A Milk Tea Offering and a Dance Discovery

Stepping out of the infirmary, An Ran immediately found himself longing intensely for the sixteen-degree air conditioning of the consultation room.

He sat obediently by the entrance of the milk tea shop, fanning himself with the small fan Fu Zao had given him, waiting for his friend to buy their drinks.

He had agonized for a long time, unsure how to express his gratitude to Gong He. He vaguely recalled Fu Zao mentioning Gong He’s family background before, hinting that he wasn’t short on money, which made the idea of giving him a gift incredibly awkward for An Ran.

What might be a precious gift in his eyes could easily be dismissed as unimpressive trinkets by Gong He. The vast disparity in their wealth might even lead to an awkward or laughable situation.

Having ruled out the option of a gift, An Ran pondered for a considerable time, still at a loss as to how to repay Gong He’s kindness.

Fu Zao, being his good friend, wouldn’t stand on such ceremony; they had already made plans to feast on crayfish once An Ran recovered.

Gong He, however, was different.

Their relationship was, paradoxically, that of incredibly intimate yet utterly unfamiliar roommates.

Indeed, since moving into the dorm, they hadn’t even exchanged a proper conversation.

An Ran was a particularly sensitive individual, prone to overthinking and internal struggle. He dreaded owing favors, and even more so, the anxiety of being unable to repay them promptly.

Thus, after much deliberation, he decided to first buy Gong He a cup of milk tea, offer a sincere thank you, and then gauge what Gong He might want, hoping to fulfill his needs within his own capabilities.

On the way back to the dorm, An Ran braced himself for the encounter, rehearsing the simple phrase “thank you” countless times in his mind.

Yet, as he drew closer to their dorm room, An Ran’s nervousness mounted, and all his mental practice seemed to dissipate.

He cautiously opened the dorm door, finding the lights on inside; Gong He had returned before him.

The gentle patter of water emanating from the bathroom indicated that Gong He was likely showering.

An Ran retreated to his own room, waiting quietly.

It wasn’t until the sound of water gradually ceased and a faint ‘creak’ of a turning doorknob came from the balcony that An Ran, clutching the milk tea, rushed out of his bedroom.

The moment he stepped into the living room, An Ran froze, dumbfounded at the sight of Gong He, bare-chested.

An Ran: “!!!”

‘Why isn’t he wearing any clothes?’

Recalling Gong He’s disheveled appearance without pants just a few days prior, An Ran pursed his lips.

He felt he had no right to scold the other man, especially since Gong He was his savior.

Gong He had just emerged from the bathroom, water droplets still clinging to his hair. He casually shook his head, and the beads of water slowly traced paths down his cheeks, dropping onto his broad, cool-toned chest before disappearing into his sleep pants, past his taut, chiseled abs.

An Ran’s gaze lingered for a moment, and his ears burned.

‘Was he really allowed to witness such a sight for free?’

Gong He, observing his roommate standing in the living room, staring blankly, raised an eyebrow slightly. “Is something the matter?”

An Ran stammered and mumbled for a long while, the “thank you” he had rehearsed countless times in his mind now blurring into incoherence amidst his jumbled thoughts.

‘Wh-wh-what was he supposed to say?’

‘Damn it, speak!’

An Ran couldn’t utter a single coherent word for the longest time.

Gong He’s gaze drifted from An Ran’s slightly flushed cheeks to the milk tea he held, a flicker of understanding crossing his eyes. He leaned against the doorframe, patiently waiting for his roommate to speak.

An Ran shyly lowered his eyelids, not daring to look up at the expansive sight before him. With a nervous flutter, he offered the milk tea to Gong He, stuttering out, “Th-thank you for taking me to the infirmary, I wanted to treat you to a milk tea.”

Gong He remained silent for a few seconds before finally accepting the milk tea. “Don’t mention it.”

Noticing An Ran’s conflicted expression, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Gong He’s lips. “Anything else?”

Though it was a perfectly ordinary question, it landed on An Ran’s ears in such a way that he mistook Gong He’s tone as a sign of impatience. He quickly added, “If there’s anything you need help with, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

Gong He simply gave a faint “Mm.”

“Then I won’t disturb you,” An Ran hurriedly blurted out the words before retreating to his room.

He lay sprawled on his bed, vexed by his own actions, wondering if his reaction had been too clumsy and slow.

‘Would Gong He think he was an idiot?’

An Ran’s heart pounded violently, the sound resounding like thunder in his ears.

This marked their first somewhat normal interaction.

Even though he would be moving dorms later, he still hoped that during this interim period, he and Gong He could get along well.

****

Liuda University’s Freshmen Welcome Gala was scheduled for the evening before the end of military training, inviting all first-year students. The class performances were to be decided by a lottery system.

An Ran’s class, unfortunately, drew a skit performance.

Since no students volunteered to perform, they had to resort to a second lottery to decide who would participate.

An Ran, being ill, escaped unscathed.

The doctor had advised him to rest, instructing him to stay put in the dorm.

An Ran was incredibly pleased; he had always disliked performing and would get flustered and shaky on stage.

Being spared from performing due to illness felt like a stroke of good fortune for An Ran.

Fu Zao, however, was not so lucky; he, unfortunately, became one of the members of the skit performance.

Since they had training during the day, rehearsals could only be held in the evenings after training.

