My Straight Girlfriend with Skin Hunger Syndrome - Chapter 44
Chapter 44
In the silent studio, the warm yellow lights glowed brightly, as if illuminating a world radiating heat.
And indeed, Ying Yuan’s chest felt like it was burning.
A warm, molten fire had taken hold of her heart, its flames spreading through her limbs and bones, crackling and spitting sparks that danced in the air.
Ying Yuan gazed at Yi Shanshan, who appeared like a painting bathed in the warm yellow light.
Their eyes met, and the dazed, disoriented look vanished from Yi Shanshan’s face. Her gaze sharpened, and a smile curled her lips, as if that fleeting moment of genuine vulnerability had been nothing more than a fleeting illusion.
“How was that? Did you enjoy it?” Yi Shanshan asked. “My methods are quite effective, don’t you think?”
Ying Yuan felt parched, her voice slightly hoarse. “Are these ‘methods’?”
“Anything that makes both of us happy is a harmless and good method, even if it’s a trick,” Yi Shanshan said, clearing her throat as she picked up the script. “Alright, you should be familiar with the operation by now. Let’s officially start.”
The fire in Ying Yuan’s chest felt trapped, with no way out.
She wanted to ask Yi Shanshan more questions, or just chat about anything else. She felt that if they talked longer, she might understand Yi Shanshan better, and perhaps unearth a treasure trove of gold hidden within the flames.
But Yi Shanshan cut the moment short, citing work as her reason.
Forced to suppress the fire, Ying Yuan could only manage a curt, “Okay.”
She obediently backed away, but Yi Shanshan immediately began teasing her again, beaming with self-satisfaction. “I’ve already demonstrated, you know! After I practice my lines, you have to praise me just like you did before.”
Ying Yuan: “…I’ll do my best.”
Yi Shanshan brightened, finally ready to start working.
The game had three main characters, and Yi Shanshan tried out countless voice pitches, each time pausing afterward to stare intently at Ying Yuan with wide, expectant eyes, waiting for her praise.
Ying Yuan had initially thought this would be difficult. After all, as an engineering student, she lacked the keen artistic sensibilities and descriptive skills of art students. But when she actually started, she found it surprisingly easy.
Because Yi Shanshan was truly exceptional.
Every voice she attempted was remarkable, not only for its pleasing timbre but also for its impressive acting ability. She effortlessly shifted between personalities and emotions, constantly creating delightful surprises—a testament to her innate talent.
“Crisp, clean, and fresh, like the first spring bamboo shoot piercing through the earth after the rain.”
“Smooth, calm, with a metallic edge—perfect for a cyborg character.”
“Hmm, raising the pitch makes her even cuter—adorable yet haughty, like a beloved little sister you grew up with.”
“Like… silk, the kind that binds. Softness and restraint intertwined, very… alluring.”
As Ying Yuan listened, she praised sincerely, her words genuine.
She had read the game’s script countless times, even memorizing key plot points verbatim. Yet before this moment, the story had existed only as words in her mind.
Now, the words transformed into sound, and the vivid imagery carried by that sound crashed over her like a wave. Ying Yuan seemed to see those vibrant characters, truly alive in the future’s desolate ruins, struggling to survive and desperately pursuing their dreams.
Her thoughts surged, the stifled fire in her chest shifting direction, still burning fiercely, filling her with joy and excitement.
“Ying Yuan, do you know what? You’re so much like Nemo,” Yi Shanshan said with a smile after finishing a line of dialogue.
“Hmm, everyone says I resemble her. But I think Team Leader is more like her.”
“Team Leader isn’t nearly as cute,” Yi Shanshan retorted, unconvinced. “Our Nemo’s ditziness has a certain charm.”
Ying Yuan: “Oh, I see.”
Yi Shanshan stretched languidly, drawing out her words: “I love Miss Nemo the most—”
Ying Yuan’s ears felt warm, likely from the prolonged pressure of her headphones.
If she were to truly connect the preceding and following sentences, immerse herself in the character, and accept someone else’s affection, that would be rather arrogant.
“Mm-hmm,” Ying Yuan murmured vaguely. “Nemo is indeed very cute.”
“What about you?” Yi Shanshan asked. “Which character do you like best?”
Ying Yuan pondered. The question was difficult for her. She felt that all three protagonists had been shaped into compelling characters through the collective efforts of the Project Team.
Yi Shanshan, once again piercing her thoughts, added, “Don’t always think from the creator’s perspective. Outsiders see things clearly. Try thinking purely as a player—trust your gut. Which one resonates with you more?”
“Stella.”
This time, Ying Yuan didn’t hesitate.
“Oh…” Yi Shanshan mimicked Ying Yuan’s earlier tone. “So that’s how it is.”
Her voice suddenly shifted, adopting the charming, praised tone she had practiced earlier as she recited Stella’s lines to Nemo.
