Chapter 25: Getting Used to Your Celebrity Girlfriend

Qiao Jingjing finally felt like she’d regained her spark—
...was it really this exhausting?

She thought to herself, ears burning, rolling over and burying herself in the blankets like a startled ostrich.

Wait—
burying myself—

That soft, slightly rough texture brushing against her cheek wasn’t just cozy. It was textured, earthy, not painful but sharp in its own quiet way—each grain of fabric distinct, almost alive under her skin.

The bunny slippers slapped their way into the room—girl’s hair tousled, cheeks flushed. She tugged at Yu Tu’s loose T-shirt, struggling to speak: “Yu Tu… you… when did you change…?”

“What? Oh… while you were in the shower.”

“Then… where’d you put it?”

“Washed it.”

Yu Tu pulled her onto his lap, fingers threading through her dark hair. Jingjing squirmed, trying to wriggle out from under his shoulder to spot the washing machine.

“Dried it. On the rooftop.”

He gestured toward the balcony with one hand, his other already tracing the delicate curve of her wrist.

“Yu Tu… I think you’re gonna have to get used to the fact that your girlfriend’s a celebrity.”

Yu Tu had always prided himself on being calm, calculating—but as he climbed the stairs to the roof, he nearly tripped.

Still, problems needed solving. First order of business: order a dryer. Second: repurpose the dining chair into a makeshift drying rack. It would do.

For bed sheets.

For Yu Tu and Qiao Jingjing, mealtime was a glitch. Whether they could cook was beside the point—the real issue? No ingredients.

So Dr. Yu was sent back to the institute canteen for food. Miss Qiao said she’d eat anything: tomatoes, lettuce, cucumber, radish—she’d even eat dirt if it came with a side of hope.

Just as he reached the canteen door, Xiao Hu and Da Meng walked in.

“Hey, Yu Tu! Perfect timing!”

“We were just about to look for you—remember that boost in specific impulse from Xigong University’s engine? We ran the numbers…”

Yu Tu clapped him on the shoulder. “Talk tomorrow. Engines aren’t going anywhere.”

And off he went, hurrying down the hall, leaving the two staring after him.

“…What’s up with Yu Tu today?”

Dr. Yu rarely skipped study or work plans—hell, in the past decade, he could count them on one hand. But tonight was different.

Jingjing said they needed basic supplies.

“Can we use these dishes? These towels?”

She wanted to turn the rooftop into a garden.

“Let’s pick seeds—something tough, resilient, low-maintenance.”

And she wanted space in the closet.

“Just leave me two shelves,” she said.

“Jingjing, I’ve been right there with you every step. Now… how about you listen to what *I* have in mind?”

“Jingjing…”

The bathroom door creaked open—muffled, thick with steam.

“You can’t just break your word like that. That’s not fair, Jingjing…”

It had been too long. By the time the door clicked open, Yu Tu had already finished brushing his teeth, leaned back against the headboard, and flipped halfway through his new copy of *Small Thrust Satellite Orbit Design*.

Jingjing emerged slowly, dressed in a white nightgown, glowing faintly under the starlight lamp—floating, weightless, like a fairy descending from the sky.

“Jingjing… did something come to mind?”

Yu Tu reached out, pulling her close. She was light as a feather, so easy to hold.

“Yu Tu… do you think… we might not be compatible? After all…”

He kissed her forehead gently, tenderly.

“Jingjing… I was never good at reading people before. I let us miss years. But now? Every day we spend together will feel like two—or even three days. I’ll make up for every second I missed. I won’t let you cry. I won’t let you worry.”

Then he kissed her deeply.

“Jingjing… I promise—we’ll be so busy, we won’t even have time to disagree.”

Ancient melodies hummed beneath the surface—old, yet forever young. Sweat glistened on young skin. Tears slipped silently into the corners of her mouth. The rhythm pulsed again and again in the quiet dark.

“Jingjing… I was wrong earlier. You *can* cry. It’s okay.”

For the first time in memory, Yu Tu arrived last to the office. Da Meng raised an eyebrow.

“Yu Tu, what’s with you? You’re late. We were supposed to discuss specific impulse.”

“I’ve got a meeting now—I’ll talk later, during lunch.”

Xiao Yin, a quiet girl nearby, glanced up. “You okay, Yu Tu?”

“Fine!”

Actually, no. He hadn’t eaten breakfast. Morning… well, let’s just say things got *busy*.

At noon, Da Meng brought his perpetually overflowing tray to discuss his beloved specific impulse problem—only to find Yu Tu’s plate piled higher than his own.

“Yu Tu, you’re always telling me I eat too much at lunch!”

“And you told me you only ate a little during the Go tournament to avoid blood rushing to your stomach.”

“So you’re not worried about brain hypoxia?”

“I’m not afraid of oxygen shortage. I’m afraid of zinc deficiency.”

Jingjing woke up again near noon. Yu Tu had promised to bring her food back—but honestly, Xiao Zhu was more reliable when it came to nourishment.

“Jingjing, living so far away… how are you managing meals?”

Xiao Zhu hung up a few clothes Jingjing had brought, frowning with concern. This girl was pure-hearted—Lingjie adored her, and so did everyone else.

“Yu Tu bought rice. Says he’ll make congee. Got some veggies, eggs—breakfast’s covered.”

“Lunch? I’ll order delivery.”

“Dinner—he brings food from the canteen. If he’s working late, he’ll bring it back. And with all these fruits and milk you brought? I’ll survive. Probably thrive.”

She spun around proudly, then grabbed her phone.

“Oh! I need a nice-looking juicer.”

“Jingjing… you’re staying here until you join the team next month, right?”

Jingjing knew exactly what her assistant was really asking.

“Xiao Zhu… haven’t we always told fans to ‘focus on the work, not the life’?”

“I think I’ve found the life I wanted. Now it’s time to pour everything into making great work—*real* work. Not just anything.”

“Ohhh, I get it!”

Xiao Zhu pushed on, stacking bags of low-fat snacks into the fridge.

“Should I bring a coffee maker too?”

“Actually… I was thinking about getting a toaster oven.”

She looked at her assistant’s face—clearly skeptical—and sighed.

Maybe she’d save that dream for another lifetime.