A social phobic can also fall in love.

Losing two cups of milk tea, Zhang Miao deeply regretted it. Words spoken are like water poured out—they can’t be taken back.

“Uh…” He squeezed out a sentence as if squeezing toothpaste: “Learning to apply knowledge, that’s great.”

Yan Tingmo took it all in, sipped her milk tea, and said with conviction, “Don’t worry, I understand now. I won’t spend money on guys casually anymore!”

“You’re just too adorable.” Zhou Wen clutched hid stomach, laughing so hard he crouched down on the floor. “Great learning. No need to learn any more.”

In the end, Zhou Wen and Zhang Miao went out to buy milk tea together, leaving Yan Tingmo in the dorm to rest and casually scroll through Weibo and check his DMs.

He came from a single-parent household. His mother was already busy with work, so to lighten her burden, he would take time every week to do freelance illustrations.

Today, his DMs were the usual flood of messages. As he went through them one by one, most were snarky comments from his students.

His Weibo was public and transparent, with a username that was a pun on his real name, “Salt Water.” Due to his distinctive art style, many students from A University had decoded his identity on forums and found his Weibo, sending him messages.

He was honestly very annoyed—extremely annoyed. So annoyed he wanted to close his DMs entirely. But if he closed them, his clients wouldn’t be able to reach him, and they’d find other illustrators. Without clients, he wouldn’t make money. Without money, his mom would have to work even harder, while still supporting his studies and pocket money.

Thinking about this, he felt deflated.

Forget it. Just pretend not to see. It wasn’t anything serious, after all.

Dodging the insulting messages, he finally spotted a DM with a refreshingly quirky profile picture—a traditional lotus flower commonly used by older folks, bearing the words “Wealth and Prosperity” in bold characters. The username was simply, “Love Life.”

Finding it amusing, he clicked into the conversation. It turned out to be a potential client.

Love Life: [Hello, artist! Are you currently taking commissions? If yes, please let me know. Thank you.]

Such politeness, though the profile picture was too eye-catching. Somehow, it still felt endearing.

Salt Water: [I am.]

Love Life responded instantly: [Oh, you’re available! Let me explain my requirements briefly. The price is entirely up to you.]

What a straightforward person! Yan Tingmo typed back two words: [Go ahead.]

Love Life: [I want a drawing of two male characters—one top and one bottom. I’m not sure if you get what I mean. Since you’re also from A University, let me sum it up; you’ll understand.]

Love Life: [The bottom is a cool and beautiful young man with a baby face, big eyes, and full, rosy lips…]

As if writing a novel, Love Life went on and on with elaborate descriptions. Yan Tingmo waited patiently until they finished before asking calmly: [Do you have a specific scene in mind?]

This question somehow struck a nerve with Love Life, who fell silent for a moment before replying slowly: [Forget it. I knew you wouldn’t understand me…]

Uh, how exactly am I supposed to… understand you? Yan Tingmo thought. I’m not a mind reader.

I just praised your straightforwardness, and now you’re slapping me in the face? Ouch.

He knew clients could be fussy, but he’d never seen one this fussy.

Seeing the lack of response, Love Life sent another message: [Why aren’t you saying anything? Do you think I’m being annoying?]

Hurriedly, Yan Tingmo replied: [Not at all, not at all. Absolutely not.]

Love Life: [Then why didn’t you reply just now?]

Frustrated, Yan Tingmo jabbed at his screen: [I went to the bathroom and didn’t see it.]

Love Life: [Oh. I find it hard to explain this over Weibo. Why don’t we discuss it over the phone?]

On the verge of collapse, Yan Tingmo thought, Why does this person defy all logic? I’m a freelance illustrator, not a personal therapist you hired with money!

Salt Water: [Sorry, I don’t offer that service.]

Love Life then veered off-topic: [Why do you sound like customer service? Are you a girl or a guy?]

Annoyed, Yan Tingmo considered refusing the job outright. But then again, he’d already said he was available.

Feeling like he was losing his mind, he imagined herself as a superhero, diving into his phone and beating Love Life senseless to vent his frustration.

Love Life seemed to remember the purpose of their chat and returned to the original topic: [Are you still taking this job or not?]

Love Life: [If you are, let me describe the characters, and you can tell me if you can draw them.]

Looking at the pink profile picture on his screen, Yan Tingmo sighed bitterly. Of course, he’d take it. The customer is always king.

Salt Water: [Sure, go ahead.]

Love Life: [I want a scene of the top and bottom in a bathroom. The bottom is wearing a sheer nightgown, hanging loosely off one shoulder, leaning against the sink. The top is behind him, doing… you know. Got it?]

Suddenly feeling his eyes burn, Yan Tingmo tactfully asked: [Do you have reference pictures?]

Love Life: [No, but I have reference people.]

Salt Water: [??]

Love Life: [You’d know them too—A University’s famous cold beauty, Yan Tingmo, and the gentle, handsome student council president, Qi Xing.]

Stunned, Yan Tingmo fell silent.

Salt Water: [That might not be appropriate~_~]

Love Life: [What are you afraid of? They won’t know you’re using them as references.]

You’ve basically shoved their faces into the mix. You think they wouldn’t notice? Yan Tingmo thought.

