Vol3 Chapter 5: Angry Little Dragon

The door was gently pushed open, and the dorm’s atmosphere was a stark contrast. A certain little dragon girl sat cross-legged on Bai Ci’s bed, a manga spread before her, a lollipop in her mouth, cheeks puffed as she mumbled to Zero, who was reading at the desk: “Senior Sister… isn’t this villain brain-dead? Could’ve shot the hero but rambled forever—deserves to get counter-killed!” Zero didn’t look up, flipping a page with a faint “mm” as a reply.

Bai Ci’s entrance barely caused a ripple. She slipped in like a silent shadow.

“Yo, Senior Sister Bai’s back? What’d Senior Brother Lu say?” Xia Mi’s eyes stayed glued to her manga. “No need to guess—he’s probably bouncing around like a monkey.”

“Mm.” Bai Ci’s single syllable was soft, coated in thick dust. She pulled out a chair and sat, back rigid, exuding a taut fragility, like she might snap.

Xia Mi finally tore her gaze from the manga. Her lollipop nearly fell. Bai Ci’s face was expressionless, eerily calm, like the dead sea after a storm, heavy with unsettling exhaustion. Her usually clear, icy eyes were alarmingly red, swollen lids and faint tear tracks betraying her control.

Zero glanced over, her ice-blue eyes lingering on Bai Ci for a few seconds before returning to her book, though her page-turning paused briefly.

The air stilled.

Xia Mi’s manga lost its appeal. She blinked, carefully removing the lollipop, clearing her throat with an overly cheerful tone: “Yikes! Senior Sister, your eyes… allergic to the infirmary’s disinfectant? That place reeks! Want me to grab some ice?” She made to get off the bed.

“No need, thanks.” Bai Ci’s voice was soft, faintly hoarse. She didn’t look up, slowly organizing her desk. She lifted a thick dictionary, fingers brushing the cover as if it were fragile porcelain, then placed it precisely parallel to the desk’s edge, not a millimeter off.

She moved to the pen holder, sorting each pen by length, color, thickness, with the focus of a scientist in a lab. Her already tidy desk became a museum exhibit, not a speck of dust allowed.

Xia Mi froze, unsure whether to move. She shot Zero a desperate, silent plea: What’s—going—on?!

Zero’s gaze left her book, settling on Bai Ci, who was aligning a notebook’s edge with the desk corner, then wiping a small cactus pot with stubborn spines, though it was spotless.

Zero’s brow furrowed slightly.

Xia Mi couldn’t take the oppressive “organizing storm.” Time to play team morale booster.

“Senior Sister, your organizing skills are robotic! You’re a shoo-in for dorm cleanliness champ!” Xia Mi clapped dramatically, trying to banish the gloom. “Come on, enough tidying—watch me pull off a stunt!” She sprang up, attempting a theatrical kip-up, but overdid it, nearly tumbling off the bed, clinging to the edge with a yelp.

Normally, Bai Ci would’ve sighed or scolded her. But now, her movements only paused faintly, her cactus-wiping unchanged, as if Xia Mi’s antics were irrelevant noise. Her focus was lost in that repeatedly polished clay pot—or in a searing, long-gone moment: the humbled figure crouching before her, stubbornly wiping oil stains from her shoes.

Xia Mi, clinging to the bed, her smile faltering, shot Zero a look screaming, Help! This isn’t working!

Zero closed her book. She stood, moving silently, gracefully, to Bai Ci’s desk, watching her wipe the cactus pot. Without a word, she tapped the gleaming pot.

“Bai Ci,” Zero’s voice was cool and steady, “you’re about to rub the paint off.”

Bai Ci’s wiping stopped. Her fingers trembled on the cool clay, lashes casting shadows over her churning emotions. After several seconds, she slowly, painfully set the cactus down.

Then she began adjusting the books on her shelf, spacing them meticulously, fingers brushing the spines with near-neurotic care, as if too much force would shatter her world. Xia Mi sat on the bed, manga open but unread, brows knotted. The answer was obvious—what else but Lu Mingfei could reduce her to this?

Zero sipped her coffee, ice-blue eyes scanning Bai Ci’s every unnatural move like a precise scanner.

“Tch!” Xia Mi snapped, flicking her lollipop stick into the trash can with a sharp clink. The sound briefly halted Bai Ci, but she resumed her mechanical tidying like a wind-up doll.

“I can’t take it!” Xia Mi leaped off the bed, barefoot, storming to Bai Ci’s desk, slamming both hands down, shaking the cactus and toppling books.

The noise finally stopped Bai Ci. She looked up at Xia Mi, her red eyes hollow, chilling Xia Mi’s heart, but igniting a mix of worry and frustration.

