Chapter 103: Side Story 3

“Hello everyone, long time no see. I’m Douzi, Peerless Handsome Dou dash Indifferent. I… am back from the Gaokao.”

In the video, the youth sat on a rug wearing a plain white T-shirt—the material had a slight, crisp translucence. Behind him in the distance, a plump orange cat was sleeping, its whiskers messy yet distinct, twitching in the air with every breath.

Dou Sheng grabbed an ice-cold Coke from the floor, took two gulps, turned back to give the cat a pet, and snapped his fingers.

“As everyone knows, due to an immense academic burden and near-collapsing psychological pressure before the exam, I went on hiatus for nearly two months.”

• “Near-collapsing psychological pressure”
• I believe your BS.
• You, a pigeon (flaker), actually dare to fly back?
• Grandpa, the UP you follow finally updated.
• Two months?
• Say it again, nearly two months?

“And after the Gaokao? Due to… cough, in order to recover from the near-collapsing psychological pressure caused by that academic burden, I rested for another half a month.”

• Heh.
• Heh.
• Heh.

The person in the camera broke character as he spoke, laughing a bit sheepishly and waving his hand. “Let’s just come clean. Xie Lan and I played like lawless idiots with our friends for two weeks, and I finally remembered my Bilibili password. So today is the ‘Reading Comments’ video I promised before the pre-exam seclusion. I’ve randomly generated some numbers to pick comments from the collection thread. I’ll answer any questions and try my best to satisfy any requests. Fine, but I hope it’s not something like ‘give me five million’—those are void…”

As he spoke, he pulled up a small window in the bottom right corner, dragging the mouse to the first selected comment.

“‘Ask Xie Lan if he’s still looking for a cat, the kind that will brew coffee for him… (Brackets: frantic hinting).'”

Dou Sheng read it word for word, his expression unruffled. Under the camera’s gaze, he stood up and walked into the kitchen behind him.

After a series of clattering noises, he emerged from the kitchen carrying a massive, bright silver coffee machine. The veins on his arms bulged; a vibrant sense of youthful power was on full display.

Clang.

He set the machine on the rug, squatted down, and tapped it like he was playing a piano. “The house already has a La Marzocco commercial-grade semi-automatic espresso machine.” He then pointed to himself, “Plus, a Dou-brand barista.”

The camera cut, and the machine was gone. Dou Sheng was back in front of the lens with a “cool” face, clicking the mouse. “Next.”

• Claiming ownership.
• LOL, marking territory.
• Don’t know, so I’m asking: Why is the UP’s face covered in a layer of iron?
• Just a boyfriend’s rage.
• Douzi: He already has a coffee (big) cat, do not disturb.

Dou Sheng cleared his throat. “Second one. How does it feel to turn your idol into your boyfriend? (Brackets: No need to emphasize, we all know he’s a ‘fake’ boyfriend). Followed by a winking emoticon.”

• 2333333
• Winking emoticon, nice.
• Yes, we all know it’s fake (real).
• What’s the experience of turning an idol into a ‘fake’ boyfriend?
• The ‘fallen from the sky’ kind.

Dou Sheng thought seriously for a moment, unable to help a smile. “This question you guys asked…”

His gaze drifted past the lens, settling on the window. He seemed to be dazing, but a bright light was reflected in the center of his clear dark pupils. After pondering for a long time, he returned his gaze to the camera.

“Only those who have felt it truly know; it’s hard to describe. If I had to say, it’s probably like waking up every day and starting to love the world… This is where the chat says, ‘Why is this UP so disgusting?’…”

• Why is this UP so disgusting?
• Why is this UP so disgusting?
• Why is this UP so disgusting?

Dou Sheng smiled. “We don’t do perfunctory answers for questions involving Xie Lan, okay? Actually, thinking back, since I picked him up from the airport last February, I haven’t really been unhappy. That feeling… how to put it? It’s like boarding a joy-train with no destination, heading straight for the Happy Planet.”

