Chapter 13: Bath and Shampoo

“Splish-splash—”

In the bathroom, Hua Qi’an cupped a handful of water and splashed it onto her feverish face.

The cool flow immediately cooled her skin.

Looking at the disheveled girl in the mirror, Hua Qi’an sighed.

So embarrassing.

She hadn’t expected to actually cry out like that.

Luckily, she’d claimed it was a nightmare and she felt unwell, needing the bathroom to shower—her roommates hadn’t pried further.

For some reason, the others had looked at her with a hint of guilt.

The relatively friendly petite girl, He Yi, had seemed like she wanted to say something but held back.

But Hua Qi’an’s situation had been urgent then; she hadn’t waited to hear it out, grabbing her change of clothes and bolting into the toilet first.

Lifting the hem of her shirt, Hua Qi’an looked down.

Her smooth, pale belly came into view.

That dull ache from earlier had lingered for nearly half an hour, still faintly there.

But…

Hua Qi’an’s fingertip brushed the flawless skin of her abdomen, which quivered slightly under the sudden air exposure, sensitive to the touch.

Nothing seemed abnormal.

Maybe it really had just been a dream.

She pulled off her top and tossed it into the basin she’d brought for dirty laundry.

Then the pants, socks, bra, and panties…

“…”

“These need washing right away.”

Taking a deep breath, Hua Qi’an quietly dropped the soiled panties into the washbasin.

What a mess.

Was it because she’d hit puberty?

Was this a wet dream? Or a nightmare?

Hua Qi’an couldn’t tell.

She ruffled her loose hair, at a total loss.

With a consoling exhale—good thing the bed hadn’t gotten any on it.

She had to be grateful she hadn’t changed out of her clothes during that nap.

They were new, not even worn half a day.

The pants might’ve caught a bit; she’d wash them later, but the top should hold for another day.

From the pants’ state, she could tell the sheets were fine.

Washing sheets? Such a hassle.

Hua Qi’an wasn’t exactly diligent.

The semester had just started; her sheets and bedding were fresh from a pre-term wash.

If some accident forced her to scrub or swap them out…

Hua Qi’an wouldn’t be able to fake a good mood.

She looked up at her reflection.

Her expression looked on the verge of cracking.

She’d only wanted a quick nap, yet it hadn’t been peaceful at all.

She’d had nightmares before, but ones this frequent and vivid? Rare.

Her ink-black hair, just past shoulder-length, was tousled from lying down; Hua Qi’an shook her head side to side, then ran her fingers through to smooth it.

The bandage around her neck still stood out glaringly; she placed a hand lightly on it, then—as if to confirm something—frowned and slowly unwound it.

The scent of Yunnan Baiyao ointment wafted out, filling the air.

Staring at the bruised handprints on her neck in the mirror—even the second time, it still sent a chill from deep within.

Hua Qi’an forced herself to stay calm.

Her cool hand pressed to the bruised spot, the chill dulling the ache.

She’d been puzzled all along—if someone in reality had gripped her that hard…

Why was she still alive?

Bruises like these meant real force had been applied to her neck back then.

Some creature with that much malice strangling her—yet here she was, fine.

This wasn’t some “prank.”

Hua Qi’an tilted her head, exposing her clear collarbone and the elegant line of her jaw.

In this pose, the bruises on her neck showed clearer.

She gauged where they were deepest, shallowest…

Raising her hand, she mimed the grip position toward her mirror self.

If she wanted to strangle someone, how would she position her hands?

She held the pose in midair for a moment, then shifted.

Hesitantly, she moved her hand to her own neck, pondering how it would feel if someone were trying to kill her.

“No…”

The marks on her neck… they didn’t line up.

This seemed to debunk her theory, yet it confirmed the suspicion she’d harbored from the start.

When strangling, the deepest pressure should come from thumb and forefinger…

If these bruises matched that grip…

Hua Qi’an placed her hand on her neck—

The marks aligned perfectly.

“Hah…”

Like touching something scalding, Hua Qi’an yanked her hand away.

So, the handprint on her neck—she’d done it to herself?

“…”

She needed to sort her thoughts.

