Qiu Sui, who had been awkwardly leaning against the door with his back to it and clutching his head, felt the hairs on his spine stand on end at those words. He desperately wanted to yank the door open right then and tell the guy to scram.
Who wants to hit you? I’m not a sadist.
Qiu Sui cursed inwardly.
Staring at the motionless door in front of him, Shen Zhixiao felt his strength drain away like collapsing sand. He lowered his head and gently pressed his forehead against the door panel, clutching the insulated lunchbox in his hand. His voice was tentative: “Then I’ll go. I’ll leave the lunchbox for you, okay? I made salt-and-pepper shrimp and fish-fragrant pork—the ones you like…”
Bang.
Qiu Sui had only heard half of it when he swallowed hard, unable to stop himself from slapping the door. He hadn’t had any appetite at noon, but now just hearing the guy list the dishes made his stomach growl. He felt annoyed.
The voice outside fell silent. Several seconds passed before it came again, subdued and meek: “I’ll leave it at the door then, Little Sui… Don’t be mad. I won’t bother you anymore. Sorry.”
Who wants your damn food.
Qiu Sui badly wanted to fling the door open and punch him again, but silence fell outside soon after. The alpha’s shadow hurried past the frosted glass window, briefly blocking the light.
His fist unclenched. His ragged breathing gradually evened out, though his heart thudded dully in his chest.
Qiu Sui held his position, spine pressed against the door, frozen for a few stiff seconds before he mustered the strength to straighten up. He glanced at the clear window above the frosted pane.
Shen Zhixiao’s dejected figure shuffled slowly down the opposite corridor. When he reached his dorm door, he turned back with a glimmer of hope, glancing in this direction. Qiu Sui’s heart clenched; he instinctively stepped back a few paces to hide, only realizing belatedly that the window’s anti-peep coating meant the guy couldn’t see inside.
Not seeing Qiu Sui come out to retrieve the lunchbox, the alpha’s posture grew even more defeated. His movements as he opened the door turned mechanical.
Only after the figure vanished from sight did Qiu Sui slowly pull his gaze away. He wanted to throw himself back on the bed and keep watching videos on his computer without distraction, but he hadn’t been hungry at noon and had only eaten half his wonton soup. Now the hunger hit hard.
And the biggest culprit was right outside the door.
Qiu Sui irritably grabbed his phone. Salt-and-pepper shrimp and fish-fragrant pork—it’s not like I can’t order them from delivery.
That was what he told himself as he scrolled through delivery apps, searching several shops. But the highly rated ones didn’t have both dishes available at once. Staring at the pictures of greasy, batter-fried salt-and-pepper shrimp from low-rated places, his appetite plummeted again.
Salt-and-pepper shrimp had to be pan-fried without batter until golden, then sprinkled with salt and pepper for that crispy bite.
In the few minutes he’d spent searching, Qiu Sui’s hunger had turned into burning acid reflux.
He tossed the phone aside and glared at the delivery box on the desk. The uneaten wontons from lunch had gone cold inside, wasted.
Thinking of the thing outside, Qiu Sui gulped down some warm water to soothe himself, circled back through the delivery apps one more time, then gripped the door handle and cracked the door open just a sliver.
It was fully dark at six in the winter afternoon. Qiu Sui squinted across—no one in sight, just a row of closed doors.
I’m just not wasting food, that’s all.
That was what he told himself as he hooked the lunchbox inside. Keeping up the attitude, he opened WeChat, found the couple’s cat profile pic in his list, and typed.
Qiu Sui: Don’t send me anything else. I don’t want to waste food.
The other side read the message. The typing indicator flickered repeatedly, but it took half a minute of agonizing deliberation before a reply came.
Liar: Takeout isn’t good for you.
Qiu Sui waited ages for that curt response, blood rushing to his head. His fingers hammered out: We’ve broken up. Stop trying to manage me.
It stung the other side. The typing started and stopped helplessly several times, but in the end, no message came through.
Qiu Sui exited the chat, found all their linked social media accounts, and severed every connection. Then he remembered the couple’s profile pic on WeChat and switched it back to his old photo. Only after all that did he open the lunchbox and start eating.
