015 Do You Like
Zeng Keqin stood at the living room hallway, her cheeks slightly flushed, her expression serious. "It's not easy to find a hotel at this hour."
Jiang Shiyu's Adam's apple bobbed. "No need. It's easier for me to stay at a hotel."
"One room each, no interference."
With that, she turned and fled back to the bedroom.
Jiang Shiyu watched her retreating figure, his hand on the door handle tightening then loosening, loosening then tightening.
Finally, he let go and returned to his own room.
Hearing the door across the way close, Zeng Keqin breathed a sigh of relief. Her eyes fell on the pristine bed, and a more awkward problem suddenly hit her.
Her clothes had been steeped in the smoke from KTV and the barbecue stall all night, reeking of smoke. If she slept in them, she'd be uncomfortable all night.
But if she showered, she had no change of clothes. As she hesitated, a knock came at the door.
Zeng Keqin immediately turned and pressed against the door, her voice tinged with caution. "What is it?"
"I have a shirt I hardly wore. Not sure if you need it."
She hesitated, then opened the door.
Jiang Shiyu stood there, holding a neatly folded black T-shirt.
"Thanks."
She reached out and took it. The fabric was soft, with a faint scent of soap.
"You're welcome. Let me know if you need anything else."
He turned and went back to his room without lingering.
Zeng Keqin looked at the T-shirt in her hands, waiting until the sound of his door closing before stepping into the bathroom.
On the sink was a brand-new toothbrush and toothpaste, disposable paper cups, and even wet wipes, all prepared.
She paused. It was strange—during the day she was in the dorm, and now she was in Jiang Shiyu's place. And he seemed different from what she had imagined: seemingly unreliable, but actually quite considerate and thorough.
With that thought, she turned on the shower, letting hot water wash over her from head to toe, instantly relieving most of her fatigue.
After showering, she dried her hair with a hairdryer, put on her inner clothes, then slipped into the black T-shirt, rolling up the sleeves twice. She opened the bathroom door.
Jiang Shiyu emerged from the kitchen opposite, holding a glass of water.
They came face to face.
He froze.
Zeng Keqin's hair wasn't fully dry; slightly damp ends clung to her neck, with a few stray strands hanging at her temples. Her skin looked especially fair under the light, her cheeks faintly flushed from the shower. The black T-shirt hung loosely on her, the wide neckline revealing a hint of collarbone.
Jiang Shiyu's hand tightened around the glass. His Adam's apple moved. He quickly averted his gaze.
"The shirt... seems a bit big."
"Yeah."
A little embarrassed, Zeng Keqin raised a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Thanks for the shirt."
"You're welcome."
He stepped aside to let her pass.
Zeng Keqin walked past him, carrying the scent of shampoo.
It was the same brand he used—his signature scent—but now it wafted from her.
Jiang Shiyu stood there dazed until she entered the bedroom before snapping out of it.
He turned, walked to the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of iced water. He downed half of it in one go, finally dousing the heat rising inside him.
The next morning at seven, Zeng Keqin opened her eyes precisely. A beam of white light streamed through the curtain gap.
She changed into her own clothes, smoothed out the sheets and blanket, and placed the folded T-shirt at the head of the bed.
Everything in order, she left the bedroom.
The door across the hall was still closed.
From her bag, she took out a pen and a sticky note, leaned over the dining table to write a message, then went to the entrance, put on her shoes, and left, closing the door behind her.
But no sooner had the door shut than another door opened.
Jiang Shiyu stood in the doorway, his hair a bit messy, faint dark circles under his eyes—as if he hadn't slept well.
He walked to the table and picked up the note:
"The shirt is folded and placed at the head of the bed. Thanks. To avoid unnecessary trouble, please keep this confidential."
"Confidential?"
Jiang Shiyu let out a soft laugh, crumpling the note in his hand, then smoothed it out again, folded it neatly, and put it in his pocket.
The early morning neighborhood was quiet, the air cool and moist with dew. Seniors were doing their morning exercises, occasionally a few crisp bird chirps. A breeze carried the fragrance of gardenias—sweet, delicate—the scent of early summer.
When Zeng Keqin returned to the dorm, her roommate was still asleep. She tiptoed to the wardrobe, took out her work clothes, changed quickly, and rushed out.