The Ice Queen's Secret Romance

Chapter 18 – Morning Run

The next morning the tiny “good‑night” message from the fairy‑like senior lifted Luo Ye’s spirits. He drifted off to sleep almost immediately and dreamed of the night’s events.

8 a.m. – The Alarm

When the sun crept over the dorm roofs, Luo Ye’s alarm didn’t go off—he was jolted awake by the thudding rhythm of his roommate Li Hao‑Yang lacing up his running shoes.

Li Hao‑Yang was already dressed in a fresh pair of trainers, his lean, bronzed frame looking like a freshly discharged soldier. Everyone on the floor had started calling him the “fitness coach” lately.

Luo Ye glanced over at the still‑sleeping Wang Da‑Chui, who was snoring in a heap, and at Shen Qiao, who was still half‑buried under his blanket.

“Coach, you’re really disciplined,” Luo Ye muttered.

“You want to join?” Li Hao‑Yang called over his shoulder, a grin spreading across his face.

“Come on, it’ll do you good,” he added. “We’re hitting the track for a quick run.”

Shen Qiao rolled over, eyes still gritty.

“I’m a college student now; I’m not doing morning drills,” he murmured, pulling the blanket tighter.

Luo Ye thought of himself as a budding web‑novel author. He’d read that a sedentary lifestyle could bring on all kinds of occupational ailments, and the thought of becoming a couch‑potato made his stomach flip.

“Wait for me, coach!” he called, hopping out of bed.

He sprinted down the stairwell, the hallway echoing with his rapid footsteps.

The Track

The school track was already alive with early‑morning activity. In the middle of the lane, a familiar figure caught his eye: Liu Bing‑Xin, the long‑legged “loli” who always wore a cropped tank top and denim shorts. Her toned legs seemed to flash in the sunrise, turning heads left and right.

Li Hao‑Yang and Liu Bing‑Xin started running side‑by‑side, a perfect match of muscle and grace. Luo Ye fell into the third position, trailing behind them, his breath already getting a little shallow.

Just as he was trying to keep pace, another silhouette appeared at the far edge of the track—a girl in a loose black hoodie, a black baseball cap pulled low over a high ponytail. The ponytail swayed with each stride, and something about the way she moved felt oddly familiar.

Luo Ye’s mind drifted; his thoughts tangled with the flashing lights of the morning and the memory of the night before. His foot caught an unseen c***k in the pavement, and he went down hard with a thud that turned heads.

For a moment everything went black. The wind whooshed past his ears, and he felt a hot flush of embarrassment as a small crowd gathered, their eyes drawn to the clumsy freshman sprawled on the track.

He tried to push himself up, his palms scraping the rough concrete, when a soft hand landed on his forearm. The hand was delicate, the skin smooth as polished jade, fingers slender and white—almost too perfect to be real.

Luo Ye looked up, heart pounding, and saw the girl from the hoodie—Su Bai‑Zhou, the “fairy senior” herself—standing over him, expression neutral.

“Are you getting up?” she said coolly, the words hanging in the crisp air.

Her voice was as calm as a winter lake, but the mere sight of her hand against his skin sent a fresh wave of heat through his cheeks. Instinctively he placed his hand over hers, then, realizing how forward that seemed, he jerked it back, his face turning an alarming shade of crimson.

He managed to sit up, his legs wobbling. The other runners gave him sympathetic nods, but he could barely hear them over the pounding of his own heart.

Su Bai‑Zhou adjusted her cap, the brim casting a shadow over her eyes. She didn’t say another word; instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if asking him whether he wanted to keep going.

“Together?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Luo Ye swallowed, feeling the cool morning air against his sweaty skin.

“Okay,” he replied, voice trembling just a little.

The others on the track glanced over. Some recognized the pink‑hued hoodie as Su Bai‑Zhou’s usual uniform, and they frowned—she never ran with a guy in tow. Luo Ye, however, kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead, trying to mimic the steady rhythm of the runner next to him.

The run was harder than he’d imagined. After only one lap his lungs burned, his legs felt like lead, and his breath came in ragged gasps. Su Bai‑Zhou, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. She kept a smooth, even stride, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips.

Midway through the third lap she slowed, pulling a small towel from a pocket and dabbing at the sweat gathering at her temples. The morning sun caught the edge of her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw and the faint line of water droplets on her skin. A gentle breeze lifted a stray lock of hair, and Luo Ye felt as if he were watching a painting come to life.

He tried not to stare, pulling his gaze away, but his chest clenched.

“You look… good,” he managed to blurt out, his voice cracking.

“Good…?” Su Bai‑Zhou turned his way, eyebrow raised.

“I mean… you’re beautiful,” he stammered. “I—”

“Don’t stare,” she said lightly, a chuckle hidden in the tail of her words. “It’s impolite.”

She then noticed a thin line of blood seeping from a small wound on Luo Ye’s wrist—his earlier fall had left a bruised cut.

Without missing a beat, she reached into her bag, pulled out a pink, gummy‑bear‑shaped band‑aid, and held it out.

“Give me your hand.”

Luo Ye hesitated for a heartbeat, then extended his wrist. She pressed the soft, pastel band‑aid onto the wound with a practiced motion. The bear’s smiling face stared back at him, absurdly cute against the cool morning light.

A strange mixture of mortification and delight washed over him. The band‑aid was childish, yes, but it had come from her—the fairy senior herself. For a moment he imagined shouting from the rooftops, “She gave me a pink bear band‑aid!”

Su Bai‑Zhou gave a brief nod, then turned and started walking toward the cafeteria, the track’s edge fading behind her.

Luo Ye stood there, the band‑aid pressed against his wrist, his mind racing through three possible next steps:

Wait for Li Hao‑Yang and head to breakfast together.

Go to the mess hall alone.

Follow Su Bai‑Zhou and try to have breakfast with her—an idea that made his stomach twist with nervous excitement.

He glanced back at the track. Li Hao‑Yang was still running with Liu Bing‑Xin, their silhouettes disappearing down the lane. The thought of barging in on a “coach‑and‑student” breakfast felt too bold.

He settled on the middle option: solo breakfast.

The campus had several dining halls. The men’s mess (Cafeteria 1) sat right by the male dorms, while the women’s mess (Cafeteria 3) was closer to the girls’ residence area. Su Bai‑Zhou headed toward the women’s side.

Seeing that she was walking in the opposite direction, Luo Ye’s curiosity sparked again. The idea of sneaking into the same building as the elusive senior was suddenly appealing.

He turned around and started toward Cafeteria 1.

Halfway, Su Bai‑Zhou caught sight of his direction change, paused, and after a quick thought altered her own route. She slipped a few steps onto the path toward the men’s mess as well, the pink band‑aid still perched on his wrist.

Back on the track, Liu Bing‑Xin, having finished her run, slowed beside Li Hao‑Yang.

“Class monitor, who was that girl next to Luo Ye just now?” she asked, pointing.

Li Hao‑Yang glanced over, a hint of puzzlement in his eyes.

“What girl?” he replied, his focus still on his breathing. “I didn’t see anyone.”

He laughed off the comment, shaking his head. He was more concerned with finishing his set of laps than any mystery by the side of the track.

The morning haze lifted, the campus awoke, and Luo Ye, still tingling from the brief contact, walked into the bustling cafeteria, the pink bear band‑aid a tiny, bright reminder of the night—and the early morning—that had just unfolded.