Rong Ting sometimes couldn’t quite figure out Ran Jiu, who generally approached most things with a lazy, indifferent attitude.
For instance, she never paid attention to the expiration dates of fruits and vegetables, sometimes not even realizing when the fruit in the fridge had gone bad. Or how she would buy all sorts of random bottles of alcohol and then forget where she’d put them, until Rong Ting fished the colorful bottles out from under the kitchen cabinet. She didn’t even take things seriously when she spoke—during her livestreams, she’d face fans’ unreasonable demands without getting annoyed, coaxing and tricking her way through.
But now, she was being earnest and particular about this matter, with just a hint of resentment.
Seeing Rong Ting silent, she complained with a mix of grievance and petulance, “I’m used to you, that’s why I let you touch it. I don’t let anyone else touch it.”
Rong Ting was momentarily dazed before catching onto the bizarre point. “What? Who else wants to touch it?”
But Ran Jiu had already turned her back and bent over, the pale, prominent vertebrae starkly visible. Hunched over as she searched for something, her voice came out muffled, “I don’t know what I did to upset you, but it must be my fault. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?”
Her plea was sincere, as if she were genuinely trying to appease her.
Rong Ting let out a helpless laugh, opening her mouth but unable to say anything. She couldn’t even utter the words “it’s fine,” because it wasn’t her fault to begin with.
Unwilling to dwell on it further, Rong Ting pressed her lips together and turned her face away, as if trying to hide her expression.
Ran Jiu, however, continued searching diligently for whatever it was, not getting up for quite some time.
Just as Rong Ting felt awkward and was about to crouch down to see what she was looking for, Ran Jiu suddenly lifted her head. Her slightly parted lips were mere inches from Rong Ting’s, startling her so much she nearly jumped on the spot.
But Ran Jiu didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Instead, she waved the item in her hand like a treasure. “I made you angry yesterday, so I’ll treat you to a cartoon.”
Looking at the disc of The Mole swaying in her hand, Rong Ting didn’t know what to say.
This person’s emotions came and went quickly, and going along with her wasn’t so bad.
Besides, if she really had to explain, she couldn’t articulate it clearly anyway.
“Don’t laugh at me. Everything online is pirated, full of glitches and ads. This is much better to watch,” Ran Jiu said as she inserted the disc, proudly introducing it as if they were about to watch some high-level indie film.
She got up and turned off all the lights. The large concave computer screen began loading, and the visual quality was indeed excellent.
Suddenly, something brushed against Rong Ting’s back, making her jump up as if electrocuted.
Turning around, she saw that Ran Jiu had simply placed a small dolphin-shaped cushion by her legs, looking puzzled by her reaction. “Sit on this.”
The cushion was soft and fluffy. When she sat down, it sank quickly, bringing her almost level with the bed. Ran Jiu pulled up a matching lion-shaped stool and sat beside her, the two of them so close they could hear each other’s breathing.
On the screen, the mole bounced around, its small body, big eyes, and pointy red nose creating an oddly comical effect. In winter, it gathered food, pushing fruits of all sizes into its burrow.
The scene was both adorable and bittersweet. Rong Ting smiled, thinking she was a bit like this mole, forced to hide her unspeakable secrets away in a burrow.
The person beside her suddenly shifted. Ran Jiu fumbled for something, and the light in the room changed dramatically. Beams of light with purple patterns now illuminated the walls and ceiling, yet they weren’t harsh. Instead, they felt warm and romantic.
Rong Ting was taken aback. “What is this?”
Ran Jiu hummed softly. “I had it installed when I moved in. I call it the Purple Universe! Isn’t it pretty?”
Rong Ting reached out her hand, and the light spots fell on it like mist or fine snow. “It’s beautiful. Why did you decide to install this?”
Ran Jiu’s answer was simple. “It looks nice. It’s fun.”
After a moment’s thought, she added, “It helps me think.”
With the lights off, they watched several episodes of The Mole’s Story. As more and more animals appeared on screen, Rong Ting yawned, her gaze drifting toward the person beside her.
When Ran Jiu sat quietly, she looked like a pretty little doll. The shifting light sometimes fell on her face, illuminating her delicate and striking features. Her long, slightly curled eyelashes made her seem more vibrant than usual.
Soon, however, Rong Ting noticed something odd.
Her eyelashes weren’t moving at all.
