校园蜜丝足情

The first day of college felt like stepping into a fog that would never lift.

I dragged my suitcase across the concrete path of G University, the wheels rattling against the pavement in a rhythm that matched the hollow thud in my chest. All around me, freshmen were laughing, calling out to each other, parents fussing over luggage and bedding. The air was thick with that peculiar energy of new beginnings—excited voices, the smell of freshly cut grass, the distant echo of a marching band practicing somewhere on the sports field.

None of it touched me.

I was a ghost walking through their world, carrying nothing but the weight of a year I couldn't let go of. The summer had been long and silent, spent holed up in my room, clicking through lines of code that made sense in a way people never did. If only life were as logical as programming. If only errors came with error messages that told you exactly where things went wrong.

But love didn't work like that. It never did.

The dormitory building loomed ahead, gray and functional, just like every other building on campus. I found my room on the third floor, already half-filled with the chaos of three other guys. The one who turned out to be my roommate—I learned his name was Ren Bin—was already sprawled on the lower bunk, scrolling through his phone.

"You Li Mo?" he asked, barely looking up.

I nodded.

"Cool. I got the bottom bunk, you get the top. Hope you don't mind climbing."

I didn't mind. I didn't mind much of anything anymore.

The first week was a blur of orientation speeches, campus tours, and the kind of forced social interaction that made my skin crawl. I kept my head down, answered questions with one word when I had to, and spent meals sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria, picking at food I couldn't taste.

Guys in my class talked about girls. About who was hot, who was single, who might be easy. I listened and said nothing. Their conversations felt like they were happening in another language, one I used to speak fluently but had forgotten somewhere between senior year and now.

Then came the announcement: military training.

Every freshman dreaded it. Two weeks of standing in the sun, marching in formation, being shouted at by instructors who took their job far too seriously. The first day was brutal. By noon, my feet felt like they had been pounded with a hammer, the cheap insoles of my sneakers offering no cushion against the unyielding concrete of the training ground.

During the lunch break, I was sitting under a tree by myself, unlacing my shoes to check the damage, when a voice cut through my isolation.

"First day got you good, huh?"

I looked up. A girl was standing over me, tall and slim, with short black hair and an easy smile. She wore the same training uniform as everyone else, but she carried herself like she owned the ground beneath her feet.

"Doesn't everyone's feet hurt?" I muttered, not in the mood for conversation.

"Oh, they do. But there's a trick." She crouched down beside me, pulling something out of her pocket. "Here."

She held out what looked like a small white pad. It took me a second to realize what it was.

"A sanitary pad?"

"Yeah. Stick it in your shoe, under your heel. Trust me, it's like walking on clouds. The guys make fun of it until they try it. Then they shut up real fast."

I stared at the pad in her hand, then back at her face. She was grinning, completely unembarrassed.

"What?" she said. "You think I'm joking?"

I didn't know what to say. She was acting like we were old friends, like this was the most natural thing in the world. I took the pad from her, a little unsure, and she watched as I peeled off the backing and stuck it inside my sneaker.

"So?" she asked.

I put my foot back in and pressed down. The difference was immediate. The hard concrete against my heel was replaced by a soft, cushioned layer that absorbed every step.

"It actually works," I said, surprised.

"Told you. I'm Shen Lei, by the way. We're in the same class. Information Systems."

"Li Mo."

"I know. You've got that 'I want to disappear into the back row forever' vibe. I'm good at reading people."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I didn't. But she didn't seem to need a response. She sat down on the grass next to me, pulling her own shoe off and revealing a sanitary pad already stuck inside.

"You should see the girls' side. We're all walking around like we've got secret weapons in our shoes. The instructors have no idea." She laughed, and it was the kind of laugh that invited you in, whether you wanted to come or not.

Over the next few days, Shen Lei became a fixture in my peripheral vision. She'd find me at meals, sit next to me during breaks, talk to me like I was a person who mattered. She was the kind of person who filled silences effortlessly, telling stories about her hometown, complaining about the food, making observations about the other freshmen that were sharp but never mean.

I didn't know what to make of her attention. Part of me wondered if she felt sorry for me, the quiet kid with the dead eyes. But another part of me, a part I thought had died, found myself listening to her voice and realizing that I hadn't felt this connected to another human being in months.

On the fourth day of training, she announced: "You're coming to dinner with me tonight. No arguments."

"Why?"

"Because you've been eating alone and it's depressing. I'm not saying you have to become a social butterfly, but one meal with actual conversation won't kill you."

I wanted to refuse. But something in her tone told me it wasn't really an option.

That evening, she led me to the cafeteria and steered me toward a table where three girls were already sitting. Two of them were deep in conversation, while the third was scrolling through her phone, her profile turned toward me.

"Guys, this is Li Mo. Li Mo, these are my roommates."

The two who were talking looked up. One was pretty in a striking way—long hair, high cheekbones, eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. The other was shorter, rounder in the face, with an energy that reminded me of a small, excited bird.

"Hi," the striking one said, her voice measured. "I'm Zhang Hui."

"I'm Yang Mei!" the bubbly one chirped. "Nice to meet you, Li Mo."

Then the third girl looked up from her phone.

And the world stopped.

She was small. That was the first thing I noticed. Small and fine-boned, with a round face that belonged on a porcelain doll. Big eyes, soft cheeks, lips that curved into a natural pout. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, revealing the delicate line of her neck.

But it wasn't her face that made my breath catch.

It was her legs.

Under the hem of her shorts, she was wearing white stockings. Not tights, but stockings that ended just above the knee, held up by an invisible garter. The fabric was sheer, almost translucent, catching the fluorescent light of the cafeteria in a way that made her skin look like it was glowing. Her legs were perfect—slim, smooth, the curve of her calves flowing into slender ankles that ended in a pair of simple white sneakers.

A wave of heat washed over me.

It was immediate and visceral, a jolt that went straight through my chest and settled somewhere deep in my gut. My fingers twitched. My mouth went dry.

I had seen girls in stockings before. Hundreds of times. In magazines, in videos, in the dark corners of the internet that I visited when the loneliness got too heavy to bear. But seeing it in person—seeing that soft white fabric clinging to the skin of a living, breathing girl—was something else entirely.

It was like a key turning in a lock I didn't know I had.

"Hey," she said, her voice light and a little shy. "I'm Mi Li."

"Li Mo," I said, and my voice came out rough, like I hadn't used it in years.

She smiled, and I looked away.

The rest of the dinner was a blur. I sat there, barely eating, answering questions in monosyllables, while the girls talked around me. Yang Mei was studying business administration. Zhang Hui was in the same program, and so was Mi Li. They were all in the same dormitory, on the same floor, like a little family.

Shen Lei kept the conversation flowing, occasionally throwing a question my way to keep me from disappearing into myself. But I couldn't focus. My eyes kept drifting down, catching flashes of white beneath the table, the way the fabric hugged Mi Li's knees, the subtle shimmer when she crossed her legs.

She caught me looking once.

Her eyes met mine for just a second, and I felt my face burn. I looked away so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash, staring at a spot on the wall like it held the secrets of the universe.

When she looked back at her phone, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Zhang Hui said nothing.

But when I glanced up, I saw her looking at me with an expression I couldn't read. Her eyes were sharp, observant, cataloging something I couldn't name. She held my gaze for a beat longer than comfortable, then turned back to Yang Mei's story without missing a beat.

Something told me I hadn't been as discreet as I thought.

I made my excuses early. Homework, I said. I had programming to catch up on. Shen Lei gave me a knowing look, like she could see right through the lie, but she let me go.

The walk back to my dormitory was a blur. All I could see was that flash of white. All I could feel was the phantom memory of that fabric catching the light.

That night, I lay in the top bunk, staring at the ceiling while Ren Bin snored below me and the other guys talked about girls and video games in the common room. The darkness was absolute, the silence broken only by the hum of the air conditioner and the distant laughter from another building.

I closed my eyes.

And she was there.

White stockings. Smooth legs. A shy smile that held no idea what it was doing to me.

My hand moved without permission, sliding down my stomach, past the waistband of my shorts. I told myself to stop. Told myself this was wrong, pathetic, the desperate act of a lonely boy who couldn't let go of the past.

But my body didn't listen.

I pictured her legs. The way the white fabric stretched over her knees. The way it thinned at the ankle, revealing the delicate bones beneath. The way the light had played across her skin, making it look like I could reach out and touch it.

My hand moved faster.

Guilt and arousal twisted together in my chest, each feeding the other until I couldn't tell them apart. I thought about how she had caught me looking, and instead of disgust, I had seen only curiosity. And maybe—just maybe—something that could have been interest.

My breath hitched. My muscles tensed. And then I was coming, my release spilling hot and wet across my stomach, pooling in the hollow of my belly button.

I lay there, panting, staring at the ceiling as the shame washed over me.

What the hell was wrong with me?

It was just a pair of stockings. Just a pair of legs. Millions of guys saw the same thing every day and didn't react like this.

But it wasn't just the stockings, was it?

It was the way she had looked at me. Soft and open, with no judgment in her eyes. It was the way I had felt seen for the first time in a year, even if that seeing was only for a moment, only about something so shallow and meaningless.

I grabbed a tissue from the box by my bed and wiped myself clean. The fabric stuck to my skin, cold and sticky, and I threw it away with disgust.

She probably had a boyfriend. Most pretty girls did. And even if she didn't, what would she want with someone like me? Someone who couldn't look at a woman without his mind twisting into dark places. Someone who was still haunted by a girl from high school who had never really been his.

That night, I lay awake for hours.

And as the moon traced its path across the ceiling, I drifted back to another time. Another girl. Another wound that had never healed.

Her name was Mo Lan.

She had been the class moni

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# Chapter 10

The rumor spread through the business administration building like wildfire during the afternoon break. Someone had seen Li Mo walking across campus with a girl from their class—a petite girl with a round face, big innocent eyes, and a soft, almost childish way of moving.

