After dinner, Xie Lan returned to the dormitory to fetch his violin. He found a music classroom and recorded the violin part for his Jian Qi fan song, then imported the tracks into the software to merge them.

The style of this fan song possessed the clear, upright spirit of a young hero; the melody was simple but incredibly catchy.

By the time Xie Lan finished recording, it was past eleven at night. He headed downstairs alone, carrying his violin case and equipment bag on his back. The arts and athletics building had only three floors and was old and deserted, but it sat along a tree-lined road. As soon as he stepped out, he could see the plane tree leaves fluttering in the air.

Emerging from the building, he saw a familiar, slender figure standing at the entrance.

Nearby was a low, weathered streetlamp. Dou Sheng, who hated flying insects, stood on the opposite side of a thick plane tree trunk, letting the tree block the light for him. Under the dim light of the canopy, he was scrolling through his phone while waiting.

Xie Lan lightened his footsteps, approaching stealthily from behind.

On the screen was the animation Shao Shi Jian Xin Ming Yue.

“A cat is approaching,” Dou Sheng said suddenly, reaching up to take off his headphones.

Xie Lan was caught off guard as Dou Sheng turned around; his hand, poised for a prank, froze in mid-air.

Xie Lan looked embarrassed. “How did you know I was behind you?”

Dou Sheng suppressed a laugh. “There’s a shadow on the ground.”

“…”

Xie Lan let out a dejected sigh and started walking back toward the dorms. Dou Sheng followed beside him, laughing softly.

“You’ve started watching Shao Shi Jian Xin Ming Yue too?”

“Yeah.”

Dou Sheng was absentmindedly folding a plane tree leaf in his hand, turning it into a small boat. “The production quality of this anime is a bit subpar, but the story is good and the characters are well-designed. It’s a pity it’s so niche.”

Hearing this, Xie Lan turned his head. “Don’t you think Jian Qi has a familiar vibe?”

Dou Sheng blinked. “What kind of vibe?”

“A ‘Dou’ vibe,” Xie Lan said.

The person brushing against his sleeve paused. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

“You think he’s like me?”

A flash of surprise crossed Dou Sheng’s eyes, followed by a “tsk.” “So that’s it. I was wondering why you suddenly took a liking to an anime protagonist.”

Xie Lan curled his lip. “You’re overthinking it. I just suddenly felt a slight resemblance.”

Dou Sheng didn’t say another word, but his eyes were brimming with a smile as they walked along the quiet, dark paths of the school.

The video footage was clipped from the original animation’s promotional video; after silencing it, Xie Lan laid down the audio tracks he had arranged. He worked on adding subtitles until past one in the morning, finally managing to post the video just before his eyes refused to stay open.

[Xie Lan] “Sword Qi as Promised” | “Shao Shi Jian Xin Ming Yue” Jian Qi Fan Song

After posting, he fell straight asleep.

The next morning, Xie Lan was jolted awake by Wang Gou’s mournful “crowing.”

There was no wake-up bell during the summer session; the whole room relied on Dai You’s alarm. As it turned out, a groggy Dai You had snoozed it today, and everyone had overslept.

They scrambled out of the dorm. Dou Sheng ran to the room shared by Che Ziming and Yu Fei, giving the door a violent kick. “We’re going to be late!”

By the time he finished speaking, the group had already charged to the stairwell, leaving behind the sounds of the two inside clattering off their beds.

They sprinted under the scorching sun, bursting into the classroom with only one minute to spare before the lesson started.

Coach Kang stood at the podium, calmly adjusting his glasses. “You students from the main English High campus live in Dorm 3, right? Dorm 3 is the closest, yet you’re always the ones cutting it this close.”

Several of them apologized repeatedly. Xie Lan joined in with an apology before scurrying to his seat and unscrewing his water bottle.

It was empty.

The classroom was unusually silent. Coach Kang stared down at the podium without speaking, his mood hard to read. The last time he had been like this, it was because half the class had missed a question on the daily test that they shouldn’t have missed, leading to a collective reprimand.

The situation was unclear, but Xie Lan still glanced longingly at the water dispenser at the front.

Dou Sheng took the water bottle from his hand and whispered, “I’ll find a chance.”