Rong Ting: “…” She waved her hand in front of Ran Jiu’s face, and sure enough, there was no reaction. Sighing softly, she stood up from the chair, rubbed her numb calves, and went to turn on the light.
When she returned, Ran Jiu was still asleep, her arms resting on her legs, fists propping up her chin, her posture surprisingly steady.
A faint smile touched Rong Ting’s lips. She leaned closer and slowly poked Ran Jiu’s cheek with a finger. Ran Jiu’s face was small, with only a thin layer of flesh. When she didn’t wake, Rong Ting poked the other cheek.
Finally, Ran Jiu stirred, letting out a soft, dissatisfied murmur that made Rong Ting quickly withdraw her hand.
But Ran Jiu only blinked a few times before falling back asleep.
Outside, rain had begun to fall at some point. Light tapping sounds echoed against the uncurtained window, blooming into raindrop patterns. Ran Jiu was light, and Rong Ting had no trouble moving her to the bed. She turned back to eject the disc, shut down the computer, and when she looked again, Ran Jiu had already burrowed into the blankets, finding a comfortable sleeping position.
Rong Ting turned off all the lights and was about to leave when she heard a soft murmur from the bed.
It sounded like, “Can we have shaomai tomorrow?”
Rong Ting thought for a moment, then returned to her room and placed the chocolate her tutor had given her beside Ran Jiu’s pillow. “As for shaomai, we’ll see when I’m in a good mood.”
Early the next morning, Rong Ting washed up and headed to school for her major classes. The atmosphere in the classroom grew noticeably quiet the moment she walked in.
After setting down her books, she opened her laptop and began working on her midterm paper, as if completely unaware of the others’ cautious demeanor. Her calm composure made the others seem unnecessarily tense, and soon everyone returned to their own tasks.
After class, Rong Ting felt it was time to settle some matters.
Also, she had calculated the rent for three years the night before—it was within her means.
She had no intention of returning to that dormitory.
When she moved out earlier, she had only taken the essentials and some books she needed for the semester. However, her study guides and extracurricular professional books were still in the dorm. Rong Ting decided to move everything out for good.
There were only Wan Sang and Wang Qing in the dormitory. When Rong Ting entered, Wan Sang had been gossiping with someone else, but upon seeing her come in, her expression immediately changed, and she loudly pulled her bed curtain shut.
Rong Ting went to her own bunk, first sweeping aside the items on the desk that didn’t belong to her, then carefully packing her books one by one into her backpack.
Hearing the noise, Wan Sang peeked out. She had thought Rong Ting wouldn’t return this semester and had piled many of her small belongings on Rong Ting’s desk. Now, seeing her own power strip dangling precariously, she felt both annoyed and guilty, resorting to a sarcastic tone: “Some people don’t come back even once a semester, don’t bother cleaning for dorm evaluations, yet they sure cling tightly to their own territory.”
Hearing this, Rong Ting turned around. Wan Sang, caught off guard, met her gaze directly and was startled by her silent, indifferent expression.
Rong Ting spoke to her calmly one last time: “I paid for this bunk, so even if I never stay here, my desk and bed are not your storage space.”
Wan Sang’s face turned pale with anger, but the argument from yesterday still lingered in her mind, making her wary. She was the type who loved stirring up trouble but shrank from facing others’ anger when things got serious. Previously, seeing Rong Ting as mild-tempered, she had always treated her as an easy target. Now, however, she found herself hesitating before speaking.
Rong Ting glanced at her coldly. “Also, you don’t need to think I have the time to watch you. If you don’t want the bed curtain, just take it down. Pulling it back and forth is quite a hassle.”
After this exchange, the expressions of the two in the dormitory shifted dramatically. Rong Ting ignored them, picked up her things, and headed downstairs.
From 1:30 p.m., she had four consecutive classes, so she sent a message to Ran Jiu at noon, saying the lunchbox she had prepared the night before was still frozen in the fridge. If Ran Jiu was home at noon, she could simply heat it up in the microwave.
The other person replied with an OK gesture.
Rong Ting smiled briefly, but then the other person sent a “mwah” emoji.
Rong Ting’s smile froze for a moment, her cheeks flushing slightly as she turned off the screen.
The afternoon class was a general elective, one she was quite interested in this semester: “Gender and Family.” The professor teaching this course was a renowned expert in domestic feminism, focusing on several feminist works. This lesson covered Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex.