• Frantic sweet talk.
• I actually heard a bit of sincerity in such cheesy words.
• This isn’t sweet talk, it’s the truth.
• Mentioning Xie Lan gives Douzi a literal glow.
• ‘No perfunctory answers involving Xie Lan,’ noted.

Dou Sheng cleared his throat. “Moving on, next one—”

A third comment appeared on the screen. He suddenly knit his brows and read in confusion, “‘What positions are you and Xie Lan in, respectively?’ …???”

• Hahahaha!
• Straight to the point!!
• I bet Dou-Lan!! (Dou Sheng Top)
• Three-year veteran fan betting my life on Dou-Lan!!
• Same here, life is on the line!!

Huge waves of “Dou-Lan” scrolled across the screen, with only a few lonely “Lan-Dou” comments mixed in—”Holding the fort for Lan-Lan for two seconds.”

Dou Sheng frowned, looking dead serious. “What kind of garbage question is this? I don’t understand. Hiss—oh, are you asking about the Gaokao?”

He paused mid-speech, giving the audience time to spam the chat.

• Yes.
• Asking about the Gaokao.
• Of course, what else could we be asking?
• What were you thinking about?

In the video, Dou Sheng laughed. “Speaking of the Gaokao, unfortunately, after studying hard for a year and a half, little Xie Lan still bombed the Chinese exam. He went off-topic on the essay. In the end, he got a 60-something in Chinese, dragging his total score down to 640. Just barely passed the Tier 1 threshold…”

Halfway through his sentence, the sound of creaking stairs came from the video. Dou Sheng’s expression froze, and he whipped his head to the left.

From the stairs in the back left, Xie Lan suddenly entered the frame. He was wearing striped pajamas, his hair was a bit messy, and he was holding a mug.

“You’re recording?” Xie Lan said with a touch of morning crankiness. “I was wondering why it was so noisy downstairs… what time is it anyway?”

Dou Sheng’s profile faced the camera; his Adam’s apple bobbed. “2:30 PM. Uh, mainly because the light is good right now. I left lunch on the table for you.”

• Look at him, he’s trying so hard not to kneel.
• Gotta save face since the camera is on.
• Starting to re-evaluate the ‘positions’ after seeing this /Thinking face.
• No, this deepens my judgment of their positions.

Xie Lan glanced at the camera and turned into the kitchen. “Oh.”

• “Oh.”
• Douzi is weak, Douzi is weak.
• Is this what ‘one word crushing Douzi’ looks like!
• LOL, Lan-zai slept until 2 PM?
• My baby, was your spirit crushed by the Chinese exam?
• Wait, I just realized—60 in Chinese, but a total of 640?

Dou Sheng watched Xie Lan enter the kitchen until he vanished from the frame, then cleared his throat and sat up straight. He looked solemn and profound. “Say no more; deduce it yourselves. Next.”

“Next is… this: By the time this video is out, the Gaokao should be over and scores might be out. If they are, can you tell us your score?”

Dou Sheng hesitated. “Scores just came out a few days ago. Uh… I’m not hiding anything, but due to certain regulations these past two years, my score was hidden. So I don’t actually know the exact number. It’s a bit of a shame; after estimating, I thought I had a chance at a personal best. I wanted to know if I reached it.”

The chat spiked instantly.

• HIDDEN!!
• The legendary ‘Hidden Score’ boss.
• Holy crap, I’m kneeling.
• What’s a hidden score?
• Education corner: To stop the hype over ‘Top Scorers,’ ultra-high scores in the province are hidden.
• What does the hidden score interface look like? I’m so curious.
• Douzi always jokes about being the provincial top scorer, he couldn’t be serious, right?
• Probably not a joke. My relative is in H-City; he really was No. 1 in his grade at a top school…

Dou Sheng clicked his mouse, and a table showing the H-Province Science score distribution soon appeared in the bottom right corner. The top row showed: [Above 705 points: 10 people].

The mouse circled that area. “I can only tell you I’m in this range. I really don’t know the exact score. But based on what the T-University admissions office said, my priority for choosing a major is quite high. Anyway, next.”