“Everyone has seen the daily test results. This time, the vector geometry and basic number theory were quite unconventional, which exposed many people’s weaknesses. This was probably the most drastic rank shuffle yet,” Coach Kang said, his gaze sweeping over to Dou Sheng, who already had one leg out from under the desk. He paused. “If you’re going to get water, make it fast.”

Dou Sheng immediately sprang out and squatted by the dispenser. The water gurgled into the bottle; as soon as the green cooling light turned off, he stopped and slipped back.

Xie Lan only drank the chilled water from the dispenser; he didn’t like it hot or at room temperature. He took the bottle and drained half in a few gulps, leaving the rest for Dou Sheng.

Dai You asked his deskmate behind him, “Did you see my score?”

“78. You’re fifth,” his deskmate replied.

Dai You was stunned. “Fifth? Li Yuening is fourth? Then who’s third?”

“Li Yuening is third, Geng Rui is fourth.”

Geng Rui had dropped to fourth?

Xie Lan suddenly recalled the “normal” exam paper from yesterday and subconsciously scanned the podium.

Coach Kang noticed his movement and said, “Since some haven’t seen the scores, I’ll give a brief summary.”

“First: Dou Sheng, 94. You missed one case in the second question of vector geometry, but overall it was decent.”

“Second: Xie Lan, 92. Your number theory derivation was entirely off track. Your teacher, Old Ma, mentioned your background; in number theory, the problem-solving logic between domestic and international competitions is indeed quite different. There’s no way around it—you’ll have to put in more effort. Keep consolidating your question-reading skills as well.”

In the quiet classroom, there were faint gasps and sighs. Clearly, everyone had seen Xie Lan’s ranking before he arrived.

“Third: Li Yuening, 90. Yuening’s condition has been very good lately. There’s hope for the recommendation exams for the top two universities. Keep it up.”

“Fourth: Geng Rui, 84. Nothing much to say; geometry is too weak, and vectors made it worse. Your geometry is a major issue; a slip-up in the exam could cost you the top two schools. At this stage, all you can do is keep grinding through problems.”

Coach Kang went through the top ten and singled out Che Ziming and Yu Fei, who had missed their scores.

“The overall difficulty and the proportion of unconventional problems in this daily test are close to the level of the League Second Exam. There are fifteen people with a score above 70, and sixty-eight above 60. You can feel the distribution for yourselves. We are halfway through the training; there will be a major exam next week, followed by a review of the questions before the camp closes. The other coaches and I still maintain our initial judgment: fifteen or sixteen can compete for recommendation exam eligibility, and three of those will compete for the top two universities.”

After finishing his remarks, Coach Kang picked up a piece of chalk and began the lesson.

Xie Lan’s phone suddenly vibrated.

@Guo Ruize invited you to join the group chat ‘Provincial Training Bitter Survival Camp – Pure Edition’

It was a new group, and the member count was skyrocketing.

– Guo Ruize (Affiliated High): Holy crap, Boss Xie Lan, so you’ve been training with a handicap this whole time.

– Geng Rui (Experimental): Crap.

– Wang Tianbang (No. 9 High): Crap.

– Che Ziming (English High): Crap, how did you guys find out?

– Wang Gou (English High): Cherry, why are you following along with the ‘crap’?

– Che Ziming (English High): Different paths, but the fear of being dominated by Xie Lan is the same.

– Wang Gou (English High): Makes sense… crap.

– Xie Lan (English High): …

After changing his nickname, Xie Lan sent an ellipsis. The group was suddenly flooded with emojis: the Depressed Frog, the IKEA Shark, the Screaming Chicken, the Grumpy Cat… at a glance, it looked like a “Sad Animal City.”

Dou Sheng joined the group too, scrolling through the chat with a frown.

– Dou Sheng (English High): How did it get out?

– Geng Rui (Experimental): Everyone was shocked by the scores. Master Kang offhandedly revealed the truth and asked if we had similar ‘requirements.’

– Dou Sheng (English High): …

– Geng Rui (Experimental): Hahahaha ugh… who would want that?

– Wu Qing (Experimental): Who would want that?

– Xu Jingjing (Provincial Affiliated): I thought we were all fellow ascetics, but little did I know the Boss is not only a foreign monk but is also wearing nine layers of shackles.

– Geng Rui (Experimental): I actually thought about carrying you. My apologies; it truly is the world’s fault.

– Wang Yuxin (No. 9 High): Am I the only one who follows Xie Lan on that site? I’ve been wondering if there was a hidden story from the start…

– Geng Rui (Experimental): What site?

