College life unfolded like a slow-moving scroll. After the initial awkwardness and cautious probing, the three members of Dorm 302 gradually found their rhythm with one another.
Lu Zhao realized that Gu Xun's "coldness" wasn't arrogance—it felt more like a natural barrier. If left undisturbed, Gu Xun could sit quietly at his desk all day, untouched by the world around him. But when help was truly needed, he never hesitated to offer it.
This realization came from a post-class assignment in Advanced Mathematics.
"Damn it, what does this question even mean?" Lu Zhao clutched his hair, frowning at his workbook. He'd always been mediocre at math in high school, and college calculus had hit him like a brick wall.
Jiang Jin leaned over, took one look, and surrendered immediately. "Don't ask me—I didn't even understand the question. Why don't you ask the scholar?" He nodded toward Gu Xun.
Gu Xun was wearing headphones, focused on the code on his screen. Lu Zhao hesitated. Gu Xun didn't seem like someone who liked being interrupted.
As if sensing the gaze, Gu Xun suddenly turned, his eyes landing on Lu Zhao's troubled face and the open workbook. He removed one earbud and asked softly, "Stuck on a problem?"
Lu Zhao blinked, then nodded quickly. "This one—I've been stuck for ages."
Gu Xun stood, walked over, and leaned down to look at the question. He was close enough that Lu Zhao could catch a faint scent—like laundry detergent mixed with sunlight. Clean.
"Here," Gu Xun picked up a pen and tapped the scratch paper gently. "Your approach isn't wrong, but you missed this hidden condition. See, if you substitute this function…"
His voice was low, steady, and logical. The tangled mess of formulas in Lu Zhao's mind began to unravel. Gu Xun didn't give the answer outright—he guided Lu Zhao step by step to discover the solution himself.
"Oh! I get it now! Thank you so much!" Lu Zhao's eyes lit up with genuine relief.
Gu Xun straightened, returned the pen to the desk, and said a quiet "You're welcome" before heading back to his seat, slipping his headphones on again as if nothing had happened.
But something had shifted in Lu Zhao's heart. This seemingly aloof roommate had a surprisingly patient and thoughtful side.
That moment became a small turning point. From then on, whenever Lu Zhao hit a wall in his studies, he occasionally worked up the courage to ask Gu Xun. Gu Xun always helped—briefly, but precisely. Lu Zhao discovered that Gu Xun wasn't just good at calculus; he picked up programming concepts with ease, grasping them after a single lecture and even extrapolating beyond.
"Gu Xun, how does your brain work? It's insane," Lu Zhao blurted one day after Gu Xun helped him fix a stubborn coding bug.
Gu Xun was drinking water. He paused, set down the cup, and looked at Lu Zhao. His gaze was as calm as ever, but Lu Zhao thought he caught a flicker of something beneath it—something like quiet satisfaction.
"Just takes practice," Gu Xun replied, his tone softer than usual.
Meanwhile, Jiang Jin was integrating into the trio in his own way. Leveraging his athletic background and social energy, he quickly mapped out the school's best cafeteria dishes, cheapest drinks, and even which basketball hoops had the best bounce.
"Let's go! Third cafeteria today—heard the sweet and sour ribs are legendary!" he shouted as soon as class ended.
"Wait up, I need to pack my books," Lu Zhao responded eagerly.
Gu Xun rarely voiced an opinion, but he never refused. He would silently follow, sitting across from Lu Zhao and Jiang Jin in the noisy cafeteria, listening to their chatter, occasionally smiling at Jiang Jin's exaggerated stories.
Jiang Jin's care for Gu Xun was obvious—and growing. He always saved the best seat, brought Gu Xun his preferred drink, and when Gu Xun coughed a few times, Jiang Jin showed up the next day with throat lozenges.
"Jiang Jin, you're too thoughtful," Lu Zhao laughed, seeing the lozenges on Gu Xun's desk. He just thought Jiang Jin was a warm-hearted guy.
Gu Xun stared at the box for a few seconds, then said politely, "Thanks, but you don't need to go out of your way." He didn't touch the lozenges.
Jiang Jin's smile faltered for a moment, then bounced back. "Hey, it's nothing. Don't be so formal!"
Lu Zhao sensed something off but didn't dwell on it. Maybe Gu Xun just didn't like feeling indebted.
The real breakthrough came on a Friday night. The school hosted a welcome party, and Jiang Jin dragged Lu Zhao along, saying a cheerleader he knew was performing. Gu Xun didn't want to go, but Jiang Jin's persistence won out, and he was pulled into the auditorium.
The atmosphere was loud and electric. Jiang Jin was loving it, swaying to the music. Lu Zhao found it fun too. But Gu Xun sat stiffly from the start, brows slightly furrowed, visibly uncomfortable amid the deafening cheers and flashing lights.
Midway through, Jiang Jin ran off to find someone backstage. Lu Zhao glanced sideways and noticed Gu Xun's pale face under the strobe lights. His hands clenched on his knees.
"You okay?" Lu Zhao leaned closer, raising his voice over the noise.
Gu Xun flinched, startled, then shook his head. But Lu Zhao saw sweat beading at his temple.
A sudden thought struck Lu Zhao. "Is it too loud for you?"
Gu Xun hesitated, then nodded.
"Want to get some air?" Lu Zhao offered. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed himself.
A flicker of relief passed through Gu Xun's eyes. He nodded again.
They slipped out quietly. The night breeze cooled their flushed faces, sweeping away the heat and noise. The world fell silent.
"Sorry for ruining the mood," Gu Xun said softly as they walked back along the tree-lined path.
"No, not at all," Lu Zhao waved it off. "Honestly, I needed the break too."
Moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground. They walked side by side, silent but not awkward.
"I'm not good with crowds or noise," Gu Xun said after a while, as if explaining.
"I get it," Lu Zhao nodded. "It's exhausting. Jiang Jin thrives in that stuff."
At the mention of Jiang Jin, Gu Xun paused, then gave a quiet "Mm."
Lu Zhao sensed something subtle—Gu Xun's attitude toward Jiang Jin wasn't just distant. There was something else. Maybe… resignation?
"Jiang Jin's just overly enthusiastic. He means well," Lu Zhao said instinctively, not thinking beyond friendship.
Gu Xun glanced at him, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. "I know," he said simply, and didn't elaborate.
After that night, Lu Zhao felt the distance between him and Gu Xun shrink. He saw a side of Gu Xun that few did—his sensitivity to noise, his quiet pride in helping others. He wasn't a flawless iceberg. He was a real person, with preferences and vulnerabilities.
The dorm atmosphere grew more natural. Lu Zhao would play soft music while Gu Xun studied, careful not to disturb him. Gu Xun, in turn, would silently put on headphones when Lu Zhao and Jiang Jin got loud about games. They found a rhythm—respectful, balanced.
Jiang Jin remained the vibrant center of the trio. He dragged them to basketball games (Gu Xun was surprisingly skilled, though less energetic), organized weekend food hunts, and shared campus gossip with flair.
Lu Zhao enjoyed it all. One lively friend, one quiet roommate. He felt lucky. He even started appreciating Gu Xun's quietness—it was calming, compared to Jiang Jin's constant energy.
He had no idea that beneath the surface, something was shifting. The way Jiang Jin looked at Gu Xun—growing warmer by the day. And the way Gu Xun increasingly avoided that gaze. Seeds had been planted. One day, they would sprout and shatter the fragile balance between the three.
But for now, on this deepening autumn night, the light spilling from Dorm 302's window still glowed with the warmth of early college friendship—simple, untroubled, and quietly radiant.