At the entrance of the dormitory building.
Qin Yichi reached out and took hold of the handle of her suitcase. His phoenix eyes were deep like a pool, the lines of his profile smooth and fluid, as he said casually:
“I’ll carry it up for you.”
Qiao Zhen froze, about to refuse.
But Qin Yichi seemed to have already guessed what she was thinking, adding nonchalantly:
“I’m the type who just likes exercise. Likes carrying things.”
Qiao Zhen paused, then followed behind him, saying softly, “Oh… thank you.”
Likes exercise…
Qiao Zhen’s lashes trembled slightly, and the tips of her ears quietly turned pink.
Qin Yichi indeed had an exceptional athletic gift—training on motorcycles every day, strong and vigorous, with incredible stamina.
So incredible that in her previous life, on their wedding night, he’d knocked her unconscious…
Qiao Zhen shook her head, patted her cheeks with her hand to clear her mind, and tried hard to forget those steamy images.
Qin Yichi tilted his head slightly, his expression languid: “Room 609, right?”
“Mhm mhm!” Qiao Zhen nodded like a little pestle, but a moment later, a flicker of suspicion crossed her eyes.
How come even her dorm room number was so clearly remembered by him?
Well, it made sense—his memory had always been excellent, the kind that never forgot anything. Super smart.
Qin Yichi lifted her suitcase with one hand, hoisting it up with ease. The heavy 26-inch suitcase was as light as cotton in his grip.
He walked ahead, taking two or three steps at a time, dressed all in black, which made his silhouette look tall and straight, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. And more importantly—
What a perky butt!
Qiao Zhen blinked, hastily lowering her head.
Ever since she dreamed of marrying Qin Yichi in her previous life, she simply couldn’t look at him straight anymore. Help, wuwuwu!!
At the door of Room 609.
Qin Yichi set down the pink suitcase gently, his gaze landing on Qiao Zhen.
The girl kept her head lowered, her cheeks fair and flawless, her eyes clear and pure, as if holding the shimmer of autumn water—clean as a blank sheet of paper, untouched by any stain. Pretty and soft and obedient.
She slowly pulled a bottle of strawberry yogurt from her backpack and dutifully handed it to him:
“Thank you. Here, for you to drink.”
Qin Yichi gave a soft “Mm,” took the yogurt, his face calm and composed, and turned to leave without a ripple of emotion.
But once his back was turned, the man’s gaze suddenly grew dark and unreadable. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and a faint flush crept up the tips of his ears…
Back in the dorm, Qiao Zhen tidied her desk briefly and unpacked her luggage.
Half an hour later, a short-haired girl came hauling a massive suitcase, panting heavily, her face bright red.
“Damn it, I’m exhausted! Sixth floor, sixth floor! Would it kill the school to install an elevator for us fragile college students?!”
Sheng Lulu was dead tired, cursing under her breath. She pushed her suitcase through the door, then widened her eyes in shock:
“Whoa, Zhenzhen, you even mopped the floor for me?!”
Qiao Zhen’s dorm was a four-person mixed room. She majored in music performance, while Sheng Lulu was in painting and design—both of them freshmen. The other two were sophomore seniors from different majors.
Qiao Zhen gave a gentle smile: “Just did it as a little favor for you.”
“Love you, love you~” Sheng Lulu’s heart nearly melted; she wanted to hug her and nibble on her. “Oh, by the way, how are things going with you and the Chairman?”
At that, Qiao Zhen lowered her lashes, her eyes gradually turning red, her expression souring. She shook her head.
Ji Xian was the student council president, a sophomore in finance, ranked first in GPA, first in competitions, and—more crucially—the heir to a wealthy family.
From First High to Jing University, he had always been the pride of heaven, the moon in the sky, an existence forever out of reach.
Qiao Zhen had chased after him for three years.
Until a few days ago, she began having frequent dreams of fragments from a past life: Ji Xian’s years of cold indifference, like a sharp blade, viciously stabbing into her heart, spilling out sour and bitter blood…
Seeing Qiao Zhen’s red-rimmed eyes and her reluctance to speak of it, Sheng Lulu stopped pressing and reached out to squeeze Qiao Zhen’s hand in comfort.
How Ji Xian had strung Qiao Zhen along, how Ji Xian’s friends had bullied and belittled Qiao Zhen—Sheng Lulu had seen every bit of it clearly.
Just thinking about it made her furious! Furious to death!
