After the Online Romance with the Campus Beauty Roommate Went Wrong - Chapter 6

After the first large class on Friday afternoon ended, Sang Shi’an’s weekend officially began. As they left the classroom, Su Ningyue invited her, “Several new movies have come out recently. Want to go see one?”

Sang Shi’an didn’t even look up. “No.”

Su Ningyue asked meaningfully, “Did Senior Jian ask you out?”

Sang Shi’an immediately showed her her phone. It was a group message from the Student Union: “We need to interview the freshmen tonight and help set up Small Auditorium No. 4. Stop dragging her into everything, okay?”

Seeing Sang Shi’an’s obvious annoyance, Su Ningyue teased her, “You’re acting like you’re possessed. You didn’t react this strongly when the forum thought we were hooking up. Did I not button my shirt properly?”

She drawled, “So, you two have been running into each other a lot lately?”

Sang Shi’an stopped in her tracks, her anger sharp enough to bite. “With your knack for getting to the point, why aren’t you studying journalism? You’re wasting your talent in Finance.”

Su Ningyue gazed at her with mock affection. “Of course, it’s all to meet my beloved Little Sangsang.”

Sang Shi’an: “Ugh.”

The two women descended the stairs. Su Ningyue waved goodbye. “Alright, go get busy. While you’re at it, see if there are any new faces in the Student Union this year who might finally make that iron tree of yours bloom. I’m meeting someone to watch a movie.”

Sang Shi’an shooed her away. “Our Student Union is a serious organization. Don’t make it sound like we’re running a brothel.”

After parting ways with Su Ningyue, Sang Shi’an exited the academic building and walked through the long corridor. Two pots of jade-white spider plants sat on the half-height windowsill. Their delicate, emerald-green leaves dangled like living jewels from the trailing vines, hinting at the pale, unopened flower buds within.

It was clear these plants were meticulously cared for by a teacher.

Sang Shi’an admired them and reached for her phone to take a photo when she heard footsteps behind her. She withdrew her hand, assuming the owner of the plants had arrived.

Turning around, she saw a stranger wearing a baseball cap, holding a book. He was likely just a student passing through the corridor. She turned back, paying him no further attention.

But the footsteps didn’t fade away; they stopped directly behind her.

The man’s gaze lingered on her for an uncomfortably long time, carrying an unsettling sense of intrusion.

Sang Shi’an frowned, her guard up. “Who are you?”

The man spoke loudly, “Sang Shi’an, I’ve given you flowers and confessed my feelings countless times. I even changed my major for you. Don’t you recognize me?”

Sang Shi’an froze, realizing this must be one of her admirers. Though she had rejected many people’s kindness, she had never accepted their gifts, and she had no recollection of the “countless times” he mentioned.

As for the major change… there hadn’t been any new transfer students in her class. He must have switched to another class within the same major. His presence here was clearly no coincidence. Maintaining her composure, Sang Shi’an asked, “What do you want?”

The man’s deep voice rumbled like his imposing physique. “I’ve liked you for so long. Why have you never accepted my kindness? Why can’t you even remember who I am?”

As his voice grew more agitated, Sang Shi’an quickly raised a hand to stop him. She had always been impatient with persistent men. “So many people confess to me,” she said. “If I had to remember each one, I’d have no time for anything else but memorizing names.”

The man saw the resistance and impatience in Sang Shi’an’s eyes, and his already agitated emotions grew even more volatile. His expression twisted beneath the baseball cap. “I worked so hard to transfer to your major. I begged the professors, but they said your class was streamed in freshman year and is progressing faster than the others, so they wouldn’t let me join. Sang Shi’an, why are you being so cold to me?”

“Because I don’t like you and have no interest in you,” Sang Shi’an replied, leaving no room for argument. Normally, she might have softened her tone, but faced with his aggressive persistence, she saw no reason to be polite.

