My Straight Girlfriend with Skin Hunger Syndrome - Chapter 41

Chapter 41

How could anyone refuse this?

It was utterly impossible.

It was like a darling little kitten or puppy, gazing up at you with wide, watery eyes, purring and pleading for a gentle touch.

No human could resist.

Especially since Yi Shanshan wasn’t even asking for a touch. She simply wanted Ying Yuan to explain a problem—something Ying Yuan had mastered long ago, something as effortless as breathing.

“Okay,” Ying Yuan whispered back, keeping her voice low, maintaining the intimate exchange.

Yi Shanshan’s eyes lit up like lightbulbs, all her pain and sorrow vanishing, replaced by radiant joy that shone upon Ying Yuan like the brilliant sun.

This brought immense psychological satisfaction. It made you feel truly useful, powerful, and magnificent.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you~” Yi Shanshan chirped repeatedly, curling up, tucking her legs to create some distance between them, and pointing to her phone.

“Mm-hmm,” Ying Yuan understood.

Yi Shanshan cheerfully hopped off, her legs tucked beneath her. Only then did Ying Yuan notice that she had already arranged her own workspace.

A small table in the middle of the Activity Room was covered with colorful trinkets. Even the laptop’s shell was bright pink.

She settled back into her seat, pretending nothing had happened, and continued staring at the files on her computer screen with a frown, looking like a diligent little hamster with its cheeks stuffed full.

Ying Yuan turned back to her work, her computer screen reflecting her face. The cheap smile plastered across her face struck her heart like a tiny bolt of lightning.

Concentrate, Ying Yuan muttered to herself, warning herself to banish distractions and focus on her work.

Before long, it was lunchtime.

Most of the Project Team members in the Activity Room headed back to their dorms for a break. Ying Yuan usually stayed behind, so Qi Hongyue approached her as usual, asking, “What are you eating?”

Just as Ying Yuan was about to answer, her phone, lying face down on the desk, buzzed twice to indicate a new message.

Ying Yuan’s mouth froze mid-sentence. She instinctively glanced toward Yi Shanshan, but Qi Hongyue’s position blocked her view. Not only did she fail to see Yi Shanshan, but she also caught Qi Hongyue’s stern gaze.

Ying Yuan: “……”

Qi Hongyue: “……”

Ying Yuan: “I… I can grab something myself, thanks, Senior.”

Qi Hongyue: “……”

Without another word, Qi Hongyue turned and walked away.

Ying Yuan waited until Yi Shanshan had left the Activity Room before checking her phone.

Sure enough, a new message from Yi Shanshan asked if they could discuss things during the lunch break.

This time was perfect, as it wouldn’t interfere with anyone’s work.

Ying Yuan replied with a quick “Okay.” The very next second, she heard a loud clatter from Yi Shanshan’s end—she had already sprung to her feet, bag in hand.

“Ying Yuan!” Yi Shanshan called out loudly. “Let’s go grab lunch together!”

Ying Yuan froze, startled by the sudden, thunderous shout. Several members who hadn’t left the room yet turned to look, their gazes filled with surprise and… an inexplicable envy.

Snapping out of her daze, Ying Yuan realized Yi Shanshan was giving them a legitimate excuse—they were going for lunch, not sneaking in extra tutoring.

How adorable, Ying Yuan thought, suppressing a smile. She quickly gathered her files and shut down her computer.

Yi Shanshan had already bounded over and was waiting impatiently.

“Let’s go,” Ying Yuan said, turning to her. Yi Shanshan grinned widely, her lips curving into a broad smile. As they walked out together, the colorful trinkets dangling from Yi Shanshan’s backpack swayed rhythmically, making Ying Yuan feel like she was sinking into Yi Shanshan’s vibrant, kaleidoscopic sea.

The two left the old building and stepped into the midday sun, joining the flow of people.

Yi Shanshan’s steps were light and nimble as she circled Ying Yuan like a lively young deer.

“I feel okay when we’re talking about this stuff together. But every time I see the materials Qi Hongyue sends me, my head spins. God, it’s just a game! Why is everything in text? Huge paragraphs, one after another. I’m starting to think I have a reading disability!”

Ying Yuan replied, “Senior Qi believes textual explanations are more concise.”

Yi Shanshan exclaimed, “That’s completely backward! Images and videos convey way more information!”

Ying Yuan countered, “Exactly! That’s why text is more concise, making it easier to focus on the key points.”

Yi Shanshan paused. “…Hmm, I guess that makes sense.”

Leaning closer to Ying Yuan, Yi Shanshan tilted her head and deliberately observed her expression. “Do you think everything Qi Hongyue says is perfectly reasonable and correct?”

Ying Yuan responded, “Senior Qi is really impressive.”

Yi Shanshan retorted, “And I’m not?”

The sudden shift in conversation felt bizarre—there was no need for comparison here. Ying Yuan turned her head slightly, avoiding Yi Shanshan’s gaze, and replied simply, “Yeah, you’re impressive too.”

“Ah, how insincere,” Yi Shanshan muttered, frowning. “I need to adapt to your style and catch up with your progress quickly.”

