After the Online Romance with the Campus Beauty Roommate Went Wrong - Chapter 19

After messaging Jian Chenyu, Sang Shi’an planned to invite Su Ningyue out for a late-night snack, hoping to get an autograph from a celebrity under the Su Family’s entertainment company for a junior sister.

As she crossed the living room, Jian Chenyu, who was working on documents, stopped her. “Still hungry?”

Sang Shi’an froze, then turned to see Jian Chenyu pouring water in the pantry, her coat clutched around her.

Sang Shi’an: ???

What the hell? How did Jian Chenyu know she was going out for a late-night snack?

Could she have seen her messages on her alternate account and already figured out it was her?

No, that’s impossible.

She had disguised her voice, and there were no identifiable features in her room. Most importantly—on her alternate account, she was completely submissive to Jian Chenyu, a stark contrast to her usual self. Jian Chenyu would have to be insane to connect her to that account.

Sang Shi’an quickly regained her composure. “Do you know anyone in the Student Union?”

“I don’t interact with them,” Jian Chenyu replied, walking over with her coffee cup. “I just noticed you often go out for late-night snacks around this time.”

Sang Shi’an pulled up her call history, tapped on an unfamiliar, unlisted missed call, and flashed it briefly in front of Jian Chenyu. “The delivery station just called. They said a package is missing and I need to go pick it up.”

I’m definitely not that suitor who’s going out for a late-night snack because he didn’t eat enough dinner.

Jian Chenyu returned to her desk, gathered her hair into a low ponytail with a hair tie, smiled, and said, “Alright then.”

Sang Shi’an was pleased with her practicality and lack of prying.

“Since you’re not going out for a late-night snack, come back early,” Jian Chenyu said. “It might snow later.”

“Mhm, mhm, mhm, mhm, mhm, mhm,” Sang Shi’an hummed in agreement.

Jian Chenyu’s gaze returned to the screen, a fleeting smile flickering in her light-colored eyes.

As Sang Shi’an entered the elevator, she texted Su Ningyue: I accidentally told Jian Chenyu on my alt account that I was going out for a late-night snack. I’m worried she’ll get suspicious if I leave now. Let’s reschedule for another day.

Su Ningyue didn’t mind being stood up: It’s no big deal for me, just wanted to hang out. But what about you? Didn’t you say you were still hungry after dinner?

The elevator’s signal was poor, and Sang Shi’an only received the message when she reached the ground floor. She pursed her lips and typed: I’ll just stay hungry.

Su Ningyue immediately sent a sympathetic emoji.

The temperature had indeed dropped outside. The wind that greeted Sang Shi’an as she stepped out of the building stung her ears. She wrapped her coat tighter and deliberately detoured to the courier station, waiting two minutes before heading back.

On her way back, Sang Shi’an switched her WeChat account to her Cat Cat persona and saw that Jian Chenyu had replied seven minutes earlier: Preferences vary; it depends on the clothes.

Busy today.

So she’s too busy to care about me, but has time to look at clothes?

Is it really about preferences? Isn’t it just about how pretty or revealing the clothes are?

Remembering their last video call, Sang Shi’an suddenly felt the wind wasn’t so cold after all.

But she still needed to reply. Annoyed, she typed out each word deliberately: Older Sister is so amazing! Unlike me, who just lies in bed after class, thinking about you.

Did you miss my message about that fortune teller? When I saw him today, everyone around said he was incredibly accurate. Guess what I asked him?

Jian Chenyu’s reply was as aloof as ever: ?

Sang Shi’an: Guess, please?

Jian Chenyu: No.

Sang Shi’an took a deep breath, thinking, Jian Chenyu isn’t usually this annoying.

But no matter—she could play along.

I asked about my love luck!

And the master said my true love has already appeared and is connected to me!

Older Sister, do you think he’s accurate?

After sending the message, Sang Shi’an verified her fingerprint and pushed open the door.

Hearing the commotion, Jian Chenyu turned to her. “Did you find the package?”

“No, I’ve already contacted the seller. The courier company will compensate them, and they’ll resend it,” Sang Shi’an replied, changing her shoes and walking straight inside without looking around.

