When Ning Sui got back to the dorm, her steps were still slightly unsteady. It was around one-thirty in the morning, and the room still had the overhead light blazing — Liang Xinyue was perched on the desk eating fried chicken with great ease, while Bi Jiaxi and Yu Qin had their heads poking out from their beds. The three of them had clearly been in the middle of a lively conversation.
As Ning Sui came in, they all seemed to sense something and went quiet at once, though three pairs of bright eyes shot straight to the doorway, their expressions carrying a thousand layers of meaning.
Ning Sui’s footsteps even faltered reflexively: “How come you’re all still awake?”
She meant it as genuine puzzlement, but for some reason it came out sounding guilty.
Half an hour ago, she and the kind and amiable security guard had explained that they truly had only been scaling the wall — nothing more. But the guard wouldn’t hear a word of it, and proceeded to lecture the two of them at great length, not relenting no matter what they said.
It was only when he looked at them both and saw their clothes were more or less orderly that he asked for their student IDs, and agreed to let them go. When they finally left, he even gave Xie Yichen a solemn, meaningful piece of parting advice: “Young folks, I understand the impulse — but if you’re really feeling the urge, go find a decent hotel. What kind of thing is it to make a young lady freeze out here in this cold?”
Xie Yichen, who must have felt something approaching inner devastation at that point, lowered his thin, well-shaped eyelids and, throat moving calmly, replied with perfect composure: “Mm, it won’t happen again.”
“……”
This was a scene she would not revisit for all the money in the world. The entire walk back, Ning Sui had been wishing she could dig a hole in the ground and bury herself in it.
She still hadn’t fully sobered up — a mild, lingering dizziness, but not enough to make her stagger.
She had just set her bag on the table and sunk onto her seat when she heard Liang Xinyue’s voice, smiling: “Who were you with tonight? First time you’ve ever come back past midnight.”
“It was a club event — we were watching a film.” Ning Sui took off her soft wool beret and patted her cheeks, which had gone slightly red from the cold, with an unruffled expression.
Bi Jiaxi was the most straightforward of them all, believing everything she was told: “Really? Which club?”
“Tsinghua’s film club.”
Bi Jiaxi: “Oh, you went to Tsinghua?”
“Mm, they were screening it outdoors on the field.” Ning Sui hugged her clean pajamas and prepared to slip off to the shower.
Liang Xinyue’s eyes were sharp and bright. She asked suddenly: “Why do you have a leaf in your hair?”
“……?”
Ning Sui’s movement stiffened ever so slightly.
It was like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky. Her mind simply stopped working in that moment — perhaps because of the lingering alcohol-induced slowness, or perhaps because the security guard’s half-hour lecture had been so thoroughly imprinted — and she could not think of a single reason for having leaves in her hair other than “outdoor activities of the more intimate kind.”
Help!
Then Bi Jiaxi chimed in with complete matter-of-factness: “Weren’t you watching a film outdoors? Must have gotten some on you by accident.”
Oh right, of course.
Ning Sui used that reasoning to breeze through the moment with feigned calm and finally made it safely into the shower room.
Warm water cascaded down from overhead and quickly chased away the cold. But that faint, smoldering warmth and that indefinable trembling feeling were still quietly at work, and it wasn’t until about ten minutes later — when Ning Sui had changed and returned to the room — that she finally felt herself settle back to normal.
Liang Xinyue had finished her fried chicken. The overhead light was off, replaced by the small desk lamp.
Everyone had switched topics. Bi Jiaxi, sounding a little embarrassed, was asking: “Do you think — do girls actually feel something when they read that kind of writing?”
The topic hadn’t been hers to start — it was Liang Xinyue who had first mentioned she’d been reading a novel lately with almost no plot, just scene after scene of a certain kind.
It was deep into the night. Secret, restless energy was quietly fermenting in this girls’ dormitory. Liang Xinyue licked her lips and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial murmur: “Clearly you’ve never read one of those books.”
Bi Jiaxi wriggled and said, “I really haven’t. Are they very explicit?”
Yu Qin had some experience reading them, though not a lot. She cut in with a faint blush: “Depends on the level. Some are atmospheric, some are very blunt — verbs and nouns filling every line.”
Liang Xinyue said: “I prefer the atmospheric kind — half-hidden behind a lute, still leaving room for the reader’s imagination.”
Yu Qin agreed: “Same. Too blunt actually kills the feeling instantly.”
Ning Sui had already drowsily climbed into bed, but certain keywords made her listen on in quiet, wide-eyed attention.
She owed it to the vast experience of Hu Ke’er — who had read extensively in the romance fiction genre — for having had the good fortune to encounter some similar enlightening works herself.
