My Roommate is a Gloomy, Sensitive Guy Who Cries Over Everything - Chapter 30

Chapter 30: The True Face of Soren

Every artist has their own pseudonym, just like a stage name in the entertainment industry.

Lin Zhiyu pulled out his phone and did a search. Big data immediately pushed the results in front of him, and he couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

Moreover, Soren had established a specialized studio to handle business; it appeared to be a solo operation without being signed to any agency.

In the past, out of curiosity, Lin Zhiyu had registered a Xiaohongshu (Little Red Book) account to record his life. However, because of a dessert post where he replied to comments asking which shop it was, he was flagged for “illegal traffic redirection.” Since then, the account became a place for his daily browsing, and he stopped posting.

If it weren’t for searching for Soren, he would have abruptly remembered that among his few followers, this famous artist was actually there.

It was just that Lin Zhiyu had no interest in seeing who followed him, so it had gone unnoticed all this time.

He’s known me since long ago?

The seeds of suspicion began to spread quietly in his heart, but he didn’t pursue a logical deduction because there was no logic, no evidence, and no clue.

He didn’t know when he had met Soren—unless the Senior was also from that village. But Lin Rangchuan did fit that description.

“You’ve been sticking to those few posters for so long.” Yu Hechang came to the East Gate to find him after class. Lin Zhiyu was making New Year’s event arrangements and decorating the storefront.

It would add 0.2 points to his Comprehensive Quality Expansion score.

Yu Hechang was here to help; he was still short 0.5 points this semester. The school was stingy—no matter how big or small the activity, it was always based on a 0.1 increment.

Don’t be fooled by how lively H-University students seemed; every single one of them was being forced by the system.

“What posters? These are decorative strips.” Lin Zhiyu pulled himself out of his thoughts. “Hurry up. Once we’re done, I have to go to a meeting.”

“What about dinner time?”

Lin Zhiyu announced heartlessly: “There isn’t any!”

Yu Hechang looked speechless but also deeply admired him. After all, Lin Zhiyu had been capable of enduring hardship since childhood.

Of course, in the countryside, with only a widowed mother, one couldn’t survive without enduring hardship—especially since Xue Rong had a very tough personality, high self-esteem, and disliked accepting help from others.

So there was a period when Lin Zhiyu had a very hard time. Yu Hechang had heard his mother talk about it; that kind of hardship was something he definitely couldn’t have endured.

Decorating was manual labor, so Yu Hechang’s mouth got itchy and he started chatting: “How come you haven’t mentioned that ‘Senior’ of yours lately?”

“You guys didn’t actually have a ‘failed-on-sight’ meeting, did you?”

Lin Zhiyu didn’t like that phrasing, but he was indeed angry inside. He had given the Senior the cold shoulder for several days, ignoring him. The other party, seemingly feeling guilty, had sent him money, but Lin Zhiyu hadn’t accepted it.

He felt it was a bit like that kind of transaction—very weird. But he couldn’t tell Yu Hechang about this.

After school, Lin Zhiyu didn’t go back; instead, he secretly went to the villa to find Qin Rui.

Qin Rui wasn’t surprised to see him and expressed understanding of his low mood: “I told you, those gay guys aren’t good people. They just crave your body. As long as you didn’t lose out, it’s fine. Take this chance to cut off contact.”

Lin Zhiyu moved over a bit on the seat: “He’s not… and I don’t actually mind that point. I’m not as resistant as you are.”

Qin Rui: “Oh. You look a lot like someone who’s heartbroken.”

Am I?

Unexpectedly, Lin Zhiyu nodded: “Yes, a little.”

Qin Rui was choked up. He realized Lin Zhiyu’s brain logic wasn’t something a normal person could understand. He expressed his thoughts in a very simple and pure way. That sentence was meant as a sarcastic tease, since he really did look the part.

Normally, a person would argue, but Lin Zhiyu admitted it. His heart was perfectly open, and he didn’t think there was anything wrong with it.

Lin Zhiyu’s complex feelings stemmed from the fact that although he felt offended during that meeting, he didn’t resist too much. Ultimately, it was probably because he truly liked the other person.

The concept of “liking” is very blurred; unlike mathematics, there is no exact answer.

Among the people around him, Jiang Xinran wasn’t someone he could ask. Yu Hechang was an emotional-intelligence idiot. It seemed only Qin Rui—the man who had been pursued by gay men—had the most suitable insights.

Qin Rui tilted his head: “You want my help?”

But he was too straight; he detested gay people.

Lin Zhiyu lowered his head and thought: “I want to see if you can help me find someone.”

“Your Senior.”

Lin Zhiyu nodded.

“We live in a modern society governed by law. Do you think I’m some CEO who can find someone just by saying so?”