“Bai Ci! Enough!” Xia Mi’s voice rose sharply, theatrical and accusing. “Look at you! Floating in like a ghost, not talking, just wiping—table, chair, your precious cactus! What? Did the infirmary’s disinfectant fry your brain?”

Bai Ci’s lips parted slightly, but she only pressed them tighter, eyes dropping to the books Xia Mi had knocked askew.

“Oh, I get it!” Xia Mi slapped her forehead, circling Bai Ci with exaggerated realization. “It’s Lu Mingfei, isn’t it? That clumsy idiot—did he spill something on you? Say something dumb to piss you off? Tell me! I’ll drag him out to do a handstand shampoo apology!” She rolled up her sleeves, pretending to storm out.

Her blatant probing and joking barely stirred Bai Ci’s eyes, which sank back into stillness. She even straightened the books Xia Mi had disturbed, slow and precise.

Xia Mi froze mid-step. Bai Ci’s impervious, icy shell fueled her frustration. The theatrics vanished, replaced by raw irritation: “What are you fighting yourself for?!” Her voice lowered, piercing. “Look at you! Like a soulless husk—worse, a zombie’s got more life! At least they’d stumble around!”

Pointing at Bai Ci’s red eyes: “You cried? For what? That idiot Lu Mingfei? Or the mess in your head?”

Bai Ci tensed briefly.

“I know you—your brain’s a maze!” Xia Mi planted her hands on her hips, a firecracker. “Always overthinking. What? Lu Mingfei’s a big shot now, so you think he doesn’t need you? Or you’re not good enough for him? Aren’t you tired?!”

“Lu Mingfei’s a loser, a coward, a klutz, but he used up a lifetime’s courage to confess today, right? And you?” Xia Mi’s tone was sharp, not cruel. “You reject him and turn yourself into a walking corpse! Are you punishing yourself, him, or us watching you?”

“You think you’re noble? Selfless? Pushing him away for his own good?” Her voice rose, brutally clear. “You’re selfish! Wallowing in your ‘I’m not worthy’ drama! Did you think about his feelings? He bared his heart, and you smashed it, then tortured yourself like this. What’s he supposed to think? That he not only failed but ruined you? That he’ll only feel guilt and shame remembering you? That’s your ‘for his own good’?!”

“I…” A broken syllable escaped Bai Ci, thick with nasal trembling.

Xia Mi cut her off, machine-gun style: “And look at you! Not human, not ghost! Locking yourself in that shell, rejecting all kindness, all possibilities! Is this what you want? A cold, lonely… ‘monster’?” She emphasized the last word, pained and accusing.

Plop.

A scalding tear hit Bai Ci’s hand, not a flood but a silent breach of her dam. She ducked her head, shoulders shaking violently.

“I…” Her voice, hoarse as sandpaper, tried again. “I’m not… I didn’t…” She wanted to deny Xia Mi’s accusations, the “selfish” label, the “monster” definition that terrified her, but chaos and pain choked her words.

“No ‘didn’t’!” Xia Mi interrupted, her tone softening with faint helplessness and… care? “If you like him, just say it! Why overthink? Did you commit some heinous crime? You told me to chase Chu Zihang—forgot your own advice? You like him!”

“Cry! Let it out! Don’t bottle it up until you’re a table-wiping robot—that’s the real monster!”

Zero, silent till now, set down her coffee. She stepped to Bai Ci’s side, wordlessly placing a clean tissue by her trembling hand. She glanced at Xia Mi: “Know when to stop, but… good job.”

“Tch.” Xia Mi caught Zero’s look, pouting but holding her fire. Bai Ci’s head was bowed, shoulders shaking, muffled sobs leaking through her fingers—not the dead silence anymore. Xia Mi exhaled, the weight in her chest easing slightly.

“Achoo!” Bai Ci sneezed loudly, jarring after the storm, either from emotion or her earlier tears.

Xia Mi blinked, her lips twitching upward before she caught herself.

Zero’s mouth curved faintly, quickly returning to neutral.

The small accident, like a pebble in a stagnant lake, broke the suffocating ice. The air’s grief and despair lightened, replaced by a mix of resignation, exhaustion, and a touch of absurd… life.

Xia Mi rubbed her nose, clearing her throat with forced lightness, still tinged with lingering ire: “See? Told you the infirmary’s disinfectant is harsh! Caught a cold? Hang on, I’ll make ginger soup!” She rushed to the kitchen, as if she hadn’t just torn into Bai Ci.

Zero quietly swapped the damp tissue for a dry one.

In the kitchen, Xia Mi glanced at her hands, wondering why she didn’t slap Bai Ci for revenge from that day.

Whatever. I’ll get her next time.

Keep this up, and I’ll slap you awake.