My Straight Girlfriend with Skin Hunger Syndrome - Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Before the sharing session officially began, Yi Shanshan stayed true to her word: she ignored Ying Yuan completely.
Even now, with Lina absent from Ying Yuan’s side and none of Yi Shanshan’s numerous friends nearby, the two sat in silence. Yi Shanshan avoided looking at Ying Yuan, and after her initial shocked glance, Ying Yuan didn’t dare meet Yi Shanshan’s gaze either.
A soundless silence hung between them.
Ying Yuan put down her pen. The notes she had been taking gradually blurred in her mind. All she could do now was steady her heartbeat and breathing, trying to appear as composed as someone for whom nothing had happened.
The keynote speaker finally took the stage. Her opening remarks were so witty that the audience rose to their feet in applause.
Ying Yuan wanted to stand as well, out of respect, but her backpack, its zipper undone, lay open on her lap. She had to grip the bag’s opening first before hastily rising to her feet.
Her movements were clumsy and perhaps too abrupt. Her elbow bumped the armrest of the adjacent seat with a loud clank.
Ying Yuan immediately lowered her gaze and met Yi Shanshan’s sidelong glance.
Those beautiful eyes blinked slowly, their thick, curled lashes like tiny brushes stroking the tip of her heart.
“I’m sorry…” Ying Yuan murmured softly.
Yi Shanshan didn’t acknowledge Ying Yuan’s apology. She merely glanced at her briefly before looking away, then smoothly pushed up the armrest that was already half-raised.
Between their seats, there was now no barrier.
Yi Shanshan rose gracefully, her applause and smile appearing more polished and professional than anyone else’s.
For a fleeting moment, Ying Yuan felt a strange illusion: perhaps Yi Shanshan was genuinely interested in this exhibition, and offering her an extra ticket had been merely a casual gesture.
Snapping out of her thoughts, Ying Yuan barely caught the tail end of the applause. When she sat down, her movements felt clumsy and awkward.
She couldn’t help but compare herself to the calm, elegant Yi Shanshan beside her.
The lecture began, and a massive PowerPoint presentation filled the entire screen.
Ying Yuan buried her head in her notebook, diligently taking notes. Yet despite focusing all her senses on seeing, hearing, and writing, a small part of her attention drifted involuntarily toward Yi Shanshan.
Yi Shanshan brushed a strand of hair aside.
Yi Shanshan twirled a pen between her fingers.
Yi Shanshan dropped her pen; it landed on her lap.
Today, Yi Shanshan wore a navy blue, mid-length pleated skirt—a very academic look.
When Yi Shanshan’s hand rested on the skirt, its pale, pink-tinged skin stood out vividly.
Yi Shanshan’s hands were beautiful too.
Ying Yuan’s fingers curled inward, her heart skipping a beat.
She set down her pen, took a deep breath, and let her hands fall beneath the table, clenching them tightly together.
To calm this unnerving tension that defies reason.
Yi Shanshan, who had been staring straight ahead, subtly shifted her gaze. With a sidelong glance, she observed Ying Yuan’s every move.
Ying Yuan was gripping her hands so fiercely that the tips of her fingers were flushed red, her pale wrist showing a faint bulge of the radius bone.
Yi Shanshan didn’t bother picking up the pen that had fallen onto her skirt. Right now, Ying Yuan’s hand was far more intriguing.
Leaning slightly to the right, Yi Shanshan let her arm fall casually, her palm landing within Ying Yuan’s personal space with effortless ease.
Her fingertips brushed Ying Yuan’s wrist—a feather-light touch, yet like water finally finding its channel, bringing an instant, exhilarating relief.
Ying Yuan jumped in surprise, her entire body shuddering.
But like a machine programmed for propriety, she didn’t dare even glance at Yi Shanshan in shock in such a public, formal, and crowded setting.
Undeterred, Yi Shanshan pressed her entire palm against Ying Yuan’s wrist, her fingers gently stroking the skin.
The tension in Ying Yuan’s clenched hands dissolved, and goosebumps rose visibly on her skin.