Mi Li heard it from Shen Lei, who delivered the news with a carefully neutral tone that couldn't quite hide the pity in her eyes.

"Apparently her name is Yang Mei," Shen Lei said, sitting on the edge of Mi Li's bed in their dorm room. "She's from their class. Li Mo has been helping her with some computer thing, and they've been spending time together."

Mi Li didn't respond. She sat at her desk, staring at the textbook open in front of her without seeing a single word. Her fingers had gone cold, and there was a hollow sensation spreading through her chest like ice water slowly filling her lungs.

"She looks like you," Shen Lei added quietly, almost reluctantly. "I saw them from a distance near the cafeteria. Same height, same face shape, same way of tilting her head when she listens. Even her hair is the same length."

The words hit Mi Li like physical blows. She gripped the edges of her chair, her knuckles turning white.

A replacement.

Li Mo had found someone who looked like her. Someone who could stand in for her. Someone who could receive the attention, the kindness, the warmth that she had thrown away when she chose to date Wang Bing.

This was worse than if he had found Xu Ying. Xu Ying was beautiful in a completely different way—tall, elegant, mature. Mi Li could have rationalized that, told herself that Li Mo had simply moved on to a different type. But this... this was a mirror. A cruel, mocking mirror that reflected everything she had lost.

"This is his punishment," Mi Li whispered, not realizing she had spoken aloud until Shen Lei's hand landed gently on her shoulder.

"Mi Li..." Shen Lei's voice was soft, careful. "You broke up with him. You chose Wang Bing. You can't expect Li Mo to wait forever."

"I know." The words came out hollow, mechanical. "I know I have no right to feel this way. I know I made my choice. But it hurts, Shen Lei. It hurts so much more than I thought it would."

She thought about Li Mo's eyes—those sad, gentle eyes that had looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. She had thrown that away. And now he had found someone else to look at that way. Someone who wore her face but wasn't her.

The worst part was that she couldn't even be angry. She had no claim on him. No right to jealousy. She had traded him for Wang Bing, and now she was paying the price.

But the price felt unbearable.

For the next three days, Mi Li moved through her life like a ghost. She went to classes, ate meals, talked to people, but none of it felt real. Everywhere she looked, she saw reminders of what she had lost. Everything tasted like ash.

Wang Bing noticed.

He had been patient at first, playing the role of the understanding boyfriend. He brought her food when she forgot to eat, walked her to class when she seemed lost, held her hand when she sat in silence. But his patience had limits, and those limits were rapidly eroding.

On the third night, he finally snapped.

"Can you stop being a fucking zombie for five minutes?" He grabbed her arm as they walked back from a late dinner, spinning her around to face him. "You've been like this for days. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Mi Li blinked, her eyes finally focusing on his face. He was angry—really angry. The veins in his neck were bulging, and his grip on her arm was painful.

"Nothing," she said automatically. "I'm just tired."

"Bullshit." He yanked her closer, his face inches from hers. "I heard about Li Mo. I heard he found himself a new girlfriend. Some little bitch who looks just like you."

Mi Li's heart stopped. "That's not—"

"Don't lie to me!" He shook her, hard. "You think I don't see it? You think I don't see you moping around like some broken toy because your ex-boyfriend found someone else? You're my girlfriend, Mi Li. Mine. And you're still crying over him?"

"I'm not crying," she said, but her voice cracked, and she felt tears burning at the corners of her eyes.

"That's it." Wang Bing released her arm with a disgusted shove. "I've been too nice to you. Too fucking patient. Tomorrow night, we're going out. Just the two of us. No excuses. You're going to stop thinking about that loser, and you're going to remember who you belong to now."

"I don't want to—"

"I don't care what you want." His eyes were cold, hard. "Seven o'clock. I'll pick you up at your dorm. Wear something nice."

He turned and walked away without looking back, leaving Mi Li standing alone in the dimly lit path, her arms wrapped around herself, her body trembling.

---

The next evening, Mi Li stood in front of her dorm mirror, staring at her reflection. She had put on a dress—a simple white sundress that she had worn on her first real date with Li Mo. It felt wrong to wear it now, like she was desecrating a sacred memory, but she didn't have the energy to care anymore.

She was exhausted. Emotionally drained. Every part of her felt hollow and fragile, like a glass that had been cracked in a thousand places and was waiting for the final blow to shatter completely.

When Wang Bing texted her at 6:45, she walked downstairs without saying goodbye to Shen Lei, who was watching her with worried eyes from her bed.

"Mi Li, be careful," Shen Lei called after her. "You don't look good. Maybe you should stay in tonight."

"I'll be fine," Mi Li said without turning around. "It's just dinner."

It was not just dinner.

Wang Bing took her to a small restaurant near the outskirts of campus—a place she had never been to before. The food was good, but Mi Li could barely taste it. She moved food around her plate, forcing herself to take small bites, nodding mechanically when Wang Bing spoke.

He kept ordering drinks. First beer, then something stronger. Mi Li drank automatically, not bothering to refuse. The alcohol numbed her senses, made the edges of her pain blur a little. She drank more.

By the time they left the restaurant, the world was spinning. Mi Li stumbled, and Wang Bing caught her, his arm wrapping around her waist.

"You're drunk," he said, and there was something in his voice that made her uneasy, some strange satisfaction that cut through the alcohol haze.

"I want to go back to the dorm," she said, but the words came out slurred, weak.

"Not yet." Wang Bing steered her toward a side street, away from the bright lights of the main road. "I got us a room nearby. You need to sober up before I take you back to campus. Can't have you stumbling into the dorm like this."

Something in Mi Li's chest went cold. She tried to pull away, but her arms felt like they were made of lead.

"I don't want to go to a hotel," she said, trying to make her voice firm. "Take me home. Please."

"You'll feel better after you rest." Wang Bing's grip tightened, pulling her closer. "Trust me."

She didn't trust him. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to run, but her legs wouldn't cooperate. The alcohol had turned her muscles to jelly, and her vision was starting to blur in a way that had nothing to do with tears.

They stopped in front of a small, nondescript hotel. The kind of place that rented rooms by the hour without asking questions. Wang Bing dragged her inside, his hand pressed firmly against the small of her back.

The room was small and dingy. A single bed dominated the space, covered in cheap sheets that smelled of bleach and stale smoke. The curtains were drawn, and the only light came from a single lamp on the nightstand.

Mi Li's heart was pounding now—pounding so hard she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. She turned to face Wang Bing, and what she saw in his eyes made her blood freeze.

His usual mask of easy charm had completely fallen away. What remained was something hungry, predatory, and utterly without mercy.

"We're going to fix this tonight," he said, advancing toward her slowly. "After tonight, you're going to forget all about Li Mo. You're going to remember who you belong to."

"Ming... Wang Bing, please..." Mi Li backed away until her legs hit the edge of the bed. "This isn't... I don't want this..."

"Doesn't matter what you want." He reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her toward him. "You're my girlfriend. You should have been putting out months ago. I've been patient. Too patient. But that ends tonight."

He shoved her onto the bed. The impact knocked the breath out of her lungs, and the room spun violently. She tried to push herself up, but the alcohol and whatever else he had put in her drink had turned her limbs to useless weights.

Wang Bing climbed on top of her, his weight pressing her down into the mattress. His hands were everywhere—on her dress, her skin, her thighs. He was rough, greedy, his fingers digging into her flesh hard enough to leave bruises.

"No," Mi Li gasped, but her voice was so weak it barely escaped her throat. "Please, no, don't do this..."

"Shut up." He slapped her across the face, hard enough to make stars explode behind her eyes. "You're going to lie still and take it. And when I'm done, you're going to remember who owns you."

His hands found the zipper of her dress. She heard the rasp of metal, felt the fabric loosen around her shoulders. The cool air hit her skin, and a scream built in her throat—

—but didn't escape.

Because in that moment, as Wang Bing's hands clawed at her clothes, as his sour breath washed over her face, Mi Li's survival instinct ignited like a spark in gasoline.

She thought of Li Mo. Of his gentle hands, his sad eyes, the way he had looked at her like she was something precious. She thought of that night at the dance, watching him touch Xu Ying's legs, thinking she had lost him forever.

She thought of what Wang Bing was about to take from her. What she had been saving, protecting, keeping safe without even realizing it.

Not for him. Never for him.

For Li Mo. For the boy she had hurt, the boy she had pushed away, the boy she still loved even though she had no right to.

The thought crystallized into pure, burning rage.

Her vision snapped into focus. The drug was still there, making the world swim and blur, but adrenaline cut through the haze like a blade.

Wang Bing was fumbling with his belt, his attention momentarily distracted. It was the chance she needed.

Mi Li's hand shot out and grabbed the heavy glass lamp from the nightstand. She didn't hesitate. She swung it with every ounce of strength she had, smashing it against the side of Wang Bing's head.

The impact splintered the lamp. Glass flew everywhere. Wang Bing howled in pain, his hands flying to his head as blood poured from a gash above his ear.

"You fucking bitch!" He reeled backward, clutching his wound. The weight lifted from her body, and Mi Li scrambled backward across the bed, her heart hammering against her ribs.

He lunged for her again, but she was ready. She kicked out wildly, her bare foot connecting with his face. She felt his lip split under her heel, felt the warmth of his blood on her skin.

She didn't stop. She couldn't stop. She was a wild animal now, biting, scratching, kicking, screaming. Her nails raked across his face, leaving bloody furrows. When he grabbed her hair, she sank her teeth into his forearm so hard she tasted copper.

"Get off me!" She shrieked the words, her voice cracking with terror and fury. "Get away from me!"

Wang Bing recoiled, bleeding from a dozen wounds. For a moment, they stared at each other—him kneeling on the bed, stunned and furious; her pressed against the headboard, panting, clutching a broken piece of glass lamp in her bleeding hand.

Then Mi Li moved.

She didn't think. She just ran.

