May always insisted she wasn’t a frivolous girl—but faced with the undeniable fact that she was sharing a hotel room with Chen Yaoyi, she had no rebuttal. Hence, the knot of contradiction tightening in her chest.

Was she still the pure, self-respecting girl she believed herself to be?

Of course, she wouldn’t spiral into self-loathing over it. Still, a faint, stubborn guilt crept in unbidden. That was the heart of it.

Chen Yaoyi was in the shower—already ten minutes gone. Only in these quiet, solitary moments did May’s thoughts drift uncontrollably to Zhao Xiaoluo and Su Ziqing.

After all, she wasn’t Zhao Xiaoluo’s girlfriend, let alone his wife. She had no right to meddle. And truthfully, Zhao Xiaoluo wasn’t *hers* to begin with.

Liking someone meant nothing until you took that step. Without confession, there was no standing to judge.

So the girl in her white bathrobe flopped backward onto the bed, bitterly cursing her own cowardice.

If only she’d mustered the courage to confess directly to Zhao Xiaoluo—even rejection would’ve been easier to accept by now.

Zhao Xiaoluo was easily swayed. Once, teased by May’s friends about growing close to her, he’d unilaterally distanced himself. Thankfully, the misunderstanding cleared later—but the hurt remained. That’s why May kept what she called a “vegetarian’s reasonable distance”: no touch, just daily chats.

Foolish? Maybe. But to even speak with him, she dared not overstep.

Now, a girl had appeared who seemingly normalized physical closeness with him. Didn’t that make all Zhao Xiaoluo’s past shyness and hesitation around *her* feel utterly hollow?

*That* was why May was angry.

“If you truly thought he shouldn’t do those things, you should’ve just refused him properly!”

She’d ordered extra food thinking Chen Yaoyi might be hungry—some recommended dishes from room service.

After hanging up, she worried: Should she call home? It was past nine. Her family must be anxious. Call and fumble the explanation? Don’t call and leave them worried? May felt stuck.

In the end, she called—but first her best friend, asking her to cover, then her parents, claiming she was staying over.

Whether the clumsy lie was seen through, she couldn’t tell. Her mom simply said, “Okay,” without a single question.

Such swift acceptance left May flustered.

Anyway, after the call and warming up, she arranged the food on the table and sat quietly in a chair, waiting.

Behind the bathroom door, water splashed softly against tile. May tilted her head slightly, listening intently. This meaningless little act brought her unexpected comfort.

She kept listening until the water stopped. The moment a shadow appeared at the doorway, she hastily turned away, eyes fixed firmly on the food.

Chen Yaoyi’s century egg and minced pork congee had gone lukewarm; the seafood congee still steamed. But—*way* too many oysters? Plus an extra order of oyster vermicelli?

She *had* said “bring whatever’s available and not too pricey,” but she never meant to max out on “energy-boosting” dishes! And if Chen Yaoyi noticed… would he get the wrong idea?

“You didn’t run off, did you?”

His voice reached her before he did. Blushing, May turned toward the sound. There he was—wearing matching loungewear, walking slowly toward her.

He frowned the moment he reached her, pointing at her hair.

“Hey, it’s still damp.”

“N-no, it’s fine… I kinda like air-drying?”

(Truth was, blow-drying alone was too much hassle.)

“Nope. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Really, I’m— Hey! Don’t pull my robe! I’m not wearing a bra! You pervert!”

Her protest died instantly. Chen Yaoyi dragged her to the bed, grabbed the hairdryer, and aimed it gently at the back of her head.

She’d thought him rough-edged—but his movements were surprisingly careful, precise. *How is he this skilled?!*

Flustered, May muttered curses under her breath. He ignored every one.

“Even if you’re this nice to me… I won’t give you candy, you know…”

“You just—”

“Figures! Men always side with men! He’s the one who cheated on *me*, okay?!”

“You’re not his girlfriend. Until you confess, it’s all his freedom. Clear?”

“I don’t care! He’s still in the wrong!”

The hairdryer’s warm breeze soothed her; his measured touch deepened the comfort. Glancing at the table—and those oysters—May silently thanked her luck he hadn’t noticed. *I’ll hide them later.*

“But seriously—if *he’s* in the wrong, why should *you* feel guilty? Ordering oysters… what’s *that* supposed to mean, huh?”

His teasing words sent a shiver down her spine.

“Huh? What are you talking about…?”

She played dumb instantly.

“Come on! That many oysters? That smell? How could I *not* notice?”

He leaned in, switched off the dryer, and stared at her flushed ears.

“That’s—! That’s—! That’s because *this lady* wanted to eat them! Got a problem with that?!”