Lin Zhiyu scratched his cheek with a sheepish smile: “Well, in my eyes, you’re very powerful.”

“Fine. Give me some info. I should be able to find him just by asking around.” Qin Rui opened the notes app on his phone. “Tall, short, fat, or thin?”

Lin Zhiyu reminisced vaguely, licking his lips: “Tall. Should be thin. He has an eight-pack physique.”

Qin Rui’s mouth twitched: “How do you know? You saw it?”

“He has a self-portrait.” How could he tell the truth?

Qin Rui looked down and added “narcissistic” to the personality row. Lin Zhiyu saw it: “…”

“Major.”

“Law.”

Qin Rui didn’t expect that. “Then everything he does is just swindling and kidnapping.”

“No it’s not,” Lin Zhiyu instinctively defended him. “I did it voluntarily. Don’t talk nonsense.”

“Why are you siding with the outsider?” Qin Rui couldn’t understand and couldn’t help but give him a light knock on the head.

Lin Zhiyu stretched his arms out on his thighs without explaining, just looking at him. Qin Rui didn’t press further.

“What about his social circle?”

“He knows Brother Lin. The shop manager knows him too. Not sure about Lou Chen.”

This made Qin Rui frown slightly: “The manager knows him too?”

Lin Zhiyu seemed to have caught a loophole as well, following the logic and peeling back the layers: “Yeah. He said the studio upstairs is also his. Maybe you’ve seen him?”

“No,” Qin Rui said with certainty. “I’ve never seen anyone go up there.”

…

That day, Lin Zhiyu only went back after eating dinner. He had told Lin Rangchuan in advance. The room door was tightly shut. After Lin Zhiyu finished showering, he went to the kitchen to check on the leftovers.

Despite what he’d said, Lin Rangchuan had still cooked enough rice for two.

Lin Rangchuan’s eating habits weren’t great, and he was a bit of a picky eater. In most cases, it was Lin Zhiyu who finished the food. After all, they had been eating at the same table for so long; Lin Zhiyu had some understanding of him.

Although he had heard from the manager that Lin Rangchuan could also paint, hearing Qin Rui mention that studio again made it impossible for Lin Zhiyu not to overthink. Yet, he felt it was too absurd and refused to admit the answer in his heart.

Lin Zhiyu wiped the sweat from his forehead. He left the kitchen and saw Lin Rangchuan coming out of his room, preparing to shower.

The two made eye contact for a moment, and Lin Rangchuan was the first to look away.

Lin Zhiyu felt strangely nervous. It seemed he had never really looked at Lin Rangchuan properly or tried to understand this roommate. He only knew the guy was elusive, didn’t act like a typical college student, and was often away from home for several days.

He followed him, wanting to start a conversation, but as he got closer, he saw Lin Rangchuan taking his (Zhiyu’s) clothes out of the laundry basket. Lin Rangchuan tilted his head to look at him: “What’s wrong?”

Lin Zhiyu hesitated: “Nothing. You shower first.”

With that, he turned and ran away.

Lin Rangchuan’s eyes followed his zigzagging silhouette until he disappeared, and then he let out a low, pleasant chuckle.

After laughing, his face turned cold again, and he rubbed the clothes against his cheek.

…

After class the next day, Lin Zhiyu went to a meeting. He was absent-mindedly checking his phone messages; the Senior sent him messages almost every day.

Lin Zhiyu ignored them. Until Qin Rui found the person for him, it was better to keep his distance.

It wasn’t until after the meeting ended, when he was starving and dizzy, that he saw the Senior ask if he wasn’t going to renew the “contract” next month.

Lin Zhiyu sent back “Yes” without thinking.

[Senior]: We need to meet and talk.

Lin Zhiyu recalled the fear of being licked, feeling as if that wet, sticky sensation was still on his Adam’s apple.

[Little Fish]: No.

[Senior]: Why?

[Little Fish]: You’re asking me why?

[Senior]: Is the painting not good?

Speaking of this, Lin Zhiyu’s mood softened a bit.

[Little Fish]: It’s beautiful. Thank you for the gift. How long did you paint it?

[Senior]: One or two months.

[Senior]: For many parts, I needed to see you to be able to paint them.

Lin Zhiyu still believed him. After all, that painting was truly beautiful. His artistic accomplishment wasn’t high, so he couldn’t say anything particularly sophisticated.

In art, if a normal person thinks it’s beautiful, then it must be beautiful.

It was no wonder Soren’s prices were so high and so many people rushed to commission custom work.

[Little Fish]: You shouldn’t need me for your next painting, right?

[Senior]: There isn’t a single moment I don’t need you.

How is this different from a confession? The senior was always saying things like this, causing Lin Zhiyu to misunderstand.

