My Straight Girlfriend with Skin Hunger Syndrome - Chapter 70

Chapter 70

Yi Shanshan’s face, freshly washed and free of makeup, glowed with a rosy, delicate blush.

Under the close scrutiny of the lamplight, one could discern a faint, peach-like fuzz on her cheeks, radiating a soft, sweet fragrance like a perfectly ripe peach.

Anyone would want to kiss those adorable cheeks.

Just as anyone would want to kiss a kitten’s head.

But Ying Yuan couldn’t. She felt like an ant on a hot pan, engulfed by suffocating heat and burning with restlessness.

Mao Mao and Xiaohan continued their playful shrieks, while Yi Shanshan had already closed her eyes.

Suddenly, Ying Yuan stood up and took a large step back.

Yi Shanshan, who had been leaning against her, lurched forward and collapsed onto the sofa.

“You really can’t keep playing like this,” Ying Yuan said stiffly. “We’re here to study.”

Mao Mao and Xiaohan fell silent, startled by the sudden change.

Yi Shanshan’s upper body lay sprawled on the sofa, her legs propped up on the armrest, one foot dangling. The cap covering her hair had slipped off, releasing damp strands that cascaded down like the tresses of a mermaid fresh from the sea.

Yi Shanshan didn’t speak, a faint smile still lingering on her face, but her expression remained unchanged.

The atmosphere suddenly turned awkward. Xiaohan, looking left and right to defuse the tension, said, “Ying Yuan is just so easily embarrassed. You know, she’s an introvert—she’s never seen anything like this before.”

Mao Mao chimed in, “Yeah, yeah, look at her face—she’s overheating! No more teasing, no more teasing.”

Xiaohan: “Ah… it’s already past midnight. If we don’t start studying soon, it’ll be dawn before we know it.”

Mao Mao tugged at her sleeve. “Waaah, happiness always ends so quickly! Time to suffer again.”

The two finally went to retrieve their discarded books. Yi Shanshan sat up from the sofa and said, “Go study in the study. There’s an eye-friendly desk lamp and comfortable chairs in there.”

Mao Mao and Xiaohan: “Okay, okay.”

“The room’s right there,” Yi Shanshan pointed. “It’s soundproofed, so it’ll be nice and quiet once you close the door.”

Mao Mao and Xiaohan: “Wow!”

Clutching their books, they thanked Yi Shanshan and obediently entered the study.

As soon as the study door closed, the room truly became silent. Ying Yuan felt she should say something, but she didn’t know what to say.

The air seemed to hang motionless around her, yet she could still feel the warmth lingering.

Ying Yuan needed some time alone to calm down. “I’m going to the restroom,” she said.

Yi Shanshan remained seated on the sofa, fixing her hair. She threaded her fingers through her strands, gently shaking them loose.

Without looking at Ying Yuan, she simply murmured, “Mm-hmm.”

Ying Yuan turned and hurried away.

Yi Shanshan’s movements stilled, and she slumped back into the sofa, staring blankly.

Ying Yuan entered the restroom and closed the door behind her.

Though she had no pressing tasks, she couldn’t bring herself to simply idle. She turned on the faucet and began washing her hands.

The cool water sliding over her fingertips chased away the stifling heat. On impulse, she splashed handful after handful onto her face. The icy, flowing stimulation finally cracked open a fissure in the stifling atmosphere that had enveloped her.

She could breathe again.

Ying Yuan gasped for air, her hands bracing against the sink’s edge for a long moment.

Only when her breathing had evened out and her heart rate had slowed did she lift her gaze.

In the bright mirror, every nuance of her expression was laid bare.

Water dripped from her face, and even the strands of hair framing her forehead were completely soaked, hanging in wet tendrils like rain-soaked tendrils.

Her usually listless eyes now shimmered with a watery sheen, her lashes fluttering mistily as if she were lost in a daze-inducing dream.

Her face, her right cheek.

The cheek Yi Shanshan had kissed.

It looked perfectly normal, yet she could distinctly feel that small patch of skin radiating an odd warmth.

Yi Shanshan’s kiss had been fleeting, a mere moment.

But the memory overflowed with vivid details.

Her lips had been so soft, like a smooth, yielding jelly against her skin.