She was out of the bed, out of the room, stumbling down the hallway in her torn dress, barefoot, her feet slapping against the cheap

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The hospital room was a universe of white. White walls, white ceiling, white sheets, white curtains that barely moved in the stale, recycled air. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Li Mo's mind was quiet.

He lay in the narrow bed, the fluorescent light above humming a low, constant note. The pain in his ribs had dulled from a sharp, stabbing reminder to a deep, throbbing ache. The cuts on his hands and knuckles were healing, scabbed over with the rough texture of new skin. But the real healing, the one that was happening somewhere deeper than flesh and bone, was more subtle.

Mi Li sat in the plastic chair beside him, her head bent over a textbook. The light caught the curve of her cheek, the soft, barely-there down on her upper lip. She was wearing a simple white blouse, the collar modest, and a pair of loose jeans. No makeup. No adornment. She was stripped down to the absolute essentials of herself, and in that simplicity, she was stunning.

"Open," she said, not looking up from the page.

Li Mo obeyed, parting his lips. Her hand, small and warm, brought a spoonful of congee to his mouth. The rice was bland, the broth thin, but it was nourishment. He swallowed.

"You don't have to do this," he said for the tenth time. "You have classes."

"I skipped them." She scooped another spoonful. "The notes are online. Zhang Hui sends them to me."

"That's not the same as—"

"Open."

He opened again. The congee was warm, settling in his stomach like a small, liquid sun.

Outside the door, he could hear muffled voices. Xu Ying, arguing with a nurse. Shen Lei's placating tone. Yang Mei's soft, questioning lilt. Mi Li had become a gatekeeper, a dragon at the gates of his recovery. She had told them all, in a voice that brooked no argument, that Li Mo needed rest. He needed peace. He needed to not be touched, not be seen, not be wanted.

They had tried to push. Zhang Hui had even come alone, her sharp eyes calculating, a bag of fruit in her hands. Mi Li had taken the fruit, thanked her, and closed the door in her face.

"Mi Li," Li Mo said, his voice hoarse. "They're your friends too."

"They can wait." She set down the spoon and picked up an orange, her fingers digging into the skin, peeling it away in a single, unbroken curl. The scent of citrus bloomed in the sterile air. She pulled a segment free and held it to his lips.

He took it, his teeth grazing her fingertips. She didn't flinch.

"I dreamt about you," he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Her hand paused, hovering over the orange. "Good dreams or bad?"

"Both." He looked at the ceiling, at the hairline crack that ran from the light fixture to the corner. "In the bad ones, you were walking away with Wang Bing. You were laughing. And I was just... standing there. Watching."

She didn't speak. She placed another segment of orange in his mouth.

"But in the good ones," he continued, chewing slowly, "you were here. Like this. Just sitting. Just being with me."

Mi Li set the orange down. She reached out and took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his. Her skin was cool, her grip firm.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said. "Not right now."

The word "now" hung in the air between them, a small, unspoken qualifier. But Li Mo was too tired to parse it. He let the quiet settle around them again.

Later that afternoon, she helped him sit up, adjusting the angle of the bed with a soft hum of machinery. She fluffed his pillow, smoothed the sheets, wiped the sweat from his forehead with a damp cloth. There was nothing sexual in her touch, nothing demanding. It was care, pure and unadulterated.

And Li Mo realized, with a clarity that startled him, that he had been starving for this. Not the sex. Not the thrill of silk and nylon against his skin. But this. The simple, uncomplicated presence of someone who wanted nothing from him but his well-being.

He watched her as she read, her lips moving silently over the words. The curve of her neck, the way her hair fell across her cheek. She was not wearing stockings or heels. She was not performing. She was just Mi Li. The girl from the dorm room. The girl with the bright smile and the gentle hands. The girl he had thought he lost.

The tears came without warning. Hot, silent, sliding down his cheeks.

Mi Li looked up. She didn't ask why. She just set down her book, leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his forehead. The kiss was soft, dry, and brief.

"It's okay," she whispered against his skin. "It's okay to be tired, Li Mo."

He closed his eyes, and for the first time in weeks, he slept without dreaming.

---

The day of his discharge came with a pale winter sun that felt almost apologetic, as if it knew it was intruding on the cocoon they had built. Mi Li packed his few belongings into a plastic bag. The nurses smiled at them, a knowing, slightly envious look. The young couple, the girl who never left.

But outside the hospital doors, the world was waiting.

Shen Lei's text had come in that morning, bright and breezy: *Dinner tonight. 7 PM. The Lazy Fish restaurant on East Street. Non-negotiable. Consider it your welcome-back-to-reality party.*

Mi Li had read the message over his shoulder, her expression unreadable. "You don't have to go," she said.

"I know." He took the phone from her, pocketing it. "But I think I should."

"Why?"

He didn't have an answer for that. Or rather, he had too many answers, none of which he wanted to voice. Because he owed them an explanation. Because he was afraid of what they thought of him. Because a small, dark part of him missed the chaos, the heat, the oblivion of their bodies.

Because he wanted to see if he could sit in a room with all of them and not feel like he was drowning.

The restaurant was small, tucked away in a side street, the kind of place that served cheap beer and greasy skewers. The neon sign flickered, the plastic chairs wobbled, and the smell of cumin and chili hung in the air like a welcome. It was a student's restaurant, a place for late-night confessions and drunken fights.

Shen Lei had booked the private room at the back, a curtained-off space with a single round table and a dim, buzzing lightbulb. When Li Mo and Mi Li pushed through the curtain, the noise inside stopped.

Xu Ying was seated at the far end, a bottle of beer already half-empty in front of her. She looked up, her dark eyes cool, appraising. Beside her sat Yang Mei, her hands folded nervously, her round face pink with a combination of lip gloss and anticipation. Shen Lei was next to her, her phone in her hand, a tight smile on her lips. And at the corner, leaning back in her chair with the relaxed posture of a cat, sat Zhang Hui.

The table was already half-covered with dishes—cucumber salad, boiled peanuts, skewers of lamb and chicken. Steam rose from a pot of spicy fish stew. The scene was almost domestic, a group of friends reuniting.

But the air was electric with everything unsaid.

"Li Mo." Xu Ying was the first to speak. She didn't stand, just lifted her bottle in a mock toast. "You look like shit. Better shit than last week, but still shit."

"He needs to eat more," Yang Mei added, her voice soft, almost apologetic. "Hospital food is terrible."

Mi Li pulled out a chair for Li Mo, then sat down beside him. She didn't shrink back, didn't hide behind him. She placed her hands flat on the table and looked at each of the other women in turn.

"Thank you for organizing this, Shen Lei," she said. Her voice was steady, but Li Mo could feel the tension in her arm where it pressed against his. "It's good to be out."

"Well, we couldn't just leave him to rot in there forever," Shen Lei said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "You were very protective, Mi Li. We were starting to think you'd smuggled him out of the country."

"I was protecting him," Mi Li said simply. "He needed rest."

"And now he's rested." Zhang Hui picked up a peanut, cracking it between her fingers. "So what happens now?"

The question was directed at Li Mo, but it was aimed at Mi Li.

Li Mo opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He didn't have an answer. He looked down at the table, at the grease stains on the plastic tablecloth, at the condensation rings from the beer bottles.

Xu Ying set down her bottle. The clink of glass on wood was sharp. "Before we get into that," she said, "I want to say something."

She looked directly at Mi Li. It was not a hostile look. It was measured, deliberate, like a chess player considering her next move.

"I know you probably hate me," Xu Ying said. "All of us, maybe. And you have every right to. What we did was... unconventional."

Mi Li's jaw tightened, but she said nothing.

"But I need you to understand something." Xu Ying leaned forward, her elbows on the table. "Li Mo didn't just wake up one day and decide to become a degenerate. He was already broken. He was already bleeding. We just... happened to be there when the wound burst open."

"Don't," Li Mo said, his voice low.

"No, she needs to hear it." Xu Ying's eyes didn't leave Mi Li's. "Do you know what he told me, the first time we were together? He told me about you. About how you were the first girl who made him feel like he wasn't invisible. And then he told me about Wang Bing."

Mi Li flinched. The name hit her like a slap.

"Mi Li." Xu Ying's voice dropped, becoming softer, almost maternal. "I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm saying this because you need to know the truth. Li Mo is not a monster. He's a man who had his heart ripped out and stomped on, and instead of dealing with it like a normal person, he decided to use his body as a punching bag. The sex, the girls—it wasn't about pleasure. It was about pain. It was about proving to himself that he was worthless."

Yang Mei's face was red. She was staring at her hands, her fingers twisted together. Shen Lei had stopped pretending to look at her phone. Zhang Hui was still eating peanuts, her expression unreadable.

"We were just... tools," Xu Ying continued. "Distractions. Means to an end. And I'm okay with that. I was in control the whole time. But the reason he started in the first place—the reason he went crazy—was because you walked away."

Mi Li's eyes were bright, wet. "I didn't walk away. I was—"

"Confused," Xu Ying interrupted. "I know. Wang Bing was charming. He was there. But Mi Li, you have to understand the timing. You have to understand what it did to him. He had already been hurt once, in high school. And then you—the girl he trusted, the girl he thought was different—you went to his rival. You validated every fear he had about himself."

"I didn't know," Mi Li whispered. "I didn't know he felt that way."

"Of course you didn't. He never told you. He's a man. They don't say things like that." Xu Ying picked up her bottle again, taking a long drink. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I'm not asking you to accept what happened. But I am asking you to stop seeing Li Mo as the villain in this story. He's the victim. He's been the victim since high school, and he's been bleeding out slowly, and no one ever bothered to stop the bleeding."

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.

Mi Li's hands were trembling. She pressed them flat against her thighs, her knuckles white. Her gaze flickered to Yang Mei, who was still looking at her hands.

"And her?" Mi Li asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "What was Yang Mei to him?"

Xu Ying glanced at Yang Mei, then back at Mi Li. "You want the honest answer?"

"Yes."