But many things in books were hard to actually imagine yourself into. Reading them felt exciting, even requiring a few pauses to breathe before you could continue, but it was difficult to picture what they’d actually be like in reality. It felt like an entirely unexplored and unfamiliar territory.
Bi Jiaxi seemed to arrive at a realization and said quietly: “Isn’t the dorm next door asleep? Talking about this right now feels a bit… awkward.”
“What’s awkward about it,” Liang Xinyue said breezily, with a significant tone. “The boys’ dorms discuss things far more exciting than us.”
“Really?” Bi Jiaxi hesitated. “Like what?”
“Watching videos.” Liang Xinyue said, very mysteriously. “We prefer the beautiful, two-dimensional drawn kind. They prefer the rough, three-dimensional kind. The kind that moves.”
Bi Jiaxi was so startled she stumbled over her words: “R-really?”
“Really.” Liang Xinyue, being the only one in the dorm who currently had a boyfriend, spoke with considerable authority. “No matter what guy it is, they’ve definitely watched them in private, and they even discuss them in the dorms — don’t believe me, go ask. “
She paused and dropped her voice lower: “I’d bet that even someone like Yin Rui, who looks upright and gentlemanly on the outside, has definitely watched them.”
The room fell quiet after those words. From somewhere came a soft, barely-audible intake of breath — someone clearly lost in thought.
After a good while, Bi Jiaxi swallowed and said in a very small voice: “…So — what’s their reaction when they watch them?”
Liang Xinyue laughed: “Little Xixi, you really are the purest one in this dorm.”
Bi Jiaxi immediately lost the nerve to ask again.
But Liang Xinyue told her very directly and frankly anyway: “They get aroused. It’s a normal physiological response. And then they handle it manually while watching.”
The dorm fell into a rapid silence.
After about a few minutes, Bi Jiaxi’s frail and thin voice rose again: “What about girls?”
Liang Xinyue lay on her bed, languidly drawing out her words: “Little Xixi, if you’re that curious, I’ll recommend you a book. Read it, and experience the feeling for yourself.”
She sent a link in the group chat, and thoughtfully added: “You’ll need to copy and paste it into your browser.”
Ning Sui lay buried under her covers, her mind in a mode of very determined, deliberate blankness — before she even had time to process anything, she heard Bi Jiaxi let out a shriek of shame: “Ahhhhh I’m corrupted!!! I’m not pure anymore!!!”
—
In the first half of November, with the midterm exams approaching, everyone was unusually busy.
The Artificial Intelligence Technology professor had gone out of town for a conference, so the class had been moved online. Ning Sui didn’t even need to go to Tsinghua anymore — she could attend from the dorm room directly.
Perhaps in consideration of everyone needing to review course material, all the clubs had cut back on their activities. Even the music theatre club had kindly suspended rehearsals twice.
Their club was actually quite fun — everyone in it had an interesting personality. They were genuinely in the middle of rehearsing what amounted to a foreign “slice-of-life comedy,” depicting funny little moments from daily life. Rehearsals were full of energy and endless improvised moments.
Most of the club members studied science and engineering, including the club president, who was a computer science student. He would always edit the rehearsal behind-the-scenes moments into hilariously chaotic videos, or turn the most unflattering photos into emoji stickers to post in the group chat — all in all, someone who absolutely deserved to be beaten up.
Once everyone’s midterms were over, the music club resumed rehearsals. The evening Hu Ke’er came to meet Ning Sui for dinner, her eyes couldn’t help drifting around the room.
She lowered her voice, interested: “That tall guy in the first row on the right looks pretty handsome.”
Ning Sui had just changed out of her performance costume and was pulling her hair up: “He has a girlfriend.”
Hu Ke’er was quiet for a second, then looked a bit more: “What about the one in the plaid shirt over by the piano? He seems like he’s always alone — no girlfriend, I’d assume?”
Ning Sui nodded, and before Hu Ke’er’s mouth could finish curving upward, she heard her calmly add: “He’s gay.”
Hu Ke’er: “……”
The two of them bundled themselves up with scarves and walked out of the music hall, planning to find a nearby dining hall for dinner. Hu Ke’er said: “Your music theatre club has such high standards, honestly, everyone’s so good-looking, men and women alike.”
She paused, then asked: “Whatever happened to that Wu Zixiao?”
Wu Zixiao was the computer science student — also a member of the music theatre club — and it was through rehearsing the same production that he and Ning Sui had crossed paths.
Ning Sui hadn’t really paid attention, and had actually quietly breathed a sigh of relief when she hadn’t seen him today. Ever since she started giving him the cold shoulder, he seemed to have somewhat gotten the message.
“Not sure, probably took the day off for something.”
“Oh.” Hu Ke’er didn’t linger on that topic. She jumped quickly to another: “I want to break up.”