• Don’t ‘anyway’ us! What does that mean?
• Speak up, man!
• Douzi probably guessed his provincial rank in his heart, he just can’t say it.
• You can only guess that confidently if you score astronomically high.
• Insider info: His lowest score in senior year mock exams never dropped below 720.
• Then a ‘personal best’ would be…
• Holy crap, I think I get it…

The mouse jumped to the fifth selected comment.

[Douzi, Douzi, what major do you plan to choose? So curious!]

“Mentioning this makes my mentality collapse a bit,” Dou Sheng said, looking both helpless and amused as he rubbed his face. “Long-time viewers know I’m a casual guy. I wanted to study something interesting or something that touches on human nature. I went through T-University’s recruitment plan. I wanted Law most, then Sociology, but both are for Arts students. Sigh, it’s depressing to think about. I didn’t use my brain when choosing between Arts and Sciences back then. Lacked life planning.”

• You really are too carefree.
• I’m an Arts student, no offense, but with Douzi’s brain, there’s no reason not to choose Science.
• Or study Math with Lan-zai?
• Xie Lan’s quote: ‘Math is so interesting.’
• Law! Douzi study Law!
• Lawyer Douzi! Suit Douzi! Debating everyone!

Dou Sheng gave a heavy sigh. “I’ve talked to some seniors and admissions teachers. Currently, the plan is to study Economics in freshman year and transfer to Law in sophomore year. Anyway… it’s fine. Freshman courses for all majors are similar. I heard Economics majors learn basic economic principles in the first year. I’ll do some social practice and make some videos out of it.”

• LOL, his head is full of making videos.
• I’m starting to doubt your motive for studying Law.
• Probably wants to add a ‘Douzi’s Case Files’ column to his channel.
• What to do when the UP I follow is too professional?
• Economics: “So I should just leave??”

“Next.”

A comment appeared. Dou Sheng finally curled his lips into a smile. “What are the video plans for this summer? Hey, ask more questions like this; they’re meaningful. Wait a second.”

He stood up, grabbed his backpack from the sofa, rummaged through it, and looked blank for a moment.

“Xie Lan.” The camera looked up at him from a low angle as he walked into the kitchen. “Is my planning notebook with you?”

Xie Lan’s low voice replied from the kitchen. Soon, Dou Sheng ran upstairs and came back down with the notebook.

The screen switched to vertical phone footage, focusing on the notes in the planner. Judging by the different ink colors, depths, and messiness, it definitely wasn’t written in one sitting. He had clearly spent a lot of time on this before the Gaokao.

Dou Sheng’s finger pointed at the planner. “First, this list: these are the games I’m reviewing. Some might be livestreams; I haven’t decided the split, but roughly one per week. These digital devices here also need reviews. Then next week, Young Swordsman 2 is airing. There are some offline events I’m going to accompany Xie Lan to. There will be VLOGs.”

• Nice!
• Are we getting the Big-Cat and Small-Cat Travel Diaries again?
• Speaking of that! Lan-zai’s new arrangement is so good!
• Don’t forget to listen to the song after the video!
• Young Swordsman 2 released a 30s PV, arranged and performed by Xie Lan.

On the planner, next to [S-City Offline Event with Er-Mao], there were doodles of two leaves and a cat head. Dou Sheng’s finger rubbed the cute cat head and pointed below. “Then I want to do a Gaokao-related topic regarding exam results vs. life paths, and different majors vs. actual career paths. I want to do this one seriously; it might start a ‘Life Observation’ column. It requires a lot of networking. I’ll tell you guys once I have the production idea finalized.”

“The last one is the Record of a Returnee Child’s Hardcore High School Survival, which I’ve been recording intermittently for a year and a half. I’m a bit conflicted about this one… there’s too much footage that… can’t be released. But if I cut it, many things aren’t complete and the ‘bits’ are gone.”

The chat tactfully changed their font color to yellow (signaling ‘adult’ content).

• What footage can’t be released?
• Elaborate.
• Sit down and tell us in detail.
• Release it and we’ll help you figure out how to edit it.
• Right, let’s do a co-creation?

