Under the Same Roof

The summer wind carried the salty tang of seawater, as the kidnapped melodies of joy drifted silently into the distance.

In a young girl’s hand, the bubbles in a bottle of Sprite swirled and refracted the light, popping with the crisp clarity of midsummer.

At eighteen, Liu Huisheng already had long hair that reached her waist, flowing naturally with a curved headband resting atop her head.

Walking to the ninth corner of the old street, her sneakers stopped beside the peeling gray bricks of a wall.

She turned, her long hair swaying slightly like ripples on a lake; in that instant, her eyes shimmered with liquid light.

“Why are you following me?”

Her beautiful eyes fixed on a figure seven or eight meters away that had trailed her the entire way.

The person wore an oversized school uniform and was as thin as a bamboo pole.

The other person looked flustered, seemingly unprepared for being caught.

She awkwardly raised her left hand, her fingers moving pointlessly as she explained:

“I was afraid they would cause trouble for you.”

Liu Huisheng teased, “If anyone’s getting into trouble, it’s you. You’re the one who beat up their boss.”

She took a few steps forward, stopping right in front of the person.

“Besides, I don’t need protection from a little high school kid.”

The words “little kid” clearly displeased the other party.

When their eyes met, there was a hint of defiance in the depths of her gaze.

A naive, clear, and pure defiance.

“I’m not little.”

Her lips moved in protest.

Liu Huisheng found it amusing.

She stepped forward with her long legs, raised a hand to measure against the top of the other’s head, and brought it back to her own forehead at the same level:

“You’re not even as tall as I am.”

“I can still grow.”

“Mm, it’s good to have dreams. But my height hasn’t changed since the second semester of my first year of high school.”

“I will definitely be taller than you in the future.”

“Why do you have to be taller than me?”

“So I can protect you.”

“What’s your name?”

“Zhao Yu.”

“The ‘Yu’ for rain (雨)?”

“The ‘Yu’ for ‘growing old together’ (与).”

At that, Liu Huisheng fell silent.

She narrowed her eyes, leaned her upper body forward, and lowered her voice by three notches as she asked:

“Do you like me?”

She would always remember that day.

The green, youthful Zhao Yu had nowhere to hide after her secret was exposed.

Her pupils shook as if in an earthquake, yet they steadied within three to five seconds.

When she looked back at her, her eyes were as firm and clear as pebbles at the bottom of a mirrored lake.

“Yes, I like you,” Zhao Yu said.

Liu Huisheng, for once, didn’t know what to do.

She had no shortage of pursuers, and those with secret crushes were too many to count.

With a reserved personality like Zhao Yu’s, most would have run away the moment they were found out.

It was the first time she had met someone who admitted it so frankly.

After a moment of contemplation, she said:

“But I don’t like you. Even if you follow me, I won’t like you.”

Zhao Yu was very determined back then: “I’m following you because I want to walk you home, not because I want you to like me.”

“What if I scold you?”

“Then I must have done something wrong.”

“What if I hit you?”

Zhao Yu lowered her head and mumbled:

“Such beautiful hands… don’t hurt them by hitting me.”

By the end of that day, a name called Zhao Yu was added to Liu Huisheng’s phone.

And in Zhao Yu’s pocket was a bottle of safflower oil—given to her by Liu Huisheng.

The day before, while helping her chase off some thugs, Zhao Yu had been unlucky enough to take a hit during the scuffle; her wrist had swollen up.

Memories are beautiful because of a phrase beyond human control: Once upon a time. The present is cruel because of another phrase equally beyond human control: Later on.

The Zhao Yu of “once upon a time” was like a loyal, obedient Golden Retriever.

The Zhao Yu of “later on” was cold, taciturn, and ruthless—a lone wolf with sharp fangs.

At the entrance of the northern suite on the top floor of the Talent Apartments, the key stopped a second before entering the lock.

After withdrawing it, her tall frame turned around to face Liu Huisheng, who had her bag slung over one shoulder.

“You’re staying across from me.”

As she spoke, a strand of hair stuck out from the bun at the back of Zhao Yu’s head at a sharp angle—like a stinging thorn.

Combined with the chill in her eyes, it felt like a torrential downpour.

