I Fell in Love With My Cool, Aloof, and Alluring Roommate (GL) - Chapter 1

The early spring chill was sharp, the air dry and biting, yet inside U University’s Xinlequn Cafeteria, the lights were ablaze, the aroma of food wafting through the air. On the fourth floor, every table was crowded with students engaged in heated discussions.

Rong Ting’s group arrived late and ended up sitting near the staircase.

At the stairwell, cold drafts mingled with stifling heat, stirring an inexplicable restlessness.

Chen Saiyu nudged her: “Rong Ting, daydreaming?”

“No,” she replied, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was just that a dry heat in her nasal passages made breathing uncomfortable.

Their professor had recently assigned a task to create a simulated textbook based on the SOLO structure. While the others were still arguing fiercely over which poems to include in the poetry unit—having already flipped through five hefty volumes of modern and classical poetry—Wan Sang’s voice stood out, loud and shrill.

“Borges’ poems absolutely must be included. His poetry is excellent. And ‘Ode to the West Wind’—why not include such a classic?”

Rong Ting couldn’t help but detect a hint of client-like arrogance in her tone.

Someone immediately retorted, “The poems in the textbook should be easy to teach. Even teachers struggle with Borges’ work—how can you expect students to understand?”

Wan Sang pressed aggressively, “That depends on the type of teacher, your lesson plan, and the teaching objectives!”

Rong Ting’s voice was slightly nasal, but she tried to keep her tone gentle. “Borges’ work is somewhat obscure, and ‘Ode to the West Wind’ is too long. Besides, this is a professor’s assignment. He probably doesn’t want us choosing poems that have already been overused.”

But Wan Sang shot her an annoyed glance.

Rong Ting fell silent. Wan Sang, now even more irritated, spoke even more bluntly.

Amid the clamor, a few modern poems were settled on. Rong Ting tried to interject twice but couldn’t get a word in, so she eventually stopped trying.

When it came to classical poetry, the arguing grew even more intense. Rong Ting’s nose felt worse, and she had to take several deep breaths just to clear her nasal passages.

After what felt like endless arguing, her voice finally broke through. “Aren’t we still missing a narrative poem?”

The air quieted for a brief moment.

Then Wan Sang’s voice grew even louder. “You all just said ‘Ode to the West Wind’ was too long. Aren’t narrative poems long too? Why is it too long when I suggest it, but suddenly short when you do?”

When people feel challenged and seek revenge, they tend to attack indiscriminately in later discussions. Rong Ting knew Wan Sang’s sarcasm was now directed at her as well.

Rong Ting didn’t respond further, but her breathing grew increasingly labored and heavy.

Eventually, exhausted from arguing, they all grew somewhat apathetic and stopped fighting. They collectively voted on a few poems, agreeing to revisit the issue if problems arose later.

But deep down, they all knew—unless someone wanted to argue again, no one wanted to endure another group discussion.

Group assignments in university were nothing short of group torment.

Rong Ting’s forehead felt warm. Just as she pulled up the hood of her coat, she saw Wan Sang glance at her before linking arms with the others from their dorm and walking away.

Chen Saiyu had initially wanted to wait for her but was nudged along with the group.

Standing alone in the cold wind, Rong Ting watched the three of them walk away. Others streamed out of the cafeteria in pairs or groups, none sparing her a glance.

Earlier, when forming groups for the textbook compilation class, Wan Sang had already agreed to team up with a few others from their class. But she insisted on rallying everyone in the dorm group chat.

“This semester is packed with group activities. Let’s team up as a dorm, shall we? Teaming up with others always brings drama. It’s safer with our own people.”

Two people in the group chat raised their hands. Rong Ting hesitated for a moment before reluctantly “going along with the crowd,” apologizing repeatedly to the others.

However, trusting her roommates too much led to the current situation.

She wasn’t sure when it started, but she became the one being excluded. Wan Sang would pick fights with her over the slightest disagreement. Her quietness was seen as aloofness, and every time she spoke, Wan Sang would accuse her of being nitpicky. Two group assignments in a row ended on bad terms.

It seemed this time would be no different.

Sighing, Rong Ting didn’t feel like returning to the dorm just yet. She walked over to the track, swiped in, and entered.

There were very few people inside. The facial recognition machine was covered in a layer of dust, and only scattered individuals were jogging on the track.

She walked along the outermost lane, put on her headphones, and aimlessly circled the track.

After four laps, her headphones played soothing light music, but her mind grew increasingly noisy and restless.

Suddenly, she felt a heavy impact against her ankle. She let out a muffled groan and crouched down. It wasn’t particularly painful, but the impact left half her leg numb.

A male voice called from the distance, “Hey, could you kick the ball back?”

Kick it back?

Her foot was numb—how was she supposed to kick it?

She was really fed up with these guys who always managed to kick the ball out of bounds.

Rong Ting didn’t feel like responding and stayed still for a moment.

If they realized she wasn’t interested, they’d probably come retrieve the ball themselves, right?

After a while, as expected, there were no more shouts. She was about to stand up.

Suddenly, a hand appeared in front of her—pale, slender fingers with distinct tendons, looking bony and strong.