“I have things to do later. Please move aside. Love is a mutual thing. If you really liked me, you wouldn’t act so repulsive.”

The man raised his voice again, startling a sparrow that had just landed on the windowsill. “You hate me? I love you so much, and you hate me? How could you hate me? Or is it that you don’t like men at all?”

His agitation grew as he stepped closer, the physical disparity between them immediately putting Sang Shi’an at a disadvantage. “If you liked men, why were you hugging and living with Jian Chenyu? The rumors on the forum are true, aren’t they? You like her, don’t you?”

Sang Shi’an nearly laughed in exasperation. She finally understood why this man was acting so crazed in front of her. “Whether I like men or women is none of your business. Even if I liked a dog, it wouldn’t concern you. Do you think changing your major makes you special? If you’re sick, go see a professor at the medical school—it might even save you some medical fees.”

The man gritted his teeth. “You didn’t deny it, so what I said is true. You were avoiding Jian Chenyu because you were deliberately hiding your relationship, just like the forum said? You really like her?”

Sang Shi’an was speechless. Arguing with such a fool would only waste her time, so she decided not to refute him. “Yes, yes, I’m madly in love with Jian Chenyu. I was so thrilled when she came to Yanjing University for graduate school that I couldn’t sleep for days. I like her and not you—is that enough?”

With that, Sang Shi’an ignored the man’s reaction and turned to walk away.

Suddenly, a gust of wind swept past her, followed by a chaotic flurry of footsteps. Puzzled, Sang Shi’an glanced back from the steps.

The next moment, the sound of shattering porcelain echoed across the ground.

Crash!

The pale jade spider plant pot lay in pieces, while the furious man in the baseball cap was being restrained by a passing student.

Beside the shattered porcelain shards stood a slightly mature silhouette.

The hand blocking Sang Shi’an’s path was slender and well-proportioned, its navy blue cuff dignified and composed. The woman was tall, her white trench coat revealing a pale gold silk blouse that shimmered with shifting light and shadow.

“Are you alright?” The woman noticed Sang Shi’an’s gaze and met her eyes, her voice gentle and soothing.

Sang Shi’an shook her head, thanked the woman, and saw the man in the baseball cap being subdued by several students in a corner.

Before she could ask any further questions, the corridor echoed with the heavy footsteps of school security personnel.

Another familiar voice spoke from behind the stranger: “Check the surveillance footage. This was intentional assault.”

Sang Shi’an turned to see Jian Chenyu.

So Jian Chenyu had been here the whole time?

In the half-height floor-to-ceiling window, Sang Shi’an’s slightly bewildered face was reflected.

After the security officers arrived, the students who had intervened gathered around to explain what had happened. Even though Sang Shi’an, the victim, remained silent, she was assumed to be in shock.

A burly security guard stepped forward and asked, “Miss, we’ve investigated the situation. Are you injured? Should we take you to the school infirmary?”

Sang Shi’an shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

She glanced at the man in the baseball cap. Even from his earlier words, she had sensed his extremism, but she never imagined he would resort to such an act. Whether the flowerpot was meant as a release of anger or a deliberate attack, it left her shaken.

The security guard patiently reassured her, “We’ll hand him over to your faculty for disciplinary action first. If you wish, we can also call the police.”

Yanjing University, despite its high admission standards, shared a common flaw with other institutions: a reluctance to air its dirty laundry. By the time the police arrived, school administrators would likely have intervened to handle the matter internally, avoiding unnecessary public attention.

Sang Shi’an, ever understanding, said, “I wasn’t seriously hurt. Let the school handle it according to its regulations. Thank you for your help.”

The class bell rang again. Before Sang Shi’an could thank the students who had intervened, they hurried away.

Turning to the unfamiliar woman who had also helped, Sang Shi’an expressed her gratitude again. “Thank you for stopping the flowerpot. If you’re free this weekend, I’d like to treat you to dinner.”

To emphasize her sincerity, she added, “We could go downtown if you prefer.”

