Chapter 5: Acting Coy

As soon as Ji Pei got home, she started cleaning up the mess on the floor, sighing as she worked.

The culprit, Xue Meiniang (her cat), showed no remorse, jumping onto Ji Pei’s back and rubbing its fluffy head against her chin.

Half of Ji Pei’s frustration melted away instantly.

She let out a cold huff, determined not to let the cat’s charm sway her so easily—otherwise, she’d be a pretty pathetic pet owner.

“Hmph, don’t think you can seduce me with your cuteness and get away with it.”

Ji Pei crouched down, carefully picking up shards of a blue-and-white porcelain vase she’d brought back from Jingdezhen just days ago. It hadn’t even lasted a week before meeting its tragic end.

Dongri: [Home yet?]

Ji Pei kept her phone’s notifications on at home. The moment she heard that distinct “didi” sound, she knew it was Dongri messaging her.

But Ji Pei wasn’t in the mood to reply. She knew if she said she was home, Dongri would probably send some inappropriate comments.

When they first started dating, Ji Pei felt Dongri was reliable and proper. But as time went on, it was like she’d turned into a different person.

After cleaning the house, Ji Pei locked the two cats and one dog in separate rooms, then stripped off her clothes and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Dongri had once said something even more outrageous, asking for photos of Ji Pei in the bathroom.

Dizzy with temptation, Ji Pei had nearly agreed to the unreasonable request but ended up taking a cold shower and refusing.

Warm water droplets cascaded down, gliding over Ji Pei’s soft, fair skin, trailing along her calves and ankles.

Sitting in the bathtub, Ji Pei had scattered a few rose petals into the water and placed a plate of fruit nearby.

With music playing from the bathroom speaker, Ji Pei ate a piece of orange, dried her hands, and picked up her phone to reply to Dongri.

Jifeng: [Darling, I’m busy right now. I’ll message you later.]

Jifeng: [Kiss kiss.JPG]

Setting the phone down, Ji Pei closed her eyes, savoring the rare moment of relaxation.

Suddenly, her WeChat notification chimed. Squinting, Ji Pei reached for her phone and saw a red dot on her contacts list.

Clicking it, she saw a familiar name.

“Long time no see. I’m Xie Zhen.”

Ji Pei tossed the phone back down.

In her freshman year, Ji Pei was a naive new student.

Xie Zhen was her dormmate, their beds right next to each other.

A year older, Xie Zhen was quite attentive, always volunteering to grab food or water for Ji Pei.

Feeling indebted, Ji Pei stuck close to Xie Zhen, and the two were nearly inseparable.

Their four-person dorm had blackout curtains on each bed, Ji Pei’s included.

Someone had once teased that Ye Wenzhu’s curtains looked like a coffin board, scaring her into swapping them for pink ones overnight.

One late night, Ji Pei was playing a game on her tablet. Rubbing her eyes, she glanced at the corner of her bed curtain and nearly threw her tablet in fright.

It was Xie Zhen’s eyes, glinting in the dark.

Gasping, Ji Pei clutched her chest. Xie Zhen, acting as if nothing was wrong, poked her head through the curtain and asked if Ji Pei had any tissues.

After that, Ji Pei replaced her bed curtain.

But Xie Zhen, taking advantage of Ji Pei’s mild temperament, only grew bolder.

Ye Wenzhu saw it all and warned Ji Pei, only to be ostracized by the class.

Xie Zhen, the class monitor, was smooth and well-connected, getting along with counselors and teachers. Many classmates sided with her.

Rumors spread that Ji Pei and Xie Zhen were “that kind” of couple, and that Ji Pei’s scholarships came through Xie Zhen’s help.

Thinking about it, Ji Pei rolled her eyes. She stared at Xie Zhen’s profile picture—a photo Xie Zhen had posted on Moments four years ago.

Xie Zhen was an artist too. Before things soured, they’d often sat together studying human anatomy.

Ji Pei suspected Xie Zhen had redrawn that photo to resemble her, as it looked eerily similar from certain angles.

Closing her eyes, Ji Pei considered blocking Xie Zhen but stopped herself.

She recalled Ye Wenzhu’s words.

At the reunion, Ji Pei could bring her girlfriend and make out passionately in front of Xie Zhen.

But… she still didn’t know what Dongri looked like.

—

After her bath and drying her hair, Ji Pei sat on her bed, lost in thought. She opened the messaging app and sent a message.

Jifeng: [Darling, I really want to know what you look like.]

Dongri replied quickly.

Dongri: [What if I’m hideously ugly? Would you stop loving me?]

Ji Pei hadn’t expected that response. She was dying to know what Dongri looked like, her curiosity itching.

Jifeng: [No way! I love you so much—you’re the most beautiful person in my heart.]

With such a lovely voice, Ji Pei thought, her face couldn’t be bad, right?

