When Winter Falls in Love - Chapter 5

As soon as Dong Yin joined the gaming squad, she heard two female voices bickering back and forth. One would say “Hmph,” and the other would retort with a scoff, though it was unclear what had started their quarrel.

The argument only subsided after Dong Yin entered the game.

During gameplay, Dong Yin instinctively dashed out to grab outfits as usual, this time quickly snagging a pink ensemble before returning.

Her teammates froze mid-looting when they saw her new look:

A burly character in a pink camisole and mini skirt.

Even without text chat, the screen might as well have been flooded with question marks.

Xie Mingjun: [Didn’t I gift you several pink skins?]

The pink-clad brute seemed to sense everyone’s stares and took a step back. Then with practiced precision – a shot from one window, another from the next, then scaling the platform for a final barrage – she turned all the carefully hidden enemies below into conspicuously pathetic loot boxes.

When Dong Yin descended with her rifle, excited screams of “Ahhh!” erupted through the headset from one of Xie Mingjun’s friends.

“So what if the pro has a pink obsession!”

“It’s called contrast-cuteness! Where’d you dig up this gem?”

A calmer voice interjected, “Quiet down, I can’t hear footsteps.”

Earlier, Xie Mingjun had explained these were two friends who’d started arguing during their duo matches, neither willing to admit their lack of skill. She’d asked Dong Yin to casually carry them.

And carry them Dong Yin did – securing top-tier gear to cocoon Xie Mingjun’s friends in layers of protection, distributing meds and weapons until their bickering faded into resigned silence.

The truth was undeniable: neither was at fault. They were equally terrible.

Heh.

Thirty minutes later, victory chicken dinner secured.

One friend went by “Crimson Candle Warms North Wind,” the other “Lu Hanqiu.” Crimson proved particularly chatty.

Crimson: [Dinner later? Lu’s treating to thank your pro for showing us what fun gameplay looks like.]

Xie: [Maybe]

Crimson: [Which classroom are you in?]

Xie: [A3003]

Crimson: [Where’s the pro from? We’re same server – should all grab food!]

Crimson: [Why’s the pro so quiet? Sent a WeChat request hoping they’ll carry us again. You have their contact right?]

Xie: [They don’t give it out]

Lu: [Probably offline.]

Crimson: [So pro, so aloof…]

Minutes later, light dimmed at the corner seat in A3003’s back row as Xie Mingjun looked up to find Dong Yin clutching her backpack straps.

“What a coincidence, Xie Mingjun,” Dong Yin murmured. “You take this class too?”

Xie’s puzzled gaze held unspoken questions about Dong Yin’s sudden appearance, but she simply returned to her phone without inquiry.

Such things didn’t warrant deep thought – university courses were open, and many audited outside their majors.

As their eyes met, a pen rolled off Xie’s desk, wobbling to rest at Dong Yin’s feet.

Dong Yin bent down to pick it up and placed it on Xie Mingjun’s desk. “Xie Mingjun, your pen.”

As the class bell rang, Xie Mingjun retracted her legs, and Dong Yin walked past her to the other side, taking the empty seat beside her.

Dong Yin moved carefully, making sure not to brush against her at all.

University classrooms were often quiet between classes, with little conversation. Dong Yin silently placed her backpack in the desk drawer.

Xie Mingjun was equally quiet, absorbed in her phone.

Dong Yin whispered, “I skipped class to come here.”

She wasn’t one to skip classes, even if she had already mastered all the material, she would stay until the very last second. This was the first time she had ever done it, and her heart had been pounding wildly the whole way here.

The rapid heartbeat continued, loud enough for Xie Mingjun to hear. Finally, Xie Mingjun glanced at her. Dong Yin pressed her lips together in a small smile and said, “I ran into you earlier when I was buying lemonade, and now I’m in class with you. We must be really fated.”

Xie Mingjun didn’t respond, slipping a Bluetooth earbud into her left ear. The lecture began, and the professor started speaking. Xie Mingjun studied finance, a completely different field from Dong Yin.

Dong Yin pulled out a notebook and pen from her bag, jotting down everything the professor said. She kept at it for most of the class.

Several times, Xie Mingjun’s gaze drifted over. Dong Yin’s writing sped up, but her notes remained neat and orderly.

After copying the last word from the blackboard, Dong Yin rubbed her sore wrist, massaging the indentation on her index finger. She glanced sideways at Xie Mingjun, then gently brushed her leg against Xie Mingjun’s under the desk.

Xie Mingjun was wearing jeans today, making her legs look long and straight. Dong Yin didn’t dare press too hard, self-conscious about the cheap fabric of her own pants. She nudged once no response. A second time. On the third attempt, Xie Mingjun grabbed her leg.

