Chapter 67: Playing Pitiful

The next day brought an early class, so Qiu Sui didn’t stay up late like the previous two nights to distract himself. Holding onto the mindset that he’d fall asleep as soon as he closed his eyes, he shut off his phone early and forced himself to sleep.

He had no idea how long his mind wandered before he finally drifted off in a haze, but at least he woke up the next morning without the usual headache from lack of sleep.

Qiu Sui had set Shen Zhixiao’s WeChat to Do Not Disturb. When he got up, he noticed the red notification dot on his screen but didn’t bother opening the messages.

Mornings meant crowds waiting for the bus, so he skipped buying breakfast at the cafeteria to save time. He stuffed two buckwheat breads into his backpack, grabbed the door handle, and headed out.

He’d left twenty minutes earlier than usual, but even so, he still ran into Shen Zhixiao waiting by the door.

The other man wore a mask to cover the wound on his face, revealing only those sharp, narrow eyes. His hair was neatly combed again, and he held a thermal bag, looking down at Qiu Sui expectantly. In a soft voice, he called, “Xiao Sui,” and tried to hand over the breakfast.

Qiu Sui ignored him and strode quickly toward the waiting area.

Shen Zhixiao clutched the thermal bag, afraid of angering him further. He didn’t dare call out again and could only trail carefully behind him like a tail.

Even at this hour, plenty of people waited for the elevator, so Qiu Sui headed straight for the stairwell without hesitation.

Shen Zhixiao’s footsteps echoed right behind him. Qiu Sui didn’t look back or snap at him like yesterday—he simply hurried down the stairs, paying him no mind.

Shen Zhixiao’s gaze fixed on the top of Qiu Sui’s head, just one step behind. They were so close, yet he never mustered the courage to reach out and touch Qiu Sui’s arm again.

On their usual commute, they always fooled around a bit—sometimes Qiu Sui would yank at Shen Zhixiao’s scarf from the car, other times they’d bump shoulders while walking to the cafeteria after class, holding hands and joking.

Qiu Sui would secretly tie their scarves together, then stand still gripping his end, waiting for Shen Zhixiao to tug him along. Once it knotted into a dead tangle, he’d mischievously order Shen Zhixiao to untie it—like a cat stirring up trouble in front of people, then waiting innocently for someone to clean up the mess.

Qiu Sui was never eager right after waking and hated making his bed. Whatever state the sheets were in when he got up was how they’d stay until he climbed back in.

Whenever Shen Zhixiao saw, he’d smooth out the sheets and blankets one by one, making the bed look neat and tidy. Then he’d wait for Qiu Sui’s next time in bed, pouncing like a tiger to mess it all up again, ready for the morning cleanup.

Shen Zhixiao knew that the first thing Qiu Sui did upon waking was grab his phone. After checking the time, he’d roll around under the covers a couple times before getting out of bed, leaving the blankets in a rumpled heap.

Gazing at Qiu Sui’s slightly tousled hair swaying with each step, fragmented memories flickered in Shen Zhixiao’s mind. Unaware, he missed a step and stumbled down the stairs behind.

Qiu Sui had just reached the landing when he caught a glimpse of an alpha’s figure hurtling past out of the corner of his eye. Startled, he instinctively reached for the man’s sleeve—but he hesitated a split second too long and missed. All he could do was watch as Shen Zhixiao’s tall frame slammed into the wall at the turn with a bang, propping himself up awkwardly against it.

The stream of people descending the stairs jumped at the sudden commotion. A few alphas passed by slowly with ambiguous smirks, watching the show.

Qiu Sui’s fingers clenched slightly. Moments later, Shen Zhixiao straightened up against the wall, head bowed in apology as he looked at him. In a low voice, he said, “Sorry.”

“…”

Can’t even walk properly, Qiu Sui thought, a spark of irritation flaring up. But he said nothing, turning to continue downstairs, his pace even quicker now.

Shen Zhixiao had twisted his ankle and couldn’t keep up right away. By the time he caught up, Qiu Sui was already at the front of the bus queue.

The shuttle pulled in right on cue, swallowing Qiu Sui’s figure. He’d only taken a few steps when the doors slid shut.

Qiu Sui settled into the rearmost seat, mostly obscured by the crowd of standees who hadn’t snagged spots. Shen Zhixiao watched the shuttle pull away, catching only faint glimpses of Qiu Sui with his head down.

Qiu Sui arrived at the lecture hall a bit early; not many people were there yet.

He took a seat in the back corner, cracking the window beside him just a sliver. A breeze cooled him as he pulled out a buckwheat bread and started flipping through it—no, eating it.

