My straight roommate is so good

They say that with every autumn rain comes a chill. After a few consecutive rainy days, the temperature in Lan City has dropped close to freezing.

Both the dormitory building and the residential areas nearby had a unified heating system. Heating trials began in mid-November, and formal heating started at the end of November.

Since it was not yet mid-November, heating was still unavailable.

Qiao Song was sensitive to the cold, so he had been wearing a thick white down jacket from morning till night, rarely taking it off even in the dorm.

Seeing how cold he was, Ling Jianshu specifically bought a small electric heater. As long as Qiao Song is in the dorm, he kept the heater on, warming their half of the dorm.

Cheng Yuan often dragged Liu Junming over to warm up.

Liu Junming, feeling awkward and law-abiding, was always conflicted. He said “thanks, Brother” while also mumbling, “Isn’t this against the rules? I remember the advisor said not to use heaters in the dorm…”

Cheng Yuan, annoyed by his nagging, argued, “You don’t understand. This isn’t just a heater; it’s Ling Brother’s heartfelt gesture! How can a heartfelt gesture be against the rules?”

Liu Junming felt the logic is flawed but couldn’t argue back.

Ling Jianshu didn’t get involved in such pointless discussions. He just sat at his desk, playing on his computer.

Qiao Song also said little, mostly sitting with his back to Ling Jianshu, quietly reading Western Art History or doing musical analysis.

One night, after taking a shower, he sneezed twice in quick succession.

Ling Jianshu stopped typing, reached over the back of his chair, and handed him his white down jacket, asking with concern, “Caught a cold?”

Qiao Song put on the jacket and shook his head, “Not really. Maybe someone’s scolding me.”

Ling Jianshu asked, “Who would scold you?”

Qiao Song smiled, “Oh, there are plenty of people. Not everyone is my roommate.”

Ling Jianshu said, “Next time, let me know if that happens.”

Qiao Song replied, “So, does that mean I can ask you to stand up for me in the future?”

Ling Jianshu asked, “Who else would you want to ask?”

Qiao Song laughed and said, “No one else, just you.”

After chatting for a while, he suddenly remembered something and changed the subject, “By the way, this heater you bought is really effective. In previous years, I’d always catch a cold before the heating was on. This year, I’ve barely felt the cold, and I haven’t been sick.”

Ling Jianshu, hearing this, quietly turned the heater up a notch.

But Qiao Song spoke too soon.

Although he avoided a cold from the chill, just a week later, the dormitory began trial heating. The sudden change in temperature led him to suffer from heat-induced illness.

Heat-induced illness is even more uncomfortable than a cold.

One morning, he woke up to find his roommates already gone to class. He felt dizzy, weak, and couldn’t even manage to practice piano.

He reluctantly called Bo Jie to request a sick leave, postponing the “Boat Song” lesson by a week.

The dorm was empty, with only him left.

Qiao Song, clutching a box of tissues, lay in bed looking miserable.

To minimize getting out of bed, he even tied a garbage bag to the bed’s railing, which was a rare move for someone who usually kept things spotless.

He skipped breakfast and lay there half-asleep until nearly noon.

Just as he was worrying about lunch, he heard someone open the door and come in.

He struggled to open his eyes, looking towards the door, and saw Ling Jianshu walking in with his long legs, striding towards him.

He stopped by his bed and, before he could react, reached out and touched his forehead.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too hot; he probably didn’t have a fever.

Ling Jianshu felt a bit relieved but still looked worried, his brows furrowing.

Seeing his frown, Qiao Song asked weakly, “What’s wrong?”

Ling Jianshu frowned even more, “I should be asking you that. Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

Qiao Song, sounding hoarse and weak, replied, “I saw you had already left for class when I woke up…”

“Don’t you have WeChat?” his tone held a trace of irritation.

Qiao Song, feeling a bit embarrassed, fell silent.

He bit his chapped lips, looking down with a touch of grievance.