Ning Sui’s footsteps slowed slightly. The two of them walked alongside the sports field, and she asked: “Have you made up your mind?”
Hu Ke’er kept her head down. Even through the gloves she still felt cold, and blew quietly into her cupped hands: “Mm.”
“Why?”
“No particular reason.” Hu Ke’er took a deep breath. “Long-distance is just not that interesting. We got together in the first place because I wanted someone around, right? Now that person isn’t even here, and I don’t want to keep spending my energy thinking about it.”
“No other reason?”
Hu Ke’er glanced at Ning Sui, understanding what she meant, and gave a little sound: “He definitely hasn’t cheated. He’s just as buried as the rest of us every day, and on top of that he’s still trying to find his footing in a new language environment.”
“No — babe.” Ning Sui said gently. “I was of course asking about you.”
Hu Ke’er: “……”
Young, agile figures were running laps around the field. Ning Sui considered for a moment, and finally said seriously: “Just — once you’ve actually broken up, don’t look back.”
Hu Ke’er paused, then quickly assumed a lighter tone: “I know.”
The two of them managed to miss the peak dining hour and arrived at the cafeteria with good timing, picking out their meal sets with great satisfaction.
After a comfortable and satisfying dinner, Hu Ke’er was scrolling her phone with leisure when she came across Zhang Yuge’s Moments post and let out a curious noise: “Octopus-boy is at some place — posing with a male internet celebrity… wait. Xie Yichen’s in it too.”
Ning Sui had been absent-mindedly sipping her kiwi juice, and her expression flickered very slightly: “Hm? Zhang Yuge has started being an internet celebrity?”
“No, no!” Hu Ke’er was busy zooming in to examine the photo, excited. “Isn’t that the competitive gaming streamer with tens of millions of fans? How did they even get in touch?”
Ning Sui finally glanced at the phone she held out. They were visiting “Shanying” — the logo on the wall was very familiar.
She habitually bit down on her straw, lowering her lashes: “That’s Xie Yichen’s older cousin’s company — they manage some of the bigger streamers, I think.”
Hu Ke’er, just now learning that Shanying was his family’s company, was stunned: “My appreciation for Chen-bro’s family fortune reaches new heights. The crown prince of Huai’an, good lord — impressive!”
Hearing no reply after a while, Hu Ke’er looked up, puzzled: “Why aren’t you responding? What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
Ning Sui was staring at the logo of the shop behind her, and with utmost seriousness posed a question: “When do you think Mixue Ice Cream will be covered by national health insurance?”
Hu Ke’er: “……”
Today was the music club president’s birthday. He had booked a spot at a very popular KTV near the Workers’ Stadium, and told everyone to arrive around seven. Ning Sui ate early and took a taxi directly there.
The president had spared no expense, booking a large private room — spacious enough for nearly thirty people at full capacity.
When Ning Sui arrived, several fellow cast members had already shown up. The president was standing center stage with dramatic expressiveness, belting out the opening of “Love Until Death.”
The president was a genuine social butterfly, with friends spread across both schools. He had invited not only members of their Peking University music theatre club but also a steady stream of Tsinghua students, predominantly women. Before long the room was buzzing with chatter and noise.
Privately, many of them had always speculated about the president’s romantic orientation. A girl in the club named Zhong Lu, who Ning Sui was close with, sidled over and whispered regretfully in her ear: “Tsk tsk, so the rumors are confirmed. I thought there might be some handsome guys tonight.”
The words hadn’t even landed before the president somehow caught them from across the room. He shot her a look and said with great melodrama: “Who are you underestimating? I also have male friends, you know.”
He then straightened up proudly: “I’ve got a really good buddy coming, bringing their whole dorm. He says there’s one particularly well-known handsome guy in their year — anyway, you definitely won’t be disappointed tonight, you little aesthetics-obsessed creature.”
Zhong Lu raised an eyebrow: “And you’re allowing us to make our pick in your territory?”
The president raised an eyebrow right back: “I can leave my buddy for you.”
He paused, then grinned: “But his roommates, that I can’t promise.”
Just as they were talking, a few more male students came in — clearly from the other school, as Ning Sui didn’t recognize any of them. The president sat down in the middle and rallied everyone to stop holding back and start picking songs.
The colorful rotating overhead lights came on, and the atmosphere hit an instant high. Songs came one after another, and everyone was on trend — all the most popular tracks from current dramas and the internet.
Soon crate after crate of drinks was brought in, along with snack spreads and generous fruit platters. The room was full of the clinking of glasses, and everyone gathered in twos and threes to chat.
Before long, the door opened and the president called out: “My buddy’s here!”