Yi Shanshan continued to listen attentively to the lecture, her expression focused, but her hand never left Ying Yuan’s skin, stroking it repeatedly like petting a cat.
Only when Ying Yuan’s sudden trembling subsided, and she finally realized what Yi Shanshan was doing, did her face flush crimson—the blush spreading down her neck and up her arms.
Even her eyes seemed to glisten with moisture as she could no longer ignore Yi Shanshan beside her. She turned her head, her brow furrowed in a pleading expression.
Yi Shanshan ignored her entirely, increasing the pressure on Ying Yuan’s wrist as she slowly slid her fingers down, prying apart Ying Yuan’s tightly clasped palms.
Ying Yuan’s palms were hot, slightly damp with perspiration.
Disliking the way Yi Shanshan’s fingertips were pressing inward, she instinctively relaxed her grip, then lowered her head and whispered softly, trying to reason with her.
“Don’t… I still need to… take notes…”
Yi Shanshan seized one of Ying Yuan’s palms, squeezing it tightly without any intention of letting go.
She turned to Ying Yuan, tilting her chin upward with a clear message: You still have your other hand.
Then she raised an eyebrow, adding: And it’s your right hand too. That’s all you need.
Ying Yuan: “……”
Yi Shanshan turned her head back and resumed listening to the lecture.
Ying Yuan, however, couldn’t focus on a single word. Her right hand trembled as she gripped her pen, managing only a few aimless scribbles in her notebook.
Yi Shanshan was relentlessly tormenting her left hand.
The palm is an inherently sensitive area. Yi Shanshan’s fingertips alternated between forceful pinches, gentle strokes, and pressing her palm completely against Ying Yuan’s, secretly slipping between her fingers to create an ambiguous, ten-fingered interlock.
Ying Yuan passively endured it all. Each subtle movement from Yi Shanshan sent a tiny electric current coursing through her limbs and bones, its erratic path eventually converging on her pounding heart and feverish blood.
Whatever was happening beneath the table, Yi Shanshan maintained a bored expression as she listened to the lecture.
Only occasionally would a fleeting smile of pleasure flicker across her face, which she quickly suppressed.
The strange one was Ying Yuan. An unnatural flush persisted on her cheeks, and she would suddenly lower her eyes in embarrassment, even shrinking into herself during quiet moments.
The lecture continued. After forty minutes of sharing, the question-and-answer session began.
Anyone in the audience could raise their hand to ask a question. Following brief interviews with two journalists, attendees began posing lighthearted and everyday questions.
The atmosphere relaxed and livened, and a low murmur of conversation gradually rose around them.
Having spent thirteen years in formal education, Ying Yuan found the classroom noise surprisingly pleasant for the first time, like a thin protective umbrella enveloping her.
She tried to pull her hand free, but failed.
Yi Shanshan wasn’t gripping tightly, but her fingers were intertwined so tightly that they had been torturing Ying Yuan’s hand for half an hour, with no sign of stopping.
Ying Yuan lowered her head, attempting to communicate again: “Let go.”
Yi Shanshan tilted her head, propped her cheek with her left hand, and blinked innocently, her eyes betraying no emotion.
Ying Yuan recalled that day in the library when Yi Shanshan had angrily shouted at her, “If you ignore me, I’ll ignore you right back!”
“I was wrong,” Ying Yuan pleaded, sliding to her knees with surprising speed. “Please, talk to me.”
Yi Shanshan finally laughed, her smile breaking free and flooding her face. Her lips curved upward, her eyebrows arched, and her eyes sparkled like distant stars after a storm.
She gazed warmly at Ying Yuan, her eyes shimmering with starry light, like clouds parting after rain. Ying Yuan’s spirits lifted as if a weight had been lifted from her heart.
Yi Shanshan is happy now, Ying Yuan thought. She’s forgiven me. She’ll let go of me.
But in the next moment, Yi Shanshan seized Ying Yuan’s hand and raised it high!
Their clasped hands, hidden beneath the table moments before, were now exposed, stark and bare, in the open air.
In full view of the crowd, as if that weren’t enough, Yi Shanshan called out loudly, “Teacher, over here!”