– Wang Yuxin (No. 9 High): …Never mind, pretend I said nothing.

As people invited others, the group quickly reached eighty-two members. The latecomers joined in the lamentation, with hundreds of messages appearing within minutes.

Coach Kang finished writing a problem on the blackboard and turned around; only then did the group finally quiet down.

Xie Lan rarely scrolled through long chat histories, but because of Dai You’s previous warning, he felt a bit uneasy. Pretending to listen to the lecture, he secretly read through the entire chat.

Fortunately, there were no snide remarks. Perhaps because Coach Kang’s explanation had been so straightforward, the students didn’t think anything negative.

Just as Xie Lan breathed a sigh of relief, his phone buzzed again.

— Geng Rui had pulled the top five into a small group named “Sprint Group.”

Confused, Xie Lan glanced at the teacher and quickly typed a question.

– Xie Lan: What is this group for?

– Geng Rui: Recommendation sprint. Let’s tackle some unconventional and difficult extracurricular problems together.

– Dai You: Uh, I’m not exactly in the same league as you three bosses.

– Li Yuening: Same here.

– Geng Rui: Oh, stop it. You’re already in the top three; I should be the one feeling inadequate, right?

– Geng Rui: But the range I can accept definitely isn’t just the Top 2. Let’s just give it our all; anywhere is fine. Besides, some of the other top schools aren’t much easier than the Top 2 anyway.

– Dou Sheng: That’s true, nothing is certain.

– Dai You: True.

Geng Rui was very decisive, dropping a question bank from Experimental Middle School into the group. Xie Lan opened it and gave it a quick scan; there were indeed many innovative problem types, especially number theory questions. It would be good practice.

Since courtesy demands reciprocity, Dai You also sent over the materials Old Ma had organized earlier.

– Dai You: Regarding Experimental’s bank, can I show it to my other three friends? English High only has a few of us, and their levels are actually quite good.

– Geng Rui: Of course. I’ll share English High’s questions with a few of my friends too.

– Dou Sheng: Perfect.

– Geng Rui: Perfect!

– Dai You: [Little Penguin Bowing GIF]

– Dou Sheng: [Cat Thanking GIF]

Xie Lan also sent a cat thanking GIF.

The whole morning was spent reviewing the exam. Midway through, Xie Lan pulled out the exercises from his kraft paper envelope and was relieved to find that Old Ma had indeed switched him back to regular papers entirely.

The feeling of bliss was overwhelming.

At noon, the temperature in H City reached unprecedented levels. Coming back from lunch, the sun felt like it was literally melting people down. For the first time in his life, Xie Lan understood what it felt like to be “stupid from the heat.” Dou Sheng had made small talk along the way, but Xie Lan didn’t understand a single word.

Never mind Chinese—even if a foreigner had spoken to him, he probably wouldn’t have been able to communicate.

Upon returning to the classroom, the expected coolness did not arrive. The air conditioner’s indicator light was off, the ceiling fans weren’t spinning, and there was no breeze outside the window.

Living hell.

Wang Gou was slumped on his desk like a dying dog, panting heavily.

Xie Lan struggled to open his mouth; even his lips felt sticky. “What’s going on?”

Geng Rui lay back in his chair, staring into space. “Didn’t you get the text? Red high-temperature alert. The weather bureau says it’s 42°C this afternoon. Power is being cut to reduce consumption.”

Xie Lan was stunned. “Power cut to reduce consumption?”

Geng Rui said hollowly, “The whole city is stopping work. Stay home to avoid the heat.”

“…”

Xie Lan didn’t know what the “city” was thinking; he only felt that his barely-maintained basic intelligence plummeted the moment he heard the grim news.

Old Ma suddenly poked his head through the front door. “Everyone, the afternoon is off. We are communicating with the power company. The training schedule will be extended, so don’t worry.”

The moment he finished, the “ghosts” in hell cheered, and the “dead meat” slumped on the desks finally came back to life.

Dou Sheng didn’t say a word, grabbing Xie Lan and heading straight out. “Let’s go home to escape the heat.”

Xie Lan hesitated. “Is there power at home?”

“…” Dou Sheng’s footsteps faltered. He turned back to look at him, equally dazed.

Everyone’s IQ had dropped.

