I Fell in Love With My Cold-Hearted, Flirtatious Roommate (GL) - Chapter 11

Two weeks later was the celebration event for commercial voice-over in the Imperial Capital’s business sector. Commercial voice-over had not yet grown significantly in these two years, and people lacked sufficient understanding of its importance; few even acknowledged it as a profession.

The event organizer was itself a major voice-over studio of a Yuan Yu company. To build momentum and publicity, they specifically announced the lineup.

It featured some currently popular star voice actors and collaboration partners from film and television companies. Normally, Ran Jiu and her colleagues would only hear about such major occasions, but they were surprised to learn they had been invited when Yu Lai returned with a red lacquer-sealed invitation.

An atmosphere of excitement permeated the entire studio. Xiao Zhi was also happy for a rare change, opening the invitation to read it several times and taking pictures to post on her Moments.

Yu Lai casually tossed his hat onto the sofa, exclaiming, “The reason we were invited this time is thanks to that web series Little Jiu voiced before.”

Their studio struggled for a long time in the beginning. Initially, Ran Jiu’s audition success rate was higher, and she took on more orders. During that time, a low-budget web series production approached them. Although the role offered wasn’t particularly important—not even a third female lead—it was just the mistress of a villainous faction in that martial arts drama.

However, none of them expected the drama to unexpectedly become popular later. Many details within it were repeatedly analyzed by netizens. In particular, many netizens discovered that the mistress’s character design was 90% faithful to the original novel, the actress was great, and the voice was highly recognizable yet carried a sense of detached and clear coolness.

During that time, those short clips were edited by content creators and repeatedly played across major promotional platforms. A portion of the audience dug out the behind-the-scenes voice actor, Jiutu, and the studio behind her, garnering a small following for their studio.

Ran Jiu’s personal career peak was that time. She gained a lot of followers on Weibo, and now taking on voice-over for small-budget dramas was not a problem.

However, the invitation was just the start. That same evening, they received explosive news: since this promotional event highly valued public opinion, they had conducted a performer selection vote in advance. Their studio was surprisingly among those selected and was required to provide a 10-to-15-minute performance.

So, they hurriedly began rehearsals.

Ran Jiu was always less interested in highly commercial performance rehearsals, so the script was chosen by Xiao Zhi—a recent, popular ancient-style mystery script.

In this script, the female protagonist suspects her husband of cheating. After a moment of despair, she calms down and, through her meticulous and clever questioning, gradually makes her husband reveal his flaws.

However, this script has a clear progression of layers. Before the first two-thirds of the plot, the female protagonist pretends to be weak, and the husband is the more dominant one.

But when recording this section, Yu Lai, Ran Jiu’s partner, kept running into problems.

After the third “NG,” Yu Lai finally couldn’t help but curse himself: “I’m a useless man.”

Xiao Zhi also frowned, “Your aura can’t suppress Ran Jiu’s.”

Wei Feng, who had been observing for a long time, rubbed his hair: “This doesn’t sound like a cheating man facing his wife’s dissection; it feels like you’re being interrogated.”

Ran Jiu looked very innocent and said, “I’m not very good at voicing a style of showing weakness.”

Wei Feng laughed, shaking like a sieve on the side: “Did you hear that? I didn’t say it, Jiu said she doesn’t record roles that are too submissive. Yu Lai, shouldn’t you reflect on yourself?”

Yu Lai immediately got angry and slammed the script into Wei Feng’s arms: “You have a girlfriend; you should have no problem recording this.”

Three minutes later, Wei Feng also threw the script away because he felt he was too submissive too.

Xiao Zhi: “When you two record this script, the male lead sounds like he’s being forced.”

Xiao Zhi also realized that Ran Jiu’s aura was too strong; she simply couldn’t voice overly delicate or weak female sounds. She recalled Ran Jiu’s previous roles—even if they were minor, they were characters with high status and power. Thus, some people online jokingly referred to Jiutu’s voice as the “Cool Queen Voice.”

They messed around until very late. Xiao Zhi didn’t want to overly exploit them and suggested they go out to relax.

This was exactly what Wei Feng wanted: “We need to get some exercise and ignite our potential.”

Xiao Zhi rolled her eyes.

Yu Lai said: “How about the U University sports field? I can borrow a student ID from a friend and have him book a tennis court.”

The group quickly reached an agreement. Xiao Zhi asked Ran Jiu if she wanted to go.

Ran Jiu, looking somewhat lethargic after a whole afternoon of recording, didn’t hesitate: “Sure.”

When they arrived at the sports field, Wei Feng’s friend brought the student ID but said there were no tennis courts available.

