Chapter 108: Side Story 8

Military training for the T University freshmen had just concluded, and Xie Lan of the Mathematics Department was already famous.

He was the “legendary” soldier who had the lowest Gaokao score in the entire camp, was the most stubborn recruit in the Class of ’28, and a “reverse sharpshooter” who managed to miss the target with all five bullets even while the instructor held his hand.

But simultaneously, he was the CMO champion whom the Math Department looked up to, and the UP whose friend requests exploded on the first day of school without him even needing an introduction.

In this university that worshipped intelligence and diversity, you could throw a stone and hit a cluster of brilliance. Many people’s light was submerged by this campus, but Xie Lan did not belong among them; his light seemed to shine even more resplendently here.

As the T University freshman welcome gala ended, Xie Lan was about to leave the backstage when he was called back.

“Xie Lan, wait a moment.” A female teacher leading the student symphony orchestra walked toward him, smiling gently. “You play the violin beautifully. By the way, I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but Wang Keyi is in her third year of grad school and busy with internships. She told me she wants to withdraw from the orchestra. Would you consider taking her position?”

Xie Lan took a moment to process who Wang Keyi was.

Violin seats in a symphony are divided into two categories: First Violin and Second Violin, twelve each. The First Violins handle the melody, while the Second Violins handle the low-pitched harmonies. Xie Lan was the only freshman this year who skipped the “reserve” bench and performed directly; his current position was in the Second Violins.

In essence, he didn’t care about the hierarchy. Although he had been called “Principal Violinist” by his school orchestra in England, that was merely a recognition of skill among peers. A symphony is an art of exquisite collaboration; there is no inherent “high” or “low” between positions.

“I’m fine with either, I’ll follow the arrangement.” Xie Lan shouldered his violin case. “Sorry, Teacher, although I came to perform, I’ll have to request leave for the regular weekly rehearsals this year.”

Because he was aiming for the IMO next year, he hadn’t originally signed up, intending to join in his sophomore year after the competition. However, the orchestra president had actively sought him out. In the list of new members, which was a solid wall of “Reserve” positions, the name “Xie Lan” was followed by the only “Second Violin Seat.”

The teacher smiled. “I know, but we have many meaningful performances throughout the year. I’ll have the president keep you synced; if the timing works, come whenever you can.”

Xie Lan could no longer decline, so he nodded. “Alright, thank you, Teacher.”

The crowds in the activity hall had mostly dispersed. Xie Lan hurried out with his violin and saw Dou Sheng waiting under a tree.

Dou Sheng was holding a bicycle with one hand and his camera with the other, flipping through footage. Xie Lan walked over, finally breathing a sigh of relief. “What did you film?”

“You.” Dou Sheng smiled and held the camera toward him. “The first time I’ve seen you sitting in a symphony orchestra live. That feeling… tsk… words can’t describe it.”

On the screen was the solemn, orderly T University Symphony Orchestra. The performers were all in black formal wear, surrounding the conductor. The violin sections were on the left and right; Xie Lan was on the innermost ring on the left.

In the frame, the quiet youth rested the violin against his neck, drawing the bow. As the music soared, every tremor of his arms and body blended into the background of the other performers, yet his posture was so outstanding. Among the countless flying bows, Xie Lan’s was the most eye-catching.

“I’m so happy.” Dou Sheng remarked emotionally. He re-watched that short clip several times before carefully putting the camera away.

He straddled the bicycle, one foot propping himself up, waiting for Xie Lan to sit steadily before pedaling out, letting the wind sweep his hair behind him.

Dou Sheng asked casually, “What are we having for a late-night snack?”

Xie Lan raised his voice against the wind, “Something sweet.”

After eating BBQ with Ye Si and the others for a week straight, the mere scent of cumin made him turn pale now.

Dou Sheng’s bike turned a smooth corner. “Then shall we raid that bakery by our department?”

“Okay.” Xie Lan casually put his hands on Dou Sheng’s waist and yawned. “I hope they still have pork floss ‘Xiao Bei’ cakes.”

Dou Sheng rode the bike with flair. No matter how bad the road conditions, he could find a path that wasn’t too bumpy. The handlebars twisted nimbly, yet the ride remained steady.

As the bike left the main road, the number of students around them dropped. Xie Lan leaned his side against Dou Sheng’s back and yawned. “Today’s class was so profound.”