Seeing Qiao Song’s pitiable look, he sighed in defeat, softening his tone, “Sorry, I’m not angry with you.”

If he had yelled, Qiao Song could have simply ignored him.

But hearing him speak so softly, his hidden sense of grievance emerged.

He looked up at him, whispering, “Then why did you scold me?”

“I wasn’t scolding you, I was…” Ling Jianshu paused, not used to such conversations, then continued gently, “I was worried about you.”

Illness made Qiao Song even more vulnerable. Hearing “worried” made his eyes sting.

He didn’t want to cry in front of others, not wanting to seem so helpless.

He fought back the tears, trying to stay calm, “Can you get me a glass of water? I haven’t had any all morning, and my throat feels like it’s burning…”

“Of course,” Ling Jianshu said immediately, going to the water dispenser in the living room to bring back a glass of warm water.

He propped himself up on the railing and drank the water in large gulps.

The stuffy nose and drinking made him feel a bit dizzy, and he swayed slightly after putting the glass down.

Ling Jianshu quickly reached out to support him, his strong arm crossing over the bed’s railing, his hand resting protectively on his shoulder.

It was a protective gesture, but not too intrusive.

Qiao Song steadied himself and took a moment to regain his composure.

When the dizziness passed, he handed the water glass back to Ling Jianshu.

Ling Jianshu set the water glass on his desk and continued to take care of him.

Qiao Song thought he should probably thank him in this situation.

But perhaps because he was sick and his brain was a bit foggy, he suddenly blurted out, “Ling Brother, you’re really tall.”

As he spoke, he even extended his hand to measure the height of his head.

“You’re really tall,” he continued, “Sometimes when I stand below and try to see if my headphones are on the top bunk, I can’t see… You’re much taller than the top bunk, so you must not have this problem, right?”

Ling Jianshu replied, “…I don’t have that problem, but I have other concerns now.”

“What concerns?” Qiao Song asked seriously, still holding his hand up above his head.

Ling Jianshu reached up, holding his slender wrist, and moved the pale, piano-playing hand away from his head.

Qiao Song, possibly due to his illness, interpreted this simple action in a different way.

He pouted a little and asked, somewhat unhappily, “Ling Brother, do you dislike me?”

Ling Jianshu couldn’t help but sigh, and said softly, “I don’t dislike you. Qiao Song, do you always act like this when you’re sick?”

Qiao Song asked, “Act like what?”

Ling Jianshu said, “Act spoiled, like you’ve had too much to drink.”

He pondered for a moment and seriously denied, “No, I don’t.”

Ling Jianshu decided not to press further, but Qiao Song continued on his own, “When I was sick before, I had to bear it alone, with no one to take care of me. I didn’t have anyone to be spoiled with…”

He was just stating a fact, not trying to garner sympathy, and his tone was calm.

Yet, Ling Jianshu felt a pang in his heart, like something had stabbed him.

Looking at the pitiful sight in front of him and Qiao Song’s clear, innocent eyes, he found it hard to say the words he had been holding back: “No being spoiled.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, conceding.

He helped him lie back down and even carefully adjusted the blanket for him.

Qiao Song was snug and warm, feeling safe and comfortable.

With his chin tucked under the covers, his exposed half of his face, and blinking his eyes, asked Ling Jianshu, “Where are you going for lunch?”

Ling Jianshu saw through his little scheme immediately: “What do you want to eat? Just tell me.”

Without hesitation, Qiao Song replied, “I want porridge.”

Ling Jianshu asked, “Rice porridge, century egg and lean meat porridge, or something else?”

Qiao Song earnestly said, “I want shrimp and crab porridge, the kind that’s made in a clay pot.”

Ling Jianshu: “…You’re quite particular.”

Qiao Song: “Mm-mm.”

… “Mm-mm,” indeed.

Ling Jianshu was almost amused by this little patient’s demands.

He curved his lips into a smile, nodded, and said, “Alright, wait here. I’ll buy a plane ticket to Chaozhou right now.”