Just minutes later, his phone buzzed on the desk.
Qiu Sui picked at his food with chopsticks, waiting over ten seconds before checking. It was Qiao Keren @-ing him in their small group chat.
Qiao Keren: Hey, why’d your profile pic change?
Qiao Keren: Is my WeChat cache glitched or something?
Qiu Sui chewed on a floret of broccoli and typed listlessly.
Qiu Sui: No. Shen Zhixiao and I broke up.
The screen went quiet for a few seconds. Then Qiao Keren’s voice message blasted through, tone laced with shock: “Holy shit, what happened? Weren’t you fine just the other day…”
Qiu Sui didn’t know how to explain in detail and could only admit: “We fought the night before last.”
The other side sucked in a sharp breath, voice turning furious: “What did that bastard do? Cheat? Act like a player?!”
If the guy had cheated, Qiu Sui really would beat him into the hospital. But the real reason wasn’t much better. Pressing the screen, Qiu Sui murmured: “Other principles… He was hiding a lot from me, I found out, we fought, and I couldn’t take it so we broke up.”
“Alphas really can’t be judged by appearances! Not a single good one among them…” Qiao Keren didn’t hold back, unleashing a forty-second rant.
Qiu Sui agreed inwardly after listening. Shen Zhixiao really wasn’t a good guy; the sweet boyfriend act had all been fake.
Qiu Shun’s message popped up then, checking on him.
Qiu Sui felt a bit better than yesterday—maybe because he’d punched Shen Zhixiao at noon.
Relieved to hear he was okay, the two said they’d have time tomorrow to eat together.
Qiu Sui didn’t want to trouble them and suggested meeting outside, but they refused. That night, they kept him company playing cards and chatting.
Being with them lifted Qiu Sui’s mood far more than the night before. The next day at noon, he woke up, checked the group chat, threw on his coat, and headed out.
The alpha squatting by the door jumped up in panic when he sensed Qiu Sui emerging. The wounds on his face were untreated—his cheeks swollen asymmetrically and bruised. He looked disheveled, his face pale from waiting too long in the cold. He called out to Qiu Sui in a small voice, head bowed.
Qiu Sui’s eyelid twitched faintly. He quickly spotted the lunchbox in the guy’s hand and guessed Shen Zhixiao planned to pull the same stunt as yesterday.
His fingers tightened slightly, expression turning icy: “Didn’t you see my message?”
Shen Zhixiao kept his head down, face tense and uneasy. His dry lips twitched slowly, but before he could speak, Qiu Sui cut him off ruthlessly: “Stop sending stuff. If you’re that bored, go to a hospital and get those injuries looked at. You look ugly like that. I don’t want to see you.”
With that, he slammed the door, grabbed his backpack, and brushed past.
Shen Zhixiao instinctively touched the wounds on his face. He froze in place for half a second before snapping back and hurrying after Qiu Sui, reaching out—but Qiu Sui sensed it and dodged sharply.
“Baby… Little Sui, I-I’ll get them checked. Don’t worry…”
“Who’s worried about you?” Qiu Sui’s grip tightened on his backpack, glaring furiously. “I just want to reimburse your medical fees quick and delete you from my friends list.”
Shen Zhixiao’s breath hitched. His outstretched fingers trembled and curled back. He stared blankly at Qiu Sui’s angry face, struggling for ages to regain control of his body. He blinked slowly, lips pulling into a sour smile: “Then I won’t go.”
His voice was hoarse as he repeated unconsciously: “I won’t go.”
Qiu Sui’s lips pressed down almost imperceptibly. He quickly looked away from Shen Zhixiao, throat bobbing mutely.
He turned to leave, but Shen Zhixiao’s trembling voice chased after: “Baby, I was wrong. I’ll go to the doctor. I’ll go.”
He stumbled after Qiu Sui’s back, pleading with a choked sob: “Don’t delete me from your friends… okay? I won’t message and bother you. I was wrong.”
Qiu Sui didn’t stop, lips pressed tight as he dashed into the stairwell. Shen Zhixiao didn’t follow.