“Fuck, I know!” Che Ziming suddenly jumped up. “I know a cold drink parlor that definitely has backup power. Want to go over and hijack their AC?”

The twenty or thirty people who hadn’t left yet immediately got excited. “Lead the way!”

“Are we going?” Xie Lan looked at Dou Sheng.

Dou Sheng nodded. “Yeah. Even if it’s crowded, let’s go.”

Che Ziming was thrilled to play the “savior” for once. All the way there, he chattered away, introducing the place to the people from D City.

Cold drink parlors didn’t quite make it big in other cities, but they were a specialty industry in H City. There were at least a hundred of them, mainly serving various drinks, snacks, and fancy ice cream desserts—places for people to chat and gather.

When they arrived, the twenty-odd people split into several tables. Xie Lan and the others were at the back; by the time they got inside, the tables in the main hall were gone, leaving only an eight-person private room.

There was no other choice. It was just the six of them, plus Geng Rui and Li Yuening.

The waitress brought the menu, and Wang Gou, sitting at the end, took it to flip through.

He was suddenly taken aback. “Miss, does an eight-person room count as a ‘large private room’?”

“Yes,” the waitress said. “There are so many of you coming at once that we’re swamped. Ring the bell when you’ve decided.”

“Okay.”

Che Ziming asked, “What’s up?”

Wang Gou whispered, “Private rooms have a minimum spend for drinks. A large room is 800 yuan for four hours, and that 800 can only be spent on alcohol.”

“Holy crap, that’s a rip-off!” Che Ziming was dumbfounded. “Are they raising prices on the spot because of the power cut?”

Hearing this, Yu Fei struggled to prop himself up, reaching for the menu. “This is my area of expertise. I’ll treat everyone. Let’s call it a celebration…”

His brain was mush from the heat. He scanned the room aimlessly, his gaze landing on Xie Lan, and he let out a breath of relief.

“…Let’s call it a celebration for Xie Lan’s return to the ‘throne’.”

Dou Sheng smiled. “In that case, let me treat instead.”

“You?” Yu Fei was too sleepy to keep his eyes open, holding the menu with some hesitation.

Dou Sheng said, “After all, it’s a celebration for Xie Lan. It’s only natural for me to spend money on my boyfriend.”

“Pfft—!!” Geng Rui sprayed out a mouthful of lemon water, soaking Li Yuening’s sleeve. He quickly grabbed a napkin to wipe it for him.

Li Yuening was also stunned, frowning. “Boyfriend?”

Being low-key isn’t easy, Xie Lan sighed.

Che Ziming quickly chimed in, “They’re both ‘UP-ers’ (content creators) doing a prank challenge. It’s not real.”

“Not real, not real,” Wang Gou also waved his hands frantically. “It’s really just a challenge!”

Dou Sheng smiled, biting his straw without a word, his gaze lingering on Xie Lan’s hand on the table.

Xie Lan immediately warned him with a look.

After a long moment, Dou Sheng gave a regretful sigh and looked away.

With Che Ziming and Wang Gou’s elaborate explanations, Geng Rui understood. He suddenly became interested. “Content creators? I don’t really watch Bilibili, but I have the app. What are your IDs? I’ll follow you.”

Xie Lan didn’t really want to discuss his online identity. Seeing that he hadn’t moved, Dou Sheng also laughed it off. “Don’t bother searching. Exams are coming up, and we haven’t updated in a long time.”

But Geng Rui had already opened the “Little TV” app and suddenly let out a “holy crap.”

“The very first recommended video on the homepage has your name on it? Xie Lan? This ‘Xie Lan em’ is you, right? Holy crap, this video has four million views?!”

Xie Lan was stunned.

Only then did he suddenly remember the video he’d uploaded in the middle of the night. He had woken up late this morning and had been in a rush all day, completely forgetting to check the progress of the review process.

Wait, four million?

Dou Sheng opened Bilibili, and Xie Lan leaned over to look at his phone.

The upload time was twelve hours ago; it had passed review shortly after being posted in the middle of the night.

But this view count…

Confused, Xie Lan tapped the video and muted it.

The opening was flooded with comments:

“Congratulations on discovering a treasure”

“Congratulations on discovering a treasure”

“Congratulations on discovering a treasure”

Fans of niche anime were passionate. In the video, they were posting bullet comments frame by frame, promoting the “niche treasure” character Jian Qi. Of course, even more comments were praising Xie Lan as “Number One in the World.”