She had kissed her with a gentle force, her lips pressing together, warm, moist air escaping from between them like the humid breath of a lush rainforest.

Scent and heat surged forth in that instant. Ying Yuan was already familiar with Yi Shanshan’s natural fragrance, but the scent between her lips was different—more concentrated, hotter, more intoxicating, like mulled wine spiced with winter fruits, both mouthwatering and captivating.

Without realizing it, Ying Yuan’s fingers drifted toward that patch of skin.

They didn’t quite touch it, hovering instead in the empty air, moving lightly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the callus on her middle finger—a small, hardened patch worn smooth by years of holding a pen. When she rubbed it with her thumb, it felt rough yet strangely comforting.

Yi Shanshan had once said it felt nice to touch.

What’s so nice about it?

The real pleasure lay in Yi Shanshan’s kisses… A sudden flash of insight struck Ying Yuan. When I recall Shanshan’s kisses, is she also remembering… the way she touched my fingers…?

Ying Yuan’s face flushed crimson, her freshly washed complexion rendered futile.

This fleeting moment of mental disorientation reignited the heat that had been simmering within her.

In that heat, she saw her own dazed eyes, smelled the intense fragrance lingering between Yi Shanshan’s lips and teeth…

Oh, no, this isn’t just my imagination.

The bathroom, connected to the sink area, had its glass door ajar, the air still thick with damp steam.

Yi Shanshan had taken a shower here not long ago. Perhaps when she removed her clothes, her body had carried this vibrant scent.

Ying Yuan lowered her gaze, gasping for breath. Her eyes widened, shocked by her own shamelessness.

A knock echoed at the bathroom door. Ying Yuan’s heart trembled as she looked up.

Yi Shanshan’s voice called out, “Ying Yuan, how much longer? I need to grab the hairdryer.”

“I’m done,” Ying Yuan said immediately.

She pulled out a towel to dry her face and hands, then opened the door.

Yi Shanshan didn’t wait for her to step out; she squeezed past her into the room.

“Ugh, my hair’s still wet! It’s such a pain to blow-dry it,” Yi Shanshan grumbled, rummaging through a drawer, her face scrunched up in annoyance. “I wanted to read for a while, but I’ll be too tired after blow-drying this stupid hair. Ah… why can’t people just take their heads off and let someone else wash them?”

Ying Yuan froze at the doorway, turning back to look at Yi Shanshan’s hair.

Stupid hair? It was anything but. Her long, wavy brown hair, meticulously styled by a hairdresser, cascaded down Yi Shanshan’s back—soft, thick, and even damp, its unique beauty remained undiminished.

Still, it was true that Yi Shanshan’s hair was unusually thick and voluminous, making it tiring to blow-dry.

“I’ll help you blow-dry it,” Ying Yuan blurted out before she could stop herself—or rather, before she could stop her heart.

Whenever she saw Yi Shanshan, she wanted to care for her, help her, solve her problems, and make her happy and secure…

“Really?!” Yi Shanshan whirled around, her eyes sparkling with surprise.

How could Ying Yuan possibly deny it? How could she leave Yi Shanshan any room for regret? No matter how pure or sordid her thoughts churned within her, in Yi Shanshan’s presence, she could only devote herself wholeheartedly to serving her.

“Mm,” Ying Yuan replied, afraid to meet Yi Shanshan’s sincere gaze again.

She took the hair dryer from Yi Shanshan and asked, “Where?”

“Right here is fine, convenient,” Yi Shanshan said, reaching out to close the bathroom door again. “It won’t disturb Mao Mao and Xiaohan either.”

That makes perfect sense, Ying Yuan thought. Where else would I blow my hair dry?

In this space already saturated with Yi Shanshan’s scent, sharing the air with Yi Shanshan herself, there was no room left for anything else.

Ying Yuan’s throat tightened as she desperately tried to banish the chaotic thoughts swirling within her.

She managed to squeeze out a dry, hoarse, “Then…”

But Yi Shanshan had already plugged in the hair dryer and was standing properly in front of the vanity.

Gazing at their reflections in the mirror, Yi Shanshan said with satisfaction, “Just like this. You’re a bit taller than me, so standing up while you dry my hair will be perfect.”

