After Sleeping with My Childhood Friend/Arch-Nemesis - Chapter 3

A breeze picked up.

The hair tied casually to one side of her shoulder flicked slightly, and the hem of her white cake skirt swayed. In the foreign night, on the deserted street, Chen Jinshan, who had been lagging behind, stopped unconsciously, his eyes staring straight ahead, lost in thought. He blinked slowly and gently, his expression dazed for a moment, as if he had fallen into an ethereal dream.

Moments later, he picked up his pace without a word. He was tall with a long stride, and he caught up with the girl ahead with ease.

Zhou Xiaqing glanced sideways at the person drifting over in such a leisurely manner, opened her phone, and spoke in a flat tone without any ups and downs: “I’m transferring the money to you now.”

After the transfer, she held out her hand, gesturing with dead-eyed apathy for him to take the bag and give her the cigarettes. Chen Jinshan didn’t move, but his eyes narrowed as he asked: “Zhou Xiaqing, when did you learn to smoke?”

“So what?” Zhou Xiaqing replied indifferently, her entire being radiating the feeling of a living person who was slightly dead inside. “Are you going to tell on me to my mom?”

“I’ll consider it,” Chen Jinshan replied, nodding along.

Whether he was actually going to tell or just bluffing, Zhou Xiaqing saw he wasn’t going to give her anything anytime soon, so she reached out, snatched the bag from his hand, and fished out the small blue box, stuffing it into her pocket.

She handed the rest of the bag back to him. Zhou Xiaqing couldn’t even be bothered to say “goodbye” and walked quickly back to the hotel, entering the lobby’s smoking room.

Half a minute later.

Zhou Xiaqing emerged, sipping her banana milkshake, momentarily speechless. In the chat box with Chen Jinshan on her screen, she had just sent a photo of the small blue box along with a universal question mark. She had finally worked up the nerve to smoke to relieve the pressure, only to discover that the pretty-colored cigarette box was actually condoms. This was an experience she would never have again.

Chen Jinshan, playing the “innocent” card, replied: [I called your name several times; you’re the one who ignored me.]

Zhou Xiaqing typed expressionlessly: [Which hotel are you at?]

Chen Jinshan: [The same one as you.]

The coincidence was practically lawless. Zhou Xiaqing exited the smoking room and sat on a chair in the lobby: [Are you back? I’m waiting for you in the lobby.]

She stared at the “other party is typing” status at the top of the chat box. After a long while, she received his slow reply: [Unlucky, I’ve already reached my room.]

Then came an image: [Also, you dropped your room card.]

Checking her wallet quickly, Zhou Xiaqing saw the room number he had just sent and realized this was his intentional retaliation. It didn’t matter; she wasn’t in the mood to argue with him now.

She took the elevator to Chen Jinshan’s room and sent him a message: [Open the door.]

There was some rustling in the room, and Chen Jinshan opened the door. He had already taken off his hat and jacket; only then did Zhou Xiaqing notice his hair was shorter than it had been during summer break, and his slightly loose, pure white T-shirt made him look very clean and refreshed.

They acted like secret agents meeting in the shadows, exchanging items in a weird, silent atmosphere. It wasn’t until Zhou Xiaqing turned to leave that Chen Jinshan said inexplicably: “This box is something I brought for a friend. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

He was probably worried she would say something messy to his parents. He really thinks too much; she couldn’t be bothered to interfere in anything concerning him.

“Oh.” She was perfunctory, turned around, and walked away.

The front desk clerk caught another glimpse of the tall, thin girl. She was wearing a grey off-shoulder sweatshirt and a white skirt, her face unnaturally pale, her lifeless eyes filled with exhaustion. It was the third time she had entered the smoking room that day. She emerged again after just a short while, her retreating back looking utterly defeated.

Zhou Xiaqing returned to her room and expressionlessly threw the cigarette box into the trash.

It seemed that, just as Xu Ling said, smoking was split into being “cut out for it” or not. Even after swapping for a more accessible cigarette, she hadn’t relieved even a fraction of her anxiety from the abyss; instead, she’d received a moderate blow. Mechanically washing up, bathing, taking her medicine, and then lying on the bed she still couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning. It was all the same old symptoms.