Wei Feng and Yu Lai were disappointed. It was Xiao Zhi who finally figured it out: “Forget it. Little Jiu and I will stroll around the track. You two go play soccer.”

As the two of them walked around the track, they attracted a lot of attention. Xiao Zhi smiled knowingly, likely aware of who everyone was looking at. She sighed, her tone very gentle: “Have you contacted your mother recently?”

Ran Jiu shook her head. Her black boots made no sound on the track: “Haven’t been in touch for a long time.”

Xiao Zhi seemed to understand: “Yes, if I were your mother, I couldn’t handle it either. Even if you were going to repeat a year, you shouldn’t have dropped out.”

Ran Jiu said calmly: “It’s nothing, they are my own choices. Besides, even if I finished my studies, I might not necessarily have the glittering future others imagine.”

Her words carried a hint of immaturity, but upon closer contemplation, one could hear a conviction that had been long considered.

Xiao Zhi: “People never know their limits until they move forward. When I graduated from undergrad, I wanted to start a band, but my dad stopped me. Now I should thank him for stopping me, or else I wouldn’t have learned more commercial planning knowledge, let alone start my own studio.”

Ran Jiu’s withdrawal from school had not only shocked her department but the entire school, to the point that even someone like Xiao Zhi, who was usually oblivious to outside matters, knew about it.

After all, J University was considered one of the four top universities in the Imperial Capital, and Law was its ace major. In all these years, no one who had gained admission had dropped out due to disliking the major, only those who withdrew due to mental health issues.

When mentioned, most people found it willful, and only a few found it a pity.

On the day she decided to drop out, Ran Jiu didn’t discuss it with anyone because she knew that since she had decided, discussing it with others was pointless.

Those who didn’t care about her would never care, and those who did care couldn’t understand her.

Her mother later received a call from the class teacher, rushed to the school, and went to her dorm. Ran Jiu, who was packing her things, didn’t react in time and was slapped across the face.

“Why didn’t you discuss it with me! You’re trying to force me to die!”

The woman’s gaze was desolate and despairing, accusing her of great wrongdoing. That slap practically severed the mother-daughter relationship. Ran Jiu gained a long period of peace afterward, though she didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing.

Thinking of this, her eyes became vacant again.

Xiao Zhi next to her was curious: “Why did you insist on dropping out?”

Ran Jiu’s answer was flat: “Because I couldn’t see my future path.”

Everyone must be responsible for their own choices. Her dropout was the result of multiple factors, she deeply understood this principle, and she dared to be responsible for her gamble.

When they had walked about ten laps, Yu Lai was also tired from playing soccer. He returned helplessly and said, “These young guys play soccer too fiercely now; they don’t give way at all.”

Wei Feng: “Yeah, you’re the same; you can’t attack (be dominant).”

Yu Lai was about to quarrel with him: “Don’t bring that up again!”

Xiao Zhi vividly described the current situation: “Two primary school chickens pecking at each other.”

When they eventually dispersed, Ran Jiu lingered for a moment, standing there without following them.

Xiao Zhi looked at her with suspicion. Ran Jiu said she wanted to stay a little longer.

Xiao Zhi gave her a sympathetic and pitying look: “Then go back early, girls aren’t safe outside.”

Ran Jiu nodded but didn’t move: “This is the university district, it’s fine.”

Halfway, Wei Feng ran back: “Jiu, can you do me a favor?”

Ran Jiu was succinct: “Say it.”

“It’s… nothing much. My girlfriend also plays demos and loves your voice. It’s her birthday in two days; can you record a short birthday blessing video?”

Wei Feng’s girlfriend was very spiritual, and definitely straight, but she particularly liked to like pretty girls on various short video platforms. She was recently obsessed with Ran Jiu’s voice to the point of being unable to extricate herself, which even drove Wei Feng crazy. However, it was her birthday, so he had to indulge her once.

Ran Jiu rationally offered advice: “Your girlfriend’s development trend isn’t quite right.”

Wei Feng inexplicably felt a pink, possibly pink-green, glow over his head and asked confusedly: “Can you do it?”

Ran Jiu was aloof: “I have a lot going on recently. I’ll record it when I find time.”

“Okay, thank you!” Wei Feng confirmed multiple times before leaving.

After he left, Ran Jiu finally sighed in relief and slowly continued pacing on the sports field. It was almost nine o’clock, and there were very few people left. She took out her phone and sent a voice call request to Rong Ting, who quickly hung up.

Rong Ting replied via WeChat: [What’s up?]

Ran Jiu: [Are you home?]