Ning Sui was seated nearby and looked over — a lean male student came in, carrying a bag. He had a somewhat subdued expression and the unmistakable look of someone in computer science, reinforced by the laptop he had tucked under his arm.
The room was pretty lively, and everyone was doing their own thing, so no one paid much attention. The president went over and hugged him: “Hey, long time no see.”
The guy gave him a symbolic punch on the shoulder. The president looked him up and down and clicked his tongue: “You really are grinding, huh, my friend — brought a laptop to my birthday?”
After a pause, his small eyes swept around meaningfully: “Where are your roommates?”
The guy laughed: “Just had a class that ran late — they’ll be up in a moment.”
Ning Sui’s group of around ten people were enthusiastically playing dice — a game she hadn’t played before, but like Texas hold ’em, it came down to calculating probability. After observing a few rounds, she picked it up quickly.
Before long there was a low sound of surprise from the other side of the room. Ning Sui was nestled in a soft leather seat with people on both sides of her, and without really intending to, lifted her gaze — a few tall young men had walked in through the door at the far diagonal corner.
That spot was at the maximum distance from where she was sitting.
Xie Yichen came in last. He was wearing a slightly oversized black utility jacket. In the moment he turned to close the door, the light shifted and one half of his profile moved from brightness into shadow — the bridge of his nose high and straight, brows and eyes sharp and defined, his expression cool and compelling as he looked down.
Ning Sui heard a few girls near her begin to whisper: “God, who is that — he’s so handsome.”
The president was the first to go greet them, smiling so hard he’d practically bloomed. He’d known his buddy said the guys in their dorm were all good-looking — but he hadn’t expected this level.
He didn’t hold out much hope, really — this handsomest one clearly seemed perfectly straight. But the president felt that even just admiring the view was worthwhile. It had been a long time since he’d seen a man who fit his aesthetic so precisely.
All around, little murmured conversations continued. Ning Sui watched in silence as the group filed in.
Apart from Liu Chang and Qu Handong, the one who was apparently the president’s friend she hadn’t seen before. Xie Yichen had mentioned once that their fourth roommate, Shi Fu, was very dedicated to his studies and was often nowhere to be found — that was probably him.
The private room had three large marble tables. The group found seats. The president had originally wanted them to sit in the center, but Ning Sui watched as Xie Yichen gave a lazy half-smile, exchanged a few words with him, and then settled into a corner on that side.
She had just been about to look away when she saw him lift his gaze to scan the room — and then his eyes came directly toward where she was. Ning Sui’s instinct was to drop her gaze immediately, fixing it on the dice in front of her.
— She hadn’t made eye contact with him just now, right? Probably.
She felt as though that very present gaze still hadn’t moved, that it was still looking in this direction.
Right at that moment, it was her turn to roll the dice. Ning Sui just called out a random number.
Her pocket vibrated almost immediately. It was Xie Yichen — two messages, unhurried and unreadable in tone.
Xie Yichen: [If you want to look, just look openly]
Xie Yichen: [Ning Coconut, what are you hiding from?]
“……”
Since the night of the psychology lecture, he hadn’t come to find her again.
It wasn’t that Ning Sui was deliberately avoiding him either. She just had the feeling — though she couldn’t say why — that Xie Yichen seemed to understand exactly how to be around her.
Whenever he got close enough that Ning Sui felt it was approaching the threshold of being too intimate, before she could even start to feel uneasy, he would already pull back. The rhythm of it — the tightening and releasing — was managed with complete ease, with a kind of effortless skill.
But then she’d scroll through Moments and keep seeing him appearing in photos with the male friends she knew, laughing and talking.
Tsinghua’s activities were rich and varied — symphony performances, art troupe showcases, student festivals. Xie Yichen couldn’t possibly attend all of them, but whether it was because they had so many friends in common or some other reason, Ning Sui felt his frequency of appearance really was a little high.
His profile picture was particularly eye-catching too — from time to time it would show up among a string of likes, or be mentioned by a mutual friend in the comments.
A few days ago, Sun Xiaozhen had posted a Moments update, photographing her work desk — the prototype of their VE second-generation robot, mostly assembled by then, with the caption: [This is so amazing!!! We did it~ [peace sign]]
The edge of the photo caught a dark-colored jacket sleeve, and a hand with a cool-toned fair complexion — long-fingered and graceful, the knuckles well-defined, the wrist wearing a black mechanical watch that Ning Sui knew well.
Whom the praise was for went without saying.
Ning Sui was looking at her phone under the table, pressing her lips together for a moment, then composed a measured reply: [How do you know I was hiding if you weren’t looking at me?]
Not much time passed before a shadow fell across her from the side.
Then someone leaned against the edge of her space, unhurried, voice low and warm, frankly admitting it without a trace of embarrassment: “Because I was looking at you.”