Jian Chenyu called after her, “Want to have hotpot?”

Sang Shi’an stopped in her tracks, her expression clearly skeptical. “Now?”

“I ordered the ingredients. When I asked if you were hungry earlier, I was hoping you’d join me. If you’re not busy, come eat with me,” Jian Chenyu said, glancing at her phone. “It should be here in about ten minutes.”

Sang Shi’an was indeed hungry, but she wasn’t Cat Cat anymore, so she could afford to be picky. “Which place is it? I don’t like those bland, health-focused hotpots.”

Jian Chenyu named the restaurant. “The reviews say it’s quite clean. I ordered a yin-yang broth—do you want some?”

Sang Shi’an immediately changed direction and headed for the dining table. “I’ll go get some drinks.”

Watching Sang Shi’an’s sudden change of heart, Jian Chenyu couldn’t help but chuckle.

As Sang Shi’an opened the refrigerator, Jian Chenyu stepped over and pressed her hand against the door. “No cold drinks tonight. Get something from the cabinet.”

Standing so close, Jian Chenyu’s voice brushed against Sang Shi’an’s ear like a spring breeze melting snow. Sang Shi’an murmured an “okay,” surprisingly not arguing, and walked to the cabinet where the drinks were stored. “Which one do you want?”

Jian Chenyu glanced at the options and said, “The same as yours.”

Just as they finished setting out the tableware, the doorbell rang. The hotpot base and ingredients had arrived.

When Sang Shi’an saw that the hotpot packaging was indeed from the place Jian Chenyu had mentioned, she blurted out, “Jian Chenyu, you’re such a good person!”

“If you don’t know how to compliment someone, don’t bother.”

Sang Shi’an huffed, “I mean it sincerely.”

Jian Chenyu didn’t call her out on it. He took out the disposable hotpot utensils from the delivery bag, arranged them neatly, and began unpacking the ingredients. As Sang Shi’an scanned the dishes, her eyes suddenly lit up. “You even ordered crayfish!”

Jian Chenyu pulled out the packaging box, peeled off the receipt stuck to the outer bag, and explained, “The restaurant had a promotion—it was a free gift for spending over a certain amount.”

Sang Shi’an urged, “Free or not, I love crayfish! Hurry up and get it out!”

Jian Chenyu placed the crayfish beside the pot, silently crumpled the receipt in his palm, and tossed it into the trash.

Impatient with Jian Chenyu’s slow pace, Sang Shi’an took over. “You’re not used to unpacking takeout. Be careful not to spill the broth on your clothes. Let me handle this.”

Jian Chenyu sat down. Sang Shi’an, showing a rare moment of consideration, asked before adding anything to the pot, “Which one should I put in first?”

“You decide.”

“Didn’t you say you were a little hungry?”

Jian Chenyu leaned back in her chair, her low ponytail loosening, wisps of hair drifting across her cheek and tickling the corner of her eye. “I had too much coffee earlier. I don’t feel hungry now.”

“…” Not eating is such a waste. I won’t hold back.

Sang Shi’an added a few slices of meat from each plate to the hot pot. Noticing Jian Chenyu’s gaze fixed on her, she waved her chopsticks. “If you’re not eating, at least do some work. The aroma might stimulate your appetite.”

“Alright.” Jian Chenyu put on disposable gloves, pulled a crawfish closer, and began peeling it.

The moment the crawfish shell cracked open, a pungent, spicy aroma filled the air—clearly too intense for Jian Chenyu’s tolerance. She placed the peeled meat back into the broth, its intended recipient obvious.

Sang Shi’an felt a little awkward. “Did you poison the hot pot or something?”

“I did,” Jian Chenyu replied softly.

Sang Shi’an froze, the crawfish meat she’d just picked up dangling between her chopsticks. She stared blankly.

Jian Chenyu chuckled softly, quickly backtracking. “Just kidding. I couldn’t just sit here and watch you wait for your appetite to return, could I? And you can’t peel crawfish with your hands full. I just happened to be free.”

Oh, so she was just trying to distract me by peeling crawfish.