"She looks like you. She sounds like you. She has the same softness, the same naivety." Xu Ying's voice was gentle, but the words were brutal. "She was your substitute, Mi Li. When he couldn't have you, he reached for the closest thing he could find. It wasn't love. It wasn't even desire. It was desperation."

Yang Mei looked up. Her eyes were red, but she didn't cry. She just nodded, a small, broken motion.

"I knew," Yang Mei said, her voice barely audible. "I k

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The campus canteen buzzed with the chaotic energy of lunch hour. Students shuffled in lines, trays clattering, voices overlapping into a constant hum. Li Mo stood near the window table, his tray already set down, when a familiar warmth pressed against his side.

"Move over, dummy."

Xu Ying slid onto the bench beside him, her tray landing with a soft thud. She was wearing a loose cream sweater today, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, her hair tied back in a simple ponytail. She looked comfortable. She looked like she belonged there.

"You could've sat across from me," Li Mo said, but he shifted anyway, making room.

"And miss the chance to sit next to my very famous, very dangerous boyfriend?" Xu Ying's eyes sparkled with mischief. She poked his ribs with her chopsticks. "You're a campus legend now. Everyone's talking about the IT guy who punched a rapist."

Li Mo winced, not from the poke but from the memory. "I didn't punch a rapist. I punched Wang Bing."

"Same difference." She picked up a piece of braised pork from her tray and held it out to him. "Eat. You've been skipping meals again."

He opened his mouth without thinking, letting her feed him. The gesture was so natural, so intimate, that he almost choked when he realized what had just happened. Across the canteen, he caught sight of a few guys from his dorm staring. Nie Peng's eyebrow was raised so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline.

"Xu Ying," Li Mo said, his voice low, "people are watching."

"Let them." She took a bite of her own food, completely unbothered. "We're dating, remember? This is what couples do."

Dating. The word still felt strange in his mouth. Two weeks ago, this arrangement had been a transaction. A favor. A way for her to protect him from gossip and for him to have someone to hold at night. But somewhere in the past fourteen days, the lines had blurred.

Xu Ying wasn't just a warm body anymore. She was the girl who remembered he liked his eggs runny. The girl who stole his hoodies and wore them to bed, then denied it with a straight face. The girl who laughed at his dry jokes and got quietly jealous when other girls looked at him too long.

She was also the girl who had never mentioned the word "love," and he was grateful for that. He wasn't ready for that word. Not yet.

---

Later that afternoon, Li Mo sat in the computer lab, staring at a half-finished line of code. The screen blurred in front of him. His mind kept drifting.

The fight with Wang Bing had changed something fundamental inside him. For years, he had carried the weight of high school like a stone in his chest. The whispers. The pitying looks. The way Hu Sheng had taken everything from him without even trying. But when his fist connected with Wang Bing's jaw, something had cracked. Not just the bastard's face, but the chains around Li Mo's own heart.

He was free.

It was a terrifying thought, because freedom meant he had no more excuses. No more shields. If he was still unhappy, it was on him.

"Hey, nerd."

Xu Ying's voice pulled him back. She was leaning against the doorframe of the lab, holding two cups of bubble tea. The afternoon sun caught her hair, turning it into a halo of gold.

"Break time," she announced, walking over and setting a cup in front of him. "Taro milk tea, less sugar, extra boba. Don't say I never do anything for you."

Li Mo smiled despite himself. "I wasn't going to say that."

"You were thinking it." She pulled up a chair and sat beside him, so close their shoulders touched. "Your face is very expressive, you know. You think you're all mysterious and brooding, but you have the emotional transparency of a goldfish."

"A goldfish?"

"A very handsome goldfish," she amended, taking a sip of her drink.

He laughed. Actually laughed. The sound surprised even him. It had been so long since he'd done that without bitterness behind it.

Xu Ying's eyes softened. She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, her fingers lingering against his skin. "I like hearing you laugh," she said quietly. "You should do it more often."

"Maybe I will." He caught her hand before she could pull away, lacing his fingers through hers. "Thank you, Xu Ying. For everything."

Her cheeks flushed pink. For all her boldness, sincerity always made her flustered. "Don't get all sappy on me," she muttered, but she didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she squeezed tighter.

They sat like that for a while, hands intertwined, the hum of computers filling the silence. It was peaceful. It was honest.

"I know this isn't real," Xu Ying said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know we're just playing a role. But sometimes... sometimes I forget where the act ends and I begin."

Li Mo's chest tightened. He wanted to say something. Something that would make it right. But the words wouldn't come.

"It's okay," she continued, forcing a smile. "I'm not asking for more than you can give. I just wanted you to know."

He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. A silent answer. A promise he wasn't sure he could keep.

---

That night, Li Mo lay in his dorm bed, staring at the ceiling while Nie Peng snored above him and Ren Bin scrolled through his phone in the corner. His phone buzzed.

Mi Li: "How's the wound today? Any swelling?"

He smiled at the screen. Mi Li had been sending these messages like clockwork since she left. Every morning and every night. A lifeline thrown across the distance she had created.

Li Mo: "It's fine. Almost healed. How's home?"

Mi Li: "Boring. My mom keeps feeding me and asking about boys. I told her I'm focusing on my studies."

Li Mo: "Liar."

Mi Li: "Maybe a little liar. But only about you."

He stared at the message, his heart doing something complicated. Mi Li was different from Xu Ying. Xu Ying was fire, bright and consuming. Mi Li was water, calm and deep. Both of them pulled him in different directions, and he was drowning in the space between.

He typed a response, deleted it, typed again.

Li Mo: "When are you coming back?"

There was a long pause. He watched the three dots appear and disappear.

Mi Li: "When I figure out what I want."

Li Mo: "And what do you want?"

Another pause.

Mi Li: "I want to be sure I'm not just a placeholder. I want to know that when you hold me, you're not thinking about someone else."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Because she was right. Because he had been thinking about someone else. Not Mi Li, not Xu Ying, but the ghost of a girl from high school who had haunted him for two years.

But that ghost was gone now. Wang Bing's blood had exorcised it.

Li Mo: "You're not a placeholder. You never were. Come back, Mi Li. We need to talk."

Mi Li: "One more week. I need one more week."

Li Mo: "I'll wait."

Mi Li: "I know you will."

He set the phone down and stared at the ceiling again. One week. Seven days. In that time, he had to figure out what he really wanted. Mi Li or Xu Ying? Or neither? Or both?

The thought was absurd. But so was his life right now. A year ago, he had been a lonely, bitter freshman with no friends and a broken heart. Now he had three girls who wanted him, a reputation as a campus hero, and a psychological compulsion that he was only beginning to understand.

What a strange, wonderful, terrifying world.

---

The next afternoon, Xu Ying dragged him to the campus lake. It was a small, man-made pond surrounded by willow trees, the kind of place where couples went to be romantic and students went to skip class.

"Come on, live a little," she said, pulling him onto the grass. She spread out a blanket she had somehow produced from her bag and flopped down, patting the spot beside her.

Li Mo sat down, more carefully. "You planned this."

"Obviously." She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a container of cut fruit. "Strawberries, kiwis, and mango. Your favorites. I pay attention."

"You really do."

She smiled, that genuine smile that made her look younger, softer. "I told you. I like you, Li Mo. Not the fake boyfriend version of you. The real you. The one who codes until three in the morning and forgets to eat. The one who punched a guy for hurting someone he cares about."

"You make me sound like a hero."

"You are my hero." She said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that it took his breath away.

He picked up a strawberry and ate it, buying time. The sweetness burst on his tongue. She had chosen the perfect ones.

"You know," she said, lying back on the blanket and staring at the sky, "I used to think that love was this big, dramatic thing. Fireworks and declarations and running through airports. But now I think it's quieter than that. It's someone remembering how you like your tea. Someone who holds your hand when you're sad. Someone who makes you laugh even when you want to cry."

She turned her head to look at him. "Is that stupid?"

"No," he said softly. "That's not stupid at all."

He lay down beside her, their shoulders touching, their hands inches apart on the blanket. The sky above them was a perfect, cloudless blue. A bird sang somewhere in the willows.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Xu Ying."

"Neither do I. But that's okay."

He turned his head to look at her. She was already looking at him, her eyes wide and earnest.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

She smiled. "You don't have to ask."

He leaned in, and their lips met. It was different from their other kisses. Softer. Slower. There was no hunger, no desperation. Just two people figuring out a new rhythm together.

When they pulled apart, she was blushing again.

"That was nice," she said.

"Yeah. It was."

They stayed like that until the sun began to set, talking about nothing and everything. She told him about her childhood, about her dreams of traveling the world, about the time she accidentally dyed her hair green. He told her about his mom, about his love for old movies, about the programming project that had consumed his freshman year.

It was easy. Natural. For the first time in years, Li Mo felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

---

That evening, Li Mo walked Xu Ying back to her dorm. The campus was quiet, the streetlights casting long shadows across the path. She held his hand the entire way, swinging it gently.

"I had fun today," she said.

"Me too."

"Will you come with me to the library tomorrow? I have a paper due and I need someone to keep me accountable."

"Only if you promise to let me actually study."

She laughed. "No promises."

They stopped at the entrance to her building. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"Goodnight, boyfriend."

"Goodnight, fake girlfriend."

She poked his chest. "Don't push it."

He watched her disappear into the building, then turned to walk back to his own dorm. His phone buzzed.

Mi Li: "How was your day?"

He smiled.

Li Mo: "Good. I went to the lake with Xu Ying."

There was a pause. He waited, his heart beating a little faster.

Mi Li: "Did you have fun?"

Li Mo: "I did. But I kept thinking about you."

Mi Li: "Is that the truth?"

Li Mo: "It's always the truth with you."

Another pause. Then:

Mi Li: "Come pick me up from the station on Saturday. I'll be there by 10 AM."

His heart stopped. Then started again, stronger.

Li Mo: "I'll be there."

Mi Li: "I know you will."

He pocketed his phone and looked up at the stars. Three weeks ago, he had been a wreck. A broken, bitter shell of a man. Now he had two girls who cared about him, a reputation he didn't deserve, and a future that was suddenly full of possibility.

