My Straight Girlfriend with Skin Hunger Syndrome - Chapter 22
Chapter 22
As soon as the waiter left the private room, it exploded with excitement.
Mao Mao: “Aaaaaaaah! This is straight out of a CEO romance novel! Aaaaaaah! I can’t believe I’m actually experiencing this in real life! I’m totally the best friend of the female lead! Aaaaaaah!”
Lina, affecting a dainty voice: “Ms. Ying Yuan, this meal was added by your friend. We hope you enjoy yourself! Ah! How could you not be happy? Being showered with money? Who wouldn’t be thrilled?!”
Xiaohan nudged Ying Yuan’s arm, winking suggestively. “Another gift from Rich Lady, huh? She’s been coming on strong lately, sending gifts every other day. Could she have found out about your connection with Campus Belle Yi Shanshan and gotten jealous? Is that why she’s suddenly acting so desperate?”
Mao Mao: “That’s a fresh perspective!”
Lina: “It’s not unreasonable. At least twice now, the Rich Lady has shown up whenever Yi Shanshan is around.”
Mao Mao: “Holy shit, you’re right! There’s actually a connection between them!”
Xiaohan: “I never would have guessed, Ying Yuan. You’re usually so quiet, yet you’re so popular with women.”
Ying Yuan’s mind was still reeling, but she had to speak up. Just as Yi Shanshan needed to clarify they were merely friends, Ying Yuan had to distance Yi Shanshan from these incidents.
“You guys really need to stop guessing wildly. Yi Shanshan is so famous. If someone overhears us, they’ll think we’re spreading rumors.”
The phrase “spreading rumors” felt too harsh, instantly dampening the cheerful mood in the room by more than half.
Mao Mao clapped a hand over her mouth. “We were just gossiping among ourselves! We wouldn’t tell anyone else…”
Ying Yuan glanced at the items on the table—all undeniably expensive. For ordinary female college students like them, these gifts were extravagantly luxurious, even extravagant.
Yi Shanshan had never been stingy with her gifts, while Ying Yuan could only reciprocate with trivial, worthless trinkets like the Little Capybara she’d given her the other day.
This wasn’t a fair exchange; it came with strings attached.
It was like a barter system: whenever their hugs caused Ying Yuan trouble, Yi Shanshan would pull out such “compensation.”
“And the Rich Lady…” Ying Yuan continued. “It’s not as complicated as you think. Our relationship is perfectly ordinary. These gifts are because I’m helping her with some work.”
Complete silence fell over the booth. The trio sat frozen, their minds likely racing through countless possibilities.
Ying Yuan added, “So, these are our rewards.”
“I get it, I get it…” Xiaohan nodded. After a pause, she asked, “Can we eat these?”
“Of course,” Ying Yuan replied with absolute certainty. Yi Shanshan had bought them for everyone to share; she never hesitated to share with her friends.
“Oh, okay. Thanks, Rich Lady!” Xiaohan said.
Mao Mao and Lina quickly chimed in, “Thank you, Rich Lady!”
“Let’s sing!” Xiaohan exclaimed. “Rich Lady wants us to have fun, so let’s enjoy the night!”
Everything returned to normal as the room filled with boisterous singing.
Amid the din, Ying Yuan continued to ponder her unresolved questions. Why, even though everything seems perfectly normal and reasonable, can’t I feel happy?
Did Yi Shanshan say she wanted me to have fun because she’s having fun herself? Or because she thinks she did something to upset me?
Lina sat down beside Ying Yuan, carefully observing her expression. “I’m sorry, Ying Yuan,” she said tentatively. “We just got carried away. We won’t say anything outside this room.”
“Mm,” Ying Yuan replied. “I trust you all.”
Lina let out a long sigh of relief. “I’m glad you believe us. That’s all that matters. So… Ying Yuan, won’t working part-time be really tough?”
Ying Yuan: “Hmm?”
“I mean, you used to work part-time a lot—filing documents in offices, dressing up as mascots in shopping malls, and now… helping the Rich Lady? Doesn’t it get really hectic and exhausting?”
“It can get a little hectic,” Ying Yuan admitted, reflecting on her past with Yi Shanshan. Though honestly, it’s hardly been exhausting at all.