In class, the professor discussed the social distinctions and connections between the two genders, emphasizing that all sexual orientations are equal. At the end of the lesson, she concluded with a quote from the book:
“Homosexuality is neither a deliberate perversion nor an inevitable curse. It is an attitude chosen within a situation—both provoked and voluntarily adopted. Like all human behaviors, homosexuality can lead to pretense, imbalance, failure, or lies. Conversely, it can become a source of rich experiences, depending on how it is lived—whether in self-deception, laziness, and inauthenticity, or in clarity, generosity, and freedom.”
After class, as Rong Ting finished packing her things and was about to leave, she felt someone tap her from behind.
Turning around, she saw it was Chen Saiyu and immediately adopted a neutral expression. “What is it?”
At the beginning of the semester, only a few students from their class had chosen this course, as the professor was famously strict in the School of Social Sciences—attendance was closely monitored, and grades were given sparingly. While Rong Ting had chosen the class purely out of interest, Chen Saiyu had followed her in selecting it.
But ever since she moved out of the dorm, their relationship had cooled considerably.
Chen Saiyu looked somewhat uneasy, her eyes filled with helplessness and sorrow. “I heard from Wan Sang that you came back at noon.”
“Yeah,” Rong Ting didn’t slow her pace, guessing Wan Sang probably didn’t have anything good to say. “I went back to pack my things.”
Chen Saiyu seemed surprised. “You’re not planning to come back?”
“No.”
Chen Saiyu scratched her head. “I really didn’t expect things to turn out like this. Wan Sang is just very sensitive. Remember last semester when scholarships were awarded? She was originally at the bottom of the second-tier list, but then her comprehensive evaluation got pushed down, and you ended up taking both first places. So, it’s understandable that she’s feeling unbalanced.”
Rong Ting neither agreed nor disagreed. “So, she got pushed down just because of my one spot? Or do I need to apologize for that?”
“Of course not,” Chen Saiyu mumbled. “But she probably hoped you’d help her out. You hardly ever spent time in the dorm. At first, Wan Sang said you were all over the place, treating the library like home, remember? She was already a bit unhappy back then. Your schedule was always packed—like you never spared any time for us. Sometimes we could only helplessly watch the gap between us grow, and it put a lot of pressure on us—”
Rong Ting interrupted her. “Thank you for being honest with me. Now you don’t have to deal with that pressure anymore.”
Chen Saiyu suddenly grabbed her arm. “Rong Ting, I’ve noticed you’ve really changed a lot lately.”
Rong Ting paused. “What?”
Chen Saiyu hesitated, blinking. “Before, you never spoke so selfishly or harshly.”
Selfish and harsh?
Rong Ting laughed in frustration. “Maybe it’s because I don’t have to share a roof with you anymore. After all, there’s nothing left for me to worry about now.”
“No, something’s off.” Chen Saiyu’s expression grew serious. “Is it because of that girl? The one outside the print shop. You two seemed really close.”
Rong Ting took a deep breath, surprised she’d have to use the same excuse as Ran Jiu to brush someone off. “She’s just my roommate.”
“Maybe not.” Chen Saiyu hesitated before asking, “Rong Ting, are you a lesbian now?”
Rong Ting understood what “lesbian” meant, thanks to the course she’d taken. The teacher had introduced various concepts related to LGBT in the first class, and she’d made a note of them to remember for the exam.
Lesbian, “les,” short for female homosexual.
“No, I’m not,” she replied curtly, deliberately emphasizing each word. “I remember telling you before not to judge others based on your assumptions, and not to trust your own guesses too much.”
Chen Saiyu reflexively explained, “It’s not my assumption. That day outside the print shop, the way you looked at her was off… Oh, and the way she looked at you was off too.”
“Chen Saiyu!” Rong Ting finally snapped, calling her name in frustration, struggling to control her emotions. “At the very least, I still consider you my closest dormmate. Please consider my feelings.”
Chen Saiyu seemed to realize she was at fault, her lips trembling, but no words came out.
Rong Ting abruptly stopped in her tracks. “You always talk about how I am, how others are, but why do you never reflect on your own actions? Let me ask you, when you misled Wan Sang about the exam scope, why did you end up shifting the blame onto me?”
She stepped closer. “And last summer, when I was organizing the summer sports event and the volunteer teaching program for the student council, you clearly knew about it. So why did you tell them I was preparing for graduate school admission?”