Her palm pressed firmly against Dong Yin’s thigh, squeezing once before slowly pushing her away. Dong Yin leaned in again, but Xie Mingjun held her leg in place. The midday heat was stifling, and Xie Mingjun’s hand felt scorching, as if burning through the thin, cheap fabric to touch Dong Yin’s skin.

“Stop rubbing against me,” she said.

Dong Yin hummed in acknowledgment and looked down at her phone. A notification from WeChat popped up: [“Red Candle, Warm North Wind” has invited you to join the group chat “Pink Squad.”]

With a tap, she was in the group.

What was happening? How had she suddenly ended up in Xie Mingjun’s friend group? She felt bewildered, her nerves flaring up, the heat on her leg intensifying.

Xie Mingjun’s hand didn’t withdraw, as if determined to block Dong Yin from touching her again, maintaining the barrier between them.

Remembering why she had nudged Xie Mingjun in the first place, Dong Yin slid her notes over and whispered, “The professor’s lecture seemed important. I copied it all down. Do you want me to tear this page out for you?”

Xie Mingjun replied, “Didn’t you understand what I told you last time?”

Dong Yin pulled the notes back, not wanting to disturb her further, though she couldn’t resist stealing another glance at Xie Mingjun.

Xie Mingjun was focused on her phone, scrolling one-handed.

Dong Yin tried to peek at the screen, but it was too small, and she quickly looked away, afraid of being caught. All she could tell was that Xie Mingjun was chatting on WeChat, not playing games.

Dong Yin picked up her own phone.

Before coming here, Xie Mingjun’s friend had added her on WeChat, saying it would be easier to coordinate for games later. They had even sent her a greeting.

In the past, Dong Yin always played games alone, occasionally dragged in by Zou Yuxi and his friends to make up numbers. Every time, she’d encounter people who teased her, spoke harshly, and loved to shift blame, saying she couldn’t play. Dong Yin wanted to speak up but couldn’t, always bottling it up, biting her lip as she stared at the phone screen. Back then, her mouth felt like it was sealed shut, terrified that speaking would upset others, overly sensitive and cautious.

Simple things were difficult for her. Dong Yin could entertain herself by fiddling with her fingers all day, yet social interactions left her anxious for ages.

When “Red Candle Warms the North Wind” invited her, aside from nervousness, she felt a flicker of joy. The group only had four people, likely created just for gaming.

The others were already chatting, but Dong Yin couldn’t keep up or figure out how to join, so she just watched.

Red Candle Warms the North Wind: [@Thanks @Lu Hanqiu, welcome her, I got the pro player in here.]
Lu Hanqiu: [Welcome.]
Xie Mingjun: [Welcome]
Dong Yin: [xie xie]

Red Candle Warms the North Wind: [@Thanks, the pro’s calling you.]
[Pro, if you don’t wanna talk, ignore us. Typing pinyin seems tiring for you. Btw, are you an international student who can’t use Chinese characters?]

Lu Hanqiu: [Talk less. Which reply do you expect from the pro?]
Red Candle Warms the North Wind: [Fair point.]

Dong Yin suddenly realized playing aloof was great. Not answering made others think it was normal, not a problem.

She stayed silent, just reading their messages.

The chat went on, lines scrolling up as the topic drifted.

Red Candle Warms the North Wind: [Where’d you find this pro?]
Xie Mingjun: [Random match with Zou Yuxi.]

Red Candle Warms the North Wind: [Speaking of, how’s it going with that person?]
Xie Mingjun: [Not great.]
A few seconds later: [She’s staring at me.]

Lu Hanqiu: [Generally, if you’re not looking at someone, you wouldn’t know they’re staring.]
Xie Mingjun: [Ignored her.]

Ignored, huh?

Even while her hand was on Dong Yin’s thigh.

Dong Yin subtly pulled her leg back, but Xie Mingjun’s palm instinctively tightened, as if to drag her closer. When Xie Mingjun failed to pin her leg, she rested both hands on the table to type.

Cold as ever, like nothing happened.

Dong Yin stretched her leg out again, lightly brushing against Xie Mingjun’s. The boldness made her face burn, and she quickly glanced around before ducking her head, as if to bury it in a book.

Their legs pressed together. Dong Yin, hypersensitive, noticed Xie Mingjun’s breathing grow heavier.

The group chat had moved on, but Xie Mingjun suddenly replied: [She just needs to be put in her place.]

Red Candle Warms the North Wind: [Please. If you could actually handle her, would you dream about her every night?]

Dong Yin lifted her head slightly.

She typed in the group: [?]

But no one noticed the messages flew too fast.

No one knew Dong Yin had infiltrated their inner circle as they continued:

Red Candle Warms the North Wind: [What if you dream of her again tonight?]
Lu Hanqiu: [Yeah, and in your dreams, she’s doing yoga.]
Red Candle Warms the North Wind: [Hmm. You should really reflect on that.]