After the Online Romance with the Campus Beauty Roommate Went Wrong - Chapter 3
After leaving, Jian Chenyu didn’t go to the pharmacy. Instead, she headed straight to the College of Chemistry, swiping her student ID to enter the laboratory with practiced ease.
The UK’s ‘3+1’ undergraduate-to-master’s program had allowed Jian Chenyu to earn her master’s degree in pharmacy early. Her degree from Yanjing University was essentially her second master’s.
Though renowned as the School Belle of the Department of Finance, Jian Chenyu had already received doctoral program offers from the College of Chemistry before the semester even began, based on her research achievements abroad. Yet, as the heir to the Jian Clan, she chose a field she wasn’t particularly skilled in.
The laboratory was filled with sealed test tubes containing various reagents. Jian Chenyu followed the sound of activity and stopped behind a busy figure.
“How’s it going? Any progress these past few days? Is this the latest experimental data?” Jian Chenyu asked, picking up a nearby report.
The other person paused, turned, and, recognizing Jian Chenyu, replied calmly, “I was at a conference the past few days. Both attempts today failed. This third one…”
As colorless liquid dripped into the mixture, the two reagents began to react.
The solution changed color, steamed, and finally emitted a burnt, smoky odor.
Another failure.
“Looks like your luck isn’t on your side today,” Jian Chenyu remarked.
She set down the experimental report, returned it to its place, and asked, “What about the paper? Are you still planning to publish it this month?”
The person across from her removed their protective goggles and pointed at Jian Chenyu, scolding with a smile, “Jian Chenyu, are you the professor here or am I? If your management courses are too easy, you can come do a PhD with me. I happen to need someone to manage projects.”
Jian Chenyu’s lips curved into a barely perceptible smile as she took a half-step back.
The person before her was Jian Chenyu’s aunt, Jian Zhiyan, a senior doctoral supervisor at Yanjing University.
When Jian Zhiyan first learned that Jian Chenyu was coming to Yanjing University, she scoured the PhD application lists, but couldn’t find Jian Chenyu’s name.
Later, she heard that Jian Chenyu had passed the graduate entrance exam for the Department of Finance. Publicly, she claimed it was suitable for her to take over the family company, but privately, she often cursed Jian Chenyu’s parents for wasting her talent.
Jian Chenyu shook her head. “No, my abilities are too shallow. If I mess up Professor Jian’s projects, I couldn’t bear the responsibility.”
“You’re afraid of messing up? Your cancer research on neutrophils has attracted so many pharmaceutical companies. Even those notoriously difficult old professors at the university want to take you on as a student,” Jian Zhiyan said, both amused and exasperated. “Alright, I won’t force you. It’s Tuesday today. What brings you to the lab?”
“You mentioned that newly formulated medicinal oil last time. Can I have a bottle?” Jian Chenyu asked.
The air suddenly went still.
Jian Zhiyan removed her gloves and stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “You came all the way from the business school just for a bottle of medicinal oil?”
There are plenty of pharmacies on Yanjing University’s campus. Was it really necessary?
Jian Chenyu remained calm and composed. “Didn’t you say it’s less irritating and has a milder scent than anything on the market?”
The laboratory grew even quieter.
“Yes, I formulated it myself. Of course it’s better than anything commercially available. I even had a perfumer create the fragrance,” Jian Zhiyan said, retrieving a light-resistant bottle from the reagent cabinet and handing it to Jian Chenyu.
“You have time to come here for medicinal oil, but not to help me with my project? If you weren’t a woman, I’d suspect you had some delicate little girlfriend to pamper.”
“Thanks, Auntie,” Jian Chenyu replied with a playful drawl and a smile. “I’ll come help you out this Sunday.”
When Jian Chenyu returned, Sang Shi’an was reviewing research papers. She was wearing a butter-yellow knitted cardigan over a white T-shirt, the loose tee tucked into matching shorts. As she lay sprawled on the sofa, the cardigan shifted, revealing her long, slender legs.
Footsteps approached from behind, and the sofa cushion dipped slightly. “Finished your paper?”
Sang Shi’an turned her head and saw Jian Chenyu holding an unlabeled medicine bottle. Remembering Jian Chenyu’s offer to help apply the ointment, her relaxed body tensed again. “No.”
Before Jian Chenyu could reach out, Sang Shi’an quietly scooted back. “…I can do it myself.”
Jian Chenyu raised her eyebrows slightly.
Sang Shi’an mumbled a flimsy excuse. “This medicine isn’t expired, is it?”
“No,” Jian Chenyu replied calmly.
Sang Shi’an stubbornly blocked Jian Chenyu’s hand. “There’s no label. Are you sure you grabbed the right bottle?”