Though Rong Ting’s voice wasn’t particularly loud, Chen Saiyu felt a chill run down her spine.
During the final exams of their freshman year, Wan Sang, who never paid attention in class, had asked them for study materials at the last minute. Chen Saiyu had generously given her outdated materials from an old textbook, but the exam ended up covering content from the new edition, rendering everything Wan Sang had memorized useless.
With her fiery temper, Wan Sang couldn’t let it slide. After the exam, she confronted Chen Saiyu.
Panicked, Chen Saiyu hastily claimed that Rong Ting had sent her the materials and that she, too, had been misled. Afraid Wan Sang might confront Rong Ting, she even added, as if to cover her tracks, that Rong Ting hadn’t meant any harm. Little did she know this only fueled Wan Sang’s anger, prompting her to seek out Rong Ting directly.
At the time, Rong Ting was working part-time at the library and only learned about the incident when Wan Sang confronted her. She recalled giving Chen Saiyu study materials, but hers had matched the exam scope. Assuming Chen Saiyu had simply sent the wrong files by mistake, Rong Ting saw it as an honest error and neither exposed her nor dwelled on the matter.
Later, as her relationship with her roommates deteriorated, Rong Ting remained clueless, still trying to figure out how to improve the dorm dynamic.
That summer, she was busy with student council work, helping her senior prepare for the volunteer teaching program and the summer sports event. She was constantly on her feet, sometimes unable to return to the dorm on time. Worried about being misunderstood, she had told Chen Saiyu about her busy schedule and even asked her to leave the door unlocked.
But one day, after going out of her way to buy a watermelon and bring it back to the dorm, she overheard something that made her heart sink.
Through the door, Wan Sang was complaining loudly about Rong Ting not returning to the dorm on time and always disturbing her sleep.
Rong Ting had hoped Chen Saiyu would explain on her behalf. Instead, she heard Chen say in a casual tone, “Cut her some slack. Rong Ting’s been preparing for graduate school admission lately. We shouldn’t disturb her.”
Wan Sang immediately exploded. “What?! Why should we suffer just because she’s ambitious? She wakes up so early every morning to go to the library and always disturbs my sleep! And now she’s not even coming back. Seriously…”
Chen Saiyu chimed in, “Just bear with it. What’s wrong with her being driven?”
This only made Wan Sang angrier. “She’s the definition of an overachiever! Who starts preparing for grad school this early? What a schemer—probably trying to snatch a supervisor. No wonder Professor Luo treats her so well. Hmph, it must be because…”
Rong Ting didn’t hear the rest. That scorching summer day, she didn’t return to the dorm. Instead, she sat blankly in the cafeteria all afternoon, her heart as cold as the watermelon she had bought.
Later, she heard more and more comments like these. They were like the nine hundred and ninety-nine straws before the camel’s back broke—not exactly heinous, but suffocating enough to leave her waiting, breath held, for the final blow.
“Rong Ting, I—”
“Enough!” Rong Ting frowned. “You know Wan Sang is sensitive, yet you always bring up my achievements in front of her. You know she also wants to get into grad school, yet you constantly use me to undermine her. My relationship with the dorm has been strained for a long time. Have you ever tried to mediate? Have you ever once spoken up for me?”
Her voice grew more aggrieved as she spoke, emotions slipping beyond her control. “No! You deliberately left me isolated and helpless, making it so I could only talk to you, had to listen to everything you said, everything I did had to be tied to you—even pulling Wan Sang and the others over to your side. So, how does it feel to enjoy favors from both sides at once?”
Chen Saiyu fell silent, unable to even lift her head in the face of these truths. When she had done those things, there had indeed been a very selfish thought in her heart.
Rong Ting was gentle and kind, excelled in her studies, and always knew how to comfort those around her, never begrudging her efforts. Sometimes, Chen Saiyu thought, if only such a good person would rely solely on her in the future, if only she could be her best friend.
She had resorted to underhanded tricks, distancing Rong Ting from her social circle, making her learn to depend on her and listen only to her. She just hadn’t expected that such drastic measures wouldn’t necessarily lead to a good outcome. Because Rong Ting had been driven away by them.
Chen Saiyu’s face flushed and paled in turns. She tried several times to stammer out an explanation, but seeing the other’s icy, indifferent expression, she ended up saying nothing at all.