The camera switched back to normal recording. Dou Sheng was kneeling on the rug holding his phone, turning his head toward the kitchen. “Xie Lan, should I release the Hardcore High School video or not?”

The house was silent for a few seconds.

“Release it and you’re dead,” Xie Lan’s cold voice came from the kitchen.

• 2333333
• Dying of laughter.
• In this moment, Lan-zai’s reaction and pronunciation are those of a 100% authentic Chinese person.

Dou Sheng sighed and curled his lip. “You heard him; I’m not allowed. I’ll grab a few funny clips for the ‘Dynamics’ feed later.”

His throat felt a bit dry, so he sat back down and gulped some Coke, then scanned the sky outside the window behind the lens. “We’ve been recording for a while; the light is going to get bad soon. Let’s read one last one.”

He dragged the mouse randomly, stopping at the seventh comment.

[Douzi, Douzi, do you dare to accept this ‘Try Not to Feel’ challenge? I’ve selected beautiful girls and boys from all over the web (since I really don’t know your orientation, please bear with it if I’ve offended you), hehe. I’ve pinned the video on my Weibo, my ID is @LanZaiDouNiWan.]

Dou Sheng read it word for word and gave an indifferent, cold laugh. “This isn’t much of a challenge, is it? Showing me this? Me, a student who just finished the Gaokao—do I even know what it means to feel ‘moved’?”

• Fake, just keep faking.
• Do you dare to click it?
• The people coming back from the end of the video are dying of laughter.
• High-energy face-slapping ahead.

“Fine, a man of his word. Let’s click it. Wait a moment while I adjust the screen.”

The video window ratio quickly changed. The camera filming Dou Sheng became vertical, occupying only one-third of the screen, while the other side switched to the Weibo video.

“Five minutes, quite long. How much did they edit?” Dou Sheng muttered as he got ready. “How do you record a ‘Try Not to Feel’ challenge? No laughing, no blushing, right? No difficulty. Let’s start.”

With a crisp click of the mouse, the video began.

Segment 1: A S-curve beauty in a blue dress danced on screen to a “sweet-style” song. The sway of her waist and hips was subtle yet perfectly embodied a teasing allure. The chat briefly went off-topic to praise her.

• THE BLUE BATTLE SUIT!! (A famous internet meme for a specific dress)
• Oh, this.
• This friend has good taste.
• The blue suit really hits me.
• I’m a girl, and even I love the blue suit sister.

On the right half of the screen, Dou Sheng’s face was even more expressionless than before he clicked. He looked at the chat’s “goddess” with the same gaze one uses for boring news. He endured those twenty seconds with total indifference.

Segment 2: A boy in a white T-shirt walked slowly toward the camera under the sun. His looks and aura fit the “school puppy” type—fair skin, two small dimples when he smiled. He lightly tapped the lens and whispered, “Want to play ball together?”

Dou Sheng’s face was practically numb. “No thanks.”

• Oh? So Douzi doesn’t like this type?
• Aura and speech aside, his features look a tiny bit like Lan-zai.
• But Douzi really had zero reaction.
• Shouldn’t you have some reaction when seeing someone who looks a bit like the person you like?
• I’m panicking, are they really fake boyfriends?

Dou Sheng, recording the video, couldn’t see the chat. He just continued staring at the screen expressionlessly.

Segment 3: The style suddenly shifted. The music became mysterious and seductive. A man in trousers and a shirt sat in a chair with a black suit jacket draped over his shoulders. He lightly tapped a folded leather belt against his palm, crossed his legs, used the belt to tilt the camera up, and said in a “sparkling water” voice (a deep, husky voice popular in China): “Baby—”

“Holy crap.” Dou Sheng’s face instantly turned ugly. He almost slammed his laptop shut. He briefly wanted to stand up but forced himself to stay. In the camera, his fists were clenched, the veins on his forearms even more prominent than when he moved the coffee machine.

