The Art of Hiding

The evening wind sliced like a knife, making faces ache. When Jiang Chen pushed open the dorm door, a bone-chilling cold immediately surged in with him.

For once, the weather forecast had not lied; the cold front was truly fierce. It chilled people to their very bones, and even Jiang Chen felt he could barely endure it.

He placed the still-steaming takeout bag on the table. Then, he turned his head to look at Zhou Yi’s bed.

The person on the bed was entirely swaddled in her blanket, revealing only half of a fuzzy head and a pale, delicate profile. Her breathing was light and even, a sure sign she was deeply asleep. The strength she had managed to muster at noon had, in the end, been utterly consumed by her ailing body.

Jiang Chen moved gently. Just as he took off his cold-laden jacket and hung it up, the person on the bed stirred.

Zhou Yi groggily sat up. Her eyes still held the hazy confusion of just waking, and her hair was a mess, with several unruly strands sticking up. She rubbed her eyes, saw Jiang Chen, and mumbled indistinctly:

“You’re back?”

“Mm.” Jiang Chen acknowledged, walking to the table. He pushed the dinner bag towards her. “Eat something now that you’re awake.”

Zhou Yi slowly climbed out of bed, her steps still a little unsteady. She sat down on a chair and opened the takeout box. The warmth of the food wafted towards her, carrying that unique, unpretentious, comforting aroma of the cafeteria.

Neither of them spoke much, eating in quiet companionship. The only sounds in the dorm were the subtle chewing and the faint howl of the wind outside the window.

Mid-meal, Jiang Chen put down his chopsticks. He picked up the water glass beside him and took a sip.

“Did you read Lin Wei’s report this afternoon?”

Zhou Yi scooped a mouthful of rice into her mouth. “I skimmed it… I fell asleep this afternoon, so I didn’t look closely. What’s wrong? Is there an issue?”

“Yes,” Jiang Chen nodded, indicating his understanding. “The user persona section she added has a logical flaw. I’ve asked her to revise it. Han Yan should have mentioned this to you as well.”

“He did,” Zhou Yi said, taking another mouthful of rice. “I’ll take another look later.”

Jiang Chen gazed at her downcast lashes and slightly pale profile. He continued in a straightforward tone, “As planned, this weekend we need to conduct a round of field research at the location our group selected, to collect some first-hand data. It mainly involves observation, recording, and simple interviews, so the intensity isn’t too high.”

He paused, looking at her. “Your health…” he asked. “Can you manage? I mean, being out and about all day this weekend.”

Zhou Yi quickly calculated the days in her mind. Today was Monday; if she took her medicine on time and rested well, she should be fully recovered by the weekend.

“It should be fine,” she said, deliberating. “It’s just… I’ll have to ask the Manager for leave again.”

The thought of the Manager’s potentially sour expression and inevitable nagging made her feel a little guilty. “We’ll see when the time comes,” she added.

She mused for a moment, then quickly glanced at Jiang Chen before immediately averting her gaze. “By the way, Chen Ge, starting tomorrow, you don’t need to specifically bring me meals anymore. Running back and forth is too much trouble. I—I’ll just order takeout. It’s more convenient.”

Beyond not wanting Jiang Chen to constantly run errands for her and feeling bad about it, the main reason was… she felt a bit guilty.

She feared that spending too much time alone with Jiang Chen might inadvertently expose something. She had no idea how to explain the physical changes she was experiencing, nor did she dare let him know about them.

Jiang Chen glanced at her, stating calmly, “It’s no trouble.”

“It *is* trouble! Really!” Zhou Yi retorted almost immediately. Only after speaking did she realize her reaction was a little excessive, so she quickly averted her gaze and pressed her lips together.

Her almost comically resolute denial, akin to “protesting too much,” nearly made Jiang Chen lose his composure. The corner of his mouth curved into an almost imperceptible smile.

He didn’t press the issue further. He nodded, saying, “Alright, have it your way.”

Zhou Yi seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, her shoulders imperceptibly slumping a fraction before straightening immediately. She lowered her head, focusing intently on finishing the last few bites of rice in her meal box.

Jiang Chen said nothing more, slowly finishing his own portion. He stood up and collected both their used containers. Sitting down at his desk, he didn’t immediately open his computer or a book as he usually would.

‘Claiming not to trouble him was merely a pretense; the truth was she feared he might discover her secret.’

‘Yet, this little fool seemed to have forgotten the most crucial point: they lived in the same dorm.’

‘She believed that reducing their shared meal times during the day would create distance, but she overlooked their evenings together, their morning encounters, those unintentional glances, the rustle of clothes, even the rhythm of their breathing… all were impossible to completely avoid.’

‘If she wanted to hide, where could she possibly go?’

‘Still, since she was so nervous right now, he would… humor her for the time being.’

He opened his laptop, the screen’s light illuminating his sharply defined profile. It also concealed the complex thoughts that flickered in his eyes.

The next few days slipped by in a subtle, unspoken equilibrium.

****

The parcels from the locker arrived as expected. Seizing a window when Jiang Chen had a full day of classes and wouldn’t be back anytime soon, Zhou Yi, like a thief, donned a hat and mask and snuck out to retrieve her package. She then hurried back to the dorm, locking the door with a click.

Leaning against the cold door, she steadied her breathing. Only then did she dare to unwrap the two parcels in her hands.

Her hands trembled as she unwrapped them.

One parcel was addressed to ‘Zhou Yi’ and the other to ‘Zhou Er’. Those who understood, understood: it was standard practice to diversify risk.

Gazing at the pile of light-colored, pure cotton underwear and the highly elastic, form-fitting binder in her hands, the physical reality of them was a hundred times more impactful than seeing pictures on a screen. The sense of shame and the shock of reality were overwhelming.

Her face flushed, then paled. For some unknown reason, a wave of embarrassment and an inexplicable sense of grievance suddenly welled up within her.

‘What even *is* all this?’

She quickly pressed the items into a basin, added laundry detergent, and began scrubbing furiously, almost as if to vent her frustration.

The splashing water echoed exceptionally clearly in the quiet dorm. As she washed, she kept her ears perked for any sounds outside the door, terrified that Jiang Chen might suddenly return.

Fortunately, the balcony was separate. She could quickly hide the washed items amongst several baggy jackets and trousers, where they wouldn’t be noticeable.

But this was merely a temporary solution.

Once classes resumed normally, could she still openly wash and hang them like this? What if… what if someone saw them?

In the future, she’d probably have to take a hairdryer into the bathroom every time she showered. She’d wash the small items immediately after bathing, dry them on the spot, ensuring no trace was left behind.

‘What a hassle.’

‘No, it was an absolutely, utterly massive hassle.’

By the time she had finished dealing with all these troublesome matters, it was already noon. Jiang Chen had indeed humored her, no longer bringing her meals, thus reducing their time alone together during the day.

‘Jiang Chen seemed to… truly only see her as a sick roommate who needed looking after.’

This realization simultaneously brought Zhou Yi a sense of relief, yet inexplicably, it also stirred within her—a more complex, ineffable feeling.

‘Was it relief that he hadn’t discovered anything? Or was it a… faint trace of disappointment she herself was unwilling to admit?’