The woman didn’t reply immediately, letting out a soft chuckle first.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and teasing. “It was nothing, just a small favor. But such generosity from a ‘little one’ might give me the wrong idea.”

The word “little one” carried a hint of teasing, yet it wasn’t frivolous. Sang Shi’an looked up, only to realize the woman wasn’t addressing her at all, but rather Jian Chenyu standing beside her.

Sang Shi’an was surprised. “You two know each other?”

Jian Chenyu glanced at the woman with a detached expression. The rimless glasses perched on the woman’s nose glinted in the light, concealing the amusement in her eyes. “Whether professionally or personally, this meal shouldn’t be mine to enjoy.”

Sang Shi’an was utterly confused.

“Professionally, I wasn’t the one who shielded you from the falling flowerpot—it was her. Personally…” The woman paused, turning to Jian Chenyu. “Blocking someone’s romantic prospects is said to shorten one’s lifespan.”

Sensing what she was about to say, Jian Chenyu frowned and cut her off. “Senior Sister.”

The woman slowly turned her head, chuckling softly. “After all, I seem to have heard the little one confess her feelings for you.”

At that moment, Sang Shi’an froze, completely stunned.

Ever since she first saw Jian Chenyu, she had wondered if Jian Chenyu had overheard her conversation with that man.

Earlier, she had jokingly claimed she was being targeted by a scorned admirer. Now, her careless words had come back to haunt her.

She never imagined someone else would reveal this, especially someone who seemed to have a close relationship with Jian Chenyu.

Had she just heard Jian Chenyu call this woman “Senior Sister”?

If Sang Shi’an had seen that face even once on campus, she would never have forgotten it.

But the immediate issue wasn’t the woman’s identity, but rather the phrase: “The little one said she likes you.”

Sang Shi’an didn’t know what expression to make. Had she really said that? When she argued with people, she held nothing back, saying exactly what they didn’t want to hear. She couldn’t even remember if she’d said anything more that could be misinterpreted.

“I…”

Jian Chenyu stood beside her, unmoving. Seeing Sang Shi’an stammer, she stepped in to defuse the situation. “She’s a bit timid. Don’t scare her.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

First, Sang Shi’an had been called “little one,” and now she was being labeled “timid.” These ageist remarks stung her deeply. Just as she was about to defend herself, Jian Chenyu introduced them.

“This is Wen Yansheng, a Senior Sister I met while studying in the UK. She recently earned her doctorate and is considering working at a university in China. She’s received offers from several institutions, including Yanjing University, so I invited her to visit.”

A doctorate…

No wonder this woman exuded an air of scholarly refinement. Sang Shi’an politely extended her hand. “Senior Sister Wen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Wen Yansheng briefly shook hands with Sang Shi’an. “That man earlier seemed to have a severe violent tendency. Has he done anything else before?”

The genuine concern in her eyes eased Sang Shi’an’s tense nerves, miraculously calming her down.

Sang Shi’an’s tone softened. “I’m fine. We only had a verbal argument before he got physical, and he didn’t gain any advantage.”

Sang Shi’an’s phone rang—it was Gu Yao calling to hurry her. She quickly said goodbye to Wen Yansheng and jogged off to answer the call.

Watching Sang Shi’an’s retreating figure, Wen Yansheng began walking, chatting casually with Jian Chenyu. “Is that the ‘little friend’ you live with?”

Jian Chenyu nodded. “Our families are close. When I returned to China, we happened to attend the same school. Since neither of us wanted to live in the dorms, we decided to live together for mutual support.”

“But she doesn’t seem to need your protection,” Wen Yansheng pointed out sharply. “And you’ve lived independently abroad for four years—do you really need a ‘little friend’ to take care of you?”

Jian Chenyu paused slightly, then resumed walking as Wen Yansheng glanced at her. “There’s no point in going against my family’s good intentions over such a trivial matter.”

