“Stop sleeping. This isn’t a blow-off class—get up.”
Liu Xie lightly patted Zhu Niao, who sat to her left, then did the same to Ye Qingchang on her right.
“I really can’t hold on any longer. How about I pretend to drop my pen and go pick it up?” Zhu Niao, who had worked a night shift until midnight, yawned deeply.
It was obvious that her hazy eyes were no longer able to focus on the teacher at the front of the classroom—whose face was now red not from enthusiasm, but clearly from discovering that most of the class was fast asleep.
“Oh, and while picking it up, you just accidentally spend the whole lecture on the floor, right?” Liu Xie, being a good roommate, knew Zhu Niao far too well.
“No, I’m planning to fall while picking it up and just happen to stay down the whole class.”
Zhu Niao gave her a big thumbs-up.
“You think the teacher’s gonna buy that when he sees you?” Liu Xie muttered, exasperated.
“Well, that’s a problem for after he sees me.”
Zhu Niao gestured at the floor.
Gou Yu had already taken off his jacket, folded it into a makeshift mat, and was sleeping peacefully beneath the desk.
Gou Yu hadn’t worked a night shift. He just naturally got sleepy during class—and couldn’t care less what people thought.
And as luck would have it, Zhu Niao was no different. Liu Xie watched as she casually slid to the floor. But since she didn’t have a jacket, the cold of the floor made her suck in a sharp breath.
Still, she tiptoed over and nestled into the empty spot on Gou Yu’s jacket, closing her eyes in a snug position with her back to him—absurdly intimate for a classroom floor.
Liu Xie couldn’t help but let out a snort of laughter through her nose.
Only her roommates would dare to do something like sleep under their seats in a massive lecture hall.
She glanced to her right at Ye Qingchang, took a deep breath, then grabbed her by the waist just as she, too, was trying to slink under the desk.
Caught by the collar, Ye Qingchang weakly struggled a bit before going limp like a puddle of melted jelly.
Liu Xie genuinely couldn’t understand why Ye Qingchang was dozing off during class. Usually, she was the most attentive one during lectures—and the only useful person when it came to doing homework.
“I’m not even gonna mention Zhu Niao pulling a night shift. But you went to bed the earliest in the dorm last night—how are you sleepy now?”
Ye Qingchang slumped over the desk, and then—thanks to the teacher’s passing glare—reluctantly propped up her head with one hand.
“I had insomnia.”
“Did your digital pet die?” Liu Xie made the boldest guess she could think of.
But it wasn’t bold enough.
“Worse than dying,” Ye Qingchang muttered, rubbing her sleek black hair in frustration. “Worse than if someone had killed me.”
She had found it odd from the start—why would that unreliable rookie goddess assign her a romantic mission with someone she barely knew, someone whose name she could hardly remember, just a random member of the literature club?
She was also very confused—why would a literature club member she barely interacted with remember her past identity as a boy?
After the club activity yesterday afternoon, she finally understood.
So that guy was actually the virtual pet she had been flirting with online for who knows how long.
Thinking about it now, it made perfect sense. Although they had never met in real life, they had chatted online like they were bonded for several lifetimes—how could that not count as a close relationship?
At the same time, she had no doubt that once her identity was exposed, the other party would absolutely tear her apart.
At this point, she had to admit that during those online chats, she might, possibly, perhaps, had been a little bit ambiguous… maybe even flirtatious.
If the other person saw her as an online lover, that wouldn’t be unreasonable. But she hadn’t expected them to hold on to that kind of unconditional trust even now.
If they had ever asked for a photo, the whole thing would have fallen apart.
Still, the situation was relatively stable for now. As long as she kept going with the flow, everything would be fine.
So yesterday, for the first time, she was asked for help by that very literature club member. Her strategy was: “get closer first, meet later.”
Unfortunately, the other person was treating her like Liu Shan following Zhuge Liang—doing whatever she said without question.
Today, he even shared a photo with her of himself sitting in the front row attentively during class, while everyone behind was sleeping.
In that same photo, she could see herself sleeping in the back row.
Until now, she hadn’t even realized that her loyal club member was from the neighboring class.
“What’s going on?” Liu Xie raised an eyebrow.
“Talk to your bro?”
“Will you help me?” Ye Qingchang looked at her like she was grasping at her last straw.
“Just say it. I won’t bother with small stuff, and I probably can’t help with big stuff,” Liu Xie said while patting her chest—causing a rather dramatic ripple.
Ye Qingchang was stunned. “Then what are you good for?”
“I’ll see if I can make it worse.”
Looking into Liu Xie’s sincere eyes, Ye Qingchang sighed.
“Sometimes I really am glad to have met you guys,” she said with a bitter laugh. “Not that it matters. I’ve already met you, damn it.”
After mentally organizing her words, Ye Qingchang spoke, “My virtual pet and my romance mission target are the same club member, and now—because of my stupidity—he’s starting to make moves on me.”
It was a very succinct and skillful summary.
After a few seconds of processing, Liu Xie understood the situation.
Stroking her chin, she thought for a bit and then said, “Serves you right.”
“Serves you right,” echoed Zhu Niao, who had gotten up from the floor.
She was pushing herself up by bracing an elbow against Gou Yu’s stomach, making him curl up in pain like a shrimp.
“You have to help me!” Ye Qingchang took off her glasses and put on a pitiful expression.
“Ew, disgusting,” Liu Xie immediately shook off her hand.
“You toyed with someone’s feelings—how is this not your fault?”
“If you truly like someone, you can’t hide it. But if you’re only pretending to like someone, then you have to hide it,” Zhu Niao commented with a very fair observation.
“You can’t just watch me crash and burn!” Ye Qingchang pleaded again, reaching out only to have her hand slapped away by Liu Xie.
“Even if we wanted to help you, you should know that this kind of thing will be exposed sooner or later—especially now that he’s already thinking about meeting up,” Liu Xie said, suddenly switching roles with Ye Qingchang and taking on the tone of a stern mentor.
“I still prefer the plot where Third gets exposed,” Zhu Niao said from the side, raising her hand.
And then promptly got called on by the teacher at the podium to answer a question.
Liu Xie glanced at Zhu Niao, who stood up like a mute without saying a single word, and then turned back to Ye Qingchang.
“So what you mean now is, you want to keep it hidden for as long as you can, right?”
Ye Qingchang nodded.
At that moment, the class bell and Ye Qingchang’s phone ringtone rang simultaneously.
From the other end of the call came the very voice Ye Qingchang least wanted to hear right now.
“President, could you wait for me outside the classroom after class? I brought something to thank you.”
Liu Xie and Zhu Niao then watched as Ye Qingchang walked out of the classroom like a brave warrior heading off to certain doom.
Feeling the moment, Zhu Niao even wanted to salute.
“Old Dog, your junior girl just messaged you,” Zhu Niao said, picking up Gou Yu’s phone that had lit up with a notification, effortlessly unlocking it with his password.
“I told you I’m super popular, didn’t I? Tons of girls are into me—you never believed me,” Gou Yu eagerly leaned over. “Let me see what she said?”
“The homeroom teacher asked you, as class sports rep, to compile a list of participants and events for the sports meet,” Zhu Niao said with a wicked grin as she scrolled.
Suddenly, she spotted a familiar profile picture.
“Wait, this one is…”
Breaking into a cold sweat, Gou Yu snatched the phone back in panic.
“Next time you report false info, you’re the first I’m chopping down!”
As the phone screen dimmed again, his heart was still pounding wildly.
That was close—Zhu Niao had almost opened his chat with his little sister.