Dou Sheng was surprised. “Profound? What major class did you have today?”

“Mathematical Analysis, Advanced Linear Algebra.”

Dou Sheng sounded puzzled. “No way? Did they manage to confuse you right off the bat?”

Xie Lan yawned one after another. “I didn’t say the major classes were profound… I meant ‘Mao-Gai’ (Introduction to Mao Zedong Thought).”

“…Hahaha.”

Dou Sheng couldn’t help but laugh out loud. The laughter was carried into Xie Lan’s ears by the wind, feeling slightly ticklish.

Xie Lan sighed melancholily.

Mao-Gai was truly hard. His classmates comforted him saying he just needed to memorize it before finals, but those were things he struggled even to read through—how was he supposed to memorize them?

Even more depressing was the fact that T University was practically a sports academy. It was said that anyone who failed the annual 3000-meter test would lose their qualification for recommended postgraduate studies. The psychological shadow of military training hadn’t even faded yet, and here it was again. He might as well be stabbed.

There wasn’t much stock left at the bakery, but fortunately, there was one last pork floss Xiao Bei left for Xie Lan. Dou Sheng packed a box of puffs, a box of salty-sweet croissants, a bag of peach crisps and cookies, and cleared out the Snow Meihua cakes… a heavy bag hung from the handlebars.

As the bike started moving again, he said to the person behind him, “You’ll sleep better after eating sweets. I’ll wake you up for a run tomorrow morning.”

The moment he finished, his back felt heavy as Xie Lan pressed his forehead against it. He couldn’t refuse, but he could use his forehead to rub against his boyfriend’s back to voice his complaints.

As the bike exited the school gates, they occasionally passed familiar faces. Those who knew Dou Sheng naturally shouted greetings, while those who knew Xie Lan passed by with low whispers and smiles, likely because Xie Lan had his eyes closed as if sleeping.

But as the bike passed, the evening breeze still carried low voices into Xie Lan’s ears.

“Look, that’s them. The ‘fake boyfriends’.”

“So fake.”

“What a waste. He’s the only handsome one in our department this year.”

“My god, be satisfied. At least the Math Department has that many men…”

Xie Lan’s head rested against his boyfriend’s back. The breeze blowing against his face was comfortable, and he actually seemed to fall asleep for a moment. Later, Dou Sheng suddenly rode over a bumpy patch, making Xie Lan’s backside ache so much that he became irritable. He pushed himself up and gave a sharp smack on Dou Sheng’s back.

The bike had just entered the gates of their residential complex, and the speed slowed down.

Xie Lan said irritably, “Can’t you pick a flat road to ride on?”

“I can, sorry.” Dou Sheng apologized immediately, but after a moment, he explained softly, “I tried my best. A kid suddenly ran out of an alley just now, I was dodging him.”

Xie Lan sighed.

Dou Sheng parked the bike downstairs. When Xie Lan got off, Dou Sheng took the violin to carry for him, muttering, “Next time we do that, I won’t ride the bike the next day. Wait, walking would probably be uncomfortable too… tsk, let me think about what to do.”

Xie Lan remained silent and walked ahead of him into the building.

The lightbulbs on the lower floors of the old building were broken. Xie Lan used his phone’s flashlight to light the way, his silhouette flickering with the movement of the light. Though it wasn’t extremely obvious, one could still feel that his movements up the stairs were a bit awkward.

Dou Sheng suddenly felt a pang of guilt. He caught up in two steps and said, “How about you hold the things and I carry you?”

Xie Lan’s body trembled, nearly causing him to trip. He turned back in disbelief. “Are you trying to scare the neighbors to death? Except for Ye Si and his group, everyone in this building is a grandpa or grandma.”

“I was just saying…” Dou Sheng gave up again. “I just got a bit ‘over-excited’ for a second…”

Xie Lan, standing two steps above him, looked back and scoffed. “You were ‘over-excited’ for a lot more than just a second.”

Dou Sheng kept his mouth shut, but once Xie Lan turned back, the corners of his mouth curled into a faint smile.

The hallway was quiet, the lack of light making it even more serene. They walked up leisurely, one after the other, without saying much.

It wasn’t until they reached the fourth floor that they finally found a working light. Xie Lan was incredibly hot and took off the suit jacket he wore for the performance, draping it over his arm. He had endured the heat earlier because the white shirt provided by the orchestra was very translucent and couldn’t be worn alone.