Love Life kept going: [I won’t say more. Flat rate: 2,000 yuan. Can you do it?]

This… is so much money!

Feeling suddenly confident, Yan Tingmo replied: [I can!]

Forget referencing my face; you can paint my whole body if you want.

Love Life: [How long will it take?]

Salt Water: [Seven to fifteen days.]

Love Life: [Okay.]

Love Life: [I’ll transfer the deposit on WeChat.]

Salt Water: […??]

Love Life: [The deposit.]

Speechless, Yan Tingmo quietly accepted the payment and added, You’re a great person.

“Qi Xing, are you done yet?” His coworker Xiao Mi banged on the bathroom door loudly, sounding like he’d break in if Qi Xing didn’t come out soon.

Sitting on the toilet, Qi Xing closed the Weibo app and clicked his tongue. He unlocked the door abruptly, towering over the shorter Xiao Mi. “What’s with the rush? Need to pee?”

Xiao Mi glared. “You’re the one who needs to pee! Do you even realize how long you’ve been in there? What, can’t find air you like in the hall and have to breathe this ‘exclusive’ bathroom air?”

Frowning, Qi Xing retorted, “What’s wrong with you today? Take the wrong meds? Or got hyperthyroidism?”

“Get lost, get lost.” Xiao Mi stepped forward, yanking him out of the bathroom. “You’re killing me here.”

Qi Xing looked at his impatient expression and couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re wearing that to the bathroom? Want me to hold your skirt for you?”

Xiao Mi shot him a glare, gathered his long skirt in his arms, and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

Watching his exasperation only made Qi Xing laugh harder. Who told him to cosplay Snow White of all people?

Today, he himself was cosplaying Li Bai. He’d always thought Li Bai looked cool in the game, so he picked him without hesitation for the event.

Since he had started work early today, he figured he’d put in enough hours. He planned to tell Jiang Xuan he was leaving early; he still had unfinished business with the student council.

Just as Zhang Miao and Zhou Wen entered the café, they bumped into Qi Xing. The three of them stood frozen for a moment before Qi Xing nodded and turned to head toward the bar counter.

“Did I just see what I think I saw?” Zhang Miao whispered to Zhou Wen.

Zhou Wen, equally shocked, nodded sheepishly. “You did. That was him.”

“Whoa!” Zhang Miao exclaimed. “He’s so good-looking! Makes me want to cosplay too!”

Zhou Wen rolled his eyes. “Isn’t the senior you’re chasing the president of the anime club? Just ask her to help you pick out a costume, and you can cosplay too.”

Zhang Miao shook his head dramatically. “It’s not the same. Forget it—you wouldn’t understand.”

“Come on, hurry up. Let’s grab the milk tea and head back!”

The two of them quickly bought their milk tea and rushed back to the dorm, eager to share the news with Yan Tingmo.

Meanwhile, Yan Tingmo, with an IV needle taped to the back of his hand, had been avoiding taking showers lately since it was inconvenient. He’d been using a towel to clean up instead. Just as he was halfway through wiping himself down, he heard the sound of the door opening, followed by Zhang Miao’s excited voice.

“Tingmo Guess who we just ran into!” Zhang Miao didn’t see hin in the dorm room, so he began looking around. “Where are you? Are you showering? You’re still not over your cold; don’t take a shower! can you hear me? Say something!”

Standing stark naked in the bathroom with a towel in his hand, Yan Tingmo responded awkwardly, “I’m here.”

“You’re not showering, right?” Zhang Miao asked, still worried.

“No, just wiping myself down with a towel,” Yan Tingmo replied.

“Oh, that’s good.” Zhang Miao popped a straw into his milk tea and took a long, satisfied sip. “Where was I? Oh, right—guess who we just ran into!”

Yan Tingmo wasn’t in the mood to chat while cleaning himself. It felt awkward, as if he were bathing in front of his roommates.

Luckily, Zhou Wen intervened just in time to rescue him. “Let him finish cleaning up first, can you? Honestly, I can’t with you.”

Zhang Miao shot him a glance. “Pretentious.”

Zhou Wen didn’t bother responding. That’s just how he was—hard to deny, even if he wanted to.

Yan Tingmo finished wiping himself down quickly, changed into clean pajamas, and sat on the bed, ready to listen to his roommates’ bizarre encounter.

“You’ll never guess who we just—” Zhang Miao started, but Yan Tingmo interrupted him. “Who did you run into?”

“The café!”

As soon as Zhang Miao blurted that out, Yan Tingmo thought, Oh no.

“Qi Xing!”

“We saw him at the café,” Zhang Miao continued, clicking his tongue in amazement. “Who knew he was into cosplay too? Totally didn’t see that coming.”

Yan Tingmo remained silent, lowering his head to pick at his nails.

“By the way, did you know he—” Zhou Wen, curious himself, started to ask, but before he could finish, Yan Tingmo hastily denied, “I don’t know! I didn’t know he works as a barista at the café.”

Zhang Miao: “…”

Zhou Wen: “…”

Zhou Wen smirked. “Tingmo, you look so flustered denying it.”

Yan Tingmo froze, his face instantly turning beet red. Wasn’t this just a classic case of “protesting too much”?