BWXS CH104
Chapter 104: Side Story 4
Host: “Why did you want to become a UP loader?”
Dou Sheng: “Uh… haven’t I said this several times? I want to spread happiness, to make my videos a part of the joy in more people’s lives… Yawn, I’ve memorized this line by heart.”
Host: “Why did you want to become a UP loader?”
Xie Lan: “Hmm? …To earn some pocket money.”
The Bilibili summer variety show Randomly Drive the Top 100 UPs Crazy drew Xie Lan and Dou Sheng for its first episode.
The UPs involved had no prior knowledge of this. On a sweltering afternoon, Xie Lan and Dou Sheng were both napping in their respective rooms when they received simultaneous interview calls from the operations staff. After answering a few questions groggily, Dou Sheng woke up and went downstairs to change Wutong’s cat litter, while Xie Lan tossed his phone aside and went back to sleep.
The matter was forgotten until the show unexpectedly went online, and the platform’s “malicious editing” spliced their answers together.
Xie Lan’s fans instantly went into a collective riot.
Another afternoon, Xie Lan sat on the sofa expressionlessly browsing Weibo comments. He had posted a candid shot of Wutong licking his fur with his paws up, no caption.
- I used to think you were just cool and aloof, I didn’t realize you actually didn’t care at all.
- Over a year of trust and waiting, all for nothing.
- We want YOU, but all you want is money.
- It was my delusion to think I could warm a block of ice with my embrace.
Xie Lan frowned for a while before replying to a top comment.
— “That’s enough, isn’t it?”
the original poster immediately changed their tune: “Caught a wild Lan-zai! Slurp, when are you posting a new video?”
— “Don’t know. Still resting.”
Xie Lan exited Weibo. The living room window took up almost an entire wall, and the afternoon sun was blinding. He was too lazy to draw the curtains, so he grabbed Dou Sheng’s hat from the sofa arm, pulled it over his head, put on his headphones, and dazed out.
The headphones played the familiar sound of his own violin. The OP for Young Swordsman 2 was called “Sword Heart Shines on the Moon.” He had just finished recording the full violin solo version. Once checked, he’d send it to the studio—a gift to celebrate the show topping the charts and a surprise for the fans.
The door lock clicked. He retracted his gaze and took off the headphones.
Dou Sheng entered pushing a small delivery cart stacked with boxes. On top was a large EMS envelope.
“What’s that?” Xie Lan sat up.
“Scores,” Dou Sheng muttered. “Admission notices are about to arrive, and the Education Bureau finally sent the official scores out.”
The “hidden scores” policy in H-Province was meant to prevent hype over top scorers and the poaching of students by prestigious schools, allowing high-scoring candidates to choose majors rationally. However, the letters are mailed out after the application window closes.
Xie Lan’s drowsiness vanished. “Quick, open it.”
Dou Sheng tore the seal and peeked inside. “Just one sheet of paper. Very lackluster and perfunctory.”
“Did it meet expectations?” Xie Lan walked over. He was nervous—more nervous than when he checked his own 646 score.
Throughout senior year, Dou Sheng’s scores fluctuated between 725 and 733. For most top students, 730 is a ceiling because points lost beyond that are usually in Chinese and English essays, which are subjective. Dou Sheng had estimated after the exam that he might hit 735 this time.
Dou Sheng rubbed his hands on his pants, peeked again, and snapped the envelope shut.
“How much?” Xie Lan stared at him.
“I only saw a ‘1’.”
“A ‘1’?” Xie Lan was stunned. “What ‘1’? 731? No way?”
A 741 was unrealistic. If there was a ‘1’, it had to be 731.
In the seconds Dou Sheng remained silent, Xie Lan already had words of comfort ready. T-University had already offered Dou Sheng a spot in the Law International Class for science students; even if his score wasn’t what he wanted, it didn’t matter.
“Provincial rank: 1,” Dou Sheng answered. He pulled the paper out and scanned it. “Oh, 738. Not bad.”
Xie Lan’s heart did a loop-de-loop. “738? That high?”
Dou Sheng hummed, muttering over the breakdown, “Full marks in English. 138 in Chinese—that’s a new record.”
He snapped a photo and sent it to their family group chat, then tossed the envelope aside. “Satisfied! Moving on. Come help me unbox; I bought several new lenses.”
What unboxing?
Xie Lan took the transcript and read it over and over. It was incredibly simple: black text on white paper, Dou Sheng’s info, a score, “Provincial Rank: 1,” and a red stamp.
Xie Lan placed the paper on the coffee table, applied a filter, and took a serious photo to re-send to the group.
Zhao Wenying quickly replied with a smiley: “Thanks Lan Lan, much clearer. The last one was so blurry I thought it was Wutong’s medical report.”
Xie Lan typed: “Auntie Zhao, when are you back?”
Zhao Wenying: “Next week. So annoying. If you two unbox the admission notices, record a video for me!”
Xie Lan: “Sure, Auntie.”
