Finally eating, Cheng Shuo drank his soup, and his whole body relaxed.

“This is delicious,” he said. “You’re a great cook.”

“Thank you.”

“Stop with the ‘thank yous’,” he waved his hand. “Where did you learn to cook?”

Cen Zeng was silent for a few seconds. Cheng Shuo was already considering whether he should change the subject.

“When I was little…” Cen Zeng said, “my mom was pretty busy, so I’d cook by myself and wait for her to come back.”

“Oh…” Cheng Shuo swallowed, not asking for more details. “Then you’re amazing. When I was little and my parents weren’t home, I’d just order takeout, or wait for the meals they ordered for me.”

Cen Zeng replied that it was nothing amazing, just something he had to learn, and that his cooking was terrible at the beginning too.

“Still better than me…” Cheng Shuo answered. “I can’t even smash a clove of garlic.”

“It’s all very simple…” Cen Zeng replied. “It’s fine not to know how. You don’t need to.”

The shrimp wasn’t seasoned, so Cen Zeng had prepared a dipping sauce. He now asked him, “Do you want to add chili powder?”

“It’s fine.” Cheng Shuo took a bite. It was plain and tasteless. He couldn’t taste the freshness, only feeling that it was like the person before him—very calm. He had always found that boring, but at this moment, he felt an inexplicable sense of peace.

Cen Zeng was alive, drinking soup across from him. The steam blurred his gentle eyes and brows, leaving only a solitary, mountain-like silhouette.

“You’re a medical student, right? Are you very busy?”

“The semester just started, so it’s okay.” Cen Zeng’s tone was light. “Cooking doesn’t take long.”

“Alright, what other dishes can you make?” Cheng Shuo thought for a moment and, for once, told a half-truth. “No one’s ever cooked for me before. I’d like to eat at home in the evenings.”

“I know a bit of Sichuan cuisine, and for Hunan cuisine, I can make steamed fish head with diced chili peppers.”

“That’s too spicy.” He subconsciously thought of Cen Zeng’s health and immediately refused.

“Wasn’t the Malatang at noon spicy?” the person across from him asked.

Unexpectedly cornered like this, he coughed. “It was just too spicy.”

Although, in reality, he still found it tasteless.

But he couldn’t show weakness, couldn’t reveal his true feelings.

“Then it’s just homestyle dishes,” Cen Zeng said. “I can stew some beef brisket tomorrow.”

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Cheng Shuo said. “What time does your class end tomorrow?”

“You don’t need to pick me up,” Cen Zeng replied. “I’ll be at the hospital tomorrow. I can come back on my own.”

“You can’t expect me to go buy the groceries, can you?” Cheng Shuo retorted. “I don’t even know what raw beef brisket looks like.”

He said it so frankly that Cen Zeng glanced at him, looking somewhat helpless. “I’ll buy it.”

“I want to see what beef brisket looks like.”

Cen Zeng paused, seemingly processing this random sentence, then said very calmly, “Then let’s go together.”

After dinner, it was time to wash the dishes. The house had a dishwasher.

Cen Zeng’s fingers unconsciously caressed the smooth rim of the porcelain bowl, making him inexplicably uneasy.

Cheng Shuo went over to help place the bowls in the sink to rinse, then turned to wipe the table. Cen Zeng tried to stop him, but he said the important thing was to participate, so the other let him be. As a result, after he finished wiping, Cen Zeng wiped it all over again.

Of course, he did it stealthily, and when discovered, he just put on a blank face and pretended nothing happened. Cheng Shuo was amused. He stood by the table and said, “Don’t hide, let me learn how to wipe it properly.”

Fortunately, no matter how awkward they were, it only resulted in silence. And he had surprisingly grown accustomed to the silence.

Once everything was done, Cen Zeng said he needed to be busy for a while. Cheng Shuo nodded and found that Zhang Yijie had finally deigned to reply to him. An hour ago, he had asked if he wanted to hang out today.

Now he typed back, “Can’t, wanna come to my place and play games?”

After all, when choosing the apartment, he had prioritized soundproofing. The bedrooms were even fitted with sound-absorbing foam, so it shouldn’t disturb Cen Zeng.

