Morning Routine and an Unsettling Gaze

Zhou Yi leaned against the door for two more seconds, slowly straightening up.

The dull ache in his lower abdomen persisted; it had been coming and going for several days now.

Staring at the tile grout, he thought, ‘Maybe… I should find time to go to the hospital and get it checked out?’

But his schedule for the next week, filled with classes and part-time work, was tighter than a subway train.

With the sports meet on Friday, where would he find the time?

“Forget it,” he muttered. “I’ll just tough it out for two more days.”

****

Monday morning arrived, bringing with it the unyielding 8 AM class.

Sunlight streamed diagonally through the teaching building’s blinds, illuminating dust motes dancing slowly in the air.

Half the classroom drowsed, while the other half furiously scribbled, catching up on reports unfinished over the weekend.

Zhou Yi, his face still heavy with sleep, shuffled into the classroom alongside Jiang Chen, an unopened bread still clutched in his hand.

“Tsk, this is truly a regression of human civilization,” he grumbled, punctuating his words with a colossal yawn.

He couldn’t be entirely blamed.

A sudden, excruciating stomach pain last night had caused him to miss the final thrilling climax of the Doran Championship.

Furious, he had forced himself to watch the entire replay of the finals.

Still not satisfied, he had then dragged Jiang Chen into a late-night gaming session to review the match, and Jiang Chen, caught up in the excitement, pulled Chen Hao, who was online, into their party as well.

The three of them had battled fiercely in Summoner’s Rift until the sky outside the window was already faintly lit when they finally, reluctantly, shut down their computers.

Now, retribution had surely arrived.

An inexplicable fatigue deepened within Zhou Yi, making him feel utterly sluggish, and the subtle, distending pain in his abdomen began to act up again.

He figured that after class, he absolutely had to go to the infirmary for some gastrointestinal medicine; otherwise, he truly wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Jiang Chen turned around and poked Zhou Yi’s forehead. “Then don’t be a genius and stumble into class like this,” he teased. “You’re making human civilization regress with your sleepiness.”

“Whose fault is that?” Zhou Yi managed to lift his eyelids, glaring weakly. “If you hadn’t insisted on picking Yasuo in that last game last night, would we have been reverse-swept until three in the morning?”

“…Cough.” Jiang Chen gave a tactical cough, feigning indifference as he averted his gaze.

He had originally planned to tease Zhou Yi further, perhaps with a jab like, ‘Noobs don’t deserve to sleep early.’

But when his gaze fell upon his roommate’s eyes, red-rimmed with exhaustion, the teasing words caught in his throat.

Silently, he shoved his right hand into his pocket, clenching it into a fist with all his might.

This inexplicable impulse had become increasingly frequent lately, like a rising tide repeatedly crashing against the defenses of his reason.

And lately, for some reason, he kept feeling that Zhou Yi looked increasingly delicate? Increasingly… like that person?

Despite Zhou Yi’s recorded height, his entire presence felt as if he had shrunk, and even his originally well-defined face seemed to have become more refined, his jawline noticeably softer.

Suddenly, Zhou Yi’s profile as he yawned gradually overlapped with a blurry, faceless shadow deep within Jiang Chen’s memory.

Jiang Chen frowned, a wave of inexplicable irritation rising within him. He found himself increasingly confused.

“What are you looking at?” Zhou Yi lifted his head, half a bread roll still in his mouth, speaking indistinctly.

“Nothing,” Jiang Chen quickly turned his head away, pretending to swipe on his phone to conceal his momentary daze.

“You’re crazy,” Zhou Yi mumbled. Just as he swallowed the last bite of his bread, an untimely spasm shot through his abdomen, causing him to wince.

The classroom gradually filled, though the projector on the podium remained off.

Students gathered in small groups, some gossiping, others scrolling through the campus forum.

Zhou Yi glanced around and spotted Chen Hao sprawled across a desk in the last row, sleeping so deeply that he was even emitting faint snores.

Zhou Yi narrowed his eyes, instantly recalling Chen Hao’s “feed-worthy” plays in last night’s team fight—specifically, three consecutive flashes that gifted the enemy kills, all while passionately shouting in voice chat, “Don’t panic, I can turn this around!”

“You’re certainly enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Zhou Yi’s lips twitched, and he let out an exasperated chuckle.

He rolled up his sleeves, walked over, and expertly flicked Chen Hao’s fluffy head with a resounding ‘thwack’ of his bent finger.

A crisp ‘dong’ echoed.

Chen Hao mumbled in his sleep, “Stop it…” He merely shifted, attempting to continue his nap.

“Still not awake?” Zhou Yi raised an eyebrow, immediately applying a playful chokehold. ‘Who was it last night who swore they’d carry us? And then proceeded to feed ten times at the start, right?’

Chen Hao was shaken into a daze, finally lifting his head groggily.