The fast-food bread was cold and dry. Propping his chin on one hand, Qiu Sui chewed absently, staring off at the desk in a daze. He didn’t even notice Shen Zhixiao approaching.

The man moved stiffly, trying to take the bread from Qiu Sui’s hand. Qiu Sui’s hackles rose the instant he sensed someone grabbing for it. Too late to dodge—he hadn’t even looked up when Shen Zhixiao’s persistent voice rang out like a haunting ghost.

“…Xiao Sui, cold bread in the morning isn’t good for your stomach.”

Qiu Sui’s grip on the bread tightened, the wrapper crinkling faintly. He fought the urge to look, issuing a low warning instead: “Let go.”

Shen Zhixiao froze for a moment, but he just set the breakfast from his other hand on Qiu Sui’s desk. Softly, he said, “I made sandwiches and fried eggs. Still hot. Will you eat this instead?”

Qiu Sui yanked at the bread, glaring at the hand on the wrapper. His expression turned icy: “Don’t make me swing in the classroom.”

Shen Zhixiao glanced around, hunching slightly as he pleaded, “Then… can you eat the breakfast I made after class?”

Damn it, Qiu Sui thought. Are you sick? Well, he was sick, and now it seemed he might be a masochist too.

The irritation had nowhere to go. Qiu Sui let go of the buckwheat bread, skipped breakfast entirely, and slumped over the desk with his eyes closed, resting.

Seeing this, Shen Zhixiao’s hand—still holding the half-eaten bread—went rigid.

He spoke to Qiu Sui helplessly, but got no response. The silence was so still it seemed like sleep. Finally defeated, he bowed his head, gently placing the bread beside the thermal bag. In a small voice, he said, “Sorry. I’ll leave the breakfast here. If you don’t want it, could you throw it out for me?”

No reaction from the figure before him. Gazing at Qiu Sui’s tousled hair, Shen Zhixiao curled his fingers reluctantly and murmured, “Then… I’m going now, Xiao Sui…”

Few people in the classroom noticed the back row drama. After Shen Zhixiao fled, Qiu Sui propped himself up and stayed silent for a few minutes before cracking his eyes to glance outside. No sign of the alpha—he must’ve gone to his own class.

Steam wafted from the thermal bag on the desk. Qiu Sui’s sharp nose picked up bacon and cheese inside.

The bacon was surely pan-fried first, then packed in. He didn’t need to look to know.

Glaring at the bag in resentment, he thought, You know damn well I won’t waste it, and you still have the nerve to tell me to throw it out.

Playing pitiful.

Qiu Sui fumed inwardly, then devoured both buckwheat breads along with the sandwiches and eggs.

They both had full schedules that morning, but minutes before the last class ended, Shen Zhixiao appeared outside in the hallway.

His final class wasn’t even in the same building, so he must’ve ditched to show up here.

Qiu Sui pulled up Wen Heng’s WeChat and messaged their class committee head.

He was reporting Shen Zhixiao for skipping.

Wen Heng: Huh? But I’m skipping too to pick up my boyfriend lol.

“…”

Skipping too? Me and Shen Zhixiao broke up!

Hiding in some corner to watch me touch the bag?

Qiu Sui scanned the entrance cautiously but left it untouched.

Egg pancake with shredded lettuce inside for sure. He took a sip of hot water, parched. I can tell by the smell—been eating his breakfasts every day.

After finishing his bread, he tore viciously into the pancake. Free food—why not? As long as he doesn’t know.

It’s what I deserve.

Cold bread every morning had lost its appeal. He snapped a photo and sent it to the group chat with Qiu Shun and Qiao Keren: Want any?

Qiao Keren loved sweets and instantly drooled with a string of emojis, telling Qiu Sui to bring them tomorrow.

As Qiu Sui chatted on his phone, a knock sounded at the dorm door.

His nerves tensed. Fingers frozen mid-type, he sat stock-still, ears straining to gauge the visitor from the sound.

But the voice came first, soft and calling.

Shen Zhixiao sounded congested these past couple days—voice rough and hoarse, like a walnut shell stuck in his throat. Unmistakable.

Qiu Sui shot upright.

Shen never knocked except lurking for his exit. What was this—showing up bold as brass?

Did he find out I ate that sandwich this morning?!

I’d checked multiple times before touching it.

Qiu Sui gripped his phone, rooted to his spot. No opening the door—he pretended not to hear, head down.

The alpha outside coughed lowly twice, then rasped, “Xiao Sui,” breath labored.

“Can you… come out? I have something… really important… to give you…”