The Cold Queen is My Exclusive Little Snack - Chapter 16

As the saying goes, “Things rarely happen more than three times.” Perhaps this is because after the third repetition, people inevitably develop a degree of resistance.

For instance, by the third time Chu Shiyin shared a bed with Zuo Xingning, she had almost grown accustomed to her presence. Her dreams were peaceful, devoid of vines or pythons.

Unfortunately, this time she didn’t wake up naturally.

Chu Shiyin was awakened by being watched.

Though human gazes lack physical substance, when they linger too long on a spot, they can be sensed by others, even in sleep.

Her mind snapped awake before her body. Every muscle tensed as she opened her eyes, only to be confronted by two bloodshot eyes that looked like they hadn’t slept well—no, hadn’t slept at all.

“What are you doing…” Chu Shiyin muttered, “Insomnia?”

“Jiejie, you’re awake!” Zuo Xingning hadn’t realized she was disturbing someone’s sleep. “So many people say they like me… I’m scared.”

“Who?”

“So many people who follow me… Can I call them fans?” Uncertain of the proper term, Zuo Xingning unlocked her phone and handed it over.

“The fans like you… what are you afraid of?” Chu Shiyin scrolled through the comments, for the first time wondering if she was experiencing a generation gap with the younger generation. “Besides, no one’s even criticizing you, right?”

“I’m afraid they’ll stop liking me.”

Chu Shiyin stared blankly, unable to understand. Giving up on reasoning, she looked directly into Zuo Xingning’s eyes, trying to discern something deeper.

After a sleepless night, Zuo Xingning’s eyes were slightly dry, the corners tinged red. Her tea-colored pupils remained fixed, radiating a mix of joy, curiosity, and a faint undercurrent of anxiety.

Chu Shiyin recognized this look well. When she first brought Tuantuan home, the kitten—no bigger than a slipper, its fur sparse from ringworm, a tiny, rag-like creature—had always gazed at her with that same impossibly docile expression.

In psychology, this is known as the “abandoned cat effect.”

But Chu Shiyin believed Zuo Xingning needed sleep more than anything else.

“Stop overthinking,” she said, tucking the phone under the pillow. She reached out and gently covered Zuo Xingning’s blinking eyes. “Sleep. We’ll talk when you wake up.”

“You’re talking nonsense. What are you even thinking about?”

“I’m not sleeping. I’m really not tired,” Zuo Xingning protested, shaking her head.

“Not tired? Did you even close your eyes all night?”

“…I probably closed them for a bit, but I didn’t sleep deeply.”

With her mind racing, dreams and reality had blurred together. To be honest, Zuo Xingning couldn’t even say for sure if she’d slept at all.

“Probably?” Chu Shiyin seized on the uncertainty in her words.

Zuo Xingning fell silent, her movements freezing as guilt washed over her. The warm, soft hand covering her eyes was a perfect breeding ground for drowsiness. Before long, she drifted off to sleep.

Beside her, Chu Shiyin listened to Zuo Xingning’s even, rhythmic breathing. Gradually, her own eyes closed.

When the alarm woke her again, Chu Shiyin glanced sideways. Zuo Xingning was still sound asleep, motionless.

Quietly slipping out of the bedroom, Chu Shiyin washed up and unlocked her phone. She navigated to Zuo Xingning’s Weibo page. The latest post had been published after 1 a.m.

The content was almost entirely a self-analysis. She mentioned the hastily written character she had once played, posting excerpts from her character biography and the script covered in annotations, revealing her past tendencies toward escapism and vulnerability.

The writing was emotionally charged, but the formatting was sloppy, clearly written in the throes of a late-night emotional breakdown, hastily proofread, and posted in one go.

She had laid her heart bare for the world to see, and by some twist of fate, attracted many equally sincere individuals. Night owls poured their hearts out in the comments section, making the top-rated comment stand out awkwardly:

I originally followed her for the looks, but I never expected this con artist to be so genuine. I’m a fan now!

The comment’s likes were already approaching the total likes on the Weibo post itself, clearly resonating with many.