“So, Miss Nemo, do you want to be my commander… or my slave?”
Ying Yuan: “!!!”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. Yi Shanshan’s voice, whispering close to her ear, was eerily perfect, too specific. It wasn’t just the magic of the voice anymore; Yi Shanshan’s face seemed to merge with Stella’s beautiful character portrait.
Yi Shanshan: “Launch, Nemo! Or get off me and let me do it myself.”
Ying Yuan: “……”
Her ears began to burn again, this time she couldn’t blame it on the headphones. She was shamelessly projecting herself into the role.
Yi Shanshan: “Sharing a room with you, Nemo… it’s not so bad after all~”
Ying Yuan: “…………”
Why is the scene starting to overlap too? We’re literally in a room together right now. And we only have each other.
Yi Shanshan: “Open your mouth, Nemo. Try these scrap muffins I made. Ah, you bit my finger! Are you a puppy?”
Ying Yuan’s blush had spread from her ears to her cheeks, burning as if she’d been freshly seared on a griddle. The humiliation of being caught red-handed biting Yi Shanshan’s finger and scolded like a puppy was about to make her explode.
Yi Shanshan gazed at her silently.
Despite the distance, despite the glass wall separating them, Ying Yuan felt as if Yi Shanshan were standing right in front of her, close enough that a blink of her lashes could graze her skin.
Paralyzed with embarrassment, Ying Yuan could only lower her gaze, her fingers curling helplessly on the console.
“Enjoying yourself, Ying Yuan?” Yi Shanshan asked, her voice returning to its normal tone, flat and direct.
How could Ying Yuan possibly answer such a question? It was no different from running naked down the street.
“From a player’s perspective, Ying Yuan,” Yi Shanshan pressed on, like a fox skilled in enchantment, using the most logical, irresistible argument to get the answer she wanted. “Would players who love Stella appreciate this voice?”
Ying Yuan’s fingers could only reach for the microphone switch. She pressed it, her face burning, and mumbled, “No problem. They’ll like it.”
Yi Shanshan’s fox-like eyes curved into a sly smile. “Compared to your earlier praise, this sounds awfully forced. If my voice acting is really bad, just tell me. I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself by putting something like that out there…”
Backed into a corner, Ying Yuan could only mutter, “It’s… great.”
Yi Shanshan paused, all her persuasion tactics instantly abandoned. Her lips curved higher and higher, her eyes sparkling with joy. That single word had more impact than all her previous lengthy descriptions.
“Looks like our programmer is quite satisfied,” Yi Shanshan concluded triumphantly.
Flipping through her script, she added, “Since it’s working so well, let’s record some more.”
The happier Yi Shanshan became, the more Ying Yuan felt utterly mortified. Yet she couldn’t halt the project’s progress, so she reluctantly agreed.
“Mhm.”
The sound squeezed out from her throat, short and hoarse.
Fortunately, Yi Shanshan slipped into full professional mode.
Following the script, she voiced each line of the character’s dialogue. When things went smoothly, she nailed a line in one take. When things were difficult, she had to record a single line countless times.
Ying Yuan stayed by Yi Shanshan’s side, accompanying her as she repeatedly refined her performance.
Most of the time, Yi Shanshan maintained a calm, focused demeanor. But whenever she recited Stella’s lines to Nemo, Ying Yuan’s heart would involuntarily race, her ears, hidden beneath her headphones, secretly flushed crimson countless times.
The hour and a half passed quickly.
Before coming, Ying Yuan had set an alarm on her phone, fearing they would once again be delayed in returning to the dormitory.
When the alarm blared in the confined space, it was jarring. Yi Shanshan was still agonizing over the pronunciation of an interjection. Her brow furrowed slightly, her lips moved silently, and her fingers gestured incessantly by her side. Ying Yuan couldn’t bear to interrupt her earnest concentration.
But they couldn’t possibly spend the night in the recording studio.
Perhaps Yi Shanshan could, but Ying Yuan couldn’t.
Ying Yuan activated her microphone. “Shanshan, it’s time.”
Yi Shanshan looked up, her expression slightly dazed.
“It’s 10:30,” Ying Yuan said. “We need to head back.”
“Oh,” Yi Shanshan replied, her frown deepening. “Just this last bit…”
“We can record again next time,” Ying Yuan offered, finding plenty of reasonable excuses. “You haven’t rested all day and must be exhausted. This was just a preliminary test anyway. Whether we can actually use it depends on the Team Leader’s decision.”
Yi Shanshan stared at Ying Yuan, silent and motionless, lost in thought.
After a few seconds, she nodded understandingly. “Alright, let’s head back.”
With their agreement settled, they quickly packed up.
Yi Shanshan exported the night’s footage and slung her bag over her shoulder. Ying Yuan followed behind her, switching lights on and off as they walked until she locked the studio door.
