For the second time, Xie Lan landed in H-City alone, and the person picking him up was still Dou Sheng.

As the plane descended, through the small window, he saw that the plane tree branches had become bare, their tips dusted with last night’s snow. The coat he had worn in B-City was suddenly insufficient. The moment Xie Lan met Dou Sheng outside the gate, he was swaddled in a down jacket Dou Sheng threw over him.

It was a down jacket Zhao Wenying had bought for them—short, puffy like a loaf of bread. Dou Sheng wore pale yellow, and Xie Lan wore white. Walking together, they looked like twin brothers, yet with a subtle intimacy that went beyond brotherhood, drawing many eyes.

As the taxi merged onto the airport expressway, the night sky and falling snow wove a unique romance over the city.

“Where is Uncle Xiao Ma?” Xie Lan asked.

Dou Sheng squeezed his boyfriend’s slightly cold fingers. “He went on a business trip with my mom.”

Xie Lan sighed softly toward the window. “Auntie Zhao is on another business trip.”

Emotions grow in silence. Without knowing when it started, every time he heard Zhao Wenying was traveling for work, Xie Lan felt a bit of concern.

The taxi exited the highway onto the Jiangbei Ring Road. They didn’t go home but went straight to the school dormitories. Tomorrow was Tuesday. As a recommended student, Xie Lan could have taken leave to rest, but he only wanted to be with Dou Sheng.

“By the way, how was your mock exam?” Xie Lan suddenly remembered to ask.

Dou Sheng muttered, “I didn’t feel anything. I’ve already gone numb from testing.”

Yingzhong High School was going wild this year. The Physics & Math Class A and the All-Subjects Class A skipped the first round of review, entering “Hell Mode” immediately upon starting senior year. There were mock exams every half-month and single-subject weekly tests. Xie Lan was experiencing the “hardcore” nature of domestic exam-oriented education firsthand for the first time. Even though he was already admitted, he still developed a slight fear of school and exams.

Who wouldn’t be afraid when you have to write a full-length essay every day?

It was past 10:00 PM when they reached the dorm. Soon after they sat down, the hallway echoed with the chaotic footsteps of seniors finishing class.

Che Ziming pushed the door open. “You’re back?”

Xie Lan hummed. “Just arrived.”

“Where are Dai You and ‘Gouzi’ (Wang Gou)?” Che Ziming asked.

Dai You and Wang Gou had also placed well in the provincial league and joined the winter camp with Xie Lan. Xie Lan answered casually, “Dai You comes back tomorrow. Wang Gou still has a few special recruitment exams; several schools have their eyes on him.”

Competition admission rules in China are complex. Beyond the qualification exams after the provincial league, entering the winter camp offers two more waves of admission—before and after the final scores are released. This is called “Special Recruitment” (Diǎnzhao) and doesn’t count toward the provincial quota.

Wang Gou had performed brilliantly at the winter camp. He started ranked outside the top 30 but skyrocketed, reaching 4th place by the final test before the CMO National Finals. All the coaches were watching him. Even before the final results were out, he was being pulled by the top two universities and F-University for recruitment. Before Xie Lan left the apartment, he had seen Wang Gou blushing with happiness, agonizing over which one to choose.

“Gouzi has jumped through the Dragon Gate. We should call him Dragon-Gou from now on,” Che Ziming remarked with a click of his tongue. “Me and the ill-fated ‘Herring’ (Yu Fei) tanked the league and now have to prepare for independent recruitment. Why are we so miserable?”

Xie Lan began to formulate a response. “Actually, you shouldn’t think like that. You guys clearly have…”

Yu Fei, passing by outside, said irritably, “I’m going out to buy a scallion pancake. Do you want one?”

“I’m going with you!” Che Ziming immediately turned to follow him. “I want a grilled sausage!”

Xie Lan was left standing there, staring blankly at the door for a long time before awkwardly leaning back in his chair.

Dou Sheng laughed while organizing papers. “No need to comfort them. Che Ziming has a ‘battle-to-the-death’ complex; his goal is the glory of a Top 10 province rank in the Gaokao. Yu Fei… well, he’s probably just looking forward to confessing to Liu Yixuan after the Gaokao is over.”

Xie Lan sighed. “Do you think Liu Yixuan will say yes?”

Dou Sheng spread out a science mock paper. “Doubtful… Oh right, the papers and homework you accumulated over the last half-month are in your locker.”

Xie Lan gave an “oh,” turned the key in the locker door, and pulled it open.

Then, he stood there in silence for a full ten seconds.