So she added, “But it’s okay. I enjoy doing it.”
“That’s good.” Lina relaxed, leaning back into the sofa as she listened to music and chatted casually with Ying Yuan. “Don’t take our shipping too seriously. Shipping couples is just a hobby these days. People don’t want the hassle of real relationships, so they fantasize about other people’s happy love lives as a substitute.
“BG pairings are boring now, so we ship BL and GL instead. The forbidden vibes make it even more thrilling, you know?”
Lina paused, then suddenly asked, “Ying Yuan, have you ever been in love?”
“Huh?” Ying Yuan felt a jolt, like a mild electric shock to her brain. But the answer was undeniable. She immediately replied, “No.”
Lina: “Never? A lifelong single?”
“Mm-hmm,” Ying Yuan replied.
“Have you ever had a secret crush?” Lina asked.
“No,” Ying Yuan replied.
Lina’s eyes widened. “But you must have felt your heart skip a beat at least once, right?”
Ying Yuan’s fingers tightened around the hem of her shirt. After a moment of contemplation, she countered, “What exactly counts as a ‘heart skipping a beat’? How do you define the concept and intensity of such a feeling?”
“Ah… what an innocent question!” Lina collapsed into her seat. Amidst the soft melodies of a gentle love song, she attempted to answer. “No one can really give a concrete standard or definition for when your heart skips a beat.”
“Everyone probably experiences it differently.”
“Some might feel it just from hearing a single sentence, while others might feel it from a fleeting glance as they pass each other on the street.”
“Some people act on their feelings immediately, while others simply let the moment pass without doing anything.”
“For some, the feeling might last for a long, long time. Every time they see that person, their heart races and their face flushes. For others, it’s frequent but fleeting. They might like this person today, that person tomorrow, and when they meet someone new the day after, they forget all about the previous ones.”
“So, how do you define xindong? It’s both fleeting and profound,” Lina sighed deeply.
Ying Yuan was awed by her words. “You sound like a poet.”
Lina: “Everyone becomes a poet when they’re in love.”
Ying Yuan: “Have you ever felt xindong? Do you like the feeling?”
Lina: “I don’t have much romantic experience, but when it comes to xindong… I’ve felt it all—every type I mentioned earlier. As for the feeling itself…”
“At first, it’s pure joy, happiness, excitement, like spring blossoms bursting forth—bright and warm. But this joy is like a frog slowly being boiled in warm water. You sink into it unconsciously, and by the time you feel the pain…”
Lina suddenly turned and poked Ying Yuan’s chest. “When your heart aches, it’s already too late. You can’t escape anymore. You’re doomed. You’ve fallen in love.”
The drumbeat in the music suddenly intensified, overlapping with Ying Yuan’s own pounding heart: thump-thump-thump, boom-boom-boom.
Ying Yuan snapped out of her daze. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing,” she said.
Lina replied, “If they like you back, it’s the best thing ever. If they don’t, you’re stuck with endless heartache.”
Ying Yuan remained silent. As the song ended, she got up to divide the snacks and drinks on the table, calling everyone over to eat.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Ying Yuan didn’t receive any new messages from Yi Shanshan, and Mao Mao, Xiaohan, and Lina, exhausted from playing, collapsed onto the sofa and fell asleep.
At the first light of dawn, the group returned to their dormitory, utterly drained. Ying Yuan lay on her bed, but sleep eluded her.
Around noon, she texted Yi Shanshan: I need to extend the three-day deadline. I’ve been swamped lately.
Two hours later, Yi Shanshan replied:
Perfect timing! I’ve been swamped too.
Small matters can wait, but you absolutely must free up time for me on May 1st. I have to attend a Tencent event—massive scale, huge crowd, live broadcast. I’m going to be so, so, so nervous!
Pressure’s overwhelming! – Rubber Duck Emoji
【Please be by my side at this time. I really, really, really need you!】
【I’ll get you a media pass so you can go anywhere you want. There’s a gala dinner, performances, and tons of celebrities. If you like any of them, I can help you get signed photos.】
Yi Shanshan even thoughtfully sent Ying Yuan the official event’s celebrity preview images.