Jian Chenyu didn’t bother explaining further. She simply unscrewed the cap, poured a small amount onto the back of her hand, and showed it to Sang Shi’an to prove the medicine was still within its expiration date.
The faint, refreshing scent of the ointment was nothing like the pungent musk she had imagined.
“Specially formulated fragrance. It’s not expired,” Jian Chenyu said, casually tucking a stray strand of long hair behind her ear. “Should I help you undress, or will you do it yourself?”
Sang Shi’an was speechless. “I already said I’ll do it myself.”
“This is medicated oil. It’ll be difficult for you to apply yourself,” Jian Chenyu said. “You won’t even accept a free massage? Are you afraid I’ll do something to you?”
Her tone was deliberately provocative, yet Sang Shi’an couldn’t swallow her pride. “Don’t be ridiculous. What do I have to fear from you?”
Jian Chenyu replied, “Then take off your clothes.”
Sang Shi’an tossed her jacket aside and swiftly rolled up her inner T-shirt, exposing her entire waist.
Under the dazzling crystal chandelier, her exposed skin gleamed like polished jade, save for a gruesome bruise clustered on her right side. Faint traces of unbroken capillaries were visible beneath the surface, silent and still.
The bottle of medicated oil was opened with a soft, abrupt sound as the palm rubbed against it. Soon, the oil-slicked hand pressed against her waist, the lines of her palm gradually becoming clearer.
The oil was massaged into the bruise, gradually warming and then burning.
Jian Chenyu gradually increased the pressure, forcibly kneading open the blocked meridians.
A bead of sweat coalesced and dripped onto Sang Shi’an’s reddened arm. There was no trace of the heavy musk scent in the air.
“Relax,” Jian Chenyu instructed, her tone calm yet commanding.
Sang Shi’an couldn’t resist glancing back. Jian Chenyu’s long hair had been tied up, leaving only a few strands framing her face. The minty scent of the medicinal oil masked her usual clean, cool fragrance.
As if sensing her gaze, Jian Chenyu’s eyes shifted and locked onto hers.
Her pale eyes, usually light, were now unusually dark and intense, almost viscous in the dim light.
Sang Shi’an nearly sat up immediately.
“Don’t move. Almost done,” Jian Chenyu said, pressing down slightly on the bruised area. Sang Shi’an obediently lay back down.
Fortunately, Jian Chenyu was telling the truth. Half a minute later, she stopped her movements and placed both hands flat on Sang Shi’an’s injured area to help the oil absorb.
Once the oil was fully absorbed, Jian Chenyu released her and stood up. “The oil will stain your clothes. I’ll get a towel.”
Sang Shi’an mumbled in response, “Mm.”
Her gaze drifted to the coffee table, where a delicate jade bracelet lay. The quality of the jade made it clear this was one of those overpriced auction finds.
Sang Shi’an had always thought jade bracelets were relics favored by older generations, something only wealthy fools would buy.
The medicinal ointment on Sang Shi’an’s lower back began to penetrate her skin, causing a burning, stinging sensation. Unable to bear it, she reached back to touch it, only to find her hand covered in oil.
When Jian Chenyu returned with a damp towel, Sang Shi’an’s mischievous side took over. She suddenly pretended to slip forward, as if she hadn’t been lying steadily.
As expected, Jian Chenyu instinctively reached out to steady her.
Sang Shi’an seized the opportunity to grasp Jian Chenyu’s hand.
The hand, with its distinct knuckles, felt surprisingly soft against her palm. The warmth radiating from Jian Chenyu’s palm was unexpectedly comforting, a stark contrast to her cool demeanor.
After smearing the medicinal oil onto Jian Chenyu’s hand, Sang Shi’an immediately released her grip, offering a perfunctory “Thanks.”
Jian Chenyu acknowledged her with a nod. As she rose, a few strands of her long hair fell across her chest. She instinctively reached to brush them behind her shoulder, but paused midway, instead wiping her hand with the damp towel.
The medicinal oil proved difficult to remove completely, especially from hands that demanded meticulous cleanliness.
Jian Chenyu’s previously clean palm now felt greasy, mirroring the oily residue on Sang Shi’an’s hand.
Sang Shi’an immediately turned her head away, suppressing the grin that threatened to break through her composure.
“Last night when I came to pick you up, your friend told me you accidentally bumped your lower back against the table edge after drinking too much,” Jian Chenyu suddenly explained while rubbing the remaining medicinal oil into Sang Shi’an’s lower back.
Sang Shi’an was slightly surprised and responded with an ambiguous hum.