Reflected in his blurry vision was a fair, delicate face, with morning light dancing on fluttering eyelashes, and cheeks flushed red with irritation like peach blossoms in early spring.

He froze for two seconds, then, with sleepy eyes, blurted out:

“Huh? Beautiful lady, are you…”

Zhou Yi smacked him directly on the back of his head.

“Beautiful lady, my foot! Are you still dreaming? Look closely, this ‘master’ is your Yi-ge!”

“Holy crap!”

That slap finally jolted Chen Hao back to reality.

He rubbed his eyes, focused, and instantly froze with embarrassment.

“Yi-ge, why is it you…? I-I just wasn’t fully awake yet…”

“Holy crap?”

Zhou Yi stood with his hands on his hips, a look of disdain on his face. “I should have recorded your plays last night. ‘Turnaround Bro’ giving an online tutorial on how to feed!”

“Don’t even mention it, don’t even mention it,” Chen Hao said, rubbing his head and yawning. “That was a tactical feed, to lure the enemy in deep, understand?”

“Lure your head in.”

Zhou Yi kicked his chair leg. “You charged straight under their turret three times in a row—you call that luring the enemy? I suspect you spilled cat food on your keyboard.”

“Alright, alright, my bad, my bad!” Chen Hao pleaded, pressing his palms together. Yet, he couldn’t resist another glance at Zhou Yi’s flushed, irritated face. “Next time, I’ll definitely carry the whole team, I swear!”

Zhou Yi rolled his eyes and, with an exasperated huff, kicked Chen Hao’s chair again. “If you screw me over in another team fight, I’ll make you experience ‘landing in a box’ in real life.”

“Mercy, great king!”

Chen Hao clasped his hands over his head in a pleading gesture, though his eyes darted mischievously. “This humble one will immediately go into seclusion for intense training, striving to emerge and carry the entire team soon!”

Seeing his ‘sincere’ attitude, Zhou Yi finally crossed his arms with satisfaction. The morning light danced on his lowered eyelashes, outlining the delicate contours of his profile.

Chen Hao suddenly jolted upright, blinking, all sleepiness vanished.

“Wait a minute… Yi-ge, have you been secretly spending money on skins lately? Your skin condition is really… getting better and better.”

As he spoke, he reached out to touch Zhou Yi’s cheek. “Let me check if you’ve got a beauty filter on.”

This remark conveniently covered up his earlier embarrassment of mistaking Zhou Yi for a girl.

Jiang Chen had been leaning on his arm, watching the pair’s usual antics with a relaxed air.

But the moment Chen Hao’s fingers were about to make contact with Zhou Yi’s cheek,

a sudden, inexplicable surge of irritation flared within him. He almost instinctively leaned forward slightly, nearly raising his hand to swat away that ‘perverted’ hand.

“Looking for trouble, are we?” Zhou Yi had already swatted away the offending hand, his face darkening as he sat back in his seat.

“Complain again, and I’ll sell your equipment next time.”

Chen Hao sheepishly retracted his hand, rubbing his reddened knuckles, and muttered softly:

“Touching it won’t drop your frame rate, no need to be so stingy.”

He quickly scrambled back to his seat as Zhou Yi raised his textbook, poised to strike.

Meanwhile, Jiang Chen, standing nearby, felt his fingertips tingle, startled by the intense jealousy that had just surged through him.

He had actually wanted to twist Chen Hao’s restless wrist clean off? This almost primal possessiveness made cold sweat break out on his back.

Just then, the sunlight from outside streamed through the blinds, casting a diagonal glow on Zhou Yi’s profile, coating his delicate skin in a layer of pale gold, making even the tiny hairs along the edge of his earlobe clearly visible.

That familiar throb once again swelled in his heart, spreading from his chest all the way to his fingertips, making him almost uncontrollably want to reach out and touch that light-kissed skin.

He forcibly suppressed this absurd impulse, hastily averting his gaze.

‘I must be going crazy lately, seeing beauty in a mere roommate.’

Zhou Yi, completely oblivious to the complex gaze beside him, was propping his chin with one hand, battling valiantly against the overwhelming tide of sleepiness.

The teacher’s voice faded into the distance, gradually becoming a blurred background hum, causing his eyelids to droop lower and lower.

He groggily endured two classes, only to be jolted awake from his stupor when the dismissal bell rang, rubbing his slightly numb arms.

Just as he stood up and stretched, the dull ache in his abdomen returned without warning. He instinctively pressed his stomach and told Jiang Chen beside him:

“I’m going to the infirmary. I probably ate something bad.”

Jiang Chen saw his pale face and reached out to support his arm. “You look so unwell. Should I go with you?”

“It’s really fine,” Zhou Yi forced a smile. “It’s just the next building over, a five-minute walk.”

He shrugged off the support and walked directly towards the classroom door.