Ying Yuan actually wanted to tell her, You don’t need to keep up with all of us. After all, you’re handling the music. You don’t even need to delve into the technical details—just grab the script and start working. There won’t be any major issues.

But Ying Yuan remembered their earlier conversations about the game. Yi Shanshan had even been willing to learn programming and had gone to great lengths to join the Project Team.

Given this level of dedication, Ying Yuan could no longer dismiss it as purely personal ambition.

She gazed at Yi Shanshan without speaking.

As if reading her mind, Yi Shanshan suddenly said, “You were surprised to see me in your Activity Room today, weren’t you?”

Finally, the topic they’d been avoiding had surfaced. Ying Yuan nodded.

“Don’t be afraid, Little Yuan,” Yi Shanshan said, turning around and walking backward in front of Ying Yuan, her hands clasped behind her back. “Relax. My motives have long since changed.”

With a gentle smile, Yi Shanshan began to explain herself like the most understanding friend:

“At first, I was a bit resentful. I kept wondering, What’s so special about this project that you’re always working day and night, even arguing with me over it? So I decided to see for myself.

“During the interview, I was a bit angry, since you kept rejecting me. But after you said those words, I wasn’t angry anymore.

“You know what happened after that better than anyone. Through our interactions, I’ve developed new interests—interests that truly challenge me.”

Yi Shanshan fixed her gaze on Ying Yuan, her expression radiating sincerity. This left Ying Yuan with only one plausible conclusion: Yi Shanshan had joined the Project Team, just like her, to realize a shared ideal: to create an outstanding game.

This must have been incredibly difficult for Yi Shanshan.

Ying Yuan nodded. “Thank you for your hard work.”

“It’s no hardship at all,” Yi Shanshan replied, still meeting Ying Yuan’s gaze with unwavering honesty. Her lips curved into a slow smile as she murmured, “This was all… meant to be, wasn’t it?”

For a fleeting moment, Ying Yuan felt as though she had glimpsed that reddish-brown fox again. But the thought vanished instantly as a child on roller skates suddenly emerged from a side path behind Yi Shanshan. The child, playing with abandon, was skating at high speed, hurtling straight toward them.

Yi Shanshan had no eyes in the back of her head, but Ying Yuan saw everything.

Without a second thought, she reached out and grabbed Yi Shanshan’s arm, yanking her into her embrace.

Holding her tightly, Ying Yuan dodged sideways, dragging Yi Shanshan with her.

The child whizzed past, nearly brushing their clothes, turning back to grin and let out a sharp whistle.

Even Ying Yuan, usually so composed, wanted to curse.

She looked down at Yi Shanshan, wanting to ask, “Are you okay?”

But as her gaze fell, she realized Yi Shanshan was in her arms.

Yi Shanshan was in her arms.

Not because Yi Shanshan had asked, but because Ying Yuan had pulled her in of her own accord.

Yi Shanshan’s arms were pressed against Ying Yuan’s chest, her disheveled hair sprawled across Ying Yuan’s chest.

Yi Shanshan’s expression was panicked, while the arm Ying Yuan had wrapped around her held her in a death grip, the muscles in her forearm tensed and clearly defined.

A surge of heat and electricity flooded Ying Yuan’s heart simultaneously.

That familiar softness and scent crashed back like a vivid dream, making her head spin and her breath catch in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” Ying Yuan said almost instinctively, pushing Yi Shanshan away immediately.

Yi Shanshan stumbled, her legs unsteady, but managed to regain her balance.

“What was that for…?” Yi Shanshan’s expression was dazed.

Ying Yuan’s face flushed crimson. “Someone… was rushing past,” she stammered.

“So you pulled me into your arms?” Yi Shanshan gazed at Ying Yuan, her brow furrowing in earnest contemplation. “Does this count as breaking our agreement… no… physical… contact…?”

She enunciated each word carefully, emphasizing the last few syllables.

Then, tilting her head back, she waited innocently for Ying Yuan’s answer.

Ying Yuan: “……”

How could she possibly answer that?

The heat in Ying Yuan’s cheeks intensified. She could only stammer:

“This was… an accident. Normal… physical collisions don’t count as that kind of contact…”

“Oh—so that’s how it is,” Yi Shanshan drawled, raising her hands and looking from side to side. “So normal physical contact between friends is okay? I don’t have to be so careful all the time, terrified of accidentally touching you, right?”

Ying Yuan opened her mouth, but no rebuttal came.

She was the one who had been acting abnormally all along. Yi Shanshan had already made a huge concession by no longer demanding those excessively intimate hugs.

If even the most ordinary physical contact in daily life were forbidden, it would be like waving a flag and shouting, “I’m hiding something!”

Ying Yuan lowered her gaze and nodded slightly.

The confusion on Yi Shanshan’s face vanished, replaced by a radiant smile that blossomed like sunshine after a rainstorm.

“Great! Our agreement is still intact. You reacted so quickly just now—if it weren’t for you, I would have definitely fallen and gotten hurt. You saved my life, you know!”

