"Jiang, you didn't mess anything up. I'm impressed."
He perks up immediately, his eyes wide and antennae flicking excitedly. "Yes! I followed what you said. Did I become a good boyfriend?"
I give him a thumbs up, half-smiling. "Yes, yes, very good."
He beams like a golden retriever getting a treat. "I sit whole day. I no open door. I watch the light picture box. I only almost broke that hot bread... square thing."
I blink. "Wait—what?"
He nods solemnly. "It made noise. I thought more food inside. I turned it upside down and shook. No more bread came out. But I fix it! I push the silver teeth back in."
I stare at him. "You shook the toaster?"
He tilts his head. "Is that what it's called? Toast-er? Hmm. Sounds crunchy."
Oh god.
"Whatever. Good. You at least didn't burn the apartment."
He blinks. "Was I supposed to do it?"
I freeze. "No, idiot!"
He straightens like a soldier, nodding seriously. "Understood."
I rub my temples. "Jiang, you're going to give me wrinkles by the time I'm thirty."
He squints. "Is wrinkle a disease? Should I prepare antidote?"
God help me.
I walk into the kitchen, drop the grocery bag on the counter with a sigh, grab a glass of water, and down it like I've been lost in a desert. Then I flop onto the couch, half-dead from the day.
Jiang Yu's antennae wiggle as he perks up. "Yunhua. That kid-creature of your kind—the cute one from yesterday—she sent one offer letter under the door."
I sit up. "Huh? That girl came by?"
"Yes. But I didn't open the door."
"Good boy." I narrow my eyes. "What did that offer letter say?"
He holds it up like it's a government contract. "It says: become my boyfriend and I'll take you out in park."
I choke. "Ugh. That little—! Bitch."
"What is bitch?" Jiang Yu tilts his head, genuinely curious. "Is she bitch?"
"No! No, no—don't say that word to a child, you idiot. This novel might get banned."
He nods solemnly. "Understood. No bitch word."
"Good." I sink back into the couch, massaging my temples. "God, now I have to watch your mouth too…"
"Do you want to crash our mouths? Is it kiss time? Should I eat your lips?"
He asks it so innocently, his eyes wide and antennae twitching, like he's genuinely trying to understand human customs.
I choke on air.
"What?! No! No one's crashing anything, and definitely no eating anyone's lips, you freak!"
Jiang blinks. "But you said watch my mouth. In TV, when people say that, they start kissing passionately."
I cover my face with both hands. "Stop watching dramas unsupervised."
"…So no eating?"
"No eating!"
"Food?" he asks, his antennae perking up.
"Yeah, we can eat food."
"Should I make it like yesterday?" he suggests, looking hopeful, already eyeing the kitchen like a kid with a candy stash.
"No, I'm making it," I say firmly, nudging him aside with a gentle push.
He steps back, hands raised in mock surrender. "Understood."
Jiang nods like a scolded puppy and trails after me into the kitchen, antennae drooping slightly.
"I was only trying to help," he mumbles, standing way too close again. "But okay… I'll just observe. Like science."
I sigh and shove a cutting board into his hands. "Then observe from two feet away, Mr. Science."
He brightens instantly. "Yes, Yunhua!"
I set the pot of noodles on the stove and turn the heat up, then glance over my shoulder. "I'm getting fresh first. Don't touch anything in the kitchen."
"Understood," Jiang Yu says, standing a little too still, like he's trying to appear helpful without actually doing anything.
I shake my head and grab some casual clothes before heading to the bathroom. His eyes follow me as I walk, antennae twitching slightly.
The moment I close the bathroom door, I hear him shuffle around outside like a restless puppy.
"Not touching," Jiang mutters to himself through the door. "Only standing. Like statue. Statue boyfriend."
I sigh, forehead hitting the tiled wall. This is my life now—babysitting a six-foot alien who thinks being a statue is romantic.
Water starts running as I begin to wash up, muttering under my breath, "Please let the kitchen still exist when I come out…"
Steam rises. So does my anxiety.
I quickly dry off, slip into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then walk out of the bathroom.
He's right where I left him—standing ramrod straight in front of the bathroom like a sentry, eyes wide and posture stiff like he's mid-military drill.
"Statue boyfriend," he says proudly the moment he sees me. "I didn't touch anything. Not even air."
I snort. "Okay, relax. You can move now."
He immediately drops the pose and follows me to the kitchen like a golden retriever with no concept of personal space. His antenna twitches as he leans in behind me, almost bumping my shoulder.
"Yunhua. Your hair is wet. Will it damage your core system?"
I pause. "It's just hair, not a nuclear reactor."
"Oh," he blinks, "you are very fragile."
I grab the ladle and flick a drop of noodle water at him.
"Not that fragile."
"Yunhua, can we merge our body?"
I blink, caught off guard. "Huh? What do you mean?!"
He nods seriously, antennae twitching. "In TV, when the girlfriend is tired, the boyfriend wraps his arms around her and collides his body with hers."
I stare at him, dumbfounded. "Ugh, it's called a hug, idiot."
"Yes, hug," he repeats, looking pleased with himself. "Why do you want to hug?"
"Cause you seem tired. You are fragile and weak." He says it so matter-of-factly, like he's diagnosing me.
I narrow my eyes. "Fragile?"
He nods earnestly. "Yes. You work long, carry groceries, boil noodles. You need recovery. Hugging is best for energy."
"Let me use less force," he says, already moving closer again.
"You don't have to—" I start, but he cuts me off by wrapping his arms around me once more.
This time, it's gentler. Careful. His chin rests lightly near my shoulder, and his arms form a warm circle around me instead of a wrestling grip.
I stand there frozen, hands awkwardly hovering mid-air. "You're really committed to this 'merge body' thing, huh…"
He hums softly. "You feel soft. Like couch cushion."
"…Thanks, I guess?"
"I like couch cushion."
Of course he does.
"You too," he murmurs, "collide with me."
"It's called a hug, dummy."
"Yes," he nods with those big, serious eyes. "Hug me."
I sigh, but my arms move on their own, wrapping around his waist. He immediately tightens the hold like a kid clinging to a plush toy.
"Happy?" I mutter into his shoulder.
"Yes," he says, voice muffled. "Very."
"Is it restoring your energy?" he asks, tone hopeful.
"Yeah… it is," I mutter.
I let myself nuzzle into his chest—warm, solid, and annoyingly comfortable. His heartbeat is steady, and he smells like... air and fabric softener? No idea how.
It's not bad. Not bad at all.
I close my eyes for a second. Just one second.
I've earned this. I handled a whole damn research center today. Overtime. Meetings. Missing scientists. Alien blood.
This is a cheat day. That's all.
Just a one-time hug from my totally-not-boyfriend alien roommate.
Right.
He smells… good. Warm and clean, like fresh laundry and something faintly sweet.
I sniff again, almost instinctively—
Wait.
Sniff. Sniff.
What's that—burnt??
Oh no. Oh no no no—
My eyes snap open. I yank myself out of his arms and whip my head toward the kitchen.
"AHHHHHHHH!"
I sprint.
The pot is sizzling. Steam gone. Water—completely vaporized. Noodles? Burnt sacrifice to the stove gods.
"My noooodles!!!" I wail.
Behind me, Jiang Yu tilts his head. "Is this part of cooking process?"
"No, you walking fire hazard, it's not!"