She suddenly felt like a set of “Jenga” blocks. Someone kept digging into her flesh, piling it on top, accumulating piece by piece. The hollowed-out “it” was teetering, as if it would topple over at the next moment. Beyond redemption.

She opened her eyes and turned on her phone. It was late, so no one had spoken in the dormitory group chat for a while, but the chat history was already at “99+.” She flipped through it quickly; the content was mostly their different views on friends with benefits.

Her gaze settled on the three lines of text Xu Ling had written: “Having needs is normal, having high pressure is normal. It’s also quite normal for them to sleep together to blow off steam; they didn’t hurt anyone. It can only be said that everyone makes different choices.” Zhou Xiaqing lost herself in thought for a long time without realizing it.

Her brain started turning like a rebooted computer. Her fingers swiped up and down the list. Driven by some ghost, she clicked into Chen Jinshan’s homepage.

His nickname was “Cream God of War” what a strange name. As strange as he was.

She clicked into his Moments. She didn’t pay much attention to other people’s lives, so she had simply turned off the option to enter the Moments feed. She barely posted herself; the last post was half a year ago. Back then, she had taken a picture of cream bread and edited a little “like” emoji onto the image.

Compared to her barren Moments feed, Chen Jinshan’s was a mixed bag, his life truly colorful. He posted when he was scolded by his coach the day before yesterday, posted when he got a back seat in a cultural class yesterday, posted when he ate pickled fish in the cafeteria today, and was bound to post twice when he saw a stray dog sprawled out sunbathing on the campus grass tomorrow.

He was a total chatterbox.

It was also through his latest update that she learned the swim team had gone abroad for a friendly match, and he had commendably won a silver medal. Upon returning, because he was transferring planes here, he decided to play for two days during the holiday. In the photo, he was standing in the back row, wearing the same white training uniform as his teammates, his posture tall and straight. When he laughed, he showed a row of white teeth—spirited, and his smile was extremely infectious.

…She seemed to understand a little why he was so popular.

Returning to their chat box, she typed three words swiftly, her finger resting on the “send” button, ready to press it at any moment.

Just like in middle school. She thought.

She would take the first step. If he rejected her, she would break away decisively. Anyway, they were already in a relationship where they would pretend not to know each other if they met.

At 1:45 AM local time, Chen Jinshan, who had just lost three games in a row and was half-heartedly playing a game, received a message.

Bread King: [Are you asleep?]

Zhou Xiaqing stared fixedly at the chat box. The light from the phone screen reflected in her eyes, seemingly turning into a spark of vitality.

After waiting for a long while, the reply came: [Is something wrong with your body?]

The sarcasm was fully loaded.

Zhou Xiaqing pushed ahead: [I want to see your medal.]

Chen Jinshan was being cheeky: [Beg me.]

Zhou Xiaqing: [Let me see it.]

Chen Jinshan: [Beg a little.]

Zhou Xiaqing: [Look.]

Chen Jinshan: [Beg.]

Zhou Xiaqing: [Look.]

Chen Jinshan: […Fine.]

Zhou Xiaqing: [Now.]

Chen Jinshan: [?]

Zhou Xiaqing: [Right now.]

Chen Jinshan repeated his opening gambit: [Is something wrong with your body?]

Zhou Xiaqing: [Right.] Zhou Xiaqing: [Now.]

They were both adults; she knew he understood what she meant. Even though they had been pretending to be strangers for a long time, she knew him inside and out: he was physically “clean,” had a blank slate in terms of relationships, was healthy, and they shared a history but no current obligations. For her at this moment, he was an excellent choice.

There was no reply for a long time. Zhou Xiaqing swiped down stubbornly, but there was still no new message.

…Rejected.

Her heart, which had been suspended in mid-air, plummeted to the bottom. She turned off the screen and placed the phone on her bedside table. Just as Chen Jinshan had asked, at this very moment, she was uncomfortable everywhere suffering, painful, and uneasy.

Someone had dug another block from the middle and stacked it on top. The tower of Jenga blocks was teetering, about to collapse.

The phone rang again.

Zhou Xiaqing opened her eyes and clicked on the new message:

[“Open the door.”]

Her lifeless eyes lit up instantly. She got up and opened the door. Chen Jinshan stood outside, lowering his head to meet her gaze.

His voice was hoarse and low, as if mixed with sand:

“Zhou Xiaqing, I’ll say this first, I didn’t bring the medal.”