Chapter 5

The moment Liang Zhixia woke up, the first thing he did was reach for his phone. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but his stomach was starting to rumble.

When he lit up the screen, his eyes widened. Frowning, he couldn’t help but look again, afraid he’d seen it wrong.

L had actually messaged him first.

Curious, he tapped into the chat. A single lonely message sat at the very bottom of the interface.

[L: Why didn’t you send goodnight last night?]

“…”

Liang Zhixia felt a bit speechless. He held down the voice message button.

“Why don’t you send me goodnight first? I’m not always going to be the one initiating.”

His voice, fresh from sleep, was thick and sticky, laced with a hint of sweetness.

But he was completely oblivious to it.

He continued, “From now on, you send me good morning and goodnight every day.”

He was the one spending the money, after all. He was the boss, and he had the right to call the shots.

His light tea-colored eyes curved slightly as his fingers moved. He switched to another WeChat account and messaged Xu Cheng.

[Senior, can you ask Senior Lu if I can put up a bed curtain in the dorm?]

After setting his phone down, his stomach growled louder.

Just then, Jiang Ling messaged him, asking if he wanted to grab lunch together.

He replied with a quick “Sure.”

Before heading out, he suddenly remembered something. He smoothed out his messy blanket a bit—just tugging the four corners flat.

As soon as he stepped into the cafeteria, he spotted Jiang Ling waving at him.

He walked over and only then noticed the person sitting to Jiang Ling’s left.

Jiang Ling pushed a tray of pre-bought food toward him and pointed at the guy next to him. “Classmate from our major, Fan Li.”

Hearing Jiang Ling introduce him, Fan Li’s cheeks flushed a little. Mustering his courage, he said to the person across from him, “Hi.”

It was the first time Liang Zhixia had seen such a shy guy. He smiled and said, “That’s an interesting name.”

Fan Li’s face turned even redder, the blush spreading to his neck. “Thanks. Your name sounds nice too.”

Jiang Ling munched on a steamed bun without looking up. “How long are you two going to keep hyping each other up?”

“…”

After lunch, Jiang Ling had something to do and left first, leaving Liang Zhixia and Fan Li staring at each other awkwardly.

“I’m heading to the campus store to buy a bed curtain. Want to come?”

Liang Zhixia had just gotten a reply from Xu Cheng.

He said Lu Quan had agreed.

Fan Li: “Sure, I’ll get one too.”

A University’s campus store was huge. He and Fan Li made a beeline for the bed curtain section. He picked one that blocked light well, so he could use a desk lamp at night for drawing.

By now, he had the route back to the dorm memorized. As they parted ways, Fan Li said softly, “Can we add each other on WeChat?”

And just like that, his new WeChat account had its third friend.

Back in the dorm, he let out a sigh of relief. Lu Quan wasn’t there.

Tomorrow was Monday. He wondered if Lu Quan would come back to stay tonight.

Worried, he sat at his desk, opened his tablet, and dove into brainstorming his new comic.

Over the past two weeks, he’d already outlined the framework and general plot.

Maybe it wouldn’t even take three months before he could stop chatting with L.

It takes 21 days to form a habit.

He figured there was some truth to that. If it hadn’t been for the chaos of starting school these past couple days, he really wouldn’t have forgotten to say goodnight to L.

L replied slowly, and sometimes he was downright annoying, but Liang Zhixia had to admit that whenever his mood soured, L always picked up on it right away.

Must be that professional chat companion instinct.

The brush in his hand started moving slowly. He pushed other thoughts aside and let himself sink into the work.

Three hours flew by. He looked up and rubbed his neck in an utterly unprofessional way. Besides working on the new comic, he was also serializing a short one.

After posting it to Weibo, he curled up in his chair, cradling his phone and waiting eagerly for the first comment.

Almost instantly, a little red notification popped up.

He tapped in excitedly. It was from a familiar fan.

[I Love Rice Grains: Aaaah, Laoshi, you drew it so perfectly! I love you wuwuwu! Muah muah muah!!!]

He immediately replied with a kissing emoji.

Then he got more praise from her.

After responding to a few familiar IDs, Liang Zhixia looked up and realized it was almost dark outside.

Jiang Ling had pulled them into a group chat—with him and Fan Li.

He was organizing dinner in the group. Liang Zhixia patted his stomach; he wasn’t that hungry, so he replied that he’d skip dinner.

[Jiang Ling: No wonder your waist is so slim. Starving yourself?]

He shot back right away: “…No, it’s not.”

After his shower, Jiang Ling’s words popped into his head unbidden. He hesitated for a moment, then lifted his shirt in front of the mirror, exposing a narrow, slender waist. His snow-white skin was flushed pink from the hot water, with glistening droplets tracing the lines of his muscles downward, vanishing at the waistband of his pants.

His stomach was a thin layer, smooth as silk, with faint abs underneath. He turned sideways to admire his figure.

He wanted to snap a pic and send it to Zhuzi to brag.