As he walked up, he unbuttoned a few buttons at the collar and his cuffs, asking casually, “How translucent does it look from behind?”

Dou Sheng looked up and glanced at him. The hallway was small and focused the light; every little detail showed through the white shirt.

“Basically, you can’t wear it in the sunlight,” Dou Sheng answered succinctly. “I suggest you buy a similar style for future activities or rehearsals, or we can take this pattern and have one custom-made.”

Xie Lan hummed. “That works.”

Once home, Xie Lan quickly finished a pork floss cake and sucked down half a box of puffs. The massive amount of sugar immediately made him drowsy. He glanced at Dou Sheng, who—as per his routine—had already opened his computer to import footage. Xie Lan grabbed two more puffs and slipped into the bathroom.

He had just taken off his shirt and hadn’t even taken off his pants when Dou Sheng spoke from outside: “Coming in.”

Though he gave a warning, the action of opening the door was simultaneous with the greeting, leaving no time for a reaction.

Xie Lan was helpless but found it a bit funny. “I thought you were importing footage, so I went to wash first.”

“Oh, go ahead. I’m just coming in to get the bug spray.”

As Dou Sheng spoke, he grabbed the blue bottle from the counter, his gaze sweeping past the mirror.

In the mirror, on the fair skin, were scattered marks—bruises left accidentally by Xie Lan’s recent attempts at an “unfamiliar exercise.”

Dou Sheng “tsk-ed.” “You’re a bit fragile. How many days will it take for those to heal?”

Xie Lan’s gaze looked like it could kill.

“My mistake, I’m leaving.” Dou Sheng immediately held up the bug spray in apology, then asked through the door after exiting, “May I ask the Master, can tonight’s footage be edited into this month’s VLOG?”

“Whatever,” Xie Lan took off his clothes and pulled the shower door open. “Edit it if you want.”

Just as he turned on the shower, he vaguely heard Dou Sheng ask from outside: “Does… does it really hurt that much?”

Dou Sheng’s voice was very low, whether muffled by the water or because he intentionally lowered it. Xie Lan instinctively reached to turn off the water but hesitated and stopped, not wanting to put this conversation into a scene that felt too solemn.

He gave a muffled reply through the sound of the water, “Not really… Can you stop asking?”

“Oh, okay…” Dou Sheng’s voice immediately moved further away, muttering, “I just… anyway, next time will definitely be better.”

The hot water poured down, over Xie Lan’s ears and cheeks, and the skin it touched began to flush with the temperature of the water. He silently squeezed a palmful of shampoo and massaged it into his head, rubbing until his hands were full of bubbles, scrubbing hard with his eyes closed until the scent of pine permeated the damp bathroom.

Actually, it was already quite good last time… toward the end.

An unfamiliar “exercise,” when first attempted, was indeed a massive challenge to physical stamina, flexibility, and endurance. However, with exercise, the body is stimulated to produce large amounts of dopamine later on, allowing one to find joy even while the whole body is sore.

Melodious, soothing music drifted from outside, changing every few seconds—Dou Sheng was picking the BGM. After several cuts, he finally settled on a song, exactly the one Xie Lan had been humming a few days ago.

Xie Lan hummed the tune as he washed away the tension and soreness under the hot water. He stepped out of the shower, put on a pair of soft pajama pants, and casually threw on a black tank top.

In the mirror, the person who had just showered was so pale he almost seemed to glow, with damp black hair clinging to his forehead and cheeks. He picked up the hairdryer, and just as he plugged it in, a shadow appeared on the frosted glass of the door again.

“Done?” Dou Sheng asked from outside.

Xie Lan gave a hum.

“I’m here to return the bug spray.” Dou Sheng pressed the handle again and sauntered in. Xie Lan moved aside to let his arm through, watching the blue bottle drop into a pile of other containers.

However, Dou Sheng didn’t leave. He leaned against the sink, his body blocking the outlet.

He “tsk-tsk-ed.” “Student Xie Lan, I just finished cutting the symphony segment from tonight.”

“Hmm?” Xie Lan put down the hairdryer. “What about it?”

“Nothing, I just think my boyfriend is so beautiful. I want to brag to the whole world, but I have nowhere to vent that thought right now. It’s stifling.” Dou Sheng spoke as he reached up to hook his arm around Xie Lan’s shoulder. Ignoring the humidity and the dampness of Xie Lan’s hair, he pressed his lips repeatedly against his forehead and eyes through the hair. “Forgive me. Seeing my boyfriend’s symphony live for the first time… I was completely dazed.”

