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My dear mother,
There has been some confusion over the rooming arrangements here at Xian Le. You see, I was under the impression that Hua Cheng would be my roommate, but the man that turned up is far more peculiar. He is exceedingly irate—his face unhealthily wrinkled given his perpetually furrowed brows and upturned mouth. I have not seen him smile once since the moment I first laid eyes on him, nor did he offer even a subtle nod of acknowledgement when our paths crossed. I overheard him speaking with someone I assume is a close friend, and for all his enraged countenance, his tone was surprisingly soft. He is altogether quite impossibly hard to describe. As always, I will rise above it no matter what.
Dearest, darlingest mama and pop,
There seems to be confusion over rooming here at Xianle. I initially thought I’d be lodging with Xie Lian, but here I am dealing with an unwanted and unknown roommate—who, by the way, has taken the finer and larger mattress. He’s also taken a greater space for his belongings, and it’s surprising to see the variety of clothing and memorabilia he managed to fit in that slim bag he owns. He’s done nothing but glare at me all afternoon, and I’m guessing it’s because I’ve been ignoring him. Before either of you start lecturing me, it’s simply because I was frustrated with the sudden change in room assignments! And, you see, it’s because he's annoyingly stunning. Though, I have my doubts that such beauty runs much deeper than the surface. But, you know me, I’ll make this work nonetheless.
*
There is a sudden and unexplainable feeling coursing through Feng Xin’s veins, rushing from his pulse all the way to his face and head. It’s all thanks to his roommate, Mu Qing, whose heels have been clicking noisily against the floor since early this morning.
"Can’t you make those fucking shoes shut up?" Feng Xin mutters, adjusting his posture as he sits up on his bed. His gaze lingers, inexplicably drawn to how those baby pink stilettos frustratingly complement the long stretch of fair skin.
Mu Qing turns and levels with him a glare, and Feng Xin thinks he’s had that expression since birth.
“Oh, look, the sailor’s up,” Mu Qing says, rolling his eyes. “And I suppose courtesy went out the window. It’s our first conversation and he opens his mouth with such lousy language.”
Feng Xin huffs, but notes the smooth and gentle cadence that now has him in an indescribable reeling sensation. “And forget consideration, I guess,” he replies, his words tinged with sarcasm. “Seeing that you’re not concerned about making so much noise while he’s asleep.”
“If you want to talk about consideration, why don’t we shift the conversation to how you shoved all my things into that dusty corner?” Mu Qing counters, finger pointing at the mountain of clothes and books near the window.
The once neat array of pink clothing and thick books, carefully spread out, had been so nicely thrown together in a chaotic heap and thrust into the crevice of the room, the sun rays casting a spotlight on the ridiculous display.
“You were taking up too much space.” Feng Xin grumbles as he pushes himself off the bed. “And you’ve already claimed the larger bed. It’s only fair that I get a bigger area for my stuff.”
Mu Qing breathes out in disbelief and scoffs. “Please, you have five clothes in total, and one random baseball bat.”
Feng Xin’s face flushes, his mouth twitching in brief embarrassment. His other belongings are still on their way to Xianle! He only brought a week’s worth of luggage to avoid inconvenience!
“I have other stuff coming!” Feng Xin exclaims, crimson heavy on his cheekbones. “And that’s not the point! This is a shared space!”
Mu Qing rolls his eyes again and goes to put on a thinking expression, crossing his arms and tapping his foot, as if Feng Xin is supposed to believe he's considering a compromise.
As expected, he just smirks and flips his hair over his shoulder after a minute. The action should not be much of a distraction, but Feng Xin finds himself following the irritating and exasperating swish of silver strands.
“By ‘other stuff,’ you mean five more shirts and another baseball bat?” Mu Qing sniggers. “Oh, that’s a lot. You might need an entire extra room for that,” he adds, his tone dripping with mockery.
Feng Xin’s stare is icy. “Aren’t you a fucking delight with that attitude?”