“Number One in the World” was an exaggeration, but Xie Lan himself was quite satisfied with this fan song. Fan songs didn’t strictly follow the “mature musical theory structure and grand multi-part collaboration” Pei Qing talked about; as long as the melody was simple, catchy, had a sense of story, and could capture emotion, it was a success. He felt he had achieved that.

Moreover, he had poured a lot of heart into this track—first by cramming the arrangement framework, then by passionately creating it while imagining Dou Sheng, and finally adjusting countless versions.

This version was the best, and the one that broke his previous style the most.

The top comment was from Bilibili’s official anime account, which had pinned a link to the Shao Shi Jian Xin Ming Yue page. It had tens of thousands of likes and comments.

“I have a faint premonition,” Dou Sheng said softly, tapping the link to the anime.

The number of followers for this obscure anime had only just broken 50,000 last night; it was now approaching 800,000.

The “passionate fan” Xie Lan was utterly shocked.

Dou Sheng smiled. “You’re going to catch the attention of some big shots.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Xie Lan shook his head. “This anime was made by a small studio, a seven-person team.”

“Isn’t ‘Tian Ya Shen Wang’ looking to acquire them? Word is they’re already in talks.” Dou Sheng pulled up a news item and showed it to Xie Lan. ” I feel like… never mind, better not to jinx it. Let’s wait and see.”

Xie Lan didn’t quite understand the “better not to jinx it” part, only glancing at the news on Dou Sheng’s phone.

“Tian Ya Shen Wang” was also a top-tier animation company in China. The industry leader was Ling Xi, so Tian Ya’s reputation was slightly lower than Ling Xi’s. However, Tian Ya’s commercialization was more mature; although they hadn’t produced an industry #1, they released two or three A-level or S-level works every year. They had been expanding aggressively in the last two years, buying up several promising grassroots teams.

Only Yu Fei was seriously ordering food; everyone else was looking down, scrolling through Bilibili.

It took a while before Geng Rui finally managed to look up from his screen.

“Holy crap, aren’t you a bit too awesome?” He was dumbfounded. “With this, why are you even in school?”

Xie Lan didn’t follow the logic. “Why wouldn’t I be in school?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. Of course you should be in school.” Geng Rui was a bit flustered, waving his hand. “I just simply wanted to praise your sheer audacity.”

Che Ziming suddenly perked up. “Of course Xie Lan can be audacious! You have no idea what his background is. Let me tell you in detail.”

Xie Lan: “…Don’t.”

Geng Rui nodded frantically. “I’m all ears! Tell me everything!”

Wang Gou also pulled his stool closer. “I’ll provide the commentary.”

Xie Lan: “…”

The “rainbow farts” (excessive flattery) had already begun.

He curled his toes in embarrassment, only able to try and zone out, attempting to block out the voices.

The waitress arrived with the drinks. “Young Master” Yu Fei had ordered two bottles of Bombay Sapphire gin—it was all in English, and even Xie Lan, who had grown up abroad, hadn’t seen that brand before. In addition, a huge table full of fancy ice creams and fruit platters had been ordered.

Li Yuening, who hadn’t said much, asked, “Do you English High students always buy whole bottles to drink?”

“Everyone does what they feel like. Those who don’t drink have Coke,” Yu Fei said offhandedly. “I only ticked the two whole bottles to hit the minimum spend quickly. It’s easier to take the leftovers back… oh no, easier for Dou-zi to take back.”

Hearing this, Dou Sheng stood up to take the bottles. “We have class tomorrow. It’s best to mix it with soda.”

As he spoke, he made a glass for both himself and Xie Lan—a common Gin and Tonic style: a thin layer of gin topped with soda water, ice, and lemon.

Xie Lan took a sip. The alcohol taste was strong, but the first sip helped clear the summer fatigue.

He used the straw to poke through the lemon, then added a bit of Sprite. The taste improved significantly. He finished one glass in no time and pushed the empty glass toward Dou Sheng.

“Can you handle it?” Dou Sheng murmured while refilling it for him. “Let’s stick to two. Drinking a lot in summer feels great for a moment, but you’ll wake up with a headache.”

Xie Lan hummed in response. “Just two.”

Che Ziming had a low tolerance for alcohol but insisted on copying Yu Fei’s sophisticated way of drinking. He poured pure gin into a small glass—each small glass being a shot—and downed two or three in a row. His face turned bright red.