Wen Yansheng nodded, accepting Jian Chenyu’s explanation.

The two women strolled through the long corridor, peering into classrooms through the windows. They had already toured the campus once, even passing Sang Shi’an’s class.

Only after they had moved away from the classrooms did Wen Yansheng speak again. “That little girl who spoke up to that man must be quite outgoing and bold. She’s very daring and interesting. You said she was timid earlier—doesn’t that seem contradictory?”

The wind lifted Jian Chenyu’s long hair, the soft strands brushing across her face and obscuring the emotions in her eyes. “What are you trying to say, Senior Sister?”

Wen Yansheng averted her gaze and continued walking. “Nothing, really. I just find her intriguing.”

Jian Chenyu hesitated for a moment, then said nothing, continuing to guide Wen Yansheng around the campus.

Meanwhile, Sang Shi’an was helping the Student Union senior sisters set up Small Auditorium No. 4. At 7 p.m., the recruitment interviews officially began.

Prospective freshmen had to take the stage, introduce themselves, explain why they wanted to join the Student Union, specify which department they were interested in, and outline their future plans.

Sang Shi’an sat on the judging panel, casually twirling her pen as she watched the nervous freshmen. Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned to see Gu Yao sitting beside her. “Doesn’t this remind you of your own interview a year ago?”

Sang Shi’an replied honestly, “It does. I thought it would be a fierce competition, but in the end, almost everyone got in.”

Gu Yao flashed a mischievous grin. “That’s exactly how we trick the freshmen! This is their most naive time in college. If we don’t mess with them now, we’ll never get another chance.”

Sang Shi’an had underestimated the seniors’ enthusiasm for teasing the newcomers. After Gu Yao finished her speech and before the interviews began, she added a new evaluation criterion: talent showcase.

The small auditorium erupted in excitement. Even the shyest freshmen blushed crimson as they sang songs after their self-introductions.

The interviews transformed into a mini-concert.

By the time it ended, it was nearly 10 PM. The freshmen gradually dispersed. Gu Yao suggested grabbing late-night snacks together, but Sang Shi’an, still wary of the forum post about her and Jian Chenyu, worried the others might tease her if they got drunk. She shook her head and declined.

She briefly mentioned her encounter with the pervert earlier that afternoon. “I promised to treat the person who helped me to late-night snacks.”

Gu Yao nodded understandingly. “Go ahead, then. Be careful on your way home. I wonder how the school will handle that guy. He’s a menace to have around.”

Sang Shi’an smiled. “We’ll find out in a few days.”

As she stepped out of the auditorium, a sudden gust of wind hit her full in the face. She inhaled deeply without thinking, and the air, likely mixed with dust, made her cough violently several times.

Just as Sang Shi’an was about to continue walking toward the school gate, she heard footsteps behind her.

She turned to look, but the dim light only allowed her to make out the vague silhouette of a tall man.

Perhaps still shaken by the afternoon’s incident, Sang Shi’an’s heart pounded like a drum. She quickly turned back and hurried forward.

One step, two steps, three steps…

The footsteps behind her didn’t stop; they grew closer and closer.

It was ten o’clock at night, and the campus was deserted. Sang Shi’an quickened her pace, her hands trembling as she fumbled for her phone, about to call for help.

Bang!

She collided with someone. Her phone flew from her hand, crashed to the ground, and the screen shattered.

“Let go of me…”

“Why are you so flustered?”

Another voice spoke simultaneously, its tone gentle and soothing like water. Sang Shi’an’s tense nerves relaxed, and she exhaled heavily.

She looked up and met Jian Chenyu’s clear, serene eyes. “W-what… what are you doing here?”

“Who did you think it was? Why are you shaking so much?” Jian Chenyu’s hand settled on Sang Shi’an’s shoulder as the man behind them walked past without a glance.