With so many people flocking here, no wonder Zuo Xingning was so terrified.

Chu Shiyin smiled and added more fuel to the fire.

Chu Shiyin V: A serious little kid // Zuo Xingning V: …

Chu Shiyin clearly understood the principle of “if you can’t solve the problem, make it bigger.” By the time Zuo Xingning woke up and checked her phone, the thought of “what if they stop liking me again?” had vanished, replaced by four massive words:

OH! MY! GOD!

Likes, comments, and followers were skyrocketing, changing by double digits with nearly every refresh. All this was thanks to Chu Shiyin’s retweet.

Zuo Xingning’s vision went dark.

“Jiejie—” she nearly lost her voice, hopping on one foot to open the bedroom door. “How did you… uh.”

The living room wasn’t just occupied by Chu Shiyin. Six pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. Zuo Xingning swallowed hard, instantly adopting a meek demeanor. “Sorry, you guys can keep talking, keep talking.”

The door slammed shut. Yu Siya, as if just regaining her senses, pointed at the bedroom with disbelief. “You two slept together again?”

“Again?” Lin Fei chimed in excitedly, turning to Chu Shiyin. “You’re moving so fast! Siya, you should take notes.”

“Shut up,” Yu Siya snapped, her words interrupted. Furious, she wanted to hit Lin Fei. “What nonsense are you spouting? Where’s your professional ethics as a psychologist?”

“What does it matter? I’m not a doctor today, just a friend,” Lin Fei said, grabbing Yu Siya’s hand without looking and playfully “sparring” with her.

“…Don’t listen to Siya’s nonsense,” Chu Shiyin said, pinching the bridge of her nose and ignoring their antics. “Xingning sprained her ankle, and I’m worried she’ll have trouble managing on her own.”

“…Hmph.” As if you need to wait on someone else, my dear aunt!

Yu Siya closed her eyes, yanked her hand away, and asked Lin Fei coldly, “Shouldn’t you be heading to the airport?”

Lin Fei paused. “Maybe?”

“Let’s go,” Yu Siya said, standing up abruptly. “I’ll take you to the airport.”

The hotel was crowded and noisy. Yu Siya walked ahead in silence, suppressing her thoughts the entire way. By the time they were in the car, she had forgotten how to begin, finally murmuring, “What do you think of Zuo Xingning?”

“In what way?”

“What other way could there be!” Yu Siya glared at her, exasperated. “In all these years, Zuo Xingning is the only person who’s gotten close to Shiyin. I know they’re not that kind of relationship yet, but what about the future?”

“I have nothing against Xingning herself, but no one can predict the future. Shiyin can’t afford to gamble!”

“Calm down, calm down,” Lin Fei said, patting Yu Siya’s shoulder to prevent her from lashing out. “It’s not as serious as you think. Shiyin said Xingning is very attached to her, right? I bet it’ll all work out in the end.”

“What do you know!” Yu Siya glared at her.

“Alright, alright, I know nothing,” Lin Fei said, raising her hands in mock surrender. Then she leaned in close, her face suddenly close to Yu Siya’s. “Oh, wise and perceptive Siya, tell me what you’ve noticed.”

“For example, when Shiyin said, ‘Xingning seems to have an unusual craving for food, always acting like she’s not full, but not exactly hungry either. Whenever she feels like that, she likes to come and stay with me, as if I’m some kind of emotional anchor,’ what were you thinking when you made that hesitant expression?”

As she spoke, Lin Fei widened her eyes slightly, adopting a pleading, almost coquettish look.

Lin Fei’s features were unremarkable except for her strikingly beautiful, slanted eyes. She seemed to possess an innate ability to manipulate others, her gentle and harmless demeanor proving almost universally effective.

Unfortunately, Yu Siya was a cold, hard woman, as unyielding as stone.

“If you need me to spell everything out for you, you might as well quit your job and sell sweet potatoes instead!”

Yu Siya slammed her foot on the accelerator. Before Lin Fei could buckle her seatbelt, the sudden force pinned her back against the seat.

In her bedroom, Zuo Xingning stewed in silent frustration.