Fu Zao had privately grumbled to An Ran several times about the inconvenient rehearsal schedule.

Training under the scorching sun all day was exhausting enough, but then their evening rest time had to be sacrificed for rehearsals.

Fu Zao muttered resentfully, “The school is treating us like wartime conscripts (TL Note: A Chinese slang term, ‘dang Riben ren zheng,’ humorously referring to being overworked or subjected to harsh, military-style discipline)!”

An Ran patted his head, consoling him, “You’ve worked hard.”

Fu Zao was on the verge of tears. “Why am I so unlucky?”

He didn’t enjoy performing either. Although the skit his class chose was quite interesting, they sometimes rehearsed late into the night, only to have to wake up early for military training the next day.

Fu Zao took a big bite of his popsicle and declared, “I even wanted the doctor to give me a note to exempt me from military training, but my mom thought my physical fitness was too poor and insisted I participate. Look at what good this military training has done — it’s tanned me like a fisherman.”

An Ran chuckled. “I think your physical fitness is much better than before.”

Fu Zao countered, “But I’m so dark! In this weather, sunscreen is useless. I wonder how many winters it will take to get my fair skin back.”

An Ran carefully observed his skin tone, reassuring him, “I think you look fine, not that dark. You’ll definitely get your fair skin back after this winter.”

He suddenly recalled Gong He’s bare-chested skin from that day and felt a pang of envy.

Gong He probably had cool-toned skin; he didn’t seem like the type to wear sunscreen, yet he hadn’t tanned much, and his skin tone was remarkably even, his arms and chest sharing the same shade.

“But rehearsals are still quite interesting,” Fu Zao said, changing the subject. “Do you want to come watch tonight?”

An Ran responded with an intrigued, “Hm?”

Fu Zao grinned. “I heard Gong He’s class also used a lottery to decide their performance, and both Lu Ye and Gong He are on the list! And guess what? Gong He’s class is performing a dance!”

An Ran exclaimed in surprise, “Dancing?”

No wonder Gong He had been returning to the dorm so late these past few days, always with a grumpy, unhappy expression.

It turned out Fu Zao wasn’t the only unlucky soul.

Fu Zao laughed excitedly. “So, what do you say? Want to come watch my rehearsal? Our rehearsal spot is right near Gong He’s class, and I sneak out every night to watch them dance! I’m telling you, their group dance is really captivating!”

Still reeling from shock, An Ran dazedly asked, “Gong He can dance?”

He could barely fathom how Gong He managed to move his body in sync with others while sporting such a sullen expression.

The mental image was almost too vivid.

Fu Zao nodded. “He can dance, and he’s really good at it.”

Driven by curiosity, An Ran followed Fu Zao to their rehearsal classroom.

Their class was performing a skit from “Empresses in the Palace” (TL Note: A popular Chinese historical drama, also known as ‘Zhen Huan Zhuan’), specifically the famous blood-test-for-kinship scene.

Fu Zao had been assigned the role of Imperial Physician Wen.

An Ran quietly sat in a corner, watching them rehearse and snapping numerous photos of Fu Zao.

The braised eggplant for dinner had been too salty, so An Ran had drunk a lot of water and now needed to use the restroom. Unsure of the way, he decided to wait until Fu Zao took a break to ask him.

Fu Zao wiped the sweat from his forehead and, upon hearing An Ran needed the restroom, pointed the way. “Just turn right at the door and keep walking straight. The restroom is around the corner by the stairwell.”

An Ran nodded.

Fu Zao didn’t forget to add a reminder. “Oh, and on your way to the restroom, you’ll pass by Gong He’s rehearsal room; you should take a peek.”

“Okay,” An Ran replied, following Fu Zao’s directions. Along the way, he could faintly hear a snippet of a Korean song playing on a loop, leading him to guess that it was Gong He’s class practicing their dance. He couldn’t help but quicken his pace.

As he neared Gong He’s rehearsal classroom, An Ran deliberately slowed his steps, peering through the window. Among the crowd, he spotted Gong He instantly.

Just as he had imagined, Gong He’s expression was indeed sour, and to his further misfortune, he had been unluckily chosen as the lead dancer.

An Ran couldn’t help but wonder if the others had something on Gong He to make him compromise to such an extent.

He had initially expected Gong He, with that grim expression, to be stiff-limbed, his dance moves uncoordinated, perhaps even comical. But reality defied his assumptions. Just as Fu Zao had said, Gong He was an excellent dancer; his body possessed excellent flexibility, and his dance moves flowed with a captivating smoothness, a truly pleasing sight.

His gaze was utterly captivated by Gong He, and he found himself lingering outside the window for quite some time, unconsciously.

Until Gong He noticed his presence.

An Ran froze, his eyes meeting Gong He’s. His legs felt as if filled with lead, leaving him rooted to the spot, a wave of mortification washing over him—the shame of being caught peeking by the very person he was watching.

An Ran couldn’t quite recall how he managed to leave, only remembering that Gong He’s gaze had been rather cold.

‘Would Gong He think he was a pervert?’

‘He was supposed to be resting in the dorm due to illness, yet here he was, secretly watching Gong He dance in his rehearsal room!’

An Ran walked towards the restroom with an utterly despondent expression, realizing he had, once again, socially embarrassed himself in front of Gong He.

An Ran: QAQ

‘He really wasn’t a pervert.’