There were indeed a lot of famous faces. If Ying Yuan showed these to Mao Mao, her friend would probably explode with excitement.
But Ying Yuan wasn’t interested in celebrity worship, so the offer held little appeal for her.
Whether she agreed to this depended entirely on Yi Shanshan’s two lines: “I’ll be super, super, super nervous” and “I really, really, really need you.”
Stopping something required a process, Ying Yuan still believed.
She had already transitioned from Yi Shanshan potentially showing up unannounced to a planned visit every three days, and then to only contacting her for genuinely important matters.
Ying Yuan saw this as a gradual, healthy progression with significant results.
So she had to keep going, which meant agreeing to Yi Shanshan’s request once again.
【Okay.】
She sent back a single word.
Ahhhhhh! This is the best! Waaah, thank you so much, Yuanbao! You’re the absolute best! You’re my precious darling, my anchor! Don’t you know how much you mean to me? Muah muah muah muah muah muah muah! A thousand kisses!
Yi Shanshan flooded her inbox with a lengthy reply.
Ying Yuan blushed and turned her head away, truly wanting to avoid reading such messages from Yi Shanshan.
A long period of quiet followed. Yi Shanshan stopped bothering Ying Yuan, and after the karaoke incident, Lina stopped clinging to her as well.
The trio still hung out often, with Ying Yuan occasionally joining them, though she mostly preferred her own company.
She attended classes, read books, and worked various part-time jobs until the agreed-upon date arrived, shattering the calm at Yi Shanshan’s instigation.
On May 1st, Labor Day, the school was closed. After lunch, Ying Yuan rushed to Tencent’s event venue.
This was truly a massive event. Cars were already backed up a hundred meters before the venue entrance.
Ying Yuan lowered her car window and peered out. There was hardly any free space on either side of the road, with crowds of fans gathered everywhere and support banners and posters lining the streets.
The final stretch took over ten minutes. Ying Yuan got out of the car at a side entrance of the Performance Venue, guarded by security personnel. Beyond the barricades, a sea of fans surged.
Ying Yuan felt a pang of uncertainty, unsure if she could enter through this gate.
A security guard spotted her staff badge and waved her off. “Not yet! The event hasn’t started. Everyone’s waiting outside. Outside only.”
Ying Yuan reluctantly retreated, blending back into the crowd.
The crowd buzzed with excitement. These young women, united by their devotion to the same idol, undeterred by the effort, saw this anticipation and waiting as a pilgrimage of love.
Standing at the edge of the crowd on a low flight of steps, Ying Yuan gazed down at them. As the wait stretched on, she felt a growing sense of disorientation, wondering what exactly she was waiting for.
Her phone rang, playing Yi Shanshan’s unique ringtone.
Ying Yuan answered, hearing Yi Shanshan’s clear, cheerful voice amidst the ambient noise: “Ying Yuan! Are you here yet?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” Ying Yuan replied.
“Where are you? On the third floor? I don’t see you.”
“I can’t get in. The security guard said the event hasn’t started yet, so no entry.”
“Aiya…” Yi Shanshan tilted her head away from the microphone and asked someone else, “Ling’er, are they still not letting people in with media passes?”
A sweet female voice replied, and the two clarified the entry times and rules for the media before discussing lunch boxes and drinks.
Ying Yuan waited quietly. After a long while, Yi Shanshan returned to the phone’s microphone and sighed deeply. “Ugh… they’re making it impossible to get in. Strict entry, loose exit. You can follow the media to the main hall for the red carpet this afternoon, then head to the banquet hall for the feast after the stars arrive.”
“Okay,” Ying Yuan murmured, mentally noting the information.
“It’s still early. There’s a shopping mall nearby—did you see it? Lots of shops there. Find a coffee shop to sit in and browse your phone. Once you’ve settled in, send me the shop’s name, and I’ll have someone bring you a camera. That way, you’ll look more like a real reporter.”
“Alright.”
“Ugh…” Yi Shanshan lowered her voice. “I so wish you could get in. There’s a rehearsal later, and I wanted you to see it.”