He was at an age where he hadn’t yet “awakened,” but had been forced to realize his own differences by Ning Xingzhou, leaving him feeling lost and confused.

By nature, Lin Zhiyu wasn’t good at handling romantic matters between men and women. When he was a child, he couldn’t even understand romance movies; he only knew that characters would fight intensely one moment and then break up calmly the next, with endless ups and downs.

And now, he was being inundated with this massive amount of so-called “love” officially stamped by the Senior.

[Senior]: I really like you.

Lin Zhiyu wasn’t moved. Instead, he replied:

[Little Fish]: I don’t think you can do this. You need to look for other inspiration. Look at the uncanny workmanship of nature; that might be better than getting inspiration from a person.

[Senior]: It’s not inspiration. It’s that I like you.

[Senior]: I’ve liked you for a long time.

…

With the New Year’s Gala approaching, Lin Zhiyu had no time to think about anything else. He joined the chorus, and besides eating and attending class, all his time was spent in emergency rehearsals.

“Lin Zhiyu, open your throat here. Your voice is too prominent.”

“Lin Zhiyu, your voice is too loud. You need to blend into the group! Be loud where you should be loud, but right now you need to harmonize.”

“Lin Zhiyu, you’re a beat slow. The rhythm, watch the rhythm.”

A professional teacher had been hired specifically to teach the chorus. After all, many leaders would be attending the gala, and the school couldn’t lose face.

Lin Zhiyu was called out multiple times, and other students became familiar with his name—though he had already become famous during the sports meet a few days ago, so it was hard not to know him.

During the break, a few people sat around him: “What are you doing? You need to rehearse seriously. We’re going on stage for New Year’s tomorrow.”

Lin Zhiyu promised them: “Don’t worry, I’ll work hard.”

“It’s fine, just keep your voice down. The people below won’t be able to tell anyway.”

As they chatted, they started teaching Lin Zhiyu how to slack off during the chorus. Lin Zhiyu felt quite embarrassed.

“Sigh, we didn’t get to invite Senior Lin this time. The photos he took at the sports meet were so beautiful; they even made it onto the school forum.”

Lin Zhiyu paused. He didn’t really want to participate in this topic, but his ears were disobedient, constantly picking up information about that person.

He was never one for internal conflict, so he turned around and joined the conversation.

“What kind of person is Senior Lin?”

The entry point for the topic was very ordinary and conceptually vague.

“Super handsome guy.” “Good at photography.” “Good at painting.” “Great athletic nerves.” “Cold god-level guy.” “Good grades—the kind that gets scholarships. But because his team collaboration skills are a bit poor, he doesn’t have competition honors. Otherwise, he could have aimed for a National Scholarship.”

Lin Zhiyu was surprised that Lin Rangchuan was an excellent but somewhat eccentric character. Except for Lou Chen, he almost never made friends. Because his professional skills were so strong, many people didn’t have any objections to this—some were even very tolerant.

Rumors grow stronger as they spread, like right now.

“He’s so powerful; I heard he was an autistic boy when he was a kid.”

“Don’t they say all geniuses have some kind of illness?”

“Whoa, didn’t he transfer here from the main campus? Why did he transfer?”

“Who knows? Maybe he had a falling out with his family. He’s a local from A-City. He got into the main campus of H-University right after graduation. Who would move here on purpose? This place is the middle of nowhere; once the power goes out, the whole village is dark.”

As they spoke, they began complaining about school issues, and Lin Rangchuan was temporarily set aside.

Lin Zhiyu didn’t participate in the school talk. He opened his phone and clicked on the Senior’s WeChat. It had been a day since the last confession.

He hadn’t replied, and neither had the other party.

It was as if the system had crashed right there, waiting for the other person’s power-on ceremony.

…

After the chorus ended, Yu Hechang’s classes weren’t finished yet. Lin Zhiyu went to the cafeteria alone and received a call from Qin Rui on the way.

“Are you sure this person exists? To be honest, I’ve checked. Someone who can paint and studies law—the only one who matches seems to be Lin Rangchuan. But are you sure it’s him?”

Lin Zhiyu denied it: “It’s not him. Why would it be him? I live with him; why would he contact me online?”

Qin Rui was dazed by the string of denials and keenly sensed his mood wasn’t right: “What’s wrong? In a bad mood?”

Lin Zhiyu sighed, kicking a small stone on the road: “No.”

“I’ll look for another round.”

“Forget it, don’t look anymore. I’ve broken up with him.” Lin Zhiyu didn’t even have the strength to go eat. He sat on a bench, propping his chin in distress.

Qin Rui obviously hadn’t reacted yet: “Breaking up is good. He didn’t seem like a good person anyway.”