“We need to edit the footage before giving it to the Team Leader,” Yi Shanshan said, stretching her neck from side to side with a sigh. “Otherwise, she’ll never waste her time listening through the whole thing.” She exhaled heavily. “Ugh—I only enjoy being in front of the camera, not dealing with the behind-the-scenes stuff. One hour of recording means a week of editing.”
Ying Yuan knew Yi Shanshan’s neck must be stiff and her voice hoarse, no longer as crisp as it had been earlier.
She was exhausted, all for something that hadn’t even been necessary.
“I’ll do it,” Ying Yuan offered. “I’ll handle the editing.”
“Huh?” Yi Shanshan turned to look at her, surprised. “You know how? You’ll need to use AU.”
“I’ve tried it before,” Ying Yuan said. “It’s not too hard. I’ll learn what I don’t know.”
Yi Shanshan burst into laughter, immediately pulling a USB drive from her bag and pressing it into Ying Yuan’s palm. “I almost forgot our Nemo is a tech wizard! You’re the perfect person for this!”
Hearing her game character’s name so suddenly, Ying Yuan’s cheeks flushed.
She glanced down at the drive Yi Shanshan had given her. It looked familiar—it was the same red USB drive they’d found and returned earlier.
“An old friend,” Yi Shanshan remarked.
Ying Yuan’s mind drifted, feeling as if fate were a ball constantly rolling forward yet looping back on itself. At some unknowable moment, memories intersected in completely different settings.
Back then, she had abruptly cut ties with Yi Shanshan, avoiding her at all costs. She had seen Yi Shanshan’s every action as suspicious, every word as laden with hidden meaning.
Now, she and Yi Shanshan were working on the same project, striving toward a shared goal. They had become work partners, secret allies, and, most importantly, genuine friends. They understood each other deeply and supported each other’s growth.
Yi Shanshan’s behavior would never be unconventional again. Every word she spoke was now forthright and transparent.
She treated her friends with such warmth and intimacy—a spirited, clever, and earnest young woman.
If Ying Yuan still harbored any strange feelings, the fault lay entirely with Ying Yuan herself.
It was Ying Yuan’s secret crush, her inner struggle against her own instincts.
“Don’t worry,” Ying Yuan said, gripping the USB drive tightly. “You can count on me.”
“Thank you~~~” Yi Shanshan drawled, her voice melodious and her smile bright and endearing.
As they stepped out of the mall’s covered area, the cold outdoor wind hit them, and they realized it was raining.
The May rain fell in a gentle drizzle, the droplets gleaming like silver threads under the streetlights.
Ying Yuan glanced at Yi Shanshan. The wind whipped through Yi Shanshan’s long hair, her skirt fluttering wildly, and her slender, pale limbs, exposed to the elements, quickly became damp.
Ying Yuan stepped forward, blocking the wind.
“Cold?” she asked Yi Shanshan again.
This time, Yi Shanshan didn’t try to be tough. She hugged her arms and shivered. “Ugh… who could have guessed it would rain? The rain is a bit… ugh.”
When Yi Shanshan looked up at Ying Yuan, Ying Yuan thought her face had paled even more, making her look like a fragile porcelain doll.
Ying Yuan took off her jacket—just a thin cardigan, but at least it had long sleeves.
Yi Shanshan stared at her, seemingly lost in thought, making no move to take it.
Ying Yuan simply unfolded the cardigan and draped it over her shoulders. The cardigan had a hood, which Ying Yuan pulled up over Yi Shanshan’s head, offering some protection from the rain.
“Let’s call a taxi,” Ying Yuan said, pulling out her phone.
The porcelain doll stirred. Her lips parted slightly as she asked, “Why call a taxi for such a short distance?”
“It’s raining,” Ying Yuan replied.
“Raining this late at night? We’ll never get a taxi,” Yi Shanshan retorted.
Ying Yuan: “……”
Yi Shanshan: “If we wait any longer, the dorms will be locked!”
Yi Shanshan: “This is just a drizzle! Two strong college students like us don’t need a taxi.”
Yi Shanshan: “Don’t you think this setting is perfect for doing something…?”
Ying Yuan saw a gleam of excitement rising in Yi Shanshan’s eyes.
Her eyes sparkled, her lips curled upward, her face brimming with anticipation—like a puppy who had spotted its absolute favorite treat.
“W-what…?” Ying Yuan asked cautiously.
Yi Shanshan suddenly sprang forward and linked her arm through Ying Yuan’s. Their bare arms, clad only in short sleeves, pressed together—icy cold, like sliding across smooth silk.
With her other hand, Yi Shanshan lifted the cardigan draped over her and called out to Ying Yuan, “Lift the other side too! This is how they always run in the rain in idol dramas! So—ro—man—tic!”