In a rare moment of good spirits, she praised, “This medicinal oil is really effective. It works so quickly! No wonder it’s a Jian Clan product—it’s definitely top-quality. When it goes on the market, I’ll definitely buy a few bottles to stock up.”
Just then, the doorbell rang at the perfect moment. Sang Shi’an immediately got up to answer it, revealing her fried chicken order.
Hearing the commotion, Jian Chenyu glanced at her sideways.
Sang Shi’an vaguely remembered being lectured by Jian Chenyu the last time she ordered bubble tea, with Jian Chenyu warning her that the frozen chicken nuggets were soaked in various chemicals, making the entire drink seem like a breeding ground for bacteria.
Sang Shi’an quickly hid the fried chicken behind her back. Jian Chenyu coldly withdrew her gaze and resumed replying to messages on her phone.
It was probably just more work-related messages. After living together for two months, Sang Shi’an had watched many of Jian Chenyu’s suitors lose interest, yet she never saw any sign of Jian Chenyu reciprocating their feelings.
The study clearly wasn’t in her favor today. Sang Shi’an decided to retreat to her room to work on her thesis.
Between Su Ningyue’s and Jian Chenyu’s computers, Sang Shi’an inexplicably chose Jian Chenyu’s.
Jian Chenyu’s desktop was spotless, as clean as a brand-new machine. Only after opening the Launchpad did Sang Shi’an find the Office software. She typed “On the Risks and Rewards of Venture Capital” in the first line, centered.
The clock struck five in the afternoon. Warm, golden sunlight streamed through the window as Sang Shi’an typed the final period, submitting her paper to Professor Xu’s email just before the deadline.
The bruise on her lower back began to ache faintly again. Now that the paper was finished, Sang Shi’an couldn’t even sit still. Her whole body felt uncomfortable, and she was so exhausted she just wanted to close her eyes and sleep. She completely forgot about her dinner plans with Su Ningyue and returning the computer.
An hour later, at six o’clock, Su Ningyue, unable to reach Sang Shi’an, went to her dorm room to check on her. Since the start of their second year, Su Ningyue had known about Sang Shi’an’s strained relationship with her roommate. To avoid conflict, this was her first time visiting.
Jian Chenyu opened the door. Su Ningyue immediately stood up straight and greeted her politely, “Senior Sister Jian… I’m here to see Sang Shi’an.”
Jian Chenyu sized her up. “And you are?”
Su Ningyue slowly said, “Ah, I’m Su Ningyue, Sang Shi’an’s classmate. We often eat together. May I come in?”
Jian Chenyu found the name familiar and casually asked, “Do you know Su Ning Shang?”
“She’s… my older sister, in a way.” The Su Family’s history was no secret in their social circle: twenty years ago, they had mistakenly switched their youngest daughters at birth. Su Ningyue was the imposter heiress who had been raised as the family’s true daughter.
Unlike the melodramatic novels where such situations lead to bitter inheritance disputes, the Su Family was now entirely controlled by Su Ning Shang. Having been raised by Su Ning Shang since childhood, their bond had long transcended mere bl00d ties.
Jian Chenyu nodded and stepped aside. “Come in. An’an is in her room, working on her thesis.”
Hearing the nickname, Su Ningyue stumbled slightly, her surprised expression lingering for a moment before Jian Chenyu’s sharp eyes caught it. “Is there something else?”
Su Ningyue’s perception of Jian Chenyu was entirely based on Sang Shi’an’s descriptions: a mix of eccentric traits and an aloof, unapproachable aura. Naturally, she didn’t dare say more and quickly lowered her head. “No, no, I was just looking for slippers.”
Jian Chenyu naturally didn’t have time to help her find slippers. “No need to change shoes. The housekeeper will clean up later.”
“Oh, okay, okay,” Su Ningyue finally managed to shake off Jian Chenyu and hurried toward Sang Shi’an’s room.
It was dinnertime, and Su Ningyue had expected to find Sang Shi’an exhausted and ravenous. Instead, she found Sang Shi’an already asleep. After calling her name twice with no response, Su Ningyue draped a blanket over her and left the room.
Jian Chenyu had just poured a glass of water when Su Ningyue emerged so quickly. “Aren’t you two going out to eat?” he asked, puzzled.
“She seems a bit unwell,” Su Ningyue replied, still slightly intimidated by Jian Chenyu. “Probably still recovering from last night’s drinking. She’s still asleep, so I’ll just go eat by myself.”
Jian Chenyu stopped her. “Is that your laptop she borrowed earlier? Take it with you.”
Su Ningyue reluctantly followed Jian Chenyu back inside. She glanced at the laptop and saw no signs of recent use, likely indicating Sang Shi’an had finished using it. After saying goodbye to Jian Chenyu, she left.
