My Straight Girlfriend with Skin Hunger Syndrome - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Ying Yuan couldn’t fathom how she’d ended up in this situation.

It was a bright, sunny April day, the kind of day that drew thousands to the school’s annual sports meet. All she’d been doing was delivering water to her classmates who were competing, as instructed by the Class President, when someone had dragged her into this dimly lit, cramped space.

Yi Shanshan stared at her, her bright eyes the only light in the darkness, like radiant stars emitting a strange yet exhilarating glow.

“I’m up next,” she announced, her voice rising in pitch, clear and bright like a lively, tireless lark.

“I’m running the 800 meters and doing the high jump. The high jump is a piece of cake, but the long-distance run is exhausting.”

As she gazed at Ying Yuan, her brow furrowed slightly when she said “exhausting,” a hint of displeasure adding a touch of pitiable melancholy to her beautiful eyes. It was as if two more blinks could conjure up a pair of teardrops.

“That’s why I’m under so much pressure. Just thinking about how I could run my heart out and still not beat those ringers from the sports college makes me so angry and resentful.”

Ying Yuan blinked. She wanted to tell Yi Shanshan that not all colleges used ringers. For instance, the students representing their class were genuine Materials College students who ran so slowly they’d probably finish last, paving the way for Yi Shanshan to win.

Ying Yuan had no chance to speak. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Yi Shanshan’s entire figure became sharply defined, her intentions crystal clear.

“I need comfort,” Yi Shanshan said, reaching out her arms to Ying Yuan.

Despite participating in exhausting athletic events, Yi Shanshan remained dazzlingly dressed.

She wore a canary-yellow, form-fitting T-shirt, fluorescent green track pants with contrasting panels, and her hair was styled into twin fishtail braids, adorned with colorful, banner-like decorations.

To Ying Yuan, the outfit seemed excessively elaborate. But to Yi Shanshan, these colors seemed to emanate from her very being, vibrant and harmonious. Ying Yuan often felt as if the brightness stung her eyes.

“Silence means consent, you know,” Yi Shanshan declared, settling the matter for her.

In the next instant, Yi Shanshan’s soft body pressed against Ying Yuan’s, colliding into her arms. She wrapped her slender arms around Ying Yuan, holding her in a tight embrace.

The force of the impact made Ying Yuan’s heart skip a beat. It was always like this. Whenever Yi Shanshan dragged her into a secluded corner, it was always like this. She never consulted Ying Yuan, never discussed, never even asked for her permission. She simply wedged herself into Ying Yuan’s arms.

I’m going to hug you now, she announced.

And then, just like that, Yi Shanshan wrapped her limbs around Ying Yuan, pressing herself as close as she could to her bare skin, like a parched soul finding water.

The April weather wasn’t particularly warm, and Ying Yuan’s skin was cool to the touch, yet her breath was hot.

That warm, moist heat pressed against Ying Yuan’s neck, long, short, in, out, sending shivers across her skin, raising goosebumps and opening her pores. The ticklish sensation spread like tender vines sprouting in spring, crawling in all directions.

Ying Yuan remained motionless, stiff as a statue about to crack apart. She felt like she had stopped breathing, even her heart seemed to have paused. Yet Yi Shanshan’s scent still permeated her, invading every pore.

It was truly an intoxicating fragrance, like sweet, ripe fruit, capable of stirring one’s appetite. If this scent hadn’t come from Yi Shanshan’s body, Ying Yuan would have greedily inhaled it.

Even as she thought this, someone was already doing just that.

Yi Shanshan raised a hand to cup the back of Ying Yuan’s neck, pulling her even closer, leaving her no escape. Then, with a flutter of her delicate nostrils, she traced the pulse in Ying Yuan’s neck up to her earlobe.

A voice full of amusement brushed Ying Yuan’s ear, Yi Shanshan’s tone utterly carefree. “You know? You smell so good.”

Ying Yuan’s throat felt parched, her voice cracking like a malfunctioning electronic device as she forced out the words, “I’ve never… used perfume.”

Yi Shanshan laughed, the vibrations of her laughter coursing through Ying Yuan’s body—every ripple, every tremor.

Their bodies were intertwined as if bound by a thousand invisible threads.

“That makes it all the more precious,” Yi Shanshan murmured, drawing in a deep breath, as if appraising a uniquely gifted commodity. “If it could be priced and sold, it wouldn’t be precious.”

Ying Yuan had never considered herself precious. From childhood, she had always been acutely aware of her ordinariness.

Ordinary looks, ordinary intelligence, ordinary family background and experiences. At nineteen, barely half a year into college, she had no remarkable story to tell.

Ying Yuan couldn’t fathom what made her special enough for Yi Shanshan to choose her, offering this secretive and peculiar service.

The truly remarkable one was Yi Shanshan herself—a stunning face, a captivating personality. Within a month of starting school, she had become a sensation on the campus forum, crowned as the new school beauty.

Wherever she went, she drew all eyes, perpetually the subject of endless gossip. Her admirers were legion, frequently making “headline-worthy” grand gestures that plastered the school’s confession wall.

Their connection, it seemed, extended no further than having attended the same high school and university.

Was it just homesickness, then?

“You’re spacing out,” Yi Shanshan said.