“May I ask…” He looked at the floor-to-ceiling stack of materials inside. “Where are the clothes and snacks I originally kept here?”

“They wouldn’t fit,” Dou Sheng said, rapidly sketching a force analysis diagram. “I took some of the thinner clothes home and stuffed the rest into my locker for you.”

Xie Lan was silent again. A moment later, he gently closed the locker door exactly as it was.

The key turned silently, locking it tight.

He couldn’t make a sound; he might wake the sleeping demons inside the cabinet.

“Thank you so much,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching in a fake smile at Dou Sheng.

---

December was the longest winter that would remain in the memory of every senior.

They were always sleepy in the morning. After the morning exercise, their lungs felt like they were being scraped by knives. The stack of papers on their desks never cleared. Every day, they looked forward to the 5:00 PM break; by then, it was already dark outside. The campus speakers played music while groups of students, huffing white mist, strolled to the West Gate to buy Oden, which they had to finish in the cold wind before entering the classroom to avoid being caught by Hu Xiujie.

In mid-December, the CMO National Finals results were posted. Xie Lan had scored a spine-tingling first place for the National First Prize. Furthermore, the first wave of pre-admission score reductions was finalized—Xie Lan was admitted to T-University, Wang Gou to P-University, and Dai You and Dong Shuijian to F-University. Over a dozen others in the class received varying Gaokao score reductions. It was said to be the most glorious year for Yingzhong’s math competition history.

The teachers didn’t make a big deal of it to avoid affecting others’ mindsets, and the students didn’t discuss it much either. The “owls” of Physics & Math A were like a calm, composed army—attending class, grinding problems, and doing self-study. Many formed study groups based on their weaknesses. Xie Lan was in the [Math 140 Sprint Group], which consisted of the dozen students at the bottom of the class in math—who generally scored just over 130. He volunteered as a teaching assistant.

Between studying and arranging music, his energy was depleted every day. Lying in bed, his brain felt numb, yet it was incredibly satisfying.

Lunar New Year was early this year, on January 10th. Yingzhong’s seniors officially started winter break before New Year’s Day. The break was fifteen days, with them returning on the sixth day of the lunar year.

On the night of the 30th, the entire senior hallway was restless. When the final bell rang, students cheered and sprinted out of their classrooms. It was rumored that a few boys in one class got into a scuffle out of pure over-excitement, requiring several teachers to break it up.

Physics & Math A was also chaotic.

Dong Shuijian rushed to the front and kicked the door shut. “Everyone sit down! I haven’t finished talking about the homework!”

She stood briskly on the podium, clutching an A4 sheet densely packed with text on both sides.

The winter break homework handouts took an entire period to distribute; all the class reps were dazed.

“Old Hu is off catching troublemakers, so I’ll go through this with you quickly.” Dong Shuijian read through the list. “Chinese: 17 sets of mock exams, 30 reading comprehensions. Math: 25 mock exams; 30 elective problems each from the Improvement, Sprint, and Elite papers. The English listening files are in the group chat, plus two specialized workbooks. Physics… Old Hu split us into groups. I’ll read the names—Group A will do the Mechanics assault: Che Ziming, Mao Lengxue…”

Xie Lan’s head ached just listening.

The class started by complaining loudly, but soon everyone joined the army of checking materials. The classroom was submerged in the sound of rustling papers.

By the time they finished checking the homework at 11:30 PM, the entire hallway was silent.

Xie Lan weakly scrolled through his WeChat Moments and saw a short video from Rong Xinxin of the Debate Club: [Physics & Math A has gone shark-crazy; tonight the whole school is moved by them.]

The video was shot from outside the classroom. The hallway was empty, and all the nearby classrooms were dark except for Physics & Math A, which was brightly lit. Through the glass of the front door, a boy and a girl could be seen standing at the front, exhaustedly checking homework, while waves of white papers fluttered across the room.

Truly a sight to behold.

Xie Lan sighed and pulled out a Chinese literature paper.

“Are we doing 17 sets of full mock exams in a 15-day break?” he asked with a numb face. “Would you be willing to help me write them?”

“I’m willing,” Dou Sheng, wearing plain glass spectacles, whispered soothingly while checking his own work. “I’m willing to tutor you and write them with you.”

Xie Lan sighed again.

He loved the Chinese language. He loved the heavy cultural and linguistic heritage accumulated over five thousand years.

But this homework made his love feel a bit weary.

After packing up their materials from the classroom and getting their things from the dorm, the first semester of senior year was officially over.

---

They arrived home past midnight. Xie Lan showered and collapsed onto the bed, sleeping until noon the next day. He fell back asleep after lunch until Dou Sheng knocked.