Geng Rui sat smiling, poking at his ice cream. “I can’t help but ask… so is Boss Xie Lan aiming for the Top 2 schools, or the Central Conservatory of Music?”

Xie Lan shook his head. “I’m not going for a music major. I prefer mathematics.”

Dai You smiled and chimed in, “Xie Lan grew up in Europe. If he wanted to pursue music, there would be even less reason for him to return to China.”

None of them knew about Xiao Langjing, so Xie Lan could only nod. “That’s also one of the reasons.”

Geng Rui choked on the spot. “Fine, fine, you’re the ultimate boss. Getting a recommendation for the Top 2 is just for fun to you.”

“Damn right!” Che Ziming started up again, standing up. “I’m not bragging to you, but our Lan has everything he needs. He has plenty of options! Of course, the rest of us aren’t bad either—can’t sell ourselves short.”

Geng Rui laughed so hard he sounded like a crow. “Right, we are also dragons and phoenixes among men!”

“No phoenixes.” Che Ziming waved his hand solemnly, pointing to himself. “I am your ‘Grandfather Dragon’.”

The atmosphere warmed up, and everyone began chattering away. In the noisy environment, Xie Lan lost the desire to talk. He stayed silent, biting his straw as he drank Dou Sheng’s “Boyfriend Special” and scrolling through video comments.

After a while, he noticed Li Yuening, sitting across from him, suddenly put down his glass with a moderate thud on the table.

The sound wasn’t loud, but it was distinct amidst the noisy voices, seemingly carrying an intention to get Xie Lan’s attention.

Xie Lan naturally looked up, offering Li Yuening an inquiring look.

Li Yuening was very self-disciplined, which was evident in his usual studies as well. He was the only one at the table who had truly only opened a can of Coke. Geng Rui, his classmate, had already started playing drinking games with Che Ziming and the others, but Li Yuening just sat quietly eating ice cream.

He took off his headphones and said, “I just listened to your song. It really sounds good.”

Xie Lan struggled to make out the words through the noise. He gave a polite smile and was about to look back down when Li Yuening asked again, “By the way, do you want to go to T University?”

It was too loud. Xie Lan leaned forward and had him repeat it before he heard clearly. He nodded.

After getting the response, Li Yuening sighed. “T University’s recommendation exam eligibility… over the past five years, our province has only been given three slots at most.”

He paused, a touch of self-deprecation in his voice. “I originally thought I might have a shot if I worked hard. I didn’t expect a god to still be a god.”

Xie Lan’s thoughts stalled for a few seconds; he didn’t react immediately to how he should respond.

It was Wang Gou and Geng Rui’s turn to play the drinking game, with Dai You acting as the referee. Even while playing, Geng Rui was listening to Che Ziming brag about Xie Lan’s Bilibili and YouTube exploits. No one at the table was discussing the competition or the slots, which made the topic feel even more abrupt.

However, Xie Lan could read people’s expressions. It was clear that Li Yuening hadn’t just mentioned this offhandedly. He had probably been holding those words in for the whole trip, maybe even the whole day. Since Geng Rui pulled them into that small group, he hadn’t spoken much and had been very silent on the way there.

Seeing Xie Lan remain silent, Li Yuening laughed. “It’s nothing. I just had a bit of a fantasy after seeing you make music videos. If you wanted to go the ‘artistic talent’ route, you probably wouldn’t care for T University. Those of us behind you might have a bit more hope.”

“Mm.” Xie Lan could only play dumb. “I can’t say for sure either. I’ll just do my best.”

Li Yuening waved it off. “You’ll definitely get in. You haven’t even shown your true skills before.”

The other end of the table was still rowdy, but the atmosphere at this end had become somewhat awkward.

Xie Lan didn’t know how to respond to that either. He felt a bit of bitterness in Li Yuening’s words, but he had no way—and no obligation—to comfort him.

Just as the silence stretched, Dou Sheng let out a “tsk.”

“You can’t really say that.” Dou Sheng’s tone was indifferent. He casually picked a lychee from the fruit platter, peeled it, and placed the translucent flesh on Xie Lan’s plate. “If Xie Lan doesn’t care for T University, then they’ll just recruit one fewer recommended student. T University isn’t some garbage collection center that has to recruit all three just to make ends meet.”