Ying Yuan: “……”

Ying Yuan couldn’t bear to look at their reflections, just as she couldn’t face the version of herself who had fantasized about all of this moments ago.

Lowering her gaze, Ying Yuan silently switched on the hair dryer.

Yi Shanshan’s hair dryer was remarkably quiet.

Warm air streamed from the cylindrical barrel, settling on her hair and lifting the short, newly-grown strands at her hairline.

Ying Yuan’s other hand gently brushed through the strands.

Yi Shanshan watched the tranquil figure reflected in the mirror, her gaze unwavering.

Even something as simple as blow-drying her hair, Ying Yuan did with such intense focus and unwavering seriousness.

As if in that moment, nothing existed in the world but her hair and the phenomenon of moisture evaporating, nothing else mattered.

“Ying Yuan…” Yi Shanshan couldn’t help but call her name.

“Hmm?” Ying Yuan responded, her gaze still fixed on the hair, without so much as a glance at her.

Yi Shanshan pouted. “Were you angry just now?”

“Hmm? What?” Ying Yuan didn’t immediately register the question. Her gaze finally lifted for a fleeting moment, meeting Yi Shanshan’s eyes in the mirror.

“You know… when I kissed you earlier…” Yi Shanshan said, her voice flickering in and out amidst the hair dryer’s hum, “were you a little mad?”

“I wasn’t,” Ying Yuan replied quickly, her heart pounding, her hand trembling slightly as she continued to brush through the hair.

Yi Shanshan stared intently at the mirror, scrutinizing every nuance of her expression. “Then why did you suddenly stop playing?”

Ying Yuan gently brushed a strand of hair to the other side. “I… I need to remind you all to study.”

“That’s not it,” Yi Shanshan said, her voice suddenly firm. “You just don’t want to kiss me back.”

Ying Yuan’s fingers froze.

Yi Shanshan’s brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with a kiss on the cheek? I kissed you, but you won’t kiss me back. Do you hate me?”

Ying Yuan had no choice but to look up.

In the mirror, Yi Shanshan’s skin glowed like polished jade, luminous and radiant. Her eyes drooped at the corners, filled with disappointment and resentment, as if she had suffered some great injustice.

“Even in foreign countries, kissing is a standard greeting, like shaking hands. If you refuse even that, it means you hate the person,” Yi Shanshan said, meeting her eyes. “Besides, I only kissed you because you said you didn’t mind people shipping us. We’re promoting a CP, for crying out loud! What’s a little cheek kiss?”

Ying Yuan: “……”

Had popular culture really gone this far? she wondered.

Yi Shanshan suddenly turned around. They were standing so close that her shoulder brushed against Ying Yuan’s chest.

Coupled with the shocking words she’d just spoken, it felt like a small fist had punched Ying Yuan’s heart.

Ying Yuan’s heart trembled as Yi Shanshan faced her directly, the barrier of the mirror space gone, their gazes locked directly.

“Are you really not mad?”

The hairdryer in Ying Yuan’s hand buzzed. She shook her head. She wasn’t mad—that much was certain.

“Then I’m mad,” Yi Shanshan declared.

Ying Yuan: “……”

Yi Shanshan reached out, looping her arms around Ying Yuan’s waist. “I’m mad, and only a hug from Yuan-dear will make me feel better~”

Ying Yuan: “……”

The true motive revealed itself.

As expected, Yi Shanshan’s tantrums were usually just excuses to hug Ying Yuan.

Ying Yuan’s hugs were like the most delicious candy to her—the more she could get, the better.

But how could Ying Yuan resist when Yi Shanshan was being so soft and affectionate, calling her by her nickname, and wrapping her arms around her waist?

“Okay, you can hug me,” Ying Yuan said, meeting her gaze. “But your hair isn’t dry yet. Let me finish blow-drying it.”

“Oh,” Yi Shanshan replied, sounding both reassured and slightly dissatisfied.

Ying Yuan had expected her to press closer, wrapping her arms around her entirely, so she could easily reach the back of her head to continue drying her hair. But Yi Shanshan remained in the same position, simply holding her loosely, a significant gap between their bodies.