Dou Sheng was whistling while unboxing. He opened the outer crates violently, but when he reached the lens boxes, he became gentle, lifting them out like treasures.
“Going to school later?” he asked. “Old Hu said the notices arrived.”
“So soon?” Xie Lan checked his phone. “He Xiu said he’s visiting teachers with friends and asked if we want to grab dinner.”
“Cool, let’s head out after this.”
Xie Lan showered and changed. Passing a mirror, he realized he was wearing a white T-shirt and light gray slacks—exactly the same as Dou Sheng. Zhao Wenying had bought everything in pairs. With his hair getting long enough to cover his eyes, he and his boyfriend looked like twins sharing the same silhouette.
Dou Sheng looked at Xie Lan, then at his own identical outfit, and laughed. “Shall we?”
“Let’s go,” Xie Lan said solemnly, acting as if nothing was amiss.
The admission notices were in T-University’s signature purple envelopes. Touching the glossy hard cover, Xie Lan couldn’t help but smile. Getting into his mother’s alma mater finally felt real. The crest consisted of three concentric circles with a star in the center, surrounded by the school flower—the redbud.
“Open them here and take a photo with me,” Hu Xiujie laughed. “Teacher Ma is here too, I’ll call him over.”
Xie Lan took out his camera to film for Auntie Zhao, but he also brought his mother’s journal from her senior year and her original admission notice. He wanted her to “see” him get in.
Xie Lan tore his envelope open. Inside was a thick stack of materials, with a large purple hard-shell document on top. As he unfolded it, a 3D paper-cut of the T-University gate popped up, tilting toward him in silent welcome.
He was stunned. This was so much more intricate than the simple sheet of paper his mother had received decades ago.
[Student Xie Lan: You are admitted to the Mathematics and Applied Mathematics major. Please report to the school with this notice.]
“Do you like it?” Dou Sheng whispered. He hadn’t opened his yet, standing by Xie Lan’s side with a smile.
“Look at yours,” Xie Lan said.
“It’ll be the same,” Dou Sheng laughed.
[Student Dou Sheng: You are admitted to the Law International Class (Science Orientation). Please report to the school with this notice.]
Hu Xiujie was excited, messaging Teacher Ma to bring a student to help take photos. While she was busy, Xie Lan secretly tucked his mother’s old notice behind his new one, holding them both to his chest. Pressed against him was Xiao Langjing’s paper from twenty years ago; separated by that old paper was his brand-new future.
Soon, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by a lazier, dragging sound.
A voice yawned: “What’s with the photos? Why do you and Old Hu still have this habit? Does the phone album even have space?”
Hu Xiujie glared at the door. “If I tell you to take a photo, you take it! So much attitude just to visit your teachers? Can’t I even ask a favor?”
“Nah,” the boy pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Just a casual complaint. Don’t get mad.”
Xie Lan looked up. It was a tall boy with deep, sharp dark eyes and a defined silhouette. He was handsome in a heroic way, yet had a stray, slightly “delinquent” aura. Xie Lan’s gaze caught a sparkling stud in his left earlobe; the right ear was bare.
Teacher Ma rushed in, looking blissful. “Let me introduce you. This is also my student, studying Finance at T-U. His name is Zhong Chen.”
Hu Xiujie told Xie Lan: “The ‘Zhong’ (仲) from Midsummer, and ‘Chen’ (辰) like ‘Morning’ (晨) but without the ‘Sun’ (日) on top.”
The boy pulled out his phone, pouting. “Calling it ‘Morning without the Sun’ is so tacky. Honestly, that’s such a convoluted way to say it. I’m Zhong Chen. ‘Zhong’ as in Midsummer Night, ‘Chen’ as in Stars.”
He spoke too fast, almost as if he were too lazy to open his mouth wide. The words blurred together, leaving Xie Lan blinking in confusion.
After a moment, Xie Lan asked: “Planting a night? (Zhòng xià yè?)”
Zhong Chen froze. “Uh, Midsummer Night (Zhòng xià yè).”
Xie Lan: “…Planting… night? Night what?”
Zhong Chen was baffled. “What do you mean ‘night what’? Midsummer Night. Like the month. ‘Zhong’ as in the second brother of three.”
Xie Lan sighed, explaining patiently: “My Chinese isn’t great. ‘Zhong’ (种) like to plant? Planting what? Night?”
“…” A look of profound bewilderment appeared on Zhong Chen’s face.
Dou Sheng nearly burst out laughing, grabbing Xie Lan’s arm. “Midsummer refers to the second month of summer. It’s the ‘Zhong’ that means middle or second-born. You’ve memorized the term ‘hard to tell who is better’ (bù fēn bó zhòng), right? It’s that ‘Zhong’.”
“Ohhh,” Xie Lan finally understood. “I see… Zhong Chen. Got it.”
“Really…?” Zhong Chen looked at Teacher Ma with a numb expression.
Ma said: “This is the ‘returnee child’ I told you and Zixing about. Xie Lan.”