It was dark outside.

“Wake up, little Xie Lan. you’ve slept two days into one.” Dou Sheng leaned over at the door to pick up the cat, Wutong. “The Bilibili New Year’s Eve Gala is about to start. Why don’t you post a Weibo to wish your fans well in advance?”

Xie Lan’s head was buzzing from sleep. It took him a while to respond with a hum.

Downstairs, Zhao Wenying was baking cookies; the house was filled with a sweet fragrance. The New Year’s Eve dinner was ordered from a restaurant, and Dou Sheng, wearing slippers, was downstairs unboxing the containers.

Xie Lan sat on the sofa for a while, zoning out, before checking his phone.

In recent days, he hadn’t dared to open Bilibili or Weibo. His DMs and comment sections were full of discussions about the “Top 100 UPs.” Last year’s list was released on January 10th; based on the countdown to the Spring Festival, it should be coming soon.

He refreshed his feed and found that the “Data God” had updated the prediction thread again, labeled [Ultimate Prediction].

As before, it only predicted him for the Top 100, not Dou Sheng.

Speechless, Xie Lan had to don his “Orange Cat at Large” alt account once more. Using the spirit he had honed while practicing argumentative essays, he replied seriously:

– Orange Cat at Large: Referring to the three selection dimensions for UPs last year: Creativity, Influence, and Reputation. Creativity looks at annual views and interaction; Influence looks at follower growth and response to official events; Reputation considers the potential to be loved by more viewers. From these three points, perhaps Xie Lan only beats Douzi in follower growth. But he started from zero; comparing them that way is unscientific. Douzi’s sincerity, innovation, and research in video-making are the best on the platform. I accept no rebuttals.

He spent ten minutes drafting and editing that paragraph before posting it.

By the time Xie Lan put his phone down to feed the cat and came back, it was already the top comment.

The Data God himself replied: “Reputation, simply put, is commercial potential assessed by the platform. Xie Lan’s commercial value is top-tier—is pushing a domestic anime to the No. 1 spot on Bilibili single-handedly not enough? Everything you said is useless; not a single word hits the mark.”

Xie Lan rolled his eyes at his phone and replied directly: “Your ‘hitting the mark’ is bullsh*t.”

This top comment quickly triggered a massive discussion.

– Brother ‘Stray Orange Cat’s analysis is serious, but you have to believe the Great God. The platform has really focused on commercial value these last two years.

– Long-time Dou-fan here. Honestly, the site invited Xie Lan to lead the orchestra at the gala—they can probably use that gimmick to pull in sponsors. That’s commercial value. Douzi can’t walk that path, though he has his own sky where no one can outshine him.

– I’m dying at the comment above. Has Douzi taken so few sponsorships that you misunderstand his commercial value?

– The commercial value the platform considers isn’t measured by how many ads a UP takes…

– Looking at cross-over appeal, I don’t think Douzi is worse than Xie Lan. Xie Lan is the kind of UP I admire, follow, and check occasionally. But Douzi is the kind of UP who makes my whole day happy whenever he posts. You have to consider fan stickiness.

…

The thread was full of long essays. Xie Lan was dazzled, taking a while to distinguish friend from foe.

He scrolled down, liking every comment that supported Douzi. If he saw one that put himself down to say he didn’t deserve Top 100, he added a heart emoji to it.

Just as his eyes were getting tired, Zhao Wenying’s Weibo popped up on his feed.

She had forwarded Xie Lan’s top comment—[Friends, you’re arguing so passionately, but do you know these two UPs are likely watching the gala together right now? They don’t care at all.]

The hell they don’t care.

Xie Lan replied with a cold face: Only the heartless don’t care. Those with heart and loyalty are still fighting.

Zhao Wenying called out, “You two, put the food on the table. Cast the gala onto the screen!”

“Coming, Auntie Zhao.” Xie Lan put away his phone, got up to carry the dishes, while Dou Sheng rapidly pressed the remote.

The three of them sat around the table just as the gala began.

The opening act was a symphony performance by a popular domestic orchestra. Operations had invited Xie Lan to lead them, but he had declined.

“Let’s have a toast, the three of us. After dinner, Lan Lan, don’t forget to call your dad,” Zhao Wenying said with a smile. “I wish for Lan Lan’s music to reach the next level, for myself to earn more money next year, and for Douzi and Lan Lan to get into the same university.”

Dou Sheng gave a dry laugh. “I wish for all your dreams to come true, for you to stay young and healthy forever. Earning money doesn’t matter.”