Yi Shanshan’s candid demeanor caused Ying Yuan’s strange heat to subside, gradually transforming into normal embarrassment. “It wasn’t that dramatic…”

“It was that dramatic!” Yi Shanshan insisted. She sidled closer to Ying Yuan, falling into step beside her. “From today onward, you’re my lifesaver! Lunch is on me—it’s the least I can do. Don’t even try to argue!”

As they spoke, Yi Shanshan had already pulled out her phone.

Before Ying Yuan could ask what she wanted for lunch, Yi Shanshan had already made the call.

It rang only once before being answered.

“Hey, Feng’er, get two lunches ready for me. Guangxing’s place—it’s perfect for this weather,” Yi Shanshan ordered briskly. “Deliver them to…”

She paused, turning to Ying Yuan. “Where should we eat?”

Forced to quickly shift back to her earlier train of thought, Ying Yuan murmured, “Didn’t you say we should find somewhere deserted…?”

“Oh, right! We can’t be seen,” Yi Shanshan nodded, then continued into the phone, “Deliver them to Green Lake Park—the pavilion by the lake, the one with ‘Clear Breeze, Bright Moon’ written on it.”

With that, she hung up.

“Is this… a food delivery service?” Ying Yuan asked.

Yi Shanshan smiled. “He’s a friend.”

Ying Yuan froze. Seeing her expression, Yi Shanshan added, “We’ve known each other for ages. This is just how we talk.”

“Oh,” Ying Yuan replied blankly.

Their destination immediately shifted to Green Lake Park.

Green Lake Park was a beautiful place, with a lake, flowering trees, and sprawling grassy slopes.

At this time of year, the cherry blossoms and crabapple trees were nearing the end of their bloom. A thick layer of petals lay scattered on the ground, crunching softly underfoot.

Yi Shanshan didn’t stop at the “Clear Breeze, Bright Moon” Pavilion.

Leading Ying Yuan deeper into the park, she passed through a cherry blossom grove and arrived at a secluded grassy slope.

Surrounded by trees on all sides, the area formed a cozy, enclosed space.

A long bench lay horizontally at the edge of the slope. Yi Shanshan ran over, kicked her legs up, and claimed the entire bench.

She propped her calves on the armrests, stretched out horizontally, and let her head dangle backward, nearly touching the ground.

Her long, curly hair cascaded downward like a dark, flowing waterfall, pooling onto the grass.

Ying Yuan walked up to her. Yi Shanshan gazed up at her upside down, grinning triumphantly. “Isn’t this spot perfect? Ideal for a picnic… and, uh… also for my savior to give me a lesson.”

“It’s a lovely place,” Ying Yuan couldn’t help but say. “But isn’t that position uncomfortable?”

“It gets uncomfortable after a while, but seeing the world like this is so much fun!” Yi Shanshan, like a mischievous child, was reluctant to give up her unusual perspective. “The ground is above me, the sky is below. Ying Yuan, your legs are so long!”

Ying Yuan instinctively tried to back away, but Yi Shanshan suddenly grabbed her pant leg. “Ying Yuan, could you support my head for a bit?”

Ying Yuan froze.

“Please~ Just for a little bit~” Yi Shanshan immediately resorted to pleading when she didn’t get her way, waving her hand. “This is perfectly normal contact, right? If you support my head, my neck will be more comfortable, and I can keep looking longer.”

It was indeed nothing beyond the boundaries of friendship.

Ying Yuan remembered the serious Yi Shanshan from the meeting, and the Yi Shanshan who had spent the entire morning frowning in front of her pink laptop… Yi Shanshan had been working so hard; it was fine for her to indulge in a little fun now.

Ying Yuan crouched down, shifting her weight from side to side to find a stable and comfortable position.

Yi Shanshan’s eyes followed her every move, rolling like a cat tracking its prey.

Finally, Ying Yuan found her spot. She knelt on one knee beside Yi Shanshan, then carefully cupped her hands beneath Yi Shanshan’s head.

A waterfall of long hair cascaded through her fingers, Yi Shanshan’s head heavy as a precious, ripe fruit cradled in her hands.

She surrendered all her weight to Ying Yuan’s care, their bright, beautiful eyes locked on each other’s faces in this inverted world.

“Ying Yuan, has anyone ever told you how stunningly beautiful you are?” Yi Shanshan’s voice was soft and gentle, like a breeze brushing her cheek. “Even from this angle… you’re still stunning.”

“Your nose is sharp and regal, like a delicate mountain. The downward curve of your eyes used to make you look like a sweet puppy, but now they resemble a crescent moon, curving with laughter…

“Your jawline is so defined, its clean lines stretching down to your neck, sharp and elegant. Like a slender blade of grass, standing tall in the spring morning, glistening with dew.

“And your lips…”

Yi Shanshan paused, completely absorbed by the person before her in this upside-down world, no longer caring about the scenery.

“Ying Yuan, your lips are so thin,” Yi Shanshan murmured. “When you press them together, they look like the surface of a lake barely frozen over in winter…

“They must feel so cold…”