The warmth of Jian Chenyu’s proximity carried her familiar, delicate fragrance. Only then did Sang Shi’an realize she was trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

When she finally managed to speak, Sang Shi’an tilted her head. “What are you doing here?”

“Just passing by,” Jian Chenyu said succinctly, continuing to gently pat Sang Shi’an’s back to help her catch her breath. “It’s windy here. Should we head back to the classroom building to warm up?”

Sang Shi’an hadn’t expected Jian Chenyu to attribute her distress to the wind. Whether intentional or not, it stirred a subtle, indescribable emotion within her.

“No need,” she replied.

Jian Chenyu glanced at Sang Shi’an’s downcast, teary eyes, her pupils flickered slightly before she looked away. “Alright.”

Sang Shi’an was about to ask what Jian Chenyu meant by “alright” when Jian Chenyu stepped in front of her, immediately blocking much of the wind.

Jian Chenyu had already been patting Sang Shi’an’s back. Now, with her standing in front of Sang Shi’an, it looked as if she were holding her in her arms.

“You’ve been recruiting all night…” Jian Chenyu’s voice paused, then suddenly tightened. “…Stop panting.”

Sang Shi’an had been frightened for too long and was still struggling to regulate her rapid breathing. Initially, she had leaned closer to Jian Chenyu merely to block the wind, but then she found herself drawn to the warmth radiating from Jian Chenyu’s body, which defied the cold wind. She pressed closer still, eventually realizing that leaning against Jian Chenyu was less tiring, and ended up nuzzling her neck, panting heavily.

Hearing Jian Chenyu tell her to stop panting, her rebellious spirit flared, and she deliberately made her breathing even louder.

Just breathe, just breathe.

After half a minute, Sang Shi’an finally felt recovered. She moved her head and noticed Jian Chenyu’s tense shoulders, realizing they were standing too close.

She pushed Jian Chenyu away. “I’m fine now.”

Jian Chenyu picked up the phone from the ground and handed it to her.

Sang Shi’an took it. Seeing Jian Chenyu still standing there, she said bluntly, “You can leave now.”

Use and discard. Boundaries clearly defined.

Jian Chenyu stood there, half-lidded eyes appraising Sang Shi’an.

Sang Shi’an bit her lip, feeling guilty. “I’m going home tomorrow.”

“Go pack now.”

“I won’t keep you company.”

She took a half-step back, ready to slip away.

But before she could get far, Sang Shi’an was surprised to find Jian Chenyu hadn’t followed. She turned back and saw Jian Chenyu being stopped by a boy.

Curious, Sang Shi’an walked back and overheard the boy saying to Jian Chenyu, “Excuse me, classmate, can I get your WeChat?”

Jian Chenyu paused for a few seconds before replying, “Sure.”

Sang Shi’an was stunned.

In her memory, Jian Chenyu disliked socializing and had never given her contact information to strangers. Sang Shi’an scrutinized the boy’s face several times, but couldn’t see anything particularly special about him.

After the boy left, Sang Shi’an let out a soft hmph. “You never used to give out your contact information in high school. What changed now that you’ve gone abroad for university? You’re handing it out to everyone who asks?”

Jian Chenyu replied, “He was selling dormitory Wi-Fi. If I didn’t give him my number, he might have kept pestering me. Weren’t you in a hurry to leave?”

The explanation sounded like it was for Sang Shi’an’s sake, but she sensed there was more to it.

Unfortunately, she had never been able to decipher Jian Chenyu’s true thoughts.

As they approached the school gate, Jian Chenyu suddenly asked, “Has your mother contacted you?”

The question caught Sang Shi’an off guard. Noticing her confusion, Jian Chenyu clarified, “My mother is returning to China at the end of the month. Your parents invited our family to visit your home. If they ask about how we’ve been getting along these past two months…”

“We’ve been getting along great, just like when we were kids,” Sang Shi’an immediately interjected.

Jian Chenyu lowered her head and smiled, saying nothing more.