The Masked Idol

Zhou Yi shook her head, settling back at her desk. She opened her laptop and immersed herself in the data and text on the screen.

The rhythmic click-clack of her keyboard echoed softly in the quiet dormitory.

Outside the window, the winter sky had already grown exceptionally dark.

The lock on the dormitory door clicked.

Jiang Chen pushed the door open and stepped inside. His gaze settled briefly on Zhou Yi, engrossed at her computer, her profile subtly taut with concentration, before calmly shifting away.

“Are you working on the list?”

“Mm.”

Jiang Chen didn’t press further. He walked to his desk, placed the supermarket bag he was carrying down, and pulled out several bags of chips and a few boxes of various flavored lozenges.

“If your throat isn’t feeling well, these might help.”

Zhou Yi stared, momentarily stunned, at the brightly packaged lozenges.

‘He… went out of his way to buy these?’

“I just picked them up at the supermarket,” Jiang Chen added casually, sensing her unspoken question.

She parted her lips, intending to say, ‘You shouldn’t have,’ or ‘It’s too much trouble.’

In the end, only a soft, “Thank you,” escaped her lips.

Jiang Chen offered no further words, simply turning back to his own desk.

She unwrapped a lozenge and let it dissolve in her mouth.

A cool mint flavor instantly spread through her mouth, carrying a hint of sweetness and a soothing sensation that permeated her throat.

‘It felt… as if it wasn’t so difficult anymore.’

She lowered her gaze, her long eyelashes concealing the complex emotions that had momentarily surged within her eyes.

****

The days continued to pass, neither rushed nor slow.

Zhou Yi took her medicine and rested on schedule, spending most of her time confined to the small area of her bed or desk, striving to be as inconspicuous as possible. With her mask on, even their conversations had become significantly shorter.

Jiang Chen, as she had wished, no longer proactively brought up meals. Instead, each day upon his return, he would casually place an extra portion of fruit or a hot drink on her desk. They would then both go about their business, as if nothing had happened between them.

Zhou Yi secretly observed Jiang Chen, noting that he seemed to have no particular reaction. He attended classes as usual, trained on the basketball court, and occasionally played games in the dorm to rank up.

The tight string in her heart gradually loosened. ‘It seems… I’m doing a decent job of hiding it?’ she thought. ‘He probably… really hasn’t noticed anything, has he?’

****

On Saturday morning, the air still carried the biting chill left by the night’s cold front.

Zhou Yi stood before the full-length mirror, making a final check of her “gear.”

A thick black mask was ‘welded’ to her face, completely covering the lower half and leaving only her eyes visible.

She wore a black hooded hoodie and equally loose dark cargo pants. The hoodie’s hood was pulled up to cover her head, and a dark grey scarf was wrapped three times around her neck.

The figure in the mirror resembled a moving duvet. Only a pair of clear, yet undeniably nervous, eyes remained, peeking out from the gap between the hood and the mask, flickering with unease.

The five-day quarantine period had ended. Today’s entrepreneurship class carried a significant credit weight, and though she still felt somewhat unwell, she had neither the reason nor the courage to ask for another leave of absence. She could only grit her teeth and attend.

Jiang Chen was already waiting at the door. His gaze swept over Zhou Yi’s fully-armored attire, finding it amusing, though his expression remained impassive. ‘She probably thinks this will be seamless,’ he mused.

“Alright.”

“Let’s go,” he said.

One after the other, they exited the dormitory building.

In the early winter morning campus, pedestrians were sparse. Yet, students who occasionally passed couldn’t help but cast a curious glance or two at Zhou Yi. After all, her attire was undeniably exaggerated for weather that wasn’t yet truly freezing.

Zhou Yi cast a quick glance at Jiang Chen but remained silent.

Jiang Chen, walking beside her, seemed completely oblivious to these gazes. His steps were as steady as ever, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Yet, his peripheral vision subtly, almost imperceptibly, lingered on the ‘duvet’ beside him.

The eyes exposed above the mask were wider than usual due to her intense nervousness. Her long eyelashes, in the faint early winter sunlight, cast tiny shadows. Within her clear pupils, obvious panic and guilt were writ large, practically screaming ‘I am suspicious.’

While she looked a little foolish, precisely because of that…

Jiang Chen’s Adam’s apple subtly bobbed, and he swiftly averted his gaze.

Yet in that gaze, besides the panic, there was a vulnerability she herself hadn’t even noticed.

Trembling slightly, it was inexplicably… alluring in an indescribable way. An attraction tinged with a sense of taboo.

He suddenly felt his throat go dry. He cleared it lightly, using the cough to conceal the sudden, untimely stir in his heart.

He silently quickened his pace by half a step, moving slightly ahead of Zhou Yi. With his tall, sturdy build, he shielded her from some of the sideways glances and the biting wind.

“Cold?” he asked, his voice devoid of discernible emotion.

Zhou Yi was startled for a moment before realizing he was addressing her. She quickly shook her head, emitting muffled “mm-mm” sounds from behind her mask.

Jiang Chen said nothing more.

They walked in silence along the tree-lined path leading to the academic building.

Zhou Yi secretly raised her eyes, looking at Jiang Chen’s broad, straight back. He wasn’t walking fast, moving at precisely a pace she could match. With most of the wind blocked by him, she felt… not as cold anymore, and not as exposed to everyone’s gaze.

The string in her heart, taut since she’d left the dorm, subtly loosened a fraction.

‘Maybe… no one can really tell?’

‘Maybe… she really can just bluff her way through this?’

The moment this thought arose, the steps of the academic building appeared before them.

The flow of people noticeably increased. Students carrying books, holding breakfast, and wearing headphones chatted and laughed as they approached and passed by.

Zhao Lei and Chen Hao, those two boisterous attention-seekers, spotted them from afar and noisily pushed through the crowd to get to them.

“Yi-ge!” Zhao Lei’s hand nearly clapped onto Zhou Yi’s shoulder, but she dodged it with a nimble movement.

“Holy crap, your reflexes are good!” Zhao Lei, missing his target, wasn’t annoyed. He bellowed, “You’re finally alive! We’ve all missed you like crazy! Heard you were really sick? Why does your little body look like it’s shrunk?”

He curiously scrutinized Zhou Yi’s attire from top to bottom.

Chen Hao also leaned in, resting his elbow on Zhao Lei’s shoulder and winking.

“It’s like three years since we last saw you, Yi-ge! With that mask, hat, and scarf, ‘are you making your debut as a masked idol?'”

The two of them flanked Zhou Yi, one on each side. Their loud voices immediately drew many curious glances from their surroundings.

Even through her thick mask, Zhou Yi could feel the gazes from all directions. Sweat instantly beaded on her forehead.

She forced herself to remain calm. With a deliberately low, hoarse voice, she pushed them away in disdain. “Scram, scram, scram! Stop acting like devoted brothers here. Just don’t forget about the cross-dressing thing.”

As expected, the mention of it instantly deflated Zhao Lei and Chen Hao. Their faces wrinkled as if they’d bitten into raw lemons.

“Yi-ge… that… can we… change the terms?” Zhao Lei tried to struggle.

“Don’t even think about it,” Zhou Yi interrupted him, seizing the opportunity to slip out of their encirclement.

Just then, Chen Hao suddenly exclaimed, “Eh?” He leaned his head forward, frowning as he stared at Zhou Yi’s exposed eyes.

“Yi-ge,” he said, his tone tinged with confusion. “Your voice… why does it sound so strange? It’s not like before. Is your cold not fully gone? Or is your throat really shot?”