After Chen Saiyu had walked away, Rong Ting let out a heavy sigh, her hands trembling and nearly soaked with cold sweat.
Returning home, her thoughts were in turmoil. Remembering Chen Saiyu’s question, it took her a long time to calm down.
The words from class had served as a warning: same-sex relationships could lead to pretense, imbalance, failure, lies…
She was afraid of becoming someone like Chen Saiyu.
And now, was she already such a person?
That evening, while working on a group assignment, Rong Ting heard the faint sound of the door lock turning. Her fingers paused immediately.
She heard Ran Jiu quietly close the door, change her shoes, and follow her usual routine into the bathroom, followed by the sound of running water at the sink.
After leaving the bathroom, footsteps approached the bedroom area. Instead of returning to her own room, Ran Jiu gently knocked on Rong Ting’s door.
“Tingting, are you in there?”
Rong Ting stood up in a fluster, opening the door while trying to appear composed. “What’s wrong?”
Ran Jiu had just returned from outside, carrying a hint of the night’s chill. Her cheeks were tinged with a faint pink, and her amber eyes were bright. “Was it you who left the chocolate on my bed yesterday?”
Rong Ting nodded. “Yeah, my tutor gave it to me.” She added, as if to cover up, “I’ve been a bit under the weather lately, so I can’t eat chocolate. I thought you might like it.”
Ran Jiu didn’t seem to mind the clumsy explanation. Her eyes curved into crescents. “It was delicious. Thank you.”
When she smiled, she was just a tiny bit beautiful.
Rong Ting blinked uncomfortably and gave a weak “Mm.”
Ran Jiu pressed further, “What brand of chocolate was it? I’d like to buy it again if I come across it.”
Rong Ting thought for a moment. The chocolate’s label was from a German brand—one she hadn’t even tried herself. Besides, she didn’t know the Chinese name for this chocolate in local supermarkets.
She casually uttered a few German words.
Ran Jiu stared wide-eyed. “Huh?”
“It’s German,” Rong Ting explained honestly. “The chocolate didn’t have a Chinese label, so I don’t know its Chinese name. Maybe you can find it in larger supermarkets or specialty stores near Sanyuanqiao.”
Ran Jiu’s eyes lit up even more. “I’ve heard German is really hard to learn. You’re amazing. Could you teach me?”
Seeing Rong Ting not respond, she pouted, equally proud and stubborn, “It’s just a name, isn’t it? I’ll learn it, and next time I come across it, I’ll buy it.”
Rong Ting sighed helplessly and repeated it once more.
Ran Jiu followed along, her pronunciation passable but with a slight flaw. There was a uvular sound in it that she just couldn’t manage, making her laugh in frustration.
Rong Ting reassured her, “You’re doing really well.”
Ran Jiu wasn’t convinced. “It doesn’t sound the same as when you say it. Don’t brush me off—teach me properly.”
Rong Ting had no choice but to patiently pronounce the word slowly, emphasizing the uvular sound.
Ran Jiu had a decent knack for languages and quickly mimicked it quite well, but that uvular sound remained elusive. Her competitive spirit flared up, and she insisted that Rong Ting teach her that sound again.
Rong Ting said, “The uvular trill isn’t something you can master in one go.”
“How did you practice it?”
Rong Ting thought for a moment. “I practiced while gargling in the morning, and I had a foreign tutor helping me.”
Ran Jiu pouted. “Then teach me the same way your tutor taught you.”
Later, the two sat on the sofa, each with a glass of water in front of them. Rong Ting reluctantly took Ran Jiu’s hand, aligning only the index and middle fingers, and placed them against her own throat. She took a sip of water, produced the sound, then swallowed. “Did you feel it?”
Ran Jiu’s gaze flickered away. She withdrew her freed hand, curling her fingertips slightly. “I think… I think I felt it.”
“Then give it a try?”
A subtle, ambiguous atmosphere slowly spread, like a sudden breeze stirring ripples.
Ran Jiu seemed not to have heard, remaining still for a long while.
Rong Ting frowned. “Is it too difficult? Do you still want to learn?”
Seeing no response after a while, Rong Ting assumed she was too shy to make the sound with water in her mouth and was about to call it a day.
Unexpectedly, Ran Jiu suddenly took her hand and placed it against her own throat, carefully humming a sound.
“Then listen—is this right?”