Rong Ting: [Sorry, I’m at the school library.]

Another message quickly followed: [Did you forget your key?]

A faint smile appeared on Ran Jiu’s lips: [No, I happened to come to your school’s sports field for a walk. We can go back together on the way.]

The reply on the other end seemed excited: [Okay! Wait for me for ten more minutes, and I’ll come find you.]

Ran Jiu replied: [No rush.]

Rong Ting was indeed very busy that day because she not only had to prepare the PPT for the section she was responsible for but also work on other course assignments. Most importantly, she had never done textbook binding/design, so she had found a lot of relevant materials from the library.

When she went downstairs, she saw a tall girl standing under the lights. Ran Jiu was wearing a zippered black T-shirt, slender women’s black pencil pants with combat boots, and her dark green hair was tucked under a hat.

The glances of people passing by fell on her. Some even passed by Rong Ting and secretly whispered “Cool girl.”

Rong Ting walked over with her handbag: “Why are you here?”

Seeing her, Ran Jiu started walking back slowly: “Accompanying a friend.”

Rong Ting suddenly recalled the incident where she was hit by a ball last time: “Was that also accompanying a friend?”

“Yes, just a friend.” Ran Jiu smiled, suddenly feeling she should explain the error of their first meeting: “Not a boyfriend.”

Even after arriving home, Rong Ting was still bothered by her strange earlier remark as she opened her computer.

She was not such a gossipy person before, so why did she inexplicably think Ran Jiu had a boyfriend the last time she saw her carrying a male student’s clothes?

Moreover, why didn’t Ran Jiu explain when she walked her back?

Oh, wait, why should Ran Jiu explain? They hardly knew each other back then.

Rong Ting rubbed her head, not knowing why she was fixating on this matter.

In the WeChat group, Wan Sang @’d her to ask about her progress. Rong Ting honestly replied that she was still looking up materials.

Wan Sang’s tone was somewhat dissatisfied: [We have our presentation next Monday; it must be done before Sunday.]

Unexpectedly, Chen Saiyu actually spoke up for Rong Ting this time: [The textbook still needs binding/design; it definitely requires more research. There’s no harm in being more prepared! Also, shouldn’t we split the cost of the design materials!]

This time, Wan Sang remained silent.

Rong Ting sighed and replied in the group: [I will finish it as soon as possible. Don’t worry about the cost; I will bear it alone.]

That evening, she worked on Word according to the materials, and halfway through, she also downloaded Photoshop and a series of graphic tools. The dimensions for the illustrations in the textbook and the color differences for the background had strict requirements. It was very tedious, leaving her frazzled and sighing repeatedly.

At the same time, Ran Jiu put down her headset after listening to the audition, hearing no movement from the room opposite.

She walked out to pour a glass of water and, seeing the other person’s door open, subconsciously asked Rong Ting: “Do you want some water?”

Rong Ting was focused on the screen, her voice muffled: “No, thank you.”

With the door open, Ran Jiu naturally walked over.

Rong Ting made no move to hide, still leaving her computer screen unguarded, as if her very existence was clean and transparent, with nothing to conceal.

“What are you doing—”

Hearing the voice, Rong Ting suddenly turned around and realized Ran Jiu was very close to her: “Oh, this is our group assignment. The teacher asked us to create a simulated textbook.” As she spoke, she turned the computer screen for her to see.

Ran Jiu watched her frantically operating various tools on the screen and lightly laughed: “Is it easy?”

Rong Ting finally released the mouse, a bit deflated: “It’s not easy.”

Ran Jiu: “I have a friend who is very good at this. Let him help you, at least to finalize the framework first.”

Rong Ting’s eyes lit up, but then she hesitated: “Wouldn’t that be imposing?”

Ran Jiu took the liberty of offering this job to Wei Feng for the first time: “It won’t be. His side job used to involve helping with various front-page designs. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Rong Ting was truly exhausted, so she readily compromised: “You can tell me how much his labor fee is when the time comes.”

Ran Jiu smiled: “Just send me the materials and requirements.”

Rong Ting was honestly overwhelmed, and like clutching at a life raft, she sent the materials to Ran Jiu, telling her that having it done before Sunday would be fine.

On the other end, Ran Jiu sent the materials and requirements to Wei Feng: [Can you finish this by tomorrow?]

Wei Feng: [???]

Ran Jiu: [I’ll record the blessing for you.]

Wei Feng: [/Little chicken bowing/ No problem, boss.]

Wei Feng: [Next time we try the voice-over, can I ask the boss not to be so dominant?]

Ran Jiu: [… I’ll try my best.]