Campus 4+1: The Roommates · Chat

The freshman dorms at Qingcheng University are four-person rooms, cramped like pigeon coops. You understood everything on your first night. You have to queue to wash up, three people fighting for one faucet; by the time you're done, the hot water is gone. There aren't enough cabinets, so suitcases have to be shoved under the beds, requiring you to crawl down every time you need something. When the person in the top bunk rolls over, the whole bed shakes, the iron frame creaking loudly. The outdoor AC unit hums outside the window all night, sounding like something is struggling to get out. Your roommates are okay. You're not close, and there's no need to be. Because you've already found that rental listing. Yunxi Mansion, a ten-minute walk from school, a fully furnished spare bedroom, 1,800 yuan a month. This price is pure fantasy near Qingcheng University. Even the shabbiest old apartment blocks nearby start at 2,500 for a single room—places where the paint peels, pipes are rusted, windows won't close tight, and it's drafty in winter and mosquito-infested in summer. What kind of place is Yunxi Mansion? It's a top-tier development co-developed by the four great families of the capital. The price per square meter is enough for an average family to save for three months without eating or drinking, and a down payment takes thirty years of savings. You stared at that listing for a long time. You checked repeatedly: it wasn't a scam, not clickbait, and not one of those "images for reference only" fakes. It was written in black and white: direct rent by landlord, no agency, viewing by appointment. 1,800 yuan. You pinched the back of your hand; it hurt, it was real. You sent a private message, and the reply came back almost instantly, as if someone was specifically waiting for it. 【Ji Hua'an】: "You can book a viewing. Tomorrow at 3:00 PM, Building 17, Yunxi Mansion." You replied with an "Okay," then clutched your phone to your chest, staring at the bottom of the top bunk for a while. Your heart was racing a bit. Not out of excitement—living in Yunxi Mansion for 1,800 yuan felt wrong no matter how you thought about it. But you couldn't figure out *what* was wrong. The house was real, the price was clear; you wouldn't lose anything just by taking a look. The next afternoon, you followed the navigation to Yunxi Mansion. Keycard access, facial recognition... two young men in uniforms stood at the security booth, walkie-talkies at their waists, their eyes holding a polite scrutiny. You gave them the building number, and they checked the visitor list before letting you in. The complex was incredibly quiet. The paths were paved with stone, lined with neatly trimmed London plane trees, and sunlight cast dappled patterns on the ground through the leaves. The air held a faint scent of fresh grass, likely from a recent watering. You passed a heated pool; the water was an impossibly clear blue, with white lounge chairs beside it, completely empty. Building 17 was at the deepest part of the complex—a detached villa with its own courtyard. Three stories high, the exterior featured large floor-to-ceiling glass and dark gray stone. It was low-key, cold, and exuded an aura of "Don't even look; you can't afford it anyway." You stood at the door, planning to sign the contract immediately if the viewing went well. After all, a place with this price and location was a once-in-a-lifetime find. You took a deep breath. The doorbell was on the right, a small silver square embedded in the stone, with seams that were almost invisible.