My Straight Girlfriend with Skin Hunger Syndrome - Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Ying Yuan allowed herself an afternoon of dejection.
After returning to school from the hotel, she did nothing but sit at her desk, lost in thought.
Fortunately, it was the holiday break. Mao Mao and Xiaohan were out playing, leaving her alone in the dorm, so her strange behavior went unnoticed.
She rarely indulged in such moments, immersing herself in her emotions and letting them take over.
She freely replayed every memory, her mind weaving countless alternate paths for her and Yi Shanshan—some leading to joy, others to sorrow.
By the time she had exhausted all possibilities, when no fresh scenarios surfaced in her mind, every conceivable outcome for her and Yi Shanshan had reached its conclusion.
As night fell, Ying Yuan finally felt drained. The weight of both physical and emotional exhaustion slammed into her, and she collapsed onto her bed, falling asleep the instant her head touched the pillow.
She slept straight through until seven the next morning.
Her biological clock roused her. Without hesitation or delay, she slipped out of bed and quietly went to wash up.
Mao Mao and Xiaohan had returned sometime last night and were still fast asleep.
The dormitory was eerily quiet. Few students woke this early during the holiday, making Ying Yuan seem almost peculiar.
It didn’t take long to tidy up and head out.
Ying Yuan slung her backpack over her shoulder, grabbing her water bottle and charger—her usual library-bound gear.
Step by unhurried step, she descended the staircase. Through the hallway window, the misty, damp morning air clung to the mountains behind the dormitory, filling her with a sense of grounded tranquility.
Emerging from the dorm, Ying Yuan didn’t even look up before turning toward the cafeteria.
“Ying Yuan,” a soft, thin voice called out, stopping her in her tracks.
Ying Yuan paused, wondering if she was hallucinating.
“Ying Yuan,” the voice called again, tinged with a frail resignation and sorrow.
Ying Yuan turned around and saw Yi Shanshan.
Yi Shanshan stood directly across from the dormitory entrance, beneath the towering goldenrain trees.
She was painfully thin, her clothes hanging loosely on her frame. Her usually meticulously styled, beautiful long hair was now carelessly bundled up.
A large suitcase sat beside her. The faint morning light fell behind her, giving her a hazy, ethereal glow.
Her face was ashen, her clothes rumpled and dusty. She bore no resemblance to the vibrant, flamboyant Yi Shanshan she usually knew.
Ying Yuan’s heart trembled, but her expression remained completely neutral.
Since yesterday, Ying Yuan had resolved to treat Yi Shanshan with the most ordinary, even detached, attitude, regardless of what tactics Yi Shanshan might employ—just like any other classmate she passed by.
So she didn’t move, not even a step toward Yi Shanshan.
Her voice, when she spoke, was flat, bordering on indifferent: “Hello. What is it?”
Yi Shanshan stood there, gazing at her, her brow furrowing slightly, clearly unaccustomed to such indifference.
The distance between them was too great for any private conversation; even normal conversation required shouting.
Yi Shanshan waited, but her waiting was futile.
Receiving no immediate reply, Ying Yuan turned and continued walking.
Behind her, the “rumbling” of someone pulling a suitcase grew louder as they hurried to catch up.
A familiar scent drifted to Ying Yuan’s side as Yi Shanshan fluttered up beside her like a butterfly.
“Ying Yuan, I need to talk to you,” Yi Shanshan said, her voice as light as the flutter of butterfly wings. “Could you spare a few minutes?”
Ying Yuan didn’t look at her, still walking forward. “I’m sorry, I don’t have time right now.”
Yi Shanshan: “It won’t take long. I just need to clarify a few things.”
“We clarified everything yesterday,” Ying Yuan said. “I’m still sorting out what I owe you. Some items need to be ordered online, so it’ll take a little more time.”
“You know I’m not here for the money,” Yi Shanshan retorted.
“Then there’s nothing else to discuss.”
“As if you get to decide that! I’m the one who wants to talk!” Yi Shanshan’s temper flared again, but she seemed exhausted, her fiery words fizzling out mid-sentence, her voice dropping to a pitiful whisper.
It sounded almost pitiful.
Ying Yuan closed her eyes briefly, steadied her resolve, and continued walking forward without acknowledging her.
Despite her cold demeanor, Yi Shanshan refused to give up, dragging her suitcase along beside her—gurgle, gurgle, gurgle…
They left the smooth asphalt and stepped onto a brick path.
The gurgling turned jarring—clank, clank, clank—staccato and harsh.
Ying Yuan glanced ahead at the approaching steps and finally stopped, her brow furrowed.
“Go home now,” she said to Yi Shanshan. “Aren’t you tired, dragging such a heavy suitcase around?”
“Of course I’m tired,” Yi Shanshan replied, her exhaustion sounding almost defiant. “But if I don’t follow you, you’ll just run away!”
“Where could I possibly run to?” Ying Yuan retorted. “You’ve already found me again.”
Yi Shanshan: “I ran away to a place where you wouldn’t talk to me. If you’d just have a proper conversation with me now, I wouldn’t need to run away, would I?”
Ying Yuan: “……”
Yi Shanshan pouted stubbornly, her gaze unyielding.
Ying Yuan relented. Yi Shanshan was fundamentally different from ordinary classmates—willful, argumentative, and far thicker-skinned.
“Go ahead,” Ying Yuan said, taking a small step back but refusing to retreat past her boundary. “Say it right here.”
“I never intended to say it anywhere else,” Yi Shanshan retorted, tugging her suitcase upright. “What I have to say is serious, honest, and aboveboard.”
The early morning campus air carried a crisp chill. They stood in the middle of the main path, exposed on all sides, with occasional passersby.
You’d better mean it, Ying Yuan thought.