She wriggled her arm around Ying Yuan’s, finally pulling back slightly to look up at her.

“Waaah! How can anyone zone out while I’m hugging them? Ying Yuan, you’re breaking my heart!”

“Spacing out doesn’t affect the hug,” Ying Yuan replied.

Yi Shanshan stared at her, speechless.

Ying Yuan heard the stadium announcer’s voice booming from the loudspeakers. They were tucked into an alcove behind the stands, where the blaring music and the thunderous roar of the crowd enveloped them.

Ying Yuan couldn’t imagine the ripple effect if anyone saw her and Yi Shanshan like this—how much unnecessary drama it would stir in her otherwise ordinary college life.

“You’re up,” Ying Yuan said, following the loudspeaker’s announcement. “Music Performance, Class of ’24, Yi Shanshan.”

Yi Shanshan pouted, looking utterly aggrieved.

She huffed dramatically, tightened her arms around Ying Yuan in one last desperate squeeze, and finally, reluctantly, broke the hug.

“I’ll go out first,” Yi Shanshan said.

Ying Yuan understood her meaning and nodded.

Yi Shanshan turned and walked away, her sparkling hair ribbon and clothes shimmering in the sunlight streaming from beyond the corner.

Ying Yuan raised a hand to shield her eyes. Only after Yi Shanshan had completely left the corner did she step out.

The sunlight outside was dazzling. As Ying Yuan returned to the stadium, the Class President noticed the water in her hand and asked, “Where did you go just now? Couldn’t find her?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ying Yuan replied. “Where is she?”

The Class President pointed. “She’s already on the track. Don’t worry, she’s just too nervous. Actually, drinking water right before a race isn’t a good idea. If she gets even more anxious, she’ll need to go to the bathroom again.”

Ying Yuan looked out across the massive stadium, where busy athletes and referees dotted the scene like scattered stars.

At the far end of the red track, the women’s 800-meter runners were already preparing for their race.

Yi Shanshan stood out among them, strikingly conspicuous.

Perhaps it was her striking appearance, her undeniable beauty, or the lingering warmth of their recent embrace, but Ying Yuan found herself instinctively drawn to her alone.

Yes, sports competitions can be nerve-wracking.

But when others get nervous, they might want a drink of water or need to use the restroom. Why does Yi Shanshan have to be different? Why does she insist on hugging me?

As Ying Yuan drifted into this daze, Yi Shanshan, having finished adjusting her shoelaces, straightened up and waved toward the stands.

She was waving toward the music conservatory’s section, but the deafening cheers erupted from all directions.

So many people, wearing class uniforms of different colors, spontaneously rose to their feet, excitedly shouting in Yi Shanshan’s direction.

The school’s official camera quickly captured this moment, and Yi Shanshan’s face immediately appeared on the giant screen next to the podium. Her suddenly magnified beauty shone like the sun, and the cheers intensified to a deafening roar.

Class President: “Holy shit, she’s gorgeous!”

Ying Yuan: “……”

Class President: “Can’t even compare, can’t compare. Art students are just on another level. That earring of hers is so cool—must be designer, right? A crying face?”

Ying Yuan: “Don’t recognize it.”

“Sigh… Beautiful, rich, talented in singing and running, bursting with talent, healthy as a horse… What window did God close for her?” the Class President lamented.

The window of mental health, Ying Yuan thought silently.

“Still filming her? Half a minute already? The school media is so opportunistic, so pathetic,” the Class President grumbled.

Ying Yuan watched the big screen. Even after being filmed for so long, Yi Shanshan showed no embarrassment whatsoever. With practically no bad angles, she casually continued her activities under the school’s live broadcast cameras.

The camera remained fixed on her. Yi Shanshan glanced up, locked eyes with the lens, and flashed a brilliant smile, forming a heart with her hands.

A roar of cheers erupted.

The Class President shrieked in Ying Yuan’s ear: “Aaaaaaahhhhh—”

Ying Yuan covered her ears.

“Aaaaaaahhhhh—She’s so beautiful! So adorable! I’m even starting to root for her to win! Aaaaaaahhhhh—I’m such a traitor! Just as pathetic as the school media!”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Ying Yuan murmured.

As the competition was about to begin, the camera finally shifted away to focus on other athletes.

The Class President, her face still flushed from shouting, clutched her chest and took deep breaths, finally remembering her duties.

“Ying Yuan, um, go pick up Lina. Our class has so few girls, and no one volunteered for these grueling events. I had to practically beg everyone to participate. We’re not aiming for a top spot, just participation. Since you’re not competing, focus on logistical support and make sure Lina feels the warmth of the group.”

“Mm,” Ying Yuan replied.

Grabbing a towel and water, and even waving a small “Materials College Must Win!” flag, Ying Yuan sauntered toward the 800-meter finish line.

Students from other classes were also gathered, their eyes glued to their own athletes, cheering them on. Some were even preparing to run alongside.

Ying Yuan’s gaze drifted from Lina to Yi Shanshan, then back to Lina.

Yi Shanshan, surrounded by admirers like the moon amidst the stars, certainly didn’t need her anymore.

What kind of warmth can I offer Lina? Ying Yuan’s arm twitched involuntarily as she wondered: Should I just give her a warm hug?