“It’s okay,” Ying Yuan replied. “Seeing the performance tonight will be just as good.”
Yi Shanshan: “But we won’t get to see each other until after the show… It’s going to be torture…”
“You…” Ying Yuan paused, realizing that only those two words seemed appropriate for Yi Shanshan. “Good luck.”
Yi Shanshan laughed softly, playfully scolding her, “Are you a robot or something? You’re so dull.”
Ying Yuan didn’t know how to respond, but fortunately, she didn’t need to. The sweet voice from Yi Shanshan’s end of the line spoke up. Yi Shanshan hastily said, “I’ll call you later,” and hung up.
Ying Yuan put away her phone and headed toward the mall, following Yi Shanshan’s instructions.
During their time together, Ying Yuan had spent considerable time waiting for Yi Shanshan. Not wanting to appear too eager, she had passively waited.
In the past, waiting hadn’t bothered her; it was like simply waiting to do something, something not particularly unpleasant.
But now, as she waited, she felt a growing sense of unease and emptiness. She wanted to finish this quickly, to put everything about Yi Shanshan out of her mind, as if doing so might ease her vague anxiety.
Ying Yuan sat in the café, a book in her hands, not turning a page for what felt like an eternity.
Midway through, Yi Shanshan sent someone to deliver a camera that looked extraordinarily expensive. When Ying Yuan texted to confirm its arrival, Yi Shanshan sent back a selfie.
It was Yi Shanshan, her makeup flawless, her hair curled into meticulous, glossy waves. Her pale yellow gown cascaded like layers of overlapping petals.
She held up half a heart toward Ying Yuan, the curve of her palm like an unfinished embrace. Her eyes were strikingly beautiful, sparkling like dazzling gemstones that sparked a greedy possessiveness in those who gazed upon them.
Ying Yuan found herself staring at the photo for an unusually long time.
As her finger hovered over the “Save Image” button, her chest tightened. The sudden constriction around her heart made her cough violently.
A long wait, a long-held secret.
Several hours later, the red carpet event finally began. A cacophony of cheers erupted below as Ying Yuan, camera in hand, stepped into the crowd. The adoring shouts washed over her in waves, like relentless gusts of wind.
Finding an inconspicuous spot, she blended into the ranks of media reporters, watching as one glamorous star after another emerged from their cars, paused before them, and passed by.
Then Ying Yuan saw Yi Shanshan.
So beautiful. A Yi Shanshan so stunning she seemed almost like a stranger. Yi Shanshan stepped out of the car, arm in arm with another sweet and charming actress.
The cameras clicked incessantly as the two young, beautiful princesses, like a vibrant field of flowers, waved to the crowd, exchanged radiant smiles, and twirled gracefully on the red carpet, holding hands in a dance-like embrace.
Someone shoved Ying Yuan, squeezing her out of her already precarious spot.
Her view was completely blocked, leaving her staring at nothing but a scrap of someone’s dark, grimy clothing.
The crowd’s stench was overwhelming—a chaotic mix of oil, sweat, and acrid perfume. Ying Yuan frowned and edged backward, while Yi Shanshan had already moved to the autograph wall, sweetly answering interview questions.
Ying Yuan suddenly recalled how, more than once, people had said upon seeing Yi Shanshan, “Ah, no comparison—they’re from entirely different worlds.”
Only now did Ying Yuan truly understand what they meant.
Even after entering the Performance Venue, the wait stretched on endlessly.
The media area was cramped, wedged into corners flanking the stage. Ying Yuan knew that if she left her seat for even a moment, she’d lose it for good.
Below the stage, the central area glittered with the city’s elite, their attire elegant and their presence commanding. At 8 PM, the formal events finally began.
Yi Shanshan’s performance was scheduled late, close to 10 PM. She sang a sweet and romantic love song in a duet with Zheng Yueling, a newly popular singer who had walked the red carpet with her. The performance was a resounding success. As flower petals rained down on the stage, the two transformed into true flower fairies.
After the performance, Ying Yuan received a new message from Yi Shanshan:
Waaah! Finally it’s over! This dress was practically suffocating me!
I haven’t touched my phone for four hours! Oh my god! My phone addiction is going into overdrive!