She didn’t want to be stared at constantly either.

Sang Shi’an immediately felt relieved of her guilt and began eating one shrimp after another, after all, wasting food was shameful.

After eating about a third of her fill, Sang Shi’an suggested, “Then I’ll make you a non-spicy dipping sauce as thanks.”

Jian Chenyu was changing her gloves, the tips of her slender nails stained with red chili oil, resembling cat’s-eye patterns that shimmered under the crystal chandelier.

Unfortunately, the next moment they were wiped clean with a tissue.

Sang Shi’an watched Jian Chenyu open her phone, switch to WeChat, and reply to a message. From a distance, the profile picture of the person she was messaging seemed to be the black-and-white ragdoll cat she had chosen.

A sudden wave of irritation surged through her.

What was Jian Chenyu doing? Messaging some ambiguous online acquaintance right in front of Sang Shiyue’s sister?

It was clear Jian Chenyu hadn’t learned anything worthwhile during her four years abroad.

The lobster lost its flavor. Sang Shi’an jabbed her serving chopsticks into the hot pot, stirring them around as if washing them, until the splashing broth landed on Jian Chenyu’s phone screen.

Jian Chenyu’s eyelids flickered up, her gaze freezing for a moment. “What are you doing?”

Caught, Sang Shi’an stirred the chopsticks again. “What’s it to you?”

Jian Chenyu narrowed her eyes, silently studying her.

Under that intense gaze, Sang Shi’an inexplicably recalled Jian Chenyu’s possessive tone during their WeChat conversations, and a growing discomfort stirred within her. “When I eat hotpot with others, there aren’t so many rules. They let me drink ice-cold beer, and someone even takes the initiative to pick food for me.”

“Pick food for you?” Jian Chenyu repeated, her tone sharp. “Who’s being so attentive?”

Sang Shi’an frowned. “What does it matter who? So many people like me—how am I supposed to remember them all?”

“Weren’t all those who liked you rejected?” Jian Chenyu’s tone was subtly pointed.

Sang Shi’an: ……

She finally realized this hotpot dinner was nothing more than a trap.

Neither the hotpot nor the crayfish tasted good anymore.

Jian Chenyu abruptly changed the subject. “Are you used to having people pick food for you at hotpot?”

Of course not.

Sang Shi’an only ate hotpot with her closest friends, let alone having someone constantly pick meat for her.

It wasn’t like her hands were broken.

Jian Chenyu’s tone grew stern, and Sang Shi’an, who had been trying to play the role of “Cat Cat” and suppress her anger, finally snapped. “None of your business!”

Jian Chenyu frowned again, her gaze shifting from Sang Shi’an’s defiant eyes to her reddened lips, lingering for a moment before returning to her eyes.

Just when Sang Shi’an braced herself for another lecture, Jian Chenyu stood up. “You eat first. I have something to take care of. Just leave some vegetables for me later.”

The atmosphere suddenly turned strange. Sang Shi’an, who had been planning to seize an opportunity to start a loud argument, stared blankly as Jian Chenyu left the table. “You…”

Jian Chenyu turned back. “Is there something else?”

“Then… should I still make your dipping sauce?” Sang Shi’an asked uncertainly, wondering if she had angered Jian Chenyu.

Though she had expressed some dissatisfaction earlier, she had only intended to exchange a few sharp words, not drive Jian Chenyu away.

After all, Jian Chenyu had ordered the hot pot. What right did she, a freeloader, have to hog the meal?

But Jian Chenyu seemed to have urgent business. She hastily left with a quick “Thank you for your trouble.”

Sang Shi’an’s gaze followed her retreating figure until it was blocked by a decorative object.

She withdrew her gaze, set aside portions of each ingredient on the table, and began preparing Jian Chenyu’s dipping sauce.

She deliberately avoided adding chili peppers, opting for a mild, conventional flavor.

The hot pot continued to simmer diligently, its fragrant steam filling the air. Sang Shi’an sighed, pulled out her phone, and decided to find a video to watch while she ate.

When she unlocked the screen, she noticed a WeChat message from a few minutes earlier.

