I pretended not to understand: “Bones got stiff?”
Du Hongting: “…”
Me: “Wings got stiff?”
Du Hongting: “Shut up!”
Me: “Hahaha!”
The chubby guy said he needed some time alone to calm down.
As I watched his silently enduring figure, my heart was filled with regret.
Shouldn’t he, at a time like this, say to me, “Woman, you started the fire, you’re responsible for putting it out!” and then some indescribable things would happen?
Taking some time alone to calm down, what’s that about?
I asked him, how does one “calm down” alone?
He said, “Go back to the dorm, finish reading a book on ‘Numerical Linear Algebra.'”
Me: “…”
Du Hongting, oh Du Hongting, are you genuinely innocent or just pretending to be serious?
From that moment on, I knew I was no longer an innocent girl.
The next day.
Went to the supermarket for a big shopping spree with the chubby guy.
He bought so many things, too heavy for one person to carry, so he held a big bag in each hand.
After walking for a while, feeling hot and thirsty, we passed by a convenience store, and I suddenly wanted to eat a popsicle.
But I didn’t have any money.
He said he had some change in the left pocket of his pants.
I reached in and fumbled around, finding two coins.
Not enough.
I reached in again, searching and searching.
Now it’s enough.
He also said, “It’s enough.”
Biting his lips, trying to endure.
I glanced into the pocket—
It was too brutal, I couldn’t bear to look directly.
I reached into the pocket and said, “Do you want a popsicle?”
Du Hongting didn’t even look back; he just carried the bag and sprinted, “I don’t want! No money!”
Really?
There was clearly a lot of money in the pocket.
Finally catching up to him, the popsicle in my hand was melting, and water droplets were falling.
Instinctively, I licked in all directions.
I licked, and I licked, and I kept licking.
Du Hongting silently watched me for a while and suddenly said, “Meng Qiqi.”
Me: “Hmm?”
“Can you throw away the popsicle?”
Following his gaze, I looked at the stick-like object tightly held in my hand.
Oh.
He must have thought about that, right?
He said he had some change in the left pocket of his pants.
I reached in and fumbled around, finding two coins.
I reached in again, searching and searching.
Now it’s enough.
He also said, “It’s enough.”
Biting his lips, trying to endure.
I glanced into the pocket—
It was too brutal, I couldn’t bear to look directly.
I reached into the pocket and said, “Do you want a popsicle?”
Du Hongting didn’t even look back; he just carried the bag and sprinted, “I don’t want! No money!”
Really?
There was clearly a lot of money in the pocket.
Finally catching up to him, the popsicle in my hand was melting, and water droplets were falling.
Instinctively, I licked in all directions.
I licked, and I licked, and I kept licking.
Du Hongting silently watched me for a while and suddenly said, “Meng Qiqi.”
Me: “Hmm?”
“Can you throw away the popsicle?”
Following his gaze, I looked at the stick-like object tightly held in my hand.
Oh.
He must have thought about that, right?
I deliberately misinterpreted his meaning: “Are you complaining that my way of eating is too ugly?”
Du Hongting: “Throw it away!”
I was reluctant, so I took a big bite.
Du Hongting directly snatched my popsicle and threw it away.
Damn.
I was just enjoying a popsicle.
That chubby guy, his mind is filled with wicked thoughts.
In memory of that relentless popsicle.
I decided to retaliate against the chubby guy.
While eating cake, I “accidentally” smeared cream on my chest, raising my voice, “Oh dear, I’ve dirtied it!”
Making a high-profile scene to catch his attention.
When he looked over, I wiped the cream while muttering to myself, “I wonder if it got dirty inside despite messing up the outer clothes?”
Then, deliberately lowering the neckline to pretend not to notice.
His gaze began to vacillate.
Just at that moment—
I suddenly flipped my clothes!
Du Hongting quickly turned his face away, “What are you doing!”
I teased him, “Nothing, just flipping the clothes to see if it’s dirty on the other side?”
Haha.
His embarrassed appearance as he hurriedly went to the bathroom was truly pitiful.
It’s really a case of “those who brag, lose.”
During that time, I played pranks on him with full force, finding ways to embarrass him and then irresponsibly running away.
After playing so many times, my taste for mischief grew.
I felt like I had turned into a mango.
Externally yellow.