“I wish for Auntie Zhao’s good health,” Xie Lan stood up and clinked glasses with her. “And I hope Auntie Zhao is happy every day.”

As they toasted and Zhao Wenying sipped her red wine, she said, “You two start eating. I need to go keep an eye on the cookies.”

She hummed the melody of the symphony and went into the kitchen. Xie Lan continued to check the posts on his phone. Soon, he noticed the top comment under the forward had changed.

Dou Sheng himself had dropped in just now.

@PeerlessHandsomeDou: I’ve said it several times on stream and on Weibo—it doesn’t matter who gets Top 100. Stop with the ‘you vs me.’ I advocate for a happy life; don’t turn yourself into an idiot. Let’s encourage each other. /ClaspedHands

Xie Lan was fuming. He stomped on Dou Sheng’s foot under the table.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” The frustration he had nowhere to vent all evening was ignited. “Say it again?”

Dou Sheng looked up, the innocence and confusion on his face enough to fill a book.

After a long pause, he suddenly hissed, looking at his phone in disbelief.

“That ‘Stray Orange Cat’ is you?” Dou Sheng was profoundly shocked. “Wait, this level of argumentation seems… a bit… better than your… uh…”

Before he could finish, Xie Lan covered his mouth.

Dou Sheng laughed so hard he nearly bit his tongue. Glancing at the kitchen door, he quickly kissed Xie Lan’s palm.

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Xie Lan said, withdrawing his hand through gritted teeth. “What if the officials see it and think you’re voluntarily withdrawing?”

“The results should be out by now, probably within a week. It doesn’t matter what I say,” Dou Sheng sighed. “But speaking of which, did operations give you any hints?”

Xie Lan’s heart trembled. After a pause, he told the truth. “The night before I came back from B-City, they said a few things. You?”

“None, it seems.” Dou Sheng smacked his lips, natural and calm. “I heard that if you get Top 100, your dedicated operations contact usually hints at it beforehand. That commercial value analysis was actually quite right; you’re a shoo-in. I actually wondered before if it was possible for both of us to get it, but it seems there’s no hope now.”

Zhao Wenying shouted from inside, “Douzi, come help me take out the baking tray!”

“Coming!” Dou Sheng got up and pressed his hand on Xie Lan’s head. “Stop overthinking. I told you, I really don’t care.”

Xie Lan gave an “um.” “I know.”

But he felt terrible. He hadn’t dared to ask before, but now that Dou Sheng said there was no hint, it was truly gone. Despite his heart aching for him, he couldn’t show it anymore.

Feeling suddenly drained, he sighed, put down his phone, and picked up two spicy shrimp.

After nearly a year in the country, his eating habits were becoming more like Dou Sheng’s and Zhao Wenying’s. He could handle a few bites of spicy food; it was quite stress-relieving when he was in a bad mood.

The three of them ate and chatted until the gala was halfway through. Zhao Wenying grew tired and went to her room for a face mask. Dou Sheng and Xie Lan stayed to watch and clear the table.

Xie Lan carried a stack of bowls into the kitchen. As he put them in the dishwasher and stood up, Dou Sheng gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

“You…” He was startled and immediately glanced at the door. “Can you not do surprise attacks?”

Dou Sheng smiled. “My mom’s in her room; she won’t come out.”

On the TV, a pop singer was performing. Dou Sheng went over and closed the kitchen door, shutting the sound out.

He returned to Xie Lan’s side, wrapping his arms around him from behind and nuzzling his cheek like a lazy cat.

“We’re about to spend New Year’s Eve together,” he whispered in Xie Lan’s ear. “Time flies.”

Xie Lan’s irritation was instantly tamed. “It does fly.”

Ever since he could remember, New Year’s Eve had always been in London. This was his first time in China.

In previous years when Xiao Langjing was sick, he spent the night in the hospital. After she passed, he would spend Christmas and New Year with friends, mostly to hide away because he knew Xie Jingming would be frequently messaging Elizabeth. Even if his father was home, his heart wasn’t.

This year, he finally felt like the holiday belonged to him again. Zhao Wenying had been planning which restaurant to book for days, and Dou Sheng had been constantly talking about their year-end summary and New Year planning.

Dou Sheng was an inch or two taller than him. He rested his chin on Xie Lan’s shoulder. “For the New Year, I wish my boyfriend Xie Lan continues to be as free and brave as he is now, doing whatever he wants. And I wish he always likes his current boyfriend, Douzi.”

His breath hit Xie Lan’s cheek, slightly ticklish, but it made his heart feel at ease.