He still didn't know what he wanted. He still didn't know how this would end. But for the first time in years, he was excited to find out.

The night air was cool against his skin as he walked back to his dorm. Tomorrow, he would code. Tomorrow, he would study. Tomorrow, he would figure out how to navigate this strange, complicated web of relationships.

But tonight, he would let himself feel happy.

Just for tonight.

The library was a battlefield during finals week, every table occupied by students with bloodshot eyes and stacks of textbooks that seemed to grow taller by the hour. The air smelled of stale coffee, printer ink, and desperation. Yang Mei had been wandering the halls for twenty minutes, her fingers tracing the spines of books she had no intention of reading, her mind elsewhere entirely.

She spotted Mi Li near the east window of the second-floor reading area, leaning against the radiator, a highlighter in one hand and a stack of index cards in the other. Her lips moved silently as she recited something, her brow furrowed in concentration. She wore a simple white sweater and jeans, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. There was something fragile about the way she stood, as if she might shatter if someone spoke too loudly.

Yang Mei's heart hammered against her ribs. She had rehearsed this conversation a dozen times in her dorm room mirror, but now that the moment was here, her throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. She watched Mi Li for a long moment, taking in the tired circles under her eyes, the way her shoulders hunched slightly as if carrying an invisible weight.

"Mi Li."

The name came out softer than Yang Mei intended, barely a whisper. Mi Li looked up, and for a split second, recognition flickered in her eyes before being replaced by something guarded, something cautious. She lowered her highlighter and tilted her head, waiting.

"Can we talk?" Yang Mei asked, her voice steadier now. She gestured toward the end of the hallway where a small alcove housed a forgotten water fountain and a bench that no one ever sat on. "Just for a few minutes. Please."

Mi Li hesitated. Her gaze dropped to her index cards, then back to Yang Mei's face. Whatever she saw there must have convinced her, because she nodded slowly and began gathering her things. Yang Mei waited, her hands clasped in front of her, trying to keep them from trembling.

They walked in silence through the narrow corridor, past students hunched over laptops and study groups whispering about formulas and dates. The alcove was empty, as Yang Mei had hoped, and she sat down on the bench first, leaving space for Mi Li to sit beside her. Mi Li chose to stand instead, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

"I know you're busy with exams," Yang Mei began, her voice small. "I know you probably don't want to talk to me. I wouldn't blame you if you walked away right now."

Mi Li said nothing. Her expression was unreadable, but her fingers gripped the fabric of her sleeves.

Yang Mei took a deep breath. The words she had been holding inside for weeks pressed against her chest, demanding to be released. She looked up at Mi Li, her eyes earnest, almost pleading.

"I need to tell you the truth," she said. "About everything. About Li Mo. About Xu Ying. About what I did."

Mi Li's jaw tightened, but she didn't interrupt.

Yang Mei's voice wavered as she continued. "You have to understand something first. Li Mo never stopped caring about you. Not for a single second. When you two were fighting, when things were at their worst, he was a wreck. I've never seen anyone look so broken."

She paused, swallowing hard. "I was a terrible friend. I was jealous. Not because I wanted to steal him from you, but because I saw how you had something real, something I didn't have. And when you fought, when it seemed like you might lose each other, I thought... I thought maybe I could be a comfort to him. That maybe I could fill the space you left behind."

Mi Li's eyes glistened, but she remained silent.

"But I was wrong," Yang Mei said, her voice cracking. "I was so wrong. I was just a substitute, a placeholder. And the worst part is, I knew it. I knew it every time I went on those fake dates with him. I knew it every time he said my name and I could hear in his voice that he was thinking of someone else."

She reached out and took Mi Li's hand before Mi Li could pull away. The contact was warm, desperate, sincere.

"Please let me finish," Yang Mei whispered. "I need you to know what really happened. Because you've been carrying around a lie, and it's been poisoning everything."

Mi Li's breath hitched. She looked down at their intertwined fingers, then back at Yang Mei's face.

"Xu Ying never slept with Li Mo," Yang Mei said. "Not the way you think. I know because Xu Ying told me everything. She was honest with me the way I wasn't honest with you."

Mi Li's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that during those days when you were apart, when everything was falling apart, Xu Ying was there for him. But she was careful. She knew he was fragile, knew he was still in love with you. She didn't want to take advantage of him. So she did something that probably sounds strange, but it was her way of protecting him."

Yang Mei's face flushed, but she pushed through the embarrassment. "She gave him foot rubs. Foot jobs. Whatever you want to call it. It was intimate, yes. But it wasn't sex. Not the real kind. She was a substitute for you in the same way I was. But she drew a line that I didn't."

Mi Li's mouth fell open. Her mind raced, spinning through memories, through the accusations and assumptions she had built up over the past weeks. The jealousy that had gnawed at her insides, the nights she had cried herself to sleep imagining Li Mo in someone else's arms.

"Are you serious?" Mi Li asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"As serious as I've ever been about anything," Yang Mei said. "I know it sounds crazy. I know it sounds like something out of a bad romance novel. But Xu Ying told me herself. She said Li Mo was so broken that he couldn't even bring himself to touch her properly. All he wanted was your feet. Your scent. He was so obsessed with you that he couldn't even cheat properly."

A strangled sound escaped Mi Li's throat. She pressed her free hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Yang Mei squeezed her hand tighter. "And me? I was even worse. I went on those fake dates with him, let him pretend I was you. I wore his favorite perfume because you wore it. I let him call me by your name when we were alone. I was so desperate to be wanted that I agreed to be a shadow."

She laughed bitterly. "But here's the thing, Mi Li. When I was with him, when I saw the way he smiled when he talked about you, when I heard the way his voice softened when he said your name, I knew. I knew I could never be you. And more than that, I didn't want to be. I wanted to be myself. But he didn't want me. He wanted you."

Yang Mei wiped at her own eyes with her free hand. "I'm telling you this because you deserve to know the truth. Li Mo didn't betray you. He was pathetic and broken and he made a lot of mistakes, but he didn't betray you. Not the way you think."

Mi Li's shoulders shook with silent sobs. She sank down onto the bench beside Yang Mei, her legs no longer able to support her.

"Why are you telling me this now?" Mi Li asked, her voice muffled by her hands. "You could have let me keep hating him. You could have let me move on."

"Because I've seen what hating him does to you," Yang Mei said gently. "You're miserable. You're exhausted. You're not eating properly, and you probably haven't slept well in weeks. I've been watching you, Mi Li. I've been watching both of you, and it's killing me to see two people who belong together tearing each other apart over a misunderstanding."

She turned to face Mi Li fully, her eyes red but sincere. "I'm not telling you this to get my own conscience clean. I'm telling you this because I think Li Mo deserves a second chance. And I think you deserve to be happy. The kind of happy you were before everything fell apart."

Mi Li sniffled, her tears still falling. "But what about you? You said you went on dates with him."

"I did," Yang Mei admitted. "And I'm not proud of it. But nothing happened that we can't move past. He never touched me the way he touches you. He never looked at me the way he looks at you. I was a placeholder, and I've accepted that. I've made peace with it."

She let go of Mi Li's hand and sat back, her voice growing steadier. "I'm not going to pretend I don't have feelings for him. I do. But those feelings aren't more important than your happiness. And they're not more important than his happiness. If I can help fix what's broken between you two, then maybe I can finally move on too."

Mi Li stared at her, processing everything. The jealousy, the anger, the nights spent replaying imagined betrayals—all of it suddenly felt hollow, like a house built on a foundation of sand.

"Xu Ying really didn't sleep with him?" Mi Li asked again, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.

"Swear to God," Yang Mei said. "She told me everything. She said she felt guilty about it, that she knew it was wrong even while she was doing it. But she also knew that if she didn't give him some kind of outlet, he would have done something even more stupid. She was trying to protect him, in her own twisted way."

Mi Li let out a shaky breath. "And you? What did you do with him?"

Yang Mei blushed deeply. "I let him pretend I was you. I let him hold my hand and call me your name. I let him kiss me a few times, but it was always with his eyes closed, always like he was imagining someone else. That's when I knew it wasn't real. That's when I knew I had to stop."

She looked down at her lap. "I told him I couldn't do it anymore. I told him he needed to fix things with you or let you go. And he was devastated. He said he didn't know how to fix it, that you wouldn't even look at him."

Mi Li wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I wouldn't. I couldn't. Every time I saw him, I remembered what I thought he did to me."

"Now you know the truth," Yang Mei said softly. "The question is, what are you going to do with it?"

The silence stretched between them, filled with the distant sounds of the library, the hum of the vending machine, the shuffle of footsteps in the main hall. Mi Li stared at the floor, her mind churning.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know how to go back to how things were."

"Maybe you don't have to," Yang Mei said. "Maybe you can start over. Fresh. With everything out in the open."

Mi Li looked at her, really looked at her, and saw something she hadn't noticed before. Yang Mei's eyes were kind. They were honest. And they were tinged with a sadness that Mi Li recognized all too well.

"You really love him, don't you?" Mi Li asked quietly.

Yang Mei smiled, a sad, beautiful smile. "I think I could have loved him, if things were different. But they're not. He loves you. And I think I'm okay with that now. I think I'm ready to let go."

She stood up, brushing off her jeans. "I should get back to studying. Finals wait for no one, even heartbroken college students."

Mi Li caught her wrist before she could walk away. "Wait."

Yang Mei turned back, surprised.

"Thank you," Mi Li said, her voice raw. "For telling me. For being honest. For... for being a better friend than I ever gave you credit for."

Yang Mei's eyes welled up again. "You're welcome. And Mi Li?"

"Yes?"

"Go find him. He's been sitting in the engineering library every night, staring at his laptop without actually reading anything. I think he's been waiting for you to come."

Mi Li laughed, a wet, broken sound that was equal parts relief and joy. "You've been watching him too?"