The room was now empty except for Jian Chenyu and Sang Shi’an.
Sang Shi’an usually preferred to use the open-concept study in the living room, but the desk in her bedroom was piled high with cosmetics and jewelry, a chaotic mess. Now, paper documents were stacked on top of everything. As Jian Chenyu entered the room, she heard Sang Shi’an whimpering softly in her sleep.
Her cheeks were flushed, and she was clearly restless.
Jian Chenyu walked over and pressed her hand to Sang Shi’an’s forehead.
Sang Shi’an wasn’t deeply asleep. She groggily opened her eyes and found Jian Chenyu’s face looming close.
“…How did you get in here?” Sang Shi’an’s voice was hoarse as she slowly glanced around, confirming she was in her own room.
Jian Chenyu picked up the water glass beside her and offered it. “Drink some water first.”
Sang Shi’an was indeed thirsty. The water was cold, chilling her throat and stomach as she drank, jolting her awake a little.
With no extra chairs available, Jian Chenyu leaned against the desk and explained, “Your friend, Su Ningyue, was here earlier.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Sang Shi’an sensed something was off.
Jian Chenyu’s gaze swept across her face, and she lowered her voice. “She didn’t want to take care of you. She left you to me.”
Sang Shi’an choked on her own saliva, surprised that Jian Chenyu would make such a joke. “What nonsense are you talking about?”
But she lacked the energy to argue, especially since she had already spoken more to Jian Chenyu today than she usually did in a whole week. She didn’t want to indulge Jian Chenyu’s whims.
“Su Ningyue probably just left. I’ll go find her for dinner.”
Jian Chenyu grabbed her arm. “You’re still weak. Don’t be stubborn.”
Already drained, Sang Shi’an stumbled back, accidentally stepping hard on Jian Chenyu’s foot. Knowing how much force she had used, she immediately apologized, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to.”
“Are you okay?” Jian Chenyu asked at the same moment.
Sang Shi’an shook her head dazedly. Perhaps the bruise on her waist was worsening, making her feel lightheaded. She suddenly forgot what she was about to say. Jian Chenyu’s figure blurred before her eyes, and in the swirling haze, memories of her youth began to merge with the present.
She seemed to see Sister Chenyu again—that gentle, caring older sister. So when Jian Chenyu helped her onto the bed, Sang Shi’an obediently lay down.
Jian Chenyu tucked Sang Shi’an under the covers and stood up to fetch the medicine kit.
Perhaps because Jian Chenyu’s current demeanor so closely resembled the gentle older sister Sang Shi’an had known years ago, Sang Shi’an suddenly grabbed the hem of Jian Chenyu’s skirt, as if possessed, and blurted out the question that had haunted her for four years: “Didn’t you say you’d go to the same school as me? Why did you go abroad back then?”
As Jian Chenyu turned her head, Sang Shi’an seemed to suddenly realize what she’d done and quickly released her grip.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and Jian Chenyu’s heart tightened. She sat back down on the edge of the bed, sensing Sang Shi’an’s distress.
But she hadn’t expected that, in Sang Shi’an’s most vulnerable moment of illness, she would still be dwelling on Jian Chenyu’s decision to study abroad years ago.
Jian Chenyu asked tentatively, “Does that still bother you?”
Sang Shi’an remained silent, her released hand clenching into a tight fist, clearly demanding an answer.
Jian Chenyu’s tense expression softened as she explained softly, “When I submitted my application to study abroad, you were completely immersed in training camp for the competition. The camp was completely sealed off—even your parents had trouble contacting you. So at the time, I couldn’t tell you about my plans to go abroad beforehand.”
Seeing Sang Shi’an’s tightly pressed lips, she continued, “Back then, you silently blocked me without giving me a chance to explain. I only found out from your brother that you had gone to Hai City for vacation. After that, whenever I returned to China during my breaks, you would run off, leaving me no opportunity to explain.”
Sang Shi’an’s eyes flickered as she gazed at Jian Chenyu, who allowed herself to be scrutinized, her lowered gaze seeming genuine.
“Then… why have you been so cold to me since we reunited?”
Jian Chenyu sensed Sang Shi’an had more questions. “Then what?”
Asking about the reasons for her studying abroad was one thing, but questioning her attitude after their reunion would make it seem like Sang Shi’an cared too much.
Sang Shi’an changed her question. “Then… have you had dinner yet?”
Jian Chenyu was slightly surprised. “No.”
Sang Shi’an tentatively asked, “I’ll order some food. Would you like to eat together?”
Sang Shi’an nodded.
Jian Chenyu took a few steps, then suddenly turned back. “From now on, if you have any questions, just ask me directly. Don’t keep guessing on your own.”