Xie Mingjun came looking for Dong Yin again, even though they’d already snuck a meeting just yesterday.
She was in a black camisole dress with a small V-neck that showed off the deep line of her collarbones. Pushing open the half-closed door, she walked straight into the narrow six-person dorm room.
She moved like she owned the place, pulling out a chair, shifting until she found a comfortable position, then crossing her long legs. Her fingers closed around the mouse on the desk, the pads of her fingertips slowly rolling the scroll wheel.
The paper on the screen was still unfinished. Three thousand words left to go.
Dong Yin had been picking out clothes for the day. When she saw someone come in, she hurriedly shut the wardrobe. In the mirror on the door, she caught a glimpse of herself.
A pink tracksuit and a pair of pink slippers. Compared to Xie Mingjun, she looked rough, sloppy, nothing like a girl at all.
“Why did you come over?” Dong Yin asked quietly.
Xie Mingjun was looking at her screen and didn’t respond.
In the bottom right corner of the monitor, a little window was looping a workout video. Dong Yin had just followed along with the trainer, bending her body into impossible angles. Now a fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead, and a damp lock of hair at her temple curled in a messy wave.
Dong Yin went to wash her face. When she came back, she rolled up the yoga mat and stuffed it into the closet. She poured a glass of water and set it on the desk. Xie Mingjun didn’t touch it. Instead, she took out a lighter.
Dong Yin didn’t dare stop her. She could only remind her in a small voice, “We’re not allowed to smoke in the dorm.”
Xie Mingjun slanted her a look.
“They don’t allow blowjobs in the dorm either.”
Dong Yin pressed her lips together and didn’t dare say anything.
The air turned painfully awkward. Dong Yin stood there, fingers tight around the cup, not daring to move. The only thing on the desk was the inkstone she’d bought for practicing calligraphy. She picked it up and quietly set it in front of her as an ashtray.
But Xie Mingjun never lit a cigarette.
“Um…” Dong Yin made a small sound, then asked softly, “Did you come for something?”
“Can’t I come over just to see you if there’s nothing?” Xie Mingjun replied.
A moment later, she added, “Didn’t you like Zou Yuxi? Why are you suddenly working this hard to seduce me?”
The question came out of nowhere.
Dong Yin’s lips trembled. Her heart swelled up like an overinflated balloon—then burst just as fast.
Her fingers pinched the rung of the ladder up to the bunk, and she stammered, “I don’t like him. I… I like you.”
“Is that really true?” Xie Mingjun asked.
Her breath carried the bitter smell of tobacco, with a faint coolness of mint.
Dong Yin made a tiny sound of assent.
Her voice was so small that saying it out loud seemed to drain her strength.
She kept her head down, not daring to look at Xie Mingjun. Her shoulders shook.
It wasn’t shyness.
She was lying.
Fifteen days ago, the person Dong Yin liked wasn’t her at all. It was her ex-boyfriend, Zou Yuxi.
Xie Mingjun and Zou Yuxi were a famous couple on campus. They often shot little videos and posted them online. Their follower count was huge.
Their relationship had been good. On campus, they drew a lot of attention; everyone watched them.
Dong Yin was painfully ordinary—the type of honest, uninteresting person no one noticed. She wore cheap T-shirts and leggings, her hair always pulled back in a plain ponytail. She didn’t bother with styles; her bangs were all combed straight back, leaving her forehead bare and plain.
She was introverted, blending into the background wherever she went. If she drew attention at all, it was because others were whispering, criticizing her.
Zou Yuxi, on the other hand, was bright and outgoing, a sunny, handsome boy. He talked to Dong Yin with easy warmth, like a cool summer breeze or winter sunlight—gentle, always making her feel warm.
Whenever she was tucked away in a corner, Zou Yuxi always seemed to spot her. He would lower his voice to chat with her, bring her along to meet other people. She thought she’d finally made friends, that the girl everyone forgot had finally been seen.
She liked that sort of gentleness. She liked Zou Yuxi. She also really, really liked Zou Yuxi’s friends.
Then, a few days ago, they decided to hold an early graduation party, worried that once everyone scattered after graduation, they’d never all be together again.
Dong Yin was invited along. She drank one glass, then two, then three and four, drunk enough to slump over the table. Even drunk, Dong Yin tried hard to listen, focusing intently on their conversation.
Everyone started teasing Zou Yuxi, asking what was going on between him and Dong Yin.
Zou Yuxi answered in a cocky, mocking tone, “Dong Yin? She’s not pretty, she’s broke, why would I ever go for her? Just being friends with us is a downgrade, haha—she just runs errands for us, my little simp. Don’t take it so seriously…”
The others burst out laughing.
“Don’t say that, she is pretty diligent. Always comes when we call, sometimes even volunteers to help. It’s just… taking her out with us is kind of embarrassing.”
“Yeah, Zou Yuxi’s super loyal. He’s still hung up on Xie Mingjun.”
Then they all started egging Zou Yuxi and Xie Mingjun to get back together. Only then did Dong Yin realize this graduation party was fake. The supposed reluctance to part was fake. The real goal was to set them up to reconcile—and use her as a joke.
Zou Yuxi teased Xie Mingjun, asking if she was jealous, throwing out flirty banter.
Xie Mingjun sat there and lit a cigarette. She didn’t smoke it. She just held it between her fingers until the ash built up, then gave her hand the slightest flick.
The ash fell onto the back of Zou Yuxi’s hand.
A lot of people laughed, saying that jealous Xie Mingjun was terrifying, that if they kept pushing her, she’d probably press the burning tip right into Zou Yuxi’s face.
Their mocking gazes all shifted to Dong Yin, like they were watching a lapdog trip and fall. They had known all along that Zou Yuxi was toying with this simp, and they loved watching Dong Yin come and go at his beck and call like a dog.
Back then, Xie Mingjun had been sitting on the sofa, looking just like she did now. Her eyes drifted to where Dong Yin lay slumped over the table. From that lofty height, even a single glance felt like contempt.
One moment, Dong Yin had been sad, thinking how graduation meant leaving campus, never seeing the person she liked again. She cried quietly over it, stifling sobs so no one would see, wiping her tears in secret.
She never expected they’d been laughing at her the entire time.
That flash of humiliation dragged all her long-suppressed feelings to shore—disappointment, disgust, and a trampled sense of self-respect.
Her stomach churned violently.
Dong Yin gagged and threw up.
With the alcohol burning in her veins, a thought rose up: she wanted revenge. She wanted all of them to suffer.
Afterward, she struggled to her feet, trying to leave, but her hand brushed against the leg of Xie Mingjun’s pants.
Xie Mingjun opened her eyes and looked at her. There was a lazy edge to her brows and gaze, like she’d just woken up, a slight frown puckering her forehead. A lighter was pinched loosely in her hand.
Her fingertip stroked the textured metal, slowly running from one end to the other. No flame, but it was like she carried a kind of searing spark on her body.
Then, in the dim night, the silver lighter flared to life.
After everyone else had passed out, after Zou Yuxi was fast asleep, while she herself was still drunk, Dong Yin got up and went to seduce the one person still fully awake—Xie Mingjun.
And Xie Mingjun was surprisingly easy to hook.
Dong Yin’s fingers crept over and brushed against Xie Mingjun’s thigh. Xie lowered her eyes to look at her, and Dong Yin’s hand slid up to rest on her knee.
“Xie Mingjun,” she asked, “do you want to let loose one last time before graduation?”
Then Xie Mingjun bent down and pressed her lips to hers.