“Splash—”

She slotted the water card into the heater and twisted on the showerhead.

Letting the direct spray pound down on her.

Water sluiced off her skin to the floor, filling the space with its roar.

After soaping up fully, she closed her eyes, bent at the waist, and worked shampoo into her hair.

Did she have a sleepwalking habit?

Head bowed, letting the stream rinse her nape, Hua Qi’an stared silently at her bare feet, lost in thought.

Knowing the culprit behind her neck marks actually put her more at ease.

At least it proved no one else had been there besides her.

Fear stemmed from the unknown; with answers, Hua Qi’an leaned toward figuring out why she’d done it.

Beyond possible sleepwalking, she couldn’t think of other explanations.

She’d dreamed of being strangled, so her body reacted in kind…

Her sudden loss of consciousness in the dream? Maybe a protective reflex kicking in.

Strangling yourself to death? Tough feat.

It all seemed to add up.

Water trailed from the ends brushing her ankles, dripping onto her toes.

Hua Qi’an curled her toes, pausing.

The air reeked of shampoo.

Foam still clung to the hand on her head.

But her arm ached.

From earlier, she’d been running her hand down her long hair nonstop, trying to rinse the shampoo clean.

Today, it was weirdly stubborn to wash out.

Hua Qi’an’s patience frayed.

Maybe switch up her head-washing pose.

She shut off the shower, reaching to sweep the hair from her forehead back.

“…”

Still bent, Hua Qi’an tilted her head slightly, eyes lifting to the strands draping to her ankles.

Water beaded on them, dripping to her toes.

Her heartbeat thrummed suddenly in her ears.

…Was her hair this long?

Hua Qi’an inhaled deep, exhaling slowly through her nose.

She shut her eyes.

When she opened them, that earlier sight seemed like her imagination.

The tips, just shy of her knees, gathered droplets and let them fall.

“What’s wrong with me lately?”

“…Damn it.”

Hua Qi’an raked her hair back, gathered it behind, then flipped the shower on and tilted her head up to rinse.

This time, it went smoothly.

Soon enough, she’d washed up, changed into sleepwear, sorted her dirty clothes, and carried the basin to unlock the door.

Stepping from the steamy space into cool air, it wormed right into her clothes’ gaps.

She sat at her desk and started blow-drying.

For some reason, the dorm was empty—just her.

A glance at the time: nearly midnight.

From waking to shower done, not even half an hour— she hadn’t realized how late it was.

Normally, at this hour, roommates would be in bed.

But tonight, they’d kept chatting…

Door was locked; out at this time—what for?

Minutes later, Hua Qi’an’s hair was dry; she stowed the dryer.

From her bag, she fished out the hospital’s bandages and ointment, applying it to her neck and wrapping fresh.

No roommates meant fewer pointless hassles.

She’d planned to mask it quick and wrap up in bed.

Now, no need.

As she finished bandaging, commotion stirred at the door.

Hua Qi’an looked up, brows lifting in surprise.

“Heh heh, Xiao Qian— you okay? We just snuck a table from the dorm management office.”

He Yi hefted one corner of the table, spotting Hua Qi’an and waving with a grin.

Petite as she was, she always brimmed with energy.

Seeing her, Hua Qi’an’s lips curved; she mustered an awkward smile.

“I’m fine—just had a nightmare that spooked me…”

The trio set the table down in the room’s center.

Zhao Yingying eyed Hua Qi’an’s state and snorted a laugh.

“No way—you that chicken?”

“Gonna cry later? Can’t have that.”

Hm?

Hua Qi’an frowned unconsciously at the ponytail girl’s superior air, then smoothed her expression.

“Alright, alright—Yingying, quit picking on Xiao Qian.”

“Xiao Qian, you’ll play with us, right?”

Li Xiaozhen adjusted her glasses, seeming to smooth things over, but clearly siding with Zhao Yingying—now egging Hua Qi’an to join.

Hua Qi’an rose, approached the table, and peered down at its contents.

A paper scribbled with words, a pencil, and two white candles.

Numbers, eras, genders, surnames… crammed full in dense script.

Even Hua Qi’an could guess the game.

“…Pen Fairy?”