“First, I want to apologize,” Yi Shanshan began her persuasion. “After you expressed your wishes, I reacted too emotionally and said some rash things. Please forgive me and don’t take them to heart—they weren’t what I truly meant.”
“I don’t want you to return anything to me. All those things were gifts I gave willingly. You’ve helped me so much in the past, and I genuinely wanted to repay you and show my gratitude.
“After calming down, I’ve given it a lot of thought. Since you’re so adamantly rejecting this, it must mean I still have much to improve on. Here are some reasons I’ve come up with, in no particular order.”
Yi Shanshan recited these points like she was delivering a memorized script, maintaining her most rational and composed demeanor.
“One, were you upset because you had to wait so long outside the venue the day before yesterday, and couldn’t enter earlier, making you feel like I didn’t care about you?
“Two, were you simply exhausted after a long day and found this situation too burdensome?
“Three, after my performance, I messaged you to come find me, but when you arrived at the dressing room, Zheng Yueling was crying after being scolded by her manager. You might have seen me comforting her and misunderstood that I was looking for someone else, thinking I no longer needed you?
“Four, during dinner with Zheng Yueling that evening, I was busy chatting with her and didn’t talk to you much, making you feel neglected?
“Five, Zheng Yueling repeatedly suggested you become her personal assistant, which you found insulting?”
“Six, last night I wanted to hold you while we slept, and you resisted at first. I thought you were just shy, but you genuinely disliked it, didn’t you? I pressed your arm until it went numb, making you uncomfortable and unable to sleep well all night, right?
“Seven, I invited you to hang out with me and my friends on the spur of the moment. Did you feel this impromptu invite lacked respect? Or do you dislike my friends and not want to be around them?
“Eight, I didn’t consider your other needs and feelings.”
Yi Shanshan rattled off all the points in one breath, her gaze fixed on Ying Yuan like a sharp-eyed panther. “I want your honest answers. If you don’t want to explain your thoughts, just give me the numbers.”
Ying Yuan thought to herself, She’s truly too clever.
All day, Ying Yuan had been tossed about by her own turbulent emotions, often unable to make logical sense of them herself.
Yet Yi Shanshan had managed to do just that.
Yi Shanshan had observed nearly every point of potential discomfort in social situations, putting herself in Ying Yuan’s shoes to decode the emotional mysteries.
As for the first seven points, Ying Yuan had to admit they were all partially true.
But none of these mattered; they dissolved in the joy of being with Yi Shanshan.
The real issue was number eight—the unspeakable eighth.
“Eight,” Ying Yuan stated.
She refused to give Yi Shanshan, who was so earnest, a dishonest answer. She knew falsehood would be futile; any problem Yi Shanshan could articulate, she had already devised a solution for.
So she chose only this one, uttering just the single word. No elaboration, no explanation, countering with silence and coldness.
Yi Shanshan’s gaze flickered, reflecting the dejection of defeat.
Her lashes lowered and lifted again, then she opened her beautiful eyes wide, stubbornly pressing, “So what is it? Just tell me, and I can fix it. Even if you say just two words, I can guess the rest.”
Ying Yuan shook her head.
It was unspeakable, unfixable.
Yi Shanshan’s face once again wore that fragile expression from yesterday—lost, helpless, as if abandoned.
Her voice dropped to a low murmur, “So this is how it has to be? Just like you want it?”
“Mm,” Ying Yuan murmured softly.
Yi Shanshan fell silent, averting her gaze. Her head bowed, she seemed lost in thought.
“Go get some rest. I’m leaving now,” Ying Yuan said, choosing to walk away once more.
In the public eye, Yi Shanshan didn’t try to stop her or make any unusual moves.
Ying Yuan continued toward the cafeteria along her planned route, without looking back.
She ate breakfast slowly, needing time to calm her turbulent emotions.
Her tranquility shattered whenever Yi Shanshan was near, like a pebble tossed into the serene lake of her heart—a light disturbance rippling across the surface, or a heavy blow churning up violent waves.
This is normal at first, Ying Yuan reassured herself. No one can quit something cold turkey, but time erodes everything.
As long as she remained steadfast in her rejection, as long as Yi Shanshan appeared before her less and less often, she could pack up and return all her flustered feelings—the racing heart, the confusion, the disorientation, the fear… every unsettling emotion.
By the time she finished breakfast, Ying Yuan felt considerably calmer.
She left the cafeteria and headed toward the library. On the same red-brick path where they’d met earlier, she saw Yi Shanshan still sitting on her suitcase, arms crossed, gazing up at the sky, lost in thought.
Her dazed wait resembled a softly hued film still, drawing curious glances from passersby, captivated by her beauty. Those gazes lingered long.
Ying Yuan lowered her head, staring at her feet as she hurried past, determined not to say another word to her.
But she was stopped anyway.
“Hey,” Yi Shanshan called out, not using her name, her voice devoid of its earlier emotion. She hopped off her suitcase and walked up to Ying Yuan.
“We’ll do it your way,” Yi Shanshan said. “No more of what we had. I won’t touch you again. All physical contact—gone. We can even erase all our memories. Let’s pretend we never knew each other.”
Ying Yuan looked up in surprise. She hadn’t expected Yi Shanshan to accept this so quickly.
She’d imagined Yi Shanshan would cling desperately, refusing to let go until thoroughly provoked, then banish her to eternal oblivion.
Ying Yuan met Yi Shanshan’s gaze. Yi Shanshan’s eyes were calm, even chillingly malevolent, like when she’d inspected their dorm as a member of the Student Union.
“But you can’t possibly avoid seeing me on campus,” Yi Shanshan said, staring at Ying Yuan with a faint smile. “So let’s reintroduce ourselves. Hello, classmate. I’m Yi Shanshan.”
“This is our first day.”