When strawberries were in season, I bought a few pounds and brought them to the chubby guy. However, he was engrossed in studying something related to operations research and nonlinear programming. When he saw me, he didn’t even lift his head. Even after I washed the strawberries, he showed no interest in eating.
Me: “Do you want to eat strawberries or not?”
He was still deeply immersed in his book and casually responded, “Hmm.”
I got angry. I planted a “strawberry” on his neck.
Upon closer inspection, he buried his head even lower.
His cheeks resembled ripe strawberries.
My anger instantly disappeared, and I asked him, “Is it delicious?”
He hesitated and replied, “…Delicious.”
Me: “Do you want another one?”
After some thought, he said, “Give me another pound.”
Cut it out! I knew he was pretending to be serious!
The chubby guy went through a phase of being obsessed with potato chips. He even boldly claimed that he could identify the flavor and brand just by closing his eyes.
I had a bold idea.
I bought over ten different types of potato chips and took them to his place.
Then, I blindfolded him.
I had him taste the first one.
After trying it, he said, “Lay’s Peking Duck flavor.”
Yo, that’s right.
Let’s try another one.
Without hesitation, the chubby guy said, “Pringles Sour Cream and Onion flavor.”
Me: “If you can guess the next one, I’ll admit defeat.”
The chubby guy sat upright, ready for the challenge.
I kissed him on the mouth.
Me: “Which brand? What flavor?”
Du Hongting froze.
After a while, he said, “Home brand, the taste of a wife.”
Alright, I’ll concede to you.
Even though the chubby guy and I often went on dates, at least fifty percent of the time was spent discussing academic matters. Honestly, I didn’t like it at all. What girl wants to spend date time arguing with her boyfriend over finance topics, with faces turning red and necks thick, as intense as a college debate competition? The key is, we are not on the same level at all. He crushes me in terms of intelligence. I have no chance to fight back! You’re a study god, and I’m a study slacker, and you’re still my boyfriend—can’t you cut me some slack?
I’m really angry. But between him and me, there’s a bizarre agreement—whenever we argue, we must resolve it on the spot. We have to end it by kissing each other. It’s so awkward, you know? I want to strangle him, but I have to kiss him.
So, I pouted, frowned, stomped my foot, and angrily gave him a peck on the mouth. He was also angry. He put his hands on his hips, circled around, then fiercely bent down, kissed me, and still seemed unsatisfied.
I kissed his neck hard. I was really pissed off. He cradled my face, squeezing it until it deformed, and planted a deep kiss on my lips. We exchanged kisses as if we were in a fight. It was a crazy exchange of saliva. Somehow, it felt good.
We ended up on the bed, and things were about to get intimate—sorry, I rolled my eyes. Chubby was on top of me, like Mount Tai pressing down. He was too heavy; my intestines were about to squeeze out. Later, we switched, and I was on top.
Chubby hesitated, “No.”
I said, “I’ll just rub against you, not go in.”
Chubby held my hands, “Did you tell your parents about us?”
I continued my advances, “Let’s talk about that later.”
Chubby insisted, men always care about appearances, such a hassle.
After playing this risky game several times, I realized that Aunt Flo hadn’t visited for a few days. Not good. I quietly went to a nearby shady clinic to buy a pregnancy test. Two lines showed up! Damn. I looked at the ads around the university city, “Do an abortion today, attend class tomorrow!” I regretted a bit. Started imagining an alternative life. Chubby didn’t want this child; my parents kicked me out, and then I ran away, wandering the streets begging, picking garbage for a living. Found a spoiled steamed bun in the trash for the baby to eat. Too tragic.
I went to Du Hongting to confess. The moment I saw him, I got angry. He even had two cups of iced milk tea in his hands. I said my body couldn’t handle cold things now. Du Hongting asked, “How many days each month?” I replied, “I’m pregnant.” Then I showed him the pregnancy test. Du Hongting stayed silent. He took the existing textbooks and demonstrated for me. He took a straw and poked it on the plastic film covering the milk tea, not penetrating it.
He said, “This way, it’s not done.”
Then, with a forceful “pop,” he punctured the straw, completely inserting it.
He said, “This way, it’s done.” I blankly took the milk tea, pulled out the straw, stared at the hole in the film, and then looked at him. Du Hongting shook his head, took out another unopened milk tea, stared at the intact film, and then pointed at me. It was like a silent play.
Now I understood, “I’m still a virgin?”
Du Hongting confirmed, “Yes.”