In that space between them, Yi Shanshan kept her gaze fixed on Ying Yuan’s face. Her eyes were like a child studying a toy—lazy yet brimming with curiosity.

Ying Yuan could only smooth Yi Shanshan’s bangs and side hair. As their lips brushed, Yi Shanshan murmured, “You’re too gentle.”

“Hmm?” Ying Yuan replied.

“Your fingers are too light,” Yi Shanshan explained. “They’re not even going into my hair.”

Ying Yuan fell silent. Her chaotic thoughts resurfaced. But Yi Shanshan was speaking so earnestly about a practical matter that Ying Yuan had to force herself to focus, following Yi Shanshan’s instructions to probe deeper into her hair.

Inside, the hair was still damp, the strands clinging and damp when Ying Yuan’s fingertips brushed against them.

“Still too gentle,” Yi Shanshan insisted. “Use a little more force. Don’t be afraid to touch my scalp.”

“Mm-hmm,” Ying Yuan replied.

Yi Shanshan chuckled. “If you could massage it a bit, that would be even better—relaxing and all.”

Ying Yuan fell silent again.

She didn’t want Yi Shanshan staring at her face anymore. She could do all these things Yi Shanshan asked, but she didn’t want her inner turmoil to be detected. The thought filled her with shame.

Ying Yuan raised her hand, pressed her entire palm against Yi Shanshan’s head, and pulled her into a tight embrace against her chest.

“Lean back against me,” Ying Yuan whispered in her ear. “It’ll make it easier for me to work.”

“Mmm…” Yi Shanshan murmured, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. She was both displeased and pleased.

She pressed her entire face against Ying Yuan’s neck, rubbing her cheek against the exposed skin to soothe the disappointment of not having her earlier kiss returned.

Following Yi Shanshan’s instructions, Ying Yuan continued to blow-dry her hair while giving her a relaxing scalp massage. The soft rustling of her fingertips through Shanshan’s hair vibrated directly through her skull, lulling her into a sleepy contentment.

Completely relaxed, Yi Shanshan clung tightly to this human-sized pillow before her, unable to resist sharing more of her secrets and innermost thoughts.

“It’s not even about boosting our ship anymore. What’s the point? But hearing people obsess over us still makes me happy~

“It just… makes me happy. It means our connection is real, obvious to anyone with eyes. It means our dynamic is compelling, perfect for shipping!

“Kissing you made me happy too, Ying Yuan~ Your lips are so soft… and you smell so good…”

Unable to contain herself any longer, despite Ying Yuan’s hand pressing down on her head, Yi Shanshan struggled to lift her head.

Yi Shanshan craned her neck upward, catching sight of Ying Yuan’s delicate nose, parted lips, and sharp chin.

Her gaze traced the smooth line connecting Ying Yuan’s chin to her throat, the subtle rise and fall as she swallowed.

Every inch of her is perfect for another kiss, Yi Shanshan thought, her mind racing. If only I could kiss her twice, thrice, even more…

But Ying Yuan would never allow such abandon. Reluctantly, Yi Shanshan settled for a more restrained target.

Tilting her head back, Yi Shanshan pressed her lips against Ying Yuan’s chin.

Ying Yuan’s chin was sharp and pointed, the soft flesh beneath promising a delightful texture.

Yi Shanshan felt herself unraveling, transforming into a delirious puppy. Her mouth opened involuntarily, her teeth sinking into that tempting morsel of flesh.

The series of movements came too suddenly, like Ying Yuan had been swept away by a surging tide, wave after wave, cresting in a feverish climax.

Or as if her chest had been forcibly pried open, a hand grasping her heart, squeezing with brutal force.

“Mmm…”

A muffled groan escaped her lips.

Her right hand’s fingers tightened and slipped, clicking the hair dryer off with a snap.

Meanwhile, her left palm, already pressed against Yi Shanshan’s head, curled inward, her fingertips digging into her scalp with a strange intensity.

The buzzing silence of the hair dryer amplified the stifling stillness in the brightly lit room, exposing every detail.

Yi Shanshan also hummed softly, the sound muffled in her throat, carrying with it a warm, damp breath.

In the mirror, Ying Yuan saw her own reflection—her eyes blazing with a crimson intensity.