She was currently logged in to her Cat Cat account, the one she had forgotten to switch back to her main account.

It should be pretty accurate.

Above this message was her earlier question: Then the fortune-teller said my true love has already appeared and is in contact with me! Older Sister, do you think he’s accurate?

Sang Shi’an was momentarily stunned.

Another message from Jian Chenyu arrived: As the person involved, you should know best.

Sang Shi’an’s chopsticks clattered onto the table. What did Jian Chenyu mean by those two sentences? Was it a yes or a no?

Sang Shi’an recalled a player friend from middle school who had dated countless people—at least eighty, if not a hundred. That friend used to treat her suitors exactly like this in bars:

You should know what I’m thinking. As the person involved, you should know best.

Pressing her temples, Sang Shi’an tried to remember what happened to that friend afterward, but the outcome remained elusive.

Switching back to her main account, Sang Shi’an found the friend in her contacts and sent a message: The guy who confessed to you at Bar Week Ten last time—did you ever say yes to him?

Friend: Which one? So many guys have confessed to me at Bar Week Ten.

That day held particular significance for Sang Shi’an—it was the night she and Jian Chenyu were photographed together.

November 3rd, Yueyue’s birthday. You can’t have forgotten that, right?

Two minutes later, the friend replied: I remember. What’s up? Did he piss you off? Or are you interested in him? Should I tell him to come find you right now?

It was already ten at night. The fact that he was visiting her meant their relationship was quite close. Sang Shi’an typed: What time is it? How could you let your boyfriend come all the way to Yanjing University? It’s half the city away! Just asking, never mind.

This time, her friend replied almost instantly: Wait, wait, wait! Who said he’s my boyfriend? We’ve just been hanging out a lot lately. Don’t make up stories like that—you’ll ruin my reputation!

Sang Shi’an: ……

So her friend was still stringing him along as a potential romantic interest?

If she flipped the situation, was Jian Chenyu treating Cat Cat the same way?

The fleeting joy Sang Shi’an had felt at the prospect of completing her mission early vanished instantly. She switched back to her alt account and replied to Jian Chenyu: I wouldn’t be asking Older Sister if I knew!

Cat Cat looks pitiful.jpg

To her surprise, Jian Chenyu seemed to have been waiting for her reply, responding with rare speed: Figure it out yourself.

They continued to exchange the same cryptic messages back and forth. Sang Shi’an wasn’t angry; after all, her plan had never anticipated Jian Chenyu agreeing so quickly.

What concerned her now was something else entirely:

Jian Chenyu had said she was dealing with an emergency.

So why did she have time to reply to Cat Cat’s messages so promptly and repeatedly?

Could it be that the “matter to handle” was simply replying to Cat Cat’s messages?

Was replying to Cat Cat more important than arguing with her?

The thought flashed through Sang Shi’an’s mind, but she quickly suppressed the subtle emotions stirring within her, choosing to see it as a good sign.

She planned to provoke Jian Chenyu even further tonight.

Older Sister, are you busy right now? Can I show you my new clothes?

Mm.

Sang Shi’an pulled up several photos of cosplay outfits she’d bought at the Anime Convention. Having anticipated this moment, she’d already taken and edited the photos in advance, making it impossible to tell they were taken in her room.

She sent five photos in quick succession. Older Sister, see if you like any of these?

While Jian Chenyu was browsing, Sang Shi’an casually added: I’m so full from the barbecue earlier. I even saw an assistant from that super popular model come to buy food. Her figure is amazing! If it were me in the past, I’d definitely have asked for a photo.

Not today?

Nope. My mind’s been completely occupied with Older Sister’s body. I’m immune to everyone else now.

When will Older Sister finally accept me? I miss you so much, I want to hold you so badly it aches in my bones.

Am I being annoying? I really can’t help myself.

Older Sister, please don’t hate me. And don’t give others a chance to hate me either.

Jian Chenyu: [Quoted Message]

Sang Shi’an’s gaze froze. She realized Jian Chenyu had dragged her first video from the dead chat history.

Jian Chenyu: Others wouldn’t do this.

Sang Shi’an gritted her teeth as she typed: ……Okay.