Liu Huisheng looked up through the storm, a faint smile on her face:

“Mm, but they didn’t give me the keys. I have to wait until tomorrow.”

The police bureau had applied for talent apartments for both her and Feng Xiaojing.

But when Feng Xiaojing heard this unit was directly across from Zhao Yu, she decisively swapped with Liu Huisheng.

“You can stay in a hotel,” Zhao Yu said, refusing to yield.

“The hotels are fully booked,” Liu Huisheng answered as if it were common knowledge.

“Then go squeeze in with Feng Xiaojing for the night.”

“I asked the Instructor. Your suite has two bedrooms, and one is empty.”

As she spoke, her flat leather shoes took a step forward, bringing them within inches of each other:

“It’s right for you to be afraid of me coming in. After all, given the nature of my profession, the placement of furniture, the usage of daily necessities, and the types of decorations… I can read your heart through all of it. Or perhaps you aren’t afraid of that, but rather…”

Her voice dropped suddenly as she continued: “Is Captain Zhao the type to discard someone after a night of fun, refusing to acknowledge them the next day?”

Click! Click! Clang— The lock of the security door turned twice and was opened impatiently from the outside, hitting the hallway wall.

Beyond the threshold stood a grim-faced Zhao Yu and a radiantly composed Liu Huisheng.

Zhao Yu’s room was very simple.

The simple three-tier shoe rack in the entryway held nothing but identical black sneakers.

Directly ahead, a small stainless steel single-person pot sat on the kitchen gas stove.

The kitchenware could be seen at a glance and was pitifully scarce—she didn’t like cooking and didn’t know how to take care of herself.

The living room had a lead-gray two-seater sofa. The TV wall was empty—no television, no decorations—she didn’t care for entertainment or leisure.

The bedroom door was wide open. The bed was moderately sized with a single pillow, and the quilt was folded neatly—disciplined, rigorous, and living a solitary life.

Every room in the house was open, yet the windows and curtains were tightly shut—inwardly closed, cautious, and lacking a sense of security.

Capturing this information, Liu Huisheng didn’t say much.

She simply took it all in, placed her shoulder bag on the sofa, and asked:

“What are we having for dinner? Do you usually cook, or eat out?”

Zhao Yu took off her jacket and hung it on the entryway rack, her eyelids drooping with visible displeasure:

“Don’t you find it exhausting to pretend you don’t know when you clearly do?”

“What do you mean?”

“One look at the kitchen and you know whether I cook or not.”

Liu Huisheng withdrew her gaze and shrugged, stating frankly: “Out of respect, I’m in the habit of not stating other people’s habits out loud.”

Zhao Yu remained unimpressed, muttering coldly: “Unnecessary.”

“Whether it’s unnecessary or a matter of social grace, this is my way of doing things. Have you heard of the Hedgehog’s Dilemma?”

“I don’t play around with psychology.”

“Human interaction is like hedgehogs; if they get too close, they prick each other. Only by maintaining a distance can two people stay in a comfort zone. If I told everyone that they were transparent in my eyes, I wouldn’t have any friends.”

As she spoke, she looked at Zhao Yu again, only to see that at some point, the Captain had rolled her shirt sleeves to her elbows and held a pack of women’s cigarettes between her slender fingers.

Liu Huisheng’s beautiful pupils constricted as if a porcelain vase had cracked.

“When did you start smoking?”

Zhao Yu didn’t answer, saying coldly: “None of your business.”

With that, she pulled out a slender cigarette, placed it between her lips, and lit it with a click.

She took a deep drag, her thin lips opening and closing to chew out a cloud of smoke.

The moment the smoke diffused, Liu Huisheng’s breathing stalled.

Her poised face finally froze in that instant, like a majestic statue struck by lightning, as thick black smoke poured from the cracks.

“I remember… you used to hate the smell of smoke.”

“You were the one who hated it.”

“Can you not smoke?”

Hearing Liu Huisheng’s tone harden, Zhao Yu turned her head.

The overhead light tilted down, casting a layer of shadow beneath her crow-feather lashes.

Her expression was unreadable, but it carried an invisible pressure.

She opened her thin lips slightly and exhaled a massive cloud of white smoke.