The bathroom was very hot, and Xie Lan was pressed against him. He should have been annoyed, but it felt very comfortable. Lately, he and Dou Sheng had indeed become more intimate than before. It was the kind of intimacy where the body unconsciously wanted to draw closer.

Dou Sheng casually took the hairdryer from his hand, plugged it in, and tested the temperature against his palm.

“Want me to dry it for you?”

“Mm.”

So Xie Lan lowered his head slightly, letting Dou Sheng massage his hair with one hand while meticulously drying it with the other. The fan hummed loudly, and flying strands of hair occasionally brushed against his eyes, feeling ticklish.

Xie Lan half-closed his eyes and raised his voice, “I don’t have classes tomorrow morning. You don’t either, right?”

Dou Sheng also raised his voice to reply, “Yeah, we’re both booked from afternoon to night tomorrow. We picked our courses specifically to match up, remember?”

Xie Lan gave an “oh,” feeling his hair being ruffled quite wildly. He opened one eye to glance at the mirror from the side, watching his head of hair dancing in the air.

Ten more seconds passed, the fan stopped, and the world suddenly went quiet.

“Done.” Dou Sheng put down the hairdryer.

Xie Lan nodded. A drop of water slid down the side of his neck, stopped by his collarbone. Just as he was about to reach for it, Dou Sheng naturally gripped his shoulder and wiped the small droplet away with his thumb.

The person in the mirror had fluffy black hair and moist, lustrous eyes. The tank top hugged the smooth, firm lines of his waist; his shoulders and arms glowed with youthful vitality under the bathroom ceiling light.

“I don’t have classes tomorrow morning,” Xie Lan suddenly repeated in a low voice.

“Huh?”

Dou Sheng retracted his gaze from the mirror and took a moment to react. Xie Lan didn’t respond to the “huh” but simply looked at him. Dou Sheng suddenly realized, letting out an incredulous yet teasing laugh as he looked away. “No way, Senior? You were waiting for me with that?”

“What was I waiting for?” Xie Lan’s tone was very flat.

Dou Sheng didn’t reply but let out two sighs in a row. Hearing the sound of Wutong jumping off the bed in the other room, he kicked his foot backward, and the door slammed shut with a bang.

“MEOW-OW—!!” Wutong, whose nose was almost hit, let out an angry cry outside. Cat claws began scratching against the frosted glass—scritch-scratch—sounding quite ferocious.

The two inside ignored it. Their breathing was hot. Dou Sheng supported Xie Lan’s neck as they kissed deeply, the black tank top and the white shirt pressed tightly together.

Xie Lan’s back was against the mist-covered tiles. Soon, his back was wet, and the damp fabric clinging to him felt uncomfortable. He reached out irritably to tug at the tank top, but his fingertips trembled, and the fabric snapped back, hitting his skin with a crisp sound.

His profile in the mirror turned a deep crimson instantly.

The sound of kissing stopped, replaced by Dou Sheng’s muffled laughter through shallow breaths.

“What are you laughing at?” Xie Lan was indignant. “It’s so humid, can’t you turn on the exhaust fan?”

Dou Sheng lowered his head, his lips pressing repeatedly against the flush spreading to Xie Lan’s collarbone. It took a long time before he pulled away reluctantly.

“The exhaust fan won’t help,” Dou Sheng whispered in his ear. “God knows how many years it would take to vent all this ‘heat’.”

As he spoke, he let go of Xie Lan’s neck and moved his hand downward.

“We might as well just wash again in a bit.”

“…”

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Author’s Note:

Early the next morning, the “keyboard-thumper” (Author) stood alone outside the new “Egg” home, looking at her watch expressionlessly.

From five, to six, to seven.

From dawn, to high noon.

Then she walked back with a cold face and kicked the door open.

“What are you doing! Didn’t we agree to run together! I came all this way to see you!”

Lan-Egg (Xie Lan) tiredly pulled the quilt over himself and mumbled with closed eyes: “Sorry, Egg really can’t get up…”

“Let’s reschedule for tomorrow,” Dou-Egg (Dou Sheng) mumbled. “You don’t understand, Egg is busy with Egg business.”