Her Weibo post had been intended solely for viewers still following “Jiang Nian,” but it had unexpectedly blown up.

She couldn’t be angry at Chu Shiyin; instead, she alternated between being mad at herself and burying her head in the sand like an ostrich.

Unable to face Weibo, she mindlessly scrolled through various apps when a WeChat friend request popped up. Zuo Xingning tapped to accept—it was Yang Na.

After accepting, she immediately sent a greeting message:

Sister Yang Na, I’m sorry about yesterday. Thank you for the ice pack/pen refill.

Yang Na replied instantly with an “fuming” emoji, followed by a text message:

Ice pack? Jiang Shuqing asked me to give it to you.

She doesn’t seem to dislike you as much as you think. She even chose you as a teammate during the show! Isn’t that a kind of unspoken understanding?

Look, is there some misunderstanding between you two? Like that Student Council President election you mentioned yesterday—what happened after that?

So, after all the roundabout talk, this was what she really wanted to know.

Zuo Xingning chuckled. “What could have happened? The election was based on votes. Jiang Shuqing and I were both fringe candidates—the kind no one would vote for. So I thought, if Jiang Shuqing’s name appeared on the ballot but mine didn’t, wouldn’t that mean I’d won?”

Driven by a desire to resolve their conflict, Zuo Xingning wrote Jiang Shuqing’s name on the ballot.

To her surprise, two people—whether as a prank or for some other reason—actually voted for her, unexpectedly shifting the vote count to 2:1 in her favor.

In the end, neither of them secured the Student Council President position, but Zuo Xingning had once again caught Jiang Shuqing’s attention.

After explaining, Zuo Xingning rested her cheek in her hand, gazing blankly out the window.

She hadn’t realized that the ice pack Jiang Shuqing had brought yesterday was actually from her. Why hadn’t she just given it to her directly? Was it because she thought that would be seen as “backing down”?

Should I try to get Jiang Shuqing’s WeChat and send her a thank-you message?

…Never mind. She’d probably reject my friend request anyway. I’ll just thank her in person later.

Zuo Xingning’s thoughts wandered aimlessly until the bedroom door opened and Chu Shiyin entered, carrying a porcelain-white plate.

A closer look revealed a slice of cream cake. Chu Shiyin rarely indulged in such sugary treats, making it obvious who the cake was for.

“Jiejie~” Zuo Xingning called out, feigning politeness before Chu Shiyin even reached her. “Can I have a little?”

“It’s all for you,” Chu Shiyin replied, setting the plate down. “You’ve been craving cream cake, haven’t you? Go ahead and enjoy it.”

“When did I ever—” Zuo Xingning happily picked up a fork, but her words trailed off as an image flashed through her mind: Chu Shiyin wrapped only in a bath towel. Her ears flushed crimson.

“Th-thank you, Jiejie,” she stammered, burying her face in the cake to avoid further questions about it.

Chu Shiyin assumed she was simply hungry and waited until Zuo Xingning slowed down before asking, “Still thinking about what happened online?”

Zuo Xingning instinctively shook her head, stopping abruptly halfway through. “Right, so many people say they like me, but I don’t have any real work to show for it. What’s there to like? The entertainment industry changes so fast. Once they get tired of my face, they’ll probably all leave. Only I’ll remember…”

As she spoke, Zuo Xingning found herself sinking back into that sticky, overwhelming emotion. She poured out all the chaotic thoughts that had been swirling in her mind the night before, only realizing what she’d said after she’d emptied them all out.

A beat later, she felt embarrassed. “Are my thoughts too childish? You probably can’t understand, Jiejie. It’s okay, I’ll sort myself out. Don’t worry about me.”

Chu Shiyin shook her head, gazing steadily at Zuo Xingning for a few seconds. A faint starlight flickered in her eyes, as if Zuo Xingning’s words had touched some tender place in her heart.

“I understand perfectly,” Chu Shiyin sighed, gently stroking Zuo Xingning’s hair, her hand tracing down the back of her neck before returning to the crown of her head.

“Then work hard. Work hard to deserve their affection, to become someone they can proudly say they admire.”