Outside, our roommates argued lazily over video game ranks, their voices audible through the thin walls. But here inside this cramped space with Yichen’s arms bracketing me against the sink, breath ghosting warm against my skin it felt like a cage of heat and danger. Too close. Too intimate.
My throat bobbed nervously before I forced a weak chuckle. "You’re imagining things. Brothers can help each other with this kind of stuff. It’s not weird."
One brow arched. "Then why drag me in here? Could’ve done this in the dorm."
The tube wobbled between my fingers, my excuse tumbling fast: "Because ...... uh .....because the light’s better in here! Easier to see. Duh."
His stare burned holes through me, searching for truth.
But I forced my face into the picture of earnestness. "Told you. Why would I lie?"
Finally, he leaned back slightly. My fingers dabbed ointment gently onto his bruised lips, refusing to look anywhere but the tiny wound.
"All done." I jumped back like the job was finished, brushing my teeth with excessive focus so I wouldn’t have to face him. My shirt clung with cold sweat at the spine.
He didn’t say more, just lingered behind. The silence was worse than teasing.
Classes meant splitting up anyway. The athletic department was all the way south of campus, while the law building sat at the north end of Huashan University.
So after we left the dorm, Yichen and I parted ways.
With Hao and Ming cutting class, I snagged a corner seat in the law lecture hall, trying to disappear.
As I absentmindedly fiddled with a pen cap, a girl from the row in front turned, smiling sweetly. She was petite, sharp-browed, with warm eyes.
"Hey, are you Li Ansheng? You’re roommates with Zhou Yichen, right?"
Her tone was casual, but curious.
I froze, then nodded. "Yeah."
Her smile widened knowingly. "I thought so. You two must be close, huh? I mean, I keep seeing you wearing the same things scarves, hoodies, even the same brand of caps."
My eyes dropped instinctively to the thick wool scarf looped around my neck. Heat crawled instantly up my cheeks as I realized......
She was right.
It wasn’t just mine. I’d seen Zhou Yichen wear the exact same design, just in another color.
And somehow, I was suddenly boiling in the overheated classroom, face aflame.
The scarf around my neck and the hat on my head? Both were things Zhou Yichen had forced into my hands.
He’d shrugged and said he’d ordered the wrong colors too bright, not his style so I could have them.
I hadn’t thought much of it then. It was early in winter, and since I hadn’t bought new winter gear yet, I gratefully accepted.
Only later did I realize he’d gone back online and bought himself the same designs, just in darker shades.
When Wang Hao and Chen Ming noticed, they laughed their heads off and kept teasing us about wearing secret couple sets behind everyone’s back.
Pulling off the scarf now, I finally drew in a full breath, cheeks cooling. I smiled faintly. "He’s actually..... a really good guy."
The girl sitting in front of me immediately blushed. With almost painfully obvious shyness, she dug a pink envelope from her bag, faintly scented like roses.
It was unmistakably a love letter.
My first thought: Oh god. She’s confessing to me?
Heart pounding, I scrambled mentally for polite rejection lines.
But then she extended the envelope toward me and stammered, "Um…could you give this to Zhou Yichen for me?"
Wait. What?
My whole body froze.
What happened to confessions following normal scripts? I’d braced for an entirely different battlefield.
The relief that rushed through me was immediate but embarrassing. I coughed, forcing out quickly: "Sorry. He doesn’t let me take things for him."
And that wasn’t a lie.
It had been that way since the beginning of freshman year.
Zhou Yichen, with his sharp looks and bottomless silence, had quickly become the crush of half the campus. Confessions came daily, like clockwork.
Only problem? His rejections were ruthless, delivered cold and final.
Which made us his dormmates the unlucky messengers.
I remembered one particular evening, after military training. A girl shoved a box of chocolates into my hands, begging me to give it to him, then bolted before I could protest.
I did as she’d asked, still stunned.
Yichen took the box, glanced at it once and his expression darkened like thunder rolling in.
That very same night, he treated our entire dorm to dinner. Over beer and skewers, he looked at each one of us and said flatly, "If anyone asks you to pass along my number or any gifts, you tell them no. I’m not interested in dating. I hate it."
Then his eyes lingered pointedly on me.
The table roared with promises of brotherly loyalty, while I sank into my seat, lowering my head, sipping anxiously at my drink, pretending not to notice.
The next morning, the chocolate was in the trash.
So if I handed over this scented envelope now, he’d just toss it too if not worse.
The girl’s face fell. "Oh…I see. Then maybe I’ll just give it to him myself sometime." With that, she turned back around.
I pressed my lips together, guilt pricking sharp at my chest.
Because truthfully, there was another reason I hadn’t told her.
I liked Zhou Yichen too.
Which meant, whether she knew it or not she and I were rivals.
And that was the ugliest part.
I didn’t just sleepwalk into Yichen’s bed every night. I also harbored something selfish and entirely unbrotherly toward him.
Morning after morning, I pretended to be embarrassed, muttering apologies while secretly, deep down, savoring every second against his warmth.
The biting, though, that wasn’t planned. That was my own subconscious blowing my cover bit by bit. Every night it got worse.
It terrified me.
What if he figured it out that my "bad habit" wasn’t entirely innocent?
He’d pound me into the ground.
So today, with only a light schedule, I decided to invite him out to eat.
As a thank-you. At least, that was my excuse.
But also, if one day I ever sleepwalked too far and did something truly shameless, maybe the memory of free barbecue would soften how hard he swung when he beat me up for it.
With that in mind, I shot him a message.
But when my phone buzzed, I stared in horror.
I hadn’t sent it privately. I’d sent it to the dorm group chat.
Instantly, Wang Hao and Chen Ming blew up:
"Food? Free food? We’re in."
Facepalming, I gave up. "Fine. The more the merrier."
Yichen did message me separately after, though. Just five words: Meet me at the gym.
I sent a puppy-head-nod sticker back and set off, humming under my breath.
Chapter 03
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