But the worst addiction isn’t to my phone, it’s to YOU, Ying Yuan! Right now! This very second! I need to hold you!
I’m going to hold you tight for half an hour!
[Cat emoji with a manic expression]
Come to the backstage dressing room, 302, hurry!
Ying Yuan rubbed her slightly numb arm, stood up, and walked out.
Perhaps because she had been waiting so long, now that she was finally about to do it, her heart pounded both wearily and forcefully, and her breathing became somewhat heavy.
Her steps weren’t particularly quick, but she felt an urgent sense of impatience, as if an nameless fire was burning within her, seeking release.
Ying Yuan left the venue and headed upstairs. She navigated the long, unfamiliar corridors, passing other hurried figures, until she found room 302 in the opulent building.
The door to 302 stood ajar, faint sounds drifting from within.
Before taking the final step, Ying Yuan took a deep breath, calming her racing heart.
She wanted to present Yi Shanshan with her most serene and composed self, hoping to convey that everything between them was peaceful and normal.
Having gathered her composure, she took the step.
Her hand, poised to knock, froze mid-air, suspended in a dazed stillness.
Because Yi Shanshan wasn’t alone. Zheng Yueling was there too.
Zheng Yueling was nestled in Yi Shanshan’s arms, held tightly in her embrace.
The two radiant blossoms leaned together, their pale yellow and pink skirts blending softly into one another.
Ying Yuan couldn’t see Yi Shanshan’s expression, but she could clearly see Zheng Yueling’s posture: her face buried completely in Yi Shanshan’s embrace, her hair cascading down, blurring the boundary between their skin.
Ying Yuan felt as if a rope had tightened around her neck, choking her breath.
A massive tremor and searing pain erupted simultaneously in her heart, stiffening her body and rendering it powerless.
Her first instinct was to retreat—to take that step back, retreating until she could no longer see into the room.
She leaned against the hallway wall, desperate to gasp for air but afraid to breathe.
She had become the frog boiled slowly in lukewarm water, finally feeling the searing pain and understanding her predicament.
She had fallen for Yi Shanshan.
Perhaps she had fallen for Yi Shanshan long ago.
She had indulged in the bright, springtime joy, rationalizing and excusing her actions while ignoring all obstacles and pitfalls.
Before her yawned a bottomless abyss, and she had already reached its edge.
She compared herself to others, she envied, she coveted, she overindulged, she grew greedy, she wanted to possess her completely.
Yet she could do nothing. Anger and terror consumed her; she had no right to act.
She could only wait here, until her limbs grew numb and her temples throbbed.
How long passed before her consciousness returned? Reason offered a brutally simple solution.
Ying Yuan pulled out her phone and quickly sent Yi Shanshan a message:
Looks like I’m not needed here anymore. I’ll head back.
To appear calm and normal, she added:
Congratulations on your successful performance! Have fun!
After sending the message, Ying Yuan turned and strode away, her pace genuinely brisk this time. If not for the formal setting, she would have broken into a run.
Just as she reached the corridor, a figure darted out.
Yi Shanshan, clutching the hem of her elaborate princess gown, sprinted with the ferocity of an 800-meter dash, collapsing time and distance as if by sheer force of will. She moved like a dazzling, blurred spring sunbeam.
“Ying Yuan!” she shouted, throwing all decorum to the wind.
The shout forced Ying Yuan to halt and turn around.
Yi Shanshan rushed forward, radiating light and fragrance, until she crashed into Ying Yuan’s arms.
She wrapped her arms around Ying Yuan in a massive hug, then tilted her face upward, her smile as radiant as the sun.
“Who said I don’t need you anymore?!” Yi Shanshan’s voice was sweet and coquettish. “I haven’t even hugged you yet! How could I not need you?!”
“Where are you headed now? It’s so late! By the time you get back to school, the dorm doors will be locked!”
“The organizers booked us a hotel! I upgraded to a deluxe suite—let’s have a girls’ night out off campus tonight!”
Yi Shanshan’s lips curled upward in a grin so wide it could practically reach the heavens. “We’ve both worked so hard today. We deserve a proper treat tonight!”