“Oh, the overseas kid.” Zhong Chen chuckled. “Alright, stand still. I’ll take the photo.”
Xie Lan and Dou Sheng held their notices. Teacher Ma stood by Xie Lan, Hu Xiujie by Dou Sheng. Xie Lan’s thumb rubbed his mother’s thin paper behind his own hard case. He felt very “full.” When Zhong Chen shouted “Eggplant!” (Cheese), the boy who usually hated photos smiled brightly, eyes full of light.
“Send it to me quickly,” Hu Xiujie laughed. She pointed at Dou Sheng and said to Zhong Chen: “Hey, stop bragging about being the ‘last top scorer’ of Yingzhong. Dou Sheng is the provincial top scorer this year. His total is higher than yours.”
“Higher than mine?” Zhong Chen raised an eyebrow. “I had a 729. What was yours?”
“738,” Dou Sheng said. “But the papers were different, you can’t compare them.”
“Hear that?” Zhong Chen glanced at Hu Xiujie. “Stop roasting me. You’ve taught so many top scorers, but you’re only mean to me.”
“I can’t be bothered with you,” Hu Xiujie rolled her eyes.
Xie Lan tucked his notice away. Zhong Chen said, “The other three are in Ma’s office. Let’s grab dinner. Teachers, you coming?”
“I’m not,” Hu Xiujie said. “My daughter is back today. We’re having a family dinner.”
Ma laughed: “I won’t either. You young people have your own things to talk about.”
Dou Sheng said, “Xie Lan and I are going to the restroom first. Wait for us.”
Zhong Chen whistled in response. As the duo walked out, they heard him mutter: “How sweet, even going to the bathroom together.” He paused, then answered himself: “Well, I follow Xing-Xing to the bathroom too, unless he’s in a bad mood and won’t let me.”
“Shut up,” Teacher Ma said tiredly. “Go talk to yourself in a corner.”
While washing hands, Dou Sheng said: “Zhong Chen should be a senior this year. I saw him on the school’s hall of fame.”
“Old Ma mentioned Zixing,” Dou Sheng mumbled. “There were two top scorers that year. Senior Jian Zixing is from our school too, tied with him.”
“They were Ma’s students too?”
“Yeah. They and He Xiu were from consecutive years. Then there was a two-year gap before we came along.” Dou Sheng turned off the tap. “He Xiu and Ye Si are in five-year programs, so they’re entering their fifth year. Zhong Chen and his group are seniors. We are freshmen. That means Ma and Hu taught seniors for two years straight, then went down to teach my grade from freshman year. Three sets of seniors in five years—all produced top scorers.”
“Incredible,” Xie Lan marveled.
They received a message from He Xiu saying to meet downstairs. As they passed Hu Xiujie’s office to grab their bags, Xie Lan suddenly froze.
Hu Xiujie had changed her clothes. She was standing at her desk with her back to them… wearing a school shirt, a milk-coffee plaid pleated skirt… and white leather shoes.
Xie Lan grabbed Dou Sheng’s arm, his pupils shaking, a cold sweat running down his spine. Dou Sheng was also stunned.
Xie Lan had a flashback to junior year when Dou Sheng had jokingly gifted Hu Xiujie that JK uniform.
Then, “Hu Xiujie” turned around. “Oh, you guys…”
It was a young woman in her early twenties. Her silhouette and high ponytail were identical to Hu Xiujie’s, and her features were quite similar.
Dou Sheng recovered first. “Are you Teacher Hu’s daughter?”
“Yeah. My classmates are visiting teachers, so I’m picking up my mom from work.”
“Oh, hello, hello.” Xie Lan, still shaken, grabbed his bag and fled.
Down the stairs, Xie Lan whispered: “Did you see? Was it the one?”
Surely Hu Xiujie wouldn’t give a JK uniform gifted by a male student to her daughter? Did the daughter know?
Dou Sheng shook his head quickly. “No, no. The plaid pattern and material were different. Don’t be scared.”
“Whew.” Xie Lan relaxed.
Outside, under the plane trees, four figures were waiting. He Xiu was gentle and calm; Ye Si was enthusiastic; Zhong Chen was sharp with a hint of delinquency; Jian Zixing was very quiet.
Ye Si had his arm around He Xiu’s shoulder, bickering with Zhong Chen. Jian Zixing leaned against a tree, clutching his bag, staring into space. He had a stud in his ear, just like Zhong Chen.
Xie Lan came to a sudden halt, looking at Dou Sheng. “Are those two also…?”
“Hiss—”
Dou Sheng was silent for a long time before muttering: “Three pairs of gay couples…”
“Old Ma must have been hit by some kind of evil curse.”
Author’s Note:
The Keyboard-Thumper (Author) sees four “eggs” jumping around and looks at Lan-Egg and Dou-Egg.
Lan-Egg (Shocked): “There… there are so many senior eggs.”
Dou-Egg (Lazy): “I couldn’t tell, Keyboard-Thumper. You’re quite the ‘Sea King’ (player) of the Egg House.”