Sheng Lulu silently ranted in her head, tearing Ji Xian apart:
Damn, I can’t stand pretentious people! So what if you’re good-looking, you dead-fish ice cube!
That evening, Sheng Lulu opened the food delivery app, lying in bed and yawning. “Fried chicken with cola, my source of happiness~ Zhenzhen, want me to order you some too?”
She loved ordering takeout—no way was she climbing up to the sixth floor again, that would be exhausting!
Qiao Zhen finished tidying up, looked up, and curved her lips into a smile. “No need, I’ll head to the cafeteria later.”
There was a new event today—anyone who dined in at the school cafeteria could get a free serving of fruit double-skin milk.
Free!
But the moment she arrived at the cafeteria, Qiao Zhen instantly regretted it.
College students loved free things, and the usually quiet cafeteria had suddenly become packed with people.
The last serving of fruit double-skin milk was taken by the person right in front of Qiao Zhen.
Qiao Zhen stared longingly at the now-empty container, pressed her lips together, her lashes drooping slightly, a flicker of disappointment passing through her eyes.
She ordered a bowl of pickled mustard pork noodles and carried her tray to find a seat.
The cafeteria was completely full, except for one table in the corner where six or seven guys were sitting, with exactly one empty seat left.
As Qiao Zhen approached, she gradually recognized that Qin Yichi was among those sitting there.
The lighting was dim, and the man lounged lazily against his chair, half his face hidden in the shadows, adding a touch of menace to his presence.
His gaze was deep and dark, and he happened to be looking at her.
Or rather, he had spotted Qiao Zhen long ago and was even crooking his finger at her, signaling her to come sit with them.
Qiao Zhen carried her tray and obediently walked over.
Hearing the commotion, the guys who had been wolfing down their food all looked up.
The girl had a first-love face, fair skin, hair tied in a bun, wearing a beige long dress—she looked like a cherry blossom about to bloom.
Her eyes curved as she smiled, revealing playful dimples at the corners of her lips, like a bright and dazzling star in the sky—beautiful and pure.
She looked like a fairy!
Qin Yichi curled the corner of his mouth, his messy bangs adding a wild edge as he spoke first:
“No one’s sitting there. Have a seat.”
His voice even carried a hint of inexplicable tenderness.
The guys at the table instantly had their pupils dilate in shock, frozen in place, utterly incredulous.
What the hell? Did they hear that right?
Qin Yichi, that woman-avoiding living demon, that arrogant, scowling misanthrope—was now actually smiling at a girl so tenderly?
And his voice was this gentle?
Brother Chi must have taken the wrong pills today!!
Under their stunned gazes, Qiao Zhen slowly sat down, facing Qin Yichi.
She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagination, but she kept feeling like the person across from her seemed to be in an especially good mood?
Qiao Zhen didn’t think much of it and lowered her head to quietly eat her pickled mustard pork noodles, trying her best to ignore the guys’ astonished expressions.
She ate her noodles in small bites, very quietly, barely making a sound.
Qin Yichi suddenly spoke up: “Why didn’t you get a double-skin milk?”
Qiao Zhen glanced at the table—each of the boys had a double-skin milk sitting in front of them.
Sure enough, everyone had one, except for her.
Her chopsticks paused mid-air. She chewed her noodles slowly, her voice barely a whisper: “They’ve already run out.”
And of course, it just so happened that when it was her turn, there were none left.
Qiao Zhen lowered her head again, her whole demeanor deflated.
After all, luck had never really been on her side.
Suddenly, a warm, strong hand pressed down on a double-skin milk and slid it in front of her.
Qiao Zhen looked up, startled. “Hmm?”
The cafeteria was noisy, but Qin Yichi’s gaze was fixed on her. His lazy voice drifted into her ears, wild and alluring:
“Here, take mine. I wasn’t in the mood for it anyway.”
Qiao Zhen stared at the double-skin milk that had been pushed toward her, a strange feeling stirring in her chest. She murmured a soft “thank you.”
She lowered her head, taking a tactical sip of her soup to hide whatever she was feeling.
The next second, a cool, aloof figure suddenly entered her peripheral vision.
Qiao Zhen, as if sensing something, lifted her head slightly.
Ji Xian stood not far away, dressed in a white shirt—cold and refined, his glass-like eyes exquisite and translucent. He was like a bright, flawless moon, visible yet utterly out of reach.
His gaze landed precisely on Qiao Zhen, icy as frost, as if the very air around them had dropped to freezing point!