Zhang Yijie had nothing better to do anyway and arrived at Cheng Shuo’s place quickly.

They played a few rounds of Mario Kart and tennis, and finally launched Overcooked.

The familiar scene of throwing vegetables at each other without putting out any fires, the familiar scene of them both failing miserably, not even getting a single star.

Zhang Yijie was speechless. “How are you so bad?”

“Who’s the one who never washes the plates and keeps blocking my way?”

“You have the nerve to talk? Who was it that aimed the fire extinguisher at the sink instead of the burning rice cooker?”

Halfway through their argument, they looked at each other’s faces and inexplicably burst out laughing.

Just then, Cen Zeng came out. Zhang Yijie quieted down, watching the other person pour a glass of water and leave.

“That substitute of yours, he’s still living at your place?”

Cheng Shuo found the term a bit jarring. “Don’t call him that. His name is Cen Zeng. He’s just my roommate now, and he’s a pretty good cook.”

It was rare for him to act this way. Zhang Yijie was utterly speechless. “Fine, so this isn’t the same you who rushed up to ask someone if they were willing to be a substitute. Do whatever you want.”

“Speaking of which…” Cheng Shuo fell silent for a moment. “Do you know anyone from the School of Medicine?”

Caught off guard by the question, Zhang Yijie was completely baffled. “Those guys from the School of Medicine are so busy you don’t see them for half a month. They definitely wouldn’t come to our hangouts. Where would I know them from?”

“Right.” Cheng Shuo wasn’t surprised. If Zhang Yijie had known someone, his childhood friend would have mentioned it when he was fighting the public opinion war with Chen Ziheng.

“Why do you ask?”

“Cen Zeng is from the School of Medicine,” he said. “I just feel like… he’s not very happy.”

“Is he your roommate, or your secret crush, bro?” Zhang Yijie’s words were never forgiving. “Now you’re concerned about his mood. Don’t fail to get Xing Ji and then transfer your affections to him. Spare the guy, I’m serious.”

“Don’t be glib,” Cheng Shuo frowned. “I’m serious.”

“How is he in a bad mood? Is it because you pissed him off?”

“He’s just unhappy.”

“Then just ask him. You two live together, and you have a mouth on your face. It’s not just for breathing.”

He wanted to say that he had asked, but the other person never told the truth.

“How do I ask?”

“Just…” Zhang Yijie thought for a moment. “Don’t you two eat together? Ask him slowly during meals. You’re such a natural at picking up guys, you still need me to teach you this?”

“It’s different,” Cheng Shuo said. “I’m not pursuing him, and he doesn’t talk much.”

“Then you…” Zhang Yijie scratched his head. “Take it slow, start by asking about his daily life? Don’t just go up and ask ‘why are you unhappy.’ Ask if he’s busy, how busy he is, if he’s annoyed, if he wants to curse out his advisor.”

“You’re being so caring. Auntie Zhang would surely be gratified to hear it.”

“I really want to smack you on the head.” Zhang Yijie picked up his controller, pretending he was about to smash it.

Cheng Shuo laughed and said, “Thanks, any other tips?”

Seeing him actually start to talk like a normal person, Zhang Yijie put down the Nintendo Switch with great regret. “Let me think. Find a chance to pick him up after his classes. Get to know some of his classmates, seniors, and juniors, and ask them how he’s doing. There might be some things he won’t tell you but might have told others.”

Unfortunately, Cen Zeng didn’t tell anyone anything. He only specialized in giving people frights.

However, Senior Sister and he probably did share some bond as victims.

Cheng Shuo thought for a moment and opened the list in his notes app.

Li Aimin Are You Even Human.

Senior Sister.

Zheng Yi.

He made up his mind to harass Chen Ziheng tomorrow to get Zheng Yi’s WeChat ID.

Before going to sleep, after much thought, he sent a WeChat friend request to ‘Li Aimin Are You Even Human’, writing, “My friend is one of Li Aimin’s newly recruited students, and I wanted to ask about what happened to Senior X.”

And the most important thing, of course, was what on earth was on Cen Zeng’s mind.

There was still a month left, or maybe twenty-something days, it couldn’t be just ten-something days, but no matter how much time was left, he couldn’t be so rushed.