Eagerly, he flung open the bathroom door—and locked eyes with Lu Quan, who had just walked in.

Those ink-black eyes pinned him in place, and his heart clenched. He stumbled back instinctively. Water soaked into the sole of his shoe, and his foot slipped. He pitched forward.

He reached out to grab Lu Quan, but remembered his germaphobia and froze mid-air, fingers curling awkwardly.

His heart pounded like it might explode. He could already picture his face smacking the floor—it was going to hurt so much.

He slapped his hands over his face, squeezing his eyes shut. His lashes trembled like fluttering wings.

But the next second, a firm grip circled his waist. Soft, damp lips brushed fabric, and a faint woody incense tickled his nose.

His quivering lashes grazed Lu Quan’s chest, sending a prickly itch across the fabric.

The skin beneath his palm was slick as porcelain, every inch polished to perfection. The waist was slim and supple—one hand could encircle it.

Once the other man had steadied himself, Lu Quan’s pale fingers slipped out from under the rumpled shirt. His gaze lowered, expression impassive. “Let go.”

Liang Zhixia sheepishly released his hold. The shirt in front of him bore two obvious handprints, the chest damp and clinging, outlining the firm contours of muscle beneath.

The man was dressed formally today—a black dress shirt and crisp slacks that gave him an intimidating air.

Liang Zhixia didn’t dare look up at Lu Quan’s face. He licked his lips and murmured, “Thanks, Senior Lu. Let me wash that shirt for you.”

“No need.”

Lu Quan sidestepped him, grabbed fresh clothes from the wardrobe, and headed into the bathroom.

Moments later, the sound of running water echoed from inside.

Only then did Liang Zhixia move. But… had he pissed off Lu Quan again?

Considering his germaphobia, that shirt was probably getting tossed. And if so, wouldn’t he have to replace it?

He sat cross-legged on the bed, staring at his bank balance with a troubled frown.

His peripheral vision caught the bare bed frame, and he suddenly remembered the curtain wasn’t up yet. If he installed it now, would Lu Quan think he was being petty?

He held his breath, listening to the water in the bathroom and timing it in his head. If he hurried, he could finish before Lu Quan got out.

No time like the present.

He’d put up a similar one in high school, so it went quickly. He just needed to tie the last rope.

Kneeling on the bed, he arched his back slightly and tilted his head up to secure it.

The bathroom door opened then, steam billowing out. Lu Quan glanced up, saw the new curtain, and dismissed it with a shift of his eyes. He sat in the chair, picked up his phone.

The message he’d sent that afternoon still had no reply.

His long, knuckled fingers tapped the screen.

[What are you doing?]

He’d just sent it when a notification chimed from the dorm—from Liang Zhixia’s bed.

Casually, he glanced over and caught sight of the other’s position.

Luckily, the pants weren’t hiked up this time. Then his gaze sharpened. Weren’t those the clothes Auntie Wang had bought for him?

His cold eyes swept over the young man, lingering at the collar.

With the bobbing motion, the oversized neckline bared snowy skin to the light, gleaming like jade.

Looked like he’d need to buy a new set after all.

The thought bubbled up inexplicably.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, pulled his gaze away, and stared at his still-silent phone.

In the half month they’d known each other, nothing like this had ever happened.

Ding.

[Just busy, Baby.]

[Can I know where you went today? Who’d you talk to?]

[Pitiful Kitten.jpg]

Liang Zhixia set his phone down. Normally, questions like that went unanswered.

But today felt different somehow.

He stared at the incoming messages, his expression freezing.

[L: Just showered. Went to the company for a partnership meeting today. Only exchanged a few words with the lead.]

Was that… actually answering him?

Liang Zhixia wasn’t sure. It just felt weird.

His slender brows furrowed, light tea-colored eyes flickering with doubt. He didn’t even know how to reply.

Lu Quan’s image flashed in his mind. If it were him, the man would probably just say “Mm.”

So, that’s all he sent back: “Mm.”

After sending the reply, he immediately silenced his phone and shoved it under his pillow—out of sight, out of mind.

He lifted the edge of his bed curtain and peeked through the gap. Lu Quan sat in a chair, head bowed over his phone, apparently texting someone.

His expression was icy cold, a chill radiating from his entire body.

After a moment of hesitation, he gently lay down, pulling the soft blanket over himself. A chaotic jumble of memories flashed through his mind. A long while passed before only the sound of shallow breathing emerged from behind the curtain.

The dormitory’s main lights were off. A tall, upright figure stood on the pitch-black balcony.

Faint moonlight slanted across the man, his face half-shrouded in shadow. His profile was sharp and well-defined, long black lashes drooping down. Beneath his high-bridged nose, his thin lips were pressed tight.

The phone’s chat window gradually dimmed, containing only a single “Mm.”

Cold. Indifferent.

His long, slender fingers pressed down on the voice key.

His voice was low and magnetic.

“Good night.”