Then I can relax.

Right at the two-minute mark, Sang Shi’an withdrew all the photos of her beautiful dresses.

Jian Chenyu sent a question mark.

Sang Shi’an: I was just showing you my wardrobe, Older Sister. I’ve already changed into something else.

She planned to wear her previous outfit tonight, determined to keep Jian Chenyu on tenterhooks.

Jian Chenyu: Alright.

Sang Shi’an: My signal’s a bit weak here. Let me check the connection speed first. Wait a moment, Older Sister.

Jian Chenyu: Okay.

Having finished her meal, Sang Shi’an set down her chopsticks and returned to her room, remembering to lock the door behind her.

Practice makes perfect. This time, she managed to put on the nine-tailed fox demon outfit in under ten minutes. One of the tails, crushed in the closet, had come loose, its seams nearly torn.

Sang Shi’an simply cut it off.

Masked and ready, she sent Jian Chenyu a video call request.

Jian Chenyu still hadn’t turned on her camera. The screen only showed her neck down, and even her long, flowing hair was a golden wig.

Sang Shi’an skillfully raised her voice, explaining her lateness to Jian Chenyu, “Older Sister, I’m so sorry for making you wait. My internet bill is probably expiring soon, causing signal fluctuations. I’ve switched to 5G now.”

Jian Chenyu responded with a faint acknowledgment, then fell silent.

Unable to see Jian Chenyu, Sang Shi’an couldn’t tell if she was being watched intently or if Jian Chenyu was doing something else, only glancing at the screen occasionally.

She awkwardly leaned forward, extending her paw-padded hand to wave at the screen, letting out a barely audible “Meow~.”

Jian Chenyu’s voice sounded uncertain, “Cat Cat?”

“Does Older Sister not like my outfit today? You kept me around last time because of this dress. I thought you’d like it.” Sang Shi’an’s voice carried a hint of pitifulness.

She waved her paw again, mimicking a cat trying to please its owner. With her legs kneeling and spread apart, her ornate upper body was fully displayed. Even the slightest movement caused the jewels along the golden threads to sway in cascading motions.

As long as Jian Chenyu was looking at her phone screen, her gaze would follow Sang Shi’an’s every move.

Whenever Sang Shi’an saw herself on the screen, her ears would betray her by flushing crimson.

But this time, she was fully clothed, leaving her feeling less exposed. She was about to perform a Cat Cat routine for Jian Chenyu, mimicking the feline’s gestures of seeking affection from its owner, when Jian Chenyu suddenly spoke from the other end of the line: “Tilt the camera down. Let me see your legs.”

Sang Shi’an trembled. The last time Jian Chenyu had used that tone with her, she’d nearly lost half her life.

She had thought that was the limit of their online relationship.

Yet here, on only their second call, Jian Chenyu was making such a demand again.

Just her legs?

Nothing else?

Sang Shi’an lowered the camera by a few centimeters. The frame, which had previously only captured her waist, now revealed half of her thighs.

Before Jian Chenyu could speak again, Sang Shi’an quickly turned in a half-circle, trying to divert her attention. “Older Sister, do you like my tail? A witch told me today that if I gave her a tail, she’d give me the most beautiful dress in the world. So, right before our call, I cut it off…”

Following her script, Sang Shi’an reached for the poorly made tail that had fallen off earlier, intending to show it to Jian Chenyu. But Jian Chenyu interrupted her: “Are you hurt?”

Sang Shi’an nodded, picking up her script. “Yes, but it’s all worth it for my older sister. I want to wear the prettiest dress and dance for you. Would you like that?”

Jian Chenyu: “Spread your legs a little wider, Cat Cat.”

Sang Shi’an: ?

Sang Shi’an didn’t move, pretending not to hear as she continued fiddling with her fluffy tail.

The second command came immediately after, her voice deepening with a hint of impatience and authority: “Spread your legs wider. Do you want to be punished?”

Caught off guard, Sang Shi’an froze, instinctively obeying in an instant.

The cat demon accessories on her body jingled again, prompting Sang Shi’an to immediately try to cover them.

