Sharing the Dorm with the Enemy from Previous Life

Fellow Boyfriend (2)

The balcony of the luxury flat was wide and well-lit, and the warm sun at three or four o’clock in the winter afternoon shone on the green plants and vines on the balcony. It was a quiet place.

Ruan Qingmu stuffed the bed sheet into the washing machine and studied the buttons with his head down in distress when a long, slender finger reached over and skillfully pressed a few switches, his voice gentle. “No need to feel ashamed.”

Ruan Qingmu gruffly said, “Who is ashamed? Have you never learned physiology hygiene, top student? It’s healthy like this. If you’re not like this every morning, you need to visit a doctor, understand?”

As soon as he raised his head, the tip of his nose bumped into Qin Yuan’s chin by surprise. Qin Yuan lowered his head and his bright phoenix eyes contained a shallow, shy smile. “Yes, ah. All are like this. So, you don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s not completely your fault.”

Ruan Qingmu stepped back a bit, slightly confused. What did he mean it wasn’t all his fault?

Qin Yuan said softly, “There’s mine too. The bigger stain.”

Ruan Qingmu finally understood, and his face reddened suddenly. “… Bullshit! What do you mean yours is bigger? A top student is so amazing. Can you even calculate an irregular area?!”

Qin Yuan looked at him with unblinking eyes and his voice lowered even more. “Mm… When I woke up, I couldn’t help but lift it open to look at it. I’m sorry.”

Ruan Qingmu stared dumbfounded at his handsome, calm face before suddenly lifting his foot and kicking at his calf. “Fuck off, voyeur!”

Goddamn it. This man was even more daring than in his dream yesterday. He had only had a birthday and was only eighteen years old and suddenly he was an adult with a flowery mouth*.

*T/N: Flowery mouth: He is full of words, smooth-talking, and full of nice things to say, but he is certainly not reliable.

He stood straight and didn’t say a single dirty word, but he sounded so pornographic! Right, he was certainly talking dirty!

He ran toward the living room, but before he could take a few steps, he tripped over something on the edge of the coffee table and stumbled, almost knocking his knee.

Qin Yuan hurried to catch up with him, holding him up, and anxiously reached out to hold the thing next to him. “Don’t knock it!”

When Ruan Qingmu looked up, he saw that his painting had tripped him.

He clenched his teeth and stared at Qin Yuan. “Do you actually like the painting or the person?”

Qin Yuan said softly, “I like both.”

While Ruan Qingmu was sleeping, he quietly got up and went to the living room to open the gift.

The painting was a beautiful small landscape with a slightly similar setting to the blackboard, with the same two handsome, ancient-costumed youths in the picture.

Other than the pine and mountain rocks on the chalkboard had changed into peach blossoms and flowing water, the two youths appeared little more intimate in their gestures in the painting.

The painting featured a winding river flowing through the green hills, with glorious peach blossoms obliquely entering the picture. A small boat sat in the middle of the river, on which two young men in fluttering clothes stood side by side at the bow of the boat, each with their faces slightly turned to the side as if they were smiling at each other or whispering intimately.

The brushstrokes were delicate and elegant. The corners of the young men’s clothes were flying, and although the wind was not quite as strong as that of Wu’s belt*, one could feel the wind on the river and the rapid current in the river.

*T/N: 吴带当风(idiom): Wu’s belt. There was a Tang Dynasty’s painter, Wu Daozi, with his brushwork so smooth and graceful that he painted the clothes as if they were being blown by the wind. It was used by later generations to praise his superb painting skills and elegant style.

Although the figures were distant, a few delicate brush strokes brought the smiling faces of the two young men to life.

They were familiar and unfamiliar.

Next to it was a simple “Upright Qin-shaoxia,” inscribed with a joking “Young Master of Demonic Clan, Ruan Qingmu,” which made no sense but left him stunned for a long time in the deserted living room.

Ruan Qingmu looked at him and his lips lifted in a slight smile. “Do you like it? When I went to mount it, the mounting master praised it.”

Qin Yuan let out a soft “mm.” “I like it.”

After mulling it over in his head he added, “It’s the thing I like the most out of all the things I received in all my years.”

Ruan Qingmu looked at him quietly, with a vague understanding in his heart.

A careless, cautious father, and a superficial and uncommitted stepmother, combined with Qin Yuan, a small saw-lipped gourd* who refused to say anything.

*T/N: A saw-lipped gourd: a metaphor for someone who is not good at speaking or speaks very little.

He solemnly patted Qin Yuan’s shoulder. “Then, I will give you a birthday present every year.”

As he said that, a strong smell of seasoning wafted over and Ruan Qingmu’s stomach immediately grumbled a few times.

He was starving. He hadn’t eaten a single thing since this morning. Ruan Qingmu ran into the kitchen and familiarly lifted the pot to look inside.

Aiyo. The dumplings were being cooked! He stared at the dumplings floating and tumbling in the water, and the more he looked at them, the stranger he felt. They were so ugly!

Behind him, Qin Yuan’s voice was clear. “Don’t ponder over it. It’s your house’s.”

Ruan Qingmu turned around in surprise. “What? When you came, my mom even told you to bring dumplings?”

No wonder it looked so familiar. Xiao-Yun’s eyes were not good and Xiao-Zhuang also messily wrapped the dumplings, so the dumplings were tragically ugly.

Qin Yuan came over, scooped up the dumplings, added a bowl of cold water, and covered it with a lid. “Your mom called, asking where we are. I said you woke up very early for the morning run and were tired so you were taking a nap at my house.”

Ruan Qingmu looked at the small bowl with the dipping sauce mixed next to it. It was also the same recipe standard in his house. “And then?”

“Your mom was afraid we didn’t have anything to eat, but she couldn’t do it herself too, so she used an intra-city errand app to send the dumplings here.”

Ruan Qingmu stared at the round, white dumplings tumbling in the pot. “But can you cook dumplings?”

Qin Yuan smiled faintly, “Your mom sent me a long message, teaching me how many times to put water, how long to cook each time, and how to determine if it’s cooked. She told everything clearly. Oh right, she also packed a seasoned dipping sauce.”

On the cooking counter next to him was a large, shallow bowl in which balsamic vinegar and soy sauce were mixed, with sesame oil and a little bit of very finely chopped green onion floating on top.

Ruan Qingmu bent down to take a bowl. “Let’s divide it.”

Just as he raised his hand, Qin Yuan had already reached out to block him, giving him a deep look with a vague shyness in his eyes. “No need to divide it. Just dip it in this bowl.”

Ruan Qingmu looked suspiciously at his slightly red earlobe, constantly feeling something was wrong. If you don’t want to wash an extra bowl, just say so. Why such a sentimental expression?