"Someone had to," Yang Mei said with a small, genuine smile. "Someone had to make sure you two idiots found your way back to each other."

She walked away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving Mi Li alone on the bench with a heart full of new hope and a head full of second chances.

Mi Li sat there for a long moment, letting the tears fall freely. She thought about all the wasted weeks, the sleepless nights, the meals she had barely touched. She thought about Li Mo's face, the way his eyes had looked when she'd told hi

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The summer air was thick and heavy, carrying the distant sound of cicadas through the open window of dormitory 306. The final exam had ended just hours ago, and the corridor of the girls' dormitory building was already filled with the chaotic sounds of packing, farewells, and the occasional burst of laughter. But inside room 306, a strange, almost sacred silence had settled.

沈蕾 sat on her lower bunk, her phone clutched in her hand, her eyes darting between the screen and the door every few seconds. 杨梅 was perched on the chair by the desk, her legs tucked under her, her small hands fidgeting with the hem of her T-shirt. 徐颖 lay on her bed with a green clay mask drying on her face, but even she seemed distracted, her eyes occasionally flicking toward the door with a focus that betrayed her usual cool indifference.

"I can't believe she's actually coming," 沈蕾 whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "She said she'd be here before lights out. That was thirty minutes ago."

杨梅 nodded, her big eyes wide. "She texted me from the campus gate. She's gotta be close."

徐颖 let out a soft breath through her nose, the mask cracking slightly at the corners of her mouth. "Relax, both of you. She said she'd come. She'll come."

But even as she said it, her own fingers tightened around the edge of her pillow. The tension in the room was palpable, a coiled spring ready to release.

Then, footsteps.

They were light, hurried, the sound of sneakers padding against the concrete floor of the hallway. The footsteps grew louder, closer, and then stopped right outside the door. A pause. A soft click as the handle turned.

The door swung open.

米粒 stood in the doorway, a small rolling suitcase at her side. She was wearing a simple white sundress, her hair slightly tousled from the journey, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her face was flushed, but her eyes—those deep, expressive eyes—held a warmth that seemed to fill the entire room. She looked tired, but she was smiling.

"Hey, guys," she said softly.

沈蕾's eyes instantly reddened. She stood up so fast she nearly tripped over her own feet, and then she was across the room, throwing her arms around 米粒. "You're back," she choked out, her voice breaking. "You're actually back."

米粒 let out a soft laugh, hugging her back tightly. "I told you I'd come."

杨梅 was next, her smaller frame colliding with the embrace, her voice a high-pitched squeak. "I missed you so much! I missed you so much!"

"Missed you too," 米粒 murmured, her arms wrapping around both of them.

On the upper bunk, 徐颖 slowly peeled the drying mask from her face, discarding it in the trash can beside her bed. She swung her legs over the edge and hopped down, her expression unreadable. She walked toward the group standing in the doorway, and for a moment, the room held its breath.

徐颖 stopped in front of 米粒, her green eyes meeting hers. The silence stretched for a beat, two beats. Then, slowly, a smile broke across 徐颖's face—not a smirk, not a mask of indifference, but a genuine, heartfelt smile that softened every sharp edge of her features.

"Welcome back," she said, her voice quiet but steady.

米粒's eyes glistened. She reached out and took 徐颖's hand, squeezing it. "Thank you, 徐颖."

沈蕾 finally pulled back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Come in, come in. Don't just stand there. We brought snacks. A lot of snacks. We were planning to have a little party."

米粒 let out a breathy laugh, dragging her suitcase inside. Within minutes, the door was closed, the lock clicked, and the four girls had gathered on the floor, sitting cross-legged in a loose circle on the cool tile. A spread of chips, chocolates, and sodas was laid out between them like a sacrificial offering.

The first few minutes were tentative, filled with small talk about exams, about the summer, about the last few weeks. But the elephant in the room was too large to ignore. Finally, 沈蕾 set down the bag of chips she was holding and took a deep breath.

"米粒," she began, her voice careful, "we need to talk. About everything. About... about what happened before you left."

米粒's smile faded slightly, but she didn't look away. She nodded. "I know. I think we need to too."

杨梅 hugged her knees, her chin resting on them. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For keeping things from you. For not being honest about how I felt about 李默."

"Me too," 沈蕾 added, her cheeks flushing. "I should have told you from the beginning. I think we all should have been more honest."

徐颖, who had been quiet, finally spoke. "I was jealous. Of you, 米粒. Of how easily you seemed to connect with him. And I was scared. Scared that if I admitted how I felt, it would ruin everything. So I pretended. I put up walls." She paused, her eyes fixed on the soda can in her hands. "But that wasn't fair to you. Or to him. Or to any of us."

The room fell silent. 米粒's eyes moved from one face to the next, seeing the earnestness, the vulnerability, the raw, unfiltered emotion in each of them. She thought of 王冰's hands on her shoulder that night, of the fear that had gripped her heart. She thought of 杨梅's tears, of the quiet confession that had shattered her assumptions. She thought of all the nights she had spent alone, replaying every conversation, every secret glance, every moment of doubt.

And in that silence, something shifted inside her. The jealousy, the insecurity, the possessiveness—they didn't disappear, but they softened. They became manageable, like waves that had finally learned to recede instead of crash.

She reached out and took 杨梅's hand, then 沈蕾's, then 徐颖's. "I won't lie," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "It hurt. Finding out that 杨梅 liked him. That you both did. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized... I don't want to fight over him. I don't want to make this a competition. He's not a prize to be won. He's a person. And if he's someone worth loving, then he's worth sharing love for, not hoarding it."

杨梅's eyes filled with tears. "But we... we should have told you. We were wrong."

"Maybe," 米粒 said softly. "But we all make mistakes. And I think... I think we can learn from them. Together."

沈蕾 sniffled, squeezing 米粒's hand back. "So what do we do now?"

米粒 looked around the circle, at the faces of these three girls who had become her roommates, her rivals, her friends, her sisters. "We take it one day at a time," she said. "We don't keep secrets from each other anymore. We talk. We're honest." She paused, then added in a whisper, "And we figure out how to love him without tearing each other apart."

徐颖's eyes glistened. She looked away, blinking rapidly. "That's... that's really mature of you, 米粒."

"It's not maturity," 米粒 said with a small, sad smile. "It's just... I've been through something recently. Something that made me realize how fragile everything is. How quickly it can be taken away. I don't want to waste any more time on bitterness."

沈蕾's eyes widened. "What happened? You said something about 王冰 before, but..."

米粒's smile tightened. "I don't want to talk about the details right now. But let's just say, I found out that he wasn't the person I thought he was. And in that moment, I realized that the only people I truly trust, the only people who have always been there for me... are you. All of you."

杨梅 burst into tears, throwing herself at 米粒 and wrapping her arms around her. "I love you, 米粒. I love you so much. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

沈蕾 joined the hug, her own tears streaming freely. "We love you too. We'll never keep secrets from you again. I promise."

徐颖 hesitated, then slowly, she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the group. She didn't say anything, but the gesture spoke louder than words.

The four of them sat there, tangled together in a messy, tear-stained embrace, the snacks forgotten on the floor. The clock on the wall ticked past curfew, but none of them cared. For the first time in weeks, the air in 306 felt clean, light, free of the tension that had been choking it.

They pulled apart eventually, wiping their eyes and laughing at each other's puffy faces. 沈蕾 opened a bag of chips, and the conversation turned lighter, easier. They talked about summer plans, about the silly things that had happened during exams, about which professors were the most unreasonable. Slowly, the laughter returned, filling the room with a warmth that felt like coming home.

徐颖 lay back on her elbows, looking up at the ceiling. "I told him, you know. 李默. That I liked him."

米粒 looked at her, her expression calm. "I know. He told me."

"He did?" 徐颖's cheeks flushed. "I thought... I thought he might be upset."

"No," 米粒 said softly. "He wasn't upset. He was just... he was confused. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He's too nice for his own good."

杨梅 sighed, hugging a pillow to her chest. "What are we going to do about him? He's not going to choose. He's going to try to make everyone happy and end up making everyone miserable."

沈蕾 giggled. "That does sound like him, doesn't it?"

米粒 smiled, a twinkle in her eye. "Then maybe we don't make him choose. Maybe we don't force him to pick one of us. Maybe we just... share him."

The room went quiet. 徐颖 sat up, her eyebrows raised. "Share him? Like... literally?"

米粒 laughed, shaking her head. "I don't know what it would look like. But I know that I don't want to lose any of you. And I don't want him to lose any of us either. He's been through so much already. The mess with 墨兰. The weight he's been carrying. He deserves to be surrounded by people who love him, not people who are fighting over him."

杨梅's eyes were wide. "Would he even be okay with that? He's so... introverted. Awkward."

"He'd probably faint," 沈蕾 said, snorting. "But in a good way."

徐颖's lips curled into a thoughtful smile. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

米粒 nodded. "I am. I've thought about it a lot. And I think... I think it could work. If we're all honest. If we all communicate. If we all support each other."

沈蕾 leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "So we're going to be like... a sisterhood? But for 李默?"

米粒 laughed. "Something like that."

杨梅 grinned, her earlier tears forgotten. "I like it. I really like it. It's weird, but it's beautiful."

徐颖 raised her soda can. "Then let's make a pact. From now on, we're all in this together. No lies. No secrets. Just us and him."

The others raised their cans, clinking them together in the dim light of the room. "To us," they said in unison.

They were still laughing, still talking, when the door to the dormitory creaked open. 张慧 stepped in, a book in her hand and a gentle smile on her face. She took in the scene—the four girls sprawled on the floor, the remains of the snack feast, the tear-streaked but happy faces—and her expression softened.

"Looks like I missed quite the party," she said, her voice warm.

沈蕾 waved her over. "Come join us! We're making a pact!"

张慧 raised an eyebrow, but she set down her book and joined the circle, sitting cross-legged beside 杨梅. "A pact? For what?"

"To love 李默 together," 杨梅 said, her voice bright. "Without fighting. Without secrets."