“Is this a ‘Try Not to Feel’ challenge or a ‘Try Not to Die’ challenge?” He finally recovered after a long while, looking like he had lost his will to live. “I almost died from the cringe. Please don’t mess with me like this.”

• I’m numb too.
• Who edited this!
• I would use ten bottles of Tide to wash the ears that heard that voice.
• I would trade 20 pounds of my own flesh for a pair of eyes that haven’t seen this video.

Segment 4: Another girl. Unlike the first “Pure Desire” style, this was a twin-tailed lolita. She rubbed her sleepy eyes at the camera and bit her lower lip piteously. The music started; she stood up, grabbed her skirt, and sang a J-pop style song—very sweet.

“Yawn—” Dou Sheng was clearly getting impatient, clicking the mouse forward. “Next, please. What even is this—”

Next.

The screen suddenly went black. A familiar voice sounded, carrying a hint of nonchalance.

“My mom’s emergency task. Someone is coming to stay with us, sent me to the airport. The ancestor even has a birthday today. I was frantic ordering the cake, who knew the flight would be late. Total waste of effort.”

Dou Sheng frowned in confusion at the first half of the sentence, then seemed to realize something. He instantly straightened his back.

The camera shook and switched to a casual clip taken with a phone after they got off the plane from their Top 100 “flash” trip in January. The person filming at the time was Dou Sheng.

Xie Lan’s hair was messy from the overnight flight. Over his white shirt, he wore the blue-grey plaid jacket Dou Sheng often wore in videos.

“I’m so sleepy. Are we going back to school to grab something to eat at the West Gate?” Xie Lan mumbled. He let out one yawn after another, turning his head to face the lens, his eyes wide with confusion.

Then, those eyes and lips leaned in closer to the camera, asking in a low voice: “Are you filming me or taking a selfie?”

The footage shook violently and cut to black.

In the recording lens, Dou Sheng turned his head the other way, lifting his chin slightly so his tensed neck line could help control his urge to smile. Yet his eyes drifted uncontrollably back to the screen.

The light in the living room was a bit dim, but the faint red spreading from the boy’s ear down to his neck was still so obvious.

After a long while, he couldn’t hold it anymore and burst into a laugh. He looked a bit embarrassed, but completely open.

“Fine… you guys caught me off guard… Wow, really… Normally I wouldn’t react to this video, it’s very standard, but the way you guys made it so sudden… sigh, forget it, I give up, okay?”

• THE ULTIMATE MOVE WAS AT THE END!
• FINISHING BLOW! XIE LAN!
• This really is the boyfriend’s perspective.
• Today’s portion of ‘dog food’ is full.
• “A student who just finished the Gaokao—do I even know what it means to feel moved?”

In the video, Xie Lan shuffled out of the kitchen in his slippers, cheeks puffed out as he chewed on something. He mumbled, “Not done yet? What do you mean you give up?”

“Done, done.” Dou Sheng immediately stood up and walked toward the camera. “Alright, that’s all for today. See you all very soon in the next episode!”

“Bye-bye!”

---

Author’s Note:

Cough cough!

Lan-Egg sat among a pile of envelopes and cleared its throat: “Next is the Egg House letter-reading time.”

Dou-Egg nodded beside it: “We’ve received letters from customers all over the world.”

The Keyboard-Thumper (Author) reached out and poked the two eggs forward: “Hurry up!”

“Don’t rush me.” Lan-Egg rubbed its shell dissatisfied and opened the first one.

Lan-Egg: “Lan-Lan, you are so cute. You are the cutest little egg in the Egg House.”

Its shell turned a bit red: “Thank you to this customer.”

Dou-Egg also opened one: “Dou-Egg is so cool. Take good care of Lan-Egg.”

Dou-Egg nodded solemnly: “Understood.”

The Keyboard-Thumper, unable to wait, squatted down: “Any mentions of me? Help me find them.”

The two eggs started tearing open letters.

…

Night fell.

Dou-Egg finished the last letter and hesitated: “It seems… none…”

Lan-Egg immediately covered its mouth: “It seems they weren’t sent! They got lost! We’ll go look for them tomorrow!”