A soft chuckle came from the phone, her breathing seeming to slow. “The dress isn’t disturbed.”

Sang Shi’an glanced down. The dress was indeed securely in place. She sighed in relief. “Older Sister, I…”

Jian Chenyu seemed to take a sip of water; the sound of a lid being unscrewed carried through the close proximity.

“Did you apply the medicine?”

Seeing that Jian Chenyu wasn’t making any further demands, Sang Shi’an quickly replied, “Yes, yes! I applied it right after I cut off my tail.”

She pinched her throat to make her voice sound even more high-pitched. “Does Older Sister want to see?”

A soft tapping sound came from the other end of the phone.

Tap, tap.

The rhythmic pauses between the taps felt like a premonitory alarm.

The voice deepened.

“I asked—did you apply medicine to your leg?”

Sang Shi’an lowered her gaze, confused, until she noticed the red marks on her inner thigh, left by the leg ring that secured her clothing. Several days had passed since she last wore this outfit, and the red marks had faded to a faint blue. But now, after putting it on again, fresh marks had reappeared in the same spot.

The mix of blue and red, under the bright light, made the marks look particularly raw against her pale skin.

So, when Jian Chenyu said she wanted to see my leg, she meant she wanted to see the injury?

The tapping sound resumed, betraying impatience.

But Sang Shi’an didn’t want to apply medicine.

The medicine was in the living room, requiring her to leave the bedroom to retrieve it.

What if Jian Chenyu happened to come out of her room at the same time…?

“Older Sister, I don’t have any medicine at home,” Sang Shi’an said. “I’ll buy some tomorrow, okay?”

The voice on the other end left no room for argument. “Tonight.”

Immediately afterward, a transfer of 500 yuan arrived.

Enough to hire a courier to fetch ointment from the 24-hour pharmacy at Yanjing University.

But Sang Shi’an couldn’t.

Even if she bought the ointment, she’d have to open the door to retrieve it, making it even easier for Jian Chenyu to see her.

Hesitating, she was about to concoct a flimsy excuse about her internet being down.

The next moment, a voice cut through the air: “Don’t hang up. Do you really want to be punished?”

The cold tone carried a hint of cruelty.

Sang Shi’an flinched involuntarily, as if she were truly there.

She reassured herself it was only because she feared Jian Chenyu would delete her as a friend.

“I think I might have some at home. Let me go check,” Sang Shi’an said, resigned. She threw on a loose bathrobe and crept out of her room.

She’d always avoided applying ointment to minor injuries, relying on her youth and good health to ensure no scars would remain.

Yet this time, she retrieved the ointment with unprecedented speed and locked the door behind her.

Picking up her phone, which had been lying face down, Sang Shi’an held the tube of ointment up to the camera. “Older Sister, I’ve got the ointment. Can I apply it now?”

Jian Chenyu acknowledged with a grunt.

Sang Shi’an secured her skirt, ensuring it wouldn’t reveal too much, then lowered the camera and unfastened the leg strap. The white ointment squeezed onto her leg wound, making the already reddened skin even more inflamed.

A sharp, stinging pain quickly erupted from the minor abrasions, and Sang Shi’an felt a sudden urge to slack off.

Jian Chenyu’s instructions began to fill her ears:

“A little further in.”

“Slow down.”

“Good girl, don’t flinch.”

The ointment was potent. Within a minute, Sang Shi’an couldn’t suppress two pained whimpers.

The person on the other end seemed to hear her, and the phone fell silent for a full five seconds.

“Hang in there, almost done.”

Sang Shi’an was delicate and couldn’t tolerate even the slightest discomfort.

A soft, whimpering sound escaped her lips again.

The voice returned.

In the quiet room, the phone speaker projected each word clearly into Sang Shi’an’s ears, making her earlobes tingle and flush as if the voice were whispering against her neck:

“Don’t make any noise, or else…”

Holding her breath, Sang Shi’an quickly finished applying the last bit of ointment and displayed the wound to the camera.

The call ended abruptly.

Even as air rushed back into her lungs, Sang Shi’an was still wondering:

Or else, what would happen?