten at, the riverbank where they had strolled.

About the orange that had started it all.

For a long time, she barely resembled a normal person. She slept only three or four hours a day, dragging her stool back to the dorm only when her eyes refused to stay open. Any noise in the room would wake her, and she would immediately get up and return to the studio to work on her assignments.

Back then, her roommates would tiptoe to the empty dorm next door to wash up on days Yu Xia didn’t have class, so she could sleep a little longer. Chen Zhu, worried Yu Xia would wear herself out, bought a mountain of health supplements online, earning teasing from their roommates about prematurely entering middle age.

Yu Xia was deeply grateful to her roommates. During that year of inner turmoil, she received more kindness from outsiders than ever before.

Gradually, she let go.

These were the lessons Zheng Yun had taught her: how to accept kindness from others reasonably and reciprocate in appropriate ways, instead of wrapping herself up like an onion, each layer peeled away leaving everyone in tears.

Years later, Yu Xia came across a quote online:

The parts of me you changed will stay with me forever, a constant reminder of you.

This was Zheng Yun’s legacy to her.

Yet Yu Xia’s hatred for Zheng Yun only deepened. She hated her for coming into her world, sowing seeds and nurturing life, only to leave behind a devastating drought, with only the seeds buried deepest surviving.

She couldn’t bring herself to say, “If you were going to leave, you shouldn’t have come at all.” Zheng Yun had genuinely taught her valuable lessons, helping her integrate into society step by step.

Yet every time she thought of the past, it felt like her heart was being torn out.

She couldn’t let go, yet she couldn’t bring herself to hate Zheng Yun completely.

So she ended up hating herself instead.

Now, Zheng Yun lay beside her as if nothing had happened, her breathing steady, sharing the same blanket.

Yu Xia didn’t know how to act.

Lost in thought, she felt a warm body press against her.

First, Zheng Yun’s arms wrapped around her, then her legs encircled Yu Xia’s. Zheng Yun held her tightly, as if she were a body pillow, her soft br3asts pressed against Yu Xia’s arm, warm breath ghosting across her shoulder.

Too intimate. Yu Xia almost shoved her away.

But she didn’t.

She knew this was Zheng Yun’s habit—she always slept with something to hold. It used to be pillows and blankets; later, it was Yu Xia.

Yu Xia didn’t reach for her phone, so she didn’t know what time it was. Her mind wandered aimlessly. Should I just get up and go to the office to work on the draft?

The arm around her tightened slightly, pulling her closer.

Her cold arm, which had been uncovered, was now warming up, almost feverishly hot.

Yu Xia finally focused her thoughts on Zheng Yun and realized something was off.

This wasn’t Zheng Yun’s usual sleeping breathing pattern.

The thought made Yu Xia laugh at herself. Who remembers their ex’s sleeping habits after three years apart?

“Can you let go?” Yu Xia asked.

Her throat, hoarse from sleeplessness and prolonged silence, carried a hint of menace in its low rasp.

“You’re troubled,” Zheng Yun said firmly, clinging to Yu Xia like a kangaroo.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Zheng Yun insisted. “If you weren’t, you would have noticed I was pretending to be asleep long ago.”

Yu Xia was momentarily speechless.

“I’ve noticed now. Can you let go?” Yu Xia asked politely, though her tone betrayed her annoyance.

“Can you tell me about it?” Zheng Yun persisted, refusing to release her grip.

“There’s no need,” Yu Xia said, realizing Zheng Yun wasn’t going to budge. She prepared to forcefully push her away.

“Is it about me?” Zheng Yun cut to the chase.

Yu Xia didn’t answer, merely removed Zheng Yun’s arm from her body and shoved her away.

“If you’re not drunk, go sleep on the sofa,” Yu Xia said, issuing an eviction notice.

“I’ve metabolized the alcohol. I’m sober now,” Zheng Yun said, sitting up. “Xiaxia.”

“Hmm?” Yu Xia wondered if she hadn’t had insomnia in a while. Her mind felt so foggy that she was actually having a civil conversation with her ex-girlfriend in the same bed.

“If you just think I’m attractive,” Zheng Yun said, carefully choosing her words, “we can be fvck buddies.”

Yu Xia rubbed her temples. “Do you even know what you’re saying?” she retorted.

Zheng Yun nodded.

Yu Xia laughed derisively. “What makes you think I’d agree? Do you really think I’m that obsessed with your face?”

In the darkness, Zheng Yun grabbed Yu Xia’s hand and pressed it to her own face.

“You like it,” Zheng Yun said with absolute certainty.

Both she and Yu Xia were visual creatures; initial attraction was paramount. Zheng Yun had fallen for Yu Xia first, and Yu Xia had reciprocated.

Yu Xia was speechless.

Zheng Yun was undeniably beautiful—so much so that Yu Xia had to steel herself to speak harshly to her. But Zheng Yun’s words acted like a fuse, igniting the anger that had been simmering beneath her sleeplessness.

Yu Xia seized Zheng Yun’s arm, her grip so tight that Zheng Yun let out a muffled groan.

“Debasing yourself to this extent… do you find it amusing?” Yu Xia demanded, her voice trembling with fury. Her heart pounded so loudly in the night that she barely noticed.

“As long as I can stay by your side, what does it matter?” Zheng Yun’s laugh was tinged with desperation, her expression hidden by the darkness. Only a faint sob betrayed her anguish. “It’s not like it’s anyone else.”