Suddenly, a rapid ringtone startled her, nearly making her drop her phone.

The pink call interface showed Dongri’s profile picture. Ji Pei’s heart raced—she realized Dongri was calling her on voice.

Her fingers trembled as she pressed accept, and Dongri’s soft, warm voice came through.

“I’m not very familiar with this app—it’s my first time using it.”

The woman’s voice was slightly husky, like a lover’s whisper in her ear.

Ji Pei’s ears tingled, her body buzzing as if touched by tiny electric currents. She held the phone at a distance, her cheeks flushing.

Dongri’s voice was too captivating.

“Why aren’t you talking?”

The voice carried a hint of confusion, tickling Ji Pei’s ears like a feather.

“I…”

Ji Pei’s throat tightened, and she bit her lip, too shy to speak.

“What? Shy?”

Dongri chuckled, each word hitting Ji Pei’s eardrums.

Ji Pei wanted to cover her ears. She opened her mouth, her voice tinged with a nasal tone.

“I’m not shy… I was just… busy with something.”

She heard Dongri hum and say,

“Why’d you suddenly call? I’ve never seen you take the initiative like this.”

Dongri’s voice softened, almost as if she were whispering in Ji Pei’s ear.

Holding a stuffed toy, Ji Pei said,

“No, I just… I feel a bit flattered.”

Dongri’s voice grew gentler.

“You don’t like phone calls?”

Ji Pei scratched her ear and stood in front of the full-length mirror, noticing her ears and face were red.

“Um, about that…”

Ji Pei hesitated, stammering.

“Can we skip the photos today? I’m a bit tired, and I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She didn’t realize her tone carried a coy, whiny edge, her nasal voice sounding husky—sensual and ambiguous over the phone.

She was unaware of this.

“What happened? Can you tell me?”

Hearing Dongri’s words, Ji Pei finally found an outlet for her pent-up grievances.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Dongri’s voice was soothing.

“Mm, I won’t.”

The gentle “mm” was comforting, and Ji Pei relaxed, calmed by Dongri’s voice.

“In college, there was this female class monitor who harassed me. Today, she messaged in the class group, asking me to go to next month’s reunion.”

Ji Pei cradled her cheeks, sighing in frustration.

“Why won’t she leave me alone?”

“I moved out of the dorm to avoid her, renting a place outside for three years.”

Her voice thick with grievance, Ji Pei hugged her phone, sniffing. “I always saw her as a good friend, but she had those kinds of feelings for me, and…”

Dongri noticed Ji Pei’s words cut off, a faint unease rising.

“What’s wrong?”

Ji Pei got goosebumps, her back chilling as she rubbed her arms and continued.

“I kept losing my underwear. I’d wash them and hang them on the balcony, but they’d disappear for no reason.”

Ji Pei’s nails unconsciously dug into the bedsheet, wrinkling it before smoothing it out.

“My roommate told me Xie Zhen stole them from the balcony.”

Ji Pei’s scalp tingled. When Ye Wenzhu told her, she didn’t believe it, thinking such a creepy thing couldn’t happen between her and Xie Zhen.

But Ye Wenzhu, found Ji Pei’s long-lost underwear under Xie Zhen’s pillow.

Before that, Ji Pei thought the wind had blown them away.

Seeing the crumpled fabric, Ji Pei was thunderstruck, doubting her own judgment for the first time.

Years of buried grievances poured out.

She’d never told anyone about this.

Listening to Dongri’s voice, Ji Pei suddenly felt like she’d found a safe haven, someone to rely on.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m here. What’s her name?”

Ji Pei lay on her bed, turning off the room’s lights and switching on a strawberry-shaped nightlight, basking in its warm yellow glow.

“It’s been a long time. I’ve let it go, but…”

Ji Pei felt she was being dramatic. Despite claiming to have moved on, she wanted to vent to Dongri, maybe even exaggerate a bit.

“I just wanted to tell you. That’s all.”

Hearing Dongri’s soft “mm,” Ji Pei yawned, mumbling sleepily.

“Don’t go hiring some thug to get revenge… that’d land you in jail…”

***

Under the dim desk lamp, half of Jiang Xihan’s face was cloaked in shadow, her high nose bridge marking the line between light and dark.

Listening to the steady, rhythmic breathing from the other end, her lips curved into a faint smile, her eyes softening with unprecedented tenderness.

Reluctantly, Jiang Xihan listened a bit longer before whispering “goodnight.”

She didn’t hang up. Instead, she put on Bluetooth earphones, letting Ji Pei’s soft breathing fill her ears.

Lines of code lit up her screen. Jiang Xihan adjusted her glasses, her gaze turning cold.

A girl’s ID photo appeared on the computer: fox-like eyes, smiling lips, shoulder-length hair.

Very familiar.

Her name was Xie Zhen.

Jiang Xihan’s fingers tapped lightly on the desk.

She hadn’t expected it to be her.