“I sure am.” Mu Qing’s smug smile sends a deluge of incomprehensible feelings to Feng Xin’s chest. He does not think about it.
“It’s impossible to talk to you.” Feng Xin snaps. “I’m going for a walk. This conversation is not over, and make sure you cast a silencing spell on those heels before I get back.”
"And what right do you have to tell me what to do?" Mu Qing says challengingly, raising his brow. Feng Xin's eyes catch the highlight on Mu Qing's brow bone, and his gaze slowly drifts over the rest of his features, lingering on his mouth, painted in a soft shade of pink.
There goes the strange exhilaration again, squeezing his insides tightly.
Feng Xin is on the verge of a heart attack if he doesn’t leave the room right this second, so he does the only sensible thing—he bolts, trying to make out the unexplainable feeling pulsing in his veins.
*
Mu Qing wakes up to loud panting and groaning, as if someone’s in great pain.
His eyes move toward where the sound is coming from, and the first thing he sees is a tanned, sinewy back. A sudden pang tugs at his chest—an unfamiliar feeling he's been grappling with ever since he started rooming with Feng Xin.
Mu Qing does not let himself dwell on it.
“For a moment I thought I was lodging with a dog.” Mu Qing remarks, staring at Feng Xin with a flat intensity.
Feng Xin drops his impossibly large weights at the sudden comment, turning to Mu Qing with a sour expression plastered on his face. Mu Qing’s gaze falls on the sweat trickling down Feng Xin’s chest, and he immediately looks away before he’s caught.
“Oh, look, the princess is awake.” Feng Xin greets him with derision.
“The room reeks of sweat.”
“Oh, yeah? Too bad I don’t give a fuck.”
Mu Qing fixes him with a deadpan look. “In case you didn’t know, Xian Le has a gym. It’s literally on the first floor of this building.”
Feng Xin strides over to his bedside table, grabs his water bottle, and downs a generous amount before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Mu Qing feels his face heat up at the sight, a flush creeping up his neck.
Finally, Feng Xin responds. “Congratulations on memorizing Xian Le’s fucking floorplan. I’d suggest taking your makeup routine somewhere else, too, but I don’t know which floor the vanity room is on.” He takes a towel sprawled on his bed and wipes himself off. Mu Qing grits his teeth, trying to fight off the strange, heady rush that settles deep in his bones.
"My makeup routine is nowhere near as noisy or musty as your workout." Mu Qing fires back, rolling his eyes.
“You’re just a fucking brat.” Feng Xin snaps, knitting his brows even further. “I’m sorry, princess, but you don’t always get what you want. I’ll exercise here as much as I please.”
The utterance of that princess nickname for the second time is going to send Mu Qing to his grave. He stifles the odd feeling in his chest yet again.
Mu Qing stands up from his bed and grabs his robe. “I’m off to the dining hall. If the room still smells like you when I get back, I will sign you up as the poster boy for Xian Le’s gym. I’m sure the ladies would love that.”
“You will not!” Feng Xin shouts, and Mu Qing beams at the distress in his voice. He’s about to make another taunting remark when the sunlight streams in through the window, and he watches as the honeyed flecks in Feng Xin’s eyes gleam softly under it.
His breath hitches, and before he knows it, he’s out of the door like a madman. Feng Xin yells out his name angrily, and he briefly wonders if it’s only him who gets this chronic buzz underneath his skin when they’re around each other.
*
Xie Lian and Hua Cheng watch in silent amusement as Mu Qing and Feng Xin fight furiously over the last breadstick in the dining hall. Every so often, they exchange knowing looks, grimacing at the sharpness of the retorts flying between the two.
“They still haven’t figured it out, huh?” Xie Lian asks.
“You give them far too much credit, gege.”
Mu Qing successfully takes ahold of the breadstick, and Feng Xin does not waste a minute to chase him.
Xie Lian can only sigh.