Xie Lan turned his head to kiss him. Their lips met briefly as he whispered, “For the New Year, I hope my boyfriend Dou Sheng keeps doing what he loves, and…”

“Does working for you count?” Dou Sheng asked.

Xie Lan became momentarily confused. “…I… guess so.”

“What else?” Dou Sheng asked.

“And…”

His train of thought was broken by Dou Sheng. He went silent for a moment as Dou Sheng leaned on his shoulder, laughing uncontrollably.

Xie Lan was speechless, returning to tidying the fridge.

And. I hope Dou Sheng gets what he wants—everything he rightfully deserves.

Regardless of whether it was important to him or not. He deserved the best. He deserved the applause, the recognition, and the love of everyone.

Xie Lan stacked the containers in the fridge one by one. As he closed the door, he lightly tapped his left index finger.

It was an unconscious habit. Since childhood, he would tap his index finger when anxious or when making a wish.

Perhaps he was invisibly pleading for the protection of the God of Violins.

I hope Douzi gets Top 100.

Dou Sheng walked toward the door. “Why did the music stop? Is the gala over?”

He pulled open the door, and the host’s voice flooded in.

At the same time, both of their phones on the dining table began to ring like crazy.

Dou Sheng’s ringtone was a bell—ding-ding-ding—ringing out like noise pollution. Xie Lan’s phone was on vibrate—bzzz-bzzz-bzzz—shaking so hard it looked like it was about to jump off the table.

Host: “The annual Top 100 UPs list has been released! It’s out now on the platform and official Weibo. We also announce that the Top 100 Awards Ceremony will be livestreamed on January 31st. On this New Year’s Eve, we thank all UPs for their contributions over the past year and hope for new brilliance next year.”

Xie Lan’s heart rate spiked. Before Dou Sheng could reach the table, he dashed past him and grabbed a phone.

It was Dou Sheng’s phone.

The screen was a string of congratulations from Dou Sheng’s fellow UP friends on WeChat.

– Congrats on Top 100!

– Congrats on Top 100, bro!

– Well deserved!

– Finally!

– You deserve it!!

– PeerlessHandsomeDou is the GOAT!

“Top… Top…” Xie Lan’s head was ringing. He held the phone for a long time, looking at Dou Sheng with a malfunctioning tongue.

Dou Sheng stopped two steps away, looking at the phone. He seemed to realize something, a flash of surprise in his eyes. “I’m in?”

Xie Lan forgot how to say it in Chinese and just nodded vigorously.

He tossed the phone aside and lunged forward, throwing his arms around Dou Sheng.

He held him tight, cheek to cheek.

“Congratulations,” Xie Lan whispered in his boyfriend’s ear. “You reap what you sow. Fortune favors the bold.”

Dou Sheng laughed softly, kissing his ear.

“Fortune favors the bold. What was the first sentence? I didn’t hear it clearly.”

Xie Lan’s brain was blank for a long time, unable to speak while holding him.

Dou Sheng was patient, waiting until he remembered.

“There’s an old Chinese saying that matches it,” Xie Lan said methodically. “Plant melons and you get melons; plant beans and you get beans (Zhòng guā dé guā, zhòng dòu dé dòu).”

Dou Sheng laughed so hard he nearly collapsed onto the sofa. “Then that sentence should be for you—little Xie Lan ‘planted a bean’ and got his ‘Dou-zi’ (Dou).”

Xie Lan could only nod, impatiently opening the official Top 100 list.

The list was sorted alphabetically, but Dou Sheng and he were placed right next to each other, one above the other.

[@PeerlessHandsomeDou_dm]

A single bean carries the expectations of the entire site for this youth. He looks at the world with clear eyes and expresses himself with sincerity. Observing people, observing life, challenging groups, and challenging himself. His videos are joyful and powerful, influencing more and more people. Where the sword points, the heart follows. Young man, please head to even higher places in the future.

[@XieLan_em]

This year, the British-raised child Xie Lan returned to the country. He is a man of few words, and his clumsy expressions often bring comedic effects. From covers to originals, he broke the ceiling of the music category single-handedly, leading us to discover the fine wine in deep alleys and performing high-brow music in a form that young people love. Likewise, young man, please head to even higher places in the future.

“He put us together,” Xie Lan whispered, looking back at Dou Sheng, the corners of his lips curling up. “And there’s an identical evaluation sentence—no one else has this line.”

“Mm.”

Dou Sheng smiled gently, a bright light in his eyes, just as clear and bright as the first time Xie Lan saw him in the airport lobby in late February.

He reached out to interlock his fingers with Xie Lan’s and whispered firmly in his ear: “It’s for us to go to higher places, together.”

(End of Main Story)