Rong Ting looked up in surprise. The girl in front of her was wearing a dark green retro-style tank top despite the cold weather. Two thin straps crisscrossed over her narrow waistline, and a tiny red mole, no larger than a grain of rice, flashed briefly above.

Aside from that, she only wore a fitted leather skirt, with a short black jacket draped over her shoulders—a rather breezy outfit for the chilly early spring.

Her hair just reached her shoulders, and her features were cool and sharp, yet she wore a glossy red lipstick, like bold ink splashed onto pale jade.

Both aloof and cool.

She raised a slender eyebrow. “Hey, are you okay?”

Though her tone carried a hint of amusement, her clear, cool voice stood out against the noisy background, giving it a unique texture.

Rong Ting, who had been simmering with frustration, felt as if she’d been jolted by electricity. Without touching the offered hand, she stood up.

The girl didn’t seem to mind. She smiled and withdrew her slender, fair wrist.

Rong Ting hadn’t intended to make a fuss. “I’m fine.”

But her foot was genuinely too numb to walk, leaving her awkwardly standing there, the two of them staring at each other.

Rong Ting noticed the other girl was holding a gray windbreaker in her other hand—a men’s style, by the looks of it. She guessed it probably belonged to her boyfriend, who was playing soccer nearby, and she was just holding onto his jacket.

Sure enough, a male voice called out from the distance, “Xiao Jiu, kick the ball back to us!”

Rong Ting took a moment to process it.

Xiao Jiu? Xiao Jiu?

Quite an affectionate nickname, which only confirmed her suspicion.

Ran Jiu, wearing combat boots, deftly kicked the ball back. Then, without a second thought, she tossed the jacket onto the synthetic grass and paid it no further attention.

Her movements were so quick and effortless that by the time Rong Ting processed it, she suddenly realized the other girl was observing her too.

Her heart skipped a beat.

In life, there always comes a moment when one must face danger alone to unleash hidden strength.

Rong Ting was socially anxious by nature—even when a stranger asked for directions, she’d get so nervous she’d point the wrong way. Now, unable to understand the other person’s intentions, she felt even more uneasy.

Pretending to be calm, she rubbed her leg. “It’s fine, just a bit numb. I’ll be able to walk back after a moment.”

Hearing the girl click her tongue, a cool, brisk aura swept over. Without another word, the girl took hold of Rong Ting’s arm. “Come on, I’ll help you out.”

Rong Ting hadn’t expected someone who looked so slender to have such a strong grip, lifting her effortlessly.

Rong Ting was dressed in layers—a student-style shirt underneath and a wool coat on top. Even through two layers of fabric, she could feel the other girl’s fingers and the shape of her bones. And this girl wore only a leather jacket over her clothes. Rong Ting’s side bag kept bumping against the girl’s waist.

If it had a temperature, it would have felt warm.

Eventually, even Rong Ting couldn’t stand it anymore. She asked the girl to wait a moment, adjusted her bag to a different position, and the two continued walking, keeping a certain distance between them.

Ran Jiu seemed thoughtful, glancing at Rong Ting from time to time, sensing that she often drifted into a daze.

By the time they reached the entrance of the sports field, the numbness in Rong Ting’s foot had long since faded. She withdrew her arm. “Thank you. You can go back to playing. I’ll head back now.”

Ran Jiu was equally composed, casually crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you really okay?”

Rong Ting shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“If you sprained your ankle, you should say so. Go to the clinic and get it checked,” Ran Jiu said. “What if it’s a hairline fracture?”

Rong Ting couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not that bad.”

Besides, if it really were a hairline fracture, she’d probably be in excruciating pain by now.

Unexpectedly, Ran Jiu insisted on walking her out. As they neared the entrance to the dormitory courtyard, Rong Ting was still puzzled. After holding back for a while, she was about to tell her not to bother seeing her off.

But then Ran Jiu hurried toward the fruit shop.

“Hey, wait, what are you doing?” Rong Ting instinctively followed.

Ran Jiu expertly picked out a fruit box from the fridge and pulled out a candied hawthorn stick, handing both to the shop owner to pay.

Coming out with the items, she shoved them into Rong Ting’s hands. “They weren’t watching where they were kicking the ball. These are for you.”

Looking at the treats, Rong Ting felt embarrassed, as if she’d staged the whole incident. She didn’t even know how to refuse and ended up saying something contradictory: “Eating sweets at night can cause cavities.”

A light chuckle came from the other side. Ran Jiu took the candied hawthorn stick from her hand and tucked it into Rong Ting’s hood. “Then save it for tomorrow.”

Rong Ting: “…”

Freed from holding the candied hawthorn, Rong Ting slipped her hands into her coat pockets—much warmer indeed.

Ran Jiu still showed no sign of leaving. Her slender fingers played with her phone, the emerald-green nails tapping against the phone case with a crisp sound. Rong Ting worried for a moment that her nails might snap.

Ran Jiu asked, “Want to exchange phone numbers? You can see how you feel overnight, and then decide?”

Besides, Rong Ting didn’t understand her logic. What could possibly happen from getting hit by a ball?

Rong Ting waved her hand. “No need. You should go back to your boyfriend.”

Ran Jiu paused for a moment, a faint smile curling at the corner of her lips.

It seemed she’d encountered a misunderstanding, but after a moment’s thought, she chose not to explain it.

“Alright.”