Huuu… The faint sound of air rushing carried the shape of the smoke directly into Liu Huisheng’s face.

Her beautiful eyes clamped shut. She turned her head, stood up, and grabbed the shoulder bag beside her, the veins on her hand bulging as she gripped the strap.

“Captain Zhao seems to be inconvenienced today. In that case, I’ll take my leave.”

As she said this, Liu Huisheng was holding her breath.

A winding red vein bulged on her neck, looking more captivating than if she were drunk.

Zhao Yu paused, her fingers tightening around the cigarette until the filter was crushed.

The impulse from last night—the loss of reason and the plunge into desire upon seeing her old flame—surged once more.

She clenched her jaw, desperately suppressing those base emotions.

Tap, tap, tap… Liu Huisheng’s departing footsteps were clearly hurried, perhaps out of anger or some other reason.

The moment her figure turned away, Zhao Yu could no longer restrain herself.

The resentment of all these years poured out in her complaint.

“You were the one who left first.”

Back then, you were the one who left first.

Tap! The forward footsteps paused, but only for a moment.

She pushed the door open and left without looking back.

Bang! The security door slammed shut with a heavy thud, like an ancient temple bell shattering.

After the loud noise came the silence of total death.

Zhao Yu felt a moment of desolation.

Despite her best efforts to endure, her eyes seemed to disconnect from her brain, staring at the now tightly closed door.

Did she resent Liu Huisheng?

Of course.

Back then, she had left without a single backward glance, departing for distant lands.

What was Zhao Yu like at that time?

She had cast aside all dignity and pride, willing to be a speck of dust in a deep pit, humbly offering up all her love.

That simple, sincere, and innocent Zhao Yu had died under the ginkgo tree on the day of their breakup.

Don’t debase yourself. Don’t repeat the same mistakes. Zhao Yu thought this as she took a harsh drag of the cigarette, then stubbed it out with annoyance on the stainless steel coffee table.

Thump! The sound of a heavy object hitting the floor came from the doorway, followed by something rolling down the stairs.

Then came the impossible-to-ignore sound of heavy, rapid gasping.

“Ha— ha— ha—”

It was the sound of someone desperately trying to breathe in an air-thin space, as if their throat were being squeezed.

Zhao Yu paused, carefully identifying the source of the sound.

Suddenly, a terrifying thought rushed into her mind.

Her eyelids trembled, and she charged out like a leopard.

The moment the door swung open, she saw Liu Huisheng kneeling miserably on the ground.

Her shoulder bag was open, with her phone, earphones, hand cream, notebook, and pen scattered messily across the floor tiles.

Her thin body was crawling toward the stairwell, looking as if she were about to tumble down the steps.

“What’s wrong with you!”

Zhao Yu rushed up frantically and grabbed her arm.

“Ha… ha…”

Liu Huisheng was struggling for air, her beautiful face nearly as white as paper.

She had lost the ability to speak. Her oxygen-deprived, trembling fingers pointed toward the landing of the stairs—to a green and white medicine bottle.

Zhao Yu understood instantly. She let go and flew down the stairs, opening the cap as she ran back.

With one hand, she propped Liu Huisheng up; with the other, she shoved the inhaler nozzle into her mouth and pressed down twice with force.

“Ha— kgh! Ha… cough cough cough…”

The acute sensation of suffocation eased slightly.

The constricted throat opened once more.

Like a beast in a colosseum returning to peace after a vicious slaughter, clean air flowed back into her lungs, awakening her dying body.

Seeing the eyes turned red from suffocation, Zhao Yu averted her gaze and asked:

“You didn’t have asthma before. What happened?”

This time, Liu Huisheng didn’t answer her with her previous gentleness.

She simply leaned in Zhao Yu’s arms like a long-haired rabbit that had survived a harsh winter, her eyes red and her manner extremely quiet.

Zhao Yu, dissatisfied with her silence, grabbed her wrist and demanded:

“What exactly happened back then!”

Answering her was Liu Huisheng’s head leaning against her shoulder, and the soft, lotus-root-like arm that draped weakly around her neck.

“I’m tired. Carry me inside.”

Her voice was hoarse, wreaking havoc in Zhao Yu’s heart.