He descended the stairs, mouth agape and struggling for breath, every movement mechanical.
Qiao Keren and Qiu Shun waited in the gazebo in the garden across from the Alpha Dorm Area. The winter wind stung their cheeks red. Scarves and hats left only their eyes visible as they waved him over.
Qiu Sui wore a scarf too—the one from home that had been at the bottom of his drawer.
Qiao Keren hopped up on tiptoe to hook his arm, chattering about grabbing hot soup from Andokou. The weather was brutally cold—even bundled up, the biting wind pierced like magic attacks.
Qiu Sui cracked a soft smile listening to him, the heavy weight on his chest easing a little.
Qiu Shun walked beside him, adjusting the scarf slipping off his brother’s shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a black shadow and instinctively glanced toward the Alpha Dorm Area entrance.
The alpha stood at the gate clutching something, watching from afar. Caught, he ducked away hastily.
Qiu Shun tugged his brother’s scarf. When Qiu Sui looked over, he jerked his chin backward. Qiu Sui reacted sluggishly with a hum and turned—only catching Shen Zhixiao’s retreating back.
Qiao Keren saw it too and eyed Qiu Sui’s face, not daring to speak.
Qiu Shun didn’t pry—just a heads-up for his brother—before switching topics: what to eat later.
Qiu Sui stared absently at the ground ahead, replying a beat late: “Noodles, I guess.”
The three ate lunch in the cafeteria together, then headed to the indoor gym to play badminton.
Exercise was the fastest way to unwind. Qiao Keren and Qiu Shun took turns playing against Qiu Sui, leaving him no room to wallow. After several rounds, they grabbed dinner at a nearby cafeteria and took a stroll.
“How about tomorrow I eat with you too? After morning classes, I’ll come from Building 2 to the Science Building to find you,” Qiao Keren suggested brightly while waiting for the shuttle bus.
Their schedules rarely aligned, and dorms weren’t on the way. Qiao Keren usually ate with roommates after class. Qiu Sui shook his head with a forced smile: “No need. I’m really fine.”
Qiao Keren didn’t push: “Alright then.”
Parting from them, Qiu Sui’s mood sank again.
Back in the dorm, he showered. While blow-drying indoors, he glanced out the window.
Shen Zhixiao’s dorm window was pitch black.
The hot air made Qiu Sui’s head throb. After drying his hair, his eyes burned as he crawled into bed and opened his computer to distract himself.
Qiao Keren sporadically posted New Year’s holiday plans in the group. They’d just settled on a two-day trip to the neighboring province.
Starting the Thursday after next.
Qiu Sui’s original plan had been crossing the year with Shen Zhixiao at Bincheng’s Ice and Snow World. Shen Zhixiao had even picked flights and made itineraries…
They’d nearly booked the tickets and hotel.
Qiu Sui’s lashes drooped. It took ages before he slowly typed a reply to Qiao Keren.
As soon as he sent it, another avatar popped up.
Bad Liar: Little Sui, I just saw the doctor.
Bad Liar: Can you not delete me from your friends?
Qiu Sui stared at the chat, fingers hovering rigidly. Seconds later, he tapped the keyboard.
Qiu Sui: Send the receipt. I’ll reimburse.
No receipt came. Typing stuttered, then: I deserve it. Little Sui doesn’t need to cover it.
Bad Liar: I was good and saw the doctor, got meds too. Can you not delete me from your friends, Little Sui…
Shen Zhixiao sat on a hospital bench, staring tensely at the chat screen, breath shaky as he awaited judgment.
But no reply came.
His heart felt like it was submerged in ice water, beating sluggishly. His fingertip hovered over the input box, but he lacked the courage to type another message.
The hospital’s disinfectant smell clawed at his lungs. Struggling for air, he finally typed three words and hit send.
Qiu Sui’s phone, tossed face-down on the bed, lit up—but with his back to it, he was already asleep and didn’t see.
Shen Zhixiao watched the “Okay?” with no response indicator behind it. His clogged chest seemed to draw in fresh air bit by bit, heartbeat quickening again. Cautiously, he sent two more words.
Good night.