“He brought it up.”

Lin Zhiyu felt that after saying those things, the Senior must have been mentally prepared to be rejected. However, such consequences would mean their relationship could never return to what it was. They were both adults.

“Fine, that’s even better. He probably regretted bothering you.”

“Actually, I regret it a little too.” In his heart, Lin Zhiyu didn’t really want to break it off, but in the current situation… it was uncontrollable.

Qin Rui was silent for a while: “Could you not slap me in the face like that?”

Lin Zhiyu gave an obedient “Oh.”

“A break is a break. He’s just a stranger. Isn’t it common for internet friends to lose touch? You only met once; you aren’t even familiar.” Qin Rui rarely mentioned his own affairs. “I’ve known my childhood friend for decades, and we still cut ties just like that.”

Lin Zhiyu gave a very soft “Mm.” His heart was bleeding. Why? I’ve already invested feelings. How can he just cut it off?

He didn’t even know who the person was. What was he supposed to do?

Qin Rui: “As long as he didn’t do anything to you, it’s all fine.”

Lin Zhiyu’s mouth twitched. With great psychological fortitude, he said, “I wish he would. Does he dare?”

Qin Rui didn’t hear him.

“Want to come to my villa tonight?”

“Can’t. I have rehearsal.”

“Fine. I’ll go watch you then. Perform well.”

…

Rehearsing until past eight, the growling of Lin Zhiyu’s stomach had already drowned out the sound of the chorus.

It caused the other students to burst into laughter.

The teacher couldn’t help but laugh too: “Haven’t you eaten?”

Lin Zhiyu was forced to take a break. He sent a message to Yu Hechang, asking if it was convenient for him to bring some food over.

[Smooth Pooping]: I’m at the milk tea shop so no… wait.

A few minutes later.

[Smooth Pooping]: I can. I’ll bring you some.

[Little Fish]: I haven’t even ordered yet.

[Smooth Pooping]: Don’t worry, it’s all stuff you like.

They were rehearsing in a lecture hall. To prevent the smell from drifting, Lin Zhiyu sat in the last row, waiting for Yu Hechang.

It was a super beautifully packaged boxed meal, and it was all kept warm. In this weather, that was very considerate.

“God, how much did this cost?” Lin Zhiyu sighed as he unwrapped it.

Yu Hechang smiled without speaking. It was only after the first bite that Lin Zhiyu knew. Not only was this food he liked, but these were familiar flavors—it was made by Lin Rangchuan.

“Is he at the milk tea shop?”

Yu Hechang nodded: “He’s subbing. Brother Qin is out, Sister Xinran is on a date, and the manager’s tenosynovitis hasn’t gotten better. Since you had to rehearse, Senior Lin went. I’m also there to help.”

“What a chaotic day…” Lin Zhiyu didn’t think much further.

Yu Hechang happened to receive a milk tea order from the chorus during their break—dozens of cups—so he dashed back.

In the chorus, there was a student from the Publicity Department responsible for the posters. He sat beside Lin Zhiyu, sighing.

“What should we do for the end-of-year posters?”

The poster promotion for the end of a semester would be displayed on the school forum and was much stricter than usual.

Lin Zhiyu had no artistic bones in his body; he couldn’t help. But suddenly, some dark shadows flashed through his mind.

Coincidentally, the person beside him said: “If only we could get Soren to help us paint.”

Lin Zhiyu suddenly turned his head to look at him, seemingly expectant of what he would say next.

“You aren’t in charge of our section, so you don’t know that the posters for the past few months were actually painted by Soren for us. I don’t know what happened this time; we can’t get in touch with him. Tsk tsk tsk…”

“Ahhh, I really want to beg him for help… It’s really hard to paint, and we can’t reach the standard. H-University’s Fine Arts school isn’t here. It’s better to beg Soren than to beg others.”

Lin Zhiyu had a bad suspicion in his heart. He wouldn’t actually be ‘shutting down’ (autistic), would he?

He was worried. He took out his phone and sent a message in the chat box. Since their last conversation was that confession, this time he added an emoji.

No reply.

Lin Zhiyu began to worry in earnest. It was likely that because the Senior used to be so clingy, he now felt an unaccustomed sense of being detached.

Lin Zhiyu asked directly: “How do you guys contact Soren? Do you find him directly on Weibo?”

“Huh? Isn’t he from our school? Or maybe find Lou Chen. Lou Chen knows him.”

“I see.”

“You don’t need to worry about the posters anyway. Want to help? That’s fine too. Contact Lou Chen and see if you can get in touch with Soren.”

Actually, from this sentence, it was clear that the other person might not have ever seen Soren’s true face.

Lin Zhiyu made a plan in his heart: “I’ll try.”