张慧's eyes flickered with something—not jealousy, not resentment, but a quiet, understanding tenderness. She looked at 米粒, and their gazes met. There was no challenge in 张慧's eyes. Instead, there was a silent acknowledgment, a shared knowledge of the depth of their feelings.

"That sounds wonderful," 张慧 said softly. "He's lucky to have all of you."

米粒 reached out and squeezed 张慧's hand. "We're lucky to have each other too."

张慧's smile widened, and she settled in, letting herself be swept up in the easy rhythm of the conversation. She didn't say much, but her presence felt like a balm, a quiet anchor in the storm of laughter and chatter.

As the night deepened, the dormitory lights flickered and then went out, plunging the room into darkness. For a moment, there was silence. Then, a beam of light flicked on—沈蕾's phone flashligh

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# Chapter 15

The end-of-semester exam period had finally passed, leaving behind a campus that felt lighter, as if the oppressive weight of textbooks and late-night study sessions had been lifted into the June sky. I sat in my dorm room, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily above me, casting shifting shadows across the walls. Tomorrow would be the class dinner—the last gathering before everyone scattered for summer break.

Three days. Three days since I'd last seen Mili, and the absence felt like a hollow space in my chest that wouldn't fill no matter how much I breathed.

"Still moping?" Ren Bin's voice cut through my thoughts as he climbed down from his bunk. "Dude, you've got that lovesick expression again."

"I'm not lovesick."

"Right." He snorted, grabbing his towel. "And I'm the president of the student council."

I flipped him off half-heartedly, but he was already out the door, laughter trailing behind him.

The class dinner was held at a private room in a restaurant just off campus—one of those places that served passable hotpot and had enough round tables to seat forty people comfortably. By the time I arrived, most of my classmates were already there, the room buzzing with the energy of people ready to celebrate their freedom.

I found a seat near the edge of the room, where I could observe without being fully drawn into conversations. It was a habit I'd developed over the past year—keeping to the edges, watching others live their lives while I remained stuck in my own head.

"Li Mo, you're here!" Yang Mei's voice came from my left, and I turned to see her approaching with a bright smile. She was dressed simply—a white blouse and a knee-length skirt—but there was something about the way she moved now that caught my attention. A certain confidence in her step, a softening in her features.

She sat down beside me, and I noticed the way her skirt rode up just slightly, revealing the edge of sheer nude stockings. My mouth went dry.

"Did you get enough to eat?" she asked, her voice carrying that familiar, slightly childish tone that had become endearingly hers. "I saved a spot near the dipping sauces if you want."

"I'm fine," I managed.

She leaned in closer, her shoulder brushing against mine. "You look tired. Did you sleep okay?"

The concern in her eyes was genuine—there was no pretense, no game. Just a girl who had somehow come to care about me, despite everything. Despite the way I'd treated her during that first encounter, despite the complicated mess of emotions I'd brought into her life.

Before I could answer, the room's atmosphere shifted. Conversations dimmed, heads turned, and I followed the collective gaze to the entrance.

Mili stood there, framed by the doorway like a painting come to life.

She was wearing a simple white sundress—the same one she'd worn the day I first fixed her computer in the dorm. Her long hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders, and the light from the restaurant's chandeliers caught the subtle shine of her sheer nude stockings. She looked... innocent. Pure. The kind of girl who made you believe in love at first sight.

But there was something different about her now. A certain awareness in the way she held herself, a flicker of something knowing in her eyes. She wasn't the same girl who had nervously asked me to come to her dorm room three months ago.

Beside her, Zhang Hui and Shen Lei flanked her like protective sisters, and I spotted Xu Ying trailing behind them, her dark hair tied back in a ponytail, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Wow," Ren Bin whispered from somewhere behind me. "The whole squad showed up."

My heart hammered against my ribs as Mili's gaze swept the room and landed on me. For a moment, time seemed to stop. She smiled—a small, private thing meant only for me—and then she turned to find a seat with her classmates.

The dinner proceeded with the usual chaos of university gatherings—toasts and jokes, embarrassing stories about professors, the inevitable arguments over who had failed which class. But I was barely present, my attention split between Yang Mei beside me and Mili across the room.

It happened halfway through the meal. Mili stood up, balancing a plate of fruit, and made her way toward our side of the table. She settled into the empty seat next to Yang Mei with a grace that seemed almost rehearsed.

"Yang Mei," she said, her voice soft and warm. "How have you been?"

Yang Mei's cheeks flushed slightly. "I've been good. Busy with exams."

The two of them began to talk, and I found myself caught in the middle, an unwilling participant in a conversation that felt charged with an energy I couldn't quite name.

"You know," Mili said, picking at a piece of watermelon, "I still remember the first time Li Mo came to our dorm room. He was so nervous, he almost tripped over the doorframe."

Yang Mei laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "Really? He always seems so serious."

"Serious? He was a mess." Mili's eyes glinted with amusement. "Shen Lei had to practically drag him in. He kept staring at the floor like he was afraid to look up."

"Probably because he was too busy staring at your legs," Yang Mei said, and then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide.

A beat of silence.

And then Mili burst out laughing, the sound drawing glances from nearby tables. "Oh my god, you're not wrong. He absolutely was."

I felt my face burn, but there was no malice in their laughter. It was teasing, yes, but affectionate. The kind of ribbing that came from familiarity, from shared secrets.

"I think that's the first time I've seen him blush," Yang Mei said, elbowing me gently.

"It won't be the last," Mili replied, her voice dropping to something more serious. "He blushes a lot when he's caught doing something he shouldn't."

The unspoken words hung in the air between them—a reference to things I'd rather not discuss in public. But instead of tension, I saw understanding pass between the two girls. A recognition of something shared, something that bound them together in ways I was only beginning to understand.

"Can we please change the subject?" I muttered.

"No," they said in unison, and then dissolved into giggles.

I watched them—Mili with her pure, innocent beauty that now held hints of something deeper, and Yang Mei with her guileless charm that had somehow remained untouched despite everything. They were similar enough to be sisters, yet completely different in ways that defied simple comparison.

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of conversation and laughter. By the time we stumbled out of the restaurant, the night air cool against my heated skin, I felt lighter than I had in weeks.

---

The morning of departure dawned bright and clear, the sun hanging low in a sky streaked with pale clouds. I stood outside the male dormitory, my duffel bag slung over one shoulder, waiting for Ren Bin to finish his last-minute packing.

The campus was quiet, most students having already left in the first wave of departures. The few remaining stragglers moved about with the lazy pace of people who had nowhere urgent to be.

I was lost in thought when I heard it—a chorus of female voices, carrying across the courtyard like wind chimes.

I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat.

They were walking toward me in a loose line, five figures silhouetted against the morning sun. Xu Ying led the group, her long legs eating up the distance with confident strides. Behind her came Shen Lei, her arm linked with Zhang Hui's, the two of them deep in conversation. Yang Mei trailed slightly behind, her phone held up, presumably taking photos of the campus one last time.

And at the back, bringing up the rear with a gentle smile on her face, was Mili.

They were all dressed casually—jeans and tops, sneakers and flats—but to me, they looked like an army of angels descending from heaven. No conflict. No tension. Just five girls who had somehow found common ground, their laughter and conversation blending into a harmony that seemed almost too perfect to be real.

"Good morning, Li Mo!" Xu Ying called out, waving with exaggerated enthusiasm.

"You're here early," Shen Lei added, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Couldn't wait to get rid of us?"

"More like he couldn't wait to see us off," Zhang Hui corrected, a sly grin spreading across her face.

I shook my head, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at my lips. "How did you all end up together?"

"Girls' intuition," Xu Ying said mysteriously. "We decided you deserved a proper send-off."

"We also wanted to make sure you didn't run away without saying goodbye properly," Mili added, stepping forward. Her voice was gentle, but there was a firmness beneath it that reminded me of the promise she'd made.

The walk to the train station was a slow, meandering affair. We took the long route, winding through the campus's main pathways, past the library where I'd spent countless hours avoiding my problems, past the sports field where I'd watched Mili practice for her physical education classes, past the small convenience store where I'd bought my first pack of cigarettes in months.

The girls talked among themselves, the conversation flowing easily from topic to topic—summer plans, shopping trips, gossip about classmates who had already left. Every now and then, one of them would loop me into the discussion, asking about my hometown, my family, what I planned to do over the break.

It was surreal. A month ago, I'd been a broken mess, drowning in self-pity and toxic desire. Now here I was, walking through a sun-drenched campus with five beautiful women who seemed to genuinely care about my well-being.

The train station was busy with travelers, students and families and businesspeople all moving in different directions. The noise was a dull roar in my ears as we pushed through the crowds, finding a spot near the platform where I could wait for my train.

"Okay, group hug," Xu Ying announced, and before I could protest, I found myself enveloped in a tangle of arms and perfume and soft laughter.

"Take care of yourself, Li Mo," Shen Lei said, pulling back first. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Text us when you get home," Zhang Hui added. "I'm serious. We'll form a search party if you don't."

Yang Mei was last, her embrace tentative but warm. "I'll miss you," she whispered, so softly I almost didn't catch it.

And then they were gone, retreating to a nearby bench to give Mili and me space.

The platform was crowded with people, but in that moment, it felt like we were the only two in the world. Mili stood before me, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes searching mine.

She reached up, her fingers brushing against the collar of my shirt as she straightened it. The gesture was so intimate, so domestic, that my chest ached.

"Li Mo," she said, her voice barely audible over the station noise. "This summer, I want you to rest. Really rest. Forget about all the things that happened this semester—the bad parts, at least."

"Mili—"

"Let me finish." She placed a finger against my lips, silencing me. "When we come back for sophomore year, I'm going to give you a proper answer. About us. About everything."

My heart stopped.

"But you have to promise me something." Her eyes hardened, just slightly. "Promise me you won't hurt yourself anymore. No more drinking alone, no more pushing people away, no more treating yourself like you're worthless."

The words hit me like a physical blow. How did she know? I'd been so careful, so meticulous about hiding the worst parts of myself.

"I see more than you think," she said softly, as if reading my thoughts. "I've been watching you, Li Mo. I know you better than you know yourself."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I nodded, a jerky motion that felt inadequate for the weight of what she was asking.

"Good." She smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through clouds. "That's all I needed to

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The first time I stepped into the girls' dormitory building, my heart was pounding so hard I thought the security auntie at the front desk could hear it.

"Room 512," Shen Lei said, waving a keycard in front of my face. "Don't get lost, tech guy."

I took the keycard from her, my fingers brushing against hers for a fraction of a second. She didn't seem to notice. She was too busy scrolling through her phone, probably texting someone about the guy who was about to fix her broken laptop.

"Third floor and above is girls only," she added without looking up. "Auntie knows you're coming, so don't worry."

I nodded, gripping my backpack straps tighter. Inside, I had a bootable USB drive, a screwdriver set, and a spare SSD I'd salvaged from an old desktop back in my dorm. The usual toolkit for a guy who'd spent his high school years learning how to fix computers because it was the only thing that kept his mind off the girl who broke his heart.

The stairwell smelled like laundry detergent and something floral, probably someone's air freshener or body spray. I kept my head down, counting the steps to calm my nerves. 512. Fifth floor. Two doors down from the stairwell.

I knocked.

The door swung open, and Mi Li stood there in shorts and a loose T-shirt, her hair tied up in a messy bun. She smiled, and something in my chest tightened.

"Hey, you're here. Shen Lei said you'd come." She stepped aside, gesturing me in. "The laptop's on my desk. It's been acting up all week—random blue screens, freezing for no reason."

I walked past her, trying not to notice the way her bare legs looked in the dim light of the room. The room was small but tidy—three beds against the walls, a shared desk under the window, and a row of cabinets near the door. Shen Lei's bed was the one closest to the window, covered in a mess of clothes and books. Zhang Hui's was next to it, neatly made with a pastel pink comforter.

Mi Li's laptop sat on the desk, an older model with a dent in the corner. I sat down, plugged in my USB, and started working.

She hovered behind me, close enough that I could smell her shampoo. Something fruity, maybe peach.

"Do you want some water?" she asked.

"I'm fine."

"Tea? I have jasmine."

"Really, I'm fine."

She laughed, a soft sound that made my ears feel hot. "You're so serious. It's just a laptop, not brain surgery."

I didn't answer. I was too focused on the screen, on the lines of code I was running to check for disk errors. But part of me—a part I hated—was focused on the fact that her bare feet were right there, resting against the edge of my chair.

I shook my head and forced myself to look at the screen.

The laptop was infected with some kind of malware, probably from one of those sketchy download sites. I cleaned it up, ran a few more checks, and reinstalled a couple of drivers. The whole thing took about forty minutes.

Mi Li sat on her bed the whole time, scrolling through her phone, occasionally asking me questions about what I was doing. I answered in short sentences, keeping my voice flat.

"All done," I said finally, closing the laptop. "Should be fine now. If it acts up again, just call me."

She smiled again, and I noticed for the first time that she had dimples. "Thanks, Li Mo. How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing. It's just a favor."

She tilted her head, studying me. "You're really nice. Shen Lei said you're good at this stuff, but I didn't think you'd come all the way here for free."

"It's not a big deal."

I packed up my stuff and stood, but Zhang Hui walked in just as I was about to leave.

She was wearing a knee-length skirt and a fitted top, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. Her eyes flickered to me, then to Mi Li, then back to me.

"Oh, the tech guy's here," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Did you fix Mi Li's laptop?"

"Yeah."

"Good. My computer's been acting up too. Maybe you can take a look sometime."

I nodded, already heading for the door. But I caught a glimpse of her feet before I left—bare, with a thin gold anklet that caught the light.

The next day, Shen Lei texted me.

> "Mi Li's laptop is working perfectly now. She's really grateful. Wants to buy you dinner."

I stared at the message for a long time before replying.

> "Not necessary. Just doing my job."

> "She insists. Don't be a jerk."

I sighed and typed back.

> "Fine."

But dinner with Mi Li never happened. Instead, I ended up in their dorm again three days later, this time to fix Zhang Hui's computer.

She was waiting for me when I arrived, sitting cross-legged on her bed in a pair of shorts that showed off her long legs. She had a pair of sheer black stockings on, the kind that shimmered slightly in the light.

"Thanks for coming," she said, her voice casual. "It's just been running really slow lately. I think there's too much stuff on the hard drive."

I sat down at her desk and started working, but my gaze kept drifting to her feet. They were small and neat, the stockings hugging her toes and the curve of her arch perfectly. When she shifted her weight, the fabric rustled softly.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. Fine."

I focused on the screen, running a cleanup script and checking for unnecessary startup programs. She watched me work, her eyes sharp, observant.

"Mi Li said you're from Y City," she said.

"Yeah."

"I'm from Jiangsu. The weather here is so much hotter."

"It's okay."

"I bet you get a lot of girls asking you to fix their computers."

I paused. "Not really. Just friends of friends."

She laughed, a light tinkling sound. "You're so modest. Shen Lei said you're the only guy in your department who actually knows how to code properly."

I didn't answer. I was too busy trying to ignore the way her foot was tapping against the floor, the way the stockings stretched and relaxed with each movement.

"I'm almost done," I said.

"Take your time. I don't have anywhere to be."

She didn't move, just kept watching me with that amused look in her eyes. When I finally closed her laptop and stood up, she said, "You should come by more often. We could use a tech guy around here."

"I'll think about it."

I left quickly, my heart hammering in my chest.

Over the next two weeks, I became a regular visitor to Room 512.

First, it was Shen Lei's laptop. Then Mi Li's desktop monitor. Then Yang Mei—a small girl with a baby face and a soft voice—needed help setting up her printer. Each visit was the same: I would walk in, sit down, and work in silence while the girls chatted around me.

But Mi Li's presence was different.

She was always there, hovering in the background, offering me tea or snacks. Sometimes she would sit on her bed, her legs tucked under her, and scroll through her phone. Other times she would lie on her stomach, her feet dangling off the edge of the bed, and I would catch myself staring at the way her toes curled when she was focused on something.

She wore stockings almost every time I saw her.

Black, nude, opaque, sheer—it didn't matter. They were always there, hugging her legs, catching the light, brushing against my chair when she walked past.

I told myself it was nothing. Just a coincidence. She liked wearing stockings, that was all. It didn't mean anything.

But the more I saw her, the harder it became to ignore.

I started remembering that night in high school.

It was the autumn of my senior year, and the air was crisp with the promise of winter. I was waiting for Mo Lan by the school gates, my backpack heavy with books I'd borrowed from her.

She was late, as usual.

When she finally appeared, she was walking with Hu Sheng—my desk mate, the quiet kid who never talked to anyone. They were laughing about something, their heads close together.

I felt a knot tighten in my stomach.

"Hey," I said, stepping forward. "You ready?"

Mo Lan looked at me, her smile faltering. "Oh, right. The books."

She handed them to me without meeting my eyes. Hu Sheng stood behind her, his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at me.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

"Wait, can we talk?"

She hesitated. "It's late, Li Mo. I need to get home."

I watched them walk away—her with her head down, him with his sheepish grin—and I felt something cold settle in my chest.

We never talked about it. She never explained why she started avoiding me, why she stopped taking my calls, why she started dating Hu Sheng two weeks before the college entrance exams.

I never asked.

I didn't want to know the answer.

I blinked, the memory fading.

I was back in Room 512, staring at Mi Li's feet. She was sitting on her bed, her legs crossed, wearing a pair of navy blue stockings that shimmered under the fluorescent light.

"Li Mo?"

I jerked my gaze up. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay? You zoned out for a second."

"I'm fine. Just thinking about something."

She tilted her head, studying me with those big, earnest eyes. "You look tired. When did you last sleep properly?"

"I sleep fine."

"You don't. I can tell."

I didn't know what to say to that.

She stood up, walked over to the desk, and handed me a cup of tea. "Drink this. It's jasmine. It'll help you relax."

I took it, my fingers brushing against hers. She didn't pull away.

"Thanks," I said.

She smiled. "You're always welcome here, Li Mo. I mean it."

I stayed until the tea was gone, and when I left, my heart felt heavier than before.

The next day, Zhang Hui called me again.

"Can you come over? My laptop's acting up again."

I knew it was a lie. There was nothing wrong with her laptop. But I went anyway.

She was waiting for me in a skirt that ended mid-thigh, her legs bare except for a pair of sheer pantyhose. She walked me to the desk, her heels clicking softly against the floor.

I sat down and pretended to work while she hovered behind me.

"Is it fixed yet?" she asked, her voice teasing.

"Almost."

But I wasn't working. I was listening to the sound of her breathing, the rustle of her stockings as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"You know," she said, leaning in close, "you can look."

I froze.

"Look at what?"

"My legs. You've been staring at them all week."

The blood drained from my face. "I wasn't—"

"It's okay," she said, her voice soft, almost conspiratorial. "I don't mind."

She walked around to the front of the desk, leaned against it, and crossed her legs. The pantyhose stretched tight over her knees, and I could see the faint line of her tan through the sheer fabric.

"Go ahead," she said. "Tell me what you see."

I couldn't speak.

She laughed, a low, throaty sound. "You're cute when you're flustered."

I scrambled to my feet, grabbing my backpack. "I have to go."

"Leaving so soon?"

"I—I'll come back tomorrow. To finish the computer."

I ran out of the room, down the stairs, and into the cool evening air. My hands were shaking.

I knew then that something had changed. Something I couldn't control.

I walked back to my dorm in a daze, trying to forget the way her legs looked in that dim light.

But I couldn't forget.

I couldn't forget Mi Li's smile, or the way her toes curled when she was happy.

